#for your own sake really you guys should know. hard to promote a band people don't know how to look up LOL

[humanimalgam]

band doing an impromptu performance at the park played a really good set tonight, absolutely loved it. one of the best free shows i've had the pleasure of stumbling into. asked them what their name was and they actually spelled it wrong, which made them really hard to track down but i finally found their instagram after googling enough variants of it 👍👍 thank you to the band member who mentioned a double underscore in a social media handle, without that i fear i would have never tracked these guys down again

[ronsenburg]

i saw this post and IMMEDIATELY started writing an essay, so I moved it here so as not to clutter up someone else’s post...........

it absolutely blows my mind that, today in 2021, i honestly can’t remember what’s canon from the turnabout serenade case, what i read in a fanficition, and what is my own personal HC. like, it’s been more than a decade since i played the case for the first time and it’s probably been 5ish years since the last time i played AJ (definitely forgot to play it again before writing youngblood which is.... contributing to this) so i really don’t know if what goes on in my head is accurate, but, over the years, i’ve come up with a Lot of Thoughts, which i’ll discuss below. 

tldr; it’s all about power (the desire for, the subversion of, the need to maintain), but if you’d like the specifics, here you go:

daryan: i think the explanation that he did it for “the money” is a line. please don’t mistake me, daryan is an asshole and a murderer, im not discounting that, but in court ive always thought that he was playing the part that everyone- especially klavier- is expecting of him. he’s the bad guy. might as well make it a finale for the books.

i’ve always seen daryan and klavier as opposite sides of the same coin when it comes to family and career aspirations. where i imagine klavier came from a well off and well loved family before his parents died, i see daryan from a working class, difficult upbringing. i read a few papers on the psychology of children/parenting style of police officers and decided early on that daryan’s dad was also a cop. his mother is either dead or (more likely) left them early on. dad coped by working a little too hard, gambling/drinking a little too much, and was overall not around a lot and kind of an authoritarian/controller when he was. it left daryan with a lot of anger he had to cope with, about what it means to be a cop, the idea of a “just cause” and the ends justifying the means, and an issue with authority (which is laughable, considering what a bully he turned out to be. sometimes we emulate our parents unintentionally; it’s the only thing we have to model our behavior on). so daryan started off at a disadvantage. klavier started off loved and supported and surrounded by expensive belongings, but the death of his parents and the subsequent emotional and financial abuse by his newly appointed guardian/brother left him in a similar place by the time he and daryan met. i think it was probably the foundation for their bond, and i think it’s why klavier decided to become a prosecutor instead of following in his brother’s footsteps and why daryan ultimately decided to enter law enforcement as well. i think they had a lot of optimistic, idealistic thoughts on being better than the people that hurt them, on utilizing the law to make the world a better place. i don’t think klavier ever conceived that kristoph could have wanted him in the prosecutors office as another pawn to play, and i don’t think he realized how fluid daryan’s morality could be.

shipping alert—you guys know me, im crazy for the idea of a “best friends to on again off again lovers to tenuous coworkers to bitterly disappointed in but still harboring feelings for the other person despite being on opposite sides” dynamic between daryan and klavier. i honestly can’t separate the ship from the case and im sorry about it. if you read youngblood you know that i think daryan started to resent klavier pretty early on, when they were still together, when the band was still successful, because klavier was able to move forward and work through the issues of his past while daryan was seemingly stuck. yes, daryan had made detective and the gavinners were a hit, he’d risen above his initial social standing and thrown off the control his father, he had money and fame and a future. but everything he had was because of klavier. daryan needed klavier, emotionally, morally, financially. but even when klavier was professing his love for daryan, both privately and in the form of chart topping songs, he didn’t need daryan. it was obvious (and of course, healthy, but how do children of abuse learn what a healthy relationship looks like without help? especially when the only relationships you’ve ever had are codependent and, in some ways, just as toxic?) and so things spiraled. daryan got possessive and angry again and klavier got distant and they broke up and got back together and broke up and didn’t get back together but kept ending up back in each other’s arms for comfort and for support and because how the hell do you move on when the person you’ve been in love with since you were 15 is sitting next to you on a tour bus and is also your partner in a homicide case and singing songs he wrote about you on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans?

okay, shipping glasses off, sorry. but no matter how you look at their relationship, daryan’s promotion out of homicide was probably the most distance they’d had from each other in years, as it removed a large chunk of the daily “working relationship” aspect. and without klavier there to act as a moral compass, it was likely easier to slip back into his earlier thoughts about what constitutes justice and his intense hatred of being pushed around by someone who has more power than you. so enter the chief justice with a son who is sick, dying even, but can’t get the medicine he needs because there’s a government out there telling them no. The reasons are arbitrary: the medicine could be used as a poison and can’t be found anywhere else so it might come back to bite the country in the ass if it’s misused by criminals. newsflash: pretty much all medicine is poisonous if it isn’t used correctly, should we stop using penicillin entirely because some people might be allergic to it? they’ve essentially condemned a whole bunch of people to death because they’re worried about their reputation. and that doesn’t sit well with daryan, who is caught up remembering the bullshit justifications his dad would spout when he knocked him around, that kristoph would give when withholding every single penny of money klavier was entitled to until he agreed to do what kristoph wanted. it isn’t right, it isn’t fair and unfair laws shouldn’t have to be upheld, especially when they’re the unfair laws of a country you most definitely did not swear to uphold and protect. it was never about money, though daryan agrees to take it when the chief offers it to him, more for his comfort level than for daryan’s need or desire. it’s about justice and putting a bully in it’s place with a (seemingly) victimless crime that should be so easy given his role in the international division of criminal affairs and klavier’s sudden hard on for the country of borginia. seriously, how could this have been any more straightforward? daryan is capable of murder, though. all cops are. and if it came down to a “them or me” shootout, of course he’d pull the trigger. 

machi: when you come from nothing, the desire to have something of your own is overwhelming. the idea that machi is famous and financially set is disingenuous; he is not individually famous, he is Lamiroir’s “blind” pianist. yes, she views him as a son and seems to care deeply for him, but his main purpose in her life is to perpetuate a lie. machi has been abandoned before; what will happen to him if lamiroir suddenly remembers who she was in the past? what if she has a family and a true son of her own and has no use for him? what if their secret is found out and the public rejects him for his role in it? he is 14. what does he know about being provided for? about contracts and trust funds and royalties? he ended up in an orphanage originally because he was unwanted, and that led to a life of poverty and hardship. abandonment issues are rooted in fear and are rarely logical. i find it far easier to believe that machi did it for the money, but more for the power money might have given him towards independence in an unfeeling and capitalist world.

kristoph: i won’t get into this, because this is supposed to be about daryan and machi and the guitar’s serenade, and kristoph is not really involved in that at all. but i think everything that kristoph has ever done in the game, good or bad, is rooted in a pathological need to constantly be in control. i think that kristoph and klavier both have very intense personalities that they have sought to control over the course of their lives for the sake of their careers. kristoph believes that to be a good lawyer, you need to play your cards close to your chest, that to show your hand is to expose a weakness that the enemy can exploit, that to show no weaknesses at all places you in a position of power. klavier believes that to show his true self, to display his weaknesses and fears to the public, would result only in their rejection. as such, they both wear masks of their own creation even under the most intense of pressures: kristoph as pleasant and calm, klavier as magnetic and dynamic. note the primary difference in their rational? klavier wants to be wanted, while kristoph wants power. and power corrupts, after all. once you have it, what could be more overwhelming than the idea that you might lose it all? it can drive even the most rational people to commit acts of passionate irrationality in the name of holding on to that power. and kristoph has so many pieces involved in his strategy to maintain.  

[dragonslaved]

Raise Your Glass

fandom: the magnus archives chapters: 1/? word count:   2238 language: english

summary:  tim is a streamer and jon is his moderator do not look at me

read on ao3

“Don’t forget to like and subscribe!”

There is a tasteful five seconds of music jingle before the video cuts. Jon sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose where his glasses sit. It’s one thing to moderate the streams, but there is a different kind of hell to editing them for a youtube VOD upload. Tim, thankfully, always makes sure to record a bit of additional off-stream footage to have at the beginning and end of each video for Jon to patch in, but it’s still a pain. Cutting out footage is easy enough, particularly for highlight cuts. But the four to five hours of raw recording is hard to edit, particularly when those watching the VODs can’t see the commentary made of the chat.

How he got talked into this is beyond himself. Something about Martin already working multiple jobs so he can only moderate a few nights a week. Tim, of course, has other things going on handling his own promotions and PR. Sasha took one look at what Tim was doing and decided she wanted nothing to do with it. It may have been smart on her part, if not for the fact he knows she’s doing some occasional tech work for Melanie’s crew.

Jon goes through these same mental conversations with himself every week when he’s collecting all the ‘Best Of’ clips together and splicing them into something resembling a coherent narrative.

But in Tim’s defense, the man is very good at reacting. Perhaps that was why his channel was doing well. Tim’s got the natural charisma and personality to draw in an audience, he’s interactive with the viewers, highly reactive to whatever’s happening in the game. It works. And Jon is, for better or worse, not a bad moderator for the chat.

No, the arrangement sadly, unfortunately, worked out very well for them both. A good following on the streams, and a moderate viewership on the video uploads later. And Jon did take some joy in adding a few personal editing touches to surprise even those who had been present for the stream watching playbacks. An occasional bit of text highlighting something, or an artful zoom in on something Tim missed that made the game harder for him for having looked it over.

Jon thinks fondly back to that half year Tim had considered being an influencer instead. It was a different kind of long-term work, but then again photos did not exactly get Tim’s personality through. No, video was best. And unscripted video was the purest, most distilled Tim an audience could want.

“-on?”

Tim pulled one earphone off, and Jon nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jon. Been calling for a couple minutes now. You’re really in the zone, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he stammers, pulling the headphones off completely and resting them around his neck. “S-sorry, what is it?”

“Just checking how it’s going. Brought some coffee if you need it. I know it was a longer one, but I appreciate the work.”

Jon looks from him, to the mug in his hand and takes it with a quiet, “Ah.” A test sip and it’s still much too hot. “Thank you, it, um. Just about finished. Should be ready to upload in the morning at the usual time.”

“Thanks, mate.” Tim’s smile down at him could brighten the world. Maybe just Jon’s; he has to avert his eyes back to the program before his face heats up as much as the coffee in his hands. “You aren’t putting in snarky commentary in the text again, are you?”

“Would you be mad if I was?” Maybe a little too-hot-coffee is worth hiding the sly grin on his own face.

“I’d say go for it. Just be a little kind this time?”

“Maybe you should play something that isn’t a horror game next time.”

“I can’t help it. People love it, it’s what they vote for.”

“Oh, they do. But imagine the shock they’d have seeing you play something competently. Like a strategy puzzle game.”

Tim leans over his shoulder to look at the editing so far, hand on his other shoulder. “It’s not as engaging for the viewers though. People like watching someone be bad at a game.”

“Perhaps.” Tim’s always been one for casual contact, but it still makes Jon a little nervous. Not in a bad way, but in that way he hopes Tim never feels how hot his face gets. “But sometimes watching someone be exceptional at a game is worth a lot too.”

“Maybe… Wait.” Jon watches Tim slide the preview cursor back over a section, then over it forward again. “Are you kidding me?! I missed that key?”

So maybe Jon does see some joy in watching Tim be bad at things. He doesn’t try to hide the smile this time.

“You did.”

“You could have at least SAID something at the time! I wandered for an hour before moving on!”

“I take a more hands off backstage approach to moderating. It’s why you like me doing it.”

“God- Of all the-” Tim cuts himself off, watching the twenty seconds of footage again a few more times. It’s clear to anyone that knows him that Tim is memorizing the spot. Likely to do it again on his own time and do it properly.

That was something to be admired about Tim. Sure, he’ll put on an act and goof a bit for streams. But when he really cared about doing something well, he always put in the effort. The man could be determinedly serious about anything he really put his mind to. He usually succeeded.

But for the sake of Tim’s pride… “Would you like me to cut this bit out?” It’s tentative, an offer if Tim would rather Jon not include some of his more egregious mistakes. Tim only sighs.

“No. No… Leave it in. It’s fair to point out, and it’ll be funny in a few days.”

“So you’re saying it’s not funny yet.” “No. Not yet,” but even Tim can’t hide the smile in his tone. At least the man’s always had a good humor about himself. “Hey, Jon.”

He’d been distracted watching Timothy’s eyes and the way the monitor light hits those dark warm brown hues just so. “Hm?”

“I think we just hit a milestone last stream. What, something like two years now? What do you say we go out tonight and celebrate?”

“Oh. Um. I mean, we can, sure. I can meet you. The usual place?”

“Yeah. Bring your group while you’re at it.”

Jon stops the instinctive jolt. “Sure. I can. Bring them when we’re finished.” He forgets Tim knows about that.

“Great!” Tim gives a firm clap on the shoulder of Jon’s he’d been leaning on. “Can’t wait.”

The next morning comes with a loud and unignorable hangover. The curtains have, by some blessing, been pulled closed around the flat. Tim no doubt having some sympathy. Jon doesn’t always drink quite that heavily, but it was celebration and after a show. His group had only encouraged it, that much he remembered.

Well. His friends were likely assholes to his waking mind right now. No, the only friend Jon has right now is a hot cup of coffee at this hour of the morning. The warm bed calls to him, but he had made promises.

“Oh, coffee,” he coos over a sip as he sits at the table. “If I hadn’t promised Tim I’d work, we would not be meeting at this time. Just you and me and the algorithm this morning.”

The number of emails is alarming. All new subscribers or followers to the channel itself. There shouldn’t be such a surge after an off day. Had someone promo’d him while they were out last night? Well. This was part of Jon’s half of the job, figuring out where all this came from and determining if it was worth it to pursue further or not. A sip of coffee down and he gets to work.

“What… Is this.”

He adjusts his glasses, squinting at the screen and through the migraine. “Tim didn’t stream last night, we were at the pub…”

Contrary to what Jon knew, there was a history showing Tim had streamed for at least an hour last night with a fair amount of viewers at the time. Right around the time they were at the pub…

“What did you do.”

A couple quick clicks into the video history and there is absolutely a video from last night. The preview image alone has Tim in the pub, the camera facing a small crowd and some lights. His finger hesitates. What happened last night. What did they do.

Play.

The camera is shaky and trying to focus on Tim’s face. He was always a little - no, a lot - excitable when he drinks out. It eventually finds his face and settles in a steady shot, a crowd behind him and the lights are stage lights. “Hey, guys! So a surprise stream while we’re out. See, me and Jon came out to celebrate two years of the channel! They’re about to start, hold on.”

He moves his face out of the frame to show a small indoor stage with the lights focusing down and Jon can feel a sense of dread creeping up from his gut.

“Tell me we didn’t….”

The video keeps going, the chat wondering what’s going on, Tim almost never streams outdoors or anything like this. Question mark emojis fill the chat as Jon watches his drunken self climb on stage, flannel shirt and hair loose, guitar being strapped around him.

“Oh god.”

His last-night-self greets the crowd and thanks them for the short notice allowance of his group to play. Oh god, he must have been so drunk to agree to this. His band mates clambering up behind him and setting up. It’s only a few minutes before they start playing. Jon thinks for just a moment that maybe the chat doesn’t realize. Maybe they think Tim is just sharing a local band or something. The question marks continue until someone figures it out.

“Holy shit is that jsmod???”

It fills up. The whole chat fills up with shock and confused emojis. It goes so fast Jon can’t quite catch all the comments. And then it’s genuine support and excitement. No one had any idea Jon, the strict, quiet moderator, was the lead in a band.

Oh god, it was one of their more boisterous songs.

“That’s Jon! That’s his band! Haha, god it’s good to hear him sing again. Think we can keep them going for a bit, I’ll keep the stream going for now!”

Tim sounds entirely too giddy with this turn of events. And true to his word, the crowd somehow kept them on stage performing for a little under an hour. The video ends with Tim brightly thanking chat for joining on the surprise stream, and Jon has his head in his arms, tugging at his hair.

He may not recover his dignity from this.

“Go~od morning, boss!” Tim’s voice carries through the haze of irritation and fogginess with the tone of someone who committed crimes the night before and absolutely does not care.

Jon’s own voice comes through his pile of arms and oversized hoodie and hair, “I’m not your boss.” He can just faintly hear the sound of another cup of coffee being poured behind him, and then the quiet steps of Tim coming to sit next to him.

“You may as well be my manager with all the work you do behind the scenes handling my things.”

“If I were your manager, I’d fire you.”

The beat of silence falls between them heavy and expectant.

“Why-”

“The stream, last night, Tim!” Jon nearly explodes with it, his head shooting up and arms out, nearly hitting Tim in the face. “Why did you do that!”

For his benefit, Tim almost looks sorry.

“I… You said I could.”

“... What.”

“I asked if you were going to go play, and you said yes since the gang was there. I asked if I could stream it and you said yes.”

“I never would have agreed to that.”

“You did, though.”

The worst part about it is Jon cannot remember it. Jon, drunk, is a bit unpredictable at best. He may very well have agreed and he would never remember. God damn him.

“Fine. Fine, then this is me, sober, telling you now. If I, any time in the future, try to say it’s all right to film me playing: do not listen to me then. I am saying now do not film me.”

Tim’s eyes are focused intently on him. Really taking that in before nodding and voice gentle, “All right, Jon. Whatever you like.”

“Thank you, Tim. This isn’t going in the compilation by the way.”

“Nope, of course not! Not if you don’t want it.”

Jon runs a hand through his hair, looking at the analytics. “...That said. It did get you quite a record viewers for a surprise stream.”

“Oh yeah?” Tim finally gets up to lean in and look. Gives a low whistle. “Didn’t realize we’d done that well.”

“Hit a new milestone of subs as well.”

Tim gives his shoulder a gentle nudge with a crooked grin. “Sure I can’t talk you into letting your sets become a regular spot?”

“Tim.”

“All right! It was just a question.”

[rkxsungwoon-blog]

☆ MGA5 EPISODE FOUR; JULY 18 #5008 HA SUNGWOON ; interview

for the first time since he entered the competition, sungwoon faces the post performance interview with apprehension. his unease is apparent from the moment his name is called, and even the staff remark on his subdued attitude as they fix up his makeup. the smile on his face is fake, more for their sake than his own. “i’m fine,” he says cheerfully. “just… indigestion.” no one questions him too closely, and he keeps the painfully insincere grin in place as he enters the interview room and greets the interviewer. 

he has no real strategy for how to approach this, no idea what she’s going to hit him with this week. no idea how he’s going to answer, either, but a manic voice in sungwoon’s head tells him that he has nothing else to lose—so go with honesty for once in his goddamn life.

what were your thoughts on last week’s results? one of your band members, minhyun, was eliminated from the competition, wasn’t he?

of course they would begin with this. a familiar formula, yet he blinks, taken aback. perhaps because his mind isn’t fully present, and he has to work to pull his thoughts away from the churning guilt and mortification ever present in his mind. “the eliminations came as a shock,” sungwoon says plainly. “the top three were expected—mason, sia, and suwoong have all proved themselves already, and i think their partners definitely benefited from being paired up with them.” mason carried his duo in particular in sungwoon’s opinion, but he thinks that much is obvious. “so yeah, no surprises there. the eliminations were a different beast, though. i thought jinyoung and jeonghan should’ve been in the top three.” objectively, their performance was one of the best in his eyes. “yuqi and minhyun should’ve been safe too, but i guess my sixth sense failed me last round.”

he looks down at his hands, then back up with a distracted smile. “the shot at redemption… i’m not sure how to feel about that twist, but like everyone else, i’m eager to see who survives.”

are you hoping minhyun will return?

“i am.” he nods once, thinking that it would be poetic justice if minhyun returns just as sungwoon leaves, but the thought of empty enigma on the show without him hurts and he abandons it altogether. “of course i’d like to see him advance; he’s a talented performer and he deserves to be here. he’s versatile, he’s handsome, and he has a great personality. also, he recycles. isn’t he perfect?”

is it fair to say minhyun deserves to be here when some people question your band’s intentions in this competition?

his lips press into a thin line. “you’re talking about what eric said, right?” the interviewer nods, and sungwoon shrugs. “isn’t that a question for daniel? he’s the one who got called out.”

but the rest of your band was included in their comments as well.

“‘the band guys,’” sungwoon says, enveloping the phrase in air quotes before letting his arms fall to the sides. “you know, i’m kind of getting tired of it.” he hears the same sort of thing in interviews week after week. reads the same sort of thing online with netizens commenting on ‘daniel and the band’ like they’re one single entity. and god, it isn’t daniel’s fault that mnet seems to have made him the face of empty enigma. sungwoon doesn’t blame him for it—daniel deserves the attention and recognition he’s getting. but it is exhausting to feel like his contributions don’t matter. like he doesn’t matter. “it’s understandable to question our intentions, but i believe it’s disrespectful to pretend we’re not working as hard as anyone else here. we’ve earned our place through our own talents.”

his voice is even, controlled, the expression on his face mild. sungwoon doesn’t say that eric’s words have made him question what he’s doing here—because he’s not entirely wrong. they do want to promote the band, but he doesn’t understand why taking pride in their accomplishments is coded as a terrible thing. after all, people can have more than one goal. sungwoon doesn’t confess that the first thing he did when he arrived in seoul was audition to be an idol. he doesn’t point out that last year, he participated in the mgas without revealing his band, for all intents and purposes a genuine idol hopeful. he doesn’t admit that he wants to be here, even if eric is right and he’s taking a chance away from someone else.

(someone like minhyun).

sungwoon is a practiced enough liar that he doesn’t let any cracks show. “i can’t speak for everyone else’s intentions, but i know we all have our own reasons for being here beyond just promoting the band. we’re not a hive-mind or a homogeneous blob, even though people talk about us like we are. we’re individuals with our own goals and desires outside of our band too.” he plays with his frayed cuffs, picking at an errant thread as he speaks. “i mean, most of us have been pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones and performing in ways we never would in a band. we wouldn’t do that if we weren’t taking this seriously.”

he takes a deep breath, his smile turning sardonic as he leans forward. “and i want to say—if i have the decency to learn the names of everyone in the competition, i think others should make an effort too.” sungwoon holds up a hand and counts down. “sungwoon. woojin. kenta. minhyun. we’re not just ‘the guys’ or ‘the others’ or ‘daniel’s band.’ use our names next time you want to talk about us.”

moving on, you were paired with eunji this week. how was it like working with her?

his smile is a little more sincere at the mention of eunji. “she’s talented. seriously talented. we already knew each other prior to the competition—we’re neighbors—and working with her was both fun and easy.” he wants to laugh as the memory of their grease failures come to mind. “we were originally going to do grease’s summer lovin’, but we couldn’t keep a straight face while singing.” chuckling slightly, sungwoon runs a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why though; i think i could be a good danny zuko?” sungwoon gives the camera a winning smile before turning back to the interviewer. “really, it was great. rehearsal was never dull, and i think we sound really good together too. i’m so glad we were paired together.”  

how do you think your performance went?

sungwoon fights to keep his expression neutral. how do you think it went? he wants to ask, but refrains. humiliation still burns under his skin, but the anger at himself, at the whole situation, has faded. instead he’s caught somewhere between resignation and guilt for what this could do to eunji. maybe if he doesn’t discuss their mistake, the interviewer won’t press for details. with that in mind, he decides to stick to the positives. 

“i haven’t sung many showtunes before; i’m not familiar with musicals in general,” he admits. “but i wanted to challenge myself to try something new. i don’t know when else i’ll get the chance to experiment with different styles of music like this again.” his face falls a bit, but he fights to pull it back up. “eunji’s a phenomenal singer, so singing with her wasn’t hard either. it felt very natural to sell the whole story of the song.” he laughs and rubs his nose. “i mean, it’s not hard to pretend you’re falling in love with eunji, so i think we captured the essence of the number.”

you made a mistake, though. what went wrong?

he visibly deflates. bold of him to think mnet would let him pass without addressing this in some fashion. arms falling to his sides (flailing, despite his best efforts), sungwoon sucks in a deep breath. “we went over the time limit. unfortunately, we didn’t realize we’d been practicing with the wrong backing track all well.” lifting his head, he adds, “i’m not trying to make excuses for us. i understand that it’s extremely unprofessional to make a mistake like that. i’m disappointed in myself for not catching it sooner. i’m disappointed that all people are going to remember of our stage in the future is our flub. that’s not the impression i want to leave people with.”

another deep breath. he grips the edge of his seat. “none of this is eunji’s fault. i hope my mistake doesn’t reflect badly on her because she’s an amazing performer. even if we get eliminated, i want people to know that—she’s worth supporting till the end.”

is there anyone you are certain will move onto the next phase of the mgas?

sungwoon takes a moment to gather himself before responding. “suwoong and kyulkyung. suwoong impressed me; he showed a completely different side of himself, and he and kyulkyung compliment each other really well. their performance was… electric and intimate. i genuinely think they deserve to win today.” he’d been critical of whether suwoong was taking this competition seriously in one of the earlier rounds, but he can feel his sincerity now. “i also hope yukhei and woojin go through; i thought their performance was fun and they balance each other out well.”

is there anyone you are certain will be eliminated today?

“us.” this is the first time sungwoon has ever answered the question. “if the judges hold us to our mistake,” here he pauses and gives the interviewer a self-deprecating smile, “and i think they should, it’ll be us.” joohyun’s elimination hurt, but sungwoon understood it. he’d understand them being sent home as well. turning to face the camera, sungwoon stands and bows before saying, “i’m sorry, eunji.” sungwoon can’t bring himself to say more, his throat suddenly dry.

the interviewer seems to sense as much and thanks him for his time. sungwoon bids her farewell and returns to his seat. he’s oddly tired, but the full weight of today hasn’t crashed into him yet. he suspects he’ll feel worse after the eliminations, but for now, sungwoon looks down at his feet and waits.

[pickalilywrites]

Hi! I love your fics so much

🍻♥️

Best Man

Springlestein. Canonverse. 

1423 words.

Jean enters the bar ready to search the crowded place for his friends, but it turns out that he doesn’t need to look for long. He’s greeted with cheers of “Jean! Jean!” like he’s a goddamn war hero that has just returned from the outside instead of a simple guy meeting his friends for drinks. His friends, being quite loud, make it easy for him to find them.

“Oh, Jean! Over here!” Sasha calls, waving a hand. She’s so eager to give him a hug that she knocks into the table as she gets off her seat. If Connie hadn’t been there, their drinks would have spilled onto the floor.  

“Did you have to call me so loudly? Half the people in this pub are looking at me now,” Jean grumbles, but he accepts Sasha’s hug even though she runs into him with a force that almost makes him fall over. He can tell that she’s had a couple of drinks already by the way she sways. He has to be the one to lead her back to the table, helping her back into her chair where she happily returns to her beer.

“How are you doing, Jean?” Connie says, grinning with a lop-sided smile. It seems he’s already had a drink or two as well. His cheeks are flushed red they normally do when he’s a little drunk. “Good day at work, Mr. Squad Leader?”

“It was as good as any other day,” Jean yawns. He’s always about ready to pass out on his bed after he’s done with work. It’s usually just business meetings and paperwork along with meeting and training the new recruits that seem to be pouring in now that the Scouting Legion has begun to successfully reclaim the land beyond the Walls. He had been promoted to the position of squad leader a few months after the return to Shiganshina and it was a lot more work than he had thought it would be, but at least he has Connie and Sasha to keep him company. “So what’s the occasion for drinks today?”

“We’re celebrating!” Sasha cheers, lifting her glass of beer, the golden liquid sloshing out of the sides.

Connie takes his glass and raises it up against hers and the two of them take a sip, perfectly in sync.

Jean can only roll his eyes, his own drink left untouched. “You’re always celebrating something. I wouldn’t be surprised if you guys told me you’ve turned into alcoholics,” he snorts.

Connie ignores Jean’s comments, used to hearing things like this from him. Instead, he lifts his glass up towards Jean, inviting him to drink. “What’s not to celebrate? We’re alive, healthy, and together. You’re even here this time, so we should drink twice as much!” Connie says.

“Drink, drink!” Sasha chirps, taking another swig. It doesn’t seem to matter to her that Jean isn’t drinking along with her. At least she’s enjoying herself though.

Sighing, Jean decides to take a sip of his beer, thinking that he’s had much better drinks than this, but he smiles when Sasha cheers a little too loudly. Drinking to them – for living, for surviving, for lasting this long together – is certainly something he could celebrate.

“We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?” Jean asks. He takes another sip, deciding that the bitter taste of the alcohol isn’t so bad after he’s taken a few sips. “Training, battles, and homecomings.”

If someone had asked him at the start of all this how far he’d make it, he would have laughed at them and told them he’d make it until the very end. That was when he was set on joining the Military Police. Now that he’s joined the Scouting Legion, served it in for more years than he ever thought he would, he sees that nothing could ever be sure. Even that peaceful life serving the king wouldn’t have been certain. The only thing he can be sure about is the two people who sit beside him now. These two, who have never run from a battle, have stood by him with unwavering loyalty, surer of him and his words than he’ll ever be. If it weren’t for them, Jean probably wouldn’t be sitting here today.

“Are you going to get all sappy on us?” Sasha laughs, resting her head on Jean’s shoulder.

“And you haven’t even had a drink yet,” laughs Connie. “If you’re this cheesy now, think of all the things you’ll say once you’ve got some alcohol in your bloodstream.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the moment,” Jean grumbles, taking another large swig of his beer.

“Fine, fine,” Connie says quickly, not wanting Jean to leave early like he usually does when he finds Connie and Sasha too drunk and giggly to spend time with. He lifts his glass once more and raises an eyebrow. “Another toast, maybe?”

“What for this time? More celebrating just for the sake of it?” Although he constantly expresses his disapproval of Connie’s and Sasha’s many late-night drinking parties (that usually only consist of themselves), he admires them for being able to find a reason to celebrate life even if things look bleak. Although maybe Jean’s been working too much and just doesn’t have the same sort of free time they do. He should really reconsider how he spends his nights. Maybe he could schedule weekends to go drinking with them even if they do end up as messy slobs that sneak into his bedroom at three in the morning.

“To Jean!” Sasha says loudly. She has that glazed look in her eye that she gets when she’s had more than enough to drink and Jean thinks after this he should replace the contents of her glass with water. “For being a good soldier, a better friend, and…”

“Our best man,” Connie finishes, grinning at Jean.

It takes him a while to process what Connie has just said. Best man? Surely, they didn’t mean…

Jean takes a hold of Sasha’s hand, inspecting her finger only to find that there’s nothing on it. Confused, he looks at both Sasha and Connie who both look as if they’re trying hard not to laugh. “Either I’m confused or you’re lying to me, but I’m sure I know what you mean,” he says, looking at them suspiciously before fixing his gaze on Connie. “So where’s her ring, Connie? Don’t tell me you were too cheap to buy one.”

“Hey, do you really think so poorly of me?” Connie laughs.

“I have it here,” Sasha says happily. She fishes out a chain that’s hidden under her shirt, pulling it out to reveal a ring with two bands of gold and silver intertwined with each other. At the very center is a diamond that is cut in such a way that it glitters brilliantly no matter what angle Jean looks at it.

“You guys are really…,” Jean breathes, but he never finishes his sentence. There are no words to describe the way he feels right now. He just shakes his head, hoping that his tears don’t fall. “The both of you are so incredible.”

“Yeah,” Sasha says softly. She seems a little more sober now. The ring dangles from the chain a little longer so that Sasha can admire it, but she quickly tucks it under her shirt once more, a wistful expression on her face. “I haven’t worn it just because I don’t want my folks to know yet. We still have that mission in Marley and…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to, and Jean doesn’t want her to. Connie must feel the same way because he reaches over to cover Sasha’s hand with his, giving it a quick squeeze.

Jean doesn’t want them to think about this possibility. He doesn’t want them to consider the idea that one of them might not make it back to Paradis. These two are the people most deserving of love and happiness. They’re the ones who he wants to see have a happy ending. After all, they’re the ones who made him believe in them.

“I’d be honored to be your best man,” Jean says, wrapping them both up in a hug. He presses a kiss against Sasha’s forehead and smiles at Connie. “But give me the bigger honor of bringing you two home safely from Marley.”

“We’ll keep you to it,” Connie laughs.

“You’re squishing me,” Sasha giggles.

Jean ignores her, squeezing them even harder, and swearing that he’ll bring them home if it’s the last thing he does.

[rue-by-another-name]

“Flat out” - h.s. Part 7

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

-----

-----

You had your head on your kitchen island as you stared at the small fish tank in front of you. The little beta fish swam around with it’s burgundy tail flipping through the water as it swam in little circles around and around. 

“Same,” you sighed, spooning a mouthful of cereal into your mouth while continuing to watch your little fish. You’d bought him two weeks ago, after living on your own for two full months, and you were quite content just watching this little guy swim around with no worries in the world. 

He soothed you.

You may or may not have named him Harry. 

David had already texted you twice today around five in the morning like an apparently normal person in the law world. You had been working the same case for about a month now and you seriously were started to get agitated. Patience had never been a strong suit for you. 

Sighing, you put your bowl in the sink and started getting ready for work. You were permanently an employee at your firm now, as the lady that had been on maternity leave had decided to become a stay-at-home mum. Lucky for you, you’d been doing a great job and had quickly been hired on. 

It was starting to get a bit chilly again as you stepped outside, and you shuddered while making sure all your buttons were closed tight. Your feet itched in your black heels but you tried to ignore it as you made your way in the brisk wind.

It had been a good couple months at your new firm and you were fitting right in. You were a solid contribution to the workforce, as you were sure you would be with all the hard work you’d done, and you were finally starting to feel comfortable in what you were doing and the caliber of work you were being assigned. 

The office felt much more like home as you pushed the door open and started to undo the buttons of your coat while making your way to your office.

“Y/N!” Rebecca, the intern that had somehow been assigned to you even though you were basically the same age, scurried to catch up with you as you shed your coat and tossed it over your chair. 

“Okay so it’s going to be kind of busy for you today,” Rebecca said scrolling through her mini iPad and biting her lip. “Mrs. Gregg is here for counsel, you have a meeting with David about the inculpatory evidence for the Bushnell case, and he also wants to quiz you on your cross-examine questions for tomorrow’s court trial.”

You nodded to everything she said, sitting down and opening your laptop to check your emails. Sure enough, there was the list of questions you would be cross-examining the witness with the following day.

“Okay. All easy things,” you sighed, “Is there anything else?”

Rebecca furrowed her eyebrows for a moment before shaking her head. “You have most of the morning off to work.”

“Well how pleasant,” you sighed, “Thanks so much Rebecca.”

Rebecca nodded, almost looking relieved she hadn’t messed something up, before making her way out of your office and to her much smaller desk area with her other fellow interns. Checking your email, you felt a small pit of guilt settle in your stomach as you looked at the email you had been putting off all week. 

From: maggie.vance@kingscollege.org

Subject: Research Interview

Hi Y/N,

I hope you are doing well. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I know you are doing great things at your firm! I’m in Professor Tunxton’s Field Studies class - you know, Law 210 - and we have to interview influential people in the field. He assigns this project for people to fail considering none of us honestly know anyone in the field, and so I’d really like to prove him wrong. 

I know you’re probably super busy with your new job and I know the Bushnell case is in full swing so I’m sure you’re even more booked than usual, but if you have any time for an interview I would really appreciate it! Just let me know if there’s a time that works for you and I can drive down to your office whenever. I’m free during MW 2nd block and TR 3rd and 4th. I also don’t have any classes on Friday, so anytime Friday works for me. 

Thank you so much! I hope we can meet up! 

Yours,

Maggie

You’d been putting this email off for almost three days now. She’s sent it on Tuesday and here you were on Friday just staring at it with such regret. You remembered the days quite easily of unanswered emails, and you knew just how satisfying it was to throw an interview in Professor Tunxton’s face. He set this assignment up for failure, and you had been ruthless in getting an interview to get yourself a good grade. 

With a groan, you quickly typed back. You hadn’t talked to Maggie since Harry had broken up with her almost two months ago, and quite honestly you’d hardly talked to Harry since either. You’d had lunch together a couple times and he had stopped by work to drop off some of the things you’d forgotten to pack in a small little shoebox, but other than that it had been mostly radio silence. 

The first time you’d gotten together after you’d moved out, things had been significantly more awkward than you’d care to admit. You’d met at a small coffee shop around the corner from your work that you frequented often, and you had been dressed head to toe for work. Harry had been in jean shorts, a torn and faded band shirt, and a beanie stuffed on his head.

You made quite the pair. 

“So ... how’s the job going?” Harry had asked, gripping his fruity tea drink tightly in his long fingers. 

You looked up from your phone where David was texting you and sighed, “I’ve been swamped. I’ve never been so busy in my life. I thought I would stop feeling like I was running around with my head cut off when I graduated, but this is at a whole other level.”

You hadn’t even touched your drink yet and Harry had watched as your drink had slowly gotten warmer and the ice had melted. He felt suffocated and itchy in this formal looking cafe with so many professional looking people. He had tears in his shoes for God’s sake. 

“We’re okay, right?” he asked softly, hoping that you would look up from your phone. 

You did at this question and shifted in your seat. He watched as you played with the sleeve of your blouse and nodded. 

“Yeah,” you said quickly, “Of course we are.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, “Just because ... we ... you know - and I just ... yeah.”

You watched him for a moment, finding some insecurity in his eyes as you both sat there. Slowly, you reached out and placed your hands over his, “Yeah H, we’re fine. I understand. You were really cut up over the breakup and I know it wasn’t ideal that I was leaving at that time either but yeah no worries love.”

You didn’t stay much longer after that as Harry quickly finished his drink and you got five more emails. You'd met up again for dinner where you’d talked about how the other was doing just to “catch up” but that had mostly been it. Something was off and you knew it was because Harry had literally been inside you and you’re totally 100% allowed it. 

The last time you’d seen each other was when you’d gone to get some coffee at the same shop, as you usually did, and Harry was there sitting in the back and doing some writing. His jumper was slightly too big, your favorite color of drank burnt orange, and his hair was tucked into a fancy black hat that matched his black worn jeans and boots. He didn’t look up when you stared at him, mostly because he probably had trained himself to not feel stared at over the years, and so you just took the time sitting the cafe by yourself, drinking your warm drink, and staring as he worked. 

He seemed very in tune with what he was doing and what he was writing, and it was around the time you knew he would be going out on his movie tour to promote it, so you let him be. It was when you stood to leave that he picked up on your presence, at least, he pretended he had just picked up on your presence. He’d known the moment you had walked into the small place. He’d only been there because he knew you would be there as well. 

“Y/N,” he caught up with you as you were leaving and you turned to see him standing there, book in hand, “How’re things?” he asked, one foot still in the cafe and the holding the door. He didn’t want to make it seem like he would follow you to the end of the earth, even though he would. 

“Good,” you smiled softly, “Things are good. You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. Promo tour.”

“Right,” you nodded back, “Well ... I expect wonderful things for you.”

“Yeah. And you too, at work. When I get back you should come over for dinner or summat.”

“That’d be nice,” you agreed, even though the thought of stepping back into that flat you’d once shared made you long for something you knew you could no longer have. 

“Well have a lovely afternoon,” Harry said and you reached out to give him a peck on the cheek in parting but he pulled you in, holding you close in a hug that you quickly reciprocated. Your fingers clenched his sweater and you took in his scent as much as you could before you felt his tight arms slackening. 

“Good t’see ya,” he mumbled, looking you in the eyes once more before forcing himself to turn and walk down the road. 

Your laptop beeped, signaling a new email, and you were broken from the last memories of Harry Styles in your mind. It was a response to the meeting time you’d sent Maggie. 

Great! Thank you so much! How should I dress/prepare?

You responded with one phrase: Business-casual.

And that’s how Maggie walked into your office in yet another leather ensemble an hour later. She didn't look much different. Her hair, instead of in the punk afro it had once been in, was now in long dark turquoise braids that she’d twisted into an elaborate ponytail. But she still looked hot though. 

“Y/N!” she smiled as you stood up from your desk and she gave you a hug. “Look at your office! You’re so official!”

“It’s almost like I have a real job or something,” you chuckled and gestured to the seat across from you, “Please take a seat.”

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” Maggie sighed and pulled out her laptop from her bag as you tucked your skit beneath you and sat down across from her. “Tunxton is going to shit his pants when he sees I interviewed someone.”

“He nearly failed me just for proving him wrong when I did an actual interview,” you chuckled, “Good memories. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack yet, honestly.”

“I know,” Maggie nodded, “All those donuts.”

You both laughed before Maggie got into the questions of your everyday job. All questions for the Bushnell case obviously had to be kept confidential, so there wasn’t much she could ask about that, but you were able to provide her with a steady source of what it’s like to work as an intern and part-time employee and make your way up.

“I bet Harry loses his shit every day when you come home with working this Bushnell case,” Maggie shook her head, “You went up against one mob boss and he nearly exploded.”

You felt your smile falter slightly as you cleared your throat, “I don’t really think he’s aware I’m working this case, honestly. I’ve moved and he’s away at work.”

Maggie furrowed her eyebrows, “Oh,” her lips pouted slightly, “I guess that makes sense that you can’t tell him much about the case.”

You shrugged and leaned back in your chair, “Yeah. I mean, we don’t talk much another since we’re both so busy.”

At this, Maggie raised her eyebrows and closed her laptop, “You’re kidding?”

You gave her a hesitant look, “No ...?”

“Well did you guys break up or something?” Maggie asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at this, shaking your head, “Oh God no! We weren’t dating! You two were the ones that were together if you’ve forgotten!”

Maggie was quiet for a moment before she cleared her throat, “Would you want to grab dinner tonight?”

“Oh.” The suggestion was sudden and you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to say to that. You and Maggie weren’t exactly friends, but you’d known each other during a very difficult time in both your lives and had one person in common you’d both loved dearly. 

“I’ve been meaning to get in contact with you for a while now,” Maggie explained, “I was wondering if you could give me some advice about my major and the law program and I know you’re probably very busy during the day. But if you have some time off tonight, I had reservations at a really fancy restaurant to celebrate my friend Andy’s engagement but she decided she didn’t want me as a bridesmaid so I don't feel like treating her to another night of talking about herself, you know?”

You couldn’t help but smile at this. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone out to somewhere nice. I’d be happy to join you for a revenge dinner.”

Maggie laughed, “Perfect,” she nodded, “I’ll pick you up at seven?” 

You gave her your address before sending her off and wishing her luck on her essay before settling back in at your desk. There was a picture of you and Harry from a couple years ago on your desk, and you continually told yourself the only reason it was there was to intimidate the other ladies in the office. But in reality, you knew it was because you missed these days.

It was a picture of the two of you during your freshmen year at university. You were both wearing jumpers with Harry in shorts and you in leggings. His smile was so wide and his entire being seemed to just be glossy from the buzzing feeling of excitement as you laughed and clung to him around his waist. His one arm was around you and the other was waving in the air. It had been your first uni party together, and you’d both gotten way to smashed to function as you’d stumbled back to your flat together. 

This picture had been taken with an unforgiving flash outside your flat when Felicity had come back with you both to make sure you both didn’t die on the way home. It had always been such a cute picture to you, because it seemed like the kind of picture a couple took outside their first house. This was yours and Harry’s first flat, and you were so proud of each other. 

You sniffled slightly and quickly looked away from the picture before making your way to David’s office to get quizzed on the questions you would be giving the next day in court. 

--

It had been a while since you’d dressed up for anything other than work, and so you really struggled with zipping up the back of your dress before you finally got it and wedged your feet into some nice heels. Maggie texted that she was outside around 7:00pm and you quickly jogged down the stairs of your apartment complex to meet her in her beat up car out front.

“You look great!” Maggie smiled, “Very professional and classy.”

“You don't look too bad yourself,” you chuckled, “Very scorned bridesmaid.”

Maggie threw her head back and laughed, putting the car into gear and pulling away from your street.

“I swear she’s the most self-concieted bitch I’ve ever known. Doesn’t even make her first roommate and best friend at uni a bridesmaid. So rude.”

“Probably because you would outshine her,” you declared, “I wouldn’t make you a bridesmaid.”

“As much as I appreciate that compliment, I know the real reason you wouldn’t make me your bridesmaid is because I fucked your best friend,” Maggie chuckled.

You both laughed at this as you made your way through the night life of London. Maggie had to park about a block away and you walked to the nice restaurant where people were no longer sitting out on the patio in this weather, but were instead sitting under the twinkling lights indoors. 

Maggie gave the host her name as he led you both to your table. You could tell she was kind of nervous as she kept playing with the edge of her skirt as you walked, but you didn’t blame her because you were slightly nervous as well.

“So,” you said as you both sat down and you placed your napkin on your lap, “You said you had academic questions.”

Maggie laughed and took a sip of her water, “You get right to the point.”

“Every good lawyer does,” you shrugged. “I also think this is the first time I’ve seen you wearing something other than black.”

“I’m branching out,” Maggie shrugged, “And that’s also what I wanted to talk with you about. I’ve bent thinking of a career change.”

You were quite shocked at this considering the high caliber of understanding and comprehension Maggie had in the law field, and so you weren’t surprised when Maggie laughed at your reaction.

“I know,” she sighed, “Big shock.”

“But you’re a natural!” you leaned forward, “Why would you throw that away?!”

“Because I do want to help the people. That’s what I think lawyers do best obviously, but I just don’t find any interest in it. Yeah, I’m good at what I’m doing but I just ... I don’t know. I want to help out in some other way.”

You nodded as Maggie talked, completely involved in what she was saying. “Law is such a big commitment,” she sighed and rested her elbows on the table, “And I think that in order to be a good lawyer, regardless of whether or not I test well, I need to be fully committed and right now I’m just not.”

“What makes you think that?”

Maggie seemed to think for a moment before she said, “I remember so clearly Harry telling me everything you were doing. He would explain how busy you always were and the dedication you had to your studies. It fascinated me that someone would be so interested in what they were studying that they felt the need to constantly be at it. You’re so engaged in what you’re doing and I was so in awe of that.”

“Thank you,” you blushed slightly, “I’m surprised Harry even noticed,” you chuckled. “He thought a jury pool was the hot tub back at whatever hotel all the jurors were staying at that they sat in after each day at work.”

You smiled as Maggie laughed at this before she shook her head to try and get back on task. “No no he was totally invested in what you were doing, and that was so enlightening to me. I’m good at law and I know I’m lucky to be, but I don’t love it as much as you do.”

“I don’t think anyone loves it as much as I do,” you sighed, “I’m stupidly obsessed.”

“But I think that’s how it should be,” Maggie exclaimed, “And I really don’t have that. And so I’m wondering, with your professional opinion, do you think I should stick with it or go with something else that interests me?”

You were quiet for a moment as you clasped your hands in front of you and looked at the people around you enjoying their meals. “When Harry and I met, I was convinced I was going to be the best lawyer in all of London.”My best marks in school was always in history. I loved it and I was good at memorizing the dates. It just came easy to me - probably as easy as law comes to you. I could have easily taken on history scholarships to schools if I’d wanted. But like you, I just didn’t feel the calling to that department as much as another.”

You shrugged and took a sip of your wine. “I think you’re not a real scholar unless you challenge yourself. If you take the easy path, then you have nothing true to learn. But when you’re doing something you love that you never fully understand, I think that’s when things work out the most in the end.”

Maggie nodded, “I had a feeling. I just wanted to hear from someone successful.”

“I’m hardly successful,” you chuckled, “I’m tired and have only work friends. But I’m happy. It’s a good start.”

You and Maggie ate in peace as you chatted about school and things you recalled from the past four years that were still going on. Eventually though, the topic went back to Harry.

“You must be excited for his new music,” Maggie noted, “I’m sure he’s run quite a lot of ideas by you. Have you heard any of it yet?”

“Maggie,” you chuckled, “I keep telling you that Harry and I haven’t talked in ages. You’re acting as though we’re still living in the same building.”

Maggie groaned, “You’re right I’m sorry. It’s just he talks as though you both talk every day, so I was surprised to hear you didn’t talk often.”

“Wait,” you placed your fork down, “You and Harry talk?”

Maggie looked at you as if that was the dumbest question ever, “Yeah of course. We’re still friends. He’s a good guy.”

“I just - huh,” you slumped slightly in thought, “Your breakup just seemed really painful.”

“I wouldn’t say it was painful,” Maggie swirled the win around in her glass, “I mean, it was pretty sudden. But I’m a pretty forgiving person and Harry’s an easy person to forgive.”

“So he broke up with you?”

Maggie gave you a questionable look. “Yeah. He did. I’m surprised he didn’t talk to you about it.”

“Me too,” you mumbled, “Honestly, he was pretty chopped up about it. Never wanted to talk about it and would lock himself away whenever I’d ask.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Maggie nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, he was so distraught over you leaving. He was falling apart piece by piece.”

“By me leaving? I was moving across the city.”

Maggie didn’t say anything to this as she slurped a noodle. “I don't know what to tell you. I feel as though it’s not my place to say what I think should have happened or obviously what I think you need to do. I’m just surprised you both haven’t talked in a while.”

“He was gone and I’ve been busy,” you said defiantly, almost as if to justify yourself.

Dinner didn’t go much later than that and you soon found yourself walking down the street towards Maggie’s car. The drive back was quick and when Maggie pulled up at your building she turned to you and sighed.

“Look, it’s obviously not my place to say anything, but I’m going to anyway and blame it on the fact that I’m younger than both of you and so therefore less mature.”

“Not quite true but okay,” you chuckled.

“You need to stop fucking with yourself about not being with Harry. I know shit that went down between you two, but the way Harry talks about you made me think you’d both gotten back together. The boy cares about you and is clearly sorting through some feelings which is why he broke up with me in the first place. I don’t know what’s holding you back or anything from being with him or even just going to lunch with him or something, but it’s clear to me that the two of you have something special and I’d hate to see that be thrown away because you two fucked and then you left him.”

You blushed, “That’s not -”

“Y/N, I may not be wanting to be lawyer, but I know when suspects are lying and I will not hesitate to interrogate the fuck out of you until you are crying and plead guilty,” Maggie said as politely as she could. 

You couldn’t do anything but sigh, looking out the window before thanking Maggie and making your way into your flat. For someone so mature and advanced in your field, you sure did know how to be the most immature human on the planet. You sat down on your couch, stripped of your dress, and just laid there for a moment thinking on what Maggie had said. 

Yeah, sure, you’d thought maybe Harry had had feelings for you. But you highly doubted that after all this time - two full months - of you ignoring him, that he would want to see you again. Plus, he was super busy as well. It wasn’t like you were going to run into him any time soon. You’d have to go out of your way to contact him and that might not go as planned. 

You tried not to dwell on it as you attempted to get to sleep and then got ready for work the next morning. You were at the court house today, and you trudged up the steps with a coffee in one hand and your briefcase in the other. 

David met you near the door as you squeezed your eyes closed and then blinked multiple times in an attempt to wake up more. 

“You look awful.”

“I will stab you with all your pens,” you mumbled, taking another sip of coffee.

David just smirked, taking the briefcase you were offering him as you yawned. “We’ll start in around thirty minutes. Here are your notes one more time.”

Sitting down outside the court room, you sighed and made sure to place your coffee cup far away from you as to not spill it on your white blouse. This was going to be a long day.

Scrolling through the iPad notes, you weirdly enough smelled him before you saw him. It was a faint whiff of the memory of him that caught your attention as you placed the iPad down and looked up to see him standing in line at the registration and ticket line. 

“Harry?”

You said his name before you could stop yourself and suddenly you were very aware that you were dressed like a fashionable mum that passed her kids off to the nanny far more than taking care of them yourself and you smoothed out your pants as your stilettos clicked against the marble as you made your way to him. 

Harry looked at you in bewilderment, in his fancy shirt and jeans before blinking and stepping out of the line. “Y/N,” he nodded, “I’m not sure why I’m surprised that you’re here.”

“I’m working the -”

“Bushnell case. Yeah. I keep up with the news.”

“And with Maggie apparently.”

Neither you nor Harry said anything as he looked at you and sized up your appearance. He couldn’t tell if you were mad, or frustrated, or just confused as you stood there and stared back at him with a blank face.

“You’ve talked with Maggie recently?”

“We had dinner last night. She stopped by for a school project during the day.”

Harry nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. You rocked on your heels. “So um ...” you cleared your throat, “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Getting a marriage license,” Harry said casually and your eyes nearly bugged out of your socket. You fumbled with your coffee cup and nearly spilled it on yourself before Harry chuckled and help steady the cup in your hands. “I’m just messing. I got a ticket on my motor bike. Just here to pay it.”

You let out a long sigh, “That was awful.”

“Disappointed you didn’t get an invitation?” Harry smirked. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him as he stood there in front of you. “You look good,” you noticed, “Your tour went well I’m guessing? All promoted?”

“Movie’s coming out soon yeah,” Harry nodded, “Crazy.”

“T’is.”

“Y/N!” David called down the hall and you turned to see him poking his head out of the room. “We’re starting in ten minutes!”

“Is that the pen guy?” Harry asked. You turned back to him and gasped.

“His name is David!” you hissed as David made his way over to the two of you.

“Have we met?” David asked stiffly, eyeing Harry up as the three of you stood there awkwardly.

“Oh God,” you mumbled under your breath as Harry just smiled at him openly.

“Yeah hey man. It’s Harry. Y/N and I used to live together,” Harry offered David his hand and David shook it quickly, “You’re that pen guy.”

“Harry,” you hissed.

“It’s fine Y/N,” David said stiffly, “Yes Harry it’s nice to see you again. What activity brings you down here?” He eyed the ticket in Harry’s hand suspiciously as Harry did nothing but smile amicably back at him.

“Just here getting our marriage license,” Harry put his arm around your shoulders and your body buzzed to life at the close proximity of his body against yours. You almost didn’t correct him just from the distraction of his warmth.

“He was a reckless driver and now he’s paying for his sins,” you said, pushing away as Harry chuckled and the color slowly started to come back to David’s face.

“Lovely,” he noted, “Well, Y/N, we’re getting ready in there if you’re like to join us.”

“Right,” you nodded and turned as David walked back away. “I’m sorry about him,” you whispered in a rush as Harry watched you walk away.

“Wait yeah hey hey hey,” Harry jogged to keep up with you and grabbed your wrist, “Y/N wait.” His thumb caressed your wrist as you stopped and turned to him, waiting expectedly for what he was about to say.

“You said you’d seen Maggie recently?”

“Yesterday. Now, H, I’ve really got to go. I’ve got -”

“Yeah yeah I know! Just -” Harry sighed, “What did you two talk about?”

“Can I tell you later? I’m actually going to be late now,” you bit your lip.

“Would you like to get coffee?” Harry asked, “Whenever you’re done?”

“I don't know when I’ll be -”

“Just text me,” Harry nodded before letting go of your wrist and making his way back to the line, “Don’t forget!” he called over his shoulder. You couldn’t help but smile at this as you bit your lip again and made your way into the court room. 

It was almost an entirely different world when you walked into the courthouse too. You’d been so happy and content in that moment shared with Harry, and now you were staring at the face of a killer who had murdered someone - possibly more than one person. 

The Bushnell case was pretty tricky considering the evidence was mostly circumstantial. It was one of those moments where everyone knew he was guilty, but considering Mr. Bushnell was obviously saying he was innocent he was given a trial. 

“Cute of your boyfriend to show up,” David noted as you sat down next to him. You simply rolled your eyes. 

“You know he’s not my boyfriend. We haven’t talked in a while.”

“He seems nice dear,” Ms. Lee smiled. She was who you were defending. Her son was dead, and you were here to do something about it. 

“He’s a lovely man,” you nodded before going to your notes. “This is it, really.”

“You’ll be fine. You went up against a mob boss in university. He’s not going to do anything crazy,” David mumbled.

“He already has,” you reminded him before the judge called Mr. Bushnell to the stand and it was your chance to question him. And you were doing a pretty good job too for a while. You started off with the questions you and David had planned on. Up until this point, Mr. Bushnell had been mostly well-mannered. What you really wanted was to get under his skin, and that’s not what these questions were doing. 

He had a good lawyer, and his good lawyer had definitely prepped him for these questions. You could tell by David’s slightly annoyed face that he was getting frustrated as well, and so you pulled from what you could as your time came to a close. 

“I just have one more question Mr. Bushnell,” you sighed, stepping towards him. There was one place you and David hadn’t gone yet, and that was because it was mostly a hunch. 

“We could go on and on about the motive and the reasoning behind it. We all know you were a good teacher before this, and that you were well-liked in the community. You were a pretty busy guy.”

“I like to be involved in my community. I like to give back,” Mr. Bushnell nodded. 

“I bet it’s pretty rough to stay awake and active so often,” you shrugged, “How’d you do it?”

“I’m good at time management,” Bushnell shrugged.

“You also live a block away from a sketchy neighborhood,” you noted, “Acquisition of drugs may be easy to come by.”

“Objection!” Bushnell’s lawyer stood, “Circumstantial.”

“And with a little bit of cocaine I bet you could do anything,” you shrugged once the judge had allowed you to continue. “Isn't that why you gave those druggy students a second chance? You said, quote, ‘Every student dabbles a bit with drugs in uni. Why shouldn’t we give them a second chance?’ Did you dabble with drugs in uni, Mr. Bushnell? Are you still dabbling with drugs in uni?”

“Objection!” Bushnell’s lawyer called. 

“Overruled,” the judge waved it off. 

“If you think I take drugs, Ms. Y/L/N, then you’re crazy. I’m a university professor. I wouldn’t jeopardize my career.”

“You did when you had an affair with a student,” you commented.

“Objection! That was ruled faulty.”

“That was ruled faulty because you silenced her,” you glared at Bushnell. “Somehow, even from behind these bars, you threatened her to not come forward. We spoke with her, Mr. Bushnell, and we know the story. And so for you to do a little bit of drugs on the side as well isn’t really that much of a stretch.”

“Object-!”

“Did Timothy come across your drugs at some point? Were you afraid you would have to give up the drugs in order to keep your job? If Timothy saw you taking drugs then you would most definitely be fired - arrested even! You couldn’t jeopardize that! You’d just bought a new flat and you were up for that department chair promotion! You killed a student over cocaine, Mr. Bushnell. And you coerced a student into an affair and then threatened her.”

“I did NOT coerce her!” Bushnell yelled, “She wanted it. She flirted with me in class all the time. And you think that by you coming up here and saying I do drugs and that I killed a kid over some powder is something that can put me away for years then you’re a dumb bitch! If I have a way of reaching my students from here like you suggest, then I wouldn’t be so high and mighty because there could be people in the courtroom right now that I could be signaling to deal with you!”

“Order!” the judge smashed the gavel on her desk multiple times. “Ms. Y/L/N please sit down. Mr. Bushnell will be taken back into custody as the jury decides further on the recent information acknowledged in the case. We’re dismissed for today.”

Everyone was talking all at once as you rushed back to your desk and started grabbing your things. 

“That was amazing,” David said with wide eyes, “Where did you come up with that?”

“He’s a twitchy guy,” you shrugged as you started stuffing everything into your bag. “He could be tested for no drugs in his system but he could also be going through withdrawal. And people always get angry when you suggest someone didn’t want to be with them and it was all their fault.”

“You blew the case open,” David nodded, “We won’t be here much longer.”

“That’s the hope.”

--

You were so caught up in the case that you didn’t even think to call Harry when you got out later that night. Upon getting back to your flat, you were exhausted and sunk down on your bed without a second thought. You would be right back in that courthouse tomorrow morning bright and early, and you were unsure when you would honestly ever have time for just a little coffee. Granted, it was only around 10 at night, but you were exhausted.

It was around midnight then when you heard a crash somewhere near you. Jolting out of bed, you listened again but didn’t hear anything again so you quietly laid back down. You weren’t going to lie to yourself that you were on edge. Threats didn’t usually get to you in the courtroom, but considering Bushnell seemed to have quite the reach, and if your theories were correct, then you found yourself being more on edge than usual. 

It didn’t take much for you to bolt out of bed again. It sounded like nothing more than a scratch on your window but you were done. With shaking hands and a shaking body, you rolled out of bed and quickly threw on some leggings and a jumper, smashing your feet into your boots before grabbing your beanie on the way out and running with tears streaming down your face to your car.

No one could have been chasing you, but someone could have been. And you were terrified. With shaking hands, you started driving and found yourself driving down familiar roads you hadn’t been on in a long time. But they felt comfortable and familiar as you started to calm down a bit once you parked in front of Harry’s flat. 

Jumping out of your car, you flew up the steps and knocked on the door while also pressing the doorbell. It was around midnight, so Harry would definitely still be up, but it took a while for a light to flick on near you and you were starting to slowly get scared all over again. Someone easily could have followed you and right now you were just a sitting duck out here.

Slowly the door opened, and a girl around your age was peering at you sleepily. “Um ... hi,” she cleared her throat, “Can I help you?”

You could have been in serious danger, but in that moment your brain just stopped working. You hadn’t thought to ask Harry anything about how he was doing when you saw each other briefly. You didn’t know if he was in a relationship, and he very well could be. This girl could be a one night stand and that would also be something Harry was very involved in. You hadn’t had time to think about Harry being with someone else in the time you’d been apart, and suddenly it was all crashing down on you. 

And you really didn’t like it.

“Oh um ... sorry I just ... I’m sorry to bother you so late at night. Is Harry here?” you asked softly, “He said I should stop by,” you started lying, “And I forgot he mentioned it and I was in the neighborhood and I-”

“Harry doesn’t live here anymore.”

The sentence both relieved you and frightened you all at once. Harry didn’t live in this flat anymore? He’d moved? Why? But also, that meant he wasn’t living with this girl either. So that was a relief. 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say as you took a slight step back. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah he sold this place to me like two weeks ago,” the girl yawned, “He’s friends with my girlfriend.”

“Oh okay,” you nodded, “Well I’m sorry for interrupting you this late. I uh ... yeah okay have a good night.”

The girl nodded and closed the door, only for the world to come crashing back into perspective as to why you were standing on a doorstep so late. You ran back to your car and only made it down the street before you were parking in a McDonalds parking lot and pulling out your phone. 

He picked up on five rings in, so you were sure you were waking him as you heard his groggy voice, “Hello? Y/N?”

“You moved,” you whispered. You weren't sure why you were whispering but it felt right.

“Uh ... yeah? Is everything okay? It’s kind of late, love.”

“I um ... I had a good day at work today, you know? Like the kind of good day where I got threatened which is good for a lawyer because it means you’re getting close obviously but um, the guy was kind of intimidating I guess and -”

“You were threatened?” Harry asked. He sounded more awake now, and you could hear him rummaging around. The thought of Harry living in a weird place you didn’t call home but he did was so foreign to you and you felt yourself start to tear up.

“Yeah,” you cried, feeling ridiculously pathetic. “Yeah he did. Um, and like he’s threatened other people before so I know he can do it, you know? And so usually I’m fine with this kind of stuff but I thought I heard something in my flat and I just -”

“Are you there now?” Harry asked urgently.

“No no I ran out of there and drove to yours but some girl answered and I thought you were dating her which was weird for me I don’t know why that was so weird I mean we haven’t talked in a while and stuff but like -”

“Y/N where are you?” Harry asked. He sounded slightly out of breath and you had to catch your own from the run on sentences and the tears for a moment in order to fully compose yourself.

“I’m in a McDonalds parking lot a block away from our old flat,” you cried.

“Stay there,” Harry demanded, “And stay on the phone, okay love? I’m coming to you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, “Wait, I don’t know why I said that when obviously I want you. I mean, yeah that I want you to come to me here. Not that I want you, like I want you I want you, you know? But maybe I do I don’t know everything was just happening so fast and you and Maggie broke up and you wouldn’t tell me why and so you were hurting and so therefore I was hurting and I’m so not independent H. You would do everything for me and take care of me and that scared me because what was I going to do when you got a girlfriend or moved out or went on tour? You know? H?”

“Yeah I’m here,” Harry whispered. You sucked in a breath and held the phone close to your face. 

“But now I’m living alone and someone might have broken into my flat and I didn’t even check before just booking it out of there. If you were there, you would have protected me, you know? And it was probably nothing and we could have gone back to sleep by now.”

You were sobbing kind of pathetically at this point and you hated crying, but this seemed like the kind of cry that was needed in order to release all the stress and tension in your body. You were so worked up that you didn’t even notice Harry’s car pull up and you screamed bloody murder when Harry knocked on your window.

“Sh sh shhhhhh,” Harry soothed you as he opened the door and reaching into your car, pulling you up and into his chest as you both stood there in the McDonalds parking lot. You were a crying mess, arms folded between you both as Harry held you tightly and rested his chin on your head. He rocked you back and forth slightly as you both stood there until you were done crying and slowly pulled away, looking you in the face for the first time.

“Hey,” he gave you a soft smile, “How’re you?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he fisted his jumper and used it to wipe your tears. “You’re okay,” he nodded, “Everything’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry,” you sniffled, “I sound like a bloody idiot. I don’t know what came over me. I was so worked up.”

“We all get scared from time to time and react in different ways. When I get scared I close people off, and that’s why I closed you off when you were leaving. I got scared and I reacted poorly.”

“I was moving across the city,” you chuckled, looking up as Harry looked down at you with smile lines around his eyes.

“Felt like I was loosing you in more ways than one,” he sighed. His hands came up to massage your shoulders and run down your arms before grasping your hands and resting there. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am,” you nodded, “I was really freaked out there for a moment.”

“You can stay at mine tonight if you’d like,” Harry suggested.

“No I think I should probably go back. If there’s evidence there of a break-in then I’ll be able to use that tomorrow in court.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile, “You’re such a smart little lawyer.”

You shrugged, “I try.”

You went to get back in your car but Harry stopped you. “Let’s leave your shit car here and you can come back for it later. I’ll drive you to your flat.”

“Did you just call my car shit?” 

“Well I’m not going to lie to you,” Harry shrugged casually. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes before turning and getting into Harry’s car. Harry pulled out of the parking lot and you looked up from your phone. 

“If you just take a left here then -”

“I know where I’m going, Y/N,” Harry mumbled, taking the correct turn and then another. You looked at his profile as he drove and wouldn’t look back at you. 

“You know where my flat is?”

“I mean, you gave me the address before you left and I just -”

“You just what?”

“I may have driven by a couple times just to make sure you were -”

“Harry!”

“- okay! I just wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“And I’m guessing you don’t like that little corporate coffee shop hang out either,” you huffed, “Yeah that’s right; I saw you there.”

Harry faux-gasped, “No! I’m so shocked you actually thought I liked that place!” he mocked. “Of course I don’t fucking like that place. It’s all these pricks with suits on.”

“You wear suits all the time,” you defended yourself, “Okay, well, you wear like half of suits sometimes.”

“My suits are classy.”

“Your suits show your nipples,” you shot back. You pulled up at your flat and Harry parked before keeping the doors locked until he was on your side to open it for you.

“I’m not a child,” you chided.

“I’m not treating you like one.”

You huffed again but turned quickly so Harry couldn’t see your little smile. He was smiling too though, in the face of danger no doubt, but still he was smiling. There was no one in your flat either. 

“I must have made it all up in my mind,” you sighed, rubbing your temples as Harry stood in the doorway. 

“This window is open,” Harry pointed to one of your kitchen windows which as indeed open. The screen was still bolted in place though, so it was nothing more than the wind knocking over some things on your countertop. 

“Oh,” you mumbled, going over and pushing the window down until it was closed. “I feel ridiculously foolish.”

“I’m glad you called,” Harry nodded.

You both stood there awkwardly for a moment before Harry let out a long breath, “Your place is nice.”

“Oh! Oh yeah thank you. I um, I put a lot of time into it.”

“Yeah it’s feels comfy.”

“It is.”

Again, silence washed over you both before you felt the need to continue speaking, “So you moved?”

“What? Oh,” Harry nodded, “Yeah yeah I moved. That place was pretty small, you know? And I mean even with just me in it I still have a lot of stuff coming up and it wasn’t in the most convenient part of the city work wise so I just moved.”

“Got it. That’s nice,” you nodded, “I’m happy for you.”

“Y/N,” Harry nearly choked on his own words, “I um ... look, I know things are so awkward between us and I know that it’s mostly my fault for being so closed off to you. I was just feeling so detached from everything going on and I was reflecting on it but also I just should have been honest with you from the start.”

“No it’s my fault,” you said quickly, “I pushed you to open up and you said you needed time but I just kind of left and that wasn’t cool of me.”

“You did hit it and quit it,” Harry shrugged. You couldn’t help but gasp and laugh at this, pushing his chest slightly as he smirked and gauged your reaction.

“I did not! You jumped my bones!”

“You jumped on me!” Harry laughed, “What was I supposed to do with that?”

“You kissed me first!” you shot back. “You caught me off guard.”

“That’s true. I did do that and for that I’m sorry,” Harry nodded, putting his hands up in defense, “Honestly, Y/N, I just was so struck with the sudden fear of losing you. I thought you were going to leave me behind for some reason and I know you would have never done that. It was always in my books to be with you, I think, but in that moment I really felt like I was going to be alone.”

“I think I needed to be alone for a little while,” you shrugged, “I needed to have my own place. I can’t always be dependent on others and I was slowly starting to mooch of you a little too much.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry shrugged and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and looking down at you endearingly.

“I know,” you smiled and rested your head on his chest, “But I do. I needed this.”

“Well right now what I think we both need is some sleep,” Harry suggested, “I see you don’t have a couch.”

“I don’t have a lot of furniture,” you admitted, “I sleep on a mattress on the ground.”

“What?” Harry laughed. 

“This is the worst flat ever,” you grumbled.

Harry kissed your forehead as you entwined your fingers together. “You can come and sleep on my mattress with me.”

“I’ll be polite,” Harry promised.

“I would expect as much from such a gentlemen,” you smiled warmly, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. “Thanks for being here.”

“It’s about time I started being places for you again,” Harry said, making it sound so simple and easy.

--

The next morning you were up early and bustling around to get ready for work. Harry’s eyes felt so heavy as he attempted to open them but he just laid there and groaned. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, “I’m sorry I’m being so loud. I just need to get to the courthouse earlier than usual. David is giving his final statement and then the jury makes their decision. Hopefully my examination was enough to convince them.”

“You’ll do great babe,” Harry mumbled from your mattress, sticking his hand up in the air to give you a thumbs up.

“Did you just call me babe?” you asked, stopping mid-dress to look at Harry as he turned his head to face you and opened one eye to see you fully dressed for work.

“Did you not like it? I can call you something else.”

“No ...” you mulled it over for a moment, “I liked it.” You grabbed your briefcase and slipped into your nude heels. “We aren’t dating though.”

“Yeah okay whatever,” Harry grumbled, “I’ll stop by later with coffee.”

“Don’t eat all my cereal,” was your last response before you were making your way down the stairs. You were just out the door and walking down the steps to the sidewalk when the door flew open and Harry stumbled out, jumping around as he put on his shoes and nearly tripped over his own feet.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled, “I don’t know what I was thinking allowing you to fucking walk to work on your own. What was I thinking,” he grumbled, jogging to catch up to a very surprised looking you. He smiled down at you, casually looping his arm around your waist while the other grasped the back of your head and giving you a full on kiss.

His lips were warm and you melted into them as his arm held you securely and pressed you up against his equally warm body. “Good morning,” he whispered upon breaking the kiss, your forehead pressed to his before you pulled away and looked at him.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“I missed you. I love you. And I’m wishing you good luck today.”

It was all so casual that you nearly had to check you weren’t still sleeping. Blinking a couple times, you nodded slowly and started walking to work as Harry walked alongside you. 

You walked in comfortable silence for a while until you got to the courthouse and Harry held the door open for you. “I love you too you know,” you said nervously as Harry stood in the doorway watching you.

“I know,” he beamed, “Kick some ass, okay?”

You simply nodded before making your way into the courtroom where David was waiting for you.

“I thought you said you two weren’t dating,” David mused.

“Shut up.”

--

After your stunt yesterday and David’s killer closing remarks, you were surprised how surprised you were when Bushnell was finally found guilty. But nonetheless, the final verdict lifted your spirits and you turned to give Ms. Lee a hug. 

It was dark by the time you were all dismissed. Your feet hurt, your voice was hoarse, and your hair was the flattest it had ever been even though it was in a gross ponytail that definitely made you look like more of a child than you were.

David opened the door for you as you all flocked out of the room and you couldn’t help but yawn. “All I want right now is to go home and take a bath,” you mumbled, but stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed Harry sitting in one of the benches along the hall, slouched over and most definitely asleep. David gave a disapproving look as you told him you’d catch up with him tomorrow and made your way quietly over to where Harry’s head was ducked down and his hands clasped before him. 

Slowly, you crouched down in front of him and placed one hand on his knee, the other on his cheek. He looked so tired and worn yet young at the same time and you almost didn’t want to wake him. 

But considering the courthouse would be closing soon, you didn’t really have a choice. “H,” you whispered, “H, wake up.”

Harry sighed heavily and his eyes fluttered open. He felt your hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone and he reached up to hold it against his face, gripping it tightly as he came to. You were smiling at him, clearly amused that he’d fallen asleep, and he groaned when he felt his aching body.

“Oh God,” he groaned, “Not how I expected to spend the day.”

“Have you been here all day?” you asked incredulously, eyes wide as you stood and moved to sit next to him. Harry rubbed his eyes and maneuvered up a bit so he wasn’t so slouched over. He blinked a couple times, clasping his hands on his lap, before letting out a long sigh.

“Not all day,” he defended himself, “I figured you’d be out at least a couple hours ago. I brought coffee.” He turned and looked at the two coffee cups sitting next to him that were definitely cold now.

“Gosh you’re so cute,” you said without thinking, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he said, pushing your head off and turning to you, “Did you win?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “We did.”

“Well that’s some cause for celebration!” Harry cheered, standing and suddenly far more awake. “We should go to dinner.”

He offered you his arm and you took it, making your way towards the exit. 

--

You and Harry didn’t move back in together right away. Something in you was fighting for what you considered your independence and survival training. Harry respected this, but would still beg you to stay over at his new place whenever you came over for dinner or after work. 

It was a nice flat with more windows and it felt more mature and up Harry’s rich alley. You liked it, and you could totally see yourself living there one day. But there was something so alluring to working hard all day and then living in your small, close, and cosy flat. Was it a bit shittier than his? Definitely. But you didn’t let that get you down. 

This went on for months, and though you had caved and agreed to say that you two were in a relationship, you still weren’t budging on the moving in together portion of your relationship. 

“H!” you called as you walked into Harry’s flat one day after work. It was a nice fall day and you were sifting through his mail as Harry looked up from the table where he was working. 

He took off his headphones and smiled at you, allowing you to sit in his lap as you tossed his mail on the table.

“You look nice today,” he smiled, puckering his lips for you to lean down and kiss him. 

“Don’t distract me; I’m mad at you,” you scolded and picked up one of the law magazine you subscribe to. “Did you change all my magazine subscriptions so that they come to your flat?”

Harry bit his lip, “Maybe.”

“H!”

“I just want you to come over more often!” he whined. 

“I’m over here all the time,” you countered back.

“Then move in!”

You felt your skin grow hotter as you cleared your throat and stood up from his lap. Harry instantly recognized the change in your emotions and cleared his throat.

“Only because I want to share everything I have with you,” he said softly.

“Just let me think about it,” you nodded, walking over to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. Though your physical relationship was a more recent development in the past half year or so, you both acknowledged that you’d been together for what felt like ages. It was comfortable, and so you were nervous you would be getting trapped back in a dependent cycle with Harry. But another part of you acknowledged the fact that you were both stronger and more mature people than when you’d been in uni and you knew you would call each other out when you became too dependent. 

But that wasn’t the only thing worrying you.

“If you don’t come to the dinner tonight I might cut off your balls,” you told Harry as you walked back in with a cup of water. You’d thought coffee sounded good, but once you’d smelled his fancy coffee machine and whatever other fancy shit he had, your stomach had not been for it. 

It was also a really complicated machine.

“I already have my tux out on my bed,” Harry said before going back to whatever paperwork he was doing. 

David had gotten a promotion and had invited you and Harry to dinner. You were going to meet David’s new girlfriend and you were both super interested in who the hell this girl could be. 

“I bet she collects paper,” Harry mused, “And when he uses his pens to write on her paper it’s basically like they’re having sex.”

“You’re awful,” you chuckled before taking a sip of your water, “But I hate that you’re probably right.”

Harry just laughed, reaching out and grasping your hand as you both did some work late into the evening before dinner. You got dressed with whatever fancy clothes you had at Harry’s, and then found yourself standing outside a nice Italian restaurant a couple of blocks from your firm. 

You were about to walk in when you got a text from David.

Sorry to change the plans so quickly but Pamela is feeling ill. We will have to reschedule. I hope you and Harry can still use the reservation. 

Harry laughed, “Her name is Pamela.”

“My aunt’s name is Pamela,” you shot back. 

Harry cleared his throat and opened the door for you. “Shall we?”

“Um ...” you bit your lip and swished your skirt back and forth. “Can we just go for a walk? I’m not very hungry.”

Harry regarded you for a moment before shrugged, “If you’d like.”

You grasped Harry’s arm as you walked through the brisk fall breeze. “Is everything okay?” Harry asked, leaning over and kissing your temple as you walked.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said this afternoon,” you nodded.

“If this is about that succulent obsession then I will stop hanging them in every window. I just thought you liked it so I kept buying more,” Harry said nervously.

You laughed, “No this isn't about the succulents. I do like them H; thanks so much for getting them.”

Harry beamed, “Of course.”

“I’m talking though about the moving in thing,” you said, squeezing his arm. 

Harry suddenly turned a bit more rigid, clearing his throat and patting your hand on his arm. “Ah. I’m sorry for pushing you again like that.”

“You’re fine,” you encouraged him. “But, I have been thinking and maybe it is the perfect time for me to move in with you.”

Harry stopped in his tracks and so you turned to look back at him, standing in front of him as you two stood on the sidewalk. “Are you being serious? Don’t fuck with me about this Y/N,” Harry said, hands up in surrender. “Because I swear to God I’ve been waiting for you to say that for months now.”

“No I’m not fucking with you,” you laughed, “I really do believe that it’s time we move in together. We’ve been together for a little bit now as a couple -”

“Seven months,” Harry said quickly.

“Okay,” you laughed, “But we’ve really been together for a while now, I feel, and I know that we can handle anything that’s thrown at us together and I want to do it as a unit and not two separate entities living fifteen minutes apart,” you shrugged.

“Seriously?” Harry ran his hands through his hair, “Y/N, you have no idea how happy this makes me!” He leaned in to hug you, pressing his lips to yours as you smiled and felt your stomach go all a-tizzy. “What changed your mind?” he asked.

You shrugged and fiddled with his fingers, “I guess because I want to raise our baby in the same house?” 

You watched as Harry’s reaction went from happy to confused to uncertain and then bewildered. “You - you what?”

“I’m pregnant,” you shrugged.

You started to walk away laughing, leaving Harry standing there completely dumbfounded. “Y/N?!” he called after you, jogging to keep up as you turned and walked backwards, watching as he fumbled over his feet.

“You’re pregnant?!” he hissed, surging towards you and lifting you up in his arms. You couldn’t help but laugh like a fool as Harry’s tears soaked your neck. You stood there in the middle of the sidewalk on the edge of a park, Harry holding you as you explained to him how you’d found out a couple weeks ago and had been waiting for the right time to tell him. 

Harry’s hands were shaking as he pressed them to your face, his own beaming with happiness and shiny with tears. “I flat out do not care if you’re the grumpiest pregnant woman on the planet,” he cried, “I’m so excited to live with you and raise this baby together.”

“It won’t be too hard,” you smiled, tears in your eyes as well, “You’re already a man-child and I take care of you just fine.”

Harry burst out laughing, pulling you in and kissing the top of your head. “God I love you.”

-----

-----

SOOOOOOOO SINCE I TOOK AGES I MADE THIS SUPER EXTRA LONG AND TRIED TO INCORPORATE EVERYTHING YOU ALL SUGGESTED INTO THE LAST PART. SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. 

Please feel free to give some feedback! I’d love to know what you think of this ending and if you’d like me to write more one shots in the future????!?!?!?!? Don’t expect anything soon though. I’m a busy lady. 

But thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this whole thing! I know it was a process but I’m so grateful for you all and all the love and support you’ve shown me through not only this one shot but through all of them! You guys are the best! Much crazy love to you all!!!!! 

MORE REQUESTS HERE.

[fellowhuman-being]

Normani VS Camila Girls, Lauren and Ty Dolla Sign Drama

You know, maybe in Europe it’s still dawn, while in the US it’s night. But here in Asia, it’s already in the morning, on the next day. I actually went to sleep at 2.30 AM, which means I was still awake until 8 hours ago. This was happening right when I was about to sleep, but since I never see my timeline anymore, I didn’t really know what’s going on until I woke up. No, I didn’t stalk Twitter right after I woke up. I just happened to join in a lot of group chats and these are what I found. You know, it was not a pleasant thing to wake up with these trolls, and it just took me 1 second to get my mood ruined.

Seriously, I’m so enraged. As Harmonizers, you must know that we tend to associate Ally girls with being sweet and unproblematic. But, what makes me disappointed even more is that one of these fans is Ally’s stan. I won’t mention which one but you can check it out by yourself. So, Ally girls are sweet? Bullshit! Every -izers are the same. They just care about their favorite ones without caring about others. Note: I’m speaking this as a general. It doesn’t mean all of you are like that if you are one of them. And I do know that there are people who still respect the other girls even if they only stan 1 or 2 girls.

What makes me frustrated even more is that I followed one of these people. So I checked one by one and I unfollow that account. So, my decision has been right not to see my timeline anymore. It’s full of hates.

Honestly though, we know who are the object of hates here and who got the most hates. I’m gonna say it out loud, it’s Camila. Now that she’s even out of the group, it’s even easier to just throw shades and hates on her. But, here I’m not gonna defend anyone in particular cause the last time I did it, I’ve got a lot of question whether I would do the same for the others. I was even questioned, “Where are you guys when Ally got bodyshamed? When Lauren got bodyshamed? Or when Dinah was accused of being homophobic?” You don’t know me here. What I do is nothing but supporting and defending all the girls. Even right now, I should be working, but I put my time aside to write this.

That #ApologizeCamila hashtag is so disgusting tbh. I thought as a fan, we should have understood by now not to pit women against each other. The girls have been saying it over and over again. As #Harmonizers we should have known this better than anyone else in this world. If you really love the girls, you will know all about their interviews, what they have been promoting, and their advices as feminists. Should i remind you about what they said about what they have been promoting, watch this!

If you idolize these girls, then you should follow them by example. I still don’t understand how people admire someone as a person, inside and outside, physically and characteristically, but not follow them by example. Then what are you stanning? Only their sexy bodies? Their beautiful voices? Their boobs? Their asses? You wanna get inside their pants and you get horny watching them dancing around? I’m sorry, but that means you are drooling over them, NOT idolizing them. I know some of the fans are like that, but these girls are more than just their sexy bodies and their voices.

Please keep in mind that these girls are HUMAN. THEY HAVE FEELINGS. Confronting them out of something they didn’t do is stupid! Who started the war? US!!! Now, let’s trace back. Things have gotten really worse when Normani’s face was cropped and lynched. Who started it? Answer by yourself! We might not see it or we might see it sometimes, but Camila has been crying over all the hates she gets. Now who started it? Now, let’s not blame each other over WHO did it first. You keep saying, “Camilizers started it.” or “Normani girls started it.” WHATEVER!! Basically we are the ones who makes everything worse. We are the ones who started the war. And not to mention, we ARE the reason why the girls are hurt. Are you heartless or what speaking about them or even confronting them out of something that they don’t even do? Before you speak all those disgusting words, THINK, PUT YOURSELF UNDER THEIR SHOES, AND THINK ABOUT HOW THEY FEEL. Are you happy being called a cunt? A whore? Or every other negative words flowing out of your mouth so easily. We are all the same in front of God, cause we are ALL THE SAME: HUMANS. So, if you call them those words, then it goes the same with you (I have said this on my posts waaaaayy long ago). You call Normani a monkey, then you are also a monkey. You call Camila a camel, then you are also a camel. Now are you happy being called like that? ...............EXACTLY!!!

I’m not telling you who to stan or whether you should be an OT5 stan. Some of the people in the fandom indeed only stan 1 or 2 girls. Some of us are OT4 stans. Some of us are Camren shippers, but don’t really know about Fifth Harmony. Whoever you stan, please have respect to the other girls. Do a research about them as a person, what they have been promoting, and keep in mind that the world is much better if we just spread love instead of hates. You have a big platform: Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, YouTube. Some of you might have only 100 followers, some other might have more than 1000 followers, some others have more than 10K followers. Use those platform for something good, NOT for something bad. Now I’m asking you this question: IF YOU USE YOUR PLATFORM FOR SOMETHING BAD, YOU HURT PEOPLE, YOU THROW SHADES AND HATES HERE AND THERE, AND YOU SPREAD NEGATIVITIES, ARE YOU EVEN PROUD OF IT? Ask yourself this question whenever you wanna start spreading negative words and throw hates. I’m speaking this to the general fandom, NOT only to Harmonizers. I’m not a fan of her but her wisdom is also something I admire. Lucy worded it well here.

Now if you have nothing to do, or if you have a lot of free time, use your platform to support the girls instead. Vote for awards. Compliment them for what they do. Show them love. Keep reminding them that we support them no matter what. Be there for them. Cause there have been a lot of drama in these girls’ lives since 2014. Imagine yourself in their position and your lives are out there being spoken, talked, and posted anywhere. Some are true, and some are even made up stories. They have got enough drama, and don’t even add up more dramas to their lives. This is the example of the current drama.

So, that girl is Ty’s ex. Perez Hilton even makes it worse by making it like a love triangle. *rolls eyes*

Honestly though, this is more like a “love rectangle” (I’m making up a term here lol) cause Camren shippers are also going crazy out there. But I don’t believe this guy. Ever since the Fifth Harmony drama especially about the leaked picture of Lauren and Lucy, I don’t believe in media anymore. For God’s sake, he might even get paid for this.

Honestly there have been a lot of drama involving Lauren and Ty Dolla Sign before this one, but let’s focus on what happened in the past 24 hours. Otherwise, we are gonna write a novel about the girls. But, let’s see their indirect tweets about their reaction.

Ty Dolla Sign has been teasing by tweeting and deleting. And his ex also did the same. Have you ever wondered why this happened after the Camren denial? I keep wondering why drama has been put to our faces over and over again.

Now enough with the drama about Camila leaving the band or the questions like “Is Camila leaving the band?” cause she did. Ever since the leaked photos in October 2016, who are the center of all of these dramas? Other than the side projects or solo projects that have been going on, now trace back and focus on what the media has put on headlines that blow up all over the world. Everything revolves around LAUREN. Lauren’s leaked photo with Lucy, Lauren got caught in weed in the airport, Lauren tweeting about something during the Grammy that made the media put on headlines “Did Lauren Jauregui diss Camila Cabello?”, Lauren’s photoshoot with Lucy, Lauren’s denial about Camren, and now Lauren and Ty Dolla Sign dating rumors. I’m sorry, did I miss something here? Cause, it’s hard to put up with all the drama. But, have you ever wondered why it has to be Lauren being put on the spotlight of medias and headlines? The scandal is always about Lauren so far.

I’m gonna leave it there though. I leave rooms for interpretations and I leave you to believe what you wanna believe. But, I want you to keep your mind open. Have you ever wondered why they keep teasing by deleting tweets? Was it a mistake? Or are they playing with us? Are they playing with our minds? Are they playing with our hearts? If they know, it would blow up and get themselves being in the spotlight, if they don’t like it, why would they do it? They know people will focus on the deleted tweets.

I just wanna remind you this thing. Lauren is a VERY PRIVATE person. She doesn’t like her private lives to be talked in public and being posted all over the place. She keeps ranting about people talking about her private lives. Then, why all of a sudden, all of these are put on our faces like it was some kind of shiny treasure we have just found out of the clue we have been given and we are all mesmerized by it?

Anyway, I don’t wanna get delusional but Lauren tweeted that during the #ApologizeCamila was trending. Honestly, those tweet could be anything. It could show that she low-keyly supported Camila or she could be tweeting about things in general or she could be talking about her own personal lives and the headlines about Ty and her. But since we are so caught up with the whole Ty and Lauren dating rumors, we only perceive those tweets as her reactions towards it. Meanwhile, there might be other things she is implying to that we will never know what it is about unless she answers some of the fans’ replies.

Ever since the drama in 2016, especially that goddamn cursed Dec 18th, 2016, I never really believe in media, headlines, tweets, posts, NOT even the girls’ accounts. I only like Snapchat or Instagram stories since it seems like those are the only ways we can see something behind the scene. But, even now Snapchat can be staged, like the 7/27 Tour Spain when Camila was actually in the bus, but her face was not there. We could hear her teaching the girls Spanish, but then we still found only 4 girls in the camera. Sometimes, these girls just CAN’T pretend. Lauren also admitted herself that she has another Snapchat account, which means that she has a private Snapchat account and I’m sure the other girls do too.

What I’m implying here is no matter how much we wanna know about what happens behind-the-scene, WE KNOW NOTHING. No matter how much we think we know what’s going on in their lives, we know nothing. We can only watch their body languages and their expressions now as those are the most sincere language they can communicate to us, NOT some bullshit written interview or headlines on the media.

Keep your mind open and respect the girls, guys! And keep supporting these girls endlessly. They need us, especially Lauren. I can’t imagine being in her position where dramas keep haunting her life one after another.

[rkxsungwoon-blog]

☆ mga5 callbacks; june 27 ! performance: the last of the real ones by fall out boy (singing + piano) ↪ song reference ( 0:06 - 1:11, 2:42 - 3:33 ) / piano reference ( 0:07 - 1:14, 3:08 - 4:01 )

when the email arrives, sungwoon is preoccupied, which is what he’ll call being elbow deep in kimchi for posterity’s sake. the kitchen looks like the scene of a bloody murder, and he grimaces at the thought of having to clean it up alone (unless he can rope any of the guys into doing it for him). it’s one of those things that just had to be done during his day off from work, however, like… laundry, or cleaning the bathroom, or washing the floors. to be clear, sungwoon is not a fussy person by nature; he just feels better when he has a lot on his plate. keeping himself busy with a thousand different things means he has no time to dwell, and sungwoon has too much to dwell on these days. the mgas aren’t even first on his list of ‘shit sungwoon is very obviously and determinedly not touching with a ten foot pole’.

but they are there, a persistent reminder of decisions he’s made, for better or for worse. decisions they’ve all made, since this year is about more than just him and daniel. in some ways, he’s a supporting character this time around; the bulk of the anxiety, the nervousness, the fluttering feelings that come with your first performance ought to belong to woojin, kenta, and minhyun. sungwoon is a little older, a little wiser, no longer the wide-eyed newbie with shaky knees from last season. he wonders what it says about him that he sort of misses that. not the shaky knees part, but being excited for what’s to come—for the beginning of a journey, not a stroll down a familiar path.

unlike the rest, he’s not waiting on the results of their audition with the same fervor. his lack of interest isn’t born out of confidence; rather, the experience of having gone through all this once already mellows him out and makes him less desperate for the news, knowing it’ll come when it comes. thus, when the first member of empty enigma receives an all-important email from mnet, sungwoon is in no haste to check if he received one too. “i’ll do it later,” he says, turning his attention back to his work. neither kenta nor minhyun seem eager to open it anyway—until daniel arrives and shatters the calm with his exuberance.

sungwoon is only tangentially aware of the results (and the celebrations), but he can’t stop the smile from spreading over his face as he hears the other celebrate behind him. he’s thrilled on their behalf, obviously. in his biased opinion, all his friends deserve to make it till the end of this competition. from his self-imposed exile in the kitchen, he makes it a point to look over his shoulder and say, “i always knew you guys had it in you,” the way all gruff-but-proud dads do in the movies.  

but otherwise, sungwoon is, once again, elbow deep in kimchi no matter how much kenta and daniel bother him to check his phone please (“do you guys just not want to eat, then?” sungwoon grumbles). they’re too persistent for him to ignore, so he washes up and takes his sweet time in pulling out his phone to check the inbox (just to mess with them).

and maybe there is a brief moment where sungwoon’s throat constricts because he can’t see anything from mnet there, and he thinks, wildly, about how funny it would be if he was the only member of the band so far who didn’t actually qualify. but he refreshes and there it is, the callback notice with all the details he needs for the second round of pre-show performances. he keeps his expression impassive as he turns the screen to show the rest of his friends. “i’m in,” he says in his best hacker voice. and later, once they’ve bothered woojin into checking his emails as well, he can say, “we’re all in.” no dream-like disbelief to spare here; sungwoon believes that empty enigma deserves at least this much. it’s not full confirmation of all their hard work—they’re not on the show yet—but it’s a step forward.  

and they’re all taking it together.

-

sungwoon takes a few more days off work to figure out his performance. his boss doesn’t buy his cryptic, half-assed excuses for why he needs the vacation; she simply tells him to consider the time off his belated birthday gift. the kind edge to her smile makes sungwoon feel marginally better about being selfish here. if he really pushed himself, he could’ve managed to put something together while working days, but sungwoon wants to give the callbacks his entire focus. unlike daniel or kenta or even woojin, he doesn’t instinctively know what he’ll be performing. the back ups (and their back ups) from his first audition are obsolete or sound boring to him now. sungwoon feels the need to start over.

daniel’s doing an original song, from what he knows. sungwoon wonders if he should go the same route too. maybe do a song off the album, since they are meant to promote it whenever they can. hunched over his desk, he goes through the album tracklist multiple times in search of a potential song—and comes back to sleepless in phoenix and winter everywhere each time.  it would be the ultimate power play, right? to perform his own released song on a platform like the mgas? as squall, as empty enigma’s frontman, this should be his job.

but after spending a couple of hours reworking the songs to fit the two minute limit, sungwoon decides against it. they’re too blatant, too personal. he almost tells himself they belong to squall, but he knows that’s not entirely true. the album and these songs were the first time he tried to reconcile squall and sungwoon into one person. the results are… still a little confusing, but sungwoon made the attempt and feels better about harnessing them both overall. maybe they aren’t so different—all personas, all facets that ultimately combine to make him who he is.

searching for a replacement is a daunting task, mostly because it forces sungwoon to confront what type of performer he wants to be in front of the judges. the risky play would be to sing and dance, but it feels like a risk for risk’s sake and nothing else. he could just sing a powerhouse ballad or something (sungwoon knows he’s good enough to pull it off), but that doesn’t feel like him either—it’s too safe. the answer lies somewhere with squall, who all but shoves sungwoon to the song he eventually settles on. it’s… almost perfect: rock, with a sick piano accompaniment sungwoon quickly makes his own. it combines the best parts of him.

sleepless nights pile up as he works on the rearrangement, settling for nothing less than perfection. there is quite a bit to work through; his first attempt at the rearrangement is too dramatic, so he shifts gears and tweaks until he’s happy with the way it sounds. the big worry following that is pronunciation. doing a song purely in english is always tricky, but sungwoon has done enough covers with empty enigma to feel comfortable with it. the rest of the band members are busy with their own preparations in the meantime, and while he’d never call their house quiet, it does feel a little lonely. he consoles himself by thinking about how good performance day will be, to see them all come together.

(in his weaker moments, sungwoon nearly texts daniel, the lyrics from his chosen song swimming in his head. he’s not sure why it resonates with him so much. the translation into korean is clunky, the original meaning lost, but when he thinks of that ultra-kind of love you never walk away from, daniel’s face pops into his mind. at the end of the day, he doesn’t. it seems too much too soon, a blatant acknowledgement of whatever there is between them. sungwoon wishes he could name it, but it’s still too uncertain for him to believe in wholeheartedly. maybe one day, when he confronts the feelings he’s been avoiding, but for now—he thinks, and dreams).

-

“i’m not playing a keytar for the callbacks.”

at certain times in a young man’s life, he has to put his foot down. for sungwoon, this is one of those times. in his eagerness to pull off the best performance possible, he forgot to consider the logistics of… well, everything. specifically, how much effort and sheer physical strength it takes to lug a keyboard across town for a two minute performance. kenta suggests the keytar instead, and sungwoon almost warms up to the idea until he remembers how fucking stupid a keytar looks on anyone. this is not the time for sungwoon to look fucking stupid.

minhyun offers to help, which is nearly enough for sungwoon to insist on doing it himself, but god knows he can’t afford to be petty today. so he swallows his pride and accepts minhyun’s generous offer, promising vaguely to pay him back somehow. smiles, a little, when minhyun’s back is turned, so faintly that he doesn’t even know it until the moment passes. the whole band is dressed in empty enigma t-shirts, courtesy of kenta, to try and get some promo in where they can. it feels like they’re outfitted for a war, which might be fitting in the case of the mgas. at least

they arrive at the venue together with time to spare, though sungwoon doesn’t linger where he’s not meant to—he has a whole fucking keyboard to take care of. maybe he regrets insisting on bringing it, but it’s too late now! instead of focusing on his questionable upper body strength, he takes some time to survey the crowd gathered around. empty enigma are only five out of a hundred. it seemed like such a large number, but sungwoon has worked bigger crowds as squall before. still, this isn’t a dimly lit club, the haze of the smoke machine obscuring the audience’s faces. he actually spots quite a few familiar ones as he makes his way over to some free seats with the rest of the band.

which places them near people sungwoon is mildly uncomfortable to see here. he ends up seated directly in front of eunji and turns around briefly to offer a half-hearted smile. somehow, he doesn’t feel like it lands the way he intends it to. joohyun is further away, saving sungwoon the awkwardness of having to say hello, but she’s right behind daniel. and there is, despite his best efforts, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders as he thinks about the reality he’s been desperately trying to avoid by keeping busy and not allowing his mind to drift to daniel’s confession of a few weeks ago. sometimes sungwoon wishes he were more ignorant and less likely to pick up on the glaringly obvious clues in front of him.

this is not what he wants to think about during callbacks, not when he’s spent so long studiously ignoring the ramifications of whatever the fuck it means to be in love with someone who tells you he’s split between two people. in his darker moments, sungwoon wonders if he’ll ever be enough for someone on his own. while he knows daniel’s indecision doesn’t come from a place of cruelty, if he allows himself to dwell on it, he just feels like shit. in his lighter moments, sungwoon wonders if he could ever be selfless enough to retreat and make the decision that much simpler on daniel, to cut himself out of the equation altogether before he has a chance to get hurt, but—

(“i really, really like you.”)

if only he weren’t greedy. if only he didn’t want so desperately to be chosen this time.

his heart might be a mess, but his head is still alert enough to note the entrance of the five ceos and the hush that descends throughout the room. sungwoon recalls their faces with startling clarity from the previous year, and thinks wryly that he might have an edge on most others here. he’s familiar with being judged by them. but with that comes regret as well; he’d felt inadequate for the first time in a while in front of their eyes during the last season. if sungwoon knew they would be present for this round of judging, he likely would’ve done something different to show he took their criticisms to heart and worked hard to improve. sing and dance, damn the risk, just to make it clear he respected them enough to work on their notes.

it’s too late now. resting a hand on the keyboard propped up beside his chair, sungwoon swallows a sigh and plasters a smile on his face. at the end of the day, he’s still excited about his performance the direction he’s chosen to take. sungwoon just hopes his oversight won’t come back to bite him in the ass. his earlier confidence taking another hit, he’s a little quieter than normal as the ceos begin calling individual performers up one after another. the people in front of the band are rowdy enough on their own; sungwoon makes a face in their direction, then leans over to woojin to whisper, “you’d think the loud crowd would tone it down for the cameras,” to have woojin nod in agreement.

the performances blur together soon enough. a few stand out enough for sungwoon to straighten up in his seat in interest, and some have him slumping down and cringing. kenta’s chatty, likely because he’s nervous, so the bulk of sungwoon’s commentary is directed at him. part of him misses the familiarity of daniel, the long-suffering patience with which he endured sungwoon’s reactions last year. he wants desperately to talk to him, but he’s scared of looking over and seeing something he doesn’t want to. so he contents himself with talking to kenta and woojin, laughing and critiquing and expressing excitement for their performances, until—

he glances over by accident in time to see joohyun lean forward to whisper something in daniel’s ear. sungwoon blinks hard and tears his eyes away, ignoring the voice in his head that whispers, they look so good together. it’s different knowing daniel cares about joohyun and different seeing it in front of him, the easy way in which they both seem to fit, like two puzzle pieces put together at last. maybe this is what love should look like, the proper fucking kind of love. whatever sungwoon feels still seems unnatural some days, like he’s going against nature and everything right in the world and this heartache is his punishment for it. maybe he’ll hurt a thousand times over for the slimmest glimmer of hope—

running a hand through his hair and destroying the hairstyle he carefully worked on this morning, sungwoon tells himself to snap the fuck out of it. this is not the time or place for personal problems. compartmentalization is a wondrous skill, and he retreats into the safe, protective nonchalance of squall. but even squall is morose and annoyed and burning with the bitter kind of jealousy sungwoon specifically does not want to engage in, so he breaks away from him as well and finds himself drifting.

when daniel’s name is called, sungwoon is still a little distracted and dazed, able to offer only a hasty, “good luck,” before he’s gone. he barely notices minhyun has moved into the seat beside him until his hand wraps around sungwoon’s, and he’d laugh at how regular this seems to have become if it weren’t for the tight feeling in his chest. if he didn’t need this and the cheap comfort it provides. whether it’s minhyun or just the physical contact itself, the brief moment anchors him more solidly to the ground and he thinks, it’s okay. i have this.

daniel’s performance is as good as sungwoon expects it to be, and he’s so proud of his friend for having the courage to do an original song. he wishes he had enough courage to lean over and say so, but something keeps him rooted in place. kenta and minhyun perform shortly after, with sungwoon jokingly telling kenta to “hit ‘em with the high and low,” before his performance. they’re both good—minhyun, especially, is much better than sungwoon expected—and he can’t help but think that this is his band. all these talented individuals are his friends. woojin absolutely kills it with his dancing as well; sungwoon genuinely didn’t know he was that good. giving woojin’s shoulder a gentle, congratulatory squeeze when he returns to his seat, sungwoon turns to the front and awaits his turn.  

by some twist of fate, hyun bin is the one to call his name. it’s ironic enough that he feels like it might be on purpose. hyun bin was the one to deliver his elimination sentence last year, his complimentary words offset by the harsh truth. sungwoon sucks in a deep breath and stands up to answer the summons, keyboard in tow. full circle, right? he resolutely does not look at daniel or joohyun or any of his friends as he stands in front of the judges, his back straight and head held high, focus narrowing on the stage and only the stage. no time for bullshit—this is his spotlight.

“hello, my name is ha sungwoon.” diligently, he sinks into a bow before throwing the ceos a smile. “i didn’t think we would meet again so soon.” or at all, but life has a funny way of working out. “i’m no longer the tiny giant from last year; i’ve grown.” literally, because shoe lifts, which he points to with a sheepish laugh, but in skill as well. he hopes that much will be obvious on its own. “i will be performing the last of the real ones by fall out boy today. thank you for this opportunity.” with practiced ease, he slips his keyboard out of its cover and finishes setting up, mind calming as he stands poised to begin.

the first notes he plays stand on their own, bereft of sungwoon’s vocals. he’d thought about cutting straight to the first verse initially, but the initial moment of accompaniment grounds him, puts him in a familiar territory. everything else falls away, like a crumbling cliff-face into the dark sea below. thinking (or overthinking) is not necessary when he plays the piano; it comes from somewhere within, his fingers guided by an unseen force. the piano rearrangement is a lot softer than the original, but sungwoon intended it that way on purpose. the stripped down version allows his vocals to stand out more without sacrificing the integrity of the song. but it’s still representative of him and the things he loves best: singing, playing the piano, and getting creative with his music. he can’t think of anything else that could better express the artist he is and wants to be.  

i was just an only child of the universe and then i found you and then i found you you are the sun and i am just the planets spinning around you spinning around you

you were too good to be true gold plated but what's inside you but what's inside you i know this whole damn city thinks it needs you but not as much as i do as much as i do, yeah

the ghost of a smile touches his lips as he flows easily into the first verse. initially, it is slow, a gentle confession he pours his heart into. eyes fluttering shut, sungwoon channels his own feelings of discovery and sense of wonderment at falling in love so intensely for the first time into his words. it’s supposed to be tentative and meek. you’re supposed to get swept up in the tide, especially when the person you care about burns more brightly than you do. his eyes snap open as he transitions into the second part of the verse, growing louder as the near accusation that pours from his mouth. the fear and anxiety is something sungwoon knows well, and for now he embraces it. a song is always about more than the words and the voice singing it—it’s about the emotions it elicits in the singer and the audience. and he’s peeling back the layers here to leave himself bare.

his gaze drifts to daniel momentarily as he sings the final three lines of the verse, maybe because he’s feeling brave (maybe because he’s just feeling it). and it’s no longer than the span of a heartbeat, but the heat in sungwoon’s eyes morphs into something delicate as he thinks, you know what i mean, right?

'cause you're the last of a dying breed write our names in the wet concrete i wonder if your therapist knows everything about me i'm here in search of your glory there's been a million before me that ultra-kind of love you never walk away from you're just the last of the real ones

the small pause as he sings, yeah, gives sungwoon a chance to collect himself before launching into the chorus. his voice reaches a crescendo while his fingers fly across the keys. the chorus is the highlight, the culmination of all that lovesick desperation. sungwoon doesn’t know if he’d call this a typical love song, but he doesn’t want to sing a typical song for a typical love. he needs more—that ultra fucking kind of love. his mouth twists into a smirk at the word glory, courtesy of squall. there’s been a million on the stage before him, likely, but as sungwoon looks at the judges near the end of the chorus, he wants to be more than just a number.

i'm here at the beginning of the end oh, the end of infinity with you i'm here at the beginning of the end oh, the end of infinity with you

i'm done with having dreams the thing that i believe oh, you drain all the fear from me i'm done with having dreams the thing that i believe you drain the fear from me

he softens once more for the first part of the bridge, his voice growing quieter to match the gentle accompaniment. in his mind’s eye, sungwoon is the only one in the room, singing to himself. and maybe he should be scared of being so vulnerable when more than a hundred people are looking at him to judge. the second half of the bridge all but punches through his apprehensions, face splitting into a genuine, unabashed grin as he sings without any fear. he can’t relate fully—sungwoon still has too many dreams he’s not ready to put to bed just yet, but the thing he believes in is himself, his own capabilities. most of that is thanks to himself. he thinks about how he’d run away after the last mgas, lost and broken and embarrassed, but he’s changed now. fortune favors the bold. it should favor him.

'cause you're the last of a dying breed write our names in the wet concrete i wonder if your therapist knows everything about me i'm here in search of your glory there's been a million before me that ultra-kind of love you never walk away from you're just the last of the real ones

because of the way he rearranged the song, sungwoon decides to play around with the ending. the final line builds into a high note he holds for a few seconds, the accompaniment lingering as it fades. his heart is in his throat as he blinks and sinks into another bow, thanking the audience for watching his performance. without his voice and the piano, he suddenly feels a little exposed and hastens to get offstage. heading back to his seat on unsteady legs (not just because of the keyboard’s bulk; he bets he looks hilarious trying to drag something of that size along with him), sungwoon all but collapses in his seat. the post-performance buzz fades slowly, awareness creeping back in at a snail’s pace, but then—

sungwoon starts as daniel reaches for his hand, his fingers curling open to receive him of their own accord. a jolt runs down his spine at the moment of contact. eyebrow raised, he glances over in question, wondering if he’s okay, wondering if he didn’t mean to reach for someone else. but daniel’s hand wraps around his own, steady and sure, and sungwoon’s eyes soften despite his own scattered misgivings.

maybe he’s destined to end up here every single time, feeling foolish and embarrassed by his own thoughts yet accepting whatever daniel gives him anyway like he hasn’t been waiting for it. maybe he’s destined to take it all—the ugly and the confusing parts, the truths that hurt and the lies daniel won’t say. maybe if sungwoon could do it all again, he’d do it exactly like this. he’d choose to be here. he’d choose to fall in love with daniel (but, his heart supplies, that was never really up to him, was it?)

sungwoon brushes his thumb over daniel’s knuckles before squeezing tightly, fiercely, leftover courage from the performance making him bold. he doesn’t know exactly where they are or what to expect, but for now he’ll take this moment and hold it in his heart.

that ultra-kind of love you never walk away from—

yeah, he thinks. it might be.