#even with everything going on in my personal life the frequent migraines alone would have been enough to seriously impact my ability to read

[libraryspectre]

I know this has never been strictly a book blog but in the past I have tried to keep most of the content book-related and that's just not the case for now. I haven't finished a book since August? I think? And around October I gave up trying to read at all because it was so demoralizing that I kept starting books and was unable to finish them.

I've accepted that with everything going on in my life, I just don't have the energy or attention span to read, as much as I'd like to. I'm trying to find joy in other things that aren't as difficult for my brain to engage with rn, like crafting and music (hence the new mcr sideblog).

All of this to say: I know my blog has been more off-topic than usual the last few months, and that's going to continue indefinitely. I doubt anyone minds, but it feels important to assert that I'll find my way back to reading eventually. In the meantime, I do appreciate the end-of-year/beginning-of-year reading posts I've been tagged to do, and I wish I could participate! It's just not in the cards right now.

[lyndsea-learns]

Sewing Room Organization

I still have that weird burst of energy for reorganizing my sewing room (I have my theories about it being an effect of the cocoa- enriched diet I'm trying out—apparently cocoa has some effects on neurotransmitters involved in migraines, ADHD, and depression so I figured why not), so I've been researching what people do with their sewing rooms, organization-wise, because I have to fight for every bit of organization in my life—it doesn't come naturally to me, so I have to study it.

But you know what's annoying about all of the "how to organize your sewing room" articles and blog posts I've seen? They're basically just listed of things you can do, without any exploration of why you would prefer one over another, or any exploration of what makes one system work and another fail, which means you're more likely to buy a bunch of organizational stuff and end up in the same position in the future. So here: an exploration of those things which may be applicable to other workspaces but which is targeted towards sewing.

For context: I primarily sew apparel. Although I've done a number of fiber arts, embroidery and quilting are not among them; if the organizational requirements are significantly different, my information might not be applicable. However, I do think that a lot of this is applicable even outside of sewing. I have ADHD and depression, which impair my ability to organize and stay organized. I live alone, without pets 😿, and don't invite anybody over to my apartment, so I'm free to use all of my rooms however I want.

Hidden Vs. in the Open: Furniture

A lot of furniture which is targeted towards sewists—especially the high-end stuff—folds neatly away (at least in theory) and looks like just a generic cabinet when closed. That certainly has its place, looks really neat, and has a long tradition behind it, but I think that for a lot of sewists it ends up being a feature that you pay money for because it looks cool/because the furniture is branded as sewing furniture, and then you never end up using it.

If your sewing furniture is in a public area of the house where you might want to hide it from the guests, or you think that it'll keep your equipment safe from children, animals, and anyone else who might wreak havoc on it (and you think you'll actually use it consistently), hide-away sewing furniture might be a good option for you, but do be aware that if you're not building it yourself you are paying extra for that feature.

If you have the luxury of an actual sewing room, made all pretty for your use, do you really want to hide away your machine, sewing table, and other accessories that would be in the hide-away sewing furniture, or do you just want it because it looks fancy? If you sew frequently, do you really think you're going to stow everything away when you're done working for the day and take it out again when you're ready to start working again, or will you end up leaving everything out so you can get back to work as quickly as possible?

Hide-away furniture might be a good solution in certain types of limited-space situations. Of course, at the extreme end of the limited-space spectrum, having actual furniture dedicated to sewing is completely out of the question, but there's a lot of space between that and having all the space you could need for your personal sewing studio. If you have enough space to buy furniture but have to share space between various activities, especially in an area shared with others, hide-away furniture will make it faster and easier to switch the space between activities . . . but that comes at the cost of being unable to use the furniture for other purposes. Because of the trade-off, it might be a better solution for a space shared with other people than for a single-user, multi-activity space. However, everyone's workflow is different and I'm sure that there are people in both situations who hide-away furniture will help, and people in both situations who it will hinder.

The main reasons to choose hide-away furniture are aesthetics and protection, but it's important to remember that for the most part those benefits only apply when it's closed—and it's not going to be closed while you're using it. You also may or may not have the discipline to close it after every session (I know I don't).

A non-hide-away table or desk will obviously display everything that's on it, at all times. For some people, that's unacceptable because they want to hide it when it's not in use. For some people, it's asking for trouble—cats, kids, other people, even the sewist themself is a hazard to their tools and supplies. For others, showing off their sewing tools and supplies is desirable and they don't want to hide them away (as long as the mess can be tamed enough).

For those who don't have a strong opinion either way, the fancy hide-away furniture can be tempting just because it's fancy, especially if you don't think it through. And if you use the space for multiple purposes, being able to easily switch from one activity to another sounds really nice. But a multipurpose table(s) and dedicated storage space for supplies when they're not in use might be a better idea. It will take more time to switch activities, but the space will be more versatile. You'll be able to use all of your tables for whichever activity you're currently doing. I'm not gonna lie, at least in theory this is more likely to result in massive mess than the hide-away furniture, but theory and practice are two very different things. Which brings us to the next part, which is

Active Use, Active Storage, Short-term Storage, Normal Storage, Deep Storage

Yes, it's true, there are multiple types of storage. I'm willing to bet that you already have your storage categorized the same way with only some minor variations.

Active use is not in any type of storage at all. You're using it right this very second. The scissors in your hand, the fabric currently under the presser foot. The only time something is in active use is if it is being actively manipulated. The moment you set it down, even if it's only for a second, it goes into

Active storage. This is a much-neglected part of the storage hierarchy, because it doesn't feel like storage at all. You've only put it down for a second! You need it to be accessible in the next minute! But if you neglect to consider your active storage, you'll end up with the scissors lost beneath the sewing machine manual, pins swept off the table and stepped on, things getting lost forever or damaged . . . and a cluttered workspace which eventually becomes hard to work at. Sure, you can periodically pause and clean up, but if you put some thought into your active storage you won't have to do it nearly as much. The goal for active storage is to reduce your obstacles (both physical and mental) to keeping things organized. Because you're taking things in and out of active storage so frequently, even tiny obstacles can get in the way of staying organized. Especially at the beginning of trying to keep your active storage organized, you may have to reevaluate your methods several times before you find a setup that works for you.

The most important aspects to think about for active storage are accessibility and organization. You need to be able to access the right item as soon as possible, without digging around or going any further than absolutely necessary. Because quick access is the entire purpose of active storage, you don't need large amounts of storage, and most of the time you don't need for the storage to be very differentiated: it's fine if the scissors and the thread are in the same place, because it's a small place and there isn't a lot in it. Ideally, each workstation will have certain items that live in the active storage within arm's reach of that workstation. You're almost always going to use scissors when you're at the cutting table, and unless you put everything into deep storage you'll visit the cutting table on a regular basis. It just doesn't make sense to put your fabric scissors into normal storage.

I know that "lives there full time" sounds like normal storage to most people, but this is not a spatial hierarchy of organization even if it has some crossover, it is a hierarchy based on groupings of how things need to be stored. Items that are accessed very frequently should be treated the same way for immediate-term storage and long-term storage. When you put down your scissors, you should have no more than a handful of places you allow yourself to set them down, regardless of whether you're just stretching your hand or don't plan to be back for a while. If there are some items in this category that need to be protected while you're not present (e.g. there are people in your family who would use fabric scissors on paper) you may have to modify my guidelines, but ideally those items would have a place to live (tray, cup, etc.) that would be easily accessible while you're there and that place can be easily moved into a safe spot when you're not. That way you're always storing them in the same place no matter how long you put them down for—it's just that the storage place his its own storage place. I find that it's easy to be consistent when each item has one place to be stored, and nesting the storage.

What kinds of storage would be both easily accessible and organized enough? (This is not a comprehensive list) Pegboards. Shallow trays. Pencil cups. Pincushions. Magnetic trays. For some items, such as pattern pieces or fabric that's about to be used (whether cut or uncut), the only workable solution may be to lay it out or stack it up. Hangers. On the dress form. They should each be ideally within easy arm's reach (or, if used when standing, 2 steps) of where they'll be used—don't store the thread snips with the fabric cutting tools, store them near the sewing machine. Store the pins near where you'll pin fabric together, and have a pincushion near the sewing machine, where you'll be taking them out. If you use one item in more than one location and it's not too expensive for your budget, get one for each location you'll use it at.

For active storage, scalability and long-term protection are not high priorities; regardless of how much space you have available, active storage should be kept small in scope. If you won't use it for this particular project and it's not one of the items that lives in active storage, it should go back to its home. After every project, your active storage should be purged of everything that doesn't live in active storage. In the same vein, most of the items that are in active storage won't be there for long, so you don't have to worry much about whether the light is going to fade the fabric or if the pattern pieces pinned to it are acid-free.

Whenever items are moved between types of storage, you should do at least a minimal inspection and perform any necessary maintenance, upkeep, or preventative maintenance. Because items that live in active storage are rarely, if ever, moved between types of storage, the end of a project or the beginning of one (whichever works better for you) can be used as a cue to do an inspection and maintenance of those items. That's not to say that it can't be done at other times; I just think they're good cues to act.

Short-term storage is the next category. It's actually a pretty small category, because it's very close to active storage. The difference is that short-term storage is basically when you're stepping away from the workstation for a while. If you need to protect items from other people or animals, you move those items into a protected area. You make sure the iron is off. You put the dust cover over your sewing machine, because every little bit helps keep it clean. If you don't have a dedicated sewing area and need to pack up, you pack it all up. Everything is almost ready for you to start, but it'll take a little bit of time to get started again rather than the no time at all. The emphasis with this category is added safety while you're away.

If you work on multiple projects at a time, you might want to move the current project into a storage container in short-term storage as soon as you're done with a session. If you do, it will make it easier to work on whichever project you're inspired to do next time, and if this project goes dormant it's already packed up and ready to move to normal or deep storage. If you tend to be laser-focused on a project until you get it done, this is probably unnecessary for you.

Normal storage is, well, normal. It's accessible, but you're not worried about keeping it in arm's reach. It's for stuff that you're likely to use on a project, but not on every project. Most notions and fabric will probably live here, and tools that don't take up too much space.

Projects that you're still working on, but are not the one you're working on right this instant, should each have their own designated storage area. What that storage area should be will vary depending on the project, but it should keep all of the pieces and notes (you do take notes, don't you? Future you will hate you if you don't—take it from someone who knows.) contained together and not mingled with anything else.

At this point in the storage hierarchy, it starts to become important to worry about scalability and long-term protection. You might start out with only a few fabrics and end up with a lot; you might start out with only a few fasteners or buttons and have your collection expand exponentially. Obviously, if you only have 5 of them further organization is unnecessary, but if you have thousands it's probably better to have some sort of classification system so that it's easier to find what you want when you're shopping your stash. The sooner you set up a scalable system, the easier it will be to deal with: you'll be able to put all of the #2 hooks into the #2 hook storage container as soon as you get them, rather than having to figure out what size your hooks are after the card is too chewed up to read. Also, not to be morbid, but sewing notions tend to get inherited by the next generation (I've literally inherited hooks and eyes that are old enough to have a "patented 1905" notice on them) and having them sorted is much-appreciated by the next generation.

As for long-term protection, I don't know much about it yet, but factors to remember are that acid and light are the enemies of long-term storage. If you wrap your fabric around something, it's best if you make sure it's acid-free (comic book boards, which many people recommend, are acid-free—comic book collectors are also worried about acid damage over time. There are other solutions that are also acid-free if you look, but if it doesn't specifically say it's acid-free you should assume it will eventually degrade your fabric). Unless you're the type to only keep enough fabric and thread for the current projects (and thus are not concerned about long-term storage), consider storing them in dark areas rather than on display. I know thread racks and neatly-folded fabric are very pretty, but the dye and thread are slowly degrading. You also want to make sure that everything is clean (not just from an "ew" perspective; dirty fabric attracts moths) and in good condition when you put it into normal storage, so that when you pull it out to use it'll be ready to go.

As for how to organize within particular categories, consider how you'll go through them. Will you need to look at all of your fabric at once to decide what to use, or will you be looking at only one color or material? If you need a button, will you be looking for a particular size, or a particular color? You'll have to consider your own workflow to decide. If you'll be looking for a button of a particular size, you should group by size, not by color. If you look by color, that's how they should be grouped. As much as possible, things that you'll be looking at together (e.g. red fabric) should be kept together, though it's all right if categories of the same type of object that you won't be looking at together are stored separately (e.g. red fabric is stored in the sewing room, blue fabric is stored in the closet).

In normal storage, items don't need to be kept as accessible as possible. It's okay if you have to do a little bit of digging or go to a different room to access things in normal storage. For the most part, you'll be accessing normal storage when you're preparing for a new project: figuring out what fabric, thread, notions and tools you'll need for it. What you don't want for normal storage is for things to be hidden. Huge totes of fabric that you have to dig through? Not for normal storage. That's for

Deep storage. If you have a large stash, you probably have some of it in deep storage already. Accessibility is not an important consideration for deep storage, because you don't expect to access it frequently if at all. Huge plastic totes stuffed full, piled 6 deep, at a storage unit? That's deep storage.

The number one consideration with deep storage is preservation. Keep it dark, keep it dry, keep it acid-free, keep it climate-controlled (I'm not 100% sure on the climate control being necessary, so please do extra reading on the topic—again, I'm not well-versed in preservation). Make certain that it's clean and maintained before you store it away.

Strict organization isn't necessary, or even always possible, with deep storage, but it's highly recommended to make a list of what's in each deep storage container and store the list with the container, like a shipping manifest. You're probably going to forget what's in which container by the time you open them next, so why not make it easier for yourself to find what you're looking for?

Garbage isn't really storage in the usual sense, but you do store it until you get rid of it, and it has its own requirements. You don't have to worry about preservation or special storage—everything can be thrown into the trash together. But one special requirement of garbage is that you need access to it at multiple locations. You don't necessarily need a large trash can at all locations; for instance, you're probably mostly going to have to deal with thread snips at your sewing machine. However, each location should have its own appropriately-sized receptacle within easy reach.

Items for sale or donation may be another category you have. They should be separated from the items you're keeping, but should be stored neatly. I don't use this category much so I haven't given it much thought.

But How Do You Actually Organize?

There are literally millions of storage containers out there, and you shouldn't limit yourself to looking at only ones marketed towards sewists; many activities have similar storage requirements. What you should worry about is whether your storage solutions will make it easier to access and store away the items they'll hold (because that's one of the keys to maintaining a method of organization), and whether they'll cause problems for items held within them for a long time (especially in the case of items that you intend to store for long periods of time). The best organizational method is the one that is easier to use and maintain than it is to not use or maintain.

I can't tell you "store this category of item divided up into one container for each size" or "store this category of item all together" because we're all different. For some people, it's stressful to have to sort everything into its own tiny container; for others, it's stressful to have everything thrown together. You'll probably find that for some items you prefer for them to be very sorted, and for others you prefer to do less sorting. The key, I think, is to imagine how you'll approach that category when you're planning to use it, and imagine what it would be like to retrieve it from various storage solutions, and to store away new items in that category. Does that storage solution energize you or do you feel a bit of resistance to the idea of doing things that way?

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

with no other option left, you’ve got to find oikawa and get answers from him.

word count : 1.4k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀if you weren't going to be able to get answers from makki or mattsun, there was only one more option for you to go with. hajime was unwilling to tell you anything, and from what you witnessed the other day, he wasn't willing to let other people tell you, either. if you didn't know any better, you probably killed someone before the car accident.

⠀your last resort was to search out the infamous tooru oikawa and get answers from him yourself.

⠀you knew iwaizumi would be absolutely pissed if he found out you've made up your mind with such a risky idea. then again, who was he to keep your life a secret? you had every right to know what you wanted to know, and you were so damn close to finding out the truth, only for disappointment and defeat to wash over the moment you saw hajime walking side by side with takahiro, as if holding the latter at gunpoint.

⠀it wasn't impossible to get hajime off of you, but with each passing day, he clung to you more and more. it was getting harder to get him off of you - and while you enjoyed his company, enough is enough. you needed to get away from him, at least for the day.

⠀you decided to get your chance at lunch. it was either now or never.

⠀you were surprised to see iwaizumi's tired expression as he made his way over to you, his eyes depleted and his posture completely slumped over. it was unlike anything you had witnessed in the time you spent with him post-accident. seeing him so dejected, tired... you almost felt bad for coming at him with your next wish.

⠀at least, almost. ridding yourself of any doubt by shaking your head hastily, you sucked in a deep breath and pursed your lips together tightly.

⠀"hajime." your voice was firm, causing him to turn his head towards you quickly, his face unreadable as you clenched your jaw at his peculiarity. "today, please, i just want to be alone. just me. i need my distance for today, to see things for myself. i don't dislike your company or anything, i just want to explore some things on my own for a little bit, even if only for today." as to why you had to explain yourself to him, you honestly thought was a bit ridiculous.

⠀"alright." you didn't even register his response at first, it was so quick. when it did hit, your eyes widened slightly, almost in disbelief, as your fellow third year simply shrugged, the scowl on his face still very evident. "yeah, okay. that's fine."

⠀was he planning something else? you didn't want to question it, but he had already walked off, away from the table the two of you usually sat at. you stared at his back as it became farther from your reach, a suspicious feeling growing in your gut as you folded your fingers together loosely, turning the other way and walking opposite direction of where he was going.

⠀it wasn't like hajime to just... let you do that. the hajime iwaizumi you knew, would at least fight to stay by your side. to be fair, his efforts would've been futile if he had tried to persuade you otherwise, your mind was fully set on being alone for the day. did he know you were going to find oikawa and get answers from him? did he finally gain some common sense and actually let you do your thing?

⠀you had resumed your daily life at seijoh for quite some time now, your injuries from the car accident had almost fully subsided, but occasionally there was the extreme migraine that would come out of nowhere. the doctors had told you to stay away from any athletic activity for the rest of the year, just to be careful that your bones aren't glass fragile.

⠀the one thing that upset you the most, was that none of your memories had come back. not a single one of them. you continued to make more with every passing day, but you wanted to remember the ones before everything happened. since you couldn't, wishing for something that seemed like would never happen, was useless.

⠀it was playing detective, in a case about yourself. the only witnesses you had to get your answers, were silenced by the one you could confide in the most. you didn't know what he could be hiding from you, and the thought of it was quite scary; there were no clues that you could pick up to put together like puzzle pieces - whatever you were living out, this seemed to be the reality before the accident, but something felt off. your conscience had become less and less blurry, but it wasn't all there. your brain refused to unlock that part yet, leaving you in the dark.

⠀where the hell is oikawa?

⠀after school hours were the best time to look for him, with no one around and classes done for the day. you had heard through rumors that the brunet frequently spends his time alone after school, roaming through the halls without anyone to whisper or look at him. it had come to a point where oikawa wasn't noticed by his classmates anymore - every time you saw him in the halls, he was simply pushed aside and cast out by fellow classmates, their faces not so friendly as he passes by them with his head hung low.

⠀what did he do to be so looked down upon? he was way too attractive to be pushed to the side like that. the way he carried himself, walked, and even spoke during class - his confidence was there, you could tell he was the charismatic type. it boggled your brain whenever you saw how the others treated him when you were around to witness it. he couldn't have done anything that bad to make people think so poorly of him, right?

⠀would it be stupid to randomly call out his name? you had walked through the halls for about ten minutes now, with no one in sight. you were beginning to think today was just unlucky; he probably went home for the day. maybe it was time for you to go home too; the universe seemingly didn't want you to know anything, it was inevitable in fighting it.

⠀the noises in the gym were saying otherwise, though.

⠀sprinting instinctively towards the sound, you appeared in front of the gym doors, a large sigh of relief coming out of your mouth as you looked at the singular person with the gymnasium all to himself.

⠀you couldn't help but smile. he's here. maybe the universe would give you your answers after all.

⠀from the looks of it, oikawa was jump serving a volleyball to the other side of the net; with the number of volleyballs dormant on the ground, you could tell he had been here for a while. you almost felt guilty for wanting to ruin his concentration for your sake - his eyes were narrowed as he stared straight forward towards the other side, bending down to grab a volleyball right in front of him. you crossed your arms and waited quietly. watching him serve just once wouldn't hurt anyone.

⠀what you weren't expecting, was the awed gasp that escaped your mouth the moment oikawa's palm touched that volleyball.

⠀nor were you expecting him to stop midair and fall to the ground, any focus he held long gone. he screamed as he clutched his right knee, tumbling to the ground instead of landing on his feet. your heart rose in a panic - he had hurt himself on the way down. you sprinted to him reflexively, the shock on both of your faces clear to see as you crouched down beside him, placing a hand on the knee he had injured.

⠀"y/n - "

⠀"does it hurt? are you okay? i'm so sorry for breaking your concentration, i shouldn't have been peeking in on you like that." in a anxious state, you swallowed a nervous lump in your throat as oikawa clenched his jaw to suppress any pain he was feeling, but you could see the tears welling up in his eyes. looking around, you had to find something that would help him out.

⠀screw looking for answers right now. oikawa's wellbeing is more important than that.

a/n : huehuehue here it is, i’ll be sure to have part eleven up in a jiffy! to those also reading rumor has it, i’ll have act two started soon!

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[cle1024]

erubescent | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin 

genre: angst, fluff 

summary: why are my cheeks erubescent? i shouldn’t be feeling this way about you; i’m not supposed to trust you.  bad boy!au, florist!au, high school!au, enemies to lovers!au 

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, cigarettes

a/n: it’s big cliche teen romance hours. i’ve been working on this for a while so it’s kind of long, i also apologise in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors. enjoy!

Monday, 2:35am. 

Music blasted from the garage down the street, as it had been for the past four hours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a huff passing your lips before you shoved the covers off of your sleep-deprived body. The house was on the other side of the road, three houses down, yet the sound it emitted was still agonisingly clear. There wasn’t a party or get together going on, it just served as the background noise for some boy who decided to do god knows what at two in the morning. ‘Some boy’ referred to the devil incarnate. Personally, you had your own bad traits and habits, and you were willing to acknowledge that. The boy, on the other hand, was not as willing. He was cocky, self-absorbed, arrogant, and many other synonyms. Students at your school found him annoyingly charming and attractive, parents found him to be deceptively charming and a total sweetheart, you thought he was a dumb prick. A self-absorbed, untrustworthy, dumb prick. A no-good, rudderless, troublesome bum. Hwang Hyunjin was the bane of your existence without even trying.  

Luck was never on your side, evidently. The bus ride to school took fifteen minutes at the least and school started at 8:00am sharp. Your bus was intended to arrive at 7:40am, but eight minutes had passed and it vehemently refused to show up. A groan bubbled in your chest, prepared to be expressed through your soft lips and into the crisp morning air, but the chance was cut short, much to your dismay.  

“Doesn’t school start at 8:00am?” As if your morning couldn’t get worse. The distinct voice of the boy, who’d managed to keep you up all night with his music, echoed from beside you. As far as you were concerned, he had no clue who you were: no name, class, nothing. You’d prefer to keep it that way. 

“Yes,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue before shoving his hands in his pockets. You weren’t sure if he was expected more of a conversation from you, perhaps some stuttering and blushing on your behalf, which you most certainly weren’t going to provide. Your morning had already gotten off to a shit start due to his behaviour, no need to make it even worse. As the clock ticked to 7:51am, the bus finally pulled up in front of the two of you. Hyunjin made a beeline to get on first, almost knocking you out of the way in the pursuit. You rolled your eyes: what on earth did people see in him? 

Wednesday, 1:22am. 

You banged your head against your desk continuously. Life was an unpleasant, torturous ride that you could not get off of. Hyunjin’s music was blasting from down the street, this time accompanied by the obnoxious laughter of his friends, all the while your chemistry report sat unwritten in front of you. Of course you had the scaffold and results you needed, but none of the motivation to write a full scientific report. What was the point? You didn’t wish to pursue a career that had anything to do with chemistry. It infuriated you immensely, the way adults dictated what was and wasn’t important to learn, even if you had no intention of applying it to your life later. You allowed your head to rest on the desk solemnly, the pain forming from where you’d hit it repeatedly - not hard enough to do any damage, but enough times for it to cause some pain. That, partnered with the lively sound of Hyunjin’s house, was enough to give you a killer migraine. You rubbed your temples tiredly, trying to recall if there was any panadol stashed in the cupboard near the kitchen. Much to your displeasure, you were almost certain there wasn’t. You sighed as you refocused your eyes on the bright laptop in front of you. With an exasperated sigh, you let your fingers wander over the keyboard to write the stressful report. You had roughly seven hours until you had to be at school and subsequently hand it in, going one more day with a few hours of sleep should be fine. 

It was absolutely not fine. You had fallen asleep at your desk after printing out the report and stapling it together, waking up with a major neck cramp and back ache. Furthermore, you only managed to catch your bus by a second, any later and you would’ve been forced to watch the bus roll away and catch sight of Hyunjin’s smug face as he sat at the back of the bus. Though you were glad you wouldn’t be subjected to such a look, you were stressed out of your mind. Stupid fucking chemistry report. As soon as you made it off the bus you muttered a thank you to the driver, speed-walking in the direction of your school. Hyunjin dawdled behind you, a fairly large distance between the two of you. He didn’t understand why you were in such a rush to get to that hell hole. He’d only noticed you for the first time on Monday at the bus stop, but now he saw you everywhere. Every time he wasn’t in class on Monday, either because he was skipping or because it was break time, he managed to catch a glimpse of your face. 

And you always looked like you wanted to die. 

It was quite humorous to Hyunjin, almost paradoxical in a way. You appeared to pay attention in class from the glimpses he got, dedicated to your studies he could assume, yet there was never an emotion other than stress or distaste creasing your facial features. He didn’t blame you, though. As soon as he could get out of that school he would run off to become a choreographer at the same studio as Minho. If he was old enough, he would do it now, but Minho said the company was strict on the ages of choreographers: “I’m not fucking around, Hwang. If they find out you’re still in school, they’ll come into my house and cut up all my clothes while I’m sleeping. I don’t have the money to buy new ones!” It was a very specific, unrealistic threat, but Minho could be very persuasive when it suited him. 

Friday, 1:41am. 

How anyone in the neighbourhood got any sleep was beyond you. Every night the Hwang house pumped music, different genres but none that piqued your interests or matched your tastes. At this point, it had been a week since it had started - you believed that was when his parents left town for a trip to visit relatives, at least that’s what you’d heard around school. People had been buzzing with excitement when they heard that Hwang Hyunjin had an empty house and could, as a result, throw a rambunctious party. Of course you weren’t as keen on the idea, but nothing you could do would stop it from happening. The party, thankfully, hadn’t happened yet, and you were secretly praying it never would. Though, now that you thought about it, could it be any worse? You already lacked sleep due to his deafening sound system, would the rambunctious sounds of teenage laughter really add to the noise? The only times you could make out the noises of his dickhead friends was when the music had been turned down significantly so they could hear one another yelling and hooting. Your eyes rolled at the thought, imbeciles. In their defence, the group had never directly done anything to you that made you feel that way. Rather, the way they acted left a bad taste in your mouth and a ringing sensation in your ears. Just like Hyunjin, they exuded an inflated sense of entitlement and were noisy beyond belief at school―at least when they were together. When they were apart, some of the boys were more quiet and mainly threw dirty looks or dropped an occasional comment. You weren’t sure whether Hwang Hyunjin classified as one of those boys as you’d never seen him alone at school, there was always someone matching his footsteps and snarky remarks. Come to think of it, the only time you’d seen Hyunjin stood alone was when you’d been late to catching the bus or the bus had showed up ten minutes late. Regardless, you had your reasons for wanting to stay as far away from them as possible. 

You sigh at the bright screen of your mobile, the energy draining from your body at the thought of working through the weekend. There was nothing wrong with the florist your family owned, you were merely unsatisfied with being paid the minimum wage of nine dollars and thirty cents an hour. Majority of the customers you’d had the duty of serving were restaurant or cafe owners, people with sick friends or family, lovesick teenagers, or middle-aged women who wanted to spruce up the dining room. Your mother often spoke of an elderly lady who came in with her handsome grandson, though you’d never been working when she frequented the store. You supposed the store was easy money, just neatly wrap some flowers with an adequate meaning and smile as genuinely as possible. There was never any displeasure from customers or passing civilians, but standing behind a counter for nine hours was less than stellar―and it was only for the grand payment of $135.40, that was better than nothing you supposed. You rested your head against the cool glass window of the bus, the cold air frosting the surface temperature. Grey clouds loomed across the autumn sky, the transition to winter becoming clearer each day. Autumn was usually a blue-skied sunny time, though as it faded into the crisp winter everything became abysmal. The sky took on monotone greys and watered the grass every now and then, it became dreary and people lost energy simply by looking at the dark weather. Though it was a small motivator for some, signalling that winter break would approach in a months time. Late November, always so deplorable. That was usually the time you had the most people coming into the flower shop looking for some bright arrangement to make their home feel less cold and dull; they cared not for the meaning but for the colour, even if it meant throwing together flowers of hatred and passion to achieve such a look. You wanted to laugh at their ignorance, but how could you blame them? Everything just felt so cold at this time of year. 

Sunday, 5:36pm. 

Rain gently pattered the glass windows of the store as you swirled the straw poked in your strawberry milk carton. The pink liquid followed the movement of the straw in a slow swirling motion, twisting in currents of dairy as a form of entertainment for your exhausted self. Business had been slower than yesterday, likely due to the ugly shades of grey and sharp rainfall haunting the sky, but you didn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing. You’d been standing in one general area since nine in the morning and your feet were aching. Your eyes drifted from the liquid inside the carton to the white clock on the wall―6:00pm wasn’t that far away. You were down to your last few sheets of the brown craft paper used to support the delicate bouquets, perhaps you could just restock that in the meantime. A cracking noise sounded from your back as you straightened your posture, rolling your shoulders from their previously hunched position. Your legs moved slowly in the direction of the staff only area of the shop, walking through the opened door in search for new paper. As you sifted through the craft paper, debating whether you continued with the tan brown colour or switched to an opaque blush pink, you heard the faint echo of the bell from above the door and the sounds of the rain grew heavier momentarily before the door shut. Your ears could just make out the sounds of quiet muffled talking, two voices evidently present, though you couldn’t pinpoint the exact words. With a stack of new pink craft paper in hand, you exited the storage room and returned to your usual spot behind the checkout, placing the newly gathered paper underneath the leftover brown sheets. From your position, you could clearly spot the two customers studying the large vases of fresh flowers, the taller and younger of which with their back to you. They had short yet messy black hair, slightly growing into a mullet from a lack of trimming, a white hoodie and light jeans. Their companion was much smaller, an elderly lady with grey hair and a soft smile. Perhaps this was the grandmother and her charming grandson that your mother spoke so fondly of―though that thought was immediately dismissed when the two figures turned to approach the table you stood behind. Hwang Hyunjin, of course it had to be. 

You weren’t the only one who felt less than stellar about the situation. As soon as Hyunjin laid his eyes on the person behind the counter, you, he groaned internally. He hadn’t a clue what your name was, nor had you done anything to him, but he distinctly recognised you as someone from his school. This was going to be beyond humiliating―surely you would taint his infamous reputation at school, or at least blackmail him to avoid doing so. His grandmother smiled warmly at you as she placed the yellow flowers on the counter, “hello, dear. Just those ones today,” you nodded with a small smile, your fingers working carefully to wrap the bouquet in shades of tan brown. Hyunjin tried to avoid looking at you entirely, though he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the lady who usually ran the store―you did bare a striking resemblance to her, so he just made the assumption that you were related by blood, just as he was to his grandmother. 

“Any special occasion for the flowers?” Your soft voice floated to his ears as you tied a silk ribbon around the paper. 

“Oh no, my grandson just likes tulips,” his grandmother chuckled as he forced an embarrassed smile, “though it would be nice to have some colour in this dreary weather,” you nodded understandingly. That was always the case in such weather. Hyunjin’s smooth hands placed the money in yours as he picked up the bouquet, praying to escape the store as soon as possible even with a growing storm outside. As soon as he heard the register close, he made his way to the front door of the shop while his grandmother shouted a quick thank you from behind him. You watched in amusement as the infamous Hwang boy exited the dainty little shop. You certainly never took him for a lover of flowers, let alone tulips. Then again, you only knew his reputation. You didn’t know Hwang Hyunjin. 

Monday, 3:51pm. 

Hyunjin glanced at the clock dreamily, feeling very resemblant of Britney Spears in her Baby One More Time music video. Only nine minutes until he could get home and prepare a half-assed meal, then ditch his after school study groups for some time with friends, as he always did when his parents weren’t able to monitor him. It was always a paradise when they were gone―no fighting, no classes until ten o’clock at night, no demands to turn his music down when it wasn’t even turned up halfway on his phone. He much preferred his grandmother. She was wise, sweet, gentle, and always prepared him hot chocolate and biscuits in the winter. Although now that he thought of his grandmother, he couldn’t help but cast his mind back to the flower shop and how you had served him. An internal groan erupted in him at the thought. He didn’t care that it was you who served him, he had no clue who you were, though the knowledge that you had some sort of leverage over him bugged him greatly. You knew he wasn’t all parties, unsafe drinking and scoffs, you knew he was a sucker for tulips and accompanied his grandmother to a warm little florist. The bell rung right as his eyes rolled subconsciously. He could only hope that your interaction at the flower shop wouldn’t synchronise with his visits to the store. 

Hyunjin glared at the cracked screen of his phone, furrowing his eyebrows at the text message from the girl in the year below him. If it hadn’t been for the persistence of the girl, he would’ve completely discarded her name from his memory. Son Bongcha, the way she squeaked it vivaciously was an earache and a half. The boy didn’t really know when Bongcha started her quest to ‘win his heart’ or whatever the fuck she was trying to do, he tended to not take much notice of her in hopes of getting her to realise that he was far from being interested. Though it seemingly never worked. Everyday, or everyday she could find him, she’d have another sickly giggle and batting eyelashes prepared in advance. At this point, his friends ridiculed him relentlessly for it―just as they planned to do now. Hyunjin felt the phone being snatched from his grip suddenly, causing him to swiftly look up and meet the sight of Jisung sprinting in the opposite direction as his other friends followed behind. The tall boy groaned at the thought of their teasing, “Ji, give it back.” 

“Why, so you can be harassed by…” 

“Bongcha!” The boys mimicked her voice in unison as the huddled against one another in the distance. Hyunjin rolled his eyes with an amused half-smirk. He initially felt bad for mocking the girl, but the memory of her desperate flirting seemed to rid of the guilt―he still vividly recalls the time she caused a scene in the hallway, loudly demanding he admit their relationship (which didn’t exist) to the rest of the school. That all happened when he was in his third and final year of junior high school, aged fifteen while she was only fourteen―Chan would’ve been in his final year of senior high school at that point. The thought felt odd; Hyunjin had only met Chan through Minho last year, the idea of the eldest being in school felt… wrong. His attention fell back to his laughing friends as they read over Bongcha’s irritating messages. Changbin rolled his eyes before taking a swig of his beer, “I don’t get why you haven’t blocked her number yet.” 

Minho laughed, “who else will be a loyal booty call?” 

Hyunjin sighed heavily, “not all of us rely on booty calls, Minho,” the older held his hands up in surrender as the others cheered Hyunjin on, “besides, a blocked number doesn’t stop her from approaching me at school.” 

After the words left his plump lips, Felix came running up to him and tugged on his arm before whining, “oppa! Why haven’t you texted me back?” The group laughed at his impression of the girl, the alcohol pumping through their blood seemingly hyped them up and amplified the humour of the situation. Jisung tossed the cracked phone back to Hyunjin. 

“Chan and Minho have no other way to experience her cringiness, don’t delete her number,” Hyunjin took the younger’s advice. No one would know about how they flamed the girl, and it felt like a good form of redemption for the way she had humiliated him in junior high school. It took months for those dating rumours to die down―although Hyunjin still isn’t one-hundred percent sure people knew the truth of the situation. Then again, the truth of a rumour always turned out to be the version people wanted to believe, no matter how much evidence proved otherwise. 

Thursday, 7:38am. 

Hyunjin’s feet slapped against the pavement gently as he strolled to the bus stop. He never usually took the bus to school, at least not since the first year of junior high when his parents last went on a holiday―some sort of romantic getaway bull shit, just as they were this time. Although he was used to the sound of honking horns and road rage from his short-tempered mother, even if short lived, he much preferred the journey from the bus. The walk was always comforting even in the depths of winter and swells of summer, and there was something about sitting on a bus with two other people that was oddly comforting to the boy. Perhaps he was just odd―no, if he was odd then no one would understand him fully, yet there were people who did, friends no less. A sigh escaped his lips as the bus stop entered his sight, as well as your figure sitting on the furthest end of the bench. He didn’t see you here every morning, likely because he took much more time to dawdle here than you did, though you were there on mornings where the bus was inexcusably late or you had woken up on the wrong side of bed far too late. It seemed like one of those mornings. As Hyunjin drew closer he could make out the dark circles under your dull eyes, the messy strands of hair that carelessly fell in your face, eyes half-shut as you looked ahead in a trance. He wondered how long it took you to get here each morning, perhaps you rarely ran into each other at the stop because you lived closer than he did, or perhaps you just had a more sensible understanding of time and its value. The thought seemingly left his mind not long after it entered. He hadn’t a reason to care for how you got to the bus stop, nor did he take much notice of you when you did happen to cross paths―except for at the florist. The dark-haired boy was close to forgetting that incident when it resurface with the sight of you. Sighing softly, he leaned against the poll of the bus stop sign and gazed in the direction the bus would usually come from. 

You picked at the mini pajeon on your food tray, only slightly listening to the conversation of your surrounding three friends. You could make out the sound of disgust made by Seungmin as Jeongin appeared to eat a chunk of rice whole, “Jeongin, you need to chew,” his nasally voice sounded diagonally to you. There was no need to look at the first year to know his response, you could practically hear the over exaggerated eye roll he often did at one of Seungmin’s critiques. Although they bickered a fair bit and tormented each other to no end, you knew it was out of non-blood related brotherly love. Yuqi chuckled from your left, nudging you gently to engage in a conversation outside of the two bickering boys. 

“How’s the noisy house going?” She smiled playfully before popping a piece of nori seaweed in her mouth. You mimicked Jeongin’s eye roll on a smaller scale. 

“Awful. Still staying awake until four or five in the morning after bashing my head against a wall,” Yuqi laughed at your dramatic words. Her elbow rested on the table as she shrugged her shoulders slightly. 

“I don’t understand why you don’t just say something to him about it. You’re not even neighbours and it keeps you up!” You sighed gently, knowing she was right. Of course the confrontation would be more beneficial, but it would also be your worst nightmare. You never wished to interact with Hwang Hyunjin. Besides, you knew complaining about his behaviour would only gain a scoff and door slamming in your face, perhaps a friendly “go fuck yourself”. 

“I just don’t want to complain about something when I know it won’t change.” 

Saturday, 1:43am. 

The buzz about Hyunjin’s potential party while he had the house to himself morphed into a nightmarish reality at ten o’clock, Friday night. He threw ‘everyone is invited’ type of parties, which only served as a way for desperate girls to throw themselves at him and blame it on alcohol the next day when he inevitably rejects him. You could remember Yuqi saying she would go, only because her boyfriend didn’t want to get wasted without someone reliable by his side―although you were pretty sure Yuqi just wanted to hear him drunkenly ramble about how she was the love of his life or some crap. Jeongin had been begged to go by one of Hyunjin’s friends, Felix. You hadn’t a clue how they met but Jeongin said he was a good guy, even when Hyunjin was near him―in all honesty, you’d never spoken to Felix in your entire life, you just knew that he and Han Jisung had gotten more detentions in one semester than you’d gotten in your entire time at school. Seungmin detested the idea of parties, way too many “loud and sweaty barbarians in one cramped space” as he once said, and you were in a similar boat. You didn’t know anyone at the party who wouldn’t be dragged away by someone giggly and drunk to leave you standing awkwardly, and you didn’t want to be in the same cramped house as Hyunjin―let alone his own house. You didn’t really want to think about the fact you could almost feel the vibrations of the bass from across the road, two houses down, though it was almost impossible when it was the main cause of your splitting headache. You sighed before grabbing your phone from the nightstand beside you, squinting at the brightness of the screen in your dark room. Yuqi’s simple text message, signifying her ending the night, appeared on your screen in the form of a blinding notification: xuxi is pissed off his face and telling me to never leave him, i’m really dating an overgrown child huh. A small chuckle escaped your lips at the thought of the six foot teenager babbling about loving Yuqi―you couldn’t blame him, Yuqi was practically perfection personified. Love and alcohol can make a person do crazy things, admit all their secrets and give everything away. Yukhei was just lucky Yuqi was willing to make the same sacrifices for him, regardless of his sobriety at the time. 

The clock on your phone displayed the early time of 2:46pm, eliciting a disapproving groan and eye rub from your tired form. You supposed it was catch-up for all the mornings you’d woken up with four hours of sleep. A satisfying crack sounded as you arched your back and stretched your arms, pulling the covers from your pyjama-clad body to make your way to the window. The weather was far more bright today, blue skies and fluffy marshmallows speckled around against the cool colour, though you could still feel the frosty nip of the air as you opened the window. You were met with a gust of wind and voices, indistinguishable but strong. Your eyes cast downwards towards the road right outside your house, immediately spotting seven boys in the area―you could easily tell who they were. You noticed Jeongin first, watching from the gutter as he laughed from beside another boy you hadn’t seen before. The dimpled boy, evidently older, had slightly curly brown hair atop his head and a cheerful grin on his pale face. In the road was Jisung and Felix, both in your year and far too loud for your liking―though Jeongin had defended them numerous times saying they were ‘funny and wholesome dudes’. Then you spotted Lee Minho with his head turned sideways and his back to you. A graduated boy with a permanent smirk and never-ending collection of flirtatious comments, that was the best way to describe Lee Minho―based off everything you’d heard about him, at least. He oozed sleaziness, though his smile in that moment seemed so genuine and pure as he laughed at the younger boys in the road. Seo Changbin sat nearby the elder male, his feet resting on the tar road as he sat on a skateboard identical to the one Jisung had almost fallen from moments ago. The most you knew about him was that he had a permanent glare, unwanted opinions to share all the time, and bangs that would seem annoyingly ticklish on your eyes. Directly across from you, supporting his outstretched body on his elbows, was the boy you had been running into far too often for your liking. There was a cigarette twiddling between his long fingers, though you could tell it was unlit and seemed to be staying that way. His gaze drifted, tired of absentmindedly looking up the street, to look straight ahead of him. He cocked his head at you almost teasingly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he maintained your gaze. Nothing was different about his appearance: same dark eyes, same dark messy hair, although slightly longer at the ends now. You pushed yourself away from the ledge of the window to avoid the shivering breeze and invasive gaze of a certain Hwang. 

Monday, 12:54pm. 

Yukhei leaned his head on Yuqi’s shoulder as he shovelled rice into his mouth, the minor display of affection earning a disgusted look from Seungmin. As they did every year, Yukhei and Yuqi marked this as their week of public affection in the lead up to their anniversary. It baffled your mind to think about how the pair had been together since the second year of junior high, four years on Sunday. You could never imagine yourself tolerating anyone in a romantic sense for that long―then again, you’d never had any romantic relationship in the first place. The idea of shy smiles and reddening cheeks made you sick nowadays, even though it was an ideal you once yearned for. The sound of Jeongin forcefully sitting down broke the concentrated gaze you had on your own food tray, glancing up at him momentarily to smile. Your eyes lingered for a second―the boy was positively beaming, braces and dimples on full display as he grinned enthusiastically. Seungmin studied the younger male beside him, “did you ingest the sun?” 

Jeongin rolled his eyes, though his smile remained, “no, I just had a good weekend and got a good mark on my chemistry report.” 

Yuqi smile supportively at the young boy, “good job, Innie!” He usually hated that nickname, but he seemed okay with Yuqi using it occasionally―she was like an older sister to him, even if they hadn’t known each other for decades. 

“I take it Hyunjin threw a good party.” 

“Yeah, we hung out the next day too,” the comment garnered a teasing “don’t go replacing us” from Yuqi, though you couldn’t really focus on that. The only thought on your mind was the heavy eye contact you held with Hyunjin, while he had that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. One incident at the florist couldn’t undo the cockiness that he exuded at all times. You hated self-righteousness―Hwang Hyunjin just so happened to be the walking form of such an undesirable trait. 

Saturday, 5:46pm. 

Your hands nimbly wrapped the bouquet of pale pink azalea flowers, they were the perfect decision in your eyes. They expressed fragility, gratitude and passion, all of which Yukhei harboured towards his long-time girlfriend Kim Yuqi. There was a goofy, dazed smile on his face as he undoubtedly allowed his mind to travel along a road structured by thoughts of her. You shook your head lightly, tying the bouquet with a delicate white ribbon before handing him the bouquet, to which he slid over the adequate amount of money and left with a thank you and a smile. You sighed as the door slammed shut behind him, squeaking slightly on its hinges―you had to remind your mum to get some WD-40 to fix that up. Glancing at the clock, you mentally praised the swift movement of time as you relished in the fact you only had fourteen minutes left. You allowed your head to roll forwards, stretching your cramping neck before rolling it all the way back, fixating your gaze on the white ceiling of the store. The bell sounded from the door causing you to return your gaze to looking straight ahead as your neck pushed your head back upwards. The familiar back of Hyunjin greeted you as he sifted through the display vases, clearly in look of a certain type of flower. You heard him curse under his breath before awkwardly turning to make his way to the counter―you could see that the feeling of wanting to avoid the other was mutual. He cleared his throat slightly before speaking with a soft voice, a tone that shocked you as it came from the typically rebellious boy, “uh―do you happen to have any yellow roses left? Maybe in the back or something?” You watched him fiddle with the ring on his right index finger before you quietly made your way to the storage room in search of the sunny roses; a symbol of joy, friendship, of get well. To his luck, there was a fresh display vase of the yellow petals waiting to replace the last one. 

“How many were you hoping for?” Your voice sounded as you reappeared from the nearby room. His head shot up towards you as he fixed his gaze on the roses. 

“Just a dozen, grandma only likes receiving flowers in groups of twelve,” he mumbled the second part more to himself than you, though you still made out the words. With a silent nod, you plucked twelve of the roses from the glass vase, wrapping them delicately in the pink craft paper before handing them to the tall boy. 

“I hope she gets better soon,” you offered as he took the bouquet. His hand was outstretched towards you to offer the necessary payment, though you shook your head in refusal. Hyunjin studied you for a second before shoving the money back in his pocket, only to turn and leave without even thanking you. A scoff passed your lips as he left the store. You didn’t expect much from him, but certainly he would have the common decency to thank someone for saving them thirty-six dollars―three dollars for each stem, though you didn’t particularly agree with the price. Regardless of the cost, Hyunjin should’ve thanked you for saving his money so he could spend it on more cigarettes that he wouldn’t smoke, or whatever the fuck he spends his cash on. 

Wednesday, 12:33pm. 

Hyunjin had essentially gone M.I.A after the flower shop incident, though you were certain it wasn’t related to your involvement. You chalked it up to taking care of his grandmother, or at least being by her side while she was sick, though other people didn’t seem to think the same―then again, other people didn’t know about the health of his grandmother. The only reason you knew was because Hyunjin wasn’t as quiet as he had hoped when he spoke to himself, you were never meant to know. You poked at your rice with your chopsticks in an attempt to rid the vague memory from your mind. Your eyes glanced around your surroundings, noticing how pathetically lonely you looked. From what you knew, Yuqi was studying in the library, Seungmin was at some student council meeting, and Jeongin was always late to lunch: “I have a full hour until lunch ends, why can’t I be twenty minutes late?” That always earned an eye roll from Seungmin, a boy who highly valued punctuality and reliability. In your opinion, he could go a little overboard with his withering patience, but you supposed there was nothing he could really do about it. Especially when Jeongin tested it every other day. 

A carton of strawberry milk was slammed on the table in front of you, though not with enough force to break the carton and allow the milk to spill everywhere. Your head rose, as did your gaze, in order to figure out which of your friends had decided to interrupt your pondering. Instead, Hyunjin stood with a hand in his trouser pocket and the other by his side, backpack slung over his shoulders as he looked at you with a blank expression. He gazed at you for a moment, breaking the contact to walk in the direction of his friends’ lunch table, somehow ignoring the gaze of every fucking person in the lunch hall. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you reached out to take hold of the milk, unsure as to how he knew to go for strawberry rather than chocolate or banana. There was a small sticky note, pale yellow, stuck to one side of the carton with messy handwriting scrawled on its surface. You dropped your chopsticks to peel the note off and decipher the words ‘now we’re even’, right above much smaller writing. You squinted involuntarily as your eyes traced the lines, struggling to make out the simple ‘thank you’ he’d, probably shamefully, written. A small smile graced your features before you opened the carton; you didn’t think about the fact people had watched the whole thing, not in that moment at least. 

“What was that all about?” Changbin questioned as the younger sat down at the table. 

“I owed her something,” he explained with a small shrug. 

Jisung scoffed in disbelief, “yeah, because you’re so giving, Jinnie,” the words earned a glare from the taller boy, but it went unnoticed by Jisung as he happily munched on his food. 

“Doesn’t matter, no one’s gonna see it that way regardless,” Felix commented absentmindedly before swiftly transitioning to another topic. Hyunjin drifted his eyes towards you, watching as you sipped from the milk carton and nodded slightly in acknowledgement as Jeongin approached your table. He furrowed his eyebrows, how had he never noticed you around Jeongin before? You placed the carton down momentarily before glancing around the lunch hall, eyes landing on the Hwang boy who was already staring into you. Though you didn’t react the way most people would—no flushed cheeks or shy smile, just a blank expression as you internally questioned why he was blatantly staring at you. The feeling it gave him was strange. It almost felt like you treated him like a human being, not a reputation or status to ogle at. He smirked slightly at you, causing you to turn away with an unimpressed expression. You were an enigma in the cafeteria; he knew so little about you, yet knew exactly how you felt about him with a few facial expressions. 

Thursday, 7:36am.

People seemed to have a fucking field day with your little — very little — interaction with Hyunjin in the cafeteria. Numerous people, majority of which gossiping girls you’d never cared for interact with, questioned you about your ‘relationship’ with Hyunjin. It made you agitated beyond belief, almost in a way that was unjustified. No, actually, it was most definitely justified. If you had a dollar for every time someone approached you to ask whether you two were dating, how you knew him, why he gave you milk, why you’d never spoken before, or anything that could get even a little bit of information — which would inevitably be the victim of manipulation and embellishment as it passed through the school — you’d no longer need to be working for your parents in that dingy old florist. You groaned slightly at the thought of the store. You knew you’d inevitably return whenever your parents told you to, until you got another and higher-paying job, and that would mean possible interactions with Hyunjin—with or without his smiling grandmother. Perhaps it was that thought that, unbeknownst to you, summoned the boy to your vicinity. School shoes slapped against the concrete pavement, smoothly approaching the bus stop. You could feel the sharp sensation of someone’s prominent gaze fixated on you, yet you waited until the approaching person had halted their movements to glance at them. You had intended to keep a blank expression on your face, though couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back into your head at the sight of his smug face. Hyunjin towered over your seated form with a faint smirk dancing on his lips. His smugness was likely prompted by your eye roll, or the fact he bought you a fresh carton of flavoured milk—not that it meant anything, he was repaying you after all. Hands in pockets and backpack slung over his shoulder casually, the consistent styling of the consistently careless Hyunjin. You diverted your gaze elsewhere, refocusing on the road ahead of you. His eyes were still trained on you, you could sense it. There was no watch on your wrist, nor did you know how to tell the time based on the sun’s position in the sky, but you could estimate at least two minutes passed before Hyunjin opened his snarky mouth. 

“Tutor me.” 

An exasperated sigh passes your lips, your gaze shifting up toward the cloudless blue sky, “what do you need tutoring for? Your grades are fine.” 

A noise escaped his mouth at your words, a mix between a scoff and a chuckle, “no, not school,” you didn’t like the tone he used in that phrase—as if you were a pure moron for even entertaining the idea of school tutoring. He continued shortly, breaking your irritated thoughts, “flowers.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned your head to look at him, evident puzzlement tracing your features. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, diverting his gaze momentarily to the pavement beneath him. You appreciated his shift in tone as he spoke, a softer and calmer, almost soothing, sound. 

“Teach me about flowers.” 

And so you started working every Saturday, dedicating two hours of your shift to teaching Hyunjin the meaning of flowers that caught his eye, sometimes helping him decently wrap a bouquet of flowers. It was odd how you saw the gentler, less cocky side of him when in the quaint store, yet couldn’t even glance at him on the grounds of school without copping a greasy smirk—you liked to assume they were directed at someone stood behind you. 

Saturday, 1:06pm.

The hand of the clock ticked silently with each movement, mixing with the bustling volume of passing cars and pedestrians. Although your gaze was fixated on the time-telling contraption, you didn’t absorb the numbers the hands pointed to, completely zoned out as your mind drifted to other thoughts. There were few of significance, but there were many roaming your head. They were distracting enough to stop you from recognising and acknowledging the sound of the bell above the door. Unbeknownst to you in your distracted state, Hyunjin shuffled into the store with a black hoodie pulled over his unkempt hair, a carton of strawberry milk contained in his right hand. The sound of the carton being roughly placed on the wooden countertop was enough to break your trance, giving you a sense of déjà vu as you shifted your gaze to meet Hyunjin’s, “what’s got you in a trance?” 

You sighed as you fiddled with the sealed carton, “the three hours of sleep I got because of your party last night—so nothing new.” 

“Oh, ha ha, very funny—” 

“It wasn’t a joke.” 

“—For your information, that was just a get together with the guys. The party’s actually tonight,” you rolled your eyes. You didn’t care what he wanted to call it, it was still way too loud, “you should come.” 

A scoff passed your lips at his suggestion, “I’ll pass, I’d rather not go deaf from how excruciatingly loud you play the music,” he shrugged nonchalantly before snatching the flavoured milk from you, taking a small swig of his own while his eyes darted over the fresh flowers. 

“What do coral roses mean?” 

“Friendship, modesty, and sympathy,” you mumbled in boredom. 

“Perfect!” He exclaimed, waltzing over to the display of coral roses to pluck one up. As he reapproached the counter, he shoved the flower in your face, “if you value our friendship, you’ll have great sympathy for me and make my party enjoyable by being there.” 

You watched him in bewilderment. Part of you was confused as to why he wanted you at his party so desperately, while another questioned whether he really just called you friends. You didn’t want to dwell on it too much—Hyunjin was friends with lots of people, you weren’t significant to have that title. At the same time, you couldn’t help but question the meaning of his words. Had Hyunjin ever outright called anyone his friend, other than the group of boys he seemed to be physically attached to? The taller boy watched you in amusement as your cheeks tinted a soft pink colour, deciding to take your silence as a yes. 

“Great, it starts at nine.” 

Saturday, 9:35pm. 

You absolutely did not want to venture to Hyunjin’s house, regardless of the situation. The fact it was for one of his ‘raging parties’ was no better. Nine o’clock had passed thirty minutes ago and the party was well on its way - you could already hear faint retching if you strained your ears enough - and yet you remained in the warmth of your bedroom. If Hyunjin hadn’t directly asked you to come then you wouldn’t be sitting in your room, dressed for a party. If that little shit hadn’t made out like your presence was vital to the party, you wouldn’t have to ponder intently over reasons to bail. You cursed Hyunjin under your breath as you threw on a pair of shoes—he insinuated that he was expecting you, and now you felt like you were obligated to go. 

As soon as you opened the front door, a tsunami of regret washed over you, along with the stench of sweat and alcohol. You had taken one step inside and already felt overheated, overwhelmed, over it. You’d caught sight of some familiar faces — most of Hyunjin’s friend group surrounded some curly-haired guy, Jeongin was chatting with Felix near the group, Hyunjin was nowhere in sight. You weren’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing—on the one hand, Hyunjin was someone you knew. Jeongin was wrapped up in a conversation with Felix, and you didn’t know the freckled boy well enough to insert yourself into that conversation. But at the same time, Hyunjin was probably half-past wasted right now with an amplified ego — if that was even possible — and even more unbearable cockiness. A sigh passed your lips as you began to push your way past the sweaty bodies—why was everyone so fucking sweaty?—to escape to a less crowded area. Truthfully, you had no clue where you were going. Of course you didn’t, this was a house you’d never had the desire to enter. Gosh, why did you even come? It wasn’t too late to turn back around, walk out that door and return to your semi-quiet bedroom—only semi-quiet due to the deafening volume of an infamous Hwang party, even from houses away. That would be the better option in this moment, partial deafness seemed better to deal with than complete deafness. 

“Y/N!” 

You take it back. Complete deafness was far better, especially in this moment. Perhaps if you kept walking he’d think it wasn’t you and give up, right? No, of course not. You’d never be that lucky. You’d made it ten more steps before the boy grabbed your wrist and spun you around, beaming at you with his childlike grin. You loved Jeongin, who didn’t? But all you wanted was to go home, this party was a mistake and you already knew it. A small smile graced your face, “hey, Innie.” 

Jeongin was one of those people who were always happy, always smiling and living their days without any problems or bothers. He was persistent, persuasive and currently dragging you towards the group of people he previously stood near. You didn’t want to go over there, but if you refused Jeongin would look at you with a tiny hint of sadness in his eyes and you’d feel a tonne of guilt land on your shoulders—he didn’t mean to guilt trip people so easily, he was just one of those people that never deserved to be sad. Thankfully, Jeongin knew better than to throw you into a sea of strangers and expect you to survive, opting to drag you over to Felix, who snacked on a plate of colourful macaroons. You’d never spoken to Felix — the most you knew about him was that he was Australian, Hyunjin’s friend and had freckles — but you had a gut feeling he wasn’t as bad as his association with the delinquents would suggest. The boy smiled brightly at the two of you, seeming to emit rays of sunshine through the toothy grin; he seemed sweet and friendly. You should really just trust Jeongin’s judgement at this point, he always managed to construct more accurate judgement on an individual’s character than others, “hi, Y/N!” Felix was very bright and cheerful, it came across in his sober voice—at least you assumed he was sober, he didn’t reek of toxic alcohol like most of the party goers. You smiled slightly in response, waving in what you deemed an awkward fashion. Jeongin easily continued his previous conversation with Felix, one you tuned out for the most part as you instead focused on the suffocating and humid atmosphere, until Felix suddenly bid goodbye to the younger, disappearing into the mass of people. The remaining boy contentedly munched on a pastel pink macaroon, eyes sparkling and widening slightly under the hazy lights of the room. 

“Jeongin, do you know where I can get some fresh air?” 

The boy nodded swiftly, directing you to walk up the stairs, down the hallway and onto the balcony, away from the vomiting and skinny dipping teens. You nodded with a soft thank you before happily following his directions — if you couldn’t leave this wretched atmosphere, for no reason other than your own fabricated obligation to be here, then you might as well get as far away from it without leaving the property. 

The moonlight glistened against the chlorine water, music pumping through the building and teenagers yelling to hear each other. Oddly enough, it was peaceful. Even with the splashing, drunken giggles and what you think is people having a sloppy makeout session, the atmosphere felt calming — the visuals of party goers vomiting and skinny dipping didn’t assist in building that atmosphere, but you supposed there was nothing you could do about it. At least, not until a hand tapped your shoulder, breaking you from your trance of observing people on the grass. You turned your head, met with the sight of Hyunjin with his hands in his pockets. He gestured for you to follow him and, for some reason, you did, leaving your spot on the second floor balcony. 

It was quieter on the roof, somehow, despite the worrisome journey. You were thankful for your shoe choice, anything too uncomfortable or without proper grip would’ve had you tumbling to the ground below—that would’ve been embarrassing, painful, and potentially lethal if you landed on the concrete. The stars glimmered against the dark night sky, seemingly closer than most other nights. Hyunjin hadn’t spoken to you at all, even during the difficult climb to your current spot. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d escaped his own party, or why he’d taken you with him, but you weren’t mad about it. The silence was nice, and you were certain that opening his mouth would dismantle the tranquillity. If he was as wasted as most of his other friends — specifically Jisung — then he’d certainly come out with some horny bull shit. You weren’t in the mood for that, not now, not ever. The music softened in the background and a loud voice ordered everyone out of the house with a short “party’s over”. It seemed sudden, but you supposed it had been going on for a while. And Hyunjin had disappeared. What time was it? 

“Can I ask you something?” Ah, shit, he actually wanted to talk. You mumbled a word of confirmation, waiting for Hyunjin to come out with something you could answer with sarcasm or an eye roll, “what do you think of me? Honestly,” you weren’t expecting that one. You could feel Hyunjin train his eyes on you with intent, curiosity, perhaps hopefulness. What were you supposed to say? Was he hoping for something other than the typical ‘bad boy’ description? You couldn’t provide. 

“I think you’re… confident,” uncertainty laced your tone, “and curious. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, but I don’t think many people see that part of you. And- I don’t think you want them to,” you turned your gaze to him. His eyes seemed to be glazed over, his mind in a distant land of existential thoughts or offence at how you perceived him. His brown orbs shifted to his lap while his lips stumbled over words, seeking a way to carry on the conversation—or end it, you supposed. 

“I…” he trailed off hesitantly. This was a side to Hyunjin you’d never seen. Sure, you’d seen his confidence and cockiness at school, his laidback humour at parties and the admiration his eyes held whenever he was among flowers, but you’d never seen him look so confused. Lost, rather. He seemed anxious, on edge and scared. He didn’t want to confront the words forming on his tongue, didn’t want to break down his walls for someone who saw him every Saturday and taught him about flowers. He couldn’t help it, though, the words seemed to slip out without permission, “I feel like no one truly knows me.” 

Hyunjin’s words hung heavily in the air as a hush fell over the neighbourhood, “I just―” he paused slightly as his breath hitched, raising his gaze from his lap to the starry night. His eyes were glossy, the stars twinkling against the water forming around his orbs. His walls were breaking, “I just wish I could go somewhere no one knew me,” as the sentence progressed, his voice shook. It was getting harder to keep it all in. For once, he decided to let it all go. Allowing his walls to crumble, the dams in his eyes broke too, tears glistening on his smooth cheeks as he choked up a sob. You watched him with pity, subconsciously moving to wrap your arms around him in a comforting hug. He sobbed into your chest, “I just want people to know who I really am.” 

All your perceptions were based on falsehoods, fabricated rumours and retellings of old stories. He used his tough exterior to hide his crumbling contents, any traits that could be taken as weakness or fragility. As the boy ― because that’s what he truly was: just a boy ― cried under the stars, only one thought could cross your once racing mind. Hwang Hyunjin’s very existence was a lie. Hyunjin’s pained sobs were reduced to soft sniffles after what felt like a long time, though tears still soaked his cheeks. You couldn’t tell how long it had been since everything still looked the same, almost like time didn’t move. A shaky breath passed Hyunjin’s lips, his head raising from your shoulder. 

“You know, I always thought you were really interesting. And pretty.” 

“Hyunjin, you don’t mean that,” you dismissed. Your head shook slightly in disagreement, you didn’t want Hyunjin to tell you that you meant something. 

A humourless laugh echoed in the night, “yeah, I really do.” 

Hyunjin looked at you with intent. How did the night get to this point? There was a part of you that wished you stayed home, just so you didn’t have to feel these butterflies in your stomach. He must’ve been drunk―was he drunk? Were you drunk? Memories of the night had slipped through your fingers like warm brittle sand. The night sky danced on his cheeks, reflecting against the salty water his eyes had unleashed previously. His eyes stayed on your face, flickering from your eyes to the lower part of your face momentarily. Then, he was leaning forwards, closer and closer. Closer until his lips were pressed against yours in a piteous kiss. His hand moved from his side to touch your arm, just above your elbow, as if he was making sure you didn’t slip away from him. It was like he wanted you there, but you couldn’t believe that. Salty tears stained your lips in the midst of pitiful desperation, until Hyunjin pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. His breathing was sharp as he choked out a whisper, “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to feel alone anymore, even if it’s only for a moment.” 

You could’ve sighed in disappointment, but you stopped yourself. That’s all you’d ever be to Hyunjin: temporary. A last resort, even. You didn’t mind―no, you didn’t want to mind. As the moonlight danced along your skin in hues of blue and grey, the epiphany of falling for Hyunjin sank in. Damn it, you really fucking minded. 

Tuesday, 7:57am. 

You’d made a point to avoid Hyunjin since the incident at the party ― or, rather, after the party. Every time you glanced his way in the hallways, he was already staring at you with enough intensity to make you shift uncomfortably. He’d tried to approach you during break yesterday, but you bolted with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom before he could open his mouth. You left a disheartened and anxious Hyunjin behind, as well as a confused Jeongin and querying Seungmin. A sigh passed your lips at the thought; you’d probably have to face him on Saturday, regardless of whether you did or didn’t want to. Hyunjin was persistent, after all. 

But he was also a liar. It became most obvious when you were approaching the classroom with your locker hurriedly, attempting to sort your belongings out before morning roll call began. Glancing absentmindedly down the hallway, you halted in your tracks with a double-take as you processed what you’d seen. Hyunjin, the boy who claimed to find you pretty and interesting, leaning against a wall as he sucked face with Son Bongcha. She was in the year below and had an annoying voice, that’s all you knew about her―she also had an iron grip on his wrists, but you didn’t see that. You glanced away dejectedly, rushing away to save yourself from further embarrassment. What did you expect? Hyunjin said he just didn’t want to feel alone, you didn’t actually mean anything to him. How could you be foolish enough to let yourself fall for him? He played you, in more ways than one. He acted like he cared, claimed he was different, and kissed you as if he was actually attracted to you―and you made the mistake of kissing back the same way. 

Hyunjin fought against the grip of Bongcha, shoving her away with a mix of disgust and anger across his features, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” He hollered. Her eyes held innocence, satisfaction, delusion. The girl’s face faltered with confusion, her mouth opening to spit an excuse in that unbearable squeaky tone. Hyunjin didn’t want to hear it, even if he’d questioned her, “stay the fuck away from me.” With one last seething glare, Hyunjin stormed away from the younger girl. He was just thankful no one was around to see it and spread rumours about what they saw, the last thing he needed was a school full of people convinced he was with Bongcha―at least, that’s what he was telling himself to stay calm. 

Nothing was out of place at lunch. Everyone sat in their regular seats, having the same conversations and engaging in the usual banter with their friends―your friends were no different. Jeongin was encouraging Seungmin to meet his other friends, namely Felix, while Yuqi smiled softly at their trivial bickering. Things were different for you, though. They were bad. You had too many thoughts racing through your mind, as they were in a sprinting race with no determined finish line. This day sucked, but things could only get worse with your luck. A throat cleared behind you, “Y/N?” You turned around lifelessly, meeting the gaze of Hyunjin while the rest of your table―and the surrounding tables―watched the scene unfold silently. It was none of their business, they knew that, but no one cared, “can I speak with you? Alone?” With a slight nod, you stood from your seat and followed him into the hallway. 

“I was just wondering if we could do the tutoring on Thursday instead of Saturday? I’m busy this weekend and we don’t have after-school studying on Thursdays,” he rubbed at his neck awkwardly. 

“Yeah, fine.” 

A relieved smile graced his lips, quickly falling at the memory of the other thing he wanted to talk about, “and―uh, about the party… I didn’t mean―”  

“Forget it, Hyunjin. I know what you meant,” you tried to suppress the stinging bitterness that leaked through your tone, you didn’t want Hyunjin to know your true feelings on the situation. It would’ve worked if you were as good at lying as he was, but you weren’t going to say that. Hyunjin understood why you felt the way you did ― or, how he assumed you felt. After all, he brushed you off like you meant nothing to him. Just something to fill the void of isolation growing in his heart; the kiss meant nothing. Gosh, he was such a liar. It was an opinion the two of you unknowingly shared―for different reasons, of course. 

Thursday, 7:25pm. 

An awkward two hours had passed inside the florist. Hyunjin had sensed something was different about you, chalking it up to his careless actions on the weekend. He’d been beating himself up about it since he did it, and he knew you didn’t want to talk about it, but he felt as if he owed you an explanation. One you hadn’t made up by yourself, based on his poor choice of words after it happened. Your delicate hands fiddled with the stems of three white flowers while Hyunjin formulated the right words to say. He didn’t want to mess it up again. 

“Y/N, about Saturday ni―” 

“God, Hyunjin, just forget about it!” The boy was startled into silence by your outburst, “I know you didn’t mean it, I know it was a mistake!” Frustration and betrayal laced your tone, your cheeks reddening slightly as your face flushed in annoyance. 

“I wasn’t―” 

“I won’t tell her, okay? But stop lying to me,” Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed with perplexity. He couldn’t figure out what you were talking about; he wanted you to listen to him. 

“‘Her’? What are you talking about? I’m not lying about anything,” a pit formed in his stomach as anxiety pooled his chest. 

“Bongcha,” the name was barely decipherable due to how quietly you spoke it, as if saying it any louder would summon her on the spot. Hyunjin’s face fell, for fuck’s sake, “stop acting like you genuinely care, it’s obvious you don’t.” 

Silence settled into the air before a sigh escaped your lips. The flowers slipped from your fingertips as you moved away from the table, “I have to go.” 

“Y/N!” Hyunjin spoke desperately, thankful no one was in the shop to see your dispute or his despair. 

“Just… don’t talk to me anymore. Please,” with one last sorrowful look, you turned on your heel and exited the store, the sound of the little bell ringing throughout the now empty store. Hyunjin watched you leave, hopeless. How did he fuck it up this badly in such a short amount of time? He hung his head low, eyes glancing towards the flowers you’d dropped moments before. 

White chrysanthemums; the truth. 

Such a bitter irony, if only you’d stayed to hear it from him. Hyunjin couldn’t help but scoff. 

Wednesday, 10:21pm.

Life ― at least, almost two weeks of it ― had been hell for Hyunjin, to put it dramatically, since your confrontation at the flower shop. Every time the two of you met eyes at school you’d quickly divert your gaze, rushing away before Hyunjin could even process what was happening. He never ran after you, partly because he knew you wouldn’t listen to him and partly to avoid other people seeing the interaction. People struggled to mind their own business, he supposed it was human nature for many. Bongcha had made the wise decision of finally listening to Hyunjin and staying the fuck away from him; it was too late, you’d already seen enough to misunderstand his relationship with the younger. He hadn’t understood how he became so attached to you without noticing. That fateful night, when he stumbled over his words after molding his tear-stained lips with yours, he finally realised it was an attachment he feared. When moonlight shone on his salty tears and stars flickered at him with lost hope, the words simmered in the air with a false certainty. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol pumping through his blood, he was completely sober that night. No, it was his own fault. It was his slip up, his fabrication that came out sounding more truthful than it was. You weren’t just temporary, a spur of the moment decision he’d never talk about. You meant so much more, that kiss meant so much more. Would you ever see it that way? Hyunjin doubted it. When you told him how you saw him, as per his request, you were slightly inaccurate in your description. Now, your perception had changed, there was no doubt in his mind it had. You saw him as a liar, didn’t you? He could accept and admit that, but not for the wrong reasons. When it came to you, he’d only lied twice: the night of the party and the morning of the party, when he called you his friend. You were so much more than that. 

The following afternoon, the universe delivered Hyunjin the perfect opportunity to explain himself to you—even if just partially. He stopped in his tracks as he saw you walking home from school, he assumed you missed the bus or something. With the encouraging words of his friends from the night before echoing in his mind, Hyunjin jogged in your direction, “Y/N!” 

Your footsteps sped up, unsuccessfully attempting to keep distance from the long-legged boy, “leave me alone, Hyunjin.” 

His hand grabbed at your wrist, “no! Not until you listen to me.” 

You sighed exasperatedly, “what do you want?” Your exhausted voice made Hyunjin falter slightly, but he couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

“I’m not with Bongcha, I never was, okay? I wouldn’t waste someone like you for someone like her!” 

“How am I supposed to believe that?” 

So you did see him that way: a liar. He couldn’t blame you, and he didn’t know how to prove you wrong. Why didn’t he think about that? A tugging motion made him snap out of his trance, your wrist leaving his clutches as you turn away and speed walk home. 

Thursday, 9:52pm. 

Rain pattered against the glass pane of your window. Your eyes followed stray raindrops as they cascaded down the surface, dripping away and out of your sight. The vibrating of your phone rippled across the table, the sound causing your eyes to snap towards the device in a mix of curiosity and annoyance. Lifting your head from the desk, the screen glared at you brightly, causing you to squint to become accustomed to the brightness. There were six messages from Jeongin, an Instagram notification and reminder to take out the trash at 6:00pm. It was now 9:52pm, you needed to mark that reminder as complete. Your finger swiped the messages from Jeongin, opening the conversation and being met with five screenshots. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

   |  innie ☼ : these are messages between hyunjin and bongcha, please don’t       misunderstand their relationship 

   |  why couldn’t hyunjin send these himself? 

   |  innie ☼ : you blocked his number 

   |  innie ☼ : please, y/n, just give him a chance 

Your stomach did flips as you read through the messages. Some were from last month, some from last week, some from the day they kissed, but they all conveyed the same message. Hyunjin wasn’t attracted to her, not in the same way she was attracted to him. There was a screenshot of an argument they had on Thursday, after you confronted him at the florist. With furrowed eyebrows, you processed the revelation. He didn’t kiss her? Your expression fell. Gosh, you’d really fucked it up, hadn’t you? He wanted no part in that kiss, and what right did you have to be jealous anyway? You were meant to be friends, after all. His temporary. Even if that title hurt, you still had to take back the words you said, fix whatever relationship you had left with the boy. It was raining outside, of course it was, but you didn’t care. You pattered down the stairs, unlocked the front door as quietly as possible before running out into the rain, fully intending to run over to Hyunjin’s house. There was no need. The boy sat on the curb outside your house, black strands of hair and black attire a void in the dim streetlight. At the sound of the door closing, he turned to see the cause. He was soaking wet, probably cold, and had a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Black strands of hair were splayed against his face, dripping with rainwater as he continued to be pelted by the droplets. His head turned away from yours, returning his gaze to the moonlight; you two were making an awful habit of meeting under the moonlight. Parting your lips, you prepare to spout heartfelt apologies, even if you don’t completely forgive the words he spoke to you. 

“Were you going to come looking for me?” His words escaped before yours could. 

“Y-Yeah, I wanted to apologise,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue in disapproval, producing a ‘tch’ sound. 

“What for? You don’t owe me shit,” the cigarette found home in his lips, breathing in the toxins with desire. 

“For making assumptions about you and Bongcha. I owe you that.” 

The cigarette drops against the dark road, soon being grinded into the surface under the sole of Hyunjin’s scuffed sneaker. 

“It’s fine, I would’ve made the same assumption,” the boy stood up, his legs straightening with a satisfying crack. How long had he been sitting there? “Are we back to being friends?” 

You nodded hesitantly, “yeah. Friends.” 

Hyunjin had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him, on more than one occasion now. He could sense the unease in your voice, as if you were hoping for him to say something more or re-title you as something other than a friend. There was nothing more that he wanted, but he didn’t deserve it. You were too good for him, far too good for him. He was a liar, a delinquent, a bad influence. All he could ever do is hurt you. Even if it pained him to hide it, some things had to be left unsaid. 

“Can we—talk about the party?” 

The boy looked away from you momentarily, rethinking his decision. It’s for the best, “no. I don’t want to talk about it.” 

His tone was icy, brushing you off as if that night meant nothing, “Hyunjin, you bugged me to talk about that for days.” 

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter anymore,” he was exasperated. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, it would mean revealing his true feelings or making you feel worse. All Hyunjin wanted was to keep you safe and happy; getting wrapped up in him would be your downfall, he just knew it. 

“I need to know why you did it.” 

“Drop it, Y/N.” 

It was a warning you didn’t listen to, “please, Hyunjin.” 

“I said, drop it.” 

“Why did you do it?” You hadn’t intended for your voice to be so loud, you didn’t mean to shout, your walls broke down involuntarily. The world blurred around you, salty tears forming in your eyes as you thought back to the night, “why did you kiss me when you clearly didn’t feel that way about me? I don’t want to be something to temporarily fix your loneliness.” 

Hyunjin kept his eyes down guiltily. He didn’t want to say anything, but your words kept pressing him to speak up. Your voice was echoing around him, cutting through the night sky and tugging at his ears. The sobs that formed in your chest were bubbling out; the rain was mixing with your tears. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t escape what happened. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could feel it slipping out. 

“Why would you do that, Hyunjin? I—” 

“Because I love you!” The shout rang through the cold air like a lone gunshot, “I love you and it scares me!” 

A poignant silence settled around you, the words sinking into your chest and pumping your heart to beat faster. A slip of the tongue and here you were. Days of sadness, anxiety and insecurity, all over Hyunjin’s unknown fear of his feelings. Could that be worth it? “Hyunjin—” 

In swift motions, the boy paced towards you to grab your face in his hands. Tilting your head upwards, his lips collided with yours in a show of passion, with every emotion Hyunjin could muster. Thumbs rested gently on your cheeks, laying against the few escaped tears and fallen raindrops, as his lips moved against yours. As the rain pelted your skin, running through your already soaked hair and tickling your exposed skin, words didn’t need to be spoken. When those lips moved against yours, you finally saw the hidden emotions Hwang Hyunjin was so afraid of. 

[nicolehampton]

{ OLIVIA O’BRIEN . CIS FEMALE .  24 . SHE/HER }  did you see that { NICOLE HAMPTON } just pulled up in hidden hills with { BRODY ROBERTS } sitting next to them in the passengers seat - isn’t that cute ! you know, for a { LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST & MODEL }, i’ve heard they’re really { SELF-INDULGENT }, but that they make up for it by being so { APPEALING }. i see them all the time on snapchat && yesterday in US WEEKLY i read that they { HAVE  } a son named asher - can you believe that ?!

{ OLIVIA O’BRIEN . CIS FEMALE .  24 . SHE/HER }  did you see that { NICOLE HAMPTON } just pulled up in hidden hills with { DEREK KING } sitting next to them in the passengers seat - isn’t that cute ! you know, for a { LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST & MODEL }, i’ve heard they’re really { SELF-INDULGENT }, but that they make up for it by being so { APPEALING }. i see them all the time on snapchat && yesterday in US WEEKLY i read that they { HAVE  } a son named zeus - can you believe that ?! **zeus is her oldest child

TW: MENTIONS OF ABUSE, DRUGS, LIQUOR

i’ll edit and add zeus and derek into her bio when i can figure out how to piece them in correctly && after i’ve plotted with my pairs xoxo

basic info.

name. nicole janelle hampton. birth date. september 14, 1996. pronouns. she/her. species. rebel child. hometown. beverly hills, ca. sexuality. bisexual. occupation. host of THE LATE LATE SHOW WITH NICOLE HAMPTON & model

physical.

height. 5'1. eye color. green. hair color. brunette/blonde. build. petite/curvey. tattoos. 9. piercings. 8. scars. one on her left upper thigh. style. boho chic. faceclaim. olivia o’brien.

in-depth.

zodiac. virgo. mbti. intp. mental. depression. eyesight. excellent. drug use. some, weed, cocaine, molly. alcohol use. socially. languages. english, french.

basics.

◦ nicknames: nicki, niks, nik, baby, that bitch.

◦ age: 24

◦ hair: blonde

◦ eyes: greenish blue

◦ sexuality: bisexual

◦ family: zeus king (son) age 6, asher brody roberts (son) age 5, noel hampton (older sister) age 25, ivette hampton (mother estranged) age 39, david hampton (father estranged) age 41.

bio.◦ 

Nicole, being the baby of the family, was an angel from the time she was born until around 16. In her infancy she was, as her family praised, one of the most peaceful children they’d ever encountered. Her mother adored her, despite the fact that Nicole was a through-and-through daddy’s girl. Her parents were the head chair members for the CBS broadcasting network. As a result, she grew up loving all things pretty and glittery - and even becoming spoiled in her youth. She was an avid wearer of makeup and spent much of her time playing dress-up with her sister. 

Her parents wanted their children involved in extracurriculars from a young age, forcing Nicole into singing lessons and dance classes which filled much of her free time. To further monopolize on much of Nicole’s childhood, she was ushered into numerous beauty pageants alongside her sister, feeling entirely inadequate whenever the crown wasn’t bestowed upon her (however rare those times were). Through her own interest, she discovered a passion for writing music and its accompanying lyrics. A habit she carried with her throughout her entire life. Nicole had always whirred with creative energy, and constantly cracked jokes.

Nicole’s ambitions and personality unexpectedly shifted when she entered High School. This was where she truly found a way in which to grow into herself. Seemingly overnight (to those around her) she transitioned from a dainty wallflower into a turbulent, exciting, free-spirited (and self proclaimed) wild child. Much to the dismay of her loving family (her mother complaining that she was the source of a near constant “nikki-ache”, or migraine in layman's terms). On her 15th birthday, as if a gift from the universe, she was offered a modeling contract from a renowned modeling agency, Zarzar. It was through her pursuit of modeling that she got a taste, and addiction to the limelight. A year later, on her 16th birthday, she won the title of Miss Teen California. Between modeling and her consistent extracurriculars she continued to foster a stronger tendency to be rebellious and “wild”. She found herself on a never-ending merry-go-round of parties, drinking and sneaking out. With this newly forged nightlife she began dabbling in something more sinister, deciding that the drink simply wasn’t enough, she began finding drugs, another viable rebellion.  ( i mean what good is having family money if you don’t spend daddy’s hard-earned cash on drugs, right? ) Despite being the center of attention, which is what she thought was all she’d possibly need, sweet Nicole also noticed she never truly seemed happy.

Often she struggled with depression as a result of pressure placed on her to be the perfect picture daughter her parents desperately wanted her to be. Even though she was always her father’s little princess, she struggled to find independence, her own footing, and her place in the world.

At the age of 18, Nicole moved out on her own savings due to an on-going struggle with drugs ( mostly cocaine, but she wasn’t really picky...she liked to joke that she abused any and everything equally ) and seemingly never-ending fights at home which caused a considerable rift between her and the rest of the picture-perfect Hampton family. 

That same year, Nicole found a new way to establish herself and maintain her lifestyle. she began stripping at Synn Gentleman’s Club, a high-end strip club in West Hollywood. She’d met many of her current connections while stripping, subsequently cutting off all connection with her family soon after, except for her sister. 

Right before her 19th birthday during a shift at Synn, she was assigned to work the VIP section wherein she met a man by the name Brody Roberts, a reputable ( and darkly alluring ) producer and director, who quickly took a liking to Nicole. It didn’t take long for them to hit it off. he’d frequent the club she worked, getting only a dance. Once the two were done, he’d leave her an egregious tip and venture from the club until the following night. 

The two engaged in this dangerous courtship for long enough that brody became tiresome of this charade and presented Nicole with a devious ultimatum: in order for her livelihood to continue ( ie. getting bestowed large sums of money nightly ) she’d have to renounce her days on the pole for days on his arm (or face immediate termination and blacklisting from any and all reputable clubs within a feasible radius). An offer she couldn’t refuse. She knew he would be able to support her and offer the life she’d once been accustomed to before falling out with her family. 

Soon thereafter, Nicole had found herself living with brody and became his kept woman. her days were filled with a monotony of repetition that Nicole quickly realized she wanted to escape. she’d managed to save enough money to find herself a small place and the day before she signed the lease, she fainted from exhaustion during her morning run and was taken to the hospital. upon receiving bloodwork the cause of her fainting was actually an unknown pregnancy. 

Nine months later, they welcomed a son, Asher Brody Roberts. 

Asher was a difficult baby ( often sick, colicky ) causing additional strain on a relationship which had already nearly met its end. That's when Nicole made her change. It started small, distancing her own finances from that of her son’s father, she then began to dabble in music and amassed a sizable social media following which allowed her to jump-start her career separate from her estranged boyfriend.

Two years later, with meticulous planning and the help of her best friend Olivia and Olivia’s boyfriend Jaxson King Nicole was able to move all of her and asher’s belongings out of the home during a week long shoot that brody was on. 

Nicole did not get a clean nor healthy break from a relationship that had already drained her for the better part of four years. She knew that she had lost part of her formative years (being 18 when she’d met the man with whom she would share a part of her life forever, and stuck until she was 22) to Brody, a manipulative and narcissistic man who she hated to adore. Her heart ached every single time she’d hear his specific text tone, or see his name take over her phone screen. She’d wanted desperately to contact the police, to see what kind of assistance she could get from what she only knew as harassment (ultimately to be talked off the ledge by Olivia). 

Nearly a week after Nicole had made her grand (and melodramatic) departure in the night, she found herself in a meeting over coffee with the man whose bed she’d shared for years. She was anxious and cranky and was met with cold smugness from her counterpart. Brody, a smart and wealthy man, was not going to relinquish his prize without a painful fight. As he sipped his coffee, and with all of the curtness he would bestow upon a perfect stranger, Brody announced to her that if she did not willfully come back - he would charge her with the kidnapping of his son. A toddler.

Nicole spiraled in that very second. She knew he meant it, and she knew that with his power and connections (all fueled by money) he could paint her into the narrative that best suited him, and that would force her to lose custody. With reluctance and all of the self-preservation she could muster, Nicole collected her and Asher’s belongings and returned to the home she thought she’d managed to escape. 

It didn’t take long for Brody to feel comfortable again, thinking he’d created a chess game that he couldn’t lose. He began taking on more projects, longer commitments of his time, while Nicole was left to plot alone with their son. It was during one of these extended periods of Brody-ness bliss that Nicole's wandering eye and coyote-caught-in-a-trap mentality bested her. She’d met another man. 

Theo, the focus of her attention, was the antithesis of Brody: sensitive, kind, wholesome, charismatic and most of all not a blatant narcissist. He was genuinely, unapologetically and irrevocably good. Everything she hadn’t sought out, nor thought she wanted. Yet, everything she needed. Nicole found herself diving headfirst into a hidden relationship. She brought him around her son, whom he was fantastic with, and she knew in that second: she was going to run to him. 

Nicole convinced Theo to contact a lawyer on her behalf so as to not leave a trace that Brody could stumble upon. She found the legal course of action that she could take in order to move herself and Asher out of the home Brody owned, and made her second escape. Straight into the arms and home of her secret lover. 

Brody discovered, to his grand dismay, that he had no legal recourse for Nicole and that he would inevitably have to allow this sleeping dog to lie. The two worked out a custody arrangement that neither were truly happy with, and she found a new false sense of security in their world. 

Having rid herself of the relationship that was hindering her and Theo’s happiness, the two allowed themselves to date. To even make the leap into falling in love. They dated for a little over a year and in that time Nicole’s life had taken a turn. She found the independence she’d longed for, her career took an upturn. For the first time in her life, Nicole was unstoppable. 

After dating for a year, Nicole and Theo decided to get married. The couple took their time planning the wedding, Theo understanding Nicole’s struggles, and hesitancy in regards to marriage. He’d been kind, patient, and loving which prompted Nicole to take the leap during a trip to Aspen. They planned a speedy wedding and everything appeared copacetic until mid-ceremony when the officiant asked if there were any objections and no other than an uninvited guest spoke out. 

At that moment Nicole was faced with a difficult decision: she could marry the man she had grown to love or forfeit him for the man she knew was bad for her… in every sense, two could be hazardous to one-another.

In a moment of panic, Nicole chose self-preservation. Sparing herself the internal turmoil of being stuck with a choice she didn’t feel right, she fled from the altar and in a flash of white disappeared from the church. In her wake, she left behind two shell-shocked men, and a conglomeration of confused attendees. 

During the days that followed Nicole sought refugee on the couches and spare beds of friends who welcomed her and her son while her former fiance packed her things and the memories of the life they were once committed to sharing. 

While still reeling from everything that had transpired during the aforementioned weeks, she had managed to gain a sense of resolve and clarity for the first time in her adult life. She was without a romantic partner for the first time in her adult years, and instead, her life was now solely committed to herself and her son. She got a place for the two of them, somewhere she was proud to call home and make their own. She found stronger footing in her musical career, something she’d been unable to fully dedicate herself to before. And she managed to gather the reigns on her own life, without the assistance of anyone else. 

Nicole had built herself into a woman she didn’t think she’d ever become. Someone who her son deserved. A bright, powerful individual with a life uniquely her own. Who had finally gotten the self-respect to realize she didn’t require a man to get by. That her own tenacity could carry her to places she’d only dreamed.

Granted, in this whirlwind of growth and development, she didn’t avoid a struggle here and there. Namely in the form of waking up in the bed of a man that she didn’t belong with. A man whose son she raised alone. 

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 22

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Chapter 22 Fallen

“No, I haven’t seen him,” the bartender said, pouring ale into a crystal clear glass. “Try The Forum.”

Effie nodded.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“Is it true you’re having his kids?” he called after her before the door swung shut between them.

Back on the square Effie drew a deep breath of the sweet air. She needn’t go to the pub in The Forum. She’d already been at the shopping center, under the pretense she’d pick out some things for the babies.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in any of the pubs, taverns or liquor licensed restaurants in the Capitol.

She would have welcomed the sight of a plastered Haymitch at two in the morning but he never returned. She wasn’t sure what she thought she’d accomplish by looking for him. Just, holding on to her foolish hope.

But who was she kidding? He was long gone.

She didn’t blame him.

“You have to tell him, Effie,” Annabel said from the beginning. “He’s the father. He deserves to know.”

Yes, he was and he did and each time she dialed his number, after that first disaster of a call, she lost heart.

Because how could she tell him he was going to be a father when she knew Haymitch didn’t want kids?

Just falling pregnant felt like a deceit but she just couldn’t bear the thought of an abortion, not after what she did in the Games.

She’d been so careful. She couldn’t even understand how it still happened until she retraced her steps with her doctor.

That night after the December Fair when she and Haymitch slept together and it all ended so badly she woke with one of the worst migraines of her life. That’s what stress did to her sometimes. They weren’t frequent but whenever one hit, sooner or later she always puked.

The idea that the pill she took each morning might not have been completely absorbed by her body yet never even cross her mind. She just had two spoonfuls of sleep syrup and went back to bed, leaving her where she was now.

She rested her hand against her stomach and felt the hard stares thrown her way.

People expected her to feel too ashamed to even leave the house and the bigger she got the more it seemed to agitate them that she wouldn’t play by their rules. But she didn’t care what they thought or did. She refused to apologize for her babies.

It was time she headed back. She needed to call the children for starters. Make sure he got home OK. It was long overdue.

She heard them before she saw them. It was like they materalized on to the square and Effie’s heart sank.

Of all the people in Panem!

“Effie!” Gloria shrieked and flashed a white grin.

It was hopeless. She was too big now, too slow, there was no way she could escape. Realizing there was no way out, she just stood her ground as the flock surrounded her.

“Where’s Prince Drunkard?” Gloria asked and muffled chuckles came from the other girls. Their perfectly manicured hands held everything from soda pops to ice cream to licorice strings and blood red lollies. They looked from Effie to Gloria and back again, eager to see what happened next.

“Let me pass, Gloria.”

“Just curious,” she smiled. “Mind you, I never spilled your little secret. Wouldn’t want to spoil the fun. Oh, no. Let’s just say I… pointed him in the right direction. Where’s hubby now? He already walked out on you?”

“Let me pass!”

“Think we hit a nerve there, girls.” Gloria snickered and the others giggled in assent. She looked Effie up and down. “A district breeder,” she tsked. “I suppose we should’ve seen that coming. And with Haymitch Abernathy of all people! You sure scraped the barrel.”

“Haymitch is a far better person than you’d ever hope to be!”

“And where is he now? Hm? Seems very clear to me he doesn’t want anything to do with you or the bastards you’re cooking. And you kinda deserve it, don’t you think?”

Effie’s lips were pressed almost no non-existence. Because it was true, what Gloria said. The younger woman smirked and took a step forward. The others followed like obedient dogs until all gaps had closed.

“Leave me alone.”

Gloria shook her head.

“I think not. I think we shall have a look in the pretty little bag. Presents for the half-breeds?”

She could have tore her apart with her bare hands and thrown her into the river but she had the babies to think of. Gloria took another step forward and Effie took one back, only met by a wall of the others.

She looked around the square for help but everyone, from the stall owners to the shoppers to the passers by all went by their business like the neither saw nor heard. Only Jerome's son looked straight at her. He stood alone behind his father's fruit baskets and his eyes showed no mercy.

Gloria tried to grab the bag and Effie whipped it away.

“Don’t touch me!”

Boosted by her friends’ chuckles Gloria tried again and this time she seized it. The straps snagged on one of Effie’s fingers and she staggered forward a step.

“Hold it!” a voice boomed across the square, making everyone look up. Not just Gloria and her gaggle of friends but everyone. The ring around Effie dissolved and in the crack between two of the women she saw Haymitch, heading straight for them.

”The hell is this? What’s the matter with you?” he asked, face beet red. ”What’s she done to any of you lot?”

It was like a spell had been broken. Many of the young women looked confused, dazed, like woken from a dream. Even regretful, some of them. Not Gloria. She only seemed slightly startled by this turn of events but she recovered quickly.

“Well, well, well, baby daddy to the rescue.”

“Stop acting like a damn five year old!”

“What a catch you got there, Effie. I can smell it on him from here. Yeah, who wouldn’t want to dip into that gene-pole? But I suppose, anyone sharing beds with you turns to drink sooner or later.”

“Enough!”

“Or what, handsome?” Gloria asked. “You’re gonna knock me out with your breath? Not in front of the rat pups, huh?”

Something flashed across Haymitch’s eyes. A rage so deep some of the women shrieked and their sodas and popsicles all splashed to the ground when they fled. He was over at Gloria’s in two strides and whipped the bag from her hand.

Gloria didn’t run. She only blinked, her mouth forming a perfect O. She glanced to her friends for assistance but the few who remained had all given her a wide berth, watching with horrified excitement.

She looked back at Haymitch who towered over her and her Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as she swallowed.

“You can’t hurt me,” she said, her voice small. “I’ll scream. Everyone is looking.”

It was like she shrunk under Haymitch’s stare. Deflated like a balloon and for a second, Effie almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

Then Haymitch’s lips suddenly curved into a dark smile. His gaze fluttered up to her hair. Too late Gloria realized what he was going to do.

“No! Don’t you dare!” she cried when Haymitch simply reached in.

And plucked it right off her head.

Gloria’s friends gasped, not quite able to surpress the giggles bubbling up inside them. Clearly they didn’t know Gloria’s beautiful, perfect, stunningly glossy hair, now in Haymitch’s hand, was in fact a wig and they didn’t seem too sad about it.

“Give it back!” Gloria shrieked. Hand pressed against her lank, mouse gray hair forced down with pins she tried to grab the wig from Haymitch but he held it out of reach. He backed from her, turned in a half-circle and threw it as hard as he could.

Every pair of eyes on Heaven’s Square, including Effie’s, watched it fly high and far until it landed right at the top of a big tree.

Gloria was positively livid. She stomped her foot on the ground like a three year old.

“Animal! You inhuman monster! You get it back to me right now!”

Haymitch didn’t waste one more look at her. He went over to Effie and with his hand against the small of her back he walked her off the square, leaving Gloria to hover under the tree with her friends, the wig hoplessly out of reach. Her howls followed them all the way.

“Go back to Twelve! You don’t have a job anymore, no place to live! What are you still doing here!? Everything was perfect! Absolutely perfect and you and that worthless drunk, you ruined everything!”

“Did they hurt you?” Haymitch asked.

“No, I’m OK,” Effie said but the words were almost immediately contradicted by a small intake of breath. She placed her hand against her stomach.

“What is it?” Haymitch asked in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Effie rubbed her belly in soothing circles and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Just a kick.”

Haymitch’s face was marred in concern.

“Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

“No, no, Haymitch. It’s fine. They’re responding to my heartbeat is all.” “That damn woman,” he said. “I should just...” Effie rested her hand against his arm.

“She didn’t do anything, really. We’re OK.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you back.”

A few moments later the cab rolled up outside June's and Annabel's house with the apple tree out front.

Effie may say she was perfectly fine but she leaned heavily on to his arm as he helped her inside.

“You really OK?”

“A little tired,” she confessed.

Yeah. Join the club.

“Perhaps you should try and get some rest. After what happened and… everything.” He made a vague gesture toward her stomach.

Effie nodded.

“Yes, it’s... maybe that’s a good idea.”

She let go of his arm. Yet before she could turn a corner her feet slowed to a stop. She looked back and Haymitch knew what was on her mind without her having to say it.

“Don’t worry, Eff,” he muttered. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Alone again, he walked in to the living room. No one there but the lizard in the tank. It fluffed its spiky beard at him but when Haymitch didn’t flail or yell this time it just returned to it’s sunny tree root.

He sank down on to the couch. He’d never felt more exhausted in his entire life and that was saying something.

It took him a moment to realized he was still holding Effie’s bag. It was light as air and sported a logo of a needle and a scissor crossed together.

I’m not gonna look.

He dropped it on the couch next to him but just as he’d decided he didn’t want to see it, definitely not, he pulled it toward him again and slipped his hand inside.

His fingertips brushed against something soft. Kitten soft, just like Scotch when he was little. The bag floated silently on to the floor.

He was looking down at a pair of playsuits. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Little clown outfits maybe with sequins and bells and all that jazz.

He caressed the fabric between his fingertips and just felt like breaking into sobs like a sissy.

One of them had the same pale blue color as the sky on a warm summer day in Twelve. The other was pink, just like those little flowers inlaid in Effie’s tea cups.

One blue and one pink. Simple and soft and so unbelievably small.

Holding on to them he dragged himself up. There was a phone built into the wall. Some fancy version that reminded him of those mouthpiece thingies you ordered food from at the penthouse.

“Haymitch”, Peeta answered at the sound of his voice. “I was hoping you’d call. You’re at Effie’s?”

“Sort of,” he murmured. “Look I, I need you to send me some things. Clothes and stuff.”

“Sure. We’ll do that. How long will you stay?”

“I don’t know. Check on the geese for me, OK?”

“Of course,” Peeta said. “Everything alright?”

Looking down on the playsuits in his hand, Haymitch rubbed the space between his eyebrows like warding off a headache.

“Haymitch?”

He drew a silent breath.

“No.”

Once the phone disconnected he heard the sound of footsteps, expecting Effie but it was the brunette. Flickerman’s daughter. Annabel.

She was taller than Caesar but the resemblance was still striking. Same cheekbones, same elegantly arched eyebrows over a pair of brown eyes.

But these were eyes that lacked the vain and foolishness her father had in spades. He recalled yesterday’s catastrophe of an entrance, when she stopped him from chewing out Effie and thought maybe, just maybe here was someone he could trust.

“Look, ‘ bout earlier,” he muttered. “I’m sorry for...”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“How long’s she lived with you?”

“A couple of months,” she said. “We weren’t in town but we heard rumors and took the train back. Mr. Abernathy,” she hesitated. “Effie is welcome here for as long as she needs to stay. The same goes for you, until you two have descided what the plan it.”

“I already know what the plan is,” Haymitch said. “I just don’t get it. Having kids out of wedlock doesn’t cause this much of a flip in the Capitol. Why’s her whole life falling apart?”

But as soon as he said it he already knew the answer. Something he should have realized from the start.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it? Because they’re mine.”

[asunfloweraday]

Things that help me survive

Not too long ago, or well years ago actually (but I updated it for the present time) I devised a list called ‘things that make me happy.’ We were in the midst of lockdown, I was living in Sydney on my own in a very small studio apartment and my mental state started to deteriorate very quickly. 

Due to a series of, or perhaps one big unfortunate event things have gone from bad to worse for me and I have felt the need to create a new list; things that have helped me to survive. When you’re in the midst of a depressed state often the things that usually give you pleasure do not. So these are things, not necessarily that I have loved doing, but I can honestly attribute to why I am still standing here today. 

Take what resonates, hopefully this helps someone.

Mindfulness; I have an app called ‘Mindfulness: finding peace in a frantic world’ and I play it anytime my mind feels totally cluttered. Achieving even one second of thinking about nothing at all besides my breath and an awareness of my body is like hitting the re-start button on my brain. I genuinely feel refreshed afterwards. The challenge is to totally empty your mind of all other thoughts and limit how often your mind wanders which sounds impossible and it mostly is, but as I said, if you can manage to do this for even 1 second, trust me you’ll feel better. 

Prayer. This one isn’t for everyone but I have personally found a lot of peace in handing over all my worries in times of distress to a higher being. Even just sitting in a church and reminding myself that I’m not alone, that there is some greater purpose in all this even if I can’t see it. Choosing to have faith in that and really believing it. 

Exercise. This one’s tough. I went to Pilates for the first time after spending 3 months barely leaving the house. I cancelled and rescheduled many times but I finally made myself go and dam I feel so much better. I went to the beginners class, I told the instructor it was my first time in a long time and she was so kind and I felt no pressure to do all the exercises but I did at least attempt them. My advice is find something, anything that works for you that you actually enjoy and then you will feel more motivated to go. But be kind to yourself. If all you can manage is a 10 minute walk to the end of your street and back, honestly just do that.

Writing it down. I lost the person I was closest to in the whole world and found myself having absolutely no one I could pour out my soul to anymore. I had to learn very quickly how to be there for myself emotionally or I would crumble. I found writing everything I wanted to say down helped me feel as though I had released it somewhere rather than getting all stuck up in my head. It has been a temporary solution until I learn how to open up more to other people but it has certainly helped in the interim. 

Sun. This one is not always available and probably less so if you’re in the northern hemisphere right now but I know that I feel 1000% better when I literally just go and stand outside and allow myself to feel that warmth hit my skin. Someone told me once that when you breathe in air outdoors, your body takes in the photons from the sun. Never bothered to look that one up but I certainly do feel better when I take some fresh air into my lungs.. leading to the next.

Breathing. This one seems like a no brainer, but I recently went to have a remedial massage in the hope of curing my migraines and this beautiful man told me that as a trauma response my body is in a constant state of fight or flight. Therefore, I am shallow breathing as a result and not allowing myself to breathe out all the toxins in my body. Wow, who would have known. So I now attempt to catch myself anytime I remember and take some deep breaths and let all the air out. I push it all out until there is nothing left at all left. Magically enough, I am feeling far less tension in my neck and less frequent headaches from doing this. I haven’t had another migraine yet but I’ll keep you posted on that one. 

Friends. For a long time, in the midst of my depressed state I truly felt like I had no one and maybe sometimes that is the case. But I know that I realised once I stopped cancelling plans, and attempting to reach out myself, that I have more people in my life than I think and that these people actually like me. Even just the act of making an ‘appointment’ with someone, a time and a place I need to be has helped give me some kind of structure in my day. You’ll also surprise yourself with the people who will be there for you when you are honest about what you’re going through. If not, hang in there you will find your tribe eventually.

Music. Last but not least. I recently invested in some noise cancelling headphones and I have found that lying in bed with these bad boys on, with just a good dam song blasting my eardrums off allows me to calm down into a more manageable state of mind. Even just finding and connecting to a song that perfectly sums up what you’re going through will help you feel less alone. 

Hopefully this has been of some help. Remember to be kind to yourself always and don’t ever hesitate to reach out to me if you find yourself in a dark corner. I have been there and am so willing to help.

[szopenhauer]

If someone has bad breath, do you tell him or her? doubtful, I don’t wanna hurt anyone, it’s awkward and a lot of ppl can’t change how they smell

Do you have an item that comforts you when you are sad/scared? used to have one special object, I still hold it sometimes, I suppose I might again at night from Friday to Saturday 

When are you likely to hide your emotions? when I’m face to face with an authority figure like boss, teacher or doctor, policeman too but I never been in a situation like this with them, I also hide my emotions from abusers at times to not show I’m afraid of them and to not provoke them more as well

Which is scarier: Dying of thirst or of starvation? I guess starvation as it takes longer

Have you ever tried to help someone quit smoking? it’s their decision to smoke, I don’t approve but I won’t get involved, I can only avoid them

Have you ever had to talk anyone out of suicide? self harm more likely, I mean... I was talking with suicidal people about them wanting to kill themselves but never at the moment when they were doing it so I don’t know if that counts

When you think of tomorrow, what feelings come to mind? packing, last day with my parents before I go to the hospital

What is the last thing you complained about? probably health related issues

What was the last curse-word you said? kurwa

When you fake sick to get out of school, what do you say or do to convince your parents that you are sick? I don’t fake sick, I might exaggerate but I won’t lie, I don’t want to worry my parents and because I’m chronicall ill I often was going to school even though I didn’t felt like it

Do you still talk to your very first best friend? no

When was the last time something went terribly wrong? basically everything goes wrong

How do you console someone when he or she is upset? depends

Choose one: Trip to outerspace, or trip underneath the oceans? no thx

How often do you feel overwhelmed? all the damn time

How do you deal with everyday life? poorly 

Who in your family do you act like the most? my dad

What is the most romantically sweet thing someone has done for you? my gf is doing many sweet things 

Have you ever been confronted by a mall cop for your behavior? I’ve never been confronted by the store guard - elseway I would never go back there out of anxiety

Is there someone that makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells? my mom

Were you ever afraid of one of your past teachers? sorta XD

Have you ever been in a physical fight on school grounds? I was attacked but I didn’t fight back so...

A homeless man asks you for 50 cents; how do you respond? dunno

When was the last time you visited a thrift store? recently

Can you handle constructive criticism? I can’t handle any criticism :(

Who is the most sensitive person that you know? me?...

When was the last time you wrote someone a note? few days ago

Do you tell your parents before you go somewhere, or just leave? I always tell

What was the last thing you tried to get out of doing? not sure what was last hmm...

Which season do you dread the most? winter

Is there a foreign culture you’d like to learn more about? maybe

Have you ever seen a famous painting and thought “I could have done that?” abstract art

What is the scariest thing about attending your school? which one?

Are you a good judge of other people’s intentions? I got better with time 

Shopping: best with friends, parents, bf/gf, or alone? depends

When was the last time someone told you to turn your music down? my mother sometimes asks me to because she has migraines

When you don’t know how to spell a word, do you look it up? not always *ashamed*

Are you one to spend a lot of time in the bathroom? nope but I’m the one that often goes to the bathroom 

Do you ever consider the challenges other races go through? sure

When was the last time you doubted your abilities? I have... abilities? :o

What was the last thing you wished for? health... not gonna happen tho :(

How many times a day, on average, do you look at the time? several, when I wake up then when I eat and between meals and then when I go to sleep and in the middle of the night if I go to pee

Where do you first remember living? I never moved

First fandom? woah I don’t remember 

First otp/ship? neither

How old were you when you first when on a plane? -

What was your first tattoo?  -

Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? show - She-ra, movie - A lot like love

Did you lose your virginity before you were sixteen? nooo

How many purses do you own? too many lol Are you bi? am not Who was your prom date? I never had one, I didn’t go to prom

Who was the last person to see you cry? parent[s]

Have you ever been used? yep

Do you like when girl takes you by surprise and kisses you? I like consent but... those were the best kisses ^^’’

Have you ever gone for someone despite knowing they were bad for you? I didn’t think about the future nor that I deserve love What kind of gift can win you over? what do you mean by WIN ME OVER? Are diamonds really a girls best friend? not mine, I don’t care for diamonds 

Have you ever dated someone with a child? no way  Have you ever dated someone shorter than you? Sarah was shorter

Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? my parents and my current partner

What sound is annoying you right now? it’s quiet :3

What gives you a peaceful feeling? sleep?

Would you rather live in the city, suburbs or the country? country

Are you more of a maker and giver, or a taker and user? taker and user I suppose

Do you buy holiday gifts early or at the last minute? early

If someone else were to describe you what would you hope they would say? the truth

Do you think it is harder for a parent to outlive their child or for the child to outlive their parent? parent to outlive the child because it’s not common

When do you do your best thinking? evening/night

What was a choice that you didn’t want to make but you had to? majority of decisions are smth I’d prefer not to make

What age do you think it is most difficult to be? to each their own

Do you think you could handle a day in jail? who knows

Have you ever been on a trampoline? I have not

Do you pretend to be something you’re not to make friends? I’m being myself and that’s why I’m friendless :P

Are you more of a shy or outgoing person? I’m introverted antisocial and a loner but I’m not shy, I can be loud and talkative

Are you more of an athlete or artist? artist Are you the type to procrastinate? I put PRO in procrastination  Do you believe that you’ll always be a kid at heart? ;) What is something you want to improve on this year? health, I’m trying  How many times a day do you get angry? uh oh... If you could eat any food you want right now, what would it be? personal Can you sleep with your eyes open? I’m no Gandalf

Do you still have any living grandparents? If so, how old are they? I don’t wanna talk about that

What’s your favorite computer game genre? simulations Do you have any exes your parents never liked? pfft Do you ever keep things just because they might be useful someday? we are hoarders

Are you frequently in a bad mood? sorry... Do you ever fill out surveys while in a bad mood? I go through soooo many moods before I finish one survey  Are you a fast or a slow eater? slowest among my friends, fastest in my house  How old were you when you had your first relationship? no idea what I should call a relationship and what not  Do you get dental checkups at least once a year? yup Is there anyone in your family/household whom you frequently argue with? mom, sister before she moved out Have you ever used chewing tobacco? tha hell? that’s disgusting!

Do you play Pokemon Go? If so, what level are you and who’s your buddy? not applicable Do you ever sit indoors and wear sunglasses or a hat? hat Are you putting off doing something right now? If so, what is it? drying my hair, drinking water and going to sleep mostly

Are you like me and hoard notebooks and pens? pens now, I stopped buying notebooks... oh wait... no... I just got one because I wanted to save bees, nvm... Are you sitting in front of or by a window? What can you see out there? by, it’s dark but there’s my neighbor’s house Are there any coasters on your table? If so, do they have text or pictures? flowers Do you have a song playing in your head right now, too? not really Don’t you hate it when people answer to surveys with one word answers? lame *I realized I did that myself *facepalm* Ever watched a cat or a dog sleep and run/twitch in their sleep? adorable <3 What’s something we do every day but they don’t depict in movies? it bothers me that in fantasy/sci-fi movies there are no toilets and meals are rare

Is your style feminine, masculine or somewhere in the middle? in the middle, childish yet of an old person haha Do you usually carry a backpack, a shoulder bag or something else? shoulder bag or tote  Do you wear glasses? If so, have you ever tried to fix them when they’ve broken? helped my dad fix his glasses couple of times Are there a lot of dragonflies around your house? they don’t show up frequently

[clevernewdimension]

Right (M)

Jongin usually runs away for the Purge. Flies out of the country and doesn’t look back while sipping some tropical drink on a beach in paradise. This year, however, he forgets. Too busy getting lost in passion to notice. Thankfully, he’s made some friends in good places and has someone who can protect him. What happens when he’s forced to act, forced to participate in a day he wishes would just disappear?

Genre: Action, gore, torture and smut.

Word count: 9K

A/N: Trigger warnings for gore, blood, death, and torture. I’m pretty sure you guys know how awful this series is by now.

Kim Jongin, co-CEO, owner and one of the founders of Park and Kim Electronics, has a secret. This secret is fairly well hidden and no one knows about it except Chanyeol, Yixing and Yixing’s sugar baby turned girlfriend. He smiled, in the VIP area of a club his friend Yixing owns. The Chinese man sitting there, his girl right by him, sipping on her drink. Yixing smiled, looking down at the pile of powder between them. It was a light purple color, Jongin knew well despite the neon lights and flashing dance floor beneath them.

The drug was what is known as ‘Succubus Nectar’. It gives a person energy to fuck over and over, no stopping all night long. It has some psychedelic effects, but those don’t last long, so most people who want that also take LSD or mushrooms with it, but Jongin didn’t care about those effects.

Jongin is sort of a sex addict. Has been for a long time. There is a connection, a sense of false care you get when you get intimate with someone that Jongin can’t help but need. He had no family. He was alone in the world, and he guesses he is looking for someone who cares in what many would call is all the wrong places. Since his first time he found himself wanting sex more and more. College was fun, the large orgies they would have was some of the best days in his life. Men, women, it didn’t matter so long as he got to stick his dick in something or have someone fuck him to make him feel that sense that someone was there for him.

Truth is, though, it was just a distraction so he didn’t have to actually feel those hard feelings. Easier to just push them away and sweep them under something like being a sex addict than to actually face the consequences to looking deeply at himself.

It didn’t take long for him to find some sort of bill, roll it up and use a credit card to make a line of dust. Sucking through his nose, the hit was instant. Some people would inject it after melting it into a liquid, but that took too long. The feel when inhaled was instant. It made him moan, his body shivering as all the colors seem to get brighter. The neon lights around them almost blinding as he just smiles. He could feel the lust growing as he looked around, trying to see someone or multiple people to lose himself in.

He was about to leave until he watches as a woman move next to them. She smirked, looking him up and down a moment. She leans in, snorting a line herself. A friend of Yixing, a tattoo indicating her being a member of his gang. She wore a tube black dress and a pair of black heels. Clearly she was here to have some fun and not work. Her hair was down, a deep wine like red, very obviously dyed. She had quite a few tattoos, and a septum piercing that was a dainty little loop of gold. He watched her inhale the drug, seeing the effects work on her. The second she took a breath, a shaky moan left her that made Jongin feel even more desperate. She glanced at Jongin, her brown eyes wide and searching desperately.

Yixing smiles, “Well, if you’re both going to fuck, give us a show.” He says, leaning back and sipping from his whiskey glass. The woman beside him, his wife, just smiles too, watching with interest. Jongin heard a rumor about how they liked to watch people. Looks like it was true after all, and Jongin did love letting people indulge in their kinks.

She moves, pulling Jongin in with a smirk, pressing her lips to his, tongue licking his lips before he follows, kissing her like his life depended on it. She pulled him, turning so he was sitting on the cushioned bench, before straddling him, pulling her dress up over her hips. She pulled at Jongin’s dress shirt, ripping it open and letting her fingers flow down his abs. This wasn’t his usual go to kind of woman. He usually prefers them to be cute and shy, not tatted, pierced and badass. He was stunned for a moment, the feeling of her grinding on him making him lose his mind momentarily. Jongin’s hands go to the top of her dress, pulling it down and quickly removing her strapless bra. For some reason her being so different to any other woman he’s been with was a huge turn on, be it drug fueled or not. Words couldn’t describe how utterly hard it made him to see more tattoos on her ribs or that her nipples were pierced. She was a wild one, and he knew she was give him one hell of a night. His lips went to her neck, biting harshly as she moaned in his ear.

He could vaguely hear cheers, people watching them. The drug making him not even care if other people were seeing this. Her hands worked the belt open, before trying to get his cock out from his pants. Jongin’s fingers slide between her legs, feeling a lack of underwear and how drenched she was. An effect of the drug, but he’d like to think he played a part in that too.

She didn’t even wait for a condom before sinking down on his cock, moaning and arching back. “Fuck,” she mutters, shivering as she clawed at his back. Jongin’s teeth bit into the side of her breast, making her yell in pain before he slaps her ass. “Move already,” He growls, desperate for more. He wanted that friction, that dizzying feeling.

She lifted herself up, slamming back down with a whine. Jongin could vaguely hear Yixing mutter something as he glances, seeing his friend watching intently. The music that was blasting changed, as the woman riding him decided go move along with the pace. Fast and unrelenting. Jongin was amazed, his hands gripping her ass, helping her move and doing what he can to help create their rhythm. The bright colors swimming, making the woman on him look like an angel from heaven even though she, to everyone else, probably looked more like a demon from hell.

Well, Hell is for sinners, and usually they know how to have a better time, after all. At least, that’s how he was rationalizing this to himself.

The drug made everything more sensitive, meaning orgasms were fast and frequent. People wanting to have kids will sometimes uses some SN to make sure they get pregnant. Jongin could feel him nearing his first orgasm of the night. His finger went to her clit, sending her over quickly as he feels himself cum within her. He was groaning, feeling like the pleasure was strangling him.

“More,” She moaned, her back arches as she clawed out to grab onto his body. The sound of her begging him added to the thrill. “Fuck me more,” She yells over the music, and Jongin smiles.

That’s all he wanted. To be wanted, to feel like he was alluring and seductive. He pushes her to the side, watching her get on her hands and knees before he smiles, thrusting back in and hearing her scream out. He found exactly what he wanted and boy, he’s going to enjoy the night. Teeth sinking into her neck, her screaming in his ear, it was everything he could have wanted.

He didn’t remember leaving the club with her. All he knew was that they were at her place, headboard hitting the wall and keeping all her neighbors up all through the night. SN fueled fun was the best kind of fun, Jongin vaguely thinks before his eyes started to close with the early morning light.

My eyes flutter open, glancing to the window and seeing the light starting to fade and the sun going down, I groaned, frowning and looking at myself. I was nude, an arm wrapped around my waist as I look over, seeing a sleeping man. I close my eyes, trying to think back.

I took some SN, and… oh, right, or course. That’s what always happens when you take that. The throat a bit sore from a multitude of things as I stretch as much as I could.

I glance over, seeing a handsome face. At least I have good taste when I’m horny out of my mind. His hair was brown, looking soft as he started to groan. His eyes open, showing me his brown eyes before he just closes his eyes. Succubuses Nectar had a side effect of migraines sometimes. He turns, moving so he was lying on his back, showing of a toned pack of abs. He looks over, “Um… I’m Jongin.”

“I know,” I say, smiling, “I… uh… see you on the news a lot. I’m Y/N.”

“I probably should have asked your name first,” He says, his face becoming flushed.

“Well, I didn’t ask either,” I shrugged, moving towards the master bathroom. “My shower is really small, so if you want to take one, you’ll have to wait in line.”

“Oh,” He says, nodding. “Sure. Do you have a phone charger? I’m pretty sure mine is dead.”

I point at my bedside table, my cell on the wireless charger. I move into my bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Turning on the water to let it heat up, I think back to last night, and the hours of wild sex I just had. Not something I do often, and it was my first time actually trying SN. I look at myself over the mirror, seeing my neck covered in hickeys and bruises all over. The ‘Loyalty’ tattoo right above my right collar bone. On my left forearm was roses, red and looking as if they were made of metal. On my right wrist there are tally markers. One for everyone I have on my shit list that I’ve gotten revenge on. I had the gang related tattoo on my other arm, and flowers on both sides of my ribs. Tulips for my mother on one, sweet peas on the other for my sister. I frown, seeing what can only be dried semen on my arm as I just frown before turning and getting in the shower.

It didn’t take long until I was getting out and going to my room. I see Jongin there, looking up to me. I hold the tower closer, “Showers yours. Try not to use all my shampoo.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He says, hopping out of bed. He gathers his clothes as I look at him. He passes and I see the scratches, bruises and cuts I left on him. I apparently give as good as I get. I hear the shower cut on as I start to remove my piercings in preparation for tonight. I set them on the little dish on my dresser, looking at myself now that I no longer had them in. It was weird. I look at my right eyebrow, seeing the scar where the piercing up there was ripped out two Purges ago. Absolutely don’t want that to me my nose or my nips. That would fucking suck.

I pull on a tank top, some black leggings and a jacket. I braided my hair in order to keep it out the way. I pause for a moment, looking over my phone. Apparently sometime last night we decided to shoot some pics and videos. I smile, looking as I see a video of him between my legs, looking like he was having the time of his life. I see some texts from my sister too, one with all caps asking why I would send that to her.

I laugh, quickly texting her that those were meant to tease Yixing.

‘Junmyeon was so confused when he saw that on my phone! He probably thinks I’m a perv and that we’re just really weird now!’

‘Chill. He knows I’m a godless degenerate slut AND he knows how Yixing and his bae are. He’ll understand. I know this relationship is really new for you, but trust me when I say I’m about a billion percent certain that he’s in it for the long haul with you, kiddo.’

‘How would he know you’re a godless degenerate… word?’

‘Well, I’m sure Sehun and his soon to be bride has told him the stories of the three of us together. That and I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost everyone in the gang AND all his friends. Congrats, sis, you got the one man who turned me down.’

‘But that doesn’t make you one of those. This isn’t the 1700s. You’re just having fun. Safely, I hope.’

‘Well, you know I don’t have to worry.’

‘STIs still exist, dummy!’

I laugh, seeing her call me dummy. God, she’s so innocent it’s amazing. I quickly text her that I have to get ready and that I’ll see her tomorrow. Setting the phone down before getting back to business. After all, tonight I was needed to do whatever Yixing wanted of us. I get my handgun from my sock drawer, loading the magazine in and attaching the holster to my leg that had a place for my knife as well. A pair of combat boots and I was ready.

Jongin comes out of the shower, in his clothes. I see his face flushed, his eyes kind of avoiding me. He checks his phone, “So about the… um… lack of a condom-”

“It’s fine,” I say, looking at him. “I’m infertile. Can’t get pregnant.”

“Oh,” He says, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m… sorry.”

“Well,” I say, “That’s what happens when a hospital likes to test on humans. Some sort of birth control gone wrong. It’s fine, though, because it means I can go out and find hot strangers and have wild, drug fueled fucking and not worry.” I smile, giving him a wink. “That sounds like way more fun than ever having children.”

He looks up at me, nodding, “Yeah… not sure if I ever want children, either.”

“Well, Jongin,” I say, smirking. “If you ever want an encore, just come find me,” I say, winking.

“What were you laughing about,” He asks, “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“My sister,” I say, looking at my phone. “She’s such a good girl it’s amazing. If we didn’t look identical, people would never believe we are siblings.”

“Twins,” He asks.

I nod, “But I love her. Even if we’re the complete opposite.” I glance over, “What about you, any siblings?”

“None left,” He mutters, shrugging. “I had two sisters. Both died in a plane crash when I was ten.”

“Fuck,” I say, frowning, “That's awful. My condolences.”

He smiles sadly, opening his mouth to say something before the siren goes off. Instantly I see his face go completely pale. Jongin’s eyes wide as he suddenly looks sick. He looks at me, “It’s Purge night?!”

I nod, “Yes? Doesn’t everyone know that?”

“Can I borrow your phone,” He asks, looking at me, eyes wide.

I just nod, shrugging.

He moves, getting my phone and dialing a number. “Yixing,” He practically yells, making me wince. I roll my eyes, moving out to the kitchen. I grab and apple and moving to get a bottle of cold brew coffee from the fridge. I could hear Jongin freaking out as I just laugh quietly to myself, taking a bite of the apple. I was done with half of it before Jongin came over to me, holding the phone. I take it, smiling as I say, “Hello, Boss.”

“I’m going to need you to protect Jongin,” He says. “I know you hate babysitting duty, but he’s a friend. A very good friend. Normally he would be out of the country, but he’s an idiot.”

I frown, groaning, “Really?”

“I know,” He says, “But Jongin is willing to pay you. In anyway. You just have to get him to one of our unused safe houses.”

“The closest one is the other side of town,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Our closest arsenal to me, you’re there for tonight? I’m going to go and get some more supplies, then.”

“See you soon,” Yixing says before I hang up on him. I toss the rest of the apple away. I quickly down the coffee, looking at him. “We’re walking a few blocks to a supply house. My motorcycle is there, and we’ll get you something to defend yourself with should the need arise.” I look at Jongin, seeing the marks I left all over his skin, smirking from the memories. “We’re setting some rules.”

He nods, looking at me intently.

“Listen to me. Don’t go off on your own. If someone kills me, run. You know where a lot of our safe houses are, go there if something happens to me,” I say, looking at him. “Get dressed, we gotta head out.”

He moves quickly as I move towards the door. He was there and dressed in a flash, as I hand him a large, black jacket. He takes it, pulling it on as I open the door. The second it opens, see an Ax coming down at us. I grab it, holding it steadily with one arm before grabbing my knife and stabbing it into the throat of the woman holding it. The sound of her choking on her own blood was something I was used to, before I look back and see Jongin looking pale. A small cut on his face from the very edge of the Ax blade hitting him.

“When this is done,” I say, “I want the best gaming computer setup your company can make.”

Jongin just glances at me, almost looking like he was going to vomit. “Deal.”

We get to the elevator easily, going down to the ground floor. I could hear crying and screaming even though the doors. The door opens and I see a huge fight happening in the lobby of the place. I get my gon, holding it and turning the safety off, before grabbing Jongin’s arm.

The group fighting looks at me as I hold the gun out. They all have simple weapons, the blood seeping into the carpet already. Three men on one side, two on the other. One with a deep cut on his chest already.

I hold Jongin and drag him out the entrance with me.

When we’re outside, I hear the scuffle begin again behind us. Jongin lets out a shaky breath, “Fuck me,” He mutters quietly.

“Maybe after all this,” I say with a smirk.

The road wasn't a madhouse here. We were close to the Death Carnival, people usually go there, but there are some crazy people around here. I pull the man along with me, keeping an eye out. Jongin seemed like a scared little rabbit at every little noise. It was amusing and quite cute, honestly. We walked past a store who’s window was busted open, people taking jewelry and shoving them in their pockets, the ringing alarm alerting every close by. I held my gun, my finger ready to pull the trigger at any moment. I turn down an alley, pulling Jongin close to me as I glance. Blood. A lot of it.

I could hear a man begging for help as I see him crawling out an alley that connected to ours. I pull Jongin to hide behind an electrical box, looking over and watching closely. I see a small child walk over, a spoon in hand as he looked back down the alley.

“Mommy, it’s still moving,” He whines.

I see a woman walk out, holding the man and turning him over. “It’s ok Darling, you did so good. You can have the eyes for being such a good boy.”

“Yay,” The boy says, smiling as I watch him dig the spoon into the eye socket as the mother holds the man’s skull still. The kid quickly brings it to his mouth, biting down on the eye as the man is screaming in agony.

“Come on,” I say, holding my gun up and pulling him behind me.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Jongin says quietly, following my lead.

As we walk forward, I kept my gun aimed at the mother. She looked over, hearing out steps, the knife she let go of quickly in her hand again.

“Don’t start anything and we’ll leave you two to your meal,” I say, commanding them to stay still practically.

“We’re not sharing,” She says, nodding her head to the side. “Leave. Or your eyes are next.”

“I’d hate to have to shoot you in front of your kid, but I will,” I say, putting my finger on the trigger. “Crime stops for you tomorrow, but not for me. Hurt us and I will hunt you down. I have no problem making him watch you suffer and beg for your life.”

She holds her hands up, as if to signify her giving in. As we walk around her, I felt my front facing them as I walk down the alley. As soon as she starts dragging the body of the screaming man back where they came from, I turn, quickly continuing.

Jongin looks ready to puke everything in his stomach up when we stop to give him a minute to collect himself. He leans against the wall, breathing heavily as I look, seeing racing cars passing by the road we have to cross. I see him, taking a deep breath.

“Just across the road is the arsenal. When we get there, the drive to the safe house shouldn’t take long,” I say, checking my gun. “Perks of not having to follow road laws. The side of town we’re going to is the Death Carnaval. If we can just get there, it’s pretty much deserted.” I peek from the alley, seeing no one in the road but what looks like some drunken couple getting frisky with a few dead bodies around them. I look at him seeing him finally looking at me. “Can you shoot a gun?”

“No,” Jongin says, eyes wide. “Why would I ever need to?”

“Well, you better aim well if something happens to me,” I say. “You never know on tonight of all nights. Now come on. Don’t stay too far from me.”

I leave the alley, Jongin in tow as we silently creep by the two killers covering themselves in blood. It was simple, as they are distracted. Jongin follows me quickly as we get to the small warehouse. I knock on the door, seeing a small window open in it.

The door is thrown open as I smile, seeing Yixing. “I thought you would be home with your Fiancee,” I say, moving past him.

“Well I would be if some idiots didn’t lose a thirty million dollars worth of Succubuse’s Nectar,” Yixing says, glaring at a new no names.

“Good luck finding it,” I say, looking and seeing the room stocked with any weapon imaginable. I get a rifle, strapping it to my side before getting a small handgun and a knife for Jongin.

“Safety is on the side, turn it off before you mean to shoot. Once you do, aim well and try not to hit me or else I’ll fucking kill you,” I say, giving it.

He takes it, placing it in behind him so his belt will hold it up. The knife he put in his jeans pocket.

I look at Yixing, “Sweet Pea-”

“We have people close to the clinic,” Yixing says calmly. “Your sister is there. Helping Junmyeon. If it makes you feel better, Kyungsoo is there. Already did one job for the evening.”

I nod, feeling calmer. That’s great news. Sehun and Miss. Badass sniper along with Kyungsoo? Probably the best security you can find. She’ll probably be happy to be able to help someone. Especially Junmyeon, as she knows how hard this time is for him. It sucks, seeing how sad and just… empty my likely future brother-in-law gets. The people he helps are good people. Innocent people.

Not people like me.

“Come on,” I say, moving to the front of the warehouse. “I don’t want to have to be outside all night with you following me like a little duckling.”

Another person who’s name I didn’t know opened the garage. The large doors open as I see my black motorcycle out there. I take the helmet, throwing him the spare. “Can you drive?”

“Yeah,” He says.

“Head towards the North side of town, close to the Death Carnival and I’ll instruct you where to go from there,” I say. “I’m a better gunnar, so I’ll shoot if someone dares come too close.”

He nods, starting up after putting a helmet on. I put mine on, quickly getting on after him.

We were off, Jongin driving the motorcycle like he has experience with them. I keep my eyes on the lookout, watching and seeing all the people we pass by. Jongin was a great diver, actually, easily avoiding everyone. The death and carnage around is a sight Jongin may not have been used to, but I see it all the time.

I could hear the cheers from the Death Carnival there. Some Purge nights if Yixing doesn’t have me doing anything I end up there, cheering and fucking my brains out. Never drinking or doing drugs, though. Not on Purge night. I could see the lights from there, as it was clear someone probably just won or are celebrating the win. Purple and pink lights changing with the electronic music means the fights are over.

What we couldn’t plan for was a near invisible spike strip. The tires popped as Jongin and I are both sent to the ground. I feel my skin being scraped, but it wasn’t too bad as he wasn’t going too fast as he was turning. I feel my ankle burn like it was on fire. I ignore it, quickly getting my helmet off and holding my gun up. Jongin looks better than I did, a few scrapes on his hand as he quickly took his helmet off as well. His jacket and jeans taking most of the brunt of the fall.

I feel a gun to the back of my head, “Drop it.”

I let out a small huff, setting it on the ground after taking the strap off from around me. Jongin looked at me, the gun I gave him hidden by his jacket on his side. I mouth the word wait to him, before I feel the person behind me pull me up. The second I put weight on my ankle I hiss in pain. “Oh dear,” The man says. I could hear the smile in his voice, “This will certainly make things interesting.” He turns me around, “No funny business. My wife is in the window with a scope right on your friend there,” He says, nodding his head towards Jongin. “Either of you make a move, you’re dead. Hands behind you.”

I glare, seeing him. His head completely shaved with a goatee that was getting peppered with grey. He was tall, a bit buff but not overly imposing. I put my hands behind me. He pulls on my jacket, yanking it off quickly. I glare at the person in the window, feeling as he cuffs my hands together. He looks at Jongin. “You can follow me,” He says, “Be quick, my wife hates people who dawdle behind.”

The man pulls me along, my ankle feeling on fire from pain as I just curse under my breath from it. We’re pulled into the building, and up an elevator until we’re in this industrial looking studio apartment. I see a woman, a rifle on the counter behind her and a gun pointed in our direction. Her hair in a high ponytail. It was long and bleached blonde. Her lips painted a dark red, eye makeup perfect as she was looking between Jongin and I. She had on a short skirt, large heels as she steps forward. She smiles, “Wonderful catch, darling. Prep her, will you?”

“What are you doing with her,” Jongin asked, starting to reach for his gun. The man pulling me with him as I hissed in pain from my foot.

The wife presses hers into his back, “Not so fast, lover boy. She’ll be fine as long as you can last. Your weapons. Take them and give them to me or I’ll shoot her dead right now.”

Jongin huffs, quickly handing over his gun and knife, not willing to gamble with my life.

“Come here,” The man says, “Lift her up.”

I look seeing him carry something and placing it below me. I couldn’t see what it was but I then see him walk behind us. Jongin looks up, and I look down at him. I try to convey that it’ll be ok, but even I’m not sure at this point. For all we know they could be lying about letting us go.

I feel something get placed around my neck, before some footsteps to the side.

“Let go of her,” The wife says.

Jongin steps away and I feel the, what I assume is rope tighten. My neck feeling like it was going to snap having to hold my entire body weight. I struggle, unable to breath as I get lowered. I point my toes, trying to find solid ground. They touch, barely, but it was slippery. My feet barely touching whatever I was standing on. The pressure on my throat was still there, like if I wasn’t on my tip toes I was going to be hanging again.

“What the fuck,” Jongin says, looking at me with wide eyes. He looked worried. Angry.

“You both can leave her alive if you follow our instructions perfectly,” The wife says. She smirks, “She’ll probably be missing a finger or something but that’s a fair price your letting you live.”

“What the fuck do you want,” I say, glaring at her.

“My dear husband and I… well, you see, we get off to this,” She says, smiling, “Torture. But we’re good people, so we wait until today like one should!” She shakes her head, “Shame we can’t do this every day, hm, my love?” She looks at Jongin, “Now, she will not die so long as you listen to us, is that clear.”

Jongin glares, nodding.

“Yes Mistress,” She says, glaring. “That’s the response I expect. Am I clear?”

“Yes Mistress,” He says, practically spitting the words out.

“Here’s how this works,” She says, “You do what we say to her. If you don’t want to, then you have to take a punishment for disobeying.”

My ankle was hurting so bad I had tears in my eyes. I tried to think of something, any way out of this, but so far, nothing.

“Oh dear, looks like she hurt her leg,” the woman says, “Best listen to us to get this over with quickly.” She looks at Jongin, “Wouldn’t want her to slip and hang herself. Take off your shirt.”

I see Jongin quickly take his shirt off, the kind guy I’ve come to know giving her a stink eye. I suppose even the nicest of people will get angry in the face of situations like this. I could see the scratches on his back from me last night and early this morning. She whistles, “Damn. Looks like you two fucked like rabbits.” She tosses him a knife, “Pick it up and cut her.”

“No,” Jongin says immediately, glaring at her.

“Do you want your girlfriend here to hang,” She asks, glaring at Jongin. “If you don’t do it, we will. And we’ll make it worse.”

“It’s ok,” I say, “Just do it.”

Jongin looks at me, eyes wide. He picks up the knife, walking forward, “I’m sorry,” He mutters to me quietly as he lifts my shirt.

I feel a small cut on my stomach, deeper than a paper cut but not enough to do real damage. I bite my lip, holding back the hiss of pain.

“That’s it,” She says, “Look at how beautiful it is. That shade of red. Cut the front of her shirt.” Her eyes looked at her husband, “Honey, cut the back so we can have a better canvas, hm?”

Jongin looked like he was getting angrier and angrier. I nod, before he quickly cuts the front of my shirt in half. I feel a knife at my back, doing the same before the two sides of the shirt were pulled down my arms and hanging from the chain of the handcuffs.

“Look at those tattoos,” The woman says, smiling as she walked up. My ankle on fire from trying to stand on my tiptoes. “If you do what we say, we’ll lower her a little bit so it’s easier for her to stand.”

Jongin just nods, not trusting his words right now.

She points the gun at Jongin, “Darling, will you prepare our star for what’s going to happen next.”

Our the corner of my eye, I see a man walk over to my left. I see him pick up a bucket. I felt something touch me as I see the woman with her finger with my blood on it. I watch her lick it as she pulls Jongin away. “Kiss me,” She says, “Make my husband jealous. Give him a reason to make me pay for it.”

Jongin looks disgusted, looking at me. The woman smirks at me, “Make her jealous. Kiss me like you’ve kissed her.” The man dumps the bucket over me, and I could feel the cut stinging as I gasped for air, almost slipping off the ice block. Salt water. “Make me as wet as she is. Do it or we’ll kill her.”  I was completely soaked. I know exactly what’s coming next. I’ve seen this done before many times.

Fuck.

Jongin looks at her, grabbing her face and smashes his lips to hers, mouth open and kissing her like they’re the ones about to fuck one another. It made me angry to see. Her making Jongin do something like that. He’d never kiss her under any other circumstance. When he pulls away, breathing deeply for air she smiles, biting her lip. I see the woman reach into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a hand taser. She hands it to Jongin. “Shock her,” She says.

“Are you fucking crazy,” Jongin yells, taking a step away from her.

Before I could say anything, I feel myself being lifted. The tightness around my throat stopping me from breathing as I struggled, swinging in the air for a brief moment. It felt like ages there, not breathing, the rope tightening around my throat.

“I’ll do it,” I hear Jongin yell.

I was lowered, my feet finding the ice block again as I stand on the tips of my toes, gasping for air. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, I feel the taser touch my stomach. I scream out, my body locking up from the pain. It was like my body was on fire. The saltwater making my body more conductive makes it hurt so much worse. Tears coming to my eyes as I yell in pain.

“That’s it,” I hear the man say, “Fuck that’s it.”

“Shock her when I say,” the woman says, smirking at her husband and calling him over with a finger. “Whatever I tell you to do to her, you do it.”

I see her get on her knees as the man walks over. He points his gun towards us, as I see her unbuckle his belt. “Cut her,” She says, watching as she licks the man’s cock, “On her thigh.”

I feel the blade cut me again, as I just wince. I felt like I was being cooked alive from the taser still.

“You think you can just kiss him and get away from it,” He man growls, pulling his wife's hair.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m sorry.

“Open your mouth, whore,” He says, “I’m going to fuck your mouth until you remember who you really belong to.” I hear the man groan, hand curling in his wife’s hair. “You picked good baby,” He mutters, looking over.

“Tase her,” She says, watching as she kept sucking her husband.

I feel that burning again, this time slipping from the ice. The burning combined with the panic from hanging making me terrified. I feel Jongin reach out, bringing me back to the ice again.

“Cut her face and lick it,” The man groans, before looking down at his wife, “Let me fuck your mouth. You’ve proven to be a slut I might as well fuck your throat. You’d like that, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” She mutters, “Fuck my throat until I can’t speak!”

Standing on the ice I was about as tall as Jongin was. He frowns, looking like he regrets having to do this as he cuts my cheek. When he leaned forward, I whisper as quietly as possible, “There is a knife in my boot. Your right.”

His tongue licks the wound. I couldn’t help but remember last night and this morning with him, how crazy we were with one another. When he pulls away, he winks at me, telling me he heard.

“Shock her,” the man groans, as I look at see him fucking his wifes throat now. The sound of it echoing in the room. Her make up running and her lipstick all over. She looked sloppy, but I suppose that’s what this sick fuck likes.

Jongin does, and I let out a yell of pain before slipping from the ice again. He gets down, grabbing my legs and puts them on the ice again. I feel the knife leave my boot as Jongin hid it quickly in the pocket of his jeans.

We hear a groan, seeing the couple separate. He looked in bliss and she was smiling. I see her stand, smiling at her husband. She walked over, spitting his cum at my face. I glare at her, feeling it land on my cheek and lips. In her hand the gun was gone as the husband turns around.

Before I could say anything I see Jongin puts one hand over her mouth, the other stabbing into her neck a few times. The blood spraying into the air from where he caught the artery. He was instantly covered in it, Jongin looking like a wild animal that has been backed into a corner. He grabs the gun, the husband turns, his eyes wide with rage as he fires at Jongin. I see the bullet grazed him as the husband barrels towards him in an unthinking rage. They both fall, the guns falling too as the man’s leg kicked the ice block.

I was swinging, trying to breath. Panic set in, unable to focus on Jongin as I could feel myself losing consciousness. The fear tormenting me knowing my neck could snap at any moment.

I feel someone’s arms around me, before lifting me up. I gasped, seeing the knife above me cutting the rope.

I look, seeing the man on the ground, throat cut and blood pooling around him. I fell against Jongin, who eased me to the ground. He moves, checking their pockets and finds the key to the handcuffs. Once off, I take the pieces of my shirt and wipe the cum from my face, disgusted.

“Do you want my shirt,” Jongin asks, looking at me, hands moving to hold my face.

“No,” I say, “We need to get to the safe house quickly. We’re almost there, the bike is probably gone.”

“How far is it,” Jongin asks, quickly pulling on his shirt.

“A few blocks,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “hidden in the basement of an abandoned building.”

“Hop on my back,” He says, leaning over and grabbing the run. “We’ll get there quicker. You can use the gun and kill anyone who gets too close.”

The run there seemed like it was quicker than when we rode. My adrenaline was pumping as Jongin ran, hands holding my gets as I used one arm to hold onto him, the other with the gun. A person ran at us, Jongin slowed and I managed to get him in the chest. He kept coming, looking like he was tweaked out on something as I shot again, this time in the leg as he finally fell. Jongin ran past then, as I instructed him to go down a set of stairs in an alleyway. No one was there as we see a keypad.

“Two, three, eight,six,nine, zero, four,” I say, as he pinned them in. The door unlocks, opening to a small room with yet another door. This one a hand print reader. I push my hand to it, watching it scan before it lit up green. Jongin opens the door, walking inside and shutting it behind us.

The room was small. A bed, a TV, a small desk with a mini-fridge beside it and a small bathroom. Jongin sets me down on the bed, before moving into the bathroom. “There’s no first aid,” He says, coming back out the bathroom. I could see his hands shaking.

I grab them, looking him in the eyes. “Jongin,” I say, “It’ll be ok. You barely cut me.”

He looks at me, nodding.

“Is that the first time you’ve ever had to kill someone,” I ask.

Jongin nods, “First time I’ve even hurt anyone.”

“It’s ok. If you didn’t, who knows what they would have done,” I say, pulling him to sit down next to me. “For all we know, they were lying.”

“I can’t,” Jongin mutters, “I can’t deal with this now.”

“What do you need,” I ask.

“Distraction.”

“Well, there’s a TV. You could wa-”

Jongin’s hands grab my face, pulling it to his. Lips meeting mine quickly, before I feel his tongue. I just let go, opening my mouth and moving to sit on his lap, I pulled away, letting out a small sound of pain from my ankle before he looks at my leg.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He says, lips kissing my neck.

I wince, “Not the neck either.”

“Right,” He says, nodding. I pull my sports bra over my head, rolling my hips against his. This probably wasn’t the best way to deal with traumatic things, but who am I to tell him what to do. I’ve done the same in similar situations, after all. I pull his shirt over his head, before getting up carefully.

Jongin got what I wanted as he started to strip the rest of his clothes off. I was as careful as I could pulling my shoes and socks off. The pants and underwear went quickly too, before I turn. Jongin’s hands lift me, before setting me onto the twin size bed. I blinked and he was between my legs, trailing kisses down my stomach.

It felt like years, the two of us absorbed with one another. Seemed like there was nothing I could do to satisfy him completely. He’d cum one minute and be hard against the next. He was careful with my injuries, but my mind was mush, unable to form intelligent thoughts after a while.

Now, I was on my stomach, my hips raised with the pillows. Every thrust was hard, making me moan out as I was starting to lose my voice between the yelling and the hanging. I could hear the chime of my phone as I reach over, able to just get my pants before pulling them closer. I got it out the pocket. Caller I.D. reading ‘Boss’.

“Hey Boss,” I say, gripping at the blanket below me. I was trying not to scream into the phone as Jongin didn’t even pause or slow for me to answer the phone.

“Haven’t heard from you,” He says, “You were supposed to call me when you got Jongin to the safe house.”

“Been a bit bus-oh fuck! Busy,” I say, “He’s safe and happily trying to fuck me to death. Do’ya mind?”

I hear Yixing laugh, “You’re insatiable. Purge is over, by the way. I expect to see you tomorrow night.”

He hangs up and I drop the phone, feeling Jongin push into me with what seemed like renewed vigor.

“Do you want me to cum in you again,” He asks, “Fill you up completely?”

“Fuck yes,” I moan, toes curling.

I feel him go still, the feeling of more warm cum in me as he thrusts one last time. Before I can think he’s flipped me onto my back, the pillows tossed to the side. His eyes locked between my legs as I feel the cum oozing out. I reach down, feeling some on my fingers and bring them to my mouth. I lick, smiling before winking. “You filled me so good, Jongin,” I mutter.

“But you didn’t cum again,” He says smirking before leaning down. Fingers smearing his cum all over my sex, making me throw my head back in a moan as they brushed my clit. I look just in time to see his tongue sticking out and I feel it connect. It didn’t matter if it was his cum all over, he didn’t care as he pushed two fingers into me, curling them just the perfect amount. The tightness in my lower belly completely going crazy as I screamed out, having another orgasm that night. He pulls away, moving and licking his fingers. I could see his release on his tongue as I pulled him towards me, licking into his mouth. After, he moved, head resting on my stomach as he was breathing deeply.

I felt weird. Awkward. Usually I was falling asleep immediately, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Jongin. He moves, sitting up before looking for his clothes. “Purge is over, so I’ll just get a ride home,” He says, not looking at me. He pulls his pants and underwear on quickly, “Thanks, for keeping me alive.”

I sigh quietly, sitting up and quickly grabbing his shirt as I stand, biting back a sound of pain. He looks at me, confused expression as I bite my lip, feeling incredibly awkward. “So, I’m not the best at this, but I feel like I need to say somethi-”

“It’s fine. We don’t need to say anything. After today we’re just going our separate ways,” He says, moving to me and trying to grab his shirt. I pull it out of his reach.

“Have you ever done that before,” I ask, looking him in the eyes.

“Sex,” He asks, confused, “I’m pretty sure you know the answer.”

“Killed someone,” I say, looking at him in the eyes. He practically flinched when I said it. I nod, getting my answer, “The first time is hard and I know I’m a huge hypocrite saying this, but… in self defense or defense of people who can not defend themselves, you shouldn’t think of it like… cold blooded murder.”

“They said they were not going to-”

“People lie, Jongin,” I say, reaching up and turning his face to look me in the eyes back. “I could have died multiple times. My neck could have snapped. You took a chance and saved me from that. Who knows what those sick fucks would have wanted.”

“Have you killed people?”

“You’ve seen me d-”

“Before. Nights that are not Purge nights,” He asks.

I sign, nodding. “I work for a mafia. I’m a professional at getting secrets out of people. Shit that they’ve done to me I’ve done to others. I’ve done worse, but never to people who don’t deserve it.”

“Who are you to decide that,” Jongin asks, backing away from me. The look of horror on his face hurt more than I expected.

“Because the people I do that kind of shit to are people who’ve hurt innocent people. They use their money to get out of hurting the poor. They’ve murdered and gotten away with it on technicalities. They’ve stolen from the less fortunate to give to themselves. But the worse? People who hurt children,” I say, my voice cracking as I realize there are tears streaming down my face. “People like my father…”

Jongin looks at me, eyes wide with pity.

“My sister doesn’t even know that I… killed him,” I mutter, “She just thought it was one of his business associates, but it was me. The Triad was looking to squash him for years but didn’t have the chance, so when I did it, they just… offered me a job.” I look at Jongin, “I had to. To remove people like that, to keep my sister safe, but even then I failed. She was almost killed last year. All because I underestimated some sick fuck.”

I walk forward, my ankle screaming in pain, “You protected me. You killed someone, but if you didn’t they could have killed us. Who knows, they’ve probably killed before. Stop people from seeking revenge later on.” I point, hitting him in the chest, “Try to distract yourself all you want, but it happened, Jongin. It may not have felt like the right thing to do, but it was. I just hope one day you see that.” I throw his shirt at his face, moving to my clothes.

Jongin said nothing, just watching me as I get dressed. I quickly finish tying my shoes, before limping towards the door, my phone in hand. I didn’t look back, getting uber quickly thankfully. The streets are being cleaned of blood and gore as I get inside, seeing just as Jongin walked out. I gave him a nod before taking off.

I shake my head, getting my sister on the line and calling. “Hey, mind if I shower and nap at your place?”

I stretch, groaning as I wake up from my nap. I see the newly wedded Mrs. Zhang sitting there, watching the television with a glass of wine. A long red dress on her as she takes a sip, looking over. “Good morning,” She smiles, “Long night?”

“Tell your husband that if she has me work two days no sleep again, I’m going to make him pay for it.”

“Well, he did let you pass out here, after all.”

“He didn’t have a choice,” I say, popping my neck. “Fuck, you both had this dinner part tonight, right? I’ll get out of here befo-”

“Stay,” She says.

I laugh, “I’m hardly dressed for the occasion.”

“That doesn’t matter. Just use one of the spare toothbrushes to brush your teeth because your morning breath isn’t pleasant.”

“You have spare toothbrushes,” I ask, looking at her.

“They just hand them out at the dentist,” She says, shrugging taking another sip.

Standing, I move towards the closest bathroom. I find a few of those small bags with toothbrushes and a small toothpaste. It was quick, thankfully I forced Yixing to let me take a shower before I passed out on one of their many couches. I leave, seeing some people walking in. Dresses and suits. I see Junmyeon and my sister, both dressed in their best. My sister looked at me, smiling before walking over.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” she says, pulling me into a hug.

“I passed out on Yixing couch,” I say, looking at Junmyeon, “Hey, Doc.”

He smiles, “You look nice.”

“Thanks for lying,” I say, hugging him too. “I’m just going to get some free food and then bounce. The night is young, after all. Spent the last two days working, I need a little fun in my life.”

“Don’t forget some ice cream,” My sister says, winking.

“I still have a freezer full of what you made for me.”

A few more minutes and I wave, moving to get to the kitchen to sneak some food with me. I bump into someone, frowning. “Why don’t you wa… oh.”

My eyes wide, looking at Jongin standing before me. The navy colored suit he wore was perfectly pressed, his hair back and out of his face as he just looked at me with shock.

My mind was frozen as I see him. I turn, moving towards the door. I feel him catch my arm, pulling me back.

“You were right,” He says. “That morning. You were right. I shouldn’t blame myself. Turns out, they killed a lot of people… but that didn’t matter either. I did what I did because they were hurting you.” He gulps, looking very shy right now. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to get that off my chest for a while now.”

I smile at him, nodding. I look around, seeing every dressed in their best before smiling at Jongin. I nod my head towards the door, “Wanna get out of here? Get some real dinner and not some stupid fancy shit?”

“I could use a cheeseburger,” He nods.

“Well lucky for you, I know the best place in town to get one,” I say with a grin.

As we leave, I see Jongin stop by a man taller than him. His white colored dyed hair styled perfectly as he looked at Jongin, nodding. Jongin catches up, grabbing my hand with his before pulling me towards the door.

“By the way,” He says as we walk towards all the cars here, “I’m thinking of this as a date.”

“Is it considered too slutty that I put out before even the first date, then,” I ask as a joke.

“Who cares,” He says, “Life is short. Live it up the way you want.”

I couldn’t help but smile and agree to that.

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

How would the Papas/Copia deal with a s/o who was possessed? I don’t mean some lower class demon, I mean something like legion...

i read a lot of grimoires for this one baby im ready to go. took some demons, put my own spin on things to hopefully twist your heart in the way you hoped for. i always went way overboard. i have that Too Much Gene.

TW: death of a family member (Papa II only)

Papa I: He would be first to know that his s/o is possessed. sure, they all recognize the signs, but it only actually occurs in the eldest mind that maybe this is something a little larger than what they had originally thought. And he’s terrified. You see, they never taught the Papas how to exercise a demon from anyone, never mind the body of their lover. His s/o is possessed by our darling Surgat. Though it’s true that he can open every lock, this comes at a price - and he never comes without being asked. The s/o had to invoke this subjection, coffin nails, chants and all - they felt lost, and hopeless, and needed answers as to what they could do. they had a lock around the part of their brain that would allow them to continue their life, and they needed it opened. The problem though, is getting him to leave once he’s been summoned. They have seen the light, the lock is gone, but they remain under the control of Him entirely. Papa I is horrified when he finds out just what his lover had done to themselves, and refuses to see them or be around them until the exorcism has been done. Sure, he always believed, but seeing that sort of thing in real life? Watching the one he loves seize and fit and speak in tongues and pray to the devil? that’s a whole different story.

Papa II: One night Papa II studied too late in the office at home. One night he read every book on demons he could find because his thirst for knowledge couldnt be quenched by even the clergy library. one night he left a book open on his desk when he went to work. One morning, his grieving lover found that book. When you are in the harshest grips of your grief, your brain does some awful things. sometimes its so bad your brain just stops taking stock of everything thats happening around you and you live your life on mute for a while. sometimes grief can make you completely forget summoning whatever you could possibly find in your lover’s book to bring back to you what you lost.  Frulthiel visits the s/o in the night, promising to bring back their lost sister. sometimes grief can make you accept a deal to get what you want no matter the terms. when II finds out just what his s/o is done, he feels it’s all his fault. he shouldn’t have left the books open. he shouldn’t have even had books like that in the house around someone who is in such a depression. someone willing to do anything to fix the ache. As the very old story “the monkey’s paw” eludes, when you bring someone back from the dead, they do not look like they did when they were alive. the demon never had an intention of restoring the life of it’s inhibitors sibling, merely it’s body into a state that may stand and move. it’s up to II to save his lover from not only seeing the monstrous thing that they’d created, but also to save them from the demon that still hides in their bones, and courses through their veins. He keeps it together, but when all his said and done and his love is returned to their regular human self, he breaks. a crack so deep he is sure that he will never be able to fill it with love or power or money or alcohol. that type of hurt doesn’t go away.

Papa III: Sure, the eldest’s s/o was seeking knowledge and strength, and the middle child’s s/o was seeking solace, but the youngest brother’s love seeks something much, much worse: him. He spends long hours in the clergy when he’s working. He spends long months on the road when he’s touring. Of course he misses his lover, but he knows he’ll be home in only a few short weeks - they cannot wait that long. the constant missing of the only person that’s ever felt like home to them is beginning to eat away at them. one night, after a bottle of straight absinthe, they start to do some digging through whatever books they can find. they think, maybe a silly spell will bring him home to me.Maybe a silly spell will bring me to him. it will never work, they say. Hicpacth unfortunately had other plans for the pair. When the s/o is possessed by this demon, that brings you to anyone you choose no matter how near or far, he is relentless. at first, III likes having his s/o around all the time. it’s nice. and then its starts to get annoying. he can never get any alone time. he cant even go to the bathroom without his s/o crying for hours about missing him - what’s gotten into them? better who, he asks. it takes him a very long time to figure out something is wrong - at first he tries to tell them he needs space, it doesn’t work. he tries to break up with them, it doesn’t work. nothing will phase them. all the need is be near him - to be loved by him. It is a very long time of him trying to get away from the person he once loved before he decides to try something. once the demon is out of his poor lovers body, they have no clue what happened or how long it’s been since they were possessed, but III isn’t sure he can go back to the way things were. he isn’t sure if he could ever love them again after going so long tormented and tortured by their obsession over him.

Cardinal Copia: hindsight, for the Cardnal, may have saved the life of his s/o. It may have kept their mind intact. They are the only one who was possessed or subjected without invoking some type of curse first. this human was taken out of the kindness of the very heart of Asag - a demon that lacks very much kindness. They were also the only one who was fully present and conscious during the possession. It start as headaches, just minor really and barely enough to take an advil for. And then they grew worse, and more frequent. They couldn’t leave the house without a bottle of pain killers in their bag. The cardinal urged them to seek medical care but they assured him it would pass and nothing was really wrong. When the headaches had progressed to debilitating migraines that lasted days at a time, they got a prescription for a heavier pain medication. medications of any kind stopped working, then. after that, headaches still persistent, the pain began to bleed into every other part of the body. the chest, arms, legs, down to their finger tips. it felt like a constant fire was burning them alive with every breath they took, unable to escape the flames no matter the medical intervention or sleeping or breathing exercises or anything. the pain would not go away. I said earlier that mental pain does incredible things to the mind. pain can rewrite the way you see things, and the way you understand things, and change what gets committed to memory - which is sometimes simply nothing. this applies to physical pain to. after so many hours and days and weeks and months spent writhing in pain, desperate for solution but unable to find solace even in sleep, you begin to wonder curious things. your mind begins to stop accepting whats happening to your body. It takes the Cardinal the longest to realize what’s happened, and though resolution takes merely a day, the scars left inside his lover are permanent. their brain doesn’t recover from that type of trauma. their brain is permanently shut off on the receiving end. The Cardinal thinks, that along with the demon, a part of his lover’s soul left too. a part that cant be recovered.

- Judith 

[riseoftheredking]

6/19/20 update

Since I’ve gotten nowhere with my hematologist, and really gave thought to what it is he has said and done, I knew I was on my own. His refusal to give me a phlebotomy at 53.3% because it wasn’t 54% (where’d he even get that number??) sends the direct message that he does not care about the affects, or my life. Not the migraines, not the discomfort. Nothing. His “Maybe you should just stop taking testosterone and bleed” tells me he’s punishing me for being trans. “Maybe just don’t be trans.” 

I did bleed. Hell week came back. I knew it would. Now let me say that for an entire month, I endured cramping before it. My back was killing me. My hips hurt like hell, radiating pain all the way down to my toes. I experienced depression worse than ever before, and the reason why only just registered. Along with other things I plan to talk about in this post. My migraines came back full force, like they were in high school. And the moment hell week hit, so did everything else that comes with it. WORSE pain. WORSE nausea. SEVERE cramping. SEVERE FATIGUE. I spent most of my week ASLEEP. My fatigue has been getting worse all month, but it hit extra hard during hell week. I stopped taking my T entirely since the last week of May. I had to. With 53.3% hematocrit, and no help from him for a phlebotomy, I had to.

So on the 17th, there was a blood drive. I went. It was going to deplete my resources severely but I’m trying not to die. They turned me away because my pulse was 108 (she counted by hand, mind you.) I went to the hospital, hoping they’d do a phlebotomy. They won’t. I can only get my hematologist to do it. FUCKING GREAT, RIGHT? But my pulse, temperature, oxygen, and blood pressure were all normal. So idk wtf that bitch at Red Cross did, but she fucked me over for sure. And whoever’s life my blood could have saved. But the hospital did a blood test at my request. I’m down to 48% hematocrit (I’m assuming from not fucking taking T at all for a month), so fuck it, I’m starting my T back up. But the trip to the hospital was torture. They all kept misgendering me. All of them. Every single person. And the ER doctor said “the case worker says it’s hard for young people to get home care” and I started crying because my youth shouldn’t be a goddamn death sentence, and she just WALKED OUT WITHOUT A WORD. Zero empathy. She didn’t try to console me. She didn’t try to figure out what she could do or how she could help. Nothing. Nothing at all. She just walked the fuck away while I’m sobbing and alone. And I had two people ask me if I really needed my testosterone. Are you fucking kidding me?! DUH! I NEED IT! The case worker kept trying to blame insurance for why I can’t get this done from home, when that’s literally not the case. Even my insurance Case worker WANTS me to be able to get the stuff from home and she’s doing all she can. The people that need to help her do it are the ones not helping.

Yesterday? What yesterday. I slept all day. Literally ALL DAY. 7am-8pm. That’s the kind of shit I did pre-T. And then it registered that testosterone has vastly improved my quality of life. My migraines aren’t as strong or frequent on T. No Hell Week, which means no cramping, bleeding, or appetite issues aside from my usual ones. My depression isn’t as strong on T. Seriously, without it, I’ve spent 99% of my day thinking “I wanna cry. But why? Can I just fucking die already??” I have more energy on T. I feel freer on T. Less pain on T. I need T more than I need oxygen.

I need all the help I can get to fight this war. Please help. Please. I don’t know how anymore. But there’s a lot wrong with this entire situation.

[namjoonchronicles]

Hi lovey!!! Hope you are alright! Let’s see how you are gonna kill me with Namjoon and 4# ;) kiss kiss and thank you for Drabble night

4. “Do you...well...I mean...I could give you a massage?”

“Have you got your lunchbox?”

“Yup.”

“The transportation card?”

“Right here.”

Nine years old. A little chubby for his age. But always the good son.

“Today goes as planned okay? Since I can’t fetch you at school at noon, you’ll take the 105 bus to the train and stopped at the second last station and take a 22 bus route home, yes?”

“Yes mom,” he groaned, puffing his cheeks as he fix the bag straps on his shoulder over his winter jacket. He looks up, those doe brown eyes notices that you are rubbing the back of your neck. Hasn’t the sore died down when he asked?

“Mom, do you need a massage?” He asked.

And far in your thoughts, there was a deafening whisper of something similar, translucent with time, gritty and full of weight, coming with a dimpled smile impossible to forget entirely, 

“Do you...well...I mean...I could give you a massage?” 

  Hyun’s big doe eyes brought you back in recent time, a skip in your heart when you remembered that you’re far from that memory. But also so close. You retracted your hand from it and forced out a smile while pouring away the rest of the coffee into the sink, “It’s become a habit... plus. It happens often when I’m stressed, you know that, Hyun. Come on, let’s go.”

You snatch your bag and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, yanking the front door open and halting halfway to exclaim, “The car ke—“

“—I got it,” your son yelps.

Your car halts in front of the school gates and instead of you reminding all the things he needs to do, Hyun is nagging you.

“And don’t put your phone silent, because then I call you don’t hear them and then you come at me saying I don’t tell you stuff. And remember to put the brakes up when you park. And drink lots of water just as much as you drink coffee...” “Hyun...” “And the extra house key is in the dashboard. I put charging cables in your bag so your phone don’t run out of batteries...” “Hyun I—“ “There’s extra migraine pills in the top drawer of your desk, remember to take those vitamins...” “Hyun, I’m the mom here okay... and why,” you looked around the view of the school and saw many elder men coming and entering the school. “I hope things work out with you and grandma today, it be nice to have a grandparent,” Hyun’s sausage finger curls around the door handle and lift it open when you tilt your head to the side and smiled, asking out of curiosity, “How did you know about that?”

Hyun shuts the door and you opened the car window.

“You’re not the only smart one in this house,” he stuck out his tongue at you and you did the same. As you drive away, you remembered that you didn’t ask him about the men that are coming to school. Was there an event you missed out on?

Pulling next to the school’s guard who is controlling the traffic, you inquired him politely.

“Oh! It’s Bring Your Dad To School Day...”

Engine purrs to a stop once it arrives at the parking spot. The car beeps as the car unlocks all its doors but you sat frozen in place. Eyes wide and leaning your head back to the head rest in the car alone. Hyun didn’t tell you. He could have a skipped the day but he didn’t. Your selfishness and fear are what brought this to place.

And it is also what made you and your mother stopped talking to each other. It had been 10 years since March on Hyun’s birthday that you meet your parents. Their conservative upbringing made you stray away from them for fear that they wouldn’t accept you for what you’ve done.

But eventually, they find out that you’ve been raising Hyun alone when he turns 3. And they did hurt you by saying that you’ve raised a fatherless child. Honestly, you didn’t care. You can be called a whore or a rich men’s mistress—other people’s assumptions of you doesn’t matter because you know the whole truth. And today, you hoped, you could be truthful. And honestly, being away from your mom is tiring world to live in.

“Mom...” you called and she snapped her head around, smiling. Sharing a long awaited hug felt wholesome. You don’t feel as alone anymore. There’s a comfort in knowing that you could rely on someone.

“How’s Hyun?” She asked, her wrinkles show when her lips curl into a smile and you hurried to yor bag because you remembered Hyun made her something. It was a paper crane and a heart origami.

Your mom touches it with the tip of her fingers, and then fully into her palms, truly appreciating them. Her eyes twinkles.

“He is very into origamis nowadays... I’m going to take him to pottery class soon, it seems he’ll enjoy them,” you bit your smile feeling proud of your child.

“Has he... ever asked about his,” your mom stammered.

“His dad?” You finished her sentence with a beaming face to feign whatever it is in your heart, “Once. Now that he understand, he doesn’t pester me as much. I felt that he would want to know so I told him the truth.”

Your mother extends her hand and covered yours to give it a little squeeze.

“What really happened to Hyun’s dad?”

You blinked a few times. And memories flooded from where it had been buried for a decade. There was a time where you decide that being alone might not be so bad. And somewhere during that time, someone convinced you that life was meant to be shared.

And his name was Kim Namjoon. And he had doe brown eyes.

He is everything. The most captivating mind you have ever met. He sits at the same spot every lecture. He has a lot of friends and quite a chatterbox. Always in tune with the small army of friends he has. Passion that overflows, tall, charismatic, firm handshake. The kind that everyone wants to be associated with. Charming. Alluring. Magnetizing.

An exhibition that you attended far from town shed all of that image of him. Namjoon likes wood, nature and crabs. Namjoon like sweet things and had a deep thought about skies. Namjoon likes flowers and planets and everything in between. And Namjoon notices you.

“Why?” “I guess it makes you very noticeable. Because you bear a soul and not a mask... when you talk about social understanding and reasoning behind things people find confusing, you speak... faster and louder.” “You find it stupid...” you accused, tipping your head to the side away from him. “W-what, no! I think its amazing and I want to hear more than you let out,” Namjoon stammered almost panicking. “Nobody cares about why and if they do, they probably had given up because the numbers keep rising. Teenagers and drugs are seen as normal but it’s not!”

The edges of Namjoon’s lips twitch into a smile, because if you didn’t know who he was, you wouldn’t remember the topic of the event he spoke on. Namjoon rakes on numbers of drug addicts that are in their teenage years and penalties that could be propose to reduce the numbers. His deductions were achievable—in theory but in execution? You doubted it.

“You disagree about the penalties?” “Wrong. I was sceptical of it,” you start to walk and he followed, “All these years, the government proposes using money to taunt youngsters not to take drugs, but has it work? Imprisonment, fines, getting kicked out of schools doesn’t help them—it worsens them. Should I continue or are you already bored?”

Namjoon’s phone rang. He took one perplexed look and replied a message before he answers you. And while you explain, another call arrives. And another. And another.

Until finally,

“I think the discussion should stop here. You’re obviously very busy and I obviously have overstayed the exhibition...” you took a look at your watch and the exhibition worker starts closing down. Has it really been that long? Where did the time go?

“Are you,” he raises his voice as the distance between you two increases, “Are you free tomorrow? I’d really love to continue this. In day light where its appropriate.”

“No,” you shake your head, “Tomorrow we’ll be back in college where you are THE Kim Namjoon and I’m the girl at the far corner judging everyone with my thick full rimmed glasses, no I’m not free.” Your heels swung around, giving him your back and you waved.

But Namjoon is persistent. He passed notes. Asking you for your number and you gave him a pizza place hotline. You thought he will eventually gave up. But no. He actually ordered the pizza at noon the next day and have it personally delivered to you with a huge marker asking for your number yet again. You ate the pizza but passed him a middle finger up across the room when he was smiling in triumph thinking he had won this game. He looks at you fondly while you glare at him across the hall.

“I like a challenge,” he grins at the view of your back.

After that, he starts showing up everywhere. Your lectures, the libraries, the cafe you frequent in, even your lunch spot—literally everywhere. Notes left on your car, in your books, in your bags and one time in your shoes. He really is trying to annoy you like this.

He was speaking to his friends, making big gestures with his hands when you tapped his shoulder and he spun around. You expected him to give you a smug smile but he looks a little frightened, perhaps a little shy. His ears turned red.

You didn’t let that stop you. You slammed a yellow post-it note on his grey shirt right above his heart and he blinked at you as you walked away. His friends are teasing him but all he could hear is his own heartbeat in his ears.

He would text you about his day and make appointments that he calls engagement and at first it was for educational purposes; watching Ice Age reruns for environmental concerns, rare art exhibitions across the city for appreciation towards classic arts, poetry reading to study social engagements—and then the ‘appointments’ turn to, ‘going there because you’ve never been’ trips.

Comic-con. Comic book stores. Watching his animes. Accompanying him to find his KAWS collection. Forest parks. Nursery. Botany farms. Scuba diving. Snorkelling even when he couldn’t swim. Teaching him how to swim. Going to pottery class. Cooking class where he almost burns the hall. Accompanying him to his driving lessons which he failed every time but passes the theory test. Cheering him up because he failed driving lessons. Cheering him up because he sulked about you not telling him you had a medical check-up. Going for icecream trips in winter. Going for bike rides in Autumn. Taking pictures of him by the blossoming Sakura trees in Spring. Taking him to the beach in Summer.

“We’re just friends,” It will break him and you knew. But you didn’t care. When he wakes up and this will all be a dream.

But he woke up and gave you a call. Many calls. Until finally you answered.

“Hey,” he sounded so soft, “Where you went, I woke up and you weren’t here, I called you so many times...”

“We just started a life as a working adult, and everything that happened are just stress...” your pace begins to hasten.

“What are you talking about... it’s not just one time,” Namjoon dug his hand into one pocket, looking out the window of his office.

“It happens between two people and it’s nothing alright.I don’t want you to get any ideas if our relationships should be more than this,” you clenched your eyes shut and stopped in your tracks, “Don’t look for me. Don’t call me ever again.”

End call.

Your mother takes the brim of the cup to her lips.

“And when I got the positive pregnancy test finally, I got rid of him. I changed my number, my address, moved cities with my job and gave birth to Hyun,” you fiddled with your fingers.

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted a baby that is mine. And mine alone. And I know I wanted his and no one else. I got what I wanted. I can offer him nothing more...I’m undependable. I don’t believe in marriage and this is the closest thing I get to have children of my own. I always wanted to be a mom, not a wife,” you explained.

“Does he know he has a kid?”

You shook your head. Eventhough deep in your heart you knew that he must have found out somehow or felt that he was a father. But what can he do? Hyun is yours and yours alone. Or so you’d like to believe.

“Hyun? It’s your turn...” Hyun looks outside and smiled brightly. Marching into the room with a three-piece suit, looking dashing as ever, was Kim Namjoon.

“Hello, and good morning, I’m Kim Namjoon and I’m Hyun’s dad.”

.

.

.

hi! i recognise your username! thank you for always supporting me! it’s a slight long drabble, because I had a story  like this in my head for so long... I hope you like it!

[scribe-the-write-thing]

So after a VERY bumpy stretch of road in my life, I’m finally back on writing,yay! I hope to get more out soon, but I focused on something a little easier to get me started!

Here we meet Verity, and Barkley really needs to learn how to correctly convince a witness to help in the case. Aleiah takes over for the interview since uh... Barkley isn’t the most gentle at the best of times, but we’ll all get to see Barkley’s interrogation interview methods when it comes to meeting the Alexander we see discussed below. And things really, really get fiery there.

For now, though, enjoy Aleiah’s gentler, more professional touch. Oh also, she’s a Dr in, an official capacity,  in psychology. Under the table and as part of the agency though-- she’s a doctor of cryptobiology (being able to make up fake things for the world I'm in is fun).

This is taken straight out of draft one, so it’s shaky and subject to change but! Here goes nothing.

-

[BEGIN LOG]

[Interviewer: Dr Aleiah King. Dated ██████. Informal interview in Dr King’s room at the local Inn]

[██████ is a maid at the Whiterose estate. For her own protection, she will be referred to under the alias of Verity. Interviewee agreed to only be interviewed privately, for a short while, with the agreement that no one else is informed. This was after much persuasion from Agent Barkley -- whom she refused to speak with. Interviewee expressed anxiety repeatedly before recording, and fidgetted frequently throughout. She insists that she cannot stay too long.]

DR KING: I’d like to thank you for agreeing to do this, it helps to have at least    one person willing to cooperate. 

VERITY:   It’s… Okay. I just- I want this over with. I just want to be left alone.

DR KING:  I understand. Barkley can be…. [sighs], forthright, sometimes. I       know. I’m sorry if she’s been disruptive.

VERITY:  [scoffs] Disruptive? Do you know how many times she’s shown up to my house? I speak to her once, and this is how she treats me? Is it standard  procedure to harass people? My kids-

DR KING:     -I apologise for my partner’s behaviour. But nothing about this case is standard. Barkley wants to find the truth, ██████. As do I. Miss Weiss’ journal indicates that you were one of the last to speak with her. Can you confirm this?

VERITY:  Weiss?- You mean... Camille? Yes- she- she spoke with me. She wanted to know about the estate. About my job. [Pause] But I didn’t know her well, or anything.

DR KING: So, you weren’t friends?

VERITY: [laughs] God no. I mean- I tolerated Camille, like many did here. She wasn’t a bad girl, per se. But... far too forward for my liking. Every city girl stereotype you can imagine; that was Camille. We only talked a few times-- when she caught me walking home or… dropping my kids off at school.

DR KING:  But you knew her well enough to be on a first name basis?

VERITY:   [Pause] We’re… it’s a small town. We’re friendly enough here to all work on first names, maybe things are different in the big cities.

DR KING:    Miss Weiss mentions you quite a bit. Is she… over exaggerating your level of interaction? 

VERITY:   … So we met a few times. So what? She… came to my house once. I told you, it wasn’t any big deal. She might have taken more out of it than I did. I  don’t know.

DR KING:    Please, ██████, things will be easier if you’re truthful

VERITY:    I’m telling the truth. 

DR KING: Yes. But I need the whole truth if we’re going to find Miss Weiss. That’s what you want, correct?

VERITY: Of course I want Camille to be found. But have you considered that Camille herself might not want that?

DR KING: You believe that Miss Weiss has... chosen to go missing?

VERITY: I don’t know. Camille was always desperate for a story. Perhaps she decided to become one herself,

DR KING: Did Barkley tell you that?

VERITY: No. She didn’t say anything other than yelling questions at me at ungodly hours of the night, why-

DR KING: It’s only that she shares in the same theory. That this is some... stunt.

VERITY: Perhaps she does have some intellect then. It does seem the simplest answer, no?

DR KING: And the most convenient for the town, and for the Arnou family.

VERITY: Is this leading up to some sort of point?

DR KING:  Alright… You said Miss Weiss was asking about your job? Why would she want to know-

VERITY:  Why would I know?! She was like you two! Never leaving me alone. She  always asked about my work; that’s all she ever wanted to talk about.

DR KING:  Do you think she intended to inquire for a job there?

VERITY:    No. No, she- she never wanted to know about anything like… that.

DR KING:   What do you mean? 

VERITY:  She wanted to know about… about the estate. About the family. She wanted to know what went on in the manor. She kept asking questions         about staff, about… things she thought she saw. She wanted an interview        with Alexander. I don’t know why she thought I would be capable of doing that-

DR KING:  But you were capable of getting her an interview. Weren’t you?

VERITY:    I-

DR KING:    Weiss’ notes indicate that she visited the manor on two occasions. 

VERITY:    I don’t see how that’s relevant… We have visitors to the town trespassing a lot-

DR KING:     But we both know that Miss Weiss was hardly a trespasser. In fact, we know that her first visit here was on an invitation from the Arnou family themselves. A letter signed by Alexander Arnou- You had.... no hand in this at all? You can be honest with me. You’re not in any trouble here.

VERITY:  [lowly] I… I told her to stay away.

DR KING: Can you repeat that? I-

VERITY:    I only mentioned Camille to Alexander once. She must have           arranged the meeting herself. 

DR KING:  Did you say that you told her to-

VERITY:     [raising voice] I couldn’t tell her to do anything. Camille did what she wanted. That’s all she ever did since she arrived. She didn’t listen to anyone- she just- she came barrelling in without a care, acted like she owned the town. Started messing with the founders, trying to get into the estate- talking about all her theories-

DR KING:  It sounds as if she was causing some upset to the residents?

VERITY: (laughs, harshly) You could call it that. We’re used to bothers but... Camille pushed further than most. There are good folk here. Honest folk. People that don’t deserve to have their private lives pried into.

DR KING: And was Alexander one of the people she decided to... pry into?

VERITY: [sighs] What do you think? You read her diary, didn’t you?

DR KING:  Were you there when she came to the manor?

VERITY:    [SILENCE]

DR KING:    Did something happen? Please, any information could be helpful with finding-

VERITY:    I- I ca-. Nothing happened. Camille-

DR KING:   You seem nervous- Please, Miss ██████, if something happened, you have to tell me. For Camille’s sake.

VERITY: N- No.

DR KING: No?

VERITY:  The family affairs are private.

DR KING: What?

VERITY:  We take their secrets to the grave. I cannot tell you.

DR KING:   [voice raising] A woman is missing. Now isn’t the time for- If you have information- 

VERITY:  I can’t. 

DR KING:    You… can’t tell me? If you’re scared, I promise you that we can provide protection for you and your children, you’ll be safe-

VERITY:    [snorts] That’s not why. You don’t understand. I just... can’t.

DR KING:  You mean you won’t.  Withholding information is-

VERITY:    [Loudly] I. Can’t. 

[SILENCE]

DR KING:    ... Help me try to understand-

VERITY:    You couldn’t. Even if you tried.  I want to leave. Please. You’ve asked your questions- I need to go-

DR KING:  You’re in no fit state to leave alone- you look-

VERITY:  Please. Let me go. I- I’ve told you… everything you I can. I swear to you.

DR KING:  There’s more to this than you’re letting me know. You can tell me now, or I can find it myself. I have more than enough grounds to investigate. The family will be interviewed-

VERITY:    [INAUDIBLE]

DR KING:  Excuse me?

VERITY:  [pause]  I said it won’t work. [laughs] Even Camille knew that.

DR KING:  What do you mean?

VERITY:  It doesn’t matter. I meant that- that you wouldn’t find anything. 

DR KING: Why-

[AUDIBLE SOUNDS OF A CHAIR SCRAPING AGAINST THE FLOOR, FOOTSTEPS, A DOOR CREAKING OPEN.]

VERITY:    I mean- there’s nothing to find. You- you really shouldn’t-

[sound of more footsteps, both the voices of DR KING and VERITY are further from the recorder, muffed.]

DR KING:    You’re scared of them, aren’t you? They have something on you-

VERITY:    You don’t know anything about me. And don’t make- assumptions about the family. You should- we all should be more grateful to them-  everything is for the greater good- you don’t know the half of-

DR KING:   Then tell me. How am I supposed to know if no one tells me anything?

VERITY:   [scoffs] You’re as bad as Camille. You think we all owe you something. That you have the right to interfere with whatever you want. If you keep digging, is it really a surprise when you find something you shouldn’t?

DR KING:    Did Camille find something she shouldn’t?

VERITY:    I- I need to leave. Please don’t- I don’t want to be part of this. I             shouldn’t have even- I’m sorry.

DR KING:   At least let me walk you home-

VERITY:   No! No- it’s alright. I- I just want to be left alone.

[END LOG]

[Notes: Interviewee expressed physical symptoms of a migraine after being asked about the events at the manor -- continually rubbed her head and seemed almost in distress. I intend to give her a few weeks to recover before attempting to interview her again. Perhaps building a rapport with her may ease her anxiety. I blame Barkley for this... Poor woman.]

So? Thoughts on Ms Verity over here and what might be going on with her? Aleiah is convinced there’s something awful happening, and Barkley thinks she’s being intentionally obstructive (though, that’s just what Barkley thinks of most people in this town.)

Taglist: @snowwritesall @writinginslowmotion @quilloftheclouds @mvcreates @typewriter-jade @purpleshadows1989 @lady-redshield-writes

[hockeylvr59]

Promises part 4 || Auston Matthews

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Welp...here’s part 4 yinz. Ft. Morgan Rielly (hope this satisfies you for now anon) with mentions of Mitch Marner, Frederik Andersen, and Zach Hyman. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2224

Taking care of Owen was honestly the brightest part of each and every day. He was the happiest baby and watching him grow was such a blessing.

The day before he turned two months old you’d asked Auston to bring you a puck home. Though he was confused, he had complied, leaving it on the island so you’d find it. The team had left for a road trip early the following morning and Auston was at dinner with a few of the guys when you’d attached him into a group chat with his parents and sisters as well as some of the guys whose numbers he’d insisted you needed if you were going to be taking care of Owen frequently.

Since you weren’t there to see it, you could only imagine Auston’s reaction when he saw the photo of Owen lounging on the couch with his Carlton stuffed bear next to him and the puck with a silver ‘2’ written on it laying on his stomach. Things had been too crazy for anyone to think about documenting Owen’s first month development but it was something that you wanted to make sure happened from here on out. Especially with Auston on the road so much, you thought it would be a good way for him to reflect and look back on Owen growing up.

The photo received glowing comments from Auston’s family as well as some of the guys who loved that you had included hockey into the theme. You already knew what you were going to do at months three and four and you were sure Auston would love those as well.

____

You’d officially been helping to take care of Owen for a month the first time you’d met any of Auston’s teammates. With the boys having an off day besides an early practice you weren’t even supposed to be over at Auston’s that day since he could take care of his son when the nanny left.

Plans changed though when the nanny, Maria, called you around 3pm because Owen had been screaming his head off for nearly two hours. Nothing she did would calm him which was strange because you’d seen her with Owen and he had taken to her well.

Since you were done with class for the day, you’d told her that you would head over and see if you could get him to sleep. Within five minutes of you taking Owen, he’d stopped his tantrum and was curled against you sound asleep. Maria murmured something about how he’d just missed you and while you hated to admit it, it seemed like she had a point. She seemed exhausted and seemed like she had a headache so you assured her that she could head home and you would stay with Owen. As she left she informed you that Auston had mentioned having the guys over around dinner time.

You were dancing around the kitchen with Owen watching you from his swing when Auston came home. He was talking loudly with Mitch Marner, Morgan Rielly, Frederik Andersen, and Zach Hyman and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t you know you’re supposed to be quiet in case the baby is sleeping…” You called out scolding them teasingly, honestly thankful that Owen had woken from his nap shortly before because you would be annoyed if they had woken him after how long it had taken you and Maria to get him to sleep.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Auston asked when he came around the corner to find you layering noodles with pasta sauce, ricotta cheese, and a mixture of italian sausage and ground beef. If the guys were going to be here for dinner you figured homemade lasagna was better than them ordering pizza out.

“Maria called me when Owen wouldn’t stop screaming.” You declared with a shrug, turning to grab a bag of italian cheese out of his fridge. “And before you ask or insinuate, no she wasn’t doing anything wrong, she was super patient with him, he just was being fussy and evidently missed me.” After adding the final layers to the lasagna, you popped it into the oven and set the timer before looking back at him. “And she had the start of a migraine coming on so I told her to go home and that I’d stay here.”

“Oh.” Auston murmured and before he could say anything else his teammates had descended on the kitchen.

“There’s the little man…” Mitch declared spotting Owen and seeing the baby crinkle his face up you chuckled to yourself as you turned to fetch a bottle as Owen’s cries echoed through the room. Mitch immediately jumped back declaring that he hadn’t even touched him and after running the bottle under hot water and testing it on your wrist you held it out to him.

“He’s just hungry. If you pick him up and feed him I’m sure you’ll be his new best friend.” You assured him. Once his teammates helped him get a handle on Owen, you handled the bottle over to let Mitch feed him and then turned back to the kitchen to cut up some vegetables for a salad.

“You don’t have to do all that…” Auston whispered softly from beside you.

“I don’t mind, but if you want me to leave so you can have boys night that’s fine.” You stated, wiping your hands on a dish towel as you glanced over your shoulder at him. The last thing you wanted to do was interfere with his life. You were friends and you watched Owen but that was all and so if he wanted some time alone with his teammates you certainly couldn’t fault him for that.

“No. No. It’s fine.” He assured you. “I just...you already do so much. You don’t have to make dinner for all my teammates too. We could have just ordered out.”

“Yeah because that’s good for you…” You stated smirking. “I’d rather you guys not be sluggish tomorrow because you ate unhealthy take out with way too much sodium. It’s not like throwing together a lasagna is hard Aus…”

Throwing his hands up in defeat he murmured a thank you before heading to chat with his teammates and supervise his best friend feeding his son. It wasn’t long before the empty bottle was being placed beside the sink and you called out a reminder to bump Owen because otherwise getting him to sleep tonight would be as difficult as it was this afternoon and you really didn’t want a cranky baby tomorrow because he didn’t sleep enough today.

With dinner completely prepped, you slipped back to the guest bedroom where all your things were in order to relax for a few minutes while the lasagna cooked. With your door cracked, the noise was muffled and you were able to flop down on the bed to try and get some reading done for your classes the next day.

With your focus on your reading material you didn’t look up until there was a rap at the door and Morgan Rielly popped his head into the room.

“Um..y/n the timer on the stove went off and no one was sure if it meant food was done or…”

Sliding off the bed after marking your spot in your book you followed him back to the kitchen.

“It’s almost done, I just need to pull the foil off and put it back in with some garlic bread.” The bread was homemade as well, a loaf of french bread with fresh garlic butter. It didn’t take long for the oven timer to be set again and once everything was taken care of you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

Looking toward the couch, Freddie now had Owen cuddled into his chest while the baby slept again and the rest of the guys had started to play NHL 19. All of them except for Morgan who had followed you and was watching as you finished making dinner.

“Did you want some help getting plates and stuff out?” He asked you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

“That would be great. Do you know where everything is?” You responded sure that he probably did but not wanting to leave him hanging if not. The fact that he proceeded to all of the correct cabinets to get out six sets of everything answered your question.

Morgan set everything on the counter in the form of a buffet line, even grabbing the salad you’d made from the fridge. Then he’d disappeared to the living room for a moment before he was back pulling bottles of water and a few beers from Auston’s fridge. Seeing you already had your own he just smiled at you and winked causing a slight blush to unconsciously grace your cheeks.

Soon after, the timer on the stove went off again and as you pulled things from the stove, Morgan set out a few more pot holders onto the counter so that you could rest the lasagna there while the bread stayed on the stove.

“Thanks for the assist.” You told him before going to call the rest of the team in to get some food.

When you returned to the kitchen he was offering you a plate and after raising an eyebrow at him you took it gratefully.

“You cooked, it’s only fair you get the first serving.” He explained. “Also assists are kinda my thing.” His reference made you laugh and you tipped your head to him in acknowledgement.

“Fair enough.” You mused, heading to sit down on Auston’s loveseat, ready to dig into dinner since you hadn’t really eaten since breakfast. The baby monitor on the coffee table showed Owen in his crib and you sighed grateful that the baby was getting the sleep he’d missed out on this afternoon. Hopefully it didn’t mess his schedule up too badly.

Each of the guys stumbled back into the room, plates overloaded with food and you were grateful that you had seemingly gone overboard worried that it wouldn’t be enough. Morgan was the last to return and the only seat left was the one right next to you so he lowered himself into it trying not to topple the plate balanced on your lap.

Apparently all it took to shut a group of hockey players up was to provide food for them to shove into their mouths. NHL network played on the tv and while you were sure they were watching it, no one seemed too invested. Seeing as you had a normal person’s amount of food compared to their heaping servings, you were the first to finish and you placed your dishes in the dishwasher before tossing your now empty water bottle into the recycling bin.

The guys had pretty much decimated the food so you consolidated what little was left to one tray before working on cleaning up everything else. Having turned some music back on quietly, you sang along as you cleaned and after about fifteen minutes the sound of footsteps approaching finally appeared. Again it was Morgan, now carrying a stack of plates. When he reached you, he bumped you to the side with his hip.

“You cooked, we can clean up.” He insisted. You really didn’t mind but the look on his face told you not to argue with him. “Also, thanks, that was probably the best meal I’ve had in months.” The sincerity behind his compliment surprised you. All of the guys had thanked you for dinner and the way they were inhaling it told you it was good but Morgan was taking the compliments to the next level.

“You’re welcome. It really wasn’t anything that special.” You stated, downplaying your efforts as always. You knew that you could have just left them to fend for themselves by ordering pizza or chinese and maybe it was silly but you felt like Auston deserved better than that. He’d been balancing a lot on his plate and you knew he wasn’t eating the way he should most nights.

“Hey, I’m serious.” Morgan insisted as he finished rinsing each dish before adding it to the dishwasher. “Auston is lucky to have you as a friend. He’s told us everything you’ve done for him and we both know you didn’t have to. Shit we’re his teammates and I’m positive we haven’t done a fraction of the things for him that you have.”

Auston had thanked you time and again so you knew he appreciated you. At the same time though, Morgan’s acknowledgement felt different. Almost like he was really seeing you. Seeing you in a way that Auston never had.

“I’m gonna go check on Owen and then get back to my reading. Thanks for finishing up dishes.” You whispered, taking in one more glance at Auston’s teammate before slipping down the hall to the nursery. Owen was still asleep and you ran your fingers over his cheek before going into the spare bedroom and closing the door.

There were a million things you needed to do and you knew you should sit down and start reading again. Instead you took a moment and leaned back against the door, your eyes falling shut as you let out a shaky breath. “What the hell was that Morgan Rielly?”

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Sweet Dreams Chapter Eight

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just…darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time…she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 8.3k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hey guys! This is the second-to-last chapter :’) so we are really heading toward the finish line now! The next chapter will be pretty long I’m assuming, so I hope you’re looking forward to it! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Namjoon

I rubbed my bleary eyes, fighting a tension migraine, and adjusted the way my headphones sat against my ears. The desk chair in my bedroom had given me back pain after spending hours sitting, and even now on the floor in front of the coffee table I was uncomfortable. But it was impossible to stop once I’d started working on the song, as evidenced by the time of day. I’d been working since I woke up at 4 and the scarce had slowly bled into mid-morning as I slaved over hi-hats and bass lines.

I lolled my head back, pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers. “You going in to the office today?” asked Yoongi absently from the kitchen. I turned just in time to see him press the milk carton directly to his lips.

I scowled. “Ugh,” I said under my breath, followed by a long sigh. “Yeah, just for a little while. I’ve been finishing my work quick anyway so I don’t have much to do.”

“Bored?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, of course.”

“Maybe it’s time for a change,” said Yoongi, placing the milk back in the fridge and not awaiting my response as he tugged a hoodie over his head and slipped on his sneakers. “I’ll be at the studio if you need me,” he said, eyeing me over his shoulder.

I stiffened. “Oh, uh…yeah sure.”

“If you…you know, need anything…just drop by,” he said, and it was clear there was something wanting in his voice, something he was trying to say without saying it.

I gave a tight smile and nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Or if you’re bored…,” he continued, then sighed and headed out the front door with a gruff cough and a wave.

I chuckled as the door clicked shut and the lock sang its jingle. Quietly, I repositioned my headphones once more and focused again on my file. Things were coming together…strangely seamlessly. It felt like something only I could create, a song only I could make. And while the work at the office was consistent and reliable, it wasn’t like the same jobs that I’d been doing for years couldn’t have gone to Jungkook with similar results.

I guess being the creative director behind a piece of work made a difference.

But before I could dive back in, I caught my phone lighting up out the corner of my eye and, sighing, I grabbed it. As expected, another text from Hani. It had been a full day of nonstop barrages. It made me wonder when the poor girl had time to work.

Hani: I know it’s really selfish, but I just need to see you

Hani: someone who understands what I’m going through

Hani: you know?

Hani: Jesus, I’m being really desperate.

Hani: Listen, I know.

Hani: It’s annoying. I know.

Hani: But…if you even have a shred of affection left for me

Hani: Ugh, no, forget that.

Hani: If you can and you’d like to, I really really wanna see you.

I glanced over the three new messages that appeared rapid fire one after the other. I furrowed my brow, puzzling over what to do next. I hadn’t anticipated her being so persistent, but with everything going on at home it wasn’t so surprising. Taking a look at the clock above the TV I saw I only had about another hour to work before heading in to the office. With a sigh, I clicked my phone shut and flipped it over so the light wouldn’t distract me.

“Looking sharp today, Namjoon,” remarked Jungkook from his desk beside me.

I jumped a little and pulled my headphones down, raising my brows at him. “Hm?”

“Dressed nice,” he added, not once looking up from his computer screen. Between his teeth was a sausage stick, and his face was glowing an eerie neon yellow from whatever project he was looking over.

I took a look down at my outfit. It wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. But compared to how I usually dressed…

“Guess I’m nervous,” I said with a breathy laugh.

Jungkook cocked a brow, still focused on his screen. “What for?”

“I, uh…I have to talk to Jisoo today about something…kinda serious,” I said, chuckling as I rubbed the back of my neck. Yoongi was right. Perhaps it was time for something new after all.

At this, Jungkook finally looked me in the eye with round eyes. “You’re quitting?”

I coughed a little, caught off guard, and stared at him, perplexed. “Wh-no! Of course not,” I said, laughing a little as I patted my chest. “I just might…scale back my hours a little so I can work on some personal projects.”

Jungkook nodded. “Think Jisoo will bite?”

“I mean…it’s my schedule so I have the right to scale back as I need to,” I said, sighing. “And besides, there’re plenty of other employees who need my hours.”

Jungkook hummed, back to work, and tilted his head to the side. “Well, just don’t quit without telling me,” he said with a smirk. “You’re…kinda my favorite coworker.”

“I’m the only coworker you talk to,” I said with a laugh.

He returned it and sighed. “Anyway, you gotta go where the happiness is,” said Jungkook with a simple nod.

And it hit me then with his unpretentious words.

He was absolutely right.

I stared slack-jawed at him for a moment until Jisoo sidled up beside my desk, peering over my shoulder with a coffee cup in his hand. “What’re you two talking about?” he asked, sipping.

I glanced at him and cleared my throat. “Ah, sorry. We were just chatting,” I said, then stood to my feet.

Jisoo took a half-step back and glanced up at me. I always suspected he disliked speaking to me standing, as I was several heads taller. He coughed a little and averted his gaze, crossing his arms.

“Um, would it be alright to speak in your office? I’ve got something I wanna run by you,” I said, trying desperately to ignore the anxious, incessant voice in my head.  

Jisoo lifted his eyes to meet mine and shrugged. “Certainly,” he said, gesturing with one hand. “Lead the way”

Once settled in the comfortable plush chair opposite Jisoo’s desk, I took a small moment to prepare myself. The worse he can do is say no, I thought to myself, And I don’t need to give him any unnecessary details.

Jisoo settled down in his chair with a grunt and met my eyes again with a smile. “What’s on your mind?”

“Ah…,” I began, rubbing my hands together. “I was hoping I could scale back my hours.” Finally, I locked gazes with him and found him sitting blank with raised brows. “Um…just because it’s more forgiving for my personal schedule.”

“What kind of hours were you thinking?” he asked, lacing his fingers and resting his chin atop them. “We can definitely cut you some slack if you need it.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said, settling down just a little. I smiled. “Um, well probably closer to like three long days a week with days off in between.”

“Full days off?” asked Jisoo, cocking a brow. He chuckled. “You haven’t gone and gotten another job have you?” he joked.

I joined him in laughter, although mine was decidedly more awkward. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just…want some time to work on some…personal projects.”

“Hm…,” said Jisoo as he appraised me from across the desk. It seemed he’d caught on to my subtext, and it was clear from the way his eyes narrowed just slightly that he wasn’t all that pleased. “Well, pardon me for crossing any professional lines here, but you’re a good PD. Great at your job. And if you keep working hard here, there’re tons of opportunities for upward mobility.”

“I know, Sir,” I said with a nod. “And I’m really grateful you see potential in me.”

“Certainly,” he said, then sighed. “Provided you keep a level head.”

“Pardon?”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “When I was your age, I wanted to work on pop tracks for the big guys. I thought I had what it took.”

“You did?” I asked, and a sick feeling began swirling in my gut.

He nodded. “Everyone here does,” he said, then chuckled. “Well, maybe not Jungkook.”

I added a terse laugh. “Right…”

“At any rate, the industry is cutthroat,” he said with a somber nod. “It’s discouraging. Makes you feel like your talents aren’t worth anything.”

“I…see.”

He met my eyes once more. “It’s brutal out there, Namjoon. I just wanted to give you some advice as someone who’s been where you are now,” he said, tilting his chin down. “Someone’s gotta warn you against chasing after pipe dreams.”

“Pipe dreams…,” I repeated, letting my gaze fall to my lap.

He sighed and stood up, leading me to do the same. Crestfallen, I met his eyes again and found them softer now, somewhat kinder. He sauntered around the side of the desk to pat my shoulder twice. “Anyway, I’ll talk to Gowon about changing up your schedule.”

I feigned a smile and nodded, letting him lead me by the shoulder back into the glum, grey hallway.

I stepped through the stout shop door and into the pottery store, anticipating Jimin at the wheel or at least that small girl with the baseball cap. But instead, the shop floor was completely empty, devoid of any human life. I wondered if it was the time of day to blame, as the shop seemed pretty popular. It was noon after all. I was supposed to be working on my song during my lunch break, but as soon as I’d opened my laptop and pulled up the file, my chest had constricted and all ideas had fled my brain like they were desperate to get away.

In the end, I somehow ended up here…

It only took a few coughs to rouse Jimin’s attention as he came barreling out from the back room breathlessly. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were round. But once he saw that it was only me in the entranceway, his shoulders relaxed and he leaned heavily against the front counter.

“Jeez,” he mumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping by?” he asked, patting his chest.

I chuckled. “Sorry, I just…ended up coming.”

“Huh,” he said, righting himself and offering a smile. “No Hoseok again?”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s always busy with the dogs,” I said.

He smiled. “Shame. I was thinking I could tease him a little.”

“You could always tease me,” I offered, and Jimin only laughed. “What?” I asked.

Jimin flitted a hand and led the way to the backroom. Without questioning him, I followed easily behind like an obedient dog. “You’re definitely not weak against my charms like he is.”

I scoffed. “I don’t think he’s all that weak to them either.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got your designs back here in the workshop if you wanna see them,” he said, maneuvering around his employee who was sleeping soundly with her head pressed into what looked like another pottery shop smock.

I chuckled as I too slid past her. Again, I couldn’t get a proper look at her, but something about her kept my attention too long. The rhythmic rise and fall of her back as she breathed, the waves in her hair, restrained with an old newspaper elastic. I glanced down at the hairband on my wrist, still there after several days, and hummed. Should I loan it to her? Leave it beside her so she could wake up to a proper hair tie?

But for some reason I didn’t feel right about taking it off, let alone leaving it behind. So, sighing, I simply walked past where she sat on a wobbly stool, lying with half her body draped over a workbench, face entirely obscured.

“No baseball cap today,” I remarked, tearing my eyes away from her.

Jimin scoffed. “You’re not allowed to look at my employee like that,” he said.

I stiffened, blushing. “Like what?”

“Like she’s your person,” he said, then laughed. “Anyway, she’s been out of it all day. I think she went out drinking yesterday.”

I raised my brows. “She didn’t strike me as the type to drink regularly.”

Jimin laughed. “Oh me either,” he said. “And I don’t think she is, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to sleep through us talking like this.”

I smiled gently, glancing at her over my shoulder. “Hm…”

“Stop that,” he said, smacking the back of my head.

I jumped, giving him a glare, and sighed, following him back toward the other workbench. “Sorry.”

He smirked. “If I catch you even peeking at her again I’ll kill you,” he said, eyeing me sidelong.

I laughed, raising my hands. “I won’t. Promise.”

“Anyway,” he said, sighing, as he rifled through some sketches. He handed a large piece of drawing paper to me and pointed to one of the sketches. “This is the coffee cup you wanted,” he said, humming a little. “Thick handle so it won’t slip, made from earthenware so it’ll stay hot longer.”

“Nice,” I said with a smile. The sketch was lovely: a slender coffee cup, all black save for a gold ring around the rim, and shiny. “It looks like him.”

“Him?” asked Jimin. “So it’s a gift?”

“Mhm,” I said, chuckling. “He’s a picky guy and kinda hard to talk to at first, but…he’s really kind.” I remembered this morning, Yoongi telling me to come get him if I needed to. I still wasn’t sure what he was implying, but it felt like he was being nice anyway.

“Ah, and this is the flowerpot. More of like a vase I guess,” said Jimin, pointing to another sketch on the weathered paper. “It’s gonna be a little delicate. Is that okay?”

I smiled at the sketch, a tall vase for long-stemmed flowers with intricate designs on the sides. It was really pretty, at any rate. “It’s perfect.”

“Who’s this one for?” asked Jimin with a teasing smirk. “A girl?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh!” Jimin said, laughing. “No way, I nailed it?”

“My mom,” I said with a smile as Jimin deflated a little. “She’s living alone right now since my sister and I moved out. Figured I’d get her something nice.”

Jimin was quiet for a moment. “That’s really thoughtful,” he said with a nod.

I smiled. “Thank you,” I said, then turned once I heard the sound of shuffling behind us.

The employee, Eunbyul, had stirred awake and it seemed from her stiff upright posture that she’d done it suddenly. She was panting, at least it looked that way from behind, and Jimin was quick to address her. He approached quickly and tended to her, bending to look at her properly.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Jimin.

The girl nodded, and I tried not to let my eyes linger out of fear of Jimin’s wrath. This girl seemed like a little sister to him, and despite being small I had no doubt that Jimin was probably quite scary when he was serious.

I turned away as the girl began to look around, fearful of catching her eye. I instead focused my attention on the sketches, clearing my throat. “Um…yeah. Just…nightmare.”

“A nightmare?” asked Jimin gently.

“Mhm. I was…out in the woods. Like when I was a kid,” she began, then stopped short. “Forget it. Don’t worry about it, alright? I’m…gonna go clean up out there.”

“Eunbyul…,” said Jimin, but he didn’t seem to fight her as I heard her stool screech against the concrete floor and her footsteps retreat. Jimin sighed and at last I turned to face him again. “She seemed really spooked…,” he remarked, staring at the smock she left behind.

I joined him. “Something about the woods…,” I said with a nod. “When I was a kid, I had a scary experience in the woods too.”

“No woods around here though,” said Jimin, sighing as he glanced over his shoulder at the doorway to the shop.

“Maybe it happened somewhere else,” I said, then furrowed my brow. What exactly was that feeling in my gut? Like I was close to touching something hot, like the warmth was kicking up.

Strange.

“I’d better go,” I said, patting Jimin’s shoulder. He turned to face me with raised brows. “Lunch break,” I added with a smile.

He nodded. “Ah,” he said. “Well, have a good day then. I’ll text you when the pieces are done.”

“See you soon then, Jimin.”

“Yeah,” said Jimin, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. “See you.”

“Mom!” I called from the doorway, sighing. “I told you not to leave the front door unlocked.”

As if summoned by sheer force of will, my mother appeared around the corner from the hallway, hair a mess, eyes wild. Short and thin, she braced herself against the wall with a grin that seemed too powerful for her face.

“Could it be?” she called, rushing toward me to give me a big hug around the waist. “Our Joonie?”

I laughed and hugged her back, patting her shoulder. “It is indeed,” I said, smiling. “I was just thinking about you today during my lunch break and decided to stop by.”

“Well you’re just in time for dinner,” she said, leading me toward the kitchen and adjacent living room. “I was planning on ordering pizza.”

I laughed. “Pizza’s no good for you, you know,” I chastised with a smile.

She flicked my forehead and continued into the kitchen to grab the landline, pressing it firmly against her cheek. “When did you become the parent, huh?” she asked, cocking a brow.

I chuckled and settled into one of the creaky wooden seats at the table, glancing out the window at the beach. What the house lacked in practical decorum, it certainly made up for in views. I rested my cheek against my palm and listened as Mom detailed her order.

“One large cheese pizza,” she said, pausing for the person on the line to respond. When they did, she sighed. “Well, I just want cheese so why is it the same price as the Hawaiian one?” Again, she awaited response. And again she sighed, only this time she followed it with a disbelieving scoff. “Well pardon me, but isn’t ham and pineapple a hell of a lot more expensive than just cheese? Why do they cost the same? Seems like a scam to me. Maybe I should make a call to the Better Business Bureau,” she said, and I turned to see her examining a cuticle. “Ah,” she said with a sly grin and a wink at me. “I see, a coupon? And that applies to this order?” She waited once more before nodding. “Alright then, you’ve got a deal.”

She gave the employee the address and hung up the phone, triumphant. I laughed, rubbing my forehead. “Harassing service workers is what mean, old people do,” I said, cocking a brow.

She rolled her eyes and joined me. “He took an attitude first.”

“It’s not his fault the pizzas were the same price,” I said, smirking. “Also, I wasn’t aware that those kinds of places were open to haggling.”

She laughed and patted my forearm. “Anyplace is open to haggle if you’re persistent.”

“That is remarkably bad advice,” I teased and she joined me in laughing.

She smacked my upper arm and sighed. “This is why you paid full price for those knockoff sneakers in Myeongdong,” she said, smiling lightly.

I joined her, peering out the window as the waves left vague imprints on the sand as they receded. “Any word from Somi?” I asked, and I felt the air around us grow somber.

The jokes were over now, with a single question.

She rubbed her nose bridge, eyes shut, and shook her head once. “Unfortunately…”

“I know you’re worried,” I commented, eyeing her.

She shrugged, resting her cheek in her hand as she gazed out at the beach again. “Well, you know firsthand how hard it is to break out of a toxic relationship,” she said.

I stiffened, clearing my throat. “Ah, well…actually we’re done. You know we’ve been done for a while, but we’re…really done now.”

She glanced at me, brows raised. “Is that so?”

I nodded. “Yeah. She, uh…she broke up with me because I was too stiff. She said she never really felt close to me,” I said, then chuckled. “I guess it makes sense that I’d be emotionally distant with her, all things considered.”

“Well, like I said before it’s her loss,” Mom said, tossing her hand and rolling her eyes. “Anyone who doesn’t value you isn’t worth your time, kiddo.”

I smiled. “She’s a friend, anyway. That’s not gonna change,” I said, then shrugged. “Anyway, I think maybe she broke up with me hoping I’d fight for her. But…by then I guess I just became too docile.”

Mom sighed, running a finger along the wood grain of the dining table. “You wanted to fight?”

“Part of me maybe, but…,” I began, pausing to chuckle. “But there was a big part of me that felt kinda relieved. That it was all over, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Mom with a nod. “I never liked her anyway.”

I laughed. “I know.”

“Well, at any rate, you said it’s really done now so I’m happy.”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling a little as I noticed the hair tie on my wrist. Somehow, an image of that worker from Jimin’s shop came to mind. The girl in that photo on my phone. I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Can’t run from her forever, but I feel like…maybe I’m starting to set some boundaries. Real ones this time.”

Mom turned to me with a peaceful smile and reached out to pat the top of my hand. “That’s good, sweetheart.” Her smile remained in place as she retracted her hand and sighed. “I’m proud of you.”

Proud of me?

There were lots of stars. So many I couldn’t keep track of the constellations among them. The amusement park was bright, blindingly bright, but somehow the stars were brighter. I held my father’s hand as he led the way through the crowded walkways, pointed at the big stuffed anima prizes with a smile, laughed boisterously as I spun in circles, crying, on the carousel. His face was bright. Brighter than the stars.

He looked older than usual somehow. Fine lines and weathered face, and every now and again I’d look up to see his smile had slipped, replaced by a vacancy to the eyes, a lusterless dullness. Like a mask falling. But once our eyes met, he’d smile once more, dimpled, blindingly bright.

“Let’s take a break by the fountain, huh kiddo?” he asked as we approached the water sprouts, kids leaping through them.

I nodded, taking a big bite of my hotdog. I watched the sky, the horizon line punctured by trees and rides and ferris wheel. Another big bite, chomping down with my eyes squeezed shut.

Dad and I stood beside the fountain, and every few seconds Dad would check his wristwatch. There was an uneasiness radiating off of him, but it was impossible for me to feel it past the excitement and adrenaline of being in a place like this. It’s something I only noticed looking back.

“Ah, here she is,” said Dad as a woman in jeans approached, tailed by a girl a few years older than me and doubly shy.

I eyed the little girl, brows furrowed, and tilted my head to the side. “Stop looking,” she said under her breath, too quiet for either of our parents to hear.

Startled by her bluntness, I flushed and looked up at her mother, a slender woman with locked jaw and lowered brow. She looked severe and maybe a little familiar. Hair cut short and restrained by a baseball cap, arms crossed over her chest, leaning back as my dad began chatting restlessly with her in tones too low for me to hear. Or maybe too quiet for me to remember.

But it hit me slowly the longer I watched her as she listened to my dad. Who she resembled. My mom.

But that wasn’t possible.

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms, mimicking her posture, and took a step toward her, hotdog dripping sauce on the cobbled floor. “Who are you?” I asked, voice nearly lost to the sound of the kids squealing and the rides whirring.

The night air was fine, a little breezy, warm enough. But as she looked down at me, the woman broke into a small smile and the night felt bright again, somehow. I blinked at her.

“I’m Goeun,” she said, bending at the waist and placing both hands on her hips with a smirk. “I’m your mom’s big sister.”

I raised my brows. “Really? Mom had a sister?” I asked, before breaking into a grin. My hotdog fell from my grasp as I rushed to stand before her properly, rattling off questions at a mile a minute. “What was Mom like as a kid? Was she like me? Did she do well in school? Dad says she didn’t do well, but I don’t know if I believe him-,”

Goeun laughed and patted my shoulder. “Sorry to meet you so late, Namjoon,” she said, eyeing my dad with a frown. “I wanted to meet you sooner.”

I shook my head, beaming. “I’m happy to meet you!” I said, holding out my small hand for her to shake.

Laughing, she took it and gave me a smile. “About your mom…she was actually the good kid in the family if you can believe it,” she said, chuckling. “I was the troublemaker. Kinda why we’re meeting so late.”

I nodded. “Ah,” I said, turning to her daughter and pointing at her. “Who’s this?”

Goeun laughed and patted her daughter on the head. “This is my girl,” she said. “Sweetie, why don’t you introduce yourself to your cousin?”

The girl gave me a guarded look before sighing and reaching out a hand almost begrudgingly. “Nice to meet you,” she said through her teeth.

“You too,” I said with a smile. “I’m Namjoon,” I said.

She nodded and pulled her hand away, crossing her arms and looking away. “Somi,” she said.

I nodded. “Dad, why are we meeting here?” I asked, peeking up at my dad as he met my eyes.

There was guilt there.

Enough to stop me in my tracks.

“Dad?” I asked again.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Joon, you know how much I love you,” he said.

I nodded. “Mhm.”

“But…after your mom died…money’s been tight, you know?” he asked, bending down to look me in the eye. He crouched back on his heels. Looking at him close I saw the vacancy from before, deep in his eyes. My heart raced. “Dad’s been doing some…pretty bad business.”

I raised my brows. “What do you mean?”

“Stuff that you’re not supposed to do.”

I stared at him long and hard. “Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore.”

He sighed and patted my shoulder, smiling. “You’re right,” he said, eyes falling to the ground. “I’ve taken some money from some really bad folks, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Bad folks who want to hurt me,” he said. “Do you understand that?” he asked, eyes imploring.

I raised my brows. “I guess,” I said, then shook my head. “But why would they wanna hurt you?”

“Because I can’t pay them back.”

“Okay…”

“So that means,” he said, placing both hands on my shoulders. “That it’s not so safe for you to live with me right now.”

I stiffened. “Huh?”

“You can’t go with Grandma, since the bad folks know all about our family now,” he said, nodding. His eyes were desperate, irises shaking, wide. “But they don’t know Aunt Goeun. So, for a little while, I need you to stay with her. Back on the coast where she lives.”

“On…the coast?” I asked, throat tightening. “Away from you?”

Dad nodded. “For a little while, okay?”

I felt the tears beginning to pool in my eyes. “How long is a little while?”

“I…don’t know yet,” he said, sighing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Just…a while, okay?”

“No…,” I said, glancing between Dad and Aunt Goeun, eyes darting, backing up slightly and narrowly missing my fallen hotdog. “N-No,” I repeated, stronger this time, louder. Somi stared at me with wide eyes, and it was all I could do to hold in the tears long enough to turn on my heel and sprint away, toward the trees.

“Whoa, Joonie, you okay?” Mom asked as I jerked upright on the couch.

I rubbed my eyes, straining them against the dark living room. The only light was coming from the quiet TV and even that was too jarring after having just awoken. I glanced at her, her wide eyes, clearly taken aback.

I chuckled, breathy, and patted my chest a few times, sitting upright and clearing my throat. “Ah, damn. I fell asleep,” I said.

She smiled. “I’m not worried about that, kid,” she said, sighing as she reached out to pat my knee. “Seemed like a nightmare.”

I glanced at her for a long moment. Really looked at her. In a lot of ways, she was just the same as she was back then: plucky, headstrong, confident, odd. But in more ways than I could count, she was different. The woman I’d run away from all those years ago had grown to become someone irreplaceable to me. A caregiver, a confidant, a loved one.

A mother.

I smiled and patted the top of her hand, shaking my head. “It wasn’t,” I said softly.

She smiled back at me and stretched. “Well, good then,” she said, then raised her brows at me. “You staying over? I still haven’t gotten around to turning your room into my office.”

I laughed. “You’re never gonna,” I said, crossing my arms with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. “Someday.”

“Anyway, no. I should head home and work on-,” I began, but stopped short. What was I supposed to work on? My song?

After what Jisoo said…

I wasn’t so confident anymore.

“Well, I should head home,” I repeated, nodding.

As I approached the front door of the apartment, I saw a figure standing outside, arms wrapped around her slim torso, head down, long hair falling all around her. I lingered there in the hallway, slack jawed, staring at Hani as she checked her phone and rocked on her heels. How long had she been there? And, furthermore, how long was she going to wait for me to come home?

I glanced down at my own phone and saw a slew of new texts from Hani herself. Of course, I could have predicted as much. She seemed desperate enough, and I wasn’t giving her even a few minutes of my time to talk. As she stood there, I briefly considered turning around and taking Mom up on her offer to stay in my old bedroom.

But again, my eyes caught the hair elastic on my wrist. That employee came to mind, sleeping. She’d awoken from a nightmare too, hadn’t she? I wondered if it was just something in the air today.

But somehow, even recalling her sleeping head seemed to give me some profound sense of courage.

Quietly, I approached the front door and cleared my throat once I was within hearing distance. Hani jumped and turned to me with watery eyes, like perhaps she would cry if I said one wrong thing.

But wasn’t that the whole problem? I’d always been so terrified of saying the wrong thing to her, terrified of losing her, terrified of having nobody to give my love to, that I’d neglected my own wellbeing.

Not anymore.

I exhaled slowly. “What’re you doing here?”

Hani sniffled and reached out to touch my chest, but I leaned back, eyeing her seriously. “I-,”

“You can’t do that kinda stuff anymore, Hani. We’re not dating anymore,” I said, staring at her flushed cheeks.

She watched me with parted lips. “I…I know that, Namjoon.”

“Then start acting like it, okay?” I said, then sighed, rubbing my temples. “Let’s talk inside, okay?”

She sniffed and nodded, silently stepping aside as I punched in the door’s lock code. I led the way inside with Hani in tow, sighing as I collapsed against the sofa. It seemed Yoongi was holed up in his room, as music bumped lightly from behind his locked door.

“I…I knocked and Yoongi answered, but he told me you weren’t home,” said Hani as she joined me on the sofa, several spaces away, sitting perfectly straight.

I nodded. “So you waited?”

“Yeah…”

“Why?”

“Because we…we need to talk. Properly,” she said, nodding as she stared at me. She was dressed in house clothes, not her usual polished self. She looked a little sleep deprived, or perhaps just close to tears. “I’m really sorry for everything, Namjoon.”

I nodded. “I accept your apology,” I said, meeting her eyes. “You don’t need to feel bad or anything.”

She shook her head, rubbing beneath her nose. “It’s just…I guess I’ve been doing some thinking and I realized…I don’t think I ever really wanted you for the right reasons,” she said, nodding as her eyes fell to the rug. “Like…like I just wanted someone to stick with me even when I fucked up.”

I smiled softly. “Well, I was more than willing to stay,” I said, nodding. “And to be fair, I think I’m in the same boat. I…wanted to love someone, anyone, even if they weren’t the right person for me,” I said. “I was…desperate to feel validated, I guess. Feel worthy of someone’s time.”

“Why?” she asked, brow furrowed.

I shook my head with a smile. “It’s something I’m still trying to figure out,” I said.

She nodded. “I understand,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Um…I guess I just wanted you to keep proving how much you loved me, you know? Even though it hurt you.”

“I see.”

“And that’s what I’m most sorry for,” she said, nodding. “Especially now, with everything happening at home. I guess I just wanted someone to give me love. I wanted someone to love me even when I gave them every reason to hate me. That kind of love, you know?”

“I understand,” I said softly. We met eyes and I softened into a smile. “I really do. And…I don’t hate you.”

She returned the smile and nodded. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “I guess…I kept pushing you because I wanted to keep you on the hook. I wanted to know you were still there, still loved me.”

“And I do,” I said. “I’ll always love you, Hani.”

She turned to me with a soft, somber smile and nodded. “I know.”

“It’s just…different now,” I said.

“I can feel it,” she replied, watching her hands. “I could feel it since a while ago. That…someone else was taking up the space in your heart, I guess.”

I stiffened. “Hm?”

She turned wide eyes to me. “Is there not someone else?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No…,” I said, but despite myself, that employee’s slumped, sleeping form came to mind. My whole face flushed.

She laughed. “I don’t believe that for a second,” she said, then sighed. “At any rate, I’m really sorry. For all of it.”

“I’m sorry too,” I said, nodding. “For loving you in a twisted way.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Sometimes two people just aren’t good for each other, I guess.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“We can…we can be friends still, right? Or…is that too much?” she asked, almost shy as she eyed me from across the sofa.

I smiled. “Of course, Hani.”

She exhaled and patted her chest. “Thank Christ, that would’ve been so awkward if you’d said no,” she said.

I laughed and so did she, both of us locking eyes. “If you need anything, as a friend, I’m here, okay?”

She smiled and nodded. “Alright,” she said. “I think…I’m gonna go home and hang out with Sooyoung for a few days. Take her out, chat with her,” she continued, giving me a soft grin. “Be the big sister she needs, you know?”

“That’s a great idea,” I said.

She pushed her hair from her face and sighed. “I feel better.”

“Me too.”

“Well…I’d better get going then, huh? Sooyoung doesn’t stay up very late anyway,” she said, standing and patting her thighs.

I joined her, walking behind her as we meandered toward the front door. “Thanks for coming by, Hani,” I said as she made her way out into the hallway.

She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks for giving me the chance to talk it out,” she said.

I nodded. “Course.”

She patted my arm and smiled, waving as she turned on her heel. “See you around,” she said.

I waved back before shutting the door and returning to the couch. I began scrolling through TV channels, absentminded, and settled on a documentary about primates. But just as I began getting invested in bipedalism, Yoongi’s door swung open slowly and he emerged wrapped in a blanket holding an ancient I Love Seoul mug. He glanced at me, bowed his head in greeting, and shuffled into the kitchen where I knew a warm pot of nighttime coffee waited.

“Was that Hani?” asked Yoongi as he poured himself a cup.

I nodded. “Mhm. We finally settled things.”

“Hm,” said Yoongi, wandering back to the living room with a fresh mug of coffee. He stood beside the arm of the couch, squinting at the screen. “What’re you watching?”

“Nature documentary,” I said, pointing at the TV. “Oldest primate skulls.”

“Huh…”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi glanced down at me. “Shouldn’t you be working on your track?” he asked.

I stiffened. “Hm?”

He shrugged. “Just figured you’d wanna be working on it.” He paused and pulled his blanket closer around his shoulders. “And you never stopped by today.”

“I…didn’t need anything…?”

“Well, you should’ve stopped by anyway,” he grumbled, sighing.

I shook my head. “Why?”

“Might’ve been able to meet my boss,” he said, then shrugged. “Anyway, you should work on it. It’s got potential.”

“I…Yoongi, I think…I might have to put it on hold for a while,” I said, then sighed and shook my head. “No, I might have to put it on hold permanently.”

“Huh?”

“I…I’m nothing special, Yoongi. Not gifted like you. I make…mediocre tracks at best, you know? But…I’m good at my job. My boss says I could try for promotion if I keep working hard and honestly the stability-,”

“What about what you want, Namjoon?” Yoongi interrupted, eyeing me.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times before settling on closed. I crossed my arms and exhaled slowly. “I…I guess what I want isn’t that important in the long run.”

Yoongi hummed and shuffled back toward his room. But before disappearing inside, he turned over his shoulder and said, almost inaudibly over the sound of the TV, “Keep working on the song.”

“You’re awake?”

I rubbed my eyes and turned to see Eunbyul staring at me, sitting on her bottom, hugging her knees to her chest in the darkness. It took me a disoriented moment to remember everything, as it always did, but once I recovered my sentences I gave her a tight smile and sat upright.

“How long have you been waiting?” I asked, scooting toward her.

She seemed on edge as she rested her chin on her knees, leaning away just slightly. “Um…not very long.”

“Hm.”

“You, uh…did you have a good day?” she asked, not looking at me.

I shrugged. “Not especially, but…”

She sniffed a little, glancing away with squinted eyes. Her glasses were missing. “I see…”

“How about you?”

She was quiet, clearly stewing over something, before she inhaled sharply and let her knees fall, sitting cross-legged and staring right at me, gaze severe. “I’m sorry for being so sloppy last night,” she said, bowing her head and keeping it down for a long moment.

I chuckled, reaching out to smooth down the back of her hair with a smile. “Is that why you seemed so weird?” I asked.

She sighed. “Yes,” she said with a groan as she sat upright. “I really shouldn’t have had so much to drink.”

I smiled, rubbing her cheek. She winced a little. “It was cute.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cute, he says,” she said with a sigh. “Anyway, you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?”

She was quiet before shrugging. “I dunno. Generally when you start dating someone, I guess you wanna show them your good traits.”

I hummed and rubbed my tired eyes. “I guess so.”

Eunbyul sat staring at me for a long time, longer than I was used to, like she had something on her mind that she needed to expel. But before I could coax it out of her, she spoke. “Are you alright?” she asked, a gentle sort of sternness in her voice.

I sat up straight. “I’m…”

She sighed and nodded, standing to her feet. “Let’s go somewhere comfortable,” she said as she shut her eyes.

In an instant, we were transported to the bookstore Somi had taken me too. Eunbyul’s place. The lights were soft and mellow, and there was little sound save for Eunbyul herself as she pulled out a chair at the table by the window. The very same one she’d been at that day when I’d snapped her photo. Quietly, I joined her as she laced her fingers and rested her chin atop them, eyeing me.

“What’s going on?” she asked, squinting a little to get a good look at me.

I cleared my throat. “A lot, I guess,” I said with a sigh. “I’m…well, you know I’m working on that song, right?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“I just…I don’t know if it’s reasonable to hope that…,” I began, then stopped myself with a halfhearted laugh. “Forget it.”

She sat back, still maintaining a visual on me. “You wanna see how far it can go?” she asked.

I exhaled long and slow, eyes shutting. “Yeah.”

She was quiet. “Why don’t you?”

I opened my eyes wide and stared at her, but I saw not a single ounce of insincerity. “Huh?”

“I mean…the worst that could happen is you fail, right? And then you’re back where you started. Breaking even,” she said with a nod. “I guess…working at Jimin’s shop taught me that. If you mess up, it’s not the end of the world. Sometimes things don’t go right, but that’s no excuse not to try.”

“Byul…”

“I know it’s hypocritical since I’m scared to mess up everything, but…I really believe it. Or I’m starting to anyway,” she said then shrugged. “Go for broke and if things go wrong, at least you won’t regret holding back.”

I blinked at her. “You think so?”

“Mhm.”

I pinched my nose bridge, shutting my eyes. “That…makes me feel a bit better.”

She was quiet, pensive, for a moment before speaking again. “There’s more on your mind, isn’t there?”

I startled a little and glanced at her over the table. “Um…kinda.”

“Tell me,” she said with a gentle smile and I could do nothing but stare.

“Uh…,” I rambled before shaking my head. “Just…family stuff. I went and visited my mom today-er, well…my aunt? I guess, technically.”

She raised her brows. “Your aunt?”

“Yeah. I mentioned I have a sister, right?” She nodded. “Well, she’s…technically my cousin. But we’ve been together so long it doesn’t matter what we technically are.”

“How did that happen?” she asked, resting her chin in her hand.

“My mom…she was kinda the breadwinner in my family. Like, really hardworking and ambitious. Wasn’t home a lot, so I don’t remember much. But I remember when she died,” I said with a sigh. Eunbyul’s eyes went wide. “She was involved in a car accident. Unavoidable, really. Just…wrong place wrong time.”

“Namjoon, I’m so sorry,” she said, brows knit.

I smiled and shook my head. “Like I said, I hardly remember her. But…I guess when she died, my dad kinda fell on hard financial times. Reached out to loan sharks to pay back debts that my mom’s paychecks would’ve covered. And when he couldn’t pay them back…”

“Don’t tell me he gave you away,” she said, lowering her gaze.

I laughed. “No, not quite. Just…sent me to live with my aunt until things settled down,” I began, then paused and shrugged. “I guess…things didn’t ever really settle down because we never heard from him again.”

“What?”

I shook my head. “He’s alive,” I said with a shrug. “That much I know for sure. Every once in a while I’ll get a letter from the bank about his withdrawals. After my mom died, the account was supposed to go to me but since I was so young…”

“So he’s just…off somewhere living a normal life without you?” asked Eunbyul, and I could hear the disgust in her voice.

I smiled and reached a hand out to hers, holding it on the table. “Hey, it’s fine. Shit happens, I guess,” I said. “Anyway, I just…had an unpleasant dream today at Mom’s house. I fell asleep during a movie.”

Eunbyul stiffened. “I also had a nightmare today,” she said, shaking her head. “And since you were awake…I guess we didn’t share the dream.”

“Yeah…,” I said, then sighed. “All of it is too confusing.”

“What was your nightmare about?” she asked, eyeing me.

I pursed my lips, thinking. “Well…the day my dad left me with Goeun. We went to this amusement park in Sangdo-dong. The one I took you to,” I said.

She nodded. “I remember.”

“Well…he tried to hand me over to her that night, but I ran off,” I said with a laugh. “Thought maybe I could join the traveling circus or something. But I didn’t get very far.”

She smiled a faint, sad smile. “You ran away?”

“Only for the night and they were searching for me like crazy,” I said with a shrug. “I kinda just ran off into the woods and hoped for the best.”

“The woods?” she asked, back stiff.

I nodded. “Mhm.”

“I…those woods around the amusement park…,” she began, shaking her head as her brow furrowed. “I told you…when I was a kid, something scary happened near there.”

“I remember,” I said, suddenly dead serious. A chill ran up my spine, like my body knew something that my mind couldn’t accept yet.

She nodded. “I was out with my sister and we got separated,” she said, tone grave. “We got separated and I was lost in those woods for two days.”

I swallowed hard. The pieces were coming together. That night, those woods, 4:02 AM. “Eunbyul, I-,” I began, but in an instant I felt the tug.

She turned wide, horrified eyes toward me. “We have to figure this out now! Maybe it’ll make us remember!” she said, tone frantic as she shot to her feet. “Namjoon, were you-,” she tried to say, but the pull was too strong. Both of us lurched back into our seats.

And before I could say anything more, confirm anything more, I woke up to someone shaking my shoulders.

“Namjoon!” called Yoongi.

I sprung awake, panting for breath, eyes watery with unshed tears, and turned to Yoongi with my chest tightening. He stared down at me with furrowed brows, concern etched into his features, before stepping away and watching me from beside my bed.

“What happened?” I asked, glancing at the clock. 4:02 AM…

He sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said, but it wasn’t him that had me rattled. It was something more visceral, something I couldn’t quite name.

But it felt urgent.

I shook my head, raking my fingers through my hair with a sigh. “It’s fine. What’s going on?”

At this, Yoongi smiled, just a little. “It’s my boss,” he said.

I cocked a brow. “Hm?”

“I sent him your track while you were sleeping and…well, he’s interested.”

I leapt from bed, eyes wide. “He’s what?”

“He wants to see you in person and chat about bringing you onto the team,” said Yoongi with a smile. “No promises though! It’s a competitive market.”

I shook my head, barely containing my excitement. “I can’t believe it,” I mumbled. But as soon as the idea really began to hit me, something else hit me too.

Someone’s gotta warn you against chasing after pipe dreams.

I stared into the middle distance. “What’s up?” asked Yoongi, waving a hand in front of my face. “If you’re serious about this, we gotta go now before the studio opens for the day.”

I swallowed hard. What if it was just a pipe dream? Something unachievable and impossible? A wish that couldn’t be fulfilled? “I…,” I began, but someone else’s words came to mind.

Sometimes things don’t go right, but that’s no excuse not to try.

Could I really allow fear of failure to keep me from even trying in the first place? Was it really okay to force myself to be satisfied with a life that didn’t feel right for me? A life without fulfillment?

Wasn’t it better then…to give it a shot?

I turned my eyes to Yoongi who by then was swaying from foot to foot, eager to get going. We met eyes for only a moment before I nodded my head. “Give me ten minutes.”

[myyeslifeofficial]

The Top Mindset Lessons I Learned as a Military Spouse

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The Top Mindset Lessons I Learned as a Military Spouse

I became a military spouse at 24.

When I married my husband I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into.

I wasn’t raised around the military.

I had no idea what to expect from the lifestyle.

I just knew that I loved him and saw an incredible future with him by my side. 

My Unexpected Military Life…

But military life is hard.

Being a military spouse is hard.

Deployments, long work hours, weekend duty and all the stinking moves to new places far away from family and friends.

I could very easily get caught up on all of these challenges, the uncertainty…

…and wondering what the hell happened to to box with all the furniture hardware after the last move. (For real though, we really needed that box to reassemble everything!)

But I have learned not to.

I would say the first nine years and four duty stations as a military spouse were the most challenging. 

I created a lot of suffering for myself and my husband by fighting against the uncertainty, arguing with reality, giving my emotional power to external circumstances and refusing to ask for help.

(I’m not trying to say that the challenges I experienced as a military spouse are unique. It just seems that military life amplifies the challenge and uncertainties, often making them more frequent than civilian life).

Gave Me Unexpected Gifts.

Little did I know that through the greatest of struggles, I would also be blessed with the greatest of gifts.

Because I was open to learning, exploration, and growth through the challenge, I was able to learn these four mindset lessons as a military spouse: 

Surrender

Accepting What Is / Presence

How You Feel is a Choice

Asking For + Accepting Help

I realized that military spouse life gave me a crash course in figuring them out, long before many of my peers, and tons of opportunities to practice them along the way. 

Surrender

We trick ourselves into thinking that we control our lives.

We avoid uncertainty at all costs.

We think that if we can just plan for every detail, pick the safest and most secure option that we are in control and the outcome will be certain.

Thankfully, military life taught me that certainty and control are all but an illusion.

We never know when we are going to move next, let alone where it will be.

We rarely know with much advance notice when he will be deployed or on temporary duty, gone for months at a time.

So many aspects of family planning that most people take for granted are big, huge uncertainties in our lives.

Which makes planning more than a few months in advance a challenge. (We wanted to take a trip for our 15 year wedding anniversary but didn’t even feel secure enough for that…which is good because it fell during an international move!).

Which always makes you wonder if the couch you want to buy now will fit in the next place.

Which makes you question keeping the extra jackets or if you only be wearing flip flops at the next duty station. (No joke, we moved from Alaska to Arizona, thanks Air Force!).

We have always had to actively manage the uncertainty, or at least our emotions in reaction to not knowing or being in control of so many of the variables of our lives.

Even after 15 years my family still asks me if we know when we are going to move next, where we are moving, when he will be promoted to the next rank… and I always have to remind them that we just don’t know and won’t know until it happens.

But it’s from this place surrendering to radical uncertainty that I have realized just how much certainty is an illusion in life.

That secure job that you were downsized from?

That perfectly planned out career path that you ended up hating?

That perfectly healthy person who found out they have inoperable cancer?

That young mother who died in a car accident on her way home from the grocery store? 

There’s so many things in our lives that we take for granted that aren’t promised and are far from certain, no matter how much our brain tries to lie to us otherwise.

The best practice is to decide WHAT you want in life, WHY you want it and surrender the HOW.

Rarely does anything go according to plan, in the exact sequence you dream up.

But if you know what you want and why you want it you can start moving toward it and be flexible and adaptable along the way. 

Accepting What Is / Presence.

Byron Katie teaches “When I argue with reality, I lose—but only 100% of the time.”

There’s so many parts to military life that I could argue with (and did in the beginning!) only to create a ton of suffering in my mental and emotional space.

And it kept me from truly living in the present moment – I was arguing with the past and the future and all the ways I thought things should be.

We shouldn’t have to spend our first year of marriage in different countries.

Well, we did.

He was in Korea on an unaccompanied short tour and I was in the US.

We were honeymooners with a 17 hour time difference before there were so many free video and voice communication options on the internet.

It was hard, and I spent a lot of time arguing with how hard it was and how unfair it was when I saw other couples spending time together.

How dare he leave me, again, in a different continent than all my friends and family.

Well, he did, and not by choice, but because he was told to.

I was lonely. 

Yet I made it worse by resisting feeling sad and alone. 

I choose indignation and anger instead.

I was blaming him when he had absolutely no say in the decision. 

It’s not fair that I always have to give up my career aspirations to be the trailing spouse.

It seemed like every time I had a good thing going, making progress, we would get notice of another move.

Which often meant more than six months of lost wages and me feeling like an absolute loser because I wasn’t contributing and I had too much of my self-worth wrapped up in my career and job title. 

We spend so much time arguing with what is rather than accepting it.

It creates so much extra mental chaos and emotional drama.

Rarely do we argue with things that we can change or control, when the solution is to choose and control the thoughts and story we create about the circumstance.

Instead we play the victim and give away our emotional power, expecting everyone and everything outside of us to make us feel better. 

How You Feel is a Choice.

How we feel is a state of mind, not a destination.

So often I hear people say things like “I’ll be happy when…” followed by new cars, homes, jobs, relationships, income, and a whole mess of other external measures. 

Being stationed in Italy helped me realize that our emotional space has nothing to do with external circumstances.

Here we were in Europe, in the Italian countryside, where so many Americans save up often for their whole lives to visit, and fellow service members and their families were miserable.

Many of our friends we were stationed with still found plenty to complain about, would stay close to base and not adventure around Europe.

Here we were, given this incredible opportunity to see the world, and some people couldn’t even see what was right in front of them because they decided to be miserable instead.

Our emotions don’t happen to us, we choose them with the thoughts we think.

Happiness is an inside job.

This is replicated in so many research studies, where happiness isn’t correlated with income after basic subsistence level is reached.

Once people reach poverty level, happiness is no longer correlated with income.

It doesn’t matter what you achieve, what you earn, what you experience. It matters what you think and believe about those things, and the stories you make them mean.

A moment I felt the most achievement was when someone said to me “It doesn’t seem to matter where you and Jason live, you always find a way to have fun.”

I joke that if we get stationed in a few places he can have fun there without me. (I’ll leave them unnamed so as to not get hate mail from the locals LOL).

But in all reality I would follow him and we WOULD have fun.

We would be happy.

We would have a good time.

Because that’s what is important to us and we know that it’s an inside job and not contingent upon what our zip code happens to be. 

Asking For AND Accepting Help.

This was probably the hardest for me to learn…I am such an independent person.

I pride myself on being able to take care of myself.

To be the person who always gives and cares for others.

Until I found myself struggling with a once-debilitating chronic illness, my husband deployed, and being new to the base without any close friends to rely on.

I was accustomed to getting frequent headaches.

But one day I had the worst I had ever experienced, a migraine to end all migraines.

I left work after only an hour, went home and spent the next 8 hours on the bathroom floor.

Nauseated, confused, and completely disoriented.

I was too weak to know what was happening, let alone pick myself off the floor.

Luckily I had my cell phone with me.

The doggy day care place was about to close. My puppy needed to be picked up. And I was in no condition to drive.

I knew the only option I had was to ask for help. I called my neighbor, a new acquaintance, in a moment of complete vulnerability and weakness.

I told her I didn’t know what was wrong with me (because honestly in that moment I didn’t know).

She came over, picked me off the floor, got me to bed, and made sure I had what I needed before she left.

She picked my dog up, got him home, fed, and taken care of.

She checked in on me multiple times (and make sure that I didn’t need the hospital and to let the dog out).

I was embarrassed to ask, to be seen in that condition, to be perceived as weak or incapable.

But if anyone else had been in that situation I’d be the first to rush in.

I’d be happy to provide assistance and give comfort – without judgment.

To truly be good at giving, we must also be good at receiving.

To know and recognize that we all have hard moments.

To be grateful for those in the military community who are willing to help perfect strangers… 

Willing to pick us up in our most painful and weakest moments…

Knowing full well that they might need the same kindness in the future.

I will always be grateful to my neighbor, and now one of my closest friends.

She answered my call and graciously offered more help than I requested.

I now know there’s no shame in asking and receiving help, because giving is one of the very best experiences we can have.

If I fail to ask for help when I truly need it then I rob someone from being able to give with an open heart. 

Grateful for the Challenges

Now I’d even say that I’m grateful for our military life because of who I have become because of it.

I welcome each new move, each new deployment and all the uncertainty in between…

Because I know that these are the circumstances that help me grow mental excellence.

It’s not the circumstances that are the problem.

It’s my thoughts and beliefs about them, which create my emotional experience.

Now I know to check my thoughts about my circumstances.

Because that is what helps me surrender…

To accept what is…

To ask for help…

And choose how I want to feel. 

Being a military spouse isn’t easy, but I know I’m up for the challenge now.

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