#decoding business mind

[ajaygupta1]

Learn Business Basics

Are you planning to learn business basics to join in with the trend of entrepreneurship? Every individual has some business idea or the other and wants to find out how to learn business basics and then progress on to the next level. However, most individuals lack a sense of direction so much so that an author and edupreneur took it upon himself and started decoding business mind. This man is none other than the successful Ajay Gupta, businessman in a wheelchair. He wrote “Decoding Business Minds” due to so many people wanting to learn business basics and not finding appropriate resources to do the same. 

To learn business basics, the book by Ajay Gupta (Bachpan Play School’s founder and CEO) is a must-read. Ajay Gupta (AHPS founder and CEO as well) gathered his 36 years of business learnings and compiled them into this book to fuel the fire of self-reliance across the country. It talks about various business concepts in the form of stories, analogies, and direct lessons. 

“Decoding Business Minds” became an instant bestseller on Amazon and is Ajay Gupta’s first book (though he has published various articles and poems on renowned platforms many times).

[daisyswift3]

Sorry for disappearing again. I’m popping back on here to give a little update on my life for anyone who cares. August was a really really reallyyy awful month for me. First I was spiraling abt my ex situationship and then the first wk of the semester I started dealing w a lot of harassment from classmates and I realized it was my own “friends” that started it and spread a bunch of awful untrue rumors abt me as well as my private text conversations w them 😃 And the stress from all of that literally caused me to have a psychotic episode and spiral even more so that was fun. I actually came close to ending my life bc it was so bad. I think that was the first time I’ve ever had a full blown psychotic episode and it was absolute hell, like I’ve never been so fucking terrified in my life. I didn’t even know it was possible to have thoughts as dark as the ones I was having. This caused me to fall really behind in my classes so now I’m having to catch up while also being very scatterbrained. And this WAS going to be my last semester but now I’m gonna have to graduate later bc of all of this 🥰 It literally feels like they sabotaged me right before the finish line like I’ve never been so pissed off in my life. But one good thing that came out of it is I’ve now figured out I probably have schizotypal personality disorder or sth similar which would explain why I have such a hard time making friends and maintaining relationships. I think I come off a lot colder than I mean to and so I give ppl mixed signals on accident. It’s kind of awful knowing I’M actually the one that’s caused some of my relationships to implode without meaning to. Like I try soooo hard to be as nice as possible and to listen and be patient w ppl but it’s still somehow never enough bc I’m kinda stoic and am not good at expressing my love for ppl. Like I feel so many things internally but it’s hard for me to show them externally. And I also figured out that I experience apophenia (which can be related to psychosis and schizophrenia) and so I sometimes read way too much into things and see signs and patterns that aren’t there. On one hand it’s great bc it allows me to learn difficult concepts really fast and spot patterns and connections other ppl might not see, but on the other hand it can also cause me to experience psychosis. I’m trying to be more careful now w how delusional I let myself be but I’m not gonna stop analyzing music and I’ll let myself be delulu sometimes as a treat bc life is more fun that way :)) I’ve made several playlists that kind of serve as journal entries since I don’t really journal and that’s the closest thing I have to journaling. These songs are like the soundtrack of my life at the moment

[thoughtsbyharu]

emails i can't send album thoughts

My thoughts regarding Sabrina Carpenter's album

Hi! This is a very short review of Sabrina Carpenter's "emails i can't send" album!

I first posted this on twitter and I have to describe my thoughts with the characrer limit so some are very short!

1. emails i can't send

Rating: 9/10

Thoughts:

This made me cry since it made me revisit a not so happy memory which caused me trust issues lol.

Anyway i like how it is so raw and honest. I also love the melody.

2. Vicious

Rating: 8.5/10

Thoughts:

Very catchy. I love the instrumental. The bridge was also good. I added this on my playlist~ It also reminded me of someone I know who fits the song perfectly

3. Read Your Mind

Rating: 8/10

Thoughts:

Another catchy song 👏

I LOVE the beat, it makes me wanna dance. My fave part is the pre-chorus! The lyrics is about frustration towards someone who is really indecisive 😂

4. Tornado Warnings

Rating: 7.5/10

Thoughts:

That bass tho. The song is good but not something i would have on repeat. Bridge is good! Her vocals are pretty.

5. because i liked a boy

Rating: 8/10

Thoughts:

Is this about the whole driver's license situation? I love the chorus of this one. I kinda sympathize with her bc people can be so cruel. Like, they are so fast to jump on that hate train when they only know a snippet of what happened.

6. Already Over

Rating: 8/10

Thoughts:

Chorus is very catchy and I love the beats. The melody is upbeat and reminds me of vlog music but the lyrics is pretty sad.

7. how many things

Rating: 8.5/10

Thoughts:

Tbh I paid no attention to this song on first listen but upon reading the lyrics, I find it really sad. It's about realizing that ur special someone is slowly falling out of love w/ you. I love the pre chorus her vocals are really heavenly. One of my faves in this album.

8. bet u wanna

Rating: 8.5/10

Thoughts:

An absolute banger for me 👏

It's about those exes who wants to come back 🙄

I like the scoff on the bridge 😂

Definitely going on my playlist

9. Nonsense

Rating: 9/10

Thoughts:

This song is the reason I'm listening to the album 😂 It's VERY CATCHY and has been stuck in my mind for weeks.

10. Fast Times

" Give me a second to forget I

ever really meant it "

Rating: 7.5/10

Thoughts:

Love the instrumental and the chorus is catchy.

P.S. I've reached the image limit so no images from here onwards

11. skinny dipping

"We've been swimming on the

edge of the cliff

I'm resistant, but goin' down

with the ship

It'd be so nice right? Right?

If we could take it all off and just

exist

And skinny dip in water under the

bridge"

Rating: 7/10

Thoughts:

Feels like a song from a musical. I like the chorus.

12. Bad for Business

"He's good for my heart but he's

bad for business"

Rating: 8.5/10

Thoughts:

Have you been so inlove that you did things that are not very typical of you? If yes, then this is the song for you. I love this song bc i can relate to it ><

13. decode

" You're good at falling, not

the staying there

You're good at the giving too

much then getting scared

You're good at impersonating

someone who cares "

Rating: 8/10

Thoughts:

It's a song for those who had the courage to walk away from a very toxic relationship :)

--------------------------

Top 5 Songs:

emails i can't send

Nonsense

Vicious

Bad for Business

how many things

--------------------------

Overall Score: 8.15/10

[ajayguptablogsposts]

Best Business Books to Read in 2023

Decoding the leading Business Minds takes effort, but it is an essential step to beginning your own business, setting it up successfully, and sustaining it for your future generations. It takes effort; nonetheless, when you get hold of the best business book to read, this effort might save you time and resources. Business related books could help you save your energy as well so that you can devote it to the right direction.

The question is—How to find the best business book to read when all you get are technical books that you might not be proficient in, as a person from a different academic and social background? This is a question that arises for many business related books. "Decoding Business Minds", a book by edupreneur Ajay Gupta, comes out as an answer to that.

"Decoding Business Minds" was published in 2022, and it became an instant bestseller. The book strives to motivate and guide the entrepreneurs of today to start a business and become self-reliant, which is an alarming need of today when we need job creators more than job seekers. The author talks about his business learnings and presents them in a way that combines storytelling, analogies, and motivation. This is all what makes it one of the best business book to read.

"Decoding Business Minds" is a motivational book as well as a practical guide for aspiring entrepreneurs, and it is an interesting read for the general public as well, rising above the status of a cult book. The author compiles his 36 years of business experience in this book and decodes his own successful mind to delve into the learnings of b usiness minds, which are at the top.

Ajay Gupta is a well-known serial entrepreneur whose preschool brand Bachpan has over 1100 play schools across the country and the formal school brand Academic Heights Public School (AHPS) has over 110 schools across India. He is also the co-founder of Rishihood University .

If you imbibe the lessons given in "Decoding Business Minds" and learn to decode business-oriented minds, believe that you have found the key to success.

Read More Related Blog :

​

You must read for entrepreneurs and business owners

Best Entrepreneur Books to Make Your Business Successful

[theoccultz]

How do they really see you ?

Req.

Minors dni (18+ mention's )

General reading, take what resonates , leave what doesn't

Pics and dividers not mine , credits to their rightful owners

Thank you for all the reblogs , likes and comments i appreciate it 🖤

See ya at your pile !!

Pile l . Pile ll. Pile lll.

Pile 1 .

Queen of wands , 8ofpentacles, 4ofpentacles

Hyena

They see you as helpful and relient you will pass the opportunity if you feel like others need it more ,you guys are good at guiding others you may be a teacher or you're just that friend who is able to decode easily you can read faces like a book you guys look well put together you may know what suits you and what doesn't very well . They think you get a lot of attention although you look interested in what others have to say , your mind wonders somewhere else you may have r-b-f so its hard to read to read your expressions , you're professional in a sense . you look relaxed most of the time they may see you working a lot you always seem to be focused on something, they think others bother you ,people want to talk to you but they dont respect your boundaries and they kinda feel you get annoyed when someone is interrupting you in your day to day life , they thought you were arrogant when they first met you but they've gotten used to your rbf ,they understand it was them projecting.

They think you love food and you take care of your health, they think you have good hygiene, you may style your hair or they like your hair , you respect others space ,if you say No others wouldn't force you because there's this sternness in your voice , they think you're closed off though you may interact with others you kind of hate spending too much time with others , they love whatever language you can speak i'm picking up on an accent here , they think you have a graceful presence like say there's a meeting or a party you have dressed up exactly how the dress code expect you to be , they think you are a minimalist . You are not that person who sings like they own the party there's something very ethical and well mannered.You seem to do your own thing i dont think you need help in almost anything, you can figure out things for yourself this person seems to be impressed with your qualities or persona because they're somewhat like this too and they think its a rare quality to have . They think you're more head than heart /intellectual maybe ? They dont like to think of themselves as helpless and you exactly seem to replicate that , they think people are fake these days and would stab you without a second thought , this person is not like this they are loyal until they die , either you are this gossip bee just trying to be someone you're not LMAO this person has seen you turn down others it was satisfactory, there's a lot of gossip bess here hmmm , anyway they think you dont give a shit ☠️✋🏼 although its risky and you have to give in to social pressure but you just mind your own business even though you know about the disadvantages . Yeah

They think you shouldn't be disturbed for some reason , not like you're a wild person who'll start yelling at them but they just see you enjoying your presence and being relaxed?they dont think you get excited about a lot of things like you're very Sophisticated, you dont play games . I dont know if you speak to this person but this person is down bad for your voice ,for your vocabulary like what ...???they think you're kind of cutthroat that you can hurt them with your words if they mess with you ,thry think you have anger issues but they like it 😭a bad bitch with anger issues ? yes sir ....they may have seen you lash out and they think its for everyone's good you are silent fff this person was turned on .

They think you're very sweet & cute although no one would agree with them , they seem to look for you when you're not there like they randomly start to think about you , they kinda miss you when you're not around, this person unknowingly observes you i'm seeing a vision of someone working and the other person is like 👁️👄👁️ , this person is atrracted to your essence they're addicted to your mannerisms idk who is this ...could be a boss , a friend, but they really admire you , this person is a powerful person themselves, they share a good connections with others, they're more good at understanding & convincing others than you . They think how you're are a free thinker , you love to learn about things , you guys are great advice givers ,you guys are very open and direct to the point it intimidates them , you look youthful and dress creative you have energetic boundaries they wouldn't wanna touch , you guys carry individualistic quality,you dont get easily influence by societal norms , you're not gonna follow everything the world puts out , you use your own guidance.This is someone who has gained interest in you after a long time , you may knew each other or knew of each other but you didn't really care at first , i see even if this is a platonic connection the feelings are developing, this person finds you really beautiful physically and wants to be closer but they themselves is a little aloof and doent like to get attach to anyone ,they're everyone's friend but who is actually "their" friend? This person seems be a professional, they are mindful and careful unlike pile 3's person , this person do not wear this heart on their sleeve , they are over prorective of themselves, this person is still on that stage of getting to know you , like they think a LOTT.

Song : damn is this an ex?

Thanks for reading !!

Pile ll.

Ace of pentacles, king of swords , the high priestess

Black swan

They see you as someone who'll be victorious wherever you are , you have a likeable personality and a charming aura that really draws others to you, they love your company, they love your smile the most, they love your hair , your lips , your dressing sense , your piercings, they think you ALWAYS look fabulous, they think you're a breathe of fresh air ,you light up their world , they're very grateful to have you in their life , they love to talk to you and they really look forward too .They kind of put you on a pedestal, this person really see "you" the crazy you , the childish you , the sweet you, the angry you and they love everything version of you 😭they think people are really lucky to have you , they think you have a healing presence , they see you as someone that needs to be protected you're just so kind , generous and welcoming ...they feel jealous that your energy is put there , they love your personality they love to spend time with you or they want too , you could be an introvert and they are like an open book .

This person is telling me that they feel accepted in your presence , they love your music taste, you feel s if you're their lost missing piece , your interets ate very similar,they think their inner child really flourish in your presence, i'm getting this .....when i'm with them all of my worries are taken by god kinda vibe ....they think you keep your issues to yourself and that you need to release and let go they want to help you in the process of it , you have a positive effect pn people,they think there are some people in your life who troubles you and they fucking hate that, they think you are photogenic, they love your hair , they think you're really fun to be around, you bring a lot to the table , they wanna heal & grow with you even if you lose contact someday they'll remember you as if you're there to celebrate every best thing that happened in their life , this person kind of feel pressured to do more because they see you doing so much , they're insecure and sad about something and nobody knows it and there isn't a lot of thing's that gets them excited or bring joy but you do , you may travel together, study together, you may know their family, they could be your cousin , they could be someone you have a crush on .

If this is someone not platonic & the feelings are Mutual , you should find out and openly give them hints . They think their efforts are ignored sometimes like they're that friend who do the most and they get ignored, they want to ignore you but they cant , there are some thing they dont communicate because they dont want to ruin this relationship but they really dont like others interference in your connection ,they think you ignore them when you have others company

Alright k thats it (: looking back at your reading, they seem to be someone you have helped in some way and that's why they like you so much because that was something really heavy weigh-in them down ,you helped them unknowingly or knowingly , they also seem conglict free and likeable but they dont like a lot of people thats the issue .

Your song: i love when the song matches the vibe of the reading .

Thanks for reading!!

Pile lll.

Death, the devil , the world rx

Bee

Well what do i say , the cards speak for itself + i dont get any different vibe from the original interpretation of cards

Alright let's start this is about to be confusing......this person finds you attractive, they think about you obsessively and they dont want you to know , you're a though that cross their mind and stays there forever, this is someone who is sexually attracted to you or they admire your body , they kinda have wild assumptions so stick with me ,i'm not getting toxic vibe rather a really enamoured one ,they think you are more sexually experienced than them , they compare themselves to you a lot , they think you'd up for fwb without emotional connection, this person thinks of you as a mystery they want to know "Everything" about you , you intrigue them , wouldn't be surprised if they stalk you online , this person try to hide so much its Insane , they dont want to let you know that they are interested in you they feel as though you will avoid them or you will make fun of them ? They could annoy you on purpose, this person is a little annoyed themselves, they feel stuck and they want to take action , they cant just keep fantasizing about whats not real . They want to be friends with you .

This person wants to be involved in your life and be there for " you" , they think you guys are compatible although they are more sociable than you , I'm feeling surprised because they seem to be wayy invested than they think they would be , they would analyse your mood and wonder about it , they think you dont pay much attention to them like heck you dont even seem to know them that well even though you may have known them longer than they think , this person's energy is straight up hopeless i think this is someone who gets a lot of attention and praise , they seem to have it all , they could be in a authoritive position in life , like they could own libraries or they are the big sister /brother of the family or their friends rely on them for support, they have this natural ability to make others feel secure , they are helpful and sweet , they dont like drama and they are big on action and manifestations , they are also very stubborn and wants things their way , they could fit in to societal expectations but they feel as though they put up a front and pretend to be someone else , they get drained easily and they seem to like books especially mystery books , they like to have their own space they could own a bigg ass house as well , they seem to work a lot like they're damnn busyy in their life but they still like to check up on you its their daily routine, this person has had a lot of hope from the very beginning, they kind of accepted they liked you, this person is possesive asf , it ticks them off its their insecurity. How would you recognise this person? Others see them as a fun but a disciplined person , They are the well liked cool person in their community and they are intelligent with their words , they have attractive eyes and they wear lighter colours , they are their neighbours favourite, they also dont seem very fashionable, they stick to formals and basic . Yeah , this person also think you are imaginative and artistic and they want to like your interests so bad to connect deeper with you and to make themselves familiar , they could have water placements specially pisces , i feel like they may look tough and big but as a child ??? they were just everyone's little troublemaker but also a sweetheart awwww this is so cute . Their friend circle is influential tho , they are judgemental as well hmm interesting. This could be an online connection but it doesn't have to be , you guys just don't interact that much although both of you are intrigued, this person could have a controversial past lol ,its just something about their eyes they seem like a deep thinker although they may not look like one , this person reminds me of suga from bts , you know how he's so tough on the outside like he doesn't care but he's so aware & invested about his friendsdislikes & likes , he knows them better than they think he does

ahhhh anyways this was heavy .

Your song : see i told you

Thanks for reading!!

[comfortscripts]

The Way I Love You ¬ Coriolanus Snow

Plot - All you want is one night with Corio, the real him. Pairing - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Best Friend!Female!Reader Notes/Warnings - Corio is ooc in this, but the idea is that he is slightly hinged for her and he is aware of his redflags. Possessive? Mentions of deaths. Reader is lowkey just blind to Corio's darkness. First fic back so let's see how it goes! Word Count - 1,443

9pm

“You promised!”

“And when exactly did I promise this?”

He watched as her fists clenched the corners of her skirt, breath dripping with exasperation. Calmly watching from the comfort of his leather chair, nursing a glass of amber whilst his eyes followed the milky fabric adorning his best-friend’s figure. Almost 30 minutes of her attempting to convince him to leave his opaque penthouse.

“Last year, when you were too busy on my birthday, you promised me that I could choose whatever I wanted to do for one da-” Stilling her movements, frozen as realisation washed over her. “You sneaky fucker! Not once have you forgotten a promise between us.”

Corio wanted to laugh as her face scrunched with faux anger, but all he did was cock his eyebrow as a gentle smirk settled on his lips. “Of course, I didn’t forget. However, this little song and dance has been quite amusing.”

Resting his drink to the side, he rose to full height and reached his delicate hand out towards the girl. “I will agree, purely on the premise that nothing we do could harm either of our reputations.”

A smile brighter than freshly fallen snow crept onto her face.

“You have my word.”

1am

Corio may have noticed the ache in his legs if he didn’t have such a captivating distraction hanging from his bicep. After aimlessly strolling through the Capitol, the myriad of hues illuminating their faces as they spoke of the most mundane aspects of their adult lives to giggling at memories of their youth. Having known one another since the tender age of 10, there is little left unsaid between the pair. Perhaps only one thing.

“I’ve missed you Corio”

Shifting his head to where her figure was pressed against his side, their tandem steps slowed. Only those who understood the inner works of Coriolanus Snow could see the cogs turning behind those azure eyes. Flickering across her face, attempting to decode her words.

“Don’t be silly. We see each other constantly; your office is barely 20 steps from mine.”

 The young woman bit back a sigh. In all the years she had known Snow, he excelled in many things but struggled with matters of the heart. “No, I see Coriolanus Snow constantly. Future President of Panem, prodigy Gamemaker. I can barely remember the last time I had a conversation with the real you, Corio, before tonight.”

Stilling completely, allowing her arm to slip from the loop of his. It was a rare occurrence for the young man to be devoid of words, only having ever been rendered speechless by the very same woman only a touch away. In all truthfulness, he yearned for her presence. He longed for the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with delight when indulging in dessert, her uncanny ability to understand his thoughts, and most importantly, the way she allowed him to be himself.

He missed her too.

Perhaps it was his silence, or perhaps it was the cool air that unsettled her. Bubbles of anxiety began to rise in her stomach, fearing that she had overstepped or somehow offended the blond. “I only mean that you have sides to you. Whilst I like all of them, the one I care about most is the real you. I’m sorry, but I miss my best friend.”

“I barely know the real me anymore.”

It was truth. Being betrayed by Lucy Gray, the blood on his hands, the character he has had to play since; it was exhausting. The darkness swirling inside of him corrupting his daily thoughts, paranoia and greed clouding his mind. It was all too much to expose to her.

She embodied life, a breath of fresh air in a world torn apart by capitalism and violence. Coriolanus could never understand why she cared for him, why she befriended him. But he could never jeopardise losing her. The darker side of him wishes to lock her up in the Penthouse, so her sun only shines for him. Keep away the prying eyes of men who wish to glimpse the sweetness of her smile. But alas, he cannot. An innocent fragment of his soul forbids his darkness from tainting her, even if he must create distance to do so.

“After all that has happened, the Corio you know barely exists anymore.” Those stormy eyes refusing to meet her gaze by fixating on the gleaming silver ring adoring his finger. “If only you knew, you wouldn’t look at me the same.”

The warmth of her hand sliding into his captures his focus. “If only I knew about what happened during the games? If only I knew about Lucy Gray, and those people you killed? If only I knew how dark your soul feels? I know Corio.”

Snapping to meet her gaze, he feels as if she had knocked the air out of his lungs. How could she possibly know? Why would she be standing here with him? Was she going to hold this over him? A flurry of thoughts stormed behind his eyes, as she only tightened her hold on his large hand.

“Did you really think you could lie to me? I know you better than I know myself. When you came back from District 12, I could see behind those lies you were spewing. I saw the hurt she caused, the trauma you had witnessed, and how it broke the light inside of you.”

For the second time tonight, Coriolanus was speechless. Perhaps she didn’t know whose blood coats his hands, or the exact details of what happened those years ago, but she knew enough. And she was still standing there in front of him.

“And you still care about me?”

“I will always care about you Corio.  Now come on, I want to take you somewhere!”

And with that, she pulled him further into the night.

2:45am

Neither of them had uttered a word since their conversation.

Laid side by side on the refreshing emerald blades of grass as they look towards the stars above, only their subtle breathing filling the air. Despite the silence, the interlocked fingers expressed a thousand words.

A hitched breath broke the still atmosphere of the hilltop.

“Do you love me?”

Her words stopped his heart mid-beat.

“What? Of course, I love you. You are my best friend.” His words flow smoothly, as his thoughts run erratically to concoct the perfect lie.

The grass shuffles as she turns her head to face him. “No, do you love me like I love you?”

Corio continues staring straight towards the constellations, knowing that her alluring eyes could weaken his resolve in mere seconds.

“Because the way I love you is more than someone who loves a best friend. Almost as if you are the only person who makes my heart dizzy with joy. If you don’t love me the same way, it’s okay. Just needed to finally tell you.”

The breeze acts as a ticking clock, emphasising the lack of response from the young man and amplifying the anxiety building in the woman as she faces the stars once more.

Its almost too quiet to be heard, a whisper in the wind, but she hears it clearly. “I do love you the way you love me.”

Turning in unison to face one another, his free hand reaching to caress the toasty skin of her cheek.  Gentle strokes of his chilled fingers, drawing without destination on her skin as the blond builds the courage to speak once more.

“The way I love you terrifies me. You are the only one who brings me happiness, the only one who knows my sorrows, the only one I would sacrifice for. I obsess over you. I want to hold you and protect you. I wish to possess you. All because I love you the way you love me.”

Searching his irises for any fragment of dishonesty, her smile grows as she finds none. Inching closer to the man who has held her heart for a decade, his minty breath invading her senses.

With lips mere millimetres apart, a light whisper leaves her mouth “I’ll be yours Corio, for as long as you are mine. We can possess one another.”

As if those were the only words he ever craved, he intertwined his lips with hers. Soaking in the feeling of ecstasy as his hold on her tightens. She embraced the overwhelming sensation of complete bliss, revelling in every single second as her fingers interlock with his porcelain-locks.

Her lips fit with his so perfectly, it was clear that they were made to possess each other. And now that Panem’s king had his Queen, nothing could break him.

[dira333]

Hurting together - Aizawa x Reader

mentions of Chronic pain, requested by @alienaiver I hope this is in any way what you've imagined.

“Nervous?” Shouta asks after a full 120 seconds of your leg bouncing without stopping.

“Huh?! Oh, oh, I’m sorry!” You scramble to a halt, arm resting on your leg to keep it in place. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to stop now. But if you wanna talk about it, I heard that helps.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t wanna … I don’t wanna annoy anyone,” you mutter, eyes flickering from left to right.

“Do you wanna hear my story then?” He asks, not because it’s something he likes sharing, but you’re cute and what’s the alternative? Staring at the wall until he gets called in.

“Oh, if you… if you don’t mind?”

He huffs out a breath. “Well, apparently it’s not healthy to break a bone every single week.”

“Oh!” Your eyes grow huge. “Every single week? Wait, is it the same bone.”

“No,” he snorts softly, “At least then I’d have a better story. I’m a pro Hero, I just happen to get into fights.”

“And what’s your Hero Name? Fragile Bone?”

It takes him a second to recognize the joke, snorting loudly when he does. You’re snappy, now that the anxiety fades.

“No, it’s uh… Eraser Head.” He waits a second for you to recognize him, the star-struckness to hit. But it doesn’t. Instead, you cock your head to the side and eye him thoroughly. 

“Interesting,” you say, “I remember an Interview you were forced to give a few years back. Uh, I think there was a streaker at the Sports Festival?”

He laughs. “Good Memory. Yeah, that was one of our students. He didn’t have his Quirk under Control back then.”

“And you’ve got a broken bone now? Or is this just a check-up?”

“Bloodwork.”

“Yikes,” you pull a face, “me too. It’s the worst.”

“It is,” he agrees, dares to ask before he can lose his courage again. “Want me to hold your hand through the process?”

And it’s smooth, smoother than he’s ever been able to - maybe the absence of his friends does benefit his ability to flirt - and he might even get his hopes up for a second there - until your face falls.

“That’s really tempting, you know, but I… uh… my hands are hurting. That’s why I’m here, you know, to figure out why they’re hurting like this. So hand-holding is kinda a no-go.”

“Oh, I understand,” the dejection must be audible in his voice because you reach out for him, though you don’t take hold.

“But if you want,” you offer, voice a little breathless, “you could… uh… put your hand on my shoulder? It might look weird, but-”

“I’ve seen weirder things,” he offers and your smile lights up the room.

-

“Oh, I didn’t know you were coming in together,” Doc Oc greets him and for a moment he is paralyzed, frozen between two different emotions. Surprise, because Doc OC’s obviously familiar with you and he’s got the worst memory when it comes to names. Embarrassment, because it’s usually not the best thing if a Doctor remembers you by name, let alone this one.

“Ah,” you smile, “We met in the waiting room. Bloodwork, you now. It’s easier if it’s done together.”

“That I can agree with. Now, who wants to go first?”

-x-

“Now, I believe you owe me something,” Recovery Girl announces one afternoon, a big smile cutting into her wrinkly face. “What’s her name?”

“Huh?” Shouta had been busy reading through this week's assignment, deciphering the texts. Denki’s Handwriting almost requires a PHD in decoding.

“Doc Oc and I have been friends for quite some time. One would call us even… very close… if you know what I mean. He said you brought in lovely company.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess…” He can’t help but blush at her tone. Too much information.

“Well, are you going to ask her out? You cannot count this as your first date, surely? A fancy Dinner is a must.”

“A fancy Dinner is a must for whom?” Hizashi’s leaning around the door and Shouta groans. Of all people to overhear this.

“Shouta’s girlfriend.”

“Shouta has a girlfriend? Shouta, my man, why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you love me anymore? Your best friend?”

He crawls further into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes. Those assignments can wait, if he can fall in to a coma first, he-

-x-

“So?” Rumi leans against your Desk. “Did he call you?”

“Not yet,” you’re chewing on your lower lip, “But he’s probably busy.”

“Busy my ass,” she snorts angrily. “You’re a catch. If he doesn’t get a groove on you’re gone. He should know that.”

You level your friend - and boss - with a glare. “I’ve been single for a year.”

“Which he doesn’t know,” she sings. “But on another note, have you’ve gotten the results from your bloodwork? You know we only need that so we can get started on your hands-free Desktop.”

“Why do you sound more excited about this than I am?”

“Because you’re afraid of change and I am not. Just think, your hands will finally get to rest!”

“Yay,” you wave them around half-heartedly when your phone pings.

Rumi’s already grabbing it from your desk, always faster than you. “Oh, it’s your guy.” She hands it back. “Not looking.”

“Thank you for respecting my privacy,” you joke and open the short text only to gasp.

“He’s asking me out.”

“Great, so he’s not an idiot. Confirm.”

“No, no, he’s asking me out for a date tonight. You know how bad my legs have been today, I can’t show up with a cane.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you drag out, “the last time I did that there was no second date.”

“And you think he’s that shallow?”

“I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Tell him you can’t tonight because you’re working late. Ask him if he’s able to reschedule for tomorrow or Friday.”

You hesitate, but do as you’re told.

“And now,” she grabs your bag as soon as you put your phone down, “you get your cute ass home and rest. I want you as fit as you can be tomorrow so you can enjoy that date.”

“But work-”

“Work is like my ex - it will always wait for you.”

-x-

“Fuck,” Shouta groans, head on his arms. The pain is strong today.

“You… uh… you good?” He hears a familiar voice from the door. Shit, he forgot about training with Hitoshi.

“Fantastic,” he grinds through his teeth though he does not dare to lift his head. Lunch was decent, but he doesn’t want to taste it again.

“Do you need Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m going to be fine. Can you get me my painkillers from my bag? I would, but moving-”

“Sure, sure.” He can hear rustling and then a pill is dropped into his outstretched palm.

Slowly, carefully, he drags his arm back to pop it into his mouth, swallows it dry. He’s got loads of practice.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Uh, if you say so.”

-

He’s got a black eye.

He’s got a black eye and a date in about thirty minutes and the painkillers are making him particularly loopy today.

Hitoshi wouldn’t have been able to hit him in the face if his reaction time hadn’t been so slow. He’s lucky no bone is broken.

Something tells him that it would be better to reschedule, but wouldn’t that make him look disinterested when he’s not?

-

“Mew.” 

Shouta turns to the sound, surprised to see a black cat looking up at him. There’s a hedge there, and he bends down to pet the animal. 

“You’re loud, huh?” He comments on the purring, taking a seat on the ground when his knees turn a little wobbly. He really is getting older. 

The cat disappears into the hedge and he holds out a hand, making little sounds to lure her back out.

Just as he can spot the green eyes blinking back at him, a banknote is dropped into his hand.

“Here,” a voice says, “It’s cold out.”

Shouta freezes, only to look up into your face.

“Uh,” he makes, suddenly envious of Kaminari when he cooks his brain. 

“I didn’t mean-” you say just as he exclaims loudly: “There’s a cat.”

“Where?” You ask, peering into the hedge. “I love cats.”

-x-

“This was nice,” you tell him after Dinner, the episode with the Cat now something you can laugh about. “Would you like to do it again sometimes?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly, “I’m sorry if I was a little loopy today. I took… uh, I forgot to take a nap.”

“Ah,” you smile, “You’re getting old too? If I don’t get my usual lunch nap I’m not so nice to be around.”

Shouta laughs. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. You’re very nice to be around.”

“You think so?” You ask, heart skipping a beat when he nods.

“How are your hands?” He looks down at them, “Can I hold them? Or do they still hurt?”

“If you don’t squeeze them I should be fine,” you say, praying that it’s the truth.

It is a little uncomfortable, if you were to tell the truth, but he’s gentle and your heart blooms at the implications.

If only you could put this moment in a jar, keep it for all the days where it’s hard to get up.

 -

“So?” Rumi leans over your desk, grinning wide. “Gimme the scoop.”

“We went out, it was amazing, I don’t know when I’m going to see him again.”

“That’s not the scoop, that’s a short summary. I want every detail. Also, what does it mean you don’t know when you-”

The ringtone of your phone cuts her off. You take a peak only to gasp.

“It’s him. He’s calling.”

“Well, pick up. I’ll come back as soon as you’re finished. And I want all the details.”

-

It’s hard to find time for another date.

Shouta works two fulltime jobs and you’re overwhelmed with just one.

But he calls or texts every day, sending you pics of cats whenever he’s out on patrol.

It’s nice, but it could be nicer.

When he asks what you’re doing and you’re in bed, pain holding you down, you cannot tell him the truth. Because he doesn’t know the truth. And telling him over the phone seems insensitive.

Sometimes he sounds pretty loopy when he calls and you wonder if he’s getting enough sleep. But when you ask him about it he evades the question so masterfully, that you only remember it hours after the call.

“I think I have to come clean,” you tell Rumi one day during lunch, your hands in thick compression gloves to combat the pain. “This season is hitting me hard and I cannot postpone our next date again just because I cannot go anywhere without a cane.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well. From what you’ve told me about him he seems very nice.”

“Yeah,” you sigh,”so nice I don’t want to lose him.”

-x-

Of all the moments for a migraine to hit, this has to be the worst. 

Okay, maybe the second worst, because he’s not currently fighting someone.

But he’s been pressing his temple against the fridge doors of this Konbini for half an hour now, clearly unsettling the other shoppers, and his painkillers are far, far away in his car’s glove compartment.

Every time he thinks he’s got it now, turning away from the coldness has his lunch rise up in his throat.

“Shouta?” A familiar voice asks and the ice seeps into his veins. It’s you.

“No, I’m not Shouta. You must mistake me for someone else.”

“You’re wearing a nametag. Backward, but you’re wearing it.”

He sighs. “Can you just pretend you’re not seeing me?”

“I could, but why?”

“This is embarrassing.”

“I mistook you for a homeless man, I think we’ve already reached top embarrassment.”

“I’m having a Migraine.”

“See,” he can hear the encouragement in your voice, knows exactly how your mouth curls at the words even if he cannot see it. “That’s very low on the embarrassment list. Do you need a painkiller?”

“Yeah, but they’re in my car.”

“What are you using.”

“I doubt you have that. You can only get it via prescription.”

Shouta names it, hears you chuckle.

“Oh, you bet I got that. One pill is enough, right?”

“Right.” He can hear rustling before a pill is pressed into his hands. He swallows it dry. 

“It will take me a minute to come to my senses.”

“No worry at all. I can stay here with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I want to. By the way… the Bloodwork… was that about your Migraine?”

“Yeah,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “And other stuff.”

“Mhm.” Some more rustling.

“How did you get those pills by the way? You don’t work in a pharmacy, right?”

“Oh, no, I don’t deal drugs if that’s what you’re asking.” You laugh, but it tapes off awkwardly. “I… I suffer from chronic pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh again, but you don’t sound amused. “Yeah, me too.”

Silence settles between them. Slowly, the pain in his head eases into something manageable and he peels himself away from the cool glass to look at you.

You’re staring at the ground, a cane in your hands. 

“I’m going to be pretty loopy for the rest of the day,” he tells you, lump in his throat, “But do you wanna grab a coffee after this?”

The surprise in your eyes tells you what he’d already assumed. You’re not used to people accepting your condition as something that just is. 

“Might ask you some questions as soon as my head works properly again,” he adds like a threat, “but for now I’d just like to look at you. You’re really pretty.”

“You’re really loopy,” you giggle.

“Mhm, it’s going to get even worse, sugardrop.” His hand finds your elbow, careful to avoid your hands and you knock your head lightly against his shoulder.

You’re probably a weird-looking couple to the outside world, but he’s never cared much about that anyway.

[ivys-garden]

Here's a clearer version of the Hermit Falls Zodiac (+ the og Journal Page)

Here's everyone's roles in the au:

Sunbeam & Cresent Moon: Grian & Pearl (Dipper & Mabel) - twins of divorced parents who were sent to a Nowhere town for autumn break to reconnect after being separated. Currently living with their great uncle Scar. When Grian finds a strange journal in the woods he and Pearl become obsessed with uncovering the secrets of this town. Ps, Tilly is Waddles :3

Top Hat: Scar (Stan) - the twins Grunkle and the proprietor of Trader Scars: The House Of Wonders!, a local tourist trap. He seems to spend a lot of time in the basement.

Lowercase i: Impulse (Soos) - local handyman at Trader Scars, father figure for the twins.

Cool S: Skizz (Wendy) - cashier at Trader Scars, generally laid back but will deck you if you hurt his friends

Rocket Ship: Cub (Ford) - genius scientist who lived in Hermit Falls decades ago, Scar says he jumped towns and left the Trader Scars building to him, but no one's heard from him since

Fancy Mustache: Mumbo (McGucket) - local mad inventor living in the junkyard. Insists his name is "Big Ron" Cub always looked guilty when he saw him…

Gemstone: Gem (Pacifica) - daughter of a rich family staying in Hermit Falls on a business trip. gets bored and decides to have a rivalry with Pearl. Just cuz

Old Skull: Cleo (Robbie) - local artist and mortician. Sorta tried to kill Pearl on her first week in Hermit Falls. Tensions were high between them and Grian after that

@ Symbol: Joe Hills (Gidion) - owner of a rival tourist trap: Joe Hills’ Tent O’ Magic, where he puts on dazzling acts of poetry, music, Puppet shows and magic tricks. Everyone seems to like him, but Scar doesn't trust him

Joel (Bill) - interdimensional Demon watching over Gravity Falls. Burt his home dimension to the ground. Still hears her his friends in the back of his mind. Why did he do it?

Will I continue this? Maybe? I'm busy atm but I like the concept. I've sketched some designs but nothing I'm super happy with so far.

Ps If any of yall can come up with a surname that fits Pearl, Grian & Scar (maybe Cub two not devided if him and Scar are brothers yet) that would be cool ;)

Also, well done to @harley-the-pancake & @octopus-defence-squad at correctly decoding almost everything! I'd give you cookies if I could

[wholelottaprompts]

ᡣ𐭩 Emails I Can't Send Prompts ᡣ𐭩

from the album Emails I Can't Send, by Sabrina Carpenter

"And I still make excuses for you constantly."

"Sorry that I pulled the 'it's not you, it's me.'"

"You're not my friend, and baby, you never were."

"It's times like these I wish I had a time machine."

"Whatever, you're a waste of time."

“Oh, so you do have a type."

"Where else can we go?"

"I hate the way you left me dry."

"Give me a second to forget I ever really meant it."

"Don't say sorry now."

"One day, I'll make sure you get a real apology."

"I tried to look for the best in the worst."

"Oh, so you can reply."

"I'm so tired."

"You want me? I'm done."

"I wonder how many things you think about before you get to me."

"You're lucky I'm a private person."

"I'm over that son of a bitch."

"Don't make me cuss you out."

"You're so vicious."

"Nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks I'm fucking rude."

"Why were you somewhere else when you were next to me?"

"I can't help it, it's a habit."

"You act like a bitch."

"I never saw him and we never kissed."

"There's nothing left here to decode."

"Were you lying to me and the family?"

"If you wanted brown eyes, I could have got contacts."

"You don't feel remorse."

"That never made too much sense to me."

"I can't read your mind."

"Why'd you let me down?"

"You knew I would see that."

"Looking at you got me thinking nonsense."

"Bet you wanna love me now."

"How do you do this to me?"

"Tell me what's gonna happen."

"You knew I would notice."

"I'll drive you home."

"I don't even know, I'm talking nonsense."

"I want you there sometimes."

"She looks nothing like me."

"Your signals are mixed."

"Everything reminds me of you."

"I know you know it keeps me up."

"You drive me crazy."

"Chase me."

"Did you even give a fuck?"

"You disgust me."

"Now I'm a homewrecker. I'm a slut."

"Tell me I was more than just a decent opportunity."

"Why do you look so happy?"

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thanks to you, I can't love right."

"I know now even if I tried to change that somehow, you'd end up with her anyway."

"You fit every stereotype."

"Does she step out of the spotlight so you bathe in it?"

"Now I can't even look at you."

"You said I'm too late to be your first love, but I'll always be your favorite."

"I know what you're about to say."

"Does she get up on top of you more than I would?"

"He had it coming."

"I deserve my own consideration."

"I look up from my phone and think there's no chance it's you, but it is."

"He's good for my heart, but he's bad for business."

"I've got death threats filling up semi trucks."

"How am I supposed to close the door when I still need the closure?"

"All my friends think I've gone crazy."

"I care, but I don't."

"Please fucking fix this."

"Tell me that you miss me in your life."

"It feels so good not caring where you are tonight."

"You were all I looked up to."

"Was I being lied to?"

"I got ways to find you anywhere."

"You miss me? No duh."

"Maybe we should do this on purpose sometime."

"It was all so innocent."

"What the fuck is patience?"

"I can't even stomach loving someone else."

"God, I love you, but you're such a dipshit."

"You're good at impersonating someone who cares."

"I bet your house is where my other sock is."

[oddinary4bts]

Love is a Laserquest | choi san

☆summary: years after your break-up, Choi San comes to you for help. In an attempt to save his life, you escape to your uncle's cabin in the woods far from civilization. Will nostalgia and longing make you fall again, or is Choi San just spinning more lies to you?

☆pairing: gangster!Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: gangster au, exes au, angst, smut, a smidge of the one bed trope

☆warnings: guns/gun violence (mentioned), knifes/stabbing (mentioned), a bounty over San's head, death of a minor character (named Jungkook my bad), blood, injuries, stitches, probably some wrong medical terminology bc optometrists don't stitch up people lmao, a panic attack, cursing, pet names, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving) -> face riding, let me know if I forgot any!

☆word count: 16.5k

☆a/n: Here's my submission for Outlaw: The Project hosted by @ssaboala. It is coincidentally my first time posting about another group than bts, so I hope this won't disappoint! I really enjoyed writing it (even though it's really sad oop). Also my first time making a moodboard so hopefully it works haha

☆a/n pt2: thank you to @moonleeai for being my ever-so faithful beta reader, love you lots <3

☆☆☆☆☆

And do you still think love is a Laserquest? Or do you take it all more seriously? I’ve tried to ask you this in some daydreams that I’ve had But you’re always busy being make-believe

Love is a Laserquest – Arctic Monkeys

☆☆☆☆☆

The diner is silent, unoccupied. It always is on late weekday evenings, when most patrons have gone to bed, the city falling under a carpet of hushed silence only night can bring forth. It makes the diner feel like it’s straight out of a 70s movie, and it makes for the perfect study sessions too.

Night isn’t always soundless in your part of town. Hence why you’ve been trying to escape, pursuing an education that has been leaving you penniless, but with a bright future ahead. If you make it out of med school at a certain point, that is.

Tonight, you fear the peace that night usually entails has been ruined for you – there were gunshots earlier, close enough for you to see the police cars racing past as the law officers made it to probably yet another gang fight.

There’s been a gang war on your side of town. The diner has always been safe, a refuge for both sides of the war, where they aren’t allowed to fight. To carry in weapons and hatred. No, the moment they cross the threshold of the diner, the gangsters become one family, sharing struggles that only poverty can cause.

You wipe a table clean before walking back towards the counter. Your open laptop waits for you, and you quickly read the study guide you’ve made for yourself, the cardiovascular system and its pathologies forming a maze in your mind that you’ve yet to decode. Luckily enough, you still have a week before the bloc ends and you have to take the exam.

Plenty of time to cram everything about the heart in your thick little skull, you’d say.

Your lips move in time with what you’re reading, attention solely focused on the bright screen when a thump is heard right outside the door. It startles you, and you turn around to see the empty street out of the glass door.

It takes you about ten seconds to notice the dark form sitting on the ground. They’re leaning against the door, head lolling to the side. You assume it must be someone that’s ended unhoused, something that happens far too often where you live.

You’ve always been kind. When you were younger, you were told your kindness would be your demise. Yet you’ve never been able to be anything but kind, even though sometimes it might put you at risk. So you can’t resist but walk to the front door, trying to push it open.

It’s useless – the weight of the person is keeping it tightly shut, though they do straighten a little, as if coming to their senses. They turn, and the moment their profile comes into view you’re brought back eight years in the past. To a time when the world was still a beautiful place, void of violence and cruelty. To a smile so sweet it made flowers blossom on your heart, and to eyes so sharp you knew they had read your soul.

Choi San is sitting outside the door, and the caked blood on his cheek tells you enough – he’s injured. He pushes away from the door before slowly getting up. He clutches his side as he does it, yet when he turns back towards you and faces your horrified eyes, he still offers you a smirk.

You push the door open, thinking about the years between then and now. You had dated him for a few months that had felt like forever, until you had realized in what kind of business he was getting involved with. You had tried to convince him to flee before it was too late, and he kept promising that he would.

Only he never did, hiding lies with beautiful words that made your teenage self swoon, until your parents had realized and forced you to break up. It had been a nasty break-up, filled with hatred and words you didn’t mean yet had needed to say for him to leave.

You remember breaking his heart like it was yesterday.

“Choi San,” you greet him, and when he lets go of his side, you notice blood on his hand.

Something runs cold inside of you, even though he still sports a smirk on his lips.

He says your name, bowing his head. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Months, in fact. Because he does come to the diner sometimes. He usually ignores you, and so do you, so it feels strange to have him speak to you. To hear his voice as his words are addressed to you.

“What…” you trail off, glancing down at the ripped fabric of his black tank top.

He’s got a mean cut on his ribs, and it’s only then that you truly realize that he’s badly injured. Because there’s more – one of his biceps has been sliced open too, though blood is barely oozing out of it in small rivulets. The blood on his cheek is from where you assume he’s been punched with rings, and there’s already an underlying bruise under his eye.

“Got beaten up,” he states the obvious, and you immediately open the door wider to let him in.

He limps in, heading towards the nearest booth, where he plops down and lets out a pained grunt. You make sure no one is outside before shutting the door and locking it, flipping the hanging sign on it so it says closed in case a patron decides to show up.

You take a few steps towards San, hands shaking slightly at your side. Because that’s a grown man, bleeding out on the leather seat of the booth, and his eyes are shut though he looks in pain. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You haven’t yet started your residency, haven’t really gone from theory to practice… Yet you’re studying to be a doctor, are you not?

“Why are you here?” you ask, though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he says, wincing as one of his eyes opens. He tilts his head to look towards you. “Word around the block says…” he pauses, takes a deep breath before continuing, “that you’re studying to be a doctor”.

So you are right. He’s here because he needs your help, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Why…” You look for words, and it takes you a moment to realize that it doesn’t matter.

For all the history between you and him, Choi San doesn’t deserve to bleed out to death on a cheap leather seat in a forgotten diner on the dangerous side of town.

He has the decency to chuckle at the start of your question, which only makes him wince in pain once again.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and it’s a little stupid because clearly, he’s in no state to move.

He doesn’t question it, and you run to the kitchen to thoroughly wash your hands and grab the first aid kit. At night, no cooks stay around, and you usually only reheat food if needed, which doesn’t really happen. You haven’t had any client coming in at night in weeks… until San, that is. So no one is there to see what is going on, which you reckon is a relief. Because you have no idea what’s going on.

You return to the booth where San is waiting, patiently. He’s clearly wiped his hand on his face because there’s fresh blood on his forehead, and you almost balk at the sight of it.

“What have you done?” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

It seems he’s still in sync with you because he still hears. “Got involved with the wrong crowd.”

You put the first aid kit down on the table, ignoring his eyes when they flutter open, and he rests his gaze on you.

“I don’t know if I can help you,” you say as you unzip the kit and throw it open. You spare his side a quick glance. “This looks like you’re going to need stitches.”

He makes an effort of looking down at himself, though it mostly fails as he doesn’t raise his head from the seat. “Right.”

You grab everything you think you might need – alcohol swabs to clean his skin, fresh linen to bandage his side and arm, and stuff for his cheek too. He carefully observes you, with that piercing gaze of his that used to make you go crazy inside when you were young and impressionable.

You vaguely motion at him, and he cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask. “I can’t reach you if you’re lying back like this.”

His pink tongue darts to wet his lips, and he nods curtly. “Let me…” he trails off, resting a bloody hand on the table while he grabs at the back of the booth to push himself up. It has new blood appearing on his side, and you quickly move towards him, putting some linen against it.

As if it’s going to do anything. He clearly needs stitches, and you’ve got nothing with you to stitch him up.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly as he’s finally sitting. You just keep the linen on his side, eyes a little wide.

Your gazes connect inevitably, and time slows. You think about how he used to smile, how his eyes used to hold a softness you haven’t had the chance to see again since he’s walked out of your life.

Or rather, since you kicked him out of your life.

“I don’t think I can help,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker to your lips.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” he admits, shame turning his features into a mask of regret. “They… If they find me, I’m dead.”

Dread fills every ounce of your being. “San, what have you been doing?”

He looks away from your insistent gaze, scoffing slightly. “You don’t want to know.”

He isn’t wrong; you genuinely don’t want to know. Because he means nothing good, even with all the memories you share with him.

“Is it going to put me in danger?” you ask, as he still obstinately avoids your gaze.

He seems to freeze in front of you, as if you’ve pressed pause to your favourite show. To avoid the awkwardness, you busy yourself with grabbing one of his hands so he can hold the linen in place before you start washing the cut on his arm. It’s not deep, but you’re pretty sure it’ll still leave a mean scar, especially considering he can’t go to the hospital.

The thought has a drop of cold sweat roll along your spine. People want him dead. People want Choi San, the man you know as a young, scared teenager just trying to find a way to make his life better, dead. You remember the innocence in his smile – has he smiled at all in the years apart?

“I should go,” he says flatly. He moves to stand, but you hold him down, two hands firmly placed on his shoulders. It makes him wince, and you quickly release your grip.

“Don’t,” you tell him. “Let me at least patch you up.”

His eyes shut again as his head hangs low. “I am so sorry.”

You don’t even know who he is apologizing to, or why he is. All you know is that it causes your heart to clench in your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you were younger, you believed San was your star-crossed lover. You believed your high school sweethearts romance would grow until you’d be old and grey and at the end of a very long road. You had dreamed of a future with him, the way only teenagers can dream – with no sense of reality. Because your reality had never been to end up by his side.

His choices had been proof enough of it.

You still remember the day you first kissed. Under an August meteor shower, with just the night sky as your witness. It had been hesitant, slow and soft, just like everything with San. And you had believed the lie, trusted it with every beat of your little heart, until your parents had found out the truth about him.

Until they had broken your heart, even before you had broken his.

If the stars had known then, what was going to happen to you and Choi San, would they still have shone through the night?

He lets out a pained sound as you gently dab at the cut on his bicep. You clean the skin around the wound in and of itself, and he watches you carefully, piercing gaze not missing how your face clouds with memories.

“How have you been doing?” he asks so softly you think his words are a gentle summer breeze on your features.

You can almost still smell the summer night air of that field where you had stargazed, where you’d always meet so long ago.

“I’ve been okay,” you answer, truthfully. Because even though you haven’t seen him, you have lived your life apart from him. Have evolved without him by your side. “Better than you, visibly.”

He didn’t expect the joke. It makes him snort, and then a soft smile grows on his lips, softening the edges of his hard features. “You haven’t changed.”

You have, and yet you haven’t. Like him, you think there’s a part of you that is still sixteen, and will forever be. A part of you that remained stuck in the moment when you watched him walk away in the rain, as if even the sky had to cry for his broken heart.

“Wish I could say the same about you,” you murmur, nostalgia a melancholic song in your words.

He chooses to remain silent, because the proof of how much he’s changed is sitting right in front of you, wounded and bleeding and hurt. The hurt is behind his eyes, in the shadows of the past that have also been obscuring your vision.

“Yeah,” he lets out, barely audible.

And then silence reigns between you, because as much as you once loved him, eight years have made you strangers. You don’t know anything about his life except the dirty, obvious darkness that surrounds him, and he doesn’t know anything except that you are studying to be a doctor…

Which leads you to wonder how does he know in the first place?

You ask him, as you’re wrapping the linen around his bicep to make a makeshift bandage. You’re proud of the result, though your fingers can’t resist but linger on the taut skin over his muscle, surprised at how soft it still is.

“I’ve heard you mention it,” he admits, as you take a step away to look at the material on the table, as if it’ll suddenly make stitches appear for you to put them in his skin. “One of the times I was here.”

“You never said hi,” you reproach him, unable to hide the ghost of a bite in your tone.

“Neither did you,” he points out, and he isn’t wrong.

All you can do is purse your lips as you finally decide to clean his skin. But for that, you have to rid him of his tank top, to make sure there’s no fabric in the wound. You look at him, cheeks somehow burning even though all you’re doing is taking care of a patient.

Though he’s not a patient, and you’re not in a hospital. You’re just a server at a dusty, old diner and he’s just your teenage lover, wounded by his dangerous actions.

“Should I grab scissors to remove your shirt?” you ask, though you’re speaking to yourself more than to him.

He still finds it in him to tease. “You want me out of my shirt?” he enquires, smirk gracing his lips again. “Say no more.”

He tries moving, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you warn. “You’ll make it bleed more.”

He purses his lips, because nodding. “Right.” He glances at the first aid kit, before his eyes trail to your face again. “You got scissors in that?”

There are. You grab them, before turning towards him. It feels strange: you’ve never undressed him before. You had always wanted to wait, back then, before you slept together. You believed you were too young, and San had always respected it.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” you tell him as you take a step closer to him.

He slightly leans back, furrowing his eyebrows. “What do you plan to do with those that might hurt?”

You roll your eyes, playfully, before taking the two other steps leading to right in front of his legs. You notice that they are slightly parted, allowing you to come closer, and you take a steadying breath before reaching between you, pulling at the fabric of his tank top.

“Stay still and you shouldn’t get hurt,” you whisper, ignoring the heaviness of his piercing gaze on you.

It burns right through you, and you have to tame the beats of your heart at the feeling of the warm skin of his shoulder against the back of your fingers as you bring your other hand forward, until you’ve started cutting his shirt.

It’s stuck to his side where blood has dried, and he winces but remains still and silent as you keep going, pulling on it a little harder to be able to cut. The moment stretches into infinity, because you can’t help but take your time. It reminds you of how you’d used to run your fingers on his back, under his shirt, when you napped in the field in the summertime. In an idyllic world where gangs and violence and war were mere inventions of the media, and not a reality that surrounded you.

You’d loved the field. The wildflowers, the open air, the way it was just you and him and a few lazy bumblebees as clouds lazily crossed the sky above. You were so young then, so innocent. Hands unstained from blood, from his blood.

Because as you cut, the hand touching his shirt stains with blood. You pale at the sight of it, but you keep going, pushing through until you’re done, gently pulling the fabric from his body until he’s sitting there, shirtless, with a long wound on his ribs.

You can’t help but notice his toned chest and the defined abs on his stomach. Though blood mars his skin, turning it into a piece of violence, Choi San is still beautiful. Beautiful in a dark, dangerous way that has you glance outside, making sure no one is looking.

But the streets are empty, void of life at this time of the night. At least, they mostly always are.

“You will need stitches,” you state again as if you both don’t know already.

“I can’t…”

An idea forms in your brain. It’s a stupid idea, and you don’t even know why it crosses your mind.

Your uncle has a hunting cabin far in the woods. He’s a nurse himself, and he’s always kept everything over there in case someone got injured and he had to stitch them up. You haven’t gone in forever, but you still remember the tall trees, the deep forest scent that reminds you of autumn and leaves and grey days spent reading by the fireplace.

You never went hunting, but you did accompany your father when he went, needing an escape from the city once in a while. An escape from a life that was slowly becoming too real.

Your uncle is currently halfway across the country, so you know you’d be alone at the cabin. You glance at your laptop over your shoulder – you have three days off in front of you before your next class on Monday. Indeed, the Friday class is pre-recorded and to watch online in your free time, and you figure you can always watch it some other time.

So you turn towards Choi San, almost surprised that he’s real and he’s still sitting in front of you, honey skin cut open on his ribs.

“I might know a place where you can go,” you admit, with a small voice, surprising both you and him. Because you doubt he expects you to want to help, after tonight.

“What?” he asks.

“My uncle’s cabin,” you remind him, because you’ve told him about it all those years ago. “He should have all that I need to stitch you up.”

San looks down at himself. “You’ve just cut my shirt open.”

It sounds a little dumbfounded, and you can’t help the nervous laugh that falls from your mouth. Because even though it doesn’t look too deep, the wound still is terrifying in and of itself.

“I’ll bandage it,” you whisper. “Before we go.”

He seems like he ponders for a time. You watch the debate across his features, his eyes falling to a spot on your chin. He looks sad, troubled and defeated. “I can’t… I can’t do this to you.”

You ignore his words, carefully washing his side. You avoid the cut and try to be as gentle as you can, but his muscles still flex as he clenches his fists from the pain.

He’s strong. That much hasn’t changed. Because he doesn’t make any sound as you finish washing him and then patch him up with those same careful hands. And when you move to his face, cleaning the blood, his eyes flutter shut, and he sighs softly.

He looks so much like he looked then that your heart aches, and you find yourself blinking away tears for this man who’s had it so rough he believed joining a gang would save him.

“I should have come to you before,” he murmurs. “You’re much gentler than Hongjoong.”

You don’t know the guy he mentioned, and you don’t feel like asking. Don’t feel like acknowledging his words, so you just finish with his cheek before stepping away from the peaceful aura that was treacherously pulling you in.

Like all those years ago, you reckon.

“Let me make a call,” you say, turning away from him as you move to the counter. You feel the weight of his eyes between your shoulder blades as you get your phone from next to your laptop. You call your boss, and as someone that’s never called in sick before, you feel anxiety flush through you.

Because you’re not sick. And how could you tell him that you need to take care of your ex-boyfriend of eight years ago?

Seokhyun picks up on the first ring, voice groggy with sleep when he mutters, “Hello?”

“Boss,” you greet him. You scrape your throat and spare a look towards San who’s watching you curiously. “An emergency came up, and I have to leave the diner.” You swallow the lump in your throat that’s formed from lying, and then you add, “There haven’t been any customers all night, so I was wondering… would you be comfortable with me closing for the rest of the night?”

Your boss says your name, a little reproachfully. But then he sighs, because he knows just as well as you what a good employee you’ve always been. “Are you going to be able to come in tomorrow night?” he asks.

You pull at dry skin on your bottom lip, assessing San’s state. You could always come back to the city for work…

“You know what, I know you’ve got that big exam coming up,” your boss says, sighing into the phone. “Why don’t you take the next week off so you can take care of your emergency and focus on your studies?”

If Seokhyun wasn’t a fifty-three year old married and father of three children man, you think you’d ask him to marry you right now.

“That would be really helpful,” you tell him, gratitude dripping from your voice. “Are you sure that won’t be a problem for the diner?”

“The diner won’t lose profit if it closes for three nights in the week,” he points out. “I’ll see if I can get you replaced for the evening shift on Sunday.”

You thank him again as he grumbles that it’s nothing. He wishes you good luck, and when the line goes silent, you finally meet San’s gaze again.

“All sorted out,” you tell him, offering him a nod. “Let me just close the diner, and then we can go.”

He nods, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He observes you as you do so, quickly closing the diner like you’ve done about a hundred times before, though this time you’re far more excited to go. You grab a plastic bag to put away the bloody swabs, and though he groans in pain, San gets up to help you clean the blood that stained the cheap leather of the booth.

Soon enough, you’re ready to go, and you walk outside with the plastic bag in one hand and your backpack on your shoulders as San chuckles, looking down at himself.

“Do you have a shirt for me?” he asks as he follows you out.

You lock the door behind you before glancing at him. He’s quite the sight, naked from the waist up and bandaged like he is, and you can’t help the small chuckle you let out as you glance towards your car, that’s luckily parked right in front.

Though it’s a deadbeat car, you trust it enough to know it’ll make the trip to your uncle’s cabin, even in the middle of the night.

“My ex left some sweaters on the back seat,” you admit as you unlock your car doors and open the trunk to put your backpack and the plastic bag in there. There’s no chance in hell you’ll leave a plastic bag full of bloody swabs near your work.

You see San nod from the periphery of your vision, and then he’s opening the door to the backseat. “Your ex, huh?” he mutters as he grabs a sweater you used to love wearing and that you haven’t convinced yourself to give back to Hyunmin.

He carefully puts it on, and you’re pretty sure just the motion is going to make blood seep through the bandage. Somehow, you don’t care that it might stain Hyunmin’s sweater.

Hyunmin was a cheater, and even though you never really loved him, it took you months before you found the strength to break up with him. Needless to say, he doesn’t deserve his clothes back.

“Yeah,” you flatly say as you move towards the driver’s seat. You sit, and San follows you, naturally, as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

As you turn the keys in the engine, San asks, “Have you dated a lot?”

You bristle at the question, shooting him an embarrassed look. “Have you?”

“No,” he replies, features fully serious.

You purse your lips, focusing on the road as you start driving. You need to put gas in the car if you want to get to your uncle’s cabin, so you make your way towards the closest one. It takes you a moment before you register how San has stiffened next to you.

“Can we…” he trails off, and he sinks in the seat, trying to hide. “I can’t be seen here.”

You immediately press on the accelerator, and your car speeds down the street as you pass in front of the gas station. You glance at San only when you’re stopped at a red light. He’s pulled the hood of the sweater over his features, and he’s doing his best to hide.

“Where can we stop?” you ask.

“Next town over,” he answers. “I just can’t be seen in Bangtan territory.”

Right. You have no knowledge of how the gangs have divided your city, but you’re not surprised Bangtan has this part of town. It’s the industrial area, and you assume there’s a lot of money to be made around here.

“Sounds good,” you gently say, and then you’re driving again, the light turning green, allowing you to speed away into the night.

You drive silently all the way to the next town, watching your city disappear to be replaced by trees until buildings reappear. San is looking outside the window, and you can’t help but wonder how he’s been doing, truly. How he managed to get injured like he is right now, and mostly, if his dreams of running away still occupy his thoughts.

He had begged you, the evening you had broken up with him. Told you he’d make enough money to be able to move with you across the country and build yourself a nice little life over there. You had wanted to believe him for so long, until your parents had opened your eyes on just how he was trying to make money.

“Do you need anything?” you ask as you finally reach the gas station, pulling into the driveway. You park next to a pump, turning to face him only to find him already watching you.

“I don’t have money to pay for food,” he admits. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I lost my wallet in the… altercation.”

You gently put a hand on his forearm. “Hey, my treat. We have to eat.”

He inhales deeply, letting out the breath slowly, before he nods. “Alright. I owe you.”

You reckon he’ll owe you for a lot more than just food at a gas station, but you choose not to say it. Not when you feel like someone’s watching over your shoulder, watching you drive away in the night with the person they are looking for.

You know it’s paranoia. No one followed you out of the city and into this town. It just feels too strange to have him here, with you. In your car, on the way to your uncle’s cabin, as if eight years have gone out the window. As if you can still be young and innocent.

It’s stupid, because you can’t. Time has changed him; time has changed you. And in just a few years you’ll be a doctor, and you’ll finally get out of this hellhole of a city, of its dangerous streets.

Of its equally dangerous man, that you know could probably pull you back in with one of his many well-crafted lies, one of the dreams he weaved expertly, whispering it into your ear.

You take a deep breath before getting out of the car. You go into the station, grab snacks for the next few days and then head to the counter. The guy behind nods as you approach, and you pay for the food and for gas before wishing him a good night and returning outside. San is still squatting in the car, clearly trying to hide, and you put the food on the backseat before putting gas in.

You watch his profile as you put gas in the car. Back when you were dating, his features weren’t as sharp, as glass-cutting as they now are. He used to sport a rounder face, but today you wonder if you’d get a papercut on his jaw. You wouldn’t even be surprised.

When you’re done with gas, you sit back next to him, and you quickly bring the engine back to life before pulling out in the street. As soon as you exit the city, darkness falls on the two of you, tall trees standing on the two sides of the road again. San doesn’t speak much, and it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s dozing off next to you.

“Hey, everything okay?” you ask, suddenly worried that he might have lost too much blood. Which, you reckon, you should have thought about earlier.

He sighs, glancing towards you. “Just tired.”

“Don’t…” you trail off. “Don’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles. “You’re afraid I’m going to die on you?”

“Choi San,” you warn. “Don’t you dare say stuff like that.”

He smiles, but you reckon he’s a little pale. Or at least you think he is, in the silver light of the moon up above. “I think I’m fine. Just…” He offers you a weak smile, though you’ve returned your attention on the winding road. “Just exhausted. I haven’t slept in three days.”

Worry clutches your heart, and you nibble at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “What’s been going on?”

He slightly shrugs. “I can’t tell you. I don’t want to put you in danger…”

“Am I not already in danger by just helping you?”

The silence is telling enough. And it remains for a while until San finally speaks.

“I was in a gunfight a week ago. Accidentally shot the youngest member of the other gang. He didn’t make it, and the gang has put a bounty on my head. Ateez took my gun and told me to run; I laughed in their face and said I wasn’t a coward. Then I got attacked by two guys with knives earlier, and I made it to the diner because I had nowhere else to go.”

Now the silence is deafening, heavy, and you think you’ve altogether stopped breathing. You’re struck with an image of San in the summer sun, smiling wide as he put a flower behind your ear, claiming you were the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The contrast with who he is now – a product of night, shrouded in darkness with no hint of that smile on his lips – is stark. And you wonder when’s the last time he has seen the sun, when’s the last time his life wasn’t violence like this.

When you say nothing, he scoffs, resting his head against the window as if it’d allow him to escape. Because clearly he wants to escape – he’s just told you that he’s killed someone after all.

And you don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to react to someone confessing murder. All you can do is stare at the street ahead, hoping you won’t end up in a gunfight with San. Because where would that lead you, other than in the dramatics of death?

You don’t speak for the rest of the ride. You don’t think he sleeps either, and dawn is clinging to the far horizon when you get to your uncle’s cabin, in a secluded forest that seems straight out of a fairytale. Instead of bringing you awe like it usually does, the sight of it makes you think of all the murder mysteries you had been obsessed with when you were younger, before you realized how horrible the real world truly is.

Neither of you move, as you turn off the engine of the car, and you fall into even more of a tensed silence, though this time you can hear the chirping of the early birds. It’s peaceful, so peaceful you can barely even grasp how tangible the presence of San is next to you. The presence of his actions too, looming between the two of you like a sword of Damocles.

You move first. Putting a hand on the knob, hoping to escape the heaviness into the dawn. San speaks before you can though, and your heart stops in your chest.

“I never meant for him to get hurt,” he murmurs, and you think he’s speaking to himself more than to you. “Everything went too fast, my gun was in my hand and I just… in situations like these, you don’t have time to think.” He leans his head against the headrest, eyes closing. “All I can picture since it’s happened is him falling and blood. Like a fucking blossoming rose, all around him.” He rests his closed fist on his forehead, rubbing it hard. “I haven’t been able to sleep; I’ve been sick every time I’ve tried to eat…”

“San,” you interrupt as you break and break for him. Because this is the San you know. This is the young boy that just wanted to escape and live in a better world. You can almost taste his remorse, taste his regret and shame. It’s poisonous, treacherous, a slippery slope that can’t lead anywhere good. “Let’s get you in. I want to get that cut on your ribs checked.”

He falls silent, and for a moment you feel guilty. Because what if he had more to say? You don’t even think you would have been able to listen. You need the escape, and you know he’ll permit it. Because the man next to you is a broken man, a fracture of what he could have been.

You step out of the car, blinking away tears – from the anxiety, from the exhaustion, and perhaps even from the pain you feel for him. He follows you, wincing as he swings his legs out of the car. He stumbles a little as he stands, but soon enough, he grows steady on his feet, and his attention moves to you. You climb the stairs of the cabin, lifting the rug to find the small trap that leads to the spare key. The padlock is rusted, but it stands strong as you put in the code, and a click is heard when you pull on it.

A few seconds later, you’ve unlocked the front door, pushing it open to reveal the cabin as you remember it. Not a single item is out of place, though dust covers everything, a clear indication that no one has been here in years. You let San in, before going back to the car to get the food you bought, bringing it in and putting it in the fridge. Three full gas canisters hide under the counter, and you sigh in relief – you’ll be able to get the generator on for some electricity.

You motion to the kitchen table. “Have a seat,” you tell San, who somehow looks like a lost puppy. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He nods, remaining silent, eyes downcast. You only move when he’s seated, heading to the bathroom area of the cabin, where you startle a spider that almost makes you scream out loud. You keep it in, heart beating out of your chest as you get the kit before moving back into the main area.

San is leaning against the chair, eyes closed. He senses you approaching, and one of his eyes cracks open to watch you carefully, a little like he did earlier, at the diner. It looks so similar to how he used to look at you, when you joined him at the field, that you stop in your tracks, heart squeezing once again.

You don’t like the way Choi San is making you feel, that’s for sure.

“Take off the sweater,” you tell him, putting the kit down on the table. You put some clean linen next to it, to put what you need over it, before washing your hands with the disinfectant you find in the kit. You put latex gloves on after, and then you fish wire and a surgical needle from the first aid kit that you carefully put down on the linen once you’ve torn the packages open.

As you were doing all of that, San took off the shirt, struggling a little as it meant he had to lift his right arm, which pulled at the skin of his ribs, where the cut clearly has started bleeding again. Though, if you’re honest to yourself, you’re pretty sure he’s been bleeding this whole time, even though it probably was just some fine rivulets.

Indeed, the cut isn’t all that deep, you remind yourself. Mostly because you don’t want to even think about the consequences of the blood loss. As long as he stays awake, you figure he’s fine – he would have lost consciousness a while ago if he was losing a lot of blood.

You remove the bandage you had carefully put in place earlier, wincing at the sight of the blood that’s seeped through it. San keeps his eyes close, lets you clean his skin again in peace, and you feel sick to your stomach as you realize you don’t have any anesthetics for the pain that stitching him up will cause. Indeed, the pocket in which your uncle usually leaves the lidocaine is empty, and you remember that he’s had to use it for your dad when he accidentally cut himself with a machete last summer.

“Huh,” you let out. You chuckle nervously. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

His eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw. “Don’t worry about it.”

You worry at your bottom lip, holding his gaze as you gauge if he’s serious. When his gaze doesn’t falter, you offer him a curt nod, before getting the wire and needle ready under his watchful eyes.

You hand him some linen. “To bite on,” you explain as he just cocks an eyebrow quizzically. That makes his gaze widen a little as if he’s just now realizing how serious you were about it hurting, but he takes it nonetheless.

You think about the theory of how to stitch someone up. It was in your previous block – you watched hours of videos of it in an attempt to desensitize yourself to it. You don’t think it compares to the real thing, but at least you’re somehow confident of what you’re doing when you start.

San startles, groaning in pain, and you offer him a glare. “Don’t move, or it’ll be worse.”

A drop of sweat rolls down his temple, but he still nods. Even as you keep on stitching him, he remains as still as he physically can, though you don’t think he even notices how he’s trembling. Or maybe that’s you – you don’t even know.

Somehow, you make it through the whole thing. You think San might have passed out at some point, but he’s wide awake when you finish the knot to keep the stitches in place, looking up to meet his face.

He’s panting and tears of pain wet his waterline. He blinks them away as he takes the linen out of his mouth, dropping it on the table.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“Let me…” you trail off, mind set on getting something to at least help him cool off, because he’s clearly been heating up.

You grab a washcloth and a small bucket, and head outside to walk down to the lake. You fill the bucket halfway, and take a few seconds to observe the calm surrounding you, hoping that it can ease the nerves rolling inside your heart like dark clouds do on the horizon whenever a storm is coming. You feel it in your bones – you have a murderer in your uncle’s cabin.

You have to keep that in mind. To not let Choi San in like you did when you were a young impressionable teenager.

You sigh, closing your eyes to breathe in the fresh morning air. The sun is peaking over the horizon now, and you bask in its hesitant rays for all of twenty seconds before you convince yourself to go back in. You’ve got a patient to take care of, after all.

San hasn’t moved an inch while you were outside. The only indication that he hasn’t died on you is the groan he lets out as you put the wet washcloth on his forehead. You tap his cheek gently, as if to say, ‘suck it up, I’m just trying to take care of you’.

Which is exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?

You watch him carefully for a few seconds before tapping his shoulder this time around.

“There’s a bed,” you remind him. “You’d be better passing out in a bed.”

He groans again, cracking an eye open. “I’ve just been repeatedly poked with a needle,” he drawls. “Give me a second.”

It makes you laugh. Because of the nerves, maybe. You’re not quite sure. All you know is that you’re laughing, and San opens his second eye to look at you as if you’re crazy. And you laugh for longer than you should – you’re exhausted after all, especially considering you haven’t slept since yesterday morning. So far, adrenaline has been keeping you going, but you can tell you’re about to crash.

“Sorry,” you apologize once you calm down. “This has just been…”

“A lot,” San finishes for you. “I know.”

You nod once before glancing at the doorway to the bedroom. It has no door, as your uncle and your dad usually come here alone and they don’t mind sharing a bed. It makes you realize that you’ll have to share it with San, which you reckon you should have thought about before. Because there’s no way in hell you’ll share a bed with him, especially after he’s told you why he’s being hunted.

There’s always the option of going into town later today so you can get a sleeping bag and floor mat to sleep on. But you’re far too tired right now to even consider driving, so you motion to the bed once again.

“Stick to your side; I’ll stick to mine.”

He smirks though he’s extremely pale. A lot paler than he was before, and you swallow a sudden lump in your throat. Because what if he dies? What are you supposed to do with him if he dies?

“You’ll have to help me to get to the bed ‘cause I don’t think I can move,” he says once his smirk dies. He curses under his breath. “I’m so pathetic.”

You put your hand on his shoulder again, reassuringly, eyes holding his. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re hurt. Everyone is pathetic when they’re hurt.”

He gulps before nodding once. It takes everything in you not to offer him more comfort because you feel like the slope would tilt forwards far too much if you did. Instead, you help him to get up, wincing as he puts most of his weight on you, clutching his side with one hand. You’re infinitely aware of how his skin is sticky with sweat, but you ignore it as you slowly walk to the bedroom.

You can only hope the stitches will hold because you don’t think he’d be able to withstand another round of them.

You finally reach the bedroom and help San sit on the side of the bed. He sighs, eyes shut tightly, and he doesn’t move for a time. When he does, it’s to stiffly lie down on his side.

“You might want to sleep on your back,” you inform him. “I don’t want you rolling around and messing up the stitches.”

He glares at you, though he looks like he’s already half out of it. You hold his gaze until he gives in, turning on his back with a deep sigh. You arrange pillows around him to make sure he’s not moving, and by the time you’re done, his breathing has already evened out.

For a moment, you just watch him sleep. You see him in the field where young love blossomed like a trillion wildflowers. You can almost breathe his pollen again, can almost feel the softness of his skin under your fingertips.

But he’s not what he used to be. Back then, you felt like you had discovered something new. Love, infatuation, affection, and desire, all in the form of the man sleeping next to you. You’d used to kiss, dance and sing to a song only your souls knew, and now you don’t think you recognize him anymore.

As much as he is him, he’s also but just the ghost of what he was. He’s trouble, danger in the shape of innocence, and you recall his words from earlier. You recall the despair, the regret and sorrow that haunted him after he told you. You can’t let him get to your head.

You reckon sleep might help. Though you’re afraid he’s going to waste away in his sleep, so you set up an alarm every hour, before climbing on the other side of the bed. You don’t pull on the covers, mostly because the cabin is warm, and you can imagine it’s just going to get hotter as the sun goes up and the summer heat slowly sizzles into the countryside.

It’s a good thing you put an alarm on. Because when it rings an hour later, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You’re pretty sure the second your head touched the mattress, you were out to the land of dreams. You groan, mostly because you’ve got a slight headache, but you power through it to make sure San is still breathing.

When you see his chest moving up and down steadily, you let yourself fall back asleep.

This goes on for the whole morning, and you only force yourself to stay up when your phone shows that it’s passed noon. As you had suspected earlier, the cabin has gotten extremely warm, so you force yourself out of bed to open all the windows, and then you use the washcloth from earlier to gently wash San’s face of the sweat.

He doesn’t even flinch in his sleep, but he’s still breathing and for now, that’s all that matters.

You head back to the main room, grabbing a pack of chips from where you had left the food earlier, and then you move outside to sit by the lake. Mostly because you need to put distance between you and San, but also just because the childhood memories of this place have you in their hold, and they’ve decided to make you miss the times when you’d swim around with your cousins before both of them had moved out of town.

One day, it’s going to be you too. You already know where you’d go – on the other side of the country, as far away from here as possible. You just want to forget all about the place you grew up in, and you know that, in a few years, you will have forgotten.

Though you’re pretty sure a certain piercing gaze will haunt you forever, especially after the events of today.

When another hour passes, you head back inside, putting the empty bag of chips in the trash before you check up on San. He’s still asleep, but this time he doesn’t look as pale as he did earlier. You assume it’s going to take him a while before he wakes, so you head to the nearest town to grab more food. Mostly to busy yourself, but also just because you know San will need a place to hide for a lot longer than just the weekend. Might as well make sure you have enough for him to survive a couple of days. In town, you also stop to eat at a small café on a small terrasse in the shade of a few trees, and then you grab the food you think you might need at the grocery store.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when you get back, realizing that you forgot to buy a floor mat. As you spy San, who hasn’t moved an inch since he’s fallen asleep, you figure that sleeping next to him tonight should be fine.

As long as his presence in your vicinity doesn’t drag you down memory lane again.

You bought some meat in town, so you head to the little shack outside where the generator is hiding. There’s a gas canister right next to it – also full – and you busy yourself for the next twenty minutes trying to figure out how to get it started. When it finally rumbles to life, you head back inside to put the meat in the fridge, which has finally come to life.

When you hear a groan, you quickly jog to San’s side, fully expecting to find him awake. Surprisingly, he’s still asleep, and you stay next to him for a full minute, thinking he might groan again, though he remains entirely silent.

If it wasn’t for his chest moving up and down steadily, you’d believe him to be dead. But now that a few hours have passed, you’re pretty positive he’ll make it, though he’s probably going to sleep through the day and possibly through the next one too.

Which leaves you in the most peaceful atmosphere you’ve been in for a while, with the opportunity to study as you listen to the rush of wind in the leaves of the tall trees surrounding the cabin. You sit outside, this time near the fireplace, and you study until your stomach grumbles, indicating that it is time for you to cook.

You cook the meat you’ve bought on the grill outside, feeling thankful that your dad once showed you how to use it. You go back in to grab a bottle of water before you eat, and you’re bent in the fridge when you hear San moan again, and this time it sounds like he’s saying something.

You gently close the fridge, making your way to the bedroom. San hasn’t moved, but his features are creased in a frown, and sweat is rolling down his temples. You wet the washcloth, gently wipe his face, and you’re about to leave when he moans again.

It takes you far too long to realize he’s apologizing. What for, you can’t really tell. Though you remember his troubled eyes this morning, you remember his story, and your heart breaks in your chest.

He’s haunted. You think the ghost of the dead guy will probably haunt him for the rest of his life. And suddenly you’re struck thinking maybe, maybe if you hadn’t broken his heart all those years ago, you could have saved him from the gang.

Maybe you could have opened his eyes.

You still remember the break-up like it was yesterday. You remember the rain, him leaving without once looking back, but mostly you remember the words you had uttered. Ghosts of their own, that feel more real now that he’s come back into your life.

*****

                “You’re going to get hurt!” you yelled. “You’ll get hurt, San. What are you thinking?”

He scoffed, shaking his head, and little droplets of water shot all around him. “I’ll be careful. We need the money if we ever want to make it out of this shit town.”

You blinked away tears, folding your arms on your chest as you tried to keep your heart from breaking. Though you reckoned it had broken when your parents had told you what they knew about San. When your father had mentioned Ateez, and you’d truly realized what it meant that he was part of a gang. San, your sweet, soft, and bubbly San, in a gang that had murdered someone just a few weeks ago.

“But that’s not a way to make money!” you screamed, hoping he’d understand. Hoping he’d hear the truth in your words, hoping he’d change his mind before it was too late. “Why don’t you get a part-time job, like me? Then we can go to college and get jobs in a nice city on the other side of the country!”

“It won’t work,” he drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want to be out soon, not in a few years. I barely even have a roof over my head, Y/n…”

“Come live with me,” you choked out around the lump in your throat.

You both knew fully well that your parents would never let him come near you again.

“I can’t.”

You cried, hiding your face in your hands. You cried thinking of the field where you usually met, thinking about its beauty now fading into ugliness. You thought about the wildflowers, withered and dead as autumn had come. You thought about how you were convinced you knew what love was.

“What’s the point?” you asked then. “What’s the point of putting your life in danger? Life isn’t some sort of a game, Choi San. Worse, what if you have to hurt someone? Do you think you’ll be able to pull the trigger?”

He clenched his jaw, hard. “Do me a favour and stop asking questions.”

You closed your eyes, feeling sick to your stomach. Because it couldn’t be. Not San. Not your smiley San, who’d always weave dandelions crowns with you, as you’d pretend you were a queen and a king of that field you had found. An empty field, an abandoned farmland that was just yours and his to explore. That had been home to your first kiss, and all of those that had followed.

Now you wondered why he had always wanted to meet there in the first place. Was he trying to hide?

"If you love me, you’ll get out while you still can,” you said as your tears suddenly ended.

There was a weird sense of clarity in you, suddenly. You remembered the day you had fallen in love, the moment you had first kissed. You remembered the stars in the sky above, the meteors falling for the two of you. You remembered the music on the radio you had brought. Some Arctic Monkeys song about heartbreak, about moving on and failing to do so. As a joke, when it had ended, you had asked San, “Do you think love is a laserquest?”

His answer had been cryptic, mysterious, things that had made you believe he was the one. “Maybe. Maybe it is, and I’ve shot you in the back while you weren’t looking. Maybe I’m that annoying player that won’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll never find you annoying,” you had replied.

But today, watching the rain rolling down his face like tears, you realized that maybe, maybe you should have seen the warning behind his words. Because this betrayal, it came like he had shot you in the back – you didn’t think you’d be able to recover from it.

The past dwindled away as San spoke again, reminding you of the question you had just asked him. “It’s not a question of love, Y/n. I do love you. But it’s a question of survival.”

You laughed, coldly, and then you said, “You know what? You’re full of shit.”

“Alright then. Do me a favour and tell me to go away.”

“Go away.”

A long silence had lingered between you, voided of that summer warmth that had you falling in love. Like a piece was missing from the contract of you loving him, and him loving you. And you realized, maybe you had never really loved each other anyway.

He nodded once when you didn’t say anything else, before turning away. And you watched him walk away. You watched him thinking he was going to turn around and tell you this was just some twisted joke, the prank of the century. Only, he never turned around, and he disappeared behind the bend in the road, never to be seen again, cracking your heart open and splitting it in half.

*****

                The sun sets, like an ending to a dream. You’ve always liked the end – you think if you could choose, you’d want to witness the end of the world. The nostalgia, the beauty of endings… it’s something you understand now that you didn’t understand when you were younger. Because you and San ending, it had led to you focusing on high school. It had allowed you to get in the good college in town, with a scholarship that covered most of your expenses before you made it to med school.

There’s beauty in knowing losing San has allowed you to live out your dreams.

There’s less beauty in knowing that San has been sleeping for almost thirty-four hours now. Last time you checked, he was still breathing, but you’re starting to be afraid that he just won’t wake up. It’s irrational, you know – after the blood loss it makes sense that he’d sleep for a long time.

But it leaves you with far too much time on your hands to think and revisit the past. You’ve been doing it all day – thinking about the fight with your parents that had led to your break-up with San, thinking about that damn rainy evening he had walked away without once looking back. Thinking of the field, of sunshine and star falls and the sweetness of a first kiss. Thinking that, then, you thought you knew what it was like to be in love.

You haven’t dated anyone serious since San. Hyunmin was a distraction for a while, but you never were into it. Not like you were into San. There’s a guy in your class though, that you’ve been chatting with for a couple of weeks. He’s sweet, innocent, and the perspective of a future seems less scary with him around. He’s mentioned he wants to move across the country once too, and since then you’ve started talking more, the similarity of your wishes drawing you closer.

All day today you’ve been feeling like you’re slowly drifting away though. Slowly getting entrapped in a web you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk away from.

You decide to swim, seeking the fresh clarity only cold water can bring to you. You don’t have a swimsuit with you, but since San is half-dead in bed you figure it doesn’t matter. So you strip naked, feet making squelching sounds in the mud by the lake side as you step in the water.

The sharp cold has you holding your breath, but you don’t slow down. You’ve never slowed down in life – when you make a decision, you bring it to completion. And you’ve decided to swim, so swim you will.

The warm summer evening breeze catches in your hair as you take another step forward, the water now lapping at your thighs. You dread the moment it’ll hit your core, knowing that that’s the worst part, but you breathe in deeply, moving forward. Because there’s no moving backwards now.

When the water hits, your eyes flutter shut, and you hold in the wince that threatens to escape the mask of calm your features hold. Soon enough, you get deep enough to swim, and the movements bring welcomed warmth to your limbs as you flop on your back, tits out of the water.

Your uncle’s cabin is the only cabin in a fifteen miles radius. You know you won’t be interrupted, and so you let the water cool you down. Calm you down, hold you in its fresh embrace. It undoes knots in your back that have formed from worrying about San, but also from worrying about college.

From worrying that you will never be enough. You think it’s a normal anxiety to have, something most people must feel as they go through the trials of college, not knowing what to expect on the other side. A nice career, perhaps, though the perspective of failure is there too, looming over the horizon.

You sigh, and your eyes flutter open as your legs move mindlessly under you, making sure to keep you afloat. You look up at the azury ceiling over your head, so far away as it slowly turns gold. Out of touch, out of grasp. You watch the fluffy white clouds that are lazily crossing the sky, turning fiery in the sunset, as if they have all the time in the universe. And you wish you were them, up above. With nothing to worry about.

Without a Choi San on the brink of death lying about twenty meters away from you. You sigh, and you turn in the water, with the purpose of swimming again. Though your gaze catches movement by the cabin, and your head snaps towards it to see none other than the supposedly Choi San, standing on the deck with a hand clutching his side.

You shriek, looking down at yourself. Most of you is hidden, but you don’t know how long he’s been there. Don’t know if he’s seen you naked as you looked up at the sky.

He doesn’t move, only watches you where you’re swimming.

“Can you please look away?” you say from the water, and he has the nerves to lean against the railing, eyes still boring into where you’re swimming. You think his gaze might be so hot the water will boil, and it startles you into action.

You start walking out of the water, pointing towards the door. “You shouldn’t be up, Choi San.”

“I feel fine,” he says as you take another step forward, and the water barely hides your tits anymore.

That makes him turn around, as he offers you a little bit of privacy. You’re quick to get out of the water and wrap yourself in the towel you brought outside, and then you collect your clothes to head back to the cabin. San dutifully keeps his gaze away until you’re climbing the three steps leading to the deck, and it’s then that his eyes trail to you again.

“Thank you for the water,” he says, offering you a tentative smile.

You left water by his bedside earlier today hoping it will coax him to wake up. You’re strangely surprised that it worked.

“You should go sit inside,” you scold him, only half-heartedly. Because seeing him up and about reassures you, somehow.

He cocks an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “The weather is beautiful, I’d rather sit outside.”

You roll your eyes, but you do let him walk down the stairs to sit by the fireplace while you go inside to take a quick shower and get dressed. You decide to make some food for him, though you know he shouldn’t eat too much right now, after not having eaten for a while. He has to start slowly, and you don’t even know if he’s hungry anyway.

You settle for preparing a cup of chicken noodle soup for him, so at least it isn’t too heavy on his stomach. You bring it to him outside, as he’s just calmly observing the lake.

“Thank you,” he says, voice small as he grabs the cup and the spoon.

You sit next to him, trying not to watch him eat too much. His hair is sticking to his forehead in some places, and you have the distinct thought that he’ll probably need to shower. At least there’s plenty of rain water in the bucket for the water pump.

“What have you been doing while I was out?” he asks.

You spare him a quick glance before losing your gaze in the rocks of the fireplace. “I’ve studied. Checked up on you. Not much honestly.”

He chuckles. “I’d argue that caring for someone is a lot.”

You glance at him, cheeks burning at the sight of his teasing smile. “Not really.”

He chuckles again, but doesn’t say anything more before eating another spoonful of soup. He’s almost done with the cup when he actually does speak, asking, “How long was I out?”

“A day and a half,” you answer. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t slept longer.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m made of tough stuff.”

You snicker, but you don’t say anything, just focusing on where you’re kicking at the dirt. When he’s done with the cup, he puts it down on the ground next to him, before sitting back in the chair. He stretches out his legs in front of him, sighing deeply.

“I still feel out of it,” he admits, and you meet his gaze.

“You can sleep more,” you tell him. “I’d just like to check on the…”

You don’t even have to finish your sentence. He immediately turns so his side is to you, and you have to admit you’ve done a perfectly good job with the stitches.

“So?” he asks.

“All good.” You pat his shoulder. “You can sit comfortably again.”

He’s smiling when he does so, and his gaze wanders to the lake once again. “I’m sorry I…” he trails off, and he chuckles softly. “I’m sorry I interrupted your little swim earlier.”

You have the decency to flush furiously red, and you shrug your shoulders. “No worries, I wasn’t expecting you to be up so soon.”

You fall in a comfortable silence, surprisingly so. Rare stars dot the darkening sky up above, and all that can be heard for a moment is the flap of a bird’s wing as it moves from branches to branches in the trees by the water. The breeze picks up as you watch the little bird, and the leaves dance, loudly so. You’d think it’d be deafening in the silence between you and him, but it’s strangely reassuring.

As if, after all, you found your way back to the field. Only this time it’s completely different, as if decades have passed between you. At least, that’s how it feels like.

You notice San has dozed off in the chair next to you when you were about to speak to him again. To ask him how he’s truly been, in the years between then and now. Hoping to avoid mentioning what led to him coming to you, yesterday, a whole eternity ago.

You watch him, heart aching in your chest. Aching to reach out and brush his hair away from his forehead, aching to heal the cut on his cheek with a gentle swipe of your fingers. If only medicine was so simple…

It seems the peace of the early evening wasn’t going to stay around, because you notice dark clouds rolling in the distance, streaks of lightning cutting through them. Slowly inching closer, menacingly so, and you gently wake San up with your hand on his wrist.

He startles awake, hand shooting to his waist, finding nothing there. It startles you, and you both stare at each other for a moment until you realize what he was looking for.

His gun.

“San…” you let out and he runs his hand through his hair, eyes falling shut as he breathes in and out raggedly.

“Sorry.”

“San, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, refuses to let you see the vulnerability you glimpsed behind his piercing gaze. Refuses to acknowledge that he’s terrified, deadly so.

“Let’s go in,” you tell him, softly. Because you’re afraid you’ll spook him, when he’s clearly been living in fear long enough. “There’s a storm coming.”

He nods, carefully getting up without sparing you a glance. He heads inside, hand clutching his side again, while you pick up the chicken noodle soup cup before following him.

You’ve refilled the generator before swimming, so you know it’s been charging the batteries for a while now. You don’t fear ending up in the dark with San, and there’s also always the option of using the lamps and candles your uncle always leave here in case of an emergency.

The storm doesn’t roll in until a little later. You’ve forced San to put a shirt on – mostly so your eyes would stop betraying you, dropping to his toned body whenever he talked to you. You’re currently sitting on the couch, and as the rain starts, hammering against the window behind you, you pull your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms comfortably around them.

“How hard do the storms hit here?” he asks, eyes trailed to the world outside.

You follow his gaze, right as wind picks up to make the water hit the window even harder, creating a cacophony that forces you to speak louder for him to hear. “Pretty hard.”

He nods, and he glances once at you. “Fun.”

You smile, because you’ve always liked storms. Have always found them electrifying, energizing.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the field when it rained?” San asks, taking you by surprise.

Making your heart clench so hard in your chest you have to take a wobbly breath in. If he notices he doesn’t say.

“We were always in that field,” you remind him. “No matter the weather.”

It’s his turn to smile fondly. “It got so pretty with all the wildflowers. But you were afraid of the bees.”

“Bees are scary!” You laugh, and he echoes it with a soft chuckle. “You’re the one that almost pissed yourself when we saw the rat.”

That makes him laugh, and he winces in pain clutching his side. “Gosh, is it supposed to keep on hurting like this?”

It douses your enthusiasm and your smile falls. “Well, it was a solid cut.”

His eyes get lost in the void as he takes on a wistful expression. “I’m surprised I didn’t die.”

You gulp, watching his profile carefully. “It wasn’t deep enough for that…” you trail off, even though you spent most of yesterday and today being convinced he’d die. “At least they didn’t… stab you.”

“They would have if… Wooyoung didn’t shoot.”

You remain silent, not knowing what to reply to that. San interprets that as discomfort, and he quickly adds, “He didn’t shoot them. Just… in the air. It attracted the police.”

You remember the cars zooming past the diner a lifetime ago, and you nod your head. “I heard.”

He seems surprised, and his gaze finally finds yours again. “You did?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, a little awkwardly. “I hear a lot of shootings, in the diner.”

His eyes widen, mouth falling open cutely. “You do?”

You don’t know what he expected. The diner is right between Ateez and Bangtan territory, and as much as it is a safe space, it is also near enough to dangerous grounds, and you’ve heard plenty of shooting in your time working there.

“Always,” you admit. “It can get scary sometimes… but you also get used to it.”

He looks sad. Infinitely so, like a lost puppy. That’s when the first thunder hits, so sharp and sudden you startle. Not quite as much as San, who ducks, wincing in pain as he clutches his side.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, in time with another thunderclap, though this time it’s more of a rumble.

You watch his chest as he breathes in and out quickly. “Just… fuck.”

Now, concern grows in you, and you gently put a hand on his shoulder. “San…”

He meets your gaze, and there’s so much white in his it makes you think of a terrified prey. And then it clicks: he thought it was a gunshot.

“Hey,” you quickly say, moving closer to him. You’re on the side of the stitches, so you still keep a safe distance between the two of you, but you grab his hand nonetheless. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say.

“I promise, no one’s going to find you here.”

He remains silent this time around, eyes still boring into yours. You take that as a cue to continue, because you don’t want him to panic. You want his thoughts here, with you, and not miles away in a city he should have escaped from years ago. You wish he had, knowing the atrocities that he would have avoided.

Would he have escaped with you, had you stayed just a little longer?

“I killed someone,” he says, and you balk at the silver lining his gaze. “I fucking killed him.”

You don’t know how to help. All you can think to do is cup his cheek, right as he starts breathing even faster. “Breathe with me, San.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes fall to your mouth. You make a good show of inhaling slowly, before exhaling even slower. It takes him a moment but he eventually follows your lead.

It breaks when there’s another sharp thunderclap, and he flinches, eyes shutting instinctively.

“Hey hey hey,” you say again, even more gentle, softer than before. You move even closer, and when a tear slips out of his closed eyes, you pull him into a hug, careful not to brush his side.

His head falls on your shoulder, and one of his arms wrap around your waist. A thunderclap later, he starts sobbing, fist balling the fabric of your shirt in his tight hold, and you let him do it. You let him hold onto you, hoping it’ll keep him here with you. Hoping it’ll keep him afloat during the storm that’s raging both outside and in his mind.

“It’s going to be okay,” you breathe, and you feel like you’re lying to him.

Because how can he ever be safe from the ghosts inside of his skull? The ghosts wandering the halls of him, tainting his soul with their presence?

“He’s never going to smile again,” San chokes out. “Everyone loved him. Even in Ateez… Jungkook was the best of us. The only one who had a shot at getting out of it.”

You don’t know how good he could have been, if he was a member of Bangtan. In your mind, you’d always seen Bangtan as the bad guys, mostly because they weren’t with San. Even when you had been struggling to evade that life, you’d still rooted for him.

It’s strange how you just realize that now, as you’re holding him while he breaks.

“You didn’t mean to kill him,” you remind San, still speaking with the calmest voice you can muster up. “You didn’t want to, San. You’re not a murderer.”

“I’m still a killer,” he says. He sounds angry, and you reckon he might be angry at himself. Might be consumed with his actions, dragged to hell before his time as his mind gets stuck replaying the events.

“Maybe,” you answer. “But,” you quickly add when he stiffens in your arms. “But you can spend the rest of your life making up for it. Repenting.”

He doesn’t respond right away, as he breaks some more, sobs rocking through him. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when you were younger and in love. It makes your gaze wet, yet you hold on strong for him. You keep your head held high, and you allow him to break in the safe haven that your arms represent.

Because to him, you’ve never been tainted. You’ve always been the ideal he was trying to pursue, albeit the wrong way.

“I don’t know how to repent,” he admits when he calms down. He turns his head, and his nose brushes along the skin of your neck, slightly tickling you. You ignore the feeling, especially as he adds, “Ateez… it’s all I’ve ever known.”

You run a hand on his back, soothingly. “It isn’t.”

Because there was you, too. There was the summer field and the twinkling stars and Artic Monkeys on the radio. There was the two of you, petal-soft kisses exchanged in the dead of night and in the brightness of day. There were rainy days, and then there was rain. There was him walking away, and you hate yourself then.

You wish you had stopped him that day, had kept him from going on to become what he’s become now. A person he clearly hates, someone that has a bounty on his head. Someone that doesn’t even believe they’re allowed redemption and you reckon you don’t even know if he is.

You only know that seeing him break is bending your will, the way the wind outside is bending the trees. All you can hope is that, like the tall trees, you won’t break.

*****

                The storm calmed down sometime around midnight. San ended up falling asleep on the couch, as you’d reassuringly ran your hand through his hair, trying to keep him with you. Though you think he’s been slipping through your fingers, into his demons.

You’ll find a way to bring him back. You have to. Turns out it comes faster than you think, as the electricity runs out and you busy yourself with lighting some candles throughout the main room. When you’re done, you put a blanket over him, and you almost let out a startled scream as his eyes shot open.

“Hello,” you say, resting a hand on your heart to tame the wild beats.

You’re about to move away, but he grabs your hand, forcing you to sit next to him. You don’t really resist, though you think you probably should. You’re weak – weaker still when he murmurs your name.

“San,” you whisper in return, and you’re aware your voice carries too much longing. Longing for a past when life’s atrocities hadn’t changed either of you yet.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and a tear rolls on his cheek.

You dry it, fingers lingering there. “It’s okay.”

“Angel…”

The nickname brings you back to laser quests and favours and warmth creeping up your stomach for the first time in your life.

“I’m no angel,” you breathe.

“You saved me.”

You hold his gaze. There’s something hiding behind his pupils. The need, to forget. You don’t think you have the ability to run his mind through amnesia, but still you brush his cheek again.

“You deserved saving.”

His eyes glaze once more, though this time no tears fall. “It’s hard to believe it.”

“Do you still believe love is a laser quest?” you ask him, out of the blue.

As if you’re a line straight of that Arctic Monkeys song you listened to the first time you kissed.

“Maybe,” he says, a parallel to that first time you had asked the question. “Maybe it is.”

You can’t resist. You lean down, and you press the gentlest kiss on his lips. His are dry, but the way he sighs with you against him is soft, for your heart and for your mind, and you kiss him again. He lets you lead, follows the dance of your lips, lets you run your hand through his sweaty hair.

Even if you shouldn’t. Even if you know everything you’re doing right now is a mistake, you still find yourself deepening the kiss, opening your lips to slip your tongue out, teasing his mouth. One of his hands finds your thigh, and he squeezes ever so slightly as his tongue finds yours, and you let out a breathy sound.

When you pull away, eyes fluttering open, you find San’s gaze. You think about the boy he was then, the girl you were then. You think about who you were, together. And when he says, “Please make me forget”, you lean again, capturing his mouth in a languid kiss.

For a reason unknown, the summer sky and falling stars pale in comparison to this kiss. Maybe because it holds longing, nostalgia. Hope that life would have turned out differently. For a moment, you picture what it would have been like, without Ateez. With you and him in the field, in your family house, in a car driving by the beach, windows down as the sun sets and you sing along to the radio, wind blowing in your hair.

You see a whole life there, with you and him marrying in the field, under the sun that had been the host of your first love. You imagine growing up by his side, attending college with him in the big city. You imagine how he would have become the owner of his own construction company, like his dad before him. You picture kids laughing, running around the house he would have built for you. You see Christmas light, late nights antics by the firelight.

You see it all, and you know you’ll never have any of it. But if you can have tonight, then you’ll grab it before it slips through your fingers. Before he walks away in the rain again, only to be a memory you cherish in the deepest corners of your heart.

“How?” you ask him when you pull away.

Mostly, you’re asking how to make him forget. But you’re also asking how it is that the feelings are still there, even stronger now, as if they’ve grown up with you, yet haven’t changed like you have. Like they are a constant of an ever-changing universe.

“Kiss me again,” he asks, begs, and you give in. You kiss him wildly, always making sure not to touch his side and the stitches.

You know sex would be a stupid idea, especially with the fresh stitches. But also because he’s barely had time to recover. But he doesn’t really give you a choice, pulling you on top of him until you’re straddling him.

You sit back on him for a second, eyes trailing to the spot where you know the stitches are. “This isn’t a good idea,” you whisper through the ragged breaths caused by the ministrations of his mouth on yours and of yours on his.

“I’m fine,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t believe him. But when he pulls you down again, large hand holding the nape of your neck firmly so you don’t escape, you want to believe him.

Want to believe the beauty of his lies, like you had when you were younger.

From where you’re perched, you can feel the start of his erection pressing against you, and you moan softly in the kiss, rolling your hips. His mouth falls open, and you capture his tongue, sucking on it once before you pull away, leaving hot kisses on his jaw.

“Sit on my face,” he says, and he sounds out of his mind. Crazed, a little like you too feel at the moment.

“What?”

“Can’t get hurt if you sit on my face, angel,” he explains, and then hisses when you suck a hickey on his neck.

You let him pull your shirt off, unclasping your bra yourself as you sit back on his lap. He cups your breasts, rolling your erect nipples between his thumbs and indexes. You moan again, grinding your hips into his, and he hisses once more.

“You want to taste me?” you ask, head throwing back as he pinches your nipples hard.

“I’d fuck you, but you’re the doctor. Can’t risk fucking up my stitches, huh?” he replies, voice low and husky.

Your core heats up, pussy clenching around nothing. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, though you spy desperation beneath it. Like he thinks he doesn’t have forever, when it comes to you.

He’s right. Because tomorrow, you’ll have to go back into town, into the hellscape you call home. What will be left of the two of you then?

So when he tugs at your pants, you give in and get up, taking off your pants and panties in one swift motion. You step out of them, blood heating up by the way he’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, gaze burning on you.

You have half a thought that you could probably ride him instead of his face, but when you see his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, making them glisten in the candlelight, you need to know what it’ll feel like against you.

So you straddle his face as he guides you down, large hands pushing on your thighs until your pussy is a hairsbreadth away from his lips. He blows on it, and your eyes shut with sensitivity. You clutch the cushion of the couch, hoping it’ll help steady you, but the moment his tongue flicks at your clit, you realize nothing will be able to steady you. Yet you still hold onto it, especially as he dives his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juice. He moans in contentment, before moving to your clit again. And his tongue is wicked down there, like it knows exactly what you like.

You grab a handful of his hair, grinding into his face. You’re pretty sure he’s chuckling down there, and then he unleashes himself. Sucking hard, alternating circling motions to teasing you with his teeth. You’d expect the latter to hurt, but the way he does it just makes you see stars, and your pussy clenches around nothing again.

San is deadly good with his mouth. Both with crafting lies and pulling moans out of you, and your thighs tighten against his face as he sucks particularly hard, before dipping his tongue inside of you. His nose brushes your clit, and then he forces you to properly sit on him.

The way his tongue moves inside of you, lapping up your juices while opening you up, has you on the brink of an orgasm in no time. Especially as he makes you grind again, holding you tight into place. When one of his hands moves from around your thigh to reach your clit, you cry out, head throwing back.

He’s quick to rub at your sensitive clit, and you grab one of your breasts, massaging it mindlessly before you pinch your nipple, hard, right in time with a skilled swipe of his tongue. Your orgasm meets you there, shaking through you as it explodes in a blinding flash of light. You moan, loudly, something that resembles his name, and he keeps you going, guides you through your high until you cringe with oversensitivity.

Only then does he let you climb off from his face. You stand on wobbly legs, before deciding to sit next to him, and you catch sight of the smirk on his lips. It makes you blush, right as you realize what you’ve just done.

When you realize what kind of sinful activity he’s dragged you in, this time around.

“Gosh,” is all you manage to say.

He chuckles, clearly proud with himself. “That felt good?”

You worry at your bottom lip, eyes going down to the tent in his pants. You want to pleasure him too, to take him in your mouth and make him feel good, but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t.”

You still and you meet his gaze with slightly-widened eyes. “Why not?”

His features turn somber, haunted, and the heat of the moment passes so quickly you think it might have been a figment of your imagination.

Were you really riding his face just a moment ago?

“Please just lay next to me,” he says, barely even a whisper.

You don’t know a lot of men that would choose cuddling over getting a blowjob, but if that is what he wants, then you’ll give it to him. You lay next to him, glad that the injured side is closer to the couch. That way, you can cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder while he wraps an arm around you.

“Angel,” he murmurs after a time. “You’re a fucking angel. I think you’re my salvation.”

You highly doubt you hold this kind of power, but you don’t want to tell him. Have never been good at weaving beautiful lies for him to believe.

“We should stay here,” he continues. “Forever.”

And you wish you could. Wish reality didn’t exist, didn’t call for you to go back to your regular life like you’ve never been here with him. But you know tomorrow exists, and you’ll have to leave.

“We should have stayed in the field,” you choose to answer. “Under the shooting stars.”

“I wished for a lifetime with you, then,” he admits. “I wished I’d never have to let you go.”

You’d wished for a similar thing, but life is far too cruel to allow a world of first loves.

“Why did you…” you trail off. The question has haunted your sleepless nights for a long time after the break-up. Even years later, you’d still think about it sometimes, wondering if nostalgia would choke you up. “Why did you decide to join the gang?”

He tenses next to you. But you start tracing a mindless circle on his chest, through the shirt, and it distracts him enough for him to reply. “I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you?”

His voice holds the weight of the world when he says, “I did. And I made the wrong one.”

You want to cry, but you’re older now. You’re not the teenager who thought she was going to die from losing him anymore. You know what living without Choi San is like, and as much as it hurts, you know that it’s doable.

“You made the one you believed was right,” you say carefully. “But I do wish you had made a different one.”

He holds you a little tighter, as if that will make it so tomorrow never comes. “Me too.”

There’s an eternity of flickering candlelight on the ceiling, of the circles you trace on his chest and of your breathings forming a melody. Outside, the wind has died down, and the world is silent except from an occasional cricket braving the world after the storm.

“Where will you go, once you graduate?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

Because he knows. It’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

“As far away from here as I can.”

“I hope you find peace, wherever you go,” he whispers. “I hope you forget all about how we grew up in a hellhole.”

Do you feel bad for saying it? Maybe. But you can’t help saying it anyway. “I will, San.”

And like that rainy day years ago, you think you can see him walk away.

*****

Seven years later

The winter sun is strangely bright, up above. You’d think it will warm you up, but the cold is relentless, violent, and it sneaks into your coat as you walk out of the hospital. You’ve just finished a thirty-hour shift, and you can’t wait to be home.

To take a shower and forget that you’ve lost a patient today.

But you’ve saved another. A young man, with a stab wound in his ribs that should have killed him. But you saved him, stabilized his condition to the point you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Which is the only reason why you’re allowing yourself to leave now.

You’re never able to leave until you know your patients are okay. It’s been that way since your first patient, in a cabin in the woods you’ve done your best to forget.

You’d let San stay, after that weekend. He had given you the number of one of his friends, so you could get some clothes for him, and you’d gone back the next weekend. Bringing him the clothes, making love to him under the moonlight as if that would change the ending.

The following week, you had gone back to find the cabin empty. He’d left a note behind.

I hope I can find you again, wherever you go.

You kept the note. It’s in your bedside table, back at home, in the nice apartment you’ve been able to rent for yourself with all the money you’ve been making now. Enough to pay back student loans from med school, enough to reassure you that never again will you struggle.

You’ve never seen San again after. He hasn’t found you, and you haven’t searched for him. Have only looked up his name a couple of times, in the months following his disappearing, scared you’d find out that he was found dead in a ditch. But his name never came up, and you wondered if he had managed to escape, if he had managed to find a place where Bangtan couldn’t reach him.

You found peace, on your side of the country. Life is kinder here, though it still holds the same atrocities. You wonder if it’s the novelty of the city, or maybe if you’ve just grown old enough to be able to withstand the bad that the world throws your way. It’s hard to tell – you haven’t kept contact with anyone from back home, except Jae-on.

Jae-on, who’s moved with you when you’ve decided to come here, like he said he would. Jae-on, who asked you to marry him in late October, and you said yes. The ring sits heavy on your finger, and you mindlessly play with it.

In another world, you would already be married to Choi San. Sometimes, you catch glimpses of that world – a piercing gaze in the morning, a smile and a kiss to your temple. Talks about angels, children screaming in happiness. In another world, you’d be pregnant again, waiting patiently to add another piece of you and him to this world.

It’s fun to think about, sometimes, but you’ve been good at forgetting. Like you told him you would – most times, you’ve forgotten all about Choi San.

But today, you had a patient that reminded you of him. So you allow yourself to feel, you allow yourself to think about that note tucked in the bottom drawer of your bedside table, hidden under the thick socks you never use.

You allow yourself to think about the cabin in the woods, about the field where you would have gotten married had you been in that picturesque world you like to imagine. You think about laser quests and first kiss and rainy days and meteors. You think about summer, about wildflowers and him.

You’re so lost in thought you miss your stop home, and you begrudgingly get out at the next one. You’re tired, and your hands are shaking as you pull your phone out of your tote bag, wanting to text Jae-on that you’re going to be home late because you missed your stop. You walk to the other side of the tracks, sighing when you see a five-minutes wait for the next subway.

At least the sun is high in the sky, even though it is dreadfully cold. You shiver, putting your phone back in your tote bag so you can hide your hands in your sleeves again, hoping it’ll preserve them from the cold.

In your exhaustion, you forgot your gloves back at the hospital, you realize. It’s strange that you only realize now, and you reckon you really need to sleep, because your brain isn’t even working right anymore.

You sigh, glancing at the display showing the time. Still four minutes to wait. You think at this rhythm you might freeze in your spot before the next subway comes. You try to hide your face in the lapel of your coat, but a movement on the other platform attracts your gaze.

A man is helping an older woman climb down the stairs. She’s speaking loudly, which might be what attracted your gaze in the first place. You follow them as they walk down the stairs, and then when the man turns towards you, you meet his piercing gaze.

He smiles, and you realize that maybe, all those years ago, he was not spinning lies to you after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

Gosh yeahhh rereading it had me ralize that it is a lot sadder than I remembered it to be. At least we got an open ending ... :') What did we think? Should I write about other groups more often? Let me know what you think! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate

Taglist:

@btsborahaee

[a-998h]

Hi! Accidentally doxxed myself upon the second request (I forget to turn on anon). Do you mind if I go anonymous again?

Requesting platonic reader as the reincarnation of the Anemo Souvereign, yet not knowing about their true identity this time! A playful, witty soul yet reserved and understanding with Venti, Neuvillette and perhaps Zhongli?

Hope you take care of yourself. I'm grateful for the work, but your health matters, too!

🌙 anon

I don't mind, who you choose to request is not my business, and that you for worrying about me 🌙 anon. Don't forget to take care of yourself because you worry about me💙

You two met before Lantern Rite

You were a child that had befriended the Melusine

They would take about you, so Neuvillette got curious

He goes with the Melusine to meet you

When he sees you he notices a few things

1. You have ears like his

2. You were using Anemo powers

3. You had no vision or gnosis

He knows only the arachons, Traveler, and dragons like him can use the elements without visions

When he approached, you became the most respectful kid ever

He asked if you knew the Traveler

Reader: "Yeah, he helped Liyue, Mondstadt, Sumeru, and us,"

He sighs, and asks if you knew the Traveler personally, you said no

He knew you weren't a god because you felt so human

When the pieces were put together, I swear he turned pale

You were a street kid so you had no idea where you came from

Neuvillette is just staring as he realized that you're the reincarnation of the Anemo dragon, a member of his family

Keeping face, he talks with you and buys you food

He decodes to adopt you, because I say so

Furina adores you and so does Neuvillette

Your playfulness makes an appearance when you and Furina are together

Loves the jokes and puns you make in an effort to make him happy

Keeps that fact that you're the reincarnation of a dragon sovereign a secret

Treats you like his child, the same way he is with Furina

Teaches you how to keep this power in check, so nothing happens to you or anyone else

Takes you with him and Furina to Lantern Rite, where you wander off causing panic in him

You were at Lantern Rite with Neuvillette and Furina

You wandered off and Furina found you

Zhongli was with Hu Tao who ran up to Furina

They talked business while you stood with Zhongli

He introduced himself to you and it was clear you were shy

As the four of you walked, Zhongli was telling you about Liyue

He realizes you're a dragon when Furina accidentally lets it slip

Zhongli freezes a bit but recovers

Furina says it's a joke but he knows its not

Treats you like a grandchild

You're his dragon child

Will fight Neuvillette for custody like the divorced couple they are

You now spend certain times of year in Liyue

Teaches you how to be a dragon, and tries to get you to shape shift into a dragon form

Teaches you dragon things

Finds your wit and playfulness refreshing

Has you hang out with Hu Tao for the fun or both of you

Has to send letters to Neuvillette proving your safe

Takes you to the mountains to use your powers so no one gets hurt

Learns about it from Zhongli

When he meets you, he brings you to Dvalin

Hopes you and Dvalin bound as dragons

Makes a lot of jokes about you being a dragon

Loves your Anemo powers

Helps you control your powers

Plays around with you

You two have battles of wit regularly

Never tells anyone about your dragon side

Is like your fun uncle

Shows you his own powers

Asks if you can turn into a dragon

If not, takes you on Dvalin rides so you can experience flying

Shows you wind gliding as well

Ingeneral, all three love you and your dragon self. The try to help you master your powers and keep you dragon identity a secret from you for your own good.

[gghostwriter]

I've been thinking so very hard about Spencer with a professional wrestler whose pretty strong and she meets the team like they go out or something? and somehow it leads to her drunkenly picking Garcia up just to prove she can. sorry this is all over the place...

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! wc: 1.3k A/N: Apologies it took a while, I was having ups and downs with my writing. I also don’t know much about wrestling so I tried my best in incorporating the request. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Lightweight. // Spencer Reid

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The beating organ nestled by your ribs threaten to flutter right out of its cage. Its drumming rhythm echoing loudly in your ears, a secret staccato only you could hear. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

A chant soon accompanied the rhythm. Litany of words that you’ve learned to whisper for no one to hear but Nike—the goddess of victory. It was your prayer before stepping on the padded mat and it’s invisible barrier of a circle that dictates who wins and loses. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The rough texture of your faded blue jeans against your clammy palms drag you down to the present. The mirage of a gymnasium filled with spectators and judges replaced with faded red brick walls and neon blinding lights that read ‘bar open’. Tonight was a different kind of battle. It didn’t require your muscles being worn down to its core, wrestling an opponent as eagerly thirsty for a qualifying spot for the Olympics team—the type of mental and physical combat you’ve prepped for all your early formative years. No, tonight was a match to impress your boyfriend’s found family—a team of highly respected profilers for the FBI. 

A warm calloused hand intertwined with yours, its hold familiar and soothing. “They’ll love you regardless,” Spencer murmured words of encouragement. The man you’ve fallen in love with always knew where your mind went like the back of his own hand. It was as if he had found an ancient decoder meant just to qualm your fears and ease your nerves. 

You nodded once, feeling grateful for the man he was. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

He leaned in for a whispered kiss. So light and quick as if they were the hummingbird’s wings. It was a welcome distraction, the kind that had you on your tip toes following its wake as he pulled away. 

“What was that?”

“A kiss for courage,” he smiled before pushing the glass door open, allowing a waft of stale beer and grease entice you inside. 

As the sun start to set outside, the place slowly started to come alive. The bartenders were stockpiling up crates of alcohol for the upcoming Friday night crowd and the early birds were busy choosing the optimal spot for their night of good company and bad decisions. The set of profilers sitting around a booth, tucked against the wall, were no different. 

A blur of blond hair and glitter side-way tackled you into a hug. 

“Oh you must be her,” she gushed in this high pitch voice, visibly bouncing from excitement. “I’m so happy to finally meet you! I really tried my best to not invade your privacy but—what am I saying, I’m Penelope Garcia! You can call me Pen, Penny, Garcia, your resident tech—” she leaned in for another squeezing hug. “—anything at all really and I can tell we’d be really great friends!” 

A chuckle escaped from the man standing beside your boyfriend. If you could take a guess, this must be Derek Morgan—the pseudo older brother. “Baby girl, breathe. You’d scare her away if you don’t.” 

“Derek Morgan, don’t make me hate you,” the bracelets on her arm jingled as she hit his muscular defined bicep. 

“Like you could ever,” he teased back before reaching over for a handshake. “Derek Morgan, it’s finally nice to meet the girl who’s got our pretty boy flustered.” 

You smiled, accepting his hand with a firm grip and introduced yourself. “It’s great to meet you too—” you turned to flash Penelope a smile. “—the both of you. I’ve heard a lot of things—”

“Only good things, right?” 

Spencer’s flushed, clearing his throat, as your giggle gave him away. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Kid, you have some explaining to do,” Derek teasingly threatened before clearing a path to the table occupied by four more people. “Come, meet the rest of the team.”

———

The neon bright lights of the bar were starting to streak in your vision. Its’ concrete floor feeling mush beneath your feet and the voices from your boyfriend’s founded family muffled as if you were straining to hear from underwater.

You giggled. Everything felt different—not bad different or good, just different.

It was official, you were walking the tight, tight rope between sobriety and tipsy territory.

“Sweetheart, I need you to drink this for me, okay?” Spencer’s worried voice broke through the alcohol haze with a glass of liquid in his hand.

You nodded once, a sweet smile stretching your lips. “Hmm—okay.”

“Kid, I didn’t expect your girlfriend to be lightweight,” the burly man—Derek Morgan, you belatedly remembered his name—observed.

“She doesn’t usually drink—” Spencer paused to watch you take small sips of water. “—a little more, sweetheart, I need you to drink a little bit more—drink this much at all.”

You gulped, fingers pushing the glass away from your pouting lips. “Off season, Spence. Coach—coach won’t know and besides I’m not drunk.” The slurring of words didn’t help make your lie any more believable. “I’m really not drunk.”

“I know, I know but I wish you’d pace the drinks more,” his lithe calloused fingers pushed the loose tendrils away from your face. “I don’t want you to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

You hummed in agreement, your chest warming from his need to take care of you. He had always been this way—it was one of the many things that made you fall for him. How he always placed you as top priority the best he could and how he showed up for every wrestling competition you had. The memory of him with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a big smile on his face as you won the qualifying match to enter the Olympics wrestling team was the moment when you knew he was the one.

A giggle escaped from your newly found best friend, Penelope. “Prove it.” 

“Prove what?” 

“That—” her pink nail finger pointed at you then at her, hiccuping as she did. “—you are not drunk.”

Spencer immediately tried to shut it down. “No, no. There’s no need to prove it, sweetheart. I believe you.” 

Your eyes narrowed, having caught a whiff of a challenge and by default, you were never one to back down. “How do I do that?”

“By carrying me, of course!” She clapped her hands with glee.

“Oh no, no. There’s really no need to prove it,” your boyfriend vehemently pleaded.

You pouted your lips. The arresting, pleading look that painted your face was Spencer’s kryptonite. It was the same look that had him on his knees, willing to give you anything you wanted. 

“You don’t think I could do it?”

“Of course not. I know you could do it, sweetheart—”

A grin broke from your face, taking his answer as affirmation. And before he could even finish his sentence, you had gotten up on your seat and sloppily crossed the table to Penelope.

“Up you get, princess.” 

She squealed, bouncing up from her seat, trembling from excitement.

You shot Spencer a look of challenge with its matching smirk before weaving your arms around her waist and the back of her knees and bracing your thighs and core for a princess-style lift. 

“Told you I could do it,” you proudly stated as Penelope landed back on the ground with giggles erupting from her mouth.

Morgan hooted with pride.

“Never doubted you for one second,” Spencer smiled.

Emily raised her bottle of beer as if to cheer for your win.

JJ quickly interjected. “Ooh, me next!” 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[hazz-a-bear]

SIX MISSED CALLS, wen junhui

♡⸝⸝ when jun's voice comes out in a mess of sharp words and harsh comments, you know there's something more to it than the underlying frustration

.ᐟ angst. hurt/comfort. mention of anxiety. mention of panic attacks. unsafe driving.

a/n - i'm so sorry i keep writing sad boy jun ( i can't help it he's so :(( ) please leave some feedback, I appreciate it so much! ALSO, SHOULD I WRITE A PART II FOR THIS?

masterlist | taglist

Six missed calls.

That's the number of times you picked up your phone, pressed on Junhui's contact and put the phone up to your ear - waiting, hoping you'll finally hear his voice answer from the other side. You haven't been lucky yet. All your calls go straight to the voice messages before the line goes silent with a beep.

You stare at your phone, Junhui's contact staring right back at you in silence. Something heavy settles in your stomach in the form of dread.

Jun has a habit - a very unwholesome habit of abandoning his phone, cutting off contact with almost everyone and going radio silent whenever his life gets a little too wild. Over the time he had done it, you recognized it to be a form of escape for Jun. It was his way of a silent cry when things got too tense in his head.

It had been long since you adjusted to the rapid pace of Junhui's life. It was rough at first, trying to decipher how he could still hold his head up when his days consisted of a tiring routine of practice, rehearsals, schedules and all kinds of busyness. And in the midst of it all, Jun has never been the one to seek out whenever his emotions took the best of him. He would rather turn his back on everyone, and hide himself in a shell till he was discovered. It hadn't been easy for you to adapt to his life and his habits completely without constantly worrying about Junhui and his well-being. And Junhui got it.

It wasn't hard for him to understand where you came from. You practically carved out his heart from his chest and carried it in your palm after all. He decoded how it was valid for you to be concerned whenever his emotions soared and got too lost in his head. So, he had always made sure to warn you beforehand.

The last two weeks have been busy for both of you. The comeback was nearing the group at a rapid pace, and their days were packed from dawn to dusk with all kinds of preparations ahead. Jun was stressed - all of them were. A mix of anticipation and excitement runs through their veins in adrenaline whenever there's a comeback around the corner, and this time, you know that it isn't any different.

You had been busy as well, stuck to the neck under a pile of workload on top of you.

But still, you managed to squeeze a visit to Jun's during a rare off in the afternoon four days ago. You showed up at his place with a bag of take-out, hoping to forget all about your work stress and spend some time together.

Jun welcomed you with a tight hug and multiple presses of his lips against yours, equally as delighted for the chance to take a break and just sit on his living room carpet with his head tucked into your neck. At first, you thought he hugged you a little tighter than usual and his eyes were darker than most days. But as time passed, he had looked relaxed, with no signs of any distress on his mind.

Jun hadn't said anything about the lack of contact you're being subjected to right now.

Being a foreigner to the life Junhui has been accustomed to since a very young age, you never felt like you were in the place to counsel him. Though Junhui has never made you feel like you were any less than he was, it felt wrong to try and take away his forms of escape, even though it wasn't a very healthy way of doing so.

And truthfully, if you thought about it, you've never really had to. He had never given you a reason to worry to that much of an extent about him. It never actually reached a point where you've had to wait through six missed calls and a heart beating rapidly against your chest in unease.

Until, of course, right now.

You can't help the heavy feeling that sits low in your gut at how you haven't heard from your boyfriend in almost four days. At first, you concluded he was just busy, too tired to check his phone after returning from being in practice all day. By the third day, you assumed he must be feeling down, drained out of all his emotional and physical energy. Just enough for him to ignore all six of the good morning and good night texts you've sent to him for the past three days.

But today, your heart was really beating in anxiety. All kinds of thoughts from 'Is he okay?' to 'I need to get to him' whirring around every corner of his mind.

Deciding to just say fuck it and go for it, you press on his contact for the seventh time that day, watching the phone flash with another call to Jun. It's almost the time you have to sign off from work, so you start packing up your bag as the phone sits on your desk, still ringing.

A pause - and the room is drowned in silence.

"yn"

You almost drop the papers that you hold in your hands when Junhui's voice echoes through the speaker. Quickly putting them down by your bag, you scramble towards the phone before clutching it close to your ear. You almost feel the way your blood warms up a little after having turned to icy water a little while ago.

"Jun? oh gosh, I was s-"

"You called me seven times, yn"

It's the tone of his voice that has you halting in your step. A blunt sentence, very much spoken with a hint of bite and irritation. And the first thought that comes to your head is - something's not right

There had been only a handful of instances when Jun and you got into arguments that directed to sharp words being thrown at each other. Junhui is a very delicate person who's equally as competent, preferring to sit down and talk any disputes out and sort them out instead of picking a fight.

You're someone who hated conflict, willing to settle everything down through a talk before maybe moving on to a heavier argument. Junhui, even more so than you, never uses such a snappy tone to talk to anyone no matter how upset he is. Especially, to you.

"Yeah, yeah I did" You start explaining yourself in a staggered voice. "You weren't replying to me, Jun. I was just-"

"Yn, god. I was busy, okay? Fuck, You know that" That's the moment your suspicions are undirectly confirmed to be true.

The feeling that - something's really wrong - settles deep in your heart.

If there was something two years of loving had engraved into your bones, it's the fact that Jun and you knew each other like the back of your hands. From the way you remembered Jun's order from the nearby Thai place to the way Jun knew the look you gave him whenever you were hungry - knowing each other inside and out was something you took pride in. Almost everyone close to the both of you saw how well you could read each other without even a word being said. Your friends publicly envied the two of you for the way you understood the other with just a flick of a finger or a blink of an eye.

So it isn't hard for you to immediately pick up on the unfamiliar lilt of his voice. His words thrash against each other like it does whenever he's frustrated, annoyance seeping out of every syllable he speaks. From the other side of the phone, you're already grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder as you listen to him continue to snarl at you.

"Jun" You try to intervene yet Jun successfully manages to speak right over you, voice still harsh as ever.

"What I'm saying is, you don't have to blow up my fucking phone, yn, god"

"Junnie" You almost plead into the phone, heading out of your workplace with your steps quickly. "I was just scared, okay? I tried to reach out but you wouldn't reply to me. I was so worried, Jun. I even called Minghao to-"

"Yn, what the fuck?" You're stunned into silence as you listen to the words Jun spat. "Why did you- wait, why did you call Minghao? God, yn, what the actual- shit, why are you so pressed at all? It's not like I fucking fell off the face of the earth"

Phone pressed to the ear, fingers gripping the straps of your bag, you stood. Your car was parked only a couple of meters away, almost in your peripheral vision. Yet, you were unable to take another step forward at all - too shocked to even move.

"Jun, don't-"

"I was just busy. You know how it is these days. Just because I don't answer once or twice doesn't mean I'm dead, yn You don't have to blow up my fucking phone. Do you kn-"

"Wen Junhui"

And immediately the boy on the other side is silent. The only thing you hear for a couple of seconds is the familiar sound of his breathing, heavy and ragged like it is whenever he's worked up.

"You're asking me why I'm so pressed, Junhui?" You take a deep breath as you start, eyes closing for a second to regain your composure. "You went silent on me for four days - four days, Jun. I was so fucking scared, do you know how hard it was to not drop everything all at once and come to you? I assumed you were busy or you needed space. So I gave you space."

"I know you, Jun. I know when you're spiralling and trying to distance yourself from everyone. I was so- Fuck, Jun. I love you. I love you so much, it hurts me when I know you're not okay. I want nothing more than to help you but you make it so hard for me to take care of you sometimes. So please, stop screaming at me for caring too much, Jun. I'm sorry- I'm sorry for bothering you but I refuse to stay silent and just watch you breaking by yourself"

You're slamming your car door when you finish. The line is silent in your phone, everything seemingly still around both of you. But it only takes three seconds for it to be broken by Jun, a harsh sob ripping out of his throat loud against your ear. In an instant, the engine of your car revives to life while your mind screams jun, jun, jun.

"yn"

"I'm coming to you, darling. Hold on a little for me, okay?" Jun stays on the phone as you almost soar along the roads, paying very little mind to traffic signals and probably breaking almost every driving rule. His voice comes from the phone in sobs, sounding so so broken it makes you want to jump out of the car yourself. As you glide down the road, you can just be thankful for the way you've trusted your gut and believed he wasn't doing okay as soon as he started talking earlier.

"Yn, come, please- please, yn. I ne- I need you. I feel so bad. I've been feeling bad and- just, come, please"

Your heart soared at his voice, pleading with just enough tears to have you speeding down the drive to his place.

"I'm on my way, sweetheart. I'm on my way. I love you so much, Jun. God, I love you"

Knowing Jun so well came with the practice of recognizing his moods. Aside from being a ball of sunshine most of the time, there have been more than enough times when he had delved into long periods of anxiety, spiralling and spiralling until he was nothing but a sobbing mess of emotions by the end of the night. You've experienced your fair share of Jun panicking, eyes welled up with tears and voice stammering as he screamed at you to leave him alone. Experiencing someone having a panic attack in front of you was alarming enough on its own. But whenever it took ahold of Jun- your sweet little lifeline- it broke you in so many than one.

After having held him through multiple, whispering love in his ears until he calmed down in your alms - you were quite accustomed to what you needed to do whenever he was panicking. So, as much as your heart was beating in dread, eyes welling up with your own tears and hands clammy against the steering wheel, you made it your mission to get to Jun as soon as possible.

The thought of Jun being by himself for the last few days made you want to scream - if only he had told you, you could've stayed close to him. You couldn't help but wince at the thought of Jun having no one to take care of him and you being unaware of how much he had needed some company, some help and some love.

Right now, as you step on the accelerator, there's only one thing on your mind. Junhui. You need to get to him and you need to get to him fast before he dives too deep headfirst into a pit of anxiety. Now that you know he was shutting himself out from the world, distancing himself from you for days and snapping at you since he was stuck in a state of haziness, you want nothing more than to scoop him into your arms as soon as possible.

Junhui is your love, your life, your everything. And you would rather slit your throat, bury yourself alive, walk through the fiery pits of hell and do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant the universe became kinder to him. Only the deepest edges of your heart know how you're willing to move any mountains and drain every ocean if it meant Junhui's pain would be taken away.

But for now, it's enough if you stick to six missed calls and thirty broken road rules.

thank you.

[agentstarkid]

SERENDIPITY ✦ DR3

“Serendipity is an unexpected and very lucky finding, that is, a coincidence that fills us with happiness. Serendipity in love implies the feeling that the universe conspires in our favor, bringing that special person into our lives at the right time and oh boy, did the universe send her everything she ever needed in the form of a 5'10" man with a built-in accent, a love for Tim Tams, adrenaline-fueled spirit and a smile that could light up a whole town.”

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ PIT BOARD: social media au | ✦ FACE CLAIM: becky g

✦ TRACK LIMITS: female!reader, covid-19 & quarantine mentions, age gap, language.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY BESTIES! 🤗💗 I've been working on this for a month, honestly I thought I was gonna finish it fast but tbh that was really naïve of me 🥴 the amount of times I ended up changing almost every little thing is insane lol but today I sat down and commited to finish and post this! this is my first ever smau or any kind of 'x reader' really, so please be kind 🤍 and of course it was going to be about the love of my life! — oh btw, my idea is to get to present time and make it angsty so let me know what you guys think! I really hope you enjoy!

series masterlist | general masterlist | next chapter >

JANUARY 01, 2020

yourinstagram and danielricciardo added to their stories!

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danielricciardo has followed yourinstagram!

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yourinstagram

♡ liked by anitta, danielricciardo and 6,546,214 others

yourinstagram 2019 was full of happiness, pain, healing and growth. I loved a lot, I cried a lot and I laughed a lot. I'm grateful for a lot of things in life, but I'm specially grateful for you guys ❤️🥂 I LOVE YOU! ❤️

tagged: selenagomez, fioamato, iamdannaschwarz, itsvittoriasousa

View all 17,321 comments

fioamato It's out with the old and in with the new ⏭️😜

iamdannaschwarz this could be the start of something new indeed 😏🤭 yourinstagram 🙈 user yourinstagram girlieee does this mean you found your Troy Bolton tonight? 👀👀👀

iamdannaschwarz what a year it has been! Through the ups and downs you prevailed. So proud of you! Cheers, amiga! 🥂❤️

itsvittoriasousa u deserve the whole world, i wish everyone knew ur heart 🥺 love you biiiiiiig ❤️

user1 can we talk about that dress!!!! jaw dropped 🤯

user2 Mami 🔥🔥🔥

selenagomez ❤️🥂🎆

user3 danny ric you ain't slick baby we can see u 👀

user4 words on the streets that they were seen pretty close the whole night 👀

user5 girlies do we think the writing on the napkin belongs to mr. ricciardo? 🧐

user4 what about the last pic?? could it be about a nod to him???

user3 somebody call the fbi and the cia we need to decode this 🔎🔎🔎

sebastianyatra una locura de año 🚀 happy new year penguin!

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JANUARY 25, 2020

justjared

♡ 9.075 Likes

justjared New couple alert?! YN LN, 21, and Formula 1 driver Daniel Ricciardo, 30, were spotted on a walk and getting cozy during a night out in New York. More photos now on JustJared.com #YNLN #Daniel Ricciardo Photos: Backgrid

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user1: well that's a couple nobody saw coming 😶 good for them tho

user2: These pictures are so creepy as to get these they literally have to stalk these people and are probably hiding in bushes or wherever to get the shots

user3: he's a full-grown man in his 30s messing around with a teenager how shocking 🙄

user4: how is she a teenager if she's 21??? she is a consenting adult and has been for a while...make it make sense user5: it's a 9-year age gap not 25 😑 y'all should learn to mind your own fucking business

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FEBRUARY 05, 2020

danielricciardo added to their story!

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yourinstagram added to their story!

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yourinstagram

♡ liked by danielricciardo, greeicy and 7,452,325 others

yourinstagram starry nights, sunsets, little moments, deep conversations & special feelings 💖🃏

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iamdannaschwarz pov: you were there to witness the first conversation 🤣

itsvittoriasousa never knew a person could blush that hard 😂 yourintagram you are both getting blocked 🙅‍♀️

fioamato 🃏🃏🃏

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michaelitaliano and scottyjames31 have followed yourinstagram!

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MARCH 11 & 12, 2020

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yourinstagram has added to their story!

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APRIL 09, 2020

yourinstagram

♡ liked by danielricciardo, jbalvin and 5,723,498 others

yourinstagram Quarantine with an aussie boyfriend: turns out, 'G'day mate' is the only greeting you'll ever need. Who needs handshakes anyway? Also, you get to excessively use the word 'mate' without being judged. It's basically a linguistic free pass 🤷🏽‍♀️😂🇦🇺

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user: OMG OMG IT'S FUCKING HAPPENING!!!! EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!

user: Dan-Y/N nation how we feeling today? 😍

user: wasn't she dating sebastianyatra tho?

user2: nah they've been friends for years

user3: «cristina» is lowkey about her tho 🤭 "you were 19, i was 23"?? and there's a 4 year age gap between them?? they deffff had something going on a few years back AT LEAST 👀

user2: who knows maybe they did, but they refer to each other as "like-a-brother" and "like-a-sister" so as far as we know they are only best friends 🤷🏽‍♀️

fioamato what do you say titi yourmomsinstagram does it get the seal of approval?

yourmomsinstagram 🤔🤔🤔 yourinstagram she face-timed me and told me to pass the phone so she could talk to him. They talked for an hour. They are besties now, she's just trying to play hard-to-get 🙃

danielricciardo and 5,345 other liked it

fioamato 😂😂😂

jbalvin encantado de verte feliz hermanita ❤️

danielricciardo tell your boyfriend he's really lucky 🤙🏼

yourinstagram thanks will do, mate 🤙🏼

user OMG??? you guys are so unserious 😭

user2 MOM??? DAD???

user3 danielricciardo yourinstagram i'm glowing, flourishing and thriving 🥰😭

michaelitaliano shitty accent though

yourinstagram I love my haters ❤️ you guys are my motivators ☺️ btw don't you have a kangaroo to fight?

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APRIL 29, 2020

yourinstagram

♡ liked by michaelitaliano, danielricciardo, lewishamilton and 6,498,498 others

yourinstagram Spanglish country…we’re doing it!! Watch kanebrown_music and I blend sounds, languages and dance moves in #LostInTheMiddleOfNowhere (Spanish Remix) 😜 song and video OUT NOW 🔥

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iamcardib OKAAAY MAMAAA 🧊🧊🥶

lali ALTA DIOSA 🔥

user she 👏 never 👏 misses 👏

itsvittoriasousa BRO U ABSOLUTELY ATEEE

user jaw drops to floor eyes pop out of sockets hearts out of chest 😍

danielricciardo wow caliente 🔥

user the amount of unwell I am in this exact moment

user2 daniel is right. muy caliente 🥵

user3 i'm losing my mind over 2 words + emoji okay

user4 daniel stop being a cunt and make an appearence in one of Y/N's ig lives

user5 user4 you could totally hear his voice in the last one lmao

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MAY 03, 2020

danielricciardo

♡ liked by pierregasly, jensonbutton, iamdannaschwarz and 710,610 others

danielricciardo Just a bunch of life 🤠🚜🇦🇺🇺🇸

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yourinstagram awesome taste in music mate 👍🏼

danielricciardo big fan of hers 👍🏼 love finding new underground artists ☺️ user imagine calling THE yourinstagram an "underground artist" lmaooo user2 they're both such little shits i love them your honor 😭

kristenanniebell ❤️❤️❤️

scottyjames31 I see you're in good company mate

corey_wilson goodness I miss the ranch so much

user daniel said lemme give you thirsty bitches a few droplets of water

user2 there's so much to unpack here omfg

iamdannaschwarz you're welcome 😌 also there's a no-return policy in the contract ok bye

fioamato you're welcome 😌 x2 itsvittoriasousa you're welcome 😌 x3 danielricciardo nah i think i'm gonna keep it for a long while thanks. i'll rate you guys with 5 stars 👍🏼

user3 THE LETTER ON THE LAST PHOTO ???? I'M SENDING Y'ALL MY THERAPY BILLS

user4 THE MATCHING RINGS PLEASE!!!!!!! 😭😭😭

user5 all this soft launch shit is killing me guys help somebody let them know that we already know so they can stop playing!!!

yourinstagram but where's the fun in that babes? 😌 user holy shittttt!!!! y/n ???? i- 🤯 user5 OH MY GOD!!!! HI MOTHER AJKFFLAHDASD user2 it's a fucking confirmation!!!! dan-y/n nation we got it!!! it's crumbs but we got it!!!!!

user6 we stan a suportive bf ☝️🤩

user7 999 for grammy's best album of the year ✨manifesting✨

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─── Please don't forget to reblog & comment! ♡

[aggro-my-beloved]

Prom? (Shaw Pack x Listeners Imagine)

note: I just made an A03 to post my works on as well, please feel free to follow and interact with my stuff there if that's more comfortable for you! (@aggro_my_beloved)--I also realize it's not prom season, but I never got to go to mine and am simply coping. TLDR: let me live :)

pairings: miloxdarlin' (non-canon), asherxarden (non-canon), davidxasher? (non-canon) davidxangel, miloxsweetheart, samxdarlin', asherxbabe

warning(s): mentions of childhood trauma, gambling addictions, alcohol addictions, sex addictions, an overall depiction of a horrible father.

summary: The pack reminisces about Dahlia High's prom night, and Marie may have overshared a little too much about hers.

word count: 2.2k

estimated read time: 10.5 mins

2010

Marie drew back to admire her son, donning a crooked cotton tie, his father’s black leather loafers scuffed to hell and loose on his feet, as well as a toothy smile. The improvisations of his wear are minor faults, hardly noticeable to the naked eye with thanks to his mother’s stitchwork. The three-piece suit tunic that once hung to his lower thighs, and pants that skirted the floor now fit him like he was born in it. 

“Look how handsome you are,” Marie clasped her hands and guided them to shield her face. It may hide her gummy smile but does little for her eyes prickling with tears. 

“Ma, please don’t cry.” Milo’s plea proved fruitless, as the interlocked fingers separated to wipe desperately at the dark circles beneath her eyes. Perhaps it was the endless nights the woman spent hunching over a sewing machine or the number of times Mrs. Chen, who owned the dry cleaner on 3rd, sent the old suit through the cycle. The stench of cigarette smoke was seemingly embedded into the fabric no matter what she tried. “Like bad tattoo, Miss Greer—it cannot be undone!” 

Milo didn’t mind the lingering smell, for he’s had years of training his nose not to curl in the backseat for fear of his dad’s scornful gaze clocking him in the rearview mirror. One particular coughing fit from his younger years resulted in the boy being sent to his room for being disrespectful—but he heard his father explaining to his mother amidst his tramping down the hall that the glaze over his eyes and reddening cheeks was “simply hay fever.” 

He hoped that, for the sake of his date, he could mask the smell with enough cologne to go somewhat undetected.

 

“You don’t think Dad will be upset about his clothes missing, do ya?” Milo’s nervous chuckle hangs in the air.

“When he waltzes in the door from this week’s business trip, I doubt he’ll be awake enough to notice.” Marie’s copious euphemisms for Colm and his dangerous compulsions did not go unnoticed by Milo at age seven. The ten years added to his belt only gave him time to decode them. Awake really means sober. Business trips are in reference to casinos, bars, or brothels—a very flexible term, to the boy’s surprise. He wants to applaud the front he’d seen through like glass since childhood.

 

“Besides,” her hand occupies itself with the navy tie, still askew, and aligns the windsor to perch evenly below his folded collar, “this is your night. You deserve to feel special, and so does this date of yours.”

 

Milo scoffs, fighting his eyes not to roll up to the popcorn ceiling. Facing his mother’s curiosity was no harder than the water stain from the upstairs neighbor’s dishwasher.

 

“How’d I know this would come up?” 

“Come on, I’m your mother. I deserve to know who my little boy’s become so smitten for.” 

“You’ll see them one day, ma. Patience is a virtue, after all.” It’s Marie’s turn to scoff and turn her cheek.

“Please, I only said that to get you to wait till Christmas for your Xbox.” She eyes the clock on the wall, reading six-thirty. 

“You said the gang would be here to pick you up by now, right?” Milo also cocks his head to see the time. 

“With Ash driving, they’ll be lucky to make it here alive.” His mother’s eyes are boring into his instantly, with furrowed brows and a frown to complement them. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” Another nervous chuckle filled the space before it was cut off by a gasp. Milo’s hands pat around his jacket pockets, eyes flying around the room frantically. “Shit, I forgot-“

“No, you didn’t.” Marie shuffles to Milo’s desk, opening a lower compartment where she’d stowed away his boutonnière and his date’s corsage. “I figured this would be a spot you never check. You said their favorite color is—“

“Yes, yes oh this is perfect! Thank you, ma.” Milo leans forward to kiss her cheek and envelope her petite body into a hug. 

“Still don’t know this person’s name, don’t you think that’s kinda odd?” A series of knocks resound on the front door, cueing Milo to sigh and extend an offer he knew his mother couldn’t refuse. 

“Would you like to meet them, ma?” 

Marie raced him down the hall before he could finish his question. There’s an untimed beating in his chest that he can’t stop. Is it from the excitement of tonight, or who he’d be spending it with? 

“Hi there, I’m M-“ 

“Hey, Mrs. Greer.” The figure lowered their head to the ground and dug the toe of their shoe into the concrete outside. Their hair appeared silky to the touch, skin looking just as soft as it glistened in the setting sun. The jewel tone of their wear complemented their complexion—comparable to a god(dess), their aura was all beauty and grace. 

“Tank?!” Marie gasps. “Oh my gosh, please don’t tell Milo I called you that. He isn’t supposed to know I still eavesdrop on his conversations. You know what, let’s pretend this conversation never happened.” 

“What never happened?” Milo tried not to choke on the cologne he’d spritzed on himself before dashing to find his mother. 

Marie and Tank exchange a knowing look and suspicious smiles. They reply in unison, “Nothing.” 

He squints his eyes, emitting a skeptical hum. “Already keeping secrets from me, huh?” He folds his arms defensively. “I expect this from you, but you…” His finger wags back and forth from his date to his mother.

“Consider it a trust exercise, babe.” Tank steps inside fully to clutch Milo’s hand with a shy smile. 

“Babe,” Marie whispers, “so that means…you two?” 

“Oh c’mon Mrs. G, it was only a matter of time.” Blonde, spiked hair, and sunglasses peek around the corner of the door, and Asher’s dazzling smile introduces itself to the three. “Who knows, maybe there will come a day you realize what you’ve been looking for has been here that whole time.” He lifted the sunglasses to shoot Marie a wink. 

“Oh god, please ignore him. He’s on his third redbull and feeling extra bold.” Tank explains with a shake of her head. “Keep dreaming, Asher.” They add.

“And feel free to not wake up.” Milo chides, urging the two to giggle. “You look good, by the way.” He and Tank lock eyes.

“Thanks,” their eyes flicker up and down to take in their date. They add in a low voice, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“You don’t have a date, Asher?” Inquires Marie. Silence falls between the three teens before they’re all laughing wildly at the parent’s cluelessness. 

“What’s so funny? Asher’s…” The boy’s eyes grow big, awaiting Marie’s words of flattery and reassurance. His ego deflates when she starts over. “He could have a date if he wanted to.” 

“He does.” Milo squeaks through his laughter. “Well, in a way.” 

“If you can call it that.” A low, rough voice disrupted everyone’s laughter as David marched into the room. 

“David. Oh! Wait, you two…huh, strangely that makes more sense than I thought.” Marie hums, shrugging her shoulders.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m confused.”

Marie opens and closes her mouth, unsure of how to respond. “Wait, you two aren’t...?”

“I’m going with Arden. She and I agreed that if we couldn’t find dates by this weekend, we would go together.” 

“Pity date.” Tank coughs into their elbow. 

“Where is Arden? Is she hiding back there?” Marie cranes her neck for a better angle at the apartment’s threshold.

“Waiting in the car with Chrissy and Amanda. And it’s still a date.” Asher argues, sparing a glance towards his fellow pack member. “That’s more than big guy over here can say.” Asher juts a thumb toward David’s looming body in the back. 

“Awe, David, why aren’t you going with anybody?” Growing a few inches this past summer (in several places) along with enough facial hair for a 5 o’clock shadow promised David enough street cred for a few romantic ventures. His pack mates went as far as placing bets on which of their peers would win their friend over enough to accompany him to the dance but were all left in shock as he turned every choice of theirs down. Marie’s question didn’t faze David. He’d explained it a million times to his friends and father this past week. 

“Going stag. It’s just a personal choice.” The mom snorts at this.

“I remember when I went to my senior prom. It was the same night your father and I got together. Nobody had asked me, and he was planning to “go stag” as well. A couple of drinks of punch and one slow dance later, we were in the locker rooms just—“Four pairs of eyes were on Marie now, who realized she’d gotten too caught up in reminiscing. 

“Uh, forget about it. The end’s not that important.” She waves off with darkening cheeks and a sheepish smile.

“I think it’s kind of interesting. I bet the songs and outfits were so much different years ago.” Tank interjects with a smile. 

“Yeah, how long ago was your prom, Ma?” Adds Milo, who takes the opportunity to snake his arm around Tank’s waist. They sidle up closer to him as a result.

“How old are you?” 

_________________________________________

Present Day

“I can’t believe how long ago that was.” The four friends peer down at the photo of them gussied up and taken by Marie. Asher was still in his sunglasses and throwing up a "rock on" sign with his tongue out, David had his arms crossed and was rolling his eyes at the ridiculous pose. Tank and Milo stood back to back, finger guns held under their chins and against their chests with goofy smiles. Fourteen years of the developed picture left it with sun spots and wrinkled corners, but the memories of that night still felt new to each of them. 

“We look sick as hell!” Asher nods. “Well, except David. He just looked sick of us.” 

“Some things never change.” Angel pipes up, daring to bring a finger to the corner of their mate’s mouth and lift it. 

“I think it was just you that he was sick of, Ash. There’s only so much pop music this stick-in-the-mud can handle.” Tank points. 

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea to play Taylor Swift the whole car ride there! You’re pointing fingers at the wrong guy.” Asher raises his hands defensively. 

“Well, it wasn’t me either. Only Amanda and Arden listened to her.” 

“Didn’t Christian request the DJ to play Paper Rings at our wedding?” Babe tilts their head in wonder, breaking their concentration away from the photo. 

“I’d love to see you in that getup now, darlin’.” Sam chuckles against Tank’s ear.

“You’ll have to dig in my closet for it. I’m not even sure I still own that.” They laugh to themselves, suddenly nostalgic for their high school days. 

“I have a question: whatever happened between you two?” Sweetheart inquires, looking between the past couple. There wasn’t a trace of jealousy in their voice, their aura, just pure curiosity. 

“I think it was just a summer fling. By the time graduation came around, neither of us felt that mate connection with each other. So what was the point of pursuing it, you know?” Tank nods along to Milo’s brief explanation as if they were mentally checking off every word. 

“Ooh, ooh! Remember how good the punch was?” Ash interrupts. 

“I’m surprised you remember. You had half the bowl.” Says Milo. 

“So?” Asher replies. The three all choke back laughter. 

“The shit was practically jungle juice! I could taste seven different liquors from one sip. And I’m pretty sure David escorted you to the locker rooms 'cause you were about to hurl.” Tank says. 

“The locker rooms, huh? Did you two happen to share a dance…one of the slow variety?” Milo quirks an eyebrow. 

“...it’s a possibility,” David mumbles with a scowl. Everybody on the couch begins giggling mischievously. “Wasn’t my fault the little shit wouldn’t let me drive him home because Hey There Delilah started playing. Anyway, it was barely a slow dance, he was just leaning on me the whole time whining about how nauseous he felt.”

“Hope y’all left room for Jesus in that gym,” Babe smirks. 

“I think I also shared a slow dance with uh…Kathy Boone? No, Karly B–”

“Karly Brown! As in our classmate in the third period, Karly Brown? So, you technically went to prom with Karly Brown?” Tank leans forward on the loveseat occupied by them and Sam, who’s now invested in his mate’s eager tone. 

"Two slow dances with two different people? On the same night? You little slut!" Angel hisses teasingly. 

"I can't believe I got Karly Brown's sloppy seconds," Asher whines. I thought what we had was special, Davey!" The alpha chooses to ignore their pestering in favor of Tank's question. 

“In a way, I g-guess.” David shrugs. “Why?”

“You two owe me twenty bucks!” They declare. "Suck it!" 

[writing-processing]

OK GRAVITY FALLS AND BOOK OF BILL DECIPHERERS I HAVE A THEORY. IT'S BEEN A WHILE, HASN'T IT??

thisisnotawebsitedotcom is obviously sus. I had an idea and it's taken me in an interesting direction but I can't finish it on my own because I'm too busy to learn how to decode a website! so I'm sharing the wealth because I do genuinely think I'm onto something. here's some handwritten notes from today. anyone wanna hop on this bandwagon?

Handwritten Notes TRANSCRIPTION:

Page One:

"THEORY -

The bolded/capitalized words in Soos' messages should all be treated as a massive anagram.

Words: ICEE, WILL, MESSED, UP, AGAIN?, I'M, YOU, HE'S, UNCORRUPTABLE, PDF, DLC

New phrase must have the same word count and letters per word count. For example, both "WEIRDMAGEDDON", and "UNCORRUPTABLE" have 13 letters.

Potentially, the order in which the phrases appear in the website's code is the order we need to put the sentence together.

Am not sure if the two apostrophes and the question mark are included or not."

Page Two:

"Interesting Phrases? ⭐ Definitively Included/~Multiple Random words.

THE PINES FAMILY

BILL'S CORPSE

BILL CIPHER

⭐ WEIRDMAGEDDON

MUST PERISH

~ ESCAPE/CHESS/CHASE/CRIME

MIND SCAPE

CULT OF BILL CIPHER

MUST FREE

MUST PAY

MAY BE USEFUL

~ PINE TREE / STAN / MABEL

~ COSMIC / SMILE / PERIL / RIP"

Note: As I was typing out the descriptions, I also realized CHAOS would be a valid word.