#gah they’re just soooooooo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wuahae · 1 year ago

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PEACH . GAH i've been meaning to review this for a long time but i haven't found the time until now. But it's a friday night so here we go!!

to start off i just wanna say your writing is SOOOOOOOO...... idek the right words but its so Pretty but in a quaint way . like a poignant way where you don't need the extra frills to convey the emotions like every word you put down has purpose . is what it feels like. off the bat the ambiance is SO pretty it's lowkey giving won kar wai with how the prose grounds you in the world... its all about the Little things that tie you down and immerse you in the scene. the cracks in the wall the ambient noise of your surroundings,, it's a lot yes its noisy yes but it's around you—it's without you, like you're inside the glass looking out. and then the phone rings, and the glass cracks, you're thrust into the cacophony and it's like you're drowning in the water that you can't escape ,,,, you invoke this feeling so well like i'm really Feeling it ... LIKE ITS SO GOOD! not to mention:

The sink is dripping again. You’ll have to get it fixed. Everything.

LIKE MANNN the double meaning + leaky faucets are just so personal to me ... they are a part of such a fragile place in my heart ... its like akin to a bleeding heart to Me like no matter how hard you try turn the handle or press the knob closed it will keep leaking ...

It’s never that easy, you’ve always found it hard to let go of routines. The habit of waking up, turning over to give him a kiss, making coffee together. You don’t even like coffee that much, but for him you would’ve learned to love anything. For him, you even learned to love him. With all the pain and hurt. Despite him, you loved him. It’s all gone, and it’s okay.

LIKE. UGH ................. what an end to the beginning scene btw its like so perfect i'm giving you a chef's kiss .

Vernon knows your coffee and takeout orders by heart, and you do his. Even if he’s a worse texter than talker, you still very much enjoy his company, and mostly the ability to exist together in comfortable silence.

also i love how you establish vernon and yn's relationship in this passage (and the passage before) it's very ... succinct without feeling infodumpy like i feel a lot of character dynamic explanations can come off as. like it's so natural? its the little things that make a fic read so well <3

Your knees feel like they’re about to give out, so you shake your head a little, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks behind your scarf. “There’s gonna be a party later tonight, if you uh- If you wanna come,” Vernon tells you. “It’s Monday,” it almost comes out as a question, eliciting a laugh from the boy. “I’ll text you the address later, in case you change your mind. I’ll be there.”

ITS JUST SOOOO..... like vernon is really just some guy to me but its Because he's just some guy that this works so well. he Knows you and every little interaction they have feels like it's been rinse and repeated and recycled for years like its so! established!! yn says he's hard to read but that doesn't change the fact that his smile makes everything a little easier it doesn't change that there's a comfort they both find in each other.... huuuuu.

For a fleeting moment you feel like everything’s going to be okay. That night you fall asleep wondering what it’d be like to hold Vernon’s hands on a 2am walk. You dream about your kitchen window being gone. / That night he falls asleep wondering if he should’ve texted you, if you’re even okay. He dreams about the stranger falling from the window in slow motion, and wakes up in cold sweat before they could hit the ground.

PLEAAASEEEE DON'T. (softly) please don't .

It’s past 5am once you get home, managing to fall asleep without tossing and turning for the first time in weeks. You don’t have a dream that night. / He dreams about the feeling of your lips on his.

WHAT ISACTUALLY WRONG WITH UOU!?!!@!?@

You know it’s going to melt and be gone in a few days, and the thought puts a frown on your face. You wish you never got attached to something so impermanent.

the difference in attitude between snow melting between this scene vs. the beginning scene .....

You weren’t sure what went wrong, or where, but winter always brings a crippling feeling of cosmic insignificance into your life. Loneliness slowly turns into a black hole that absorbs all light and happiness in your life, and you find it harder and harder with each passing day to reach out. By the end of the year the light is barely a pinhole, and you’re sitting in the kitchen once again, watching the fireworks in silence.

ok besides the fact that this just really fucks i'm really obsessed w the metaphor consistency here like. cosmic insignificance -> black hole -> the exploration of how hopeless it makes you feel as it absorbs anything and everything .... its just good writing!!! also ugh. the kitchen once again being symbolic of your loneliness . y/n and her perpetual mouse moment ...... and even when she tries to reach out to tell vernon happy new year (the fireworks light through the kitchen window ,,,,) it doesn't end up amounting to much besides for reestabling that black hole, another thing lost to the darkness ("then it's dark again.)

“I found it in the park. I was gonna bring it back, but then things kind of… happened,” His voice is barely above a whisper and he looks a little too deep into your eyes.

THE SNOWMAN ........ i'm just so sad ....

Maybe you’ve already fallen hard, hard enough that it did break your body in unspeakable ways. You get up to leave, barely standing on shaky legs, not completely aware of your surroundings. The ringing in your ears gets louder and the air feels a little too thick and the sink is dripping again, and you know you’ll have to get it fixed. Cold hands come to rest on your face, Vernon’s forehead against yours and you wonder if love is supposed to hurt like this. You close your eyes, the snow is falling and your snowman is smiling at you warmly, your scarf around its neck.

You're kidding ... ok first off i Have to mention the callback to the dripping sink (your bleeding heart...) and how . you still need to fix it (everything needs to be fixed) but then on top of that . how you falling is also a callback to vernon's dream, falling from the window except this time you did hit the ground. and maybe he didn't see you hit the ground but he's met with your broken bones... love hurts and you're hurt but the matter of the fact is you're still in love (the snow is falling and the snowman smiles back at you. looks like it wasn't so impermanent after all). how he kisses your forehead and smiles (his smile always made everything easier) and when you dream that night you dream of the pond in the early spring (when snow melts it becomes water, when snow melts it becomes spring). ugh....

Spring always knew how to take your troubles away - it even happened a little too easily, the ice around your heart melting with the first golden rays of sunshine. You know you’re going to be okay. / Maybe he could help you fix the dripping sink in your bathroom, too

:"""")

It’s weird to have someone, especially him, in your kitchen, looking so domestic and so pretty in the early morning sunlight.

huuuu HUUUUUUU ITS JUST SO. this entire time your window being symbolic of yn's loneliness and stagnancy... how everything will change except for that damn window at night and your loneliness and how it makes you feel like a shell of someone you used to be... "the sight comforting you with its continuity. Sometimes all you have is the view and the sill where you dangle your feet into a reality where you don’t feel so left behind by life" in that kitchen where you're always alone. but this time it's morning and there's the sun shining through that window and you're going to be Okay ... maybe he can even help you fix that leaky sink ..... I'M SERIOUSLY LOSING IT

The air feels thick from all the words left unsaid, but they can wait. For now, you’re okay with this. “I don’t wanna go to that party anymore.” “I’ve got a better idea.”

HHHHUUUUUUUUUUUU..................

When you wake up, his bag is in the corner of your room, his toothbrush is still next to yours in the cup, and the sink isn’t dripping anymore. He’s still asleep, and you trace his features in your mind, trying to memorise how beautiful he looks even like this. You know you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime. A fleeting moment of everything and nothing.

IM ROARING . RIPPING MY HAIR OUT . ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEE....!!!!!! the book end that parallels the beginning ... THE EXACT SAME SENTENCE TOO? YOU KNOW YOU'LL NEVER LOVE ANYONE AS MUCH AS THIS, NOT IN THIS LIFETIME .... but this time it's not over . it's just a fleeting moment of everything and nothing ...............you're actually insane for that . you're insane for this fic .

parallels & almosts

♡ pairing: vernon x reader

♡ genre: friends to lovers, light angst

♡ word count: 10k

♡ warnings: slight description of panic attacks, alcohol consumption, slow burn-ish lol, occasional cursing, a little sad bc i wrote it in winter, yearning

a/n: i wrote this last christmas inspired by my first sem at uni, and finally got around to proofreading :) hope you like it, and if you have any thoughts about it id love to know <3

masterlist

♡ ♡ ♡

One day you’ll inevitably fall for someone. Someone, who will touch you for the first time like no one ever did before, and maybe no one ever will again. Full of love, admiration, and tenderness. Your chest is going to fill with pain and unending yearning, a fleeting moment that’s going to feel like nothing and everything whenever you think about it. And you’ll fall hard, hard enough that if any of it was real it might break your body in unspeakable ways.

When you wake up the next day you realise you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

Then it’s over.

You’re sitting in the bathroom, staring at the uneven paint where the tiles meet the wall, wondering if you could ever manage to crawl into one of the cracks there and disappear forever. No clichéd metaphor seems fitting enough, even though you understand you are not the first, and you won’t be the last either, to experience heartbreak quite like this. Something that squishes your heart until it feels numb, catches in your throat in a way that you can’t even find the words to explain the pain, a constant gloss over your eyes, like tears you can’t blink away.

Your upstairs neighbour is just a little too loud, the static of the tv humming just a little too much, drunk people screaming outside just a little too close, and it all feels so overbearing. You close your eyes, skin buzzing with all the loudness of the inside and outside combined. It’s hard to focus on one thing when it feels like the whole world is happening at once without you in it.

Then the phone rings.

The world stops, but your breathing quickens as panic takes over. It’s all so much in a way that seems impossible to deal with. At least for now, in this passing moment, even if it feels like an eternity. The ringing gets more and more deafening, your breaths quickening, and you know it won’t stop. It never really does. The cacophony of sounds slowly fades out, the only thing you can hear is your own body; your heartbeat, your own breaths, tired gasps for air. It’s okay. You claw at your skin, anything to distract yourself from the ongoing panic attack, even if you know it won’t help. It never does.

It’s okay.

Tears burn the corners of your eyes, even though you don’t know how long you’ve been crying. The world is slowly closing in, and it’s just you on the cold bathroom floor at 2am.

Is it okay?

It’s silent. So suddenly and so loudly, it almost knocks the air back into your lungs, as if the ground is being pulled from underneath your feet. The hot tears suddenly feel ice cold against your burning skin, and exhaustion crashes down on you. The sink is dripping again.

You’ll have to get it fixed.

Everything.

It’s a slow process to drag yourself from the bathroom to bed. The rain knocks politely on the window and you’re tempted to let it in, but instead just stare out into the cold night. The snow is slowly melting away, and you wish it washed away all the thoughts plaguing your mind too. It’s never that easy, you’ve always found it hard to let go of routines. The habit of waking up, turning over to give him a kiss, making coffee together. You don’t even like coffee that much, but for him you would’ve learned to love anything. For him, you even learned to love him. With all the pain and hurt.

Despite him, you loved him.

It’s all gone, and it’s okay.

“You didn’t pick up all weekend,” Vernon says in his usual nonchalant tone without as much as looking in your direction.

After you finally managed to calm down, sleep seemed much more inviting than looking at your phone. The next few days felt so peaceful in isolation, that it wouldn’t have been right to disturb it.

“Sorry.”

He only hums in response, quietly scribbling away in his notebook next to you. His hair is hidden behind one of his many beanies, one earphone in his ear, the other one between the two of you on the desk as a silent offering from his part. It’s the middle of the lecture, but you wordlessly take it anyway, knowing well that you won’t pay attention today no matter what.

Vernon is hard to read, even if you’ve been friends for a few years now. He mostly keeps to himself, barely showing if something is going on in his life. He occasionally lets you in on the big things, like when his sister graduated high school, or when his family got a new cat. You weren’t completely sure if he shared these things with you out of common courtesy - you were glad when he did anyway. He was a little more curious and attentive when you told him about something, but never asked on his own.

You get lost in thought, only coming back to reality when your favourite song quietly starts playing in your ear. Vernon is putting his phone back down, giving you a small smile before returning to the paper in front of him. His eyes twinkle in the cheap fluorescent light of the lecture hall, and even if the thought makes your chest feel tight, he does look beautiful even at 9am on a Monday.

He furrows his eyebrows, tapping his pen against the desk to the beat of the music. You rest your head on top of your barely started notes, glancing at Vernon from the corner of your eye before getting lost in thought for the rest of the lecture. You only notice that it’s over when the boy next to you is already leaving, gently tapping your shoulder and giving you a small wave before walking off into the cold fog of the morning. The professor starts turning the lights off, and you scurry to gather your belongings, making your way to the exit. Suddenly you hear music in your ear once again, and you realise you forgot to give Vernon his earphones back.

However, music means he’s near, so you try and remember which way he went, and spot him a few benches over in front of the building. He’s standing in a lopsided circle with his friends, their laughter visible in the crisp air. You shuffle over to the group, standing a little awkwardly next to Vernon, who’s too invested in whatever conversation they’re having to notice your arrival. One of the boys spots you, and you give him a brief smile before deciding to finally tap Vernon’s shoulder. He quickly turns to you, the corners of his lips quirking up just enough for you to notice. You don’t want to overstay your welcome, so you quickly take the earphone and hand it back to him. His mouth turns into an O shape, and you can feel your cheeks warming up, so you look back down at your palm to avoid staring at his face even longer. He takes it from your hand, his cold fingers igniting fire in their wake. His eyes search for yours, and as soon as they meet you feel a little wobbly, a little warm, and a lot vulnerable.

You only decided on attending any classes you had that day to avoid sitting at home even longer, stewing in your own sadness and tears. When sitting in your bed that morning you felt as if you’d be okay, as if you’ll be able to get through all this without anyone knowing or noticing. As Vernon’s eyes bore into yours, you just knew that he could see everything. You were never sure how close he considered you, and you were always too scared to assume that you are close in the first place.

Your knees feel like they’re about to give out, so you shake your head a little, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks behind your scarf.

“There’s gonna be a party later tonight, if you uh- If you wanna come,” Vernon tells you.

“It’s Monday,” it almost comes out as a question, eliciting a laugh from the boy.

“I’ll text you the address later, in case you change your mind. I’ll be there.”

His smile always makes everything a little easier, so you nod and turn to leave. For a second he looks like he might say something else, a concerned look on his face, but he fades back into the conversation instead.

As soon as you’re out of earshot Vernon’s got multiple curious eyes on him, waiting for some sort of an explanation. They all know you to some degree of course, but they haven’t seen their friend like this in quite some time.

“Dude,” Seungkwan is the first one to voice his thoughts.

“What?”

“Did we miss something?'' His tone is enough to make Vernon’s eyes widen. “Just a heads up, I’m gonna keep an eye on you tonight. And I’m gonna be updating the group chat constantly, too.”

A round of laughter and general agreement follows Seungkwan’s statement, and though Vernon loves his friends, he has to admit that they can be too much sometimes. Even if he considers himself a private person, he does still keep them up to date most of the time, except at times like this. At times when not only his feelings are concerned.

He could see even during class how out of it you were, certainly he could, but he didn’t want to bring up something you were not comfortable sharing on your own. So all he did was slide a lone earphone over, and put on a playlist he made for you. Of course, he would never tell you that - or anyone for that matter. His feelings and his playlist were kept as his most treasured secrets, even if they’re only meaningful to him. He would be lying to himself if he tried to deny the crush he’s been nursing on you since you met in your first Monday morning class, sitting in the same spot as today. He immediately memorised your name during the quick introduction game the professor insisted on, making use of it as much as he could during class, and right after, too. Grabbing coffee seemed like the logical choice at the time, texting all his friends for recommendations as soon as he could. Once class was over he made his move, striking up conversation with you, albeit a little awkwardly. Surprisingly even to him, you agreed, and shortly after you found yourselves at a small café just off campus. The impromptu hangout felt almost too comfortable for it to be your first time meeting, and Vernon couldn’t think about the way you laughed at his terrible jokes without getting butterflies in his stomach, not even years later.

He later had to face the fact that you’re taken, and even if it broke his heart a little, he enjoyed your company a lot more than for something like this to keep him from you. So here you are, almost 3 years later, still looking at each other with the same unmistakable tenderness that only you two seem to ignore. Always smiling brighter, laughing louder, and whispering even more quietly when the other is around.

You are his first love, even if he would never admit it to anyone, not even himself.

The dim orange street light illuminates the kitchen in a way that squeezes your soul just a little too tight, making you feel nostalgic for things that maybe never really happened. Snowflakes land on the window and melt away slowly, racing down the glass. Lately it only snows at night, so you decide to stay up late, the party Vernon invited you to long forgotten.

Tonight it’s a little different somehow. The air feels heavier than usual, and the streets are fully empty, which is an exceptionally rare sight this close to campus. You open the window, and climb up to sit on the sill, dangling your feet into the night. The crippling pressure on your chest doesn’t seem to cease, and you wish to be able to cry and scream, let it all out while it’s dark and quiet.

In the distance you spot a figure slowly treading through the snow, dressed in all black with their hands in their pockets. Their steps are completely silent except for the occasional crunch of the fresh snow. The knowledge that someone else is just this restless at the same time as you brings an odd sense of peace. Wordless company on such a lonely night.

For a fleeting moment you feel like everything’s going to be okay.

That night you fall asleep wondering what it’d be like to hold Vernon’s hands on a 2am walk. You dream about your kitchen window being gone.

Vernon waits for you patiently at the party that night, checking his phone way too often to make sure he doesn’t miss any of your calls or texts. A few drinks and too much teasing from his friends later he’s already getting ready to leave when some girl sidles up to him, giggling drunkenly right into his face. He remembers her from one of his classes, but not her name, and he doesn’t bother asking either.

“Heeey,” the girl chimes. “Are you uh- are you here uh- alone?” She stumbles a little, both with her words and her steps.

Vernon hesitates, but nods anyway.

“Really? So am I, that’s uh-” Vernon gets nervous that the girl might end up ruining his shoes. “That’s so cool. Wanna, do you wanna-”

She closes her eyes for a second and blindly reaches out for something to steady herself, so he grabs her arms on instinct.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re sooo cute, come with me, please?” She tries to pout at Vernon, but it comes out as almost every other emotion instead.

He shuffles through his choices mentally, deciding to make his way back into the living room with the girl clinging to him for dear life. The mind numbing music makes him wince a little, and he makes his way upstairs as fast as possible to get away from the hardcore party scene, not really in the mood for the smell of sweat and alcohol combined with the loudest room he could imagine in this moment. He manages to find an empty room on the third try, having seen a lot more naked people than he’s comfortable with in the span of the past few minutes.

He helps the girl lay down, and she mumbles something similar to a “don’t go, you’re so cute”, which Vernon decides to ignore, and turns her on her side instead - just in case she gets sick. He quickly makes his leave, and he can hear retching from the other side of the closed door as soon as he’s outside. It makes him wanna leave as soon as possible, so he does just that, bidding bye to some of his friends before vanishing into the dark. He’s never been so happy about silence before.

The night is tranquil, even his own footsteps barely audible as he makes his way home. When he hears rustling he looks around to find the source, finding someone climbing into the windowsill in a nearby building. He gets worried, immediately wondering if he should call someone, or maybe yell out to the stranger to stop, the 5th floor is a long way from the ground, it’s not worth it. He decides against it when he sees the stranger quietly settle down, but watches for a bit longer anyway before deciding to continue his journey.

That night he falls asleep wondering if he should’ve texted you, if you’re even okay.

He dreams about the stranger falling from the window in slow motion, and wakes up in cold sweat before they could hit the ground.

You find yourself spending more and more nights in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the fridge and lone passersby keeping you company as you watch the world go by. It was peaceful in a terrible way, one which you were sure was no good for you. That window became your survival, even if it made your chest ache with the sights it presented occasionally. Some nights were different. Some nights your phone buzzed to life with a new text from Vernon, asking about your day or just trying to make conversation. With how unavailable you made yourself he suddenly became better at texting than talking. You had to admit that it always made you a little sad when you didn’t receive his almost routinely ‘hey :)’ just a little past midnight. You always started by scowling him for being up late again, to which he responded by telling you the same.

It’s around 1am when your phone almost buzzes off the countertop.

Vernon: hey :)

Vernon: its finally snowing!!

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that the snowfall at night has been almost the only constant in your life lately.

Vernon: where r u???

Vernon: i know ur up we’re gonna go build a snowman

Vernon: dress warm!!

You’re about to force yourself to lie and turn him down, but something snaps inside of you and you find yourself asking for a location before hurriedly pulling on some warmer clothes. To your surprise he asks to meet in the park about a block from your complex, so you make your way over, waiting a few minutes for Vernon to arrive too.

He greets you with a warm smile, barely half his face visible from his beanie and scarf, his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

“Why are you even up this late?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“My roommates threw a party,” he closes his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, his breath drawing the prettiest shapes in the crisp air. “But I could be asking the same.”

“You could, but don’t,” he laughs at your response. “It’s really fucking cold tonight though, so let’s hurry up with that snowman.”

He grins at you and gently bumps his elbow into yours as you set off to find a good patch of snow. It starts out mellow, rolling snowballs around until you get to a size you’re happy with. However, Vernon gets bored quickly and decides to start targeting you with his snowballs instead. The park is quickly filled with your laughter and screaming, chasing each other around until you’re both too tired to run anymore. He flops down into the snow onto his back, sprawling all his limbs out. He’s still laughing quietly, interrupting himself with a scream when you throw one last snowball at his chest, half of the snow ending up in his face as it falls apart on impact. Your eyes widen as he jumps to his feet, an excited squeal leaving your lips when he sets off running in your direction. You try to make your escape, but of course he’s quicker and tackles you to the ground almost immediately. You both end up on your backs, your heads almost touching and the quiet night comes to life as you burst out in giggles almost in perfect harmony.

“I think there’s a convenience store a few blocks away,” Vernon says once he’s calmed down enough to talk, and turns his head towards you.

“You hungry?” You move your gaze towards him, and suddenly his face is way too close - you could count his eyelashes or maybe get lost in his eyes forever. For a brief second it’s silent except for the pounding of your heart that you’re sure even he can hear.

“Yeah,” he whispers in response, not breaking eye contact. You swallow nervously and your eyes flicker to his lips. “I- Let’s go.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. Neither of you move.

You feel like even the world stops moving for a second, out of politeness, to give you time to think about what to do. You wonder what you’re so scared of, what is it about him that makes your brain short circuit with a single look. The thought of ruining your friendship with Vernon climbs to the front of your mind and suddenly it’s all you can think about. Your body moves on its own as you finally get up, dusting your clothes off and reaching down to help Vernon up. He stares at you dumbfounded, but takes your hand anyway and stands in front you in silence, watching you chew anxiously on your lower lip. Even if he doesn’t know all that’s been bothering you the past few weeks, he can clearly see that something isn’t quite right.

Suddenly you find himself in his embrace, his head squished to yours and his fingers tangled in the back of your coat. He holds you like this for a bit, playfully ruffling your hair when he finally pulls away.

“There’s nothing convenience store ramen can’t fix,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Especially since you’re paying,” you grin at him, and he only laughs at you, shaking his head a little. You never want this night to end.

The walk is quick and goes by in comfortable silence, only stealing glances at each other occasionally. You’re sitting under the flickering neon sign of the store, waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, Vernon almost falling asleep over his food. You offer him your couch for the night, but he politely declines, since surely the party must be over by now. You give him a small nod, poking away impatiently at your noodles, deciding to dig in whether it’s done or not, too hungry and tired to care. The clock above the cashier reads a little past 4am.

With your stomachs full you’re standing outside the shop, mesmerised by the way the green neon highlights Vernon’s face. Even like this, he looks tired and almost a little sad. Your thoughts wander to how little he has said since you left the park, and it leaves a weird taste in your mouth.

“Thank you.” You spot the perplexed look in his eyes. “For tonight. It was… nice. So, thank you.”

He has way too much to say and way too little consciousness left in him for the night. He tries to string his thoughts together in an order so that they make sense, but the lack of sleep takes over and he only manages a tired smile. He can see something in your eyes that’s new to him, but he decides to save that conversation for another time.

Once you say your goodbyes you slowly make your way home, walking past the half finished snowman. Once you reach the other end of the park you let out a sigh and turn around. You pull your freezing hands from your pockets and get to work once again, rolling a head for the snowman and looking around for some twigs for the arms. You put on a few pebbles as decorations, a smile adorning the snowman’s face now. You take your phone and quickly snap a picture to send to Vernon, even though you’re sure he’s already fast asleep.

It’s past 5am once you get home, managing to fall asleep without tossing and turning for the first time in weeks. You don’t have a dream that night.

When Vernon stumbles through the front door he’s greeted by Seungkwan and Soonyoung watching some movie in the living room, probably half asleep as they don’t seem to notice his arrival. He takes off his shoes and coat, quietly moving towards his room when he hears a tired yawn from the couch. Seungkwan blinks at him sleepily, Vernon greeting him with a small wave that either goes unnoticed, or the boy really was asleep.

“You missed movie night,” Seungkwan croaks out. “What time is it anyways?”

“It’s really, really late. I just had to check on a friend.”

“A friend…” Seungkwan studies Vernon’s face. “You look like shit, dude.”

Vernon only looks back at him with a tired expression, letting out a low sigh before disappearing into his room. He flops down on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He thinks back to your face so close to his, all the things he could’ve said and done. The moon peeks through his blinds, and he wonders if he kissed you would you have kissed him back.

He dreams about the feeling of your lips on his.

Vernon never replies to your finished snowman, and somehow it bothers you a lot more than it should. For the first time this winter the snow didn’t end up melting by the morning, and it’s even there covering the ground in a plush white layer a few days later.

It’s one of those nights again where the dark amplifies your loneliness, and you find yourself in the park again, sitting on a bench in front of your snowman. It’s leaning to the side a little, the daytime sun not taking mercy on it. You stare into its pebble eyes, your elbows resting on your knees and your chin in your palms - almost studying the little creature you made. You know it's going to melt and be gone in a few days, and the thought puts a frown on your face. You wish you never got attached to something so impermanent.

You check your phone for the time, but instead have to face a missed call and a message from Vernon. All it reads is “r u up?”, and you mentally cringe at the tinder-esque nature of his texting habits. You decide not to reply.

You get up to leave, but fix the snowman up before you do so, wrapping your scarf around its neck. You zip your coat up as high as possible and set off with silent steps. Being alone feels suffocating, even though you’re the one who turned Vernon down once again. It’s been weird seeing him around at school, only being able to think about how pretty he looks under cheap neon lights. He doesn’t make much of an effort to reach out either.

Later that week one of his friends invites you to some party he’s hosting, but you politely turn the offer down. You do end up buying a bottle of the cheapest grapefruit soju you can find that very same night, laying drunkenly on the floor and singing along to every song that comes on. You are glad that your phone is dead and you are too out of it to get up for the charger, because all you can think about is texting Vernon. It’s way past midnight when you finally feel well enough to get up, realising that you’ve been ignoring how hungry you are for the past few hours. The kitchen sounds like the worst place to be, so you get dressed and decide on the convenience store that Vernon showed you.

Vernon isn’t much for parties, but he realises that he’s in dire need of some socialisation, so when Mingyu invites him over he says yes without thinking. He regrets it just a little when he can hear the blaring music from outside the house, giving himself a mental pep talk before walking inside. He’s immediately met with a crowded room, barely able to squeeze past the swarm of sweaty bodies. Finding any of his friends seems impossible, but the kitchen is right on the other side of the living room, so he beelines there. He grabs a beer from the fridge, and almost jumps out of his skin when he closes the door to find someone standing right next to it, expectantly looking at him. The girl is familiar, but he can’t quite remember her.

“Hey,” she says with a shy smile. “I don’t think we’ve met, at least not when I’m sober.”

The memory suddenly hits him, and the look of realisation on his face makes the girl laugh. She does look different when she’s not about to throw up all over Vernon’s shoes and the floor.

“Oh yeah, that was… A night, for sure. Hi. I’m Vernon, by the way.”

He leans against the counter next to her and cracks his beer open. The girl reaches a free hand towards him, the other cradling a cup of something, and introduces herself as Seohyun. They make small talk for a while, both of them finishing their drinks before she asks Vernon if he wants to dance. He hesitates a little, but nods anyway, and she immediately grabs his hand with a giggle before pulling him into the crowd.

They dance like that, bodies pressed a little too close together, laughing over the music and singing along to every song they know. Vernon feels weird anyway, like something is missing, even if he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

He has no idea how long he’s been there when he finally spots Seungkwan in the kitchen, mixing multiple drinks at once. He excuses himself for a second from Seohyun and makes his way over to his friend to greet him. Seungkwan only nods at him, and the response puzzles Vernon.

“What?” Seungkwan asks when he notices Vernon silently staring at him.

“Nothing. Having fun?”

Once again, he only nods. Vernon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but doesn’t press on, knowing fully well that Seungkwan will eventually tell him whatever is going on.

“Have you seen Mingyu?” Vernon shakes his head no and watches as Seungkwan somehow lifts all the cups at once and disappears out of sight without as much as a bye. He wonders if he should’ve stayed home to sleep instead.

He finds Seohyun on the couch, her head lazily thrown back and her eyes glistening in the dim light. She flashes a small smile when she spots Vernon, gesturing for him to sit down.

“I’m getting kind of hungry,” she pouts at him, and he feels like this is his chance to get out.

“I know just the place.”

You’re waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, sitting in the window of the convenience store with the neon lights lazily blinking down at you. Those 5 minutes feel like forever, but you’re not hungry enough to eat raw noodles.

The street in front of you is peaceful, even though there’s barely any snow left outside once again. You wonder how your snowman is doing. You wonder how Vernon is doing.

You look up at the clock above the cashier and notice that your food is finally done. Loud giggling grabs your attention from outside the store, and you wish you got more drunk so that you couldn’t be sitting here right now. Vernon’s eyes bore into your own through the glass, an unreadable expression on his face. The girl next to him is obviously lost as to what she’s witnessing, but doesn’t say anything. You quickly gather your belongings, grabbing your dinner too, before rushing out of the store. You glance at the boy one more time, and even though he’s clearly about to say something you rush off home. Tears blur your vision and leave burning trails along your face, but you just want to be home already.

Vernon is too stunned to move, only coming back to reality when he hears Seohyun’s voice.

“Who was that?”

“Just a friend.” A friend. “Let’s go eat.”

Seohyun beams at him, but he wishes he ran after you.

New Year’s Eve comes a lot quicker than you wish it did. Fireworks start going off way before midnight, and you can’t help but be annoyed. Maybe more sad than anything else, not really knowing how to feel excited about the new year. It used to be something you found exciting, but over the years it turned into peak isolation and anxiety season for you. Not out of choice, of course, life just happens sometimes.

You haven’t talked to Vernon at all since the convenience store. You haven’t really talked to anyone lately, except for a short call with your family to wish them happy holidays. You weren’t sure what went wrong, or where, but winter always brings a crippling feeling of cosmic insignificance into your life. Loneliness slowly turns into a black hole that absorbs all light and happiness in your life, and you find it harder and harder with each passing day to reach out. By the end of the year the light is barely a pinhole, and you’re sitting in the kitchen once again, watching the fireworks in silence.

Vernon can barely recognize their apartment after Seungkwan and Soonyoung are done with decorating, even less once it’s filled with music and all their friends. He doesn’t know most of them, but for one night he can find it in himself to be okay with this arrangement. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he finds a text from Seohyun telling him that she’s outside. Vernon takes the elevator down to the first floor to let the girl in. He unlocks the door for her, and she hugs him with the brightest smile on her face. Guilt immediately floods Vernon’s chest, but he doesn’t want to back away now, after all he was the one who invited Seohyun to this party. They make their way up in silence and enter the bustling apartment, Seohyun finding Vernon’s hand quickly at the overwhelming sight.

It’s still a few hours until midnight and Vernon wonders why he ever thought this to be a good idea.

A few drinks and a lot more dancing later he already feels worn out. He’s almost a hundred percent sure that there’s people doing the worst thing imaginable in his room, and the thought alone makes him want to leave for the rest of the night. He’s way too close to actually ditching all his friends and his sort-of-date, when Seungkwan suddenly yells over the music and the crowd, telling everyone to get to the rooftop. Vernon’s never been so relieved to hear his friend yell. He lets the crowd go out first, Seohyun still by his side. They leave last, Vernon making sure to close the door behind them. He catches a mischievous glint in Seohyun’s eyes, and she challenges him to a race to the staircase at the other end of the building. He lets out a tired sigh, but the girl tugs on his arm - and possibly his heartstrings - in a way he can’t resist. So they run, giggling and being just a little too loud.

It’s only a few minutes until the new year when they finally join the others, out of breath and still laughing. He can see Seohyun’s lips moving, but can’t make out any of it over the noise of all other people present. Suddenly the cacophony turns into clear chanting, and he can faintly recognise Seungkwan who yells “ten” first. They join in to the countdown, fireworks already going off in the distance.

Three. Two. One.

The crowd erupts in cheers, fireworks going off all around them as they enter a new year. Seohyun looks up into Vernon’s eyes, getting on her tiptoes and gently grabbing the collar of his coat. It feels wrong, so wrong, to lead someone on like this, and somehow Vernon still decides to kiss her, his hands settling on her waist as their lips meet. She smiles into the kiss, one of her hands gently moving up to rest on his cheek.

“Happy new year,” Seohyun whispers, still out of breath, resting her forehead against Vernon’s. He doesn’t say it back.

His phone buzzes away on the kitchen counter, your name weakly flashing on the screen. The call disconnects, and the house falls into darkness, before lighting up once again, this time with a text.

“happy new year”

Then it’s dark again.

Soon the days start getting longer and you finally say goodbye to snowy nights. You still dream about draping your scarf around Vernon, late night grocery runs, a kitchen window that’s brighter and doesn’t make you feel like the shell of who you used to be.

However, sleep still doesn’t come easy, it never really did. You occasionally find yourself looking out the same window, the sight comforting you with its continuity. Sometimes all you have is the view and the sill where you dangle your feet into a reality where you don't feel so left behind by life.

Tonight is no different, a blanket over your shoulders as you watch over the city. The distant noise of buzzing life makes you feel at peace, and you’re about to crawl back inside when you hear someone yelling your name. The word almost sounds unfamiliar, not having heard it in a while. You look around for the source of the sound, finally spotting Vernon who blends into the night in his usual all black outfit.

“Hey,” he yells once again, and he continues before you can stop him. “Come down? Please?”

You quickly climb inside, Vernon’s voice drowned out by your heart hammering in your chest. You only put on some slippers as you run out of your apartment, fuzzy sucks on your feet and the same blanket still over your shoulder. The elevator ride seems to take forever, but you finally get down, finding Vernon right outside the building sitting on the stairs. He scrambles to his feet when he hears the door behind him open, staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Even though it’s dark, you can see he looks different somehow. Maybe more tired, maybe a little more sad.

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out almost as a whisper.

“I recognized your socks. That sounded a little weird, I’m sorry, I just… Haven’t seen you in a while.”

It’s true, you were focused on your exams and skipped most of your classes whenever you didn’t feel like leaving your apartment for the day. It’s also true that Vernon never called you back or replied to your text since new year’s. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes after kissing Seohyun, even though he told her everything a few days later. She was very understanding, albeit understandably sad, and they did find good friends in each other with Vernon after all that happened.

“Is that my scarf?” You step closer to him, gently touching the soft fabric.

“I found it in the park. I was gonna bring it back, but then things kind of… happened,” His voice is barely above a whisper and he looks a little too deep into your eyes.

“How’s Seohyun?” You take a step back, and Vernon visibly gulps. Somehow he just knows that you’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“I think she’s got a girlfriend now, actually. How’s your boyfriend?”

You’re taken aback by his question, his words sharp and purposeful, making you wince. He doesn’t say anything else, holding your stare as if it was a challenge. You feel the tears welling in your eyes, but neither of you move.

“Happy with someone else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You called me down for this? Really, Vernon?” You snap at him, unwinding the scarf from his neck, tears freely racing down your face and you almost miss the front door as you push it open.

“Fuck you,” you spit at him before slamming the door shut.

Monday morning classes roll around once again, and you find yourself in your usual spot in the lecture hall. For a few weeks you sit alone, Vernon vanishing out of your life along with winter. It’s not until spring finally arrives that a familiar head of messy hair is occupying the seat next to yours by the time you arrive. You quietly settle into your chair, choosing to look everywhere except for the boy next to you. There’s still time until class starts, and you consider leaving to avoid whatever is about to happen, but Vernon is quicker, sliding a lone earphone in front of you on the desk. He patiently waits for you to pick it up and place it in your ear, one of your favourite songs already softly playing. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the class, doodling away in his notebook as usual, and it feels like winter again. When class is over Vernon hurries to leave, but you proceed to stop him in his tracks to give him the earphone back. He almost looks disappointed.

For a moment it’s only the two of you, getting lost in each other’s eyes and wondering when things turned like this, so distant and unfamiliar.

“Wanna go grab some coffee?” Vernon asks suddenly, even though he sounds a little unsure himself. It all feels like the first Monday you met.

The walk is quiet, but not in the comfortable way you’re used to. He still knows your order by heart, and somehow it just makes your chest feel even more tight. Vernon feels like a stranger and your dearest friend at the same time. Sometimes when you look at him too much you go back to the night where things still felt okay and you wonder if he ever thinks about it - about how badly you wanted to hold his hands, kiss him still lying in the snow.

“Your face is gonna stay like that if you frown so much,” he says nonchalantly as he hands you a to-go paper cup.

“I wish,” your words make him snort into his drink as he’s about to take a sip, and it makes you smile too.

You let Vernon lead the way through the neighbourhood, making small talk about all the things you missed in each other’s lives, although you don’t have much to offer having mostly sat at home. You end up on a park bench next to a small lake, and you watch as the ducks peacefully swim along. You wonder if the water isn’t still too cold for them. Vernon is still fiddling with his cup, almost looking somewhat nervous.

“I missed you,” he says quietly.

“You could’ve texted me.” He doesn’t reply. You do your best not to raise your voice. “At least say something now.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? Confess my undying love for you? Tell you how I think about you every single day? How guilty I feel that I can’t even bring myself to look you in the eyes?” He’s looking for something, anything in your eyes, but you’re too angry to give it to him that easily.

“Maybe.”

“Oh you’re one to talk, like you’d ever tell me any of it!”

Vernon lets out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the cup in his hands until it buckles. His words fill your head, then your whole body, and you feel like your whole being is vibrating and slowly vanishing at the edges.

Cold hands come to rest on your face, Vernon’s forehead against yours and you wonder if love is supposed to hurt like this. You close your eyes, the snow is falling and your snowman is smiling at you warmly, your scarf around its neck. A teardrop rolls down your face and you open your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?”

“Kiss me.”

A sad smile appears on his lips, his hands moving from your face and he wraps his arm around you instead, tucking your face into his neck.

“I promise I will,” He pulls away just enough to see your face. “Another time.”

Your head is still buzzing as he walks you home, gently holding your hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. You’re reluctant to let go when you reach your building, and your hesitation draws a faint smile on Vernon’s face.

He leaves a kiss on your forehead before saying bye.

That night you dream about being a duck, floating on glimmering ponds in the early spring sunset. You wake up crying at 2am.

You’re on your way home after a late night grocery run when your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. Vernon’s incoming call confuses you at such an odd hour, but you pick it up anyway. It’s loud on the other end of the line, loud music and even louder screaming drowning out Vernon’s voice almost completely.

“Where are you?” He yells into the phone.

“Out. Why?” You’re not sure if he’s sober.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then suddenly it’s entirely quiet. You check if he’s ended the call. A loud bang reassures you that he’s still there.

“Someone’s having the worst sex I’ve ever witnessed right in my room. Are you free?” The distress in his voice makes you laugh, and you can imagine the frown on his face too well.

“You can come over if you want to, I’ll be home in a bit.”

He doesn’t need much convincing, so you hang up to finally focus on your groceries, grabbing a few extra drinks and snacks for your sudden guest. He’s sitting on the stairs in front of the building when you get home, listening to music that you can faintly make out from his headphones. He notices you as you halt to a stop right in front of him, a tired look on his face as he looks up at you. He smiles at you still and you can’t help but return the gesture.

You blindly reach into your bag, shuffling around for a can of cola that you bought for him. Your fingers finally wrap around the cold metal, and you hand the drink to Vernon, taking another one out for yourself. You take a seat on the stairs next to him, your knees slightly touching - he doesn’t move, so you don’t, either. The wind quietly shakes the barely-there leaves on the trees, and it moves something within you, too.

“I thought you like parties,” you tease him.

“You don’t know what I saw there. Consider yourself lucky, honestly.”

“I mean, you’re lucky that I’m nice enough to offer you my couch for the night.” He scoffs in response, and bumps his knee into yours.

You wonder if Vernon only exists on Mondays and at night.

His profile is sharp and soft at the same time in the flickering, orange light blinking at you from a nearby street lamp. He seems lost in thought and you don’t have it in yourself to bother him right now, not when everything feels so at peace for once. A few faint stars twinkle in the sky, and the moon looks as full as your heart feels. Spring always knew how to take your troubles away - it even happened a little too easily, the ice around your heart melting with the first golden rays of sunshine.

You know you’re going to be okay.

Almost on instinct you lean your head on Vernon’s shoulder, and you feel his arm circling your waist and squeezing gently, his head coming to rest on top of yours.

Maybe he could help you fix the dripping sink in your bathroom, too.

The lack of sleep finally finds you, the gentle breeze making both of you shiver just enough for you to make your way inside. The elevator has never felt so slow as you wait for it, but when Vernon carefully takes your hand in his, you don’t mind as much anymore. You can feel your face heating up a little, thankful when the elevator dings open. Vernon doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can also tell that his eyes are barely open, so you do your best not to think too much of it even if your skin feels like it’s on fire. You put in your passcode and walk into the small apartment, both of you kicking off your shoes before you lead him into the living room, where he collapses on the couch immediately.

It’s a little endearing somehow, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he struggles to keep his eyes. You fetch him a blanket and leave a toothbrush on the side of the sink, but he’s fast asleep by the time you get back, a throw pillow tucked under his head. You gently cover him with the blanket, and leave to get ready for bed after whispering a “good night” into the dark room.

You have a hard time falling asleep, wondering if he’s going to be there in the morning.

You dream about having his toothbrush in your cup next to yours.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast, worry flooding your mind before you remember that it’s most likely just Vernon. You slowly open your door, peeking into the kitchen to see him in front of the stove, fumbling with a pan and a pair of chopsticks.

“Smells good,” your sudden voice makes him jump, and he almost drops the pan.

“Just because I don’t know how to unlock the front door you don’t get to scare me to death.”

His focus is back on the eggs in front of him, so you slip into the bathroom to brush your teeth. You grab everything without even looking, but the toothbrush feels foreign in your hand. You look at yourself in the mirror and realise that you’re holding the one that you left out for Vernon last night. Then it hits you, he put it in the cup himself.

You quickly finish your morning routine and walk back into the kitchen where he’s sitting at the table, two plates of food set out for both of you. The sun filters in through the sheer curtain, painting everything golden, and you feel like your heart might rip out of your chest with how it’s hammering away.

Breakfast is quiet and peaceful, Vernon showing no signs of being in a hurry. You thank him for making you food as you place the dishes in the sink, only to find him staring at you when you turn back around. His eyes are soft, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and you feel almost naked under his gaze.

“What?” You know you’re blushing, but you have nowhere to hide in the small kitchen.

“Nothing.”

The smile doesn’t leave his lips still, and you quickly excuse yourself as you rush into your room, feeling too overwhelmed. It’s weird to have someone, especially him, in your kitchen, looking so domestic and so pretty in the early morning sunlight. You can hear him doing the dishes in the other room and it almost makes you cry. By the time you gather yourself enough to face him again he’s getting ready to leave, one of his shoes already on his feet. You watch in silence, and unlock the door for him when he stands up straight.

He’s halfway out the door when he turns back around and presses a kiss to your cheek; your mouth opens and closes as you try to say something. Vernon says bye with a laugh and leaves you standing there, way too flustered to even close the door.

A neighbour appears in the hallway which prompts you to slam the door shut way too quickly and loudly, pressing your back against it and sliding to the floor.

You wonder if you’re still dreaming.

You’re running late to your morning class, having missed your alarm, feeling kind of asleep still. The seat next to yours is empty when you arrive just a few seconds before the professor, and you wish you went back to bed instead of running all the way to school.

The class is halfway through when the door quietly opens and Vernon slips in, two to-go cups in his hands. He looks completely unbothered by the fact that he’s this late as he takes his usual seat. He slides one of the drinks in front of you, your name scribbled on the side of the paper cup. You give him a confused look, but he only nods at you before taking a sip of his coffee. You do the same, quickly realising that he bought you your favourite. Maybe coming to class wasn’t the worst idea.

You leave the lecture together, coming to a halt in front of the building as Vernon spots his friends huddled together in their usual circle.

“There’s gonna be a party tonight,” he turns to you suddenly. “I want you to come.”

His eyes are intense and it makes your heart flutter.

“Okay, I’ll be there. Thank you for the drink.” You give him a soft smile.

“I was gonna be late anyway, so I figured why not.” It’s obvious that he’s not telling the truth, his cheeks turning red along with his ears. It makes you feel warm inside. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Will you watch the sunset with me before?”

With the way you’re looking at him, he doesn’t think he could say no to you, so he nods and turns to say bye. You stop him, your fingers wrapping around his arm, and you press a quick kiss to his cheek before walking away. He looks even more flustered, his feet glued in place as he watches you disappear into the morning mist.

You can hear his friends faintly as they cheer for him from afar.

It’s already getting dark when you rush out of your apartment towards the address that Vernon texted you. The air is crisp against your skin, and you realise you didn’t dress nearly warm enough to be sitting out in the cold, but it’s too late to go back home. You will yourself to a jogging speed, finally spotting Vernon in front of his complex.

“Please tell me the elevator is working,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “My body was not made for this.”

“Well…” Vernon starts, but the look in your eyes makes him burst out in laughter. “I’m just fucking with you, it’s fine.”

“You better hope it’s fine, or you’ll get to carry me up to the rooftop on your back,” it’s his turn to give you a distraught look.

Lucky for both of you, the elevator is in working condition, so you only have to take the stairs on the last two floors. Vernon makes a show of opening the door leading up to the rooftop, a fond look on his face as he watches you take in the view. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this happy. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, muttering a “thank you” into his coat. The pink sky, along with the last few rays of sunshine make Vernon look even more angelic than you usually find him, and you wonder if he too can hear how fast and loud your heart is beating. He says something that you can’t hear from being lost in thought, but before you can ask him to repeat himself he’s pulling a blanket from his backpack and putting it down on the ground. You both take a seat, sitting close enough that your thighs are touching, your head almost immediately coming to rest on his shoulder.

The city is quietly buzzing away in the distance, glass buildings glistening pink, birds flying across the horizon. Vernon feels warm and familiar, his head on top of yours and his arm around you. You don’t remember the last time you felt so at peace.

The top of the sky is fading into blue, the last bit of sun still poking out from behind the city, but the stars are already visible. It feels like a moment you’ll remember forever.

You’re getting ready to leave, Vernon reaching a hand towards you to help you up. You watch him fold and put the blanket away in silence, and he freezes when he turns around, his backpack in his hands, finally noticing that you’re looking at him.

“What?”

He looks confused, but you simply step closer instead of replying. Your mind is a mess of incomprehensible thoughts no matter how hard you try to regain control over yourself.

“Can you kiss me?” It’s barely a whisper, your thoughts somewhere far away, somewhere where you’re lying in the snow, eating ramen under neon lights. Somehow, Vernon looks the same kind of dazed.

His bag lands on the ground with a thud, his hands cupping your face as he leans in without thinking, his lips crashing against yours almost hungrily. Your fingers find his collars easily even with your eyes closed, pulling him closer, closer, closer. Your lips move perfectly together, your hearts beating in unison. He tastes like how it feels to wake up next to someone you love, and even though his lips are cold, a warm feeling floods your whole body. You only pull away when your lungs beg you for air, and as your eyes find Vernon’s you can’t help but smile. With his hands still gently resting on your face he wipes away a few stray tears, and you turn your head to the side to press your lips against his palm.

The air feels thick from all the words left unsaid, but they can wait. For now, you’re okay with this.

“I don’t wanna go to that party anymore.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

You’re sitting at your usual table under the flickering neon lights at the convenience store, already having finished your food. For the first time in months, your chest feels light, and you’re not sure if it’s because of spring or Vernon. You don’t mind either way.

He walks you home, almost kisses you goodnight, but you pull away. He looks at you anxiously, waiting for something to happen.

“Sleep over,” you say in a small voice.

“Your couch isn’t that comfortable,” he’s only half joking, a smirk on his lips and his hands reaching to find yours.

“But my bed is.”

The smile vanishes off his face, his eyes widening, and you’re about to make up an excuse, say that you were only joking, when you notice that he’s blushing. Suddenly he nods, beaming at you, and you mimic his expression, pulling him towards the entrance.

It’s odd, having him this close, especially in your own home after having been alone in it for so long. He smells like your shampoo, and tastes like your toothpaste, and it makes you nervous and excited at the same time, your heart feeling too big for your chest.

You watch with a fond look on your face as he moves around in the apartment, and somehow it feels like this is how it’s always been, his comfortable presence filling a void you weren’t even fully aware of..

In the dark of your room, under the warm covers, he holds you against his chest as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He looks at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His question makes you let out an airy laugh, but he waits for your answer patiently.

“Only if you promise that you’ll do it again.”

With that, his lips are on yours, softly and slowly. He’s touching you like no one did before, with so much love and patience, that you can’t help but think about how this will break your body in unspeakable ways.

You know you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

A fleeting moment of everything and nothing.

#PEACH. you ... YOU..... IM CROOKING A FINGER AT YOU #this fic was SO fucking good like your writing is sososo excellent i was taking notes and filing things away in my repertoire for later us #i will be going back to this fic REGULARLY when winter comes .#recs #peach ♡

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bigskydreaming · 6 years ago

Text

gingerjab replied to your post “ANYWAY. The petition/prayer circle for Michael Trevino to be cast as...”

I’m forever an asshole obsessed with fire/ice ships so Thunderbird or Sunfire, fuck the inhumans one off and St. John. Also, Rahul Kohli as Neal Shaara/Thunderbird/Agni. Also I’m sposed to be asleep so ignore if this is a shit idea.

For the record, I actually kinda like the Inhuman guy, cuz I mean, its not his fault he’s part of a trash franchise. I think it probably helps that I’ve only ever read one issue with him, so as to render it absolutely impossible for his writing to piss me off. I like to just close my eyes and pretend he’s a mutant. Y’know. Like I do with Kamala!

Who is obviously a mutant.

(And like.....let’s be real. The dude is a pyrokinetic with a demon form, the codename INFERNO, and his REAL name is DANTE Pertuz. DANTE. INFERNO. Like, that’s the on-the-nose-fuck-your-subtlety-we-came-here-to-be-pretentious-as-fuck-with-our-literary-references-look-how-dignified-it-makes-our-character balls to the wall character concept I am HERE for. I’m like OH HAI I SEE WHAT U DID THAR. And they’re like “oh yeah? You got it? Hahaha, we were worried nobody would, phew, good job tho. Totally adds to the character right? Pretty clever of us.” And then I’d be like Hahahaha no, not even a little bit, but ‘scool, I like him anyway cuz I’m easy like that. I put out for puns.” And then they’d be like awwwww, dammit, we worked so hard on that. And I’d be like....well, that doesn’t speak highly of your abilities, I mean it was a super obvious joke. And then I stopped making up conversations with hypothetical people in my head.)

Also, in defense of comic book St. John Allerdyce and absolutely NO OTHER VERSIONS EVER because agreed, they all suck....

Comic book St. John is a snarky Australian asshole who in between acts of mutant mass destruction, has a side career as a successful romance novelist under a pen name.

(I’m not even joking. Comic book St. John, in canon, writes romance novels in his spare time as a hobby. LOLOLOL c’mon, how is that not a great character beat for a supervillain slash occasional kinda-if-you-squint-superhero).

Anyway.

I too am also trash for fire/ice ships because SCREW SUBTLETY, WE SHIP THEMATICALLY. But like, its gotta be the RIGHT fire/ice ship. I weirdly have standards with my fire/ice ships? Probably just because I’m obsessed with Bobby Drake but whatever, who cares, how is that relevant.

I mean, OBVIOUSLY, you have your proto-fire/ice ship, the one, the original, the Word I came out of the womb prepared to preach and ship and like, spread to the masses....Bobby Drake/Johnny Storm. Because like. They are elemental dorks whose competitiveness is only matched by their dumbness, how can you not love them, I DEFY YOU TO SAY.

I’m kinda meh on Iceman/Pyro, because like, original comic book Pyro and Bobby never even interacted I think? And in cartoons they’re always totally different generations/age groups, and in the movies they’re like....boring and stale and not even all that attractive and also did I mention boring, omg no offense to whomever wrote them, but I tried reading Bobby/Pyro movie fanfic years ago because like, that’s the only movie Bobby fic there is, unless you want to read about him being an asshole to Rogue and/or cheating with Kitty and just generally driving Rogue into the arms of the much (much much much much, like ewww) older Logan or Gambit. Because srsly, so appealing. So obviously, I caved and tried reading Bobby/Pyro fics because like, they had the word ‘Bobby’ in them, and the bar is too low in my X-Men fic reading habits. And omg I fell asleep. I just. It was all just the standard m/m cookie cutter generic ‘good boy plus bad boy uwu yaoi-zowey’ bleh starring two not at all deeply written or well-acted meh-looking white dudes, and just. Why.

But that’s what I mean when I say I’m wary of fire/ice ships, because sometimes with powered characters like, authors think oh hey, LOOK ONE IS FIRE AND ONE IS ICE, THIS TOTALLY COUNTS AS THEM HAVING OPPOSITES ATTRACT PERSONALITIES AND THUS I DONT NEED TO GIVE THEM A PERSONALITY, RIGHT? Like. They’re just very boring and unimaginative in execution, just because they expect the basic premise of fire and ice/’obvious opposites attract, obviously’ to do all the work for them.

(Katey if you’re reading this I’m super for sure not talking about YOUR superpowered romances, because you are wonderful and GOOD at writing and imaginative, and thus none of this applies to you. Requisite disclaimer.)

So, when they did this random Bobby/’New Pyro Dude like where did he even come from I still dont know’ hook-up, I was prepared to like, yawn endlessly, because I figured it would be more boring imaginationless ‘ooh look what an obvious pair they are and yet still praise me for how clever I am for pairing them’ crap.

And I was absolutely right!

(But I mean, it was written by Marc Guggenheim, the odds of it sucking were totally in my favor. Betting against them being well-written under his pen might feasibly be construed as cheating. Whatever).

And also, the art did them ZERO favors, like I know they’re both generic blond dudes in their twenties, but I LITERALLY COULD NOT TELL WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WHICH in any of the panels that they were like, in bed together or dressing or talking or literally anything until they started using their powers to fight bad guys. It was soooooooo bad. Like the art just manifested every ‘look at the white gay date his mirror reflection lol what is variety even’ cliche and beat you over the head with it.

(Also Bobby is supposed to have brown hair, which at least would’ve helped a LITTLE bit. Meh. Still was gonna suck because like, nobody had any intention of WRITING them together, like, developing their characters and laying the groundwork for a possible relationship. It was just ‘oh look, the fire and ice dude got drunk at a wedding and hooked up, cool deal, now on with the story.’)

Anyway, the ONLY redeeming potential for a Bobby/Simon relationship in my opinion is ENTIRELY due to a fic I read with them. Its probably the only fic written about Simon ever, lmfao, so its not like the writer’s characterization of him has any competition among either canon or other fans’ renditions of him. But it was pretty well written, I actually liked their portrayal of Bobby, which I’m SUPER picky about in fanfics, and they actually invested time in developing Simon and his POV and giving him an actual personality and shit, that wasn’t half bad. So if Simon was written like that in the comics and their relationship progressed in similar ways, I could feasibly be on board with them.

But it won’t, so I’m not. Meh. Anyway.

I actually really REALLY like both Shiro AND Neal, with the caveat that I hate Neal’s stupid offensive-ass codename, I know Claremont only named him Thunderbird because he introduced him in an anniversary issue that was supposed to be a call-back to the original Giant Size lineup, and he needed a stand-in for John Proudstar, but like....wtf Claremont, just use your brain and save Neal to introduce a whole issue later and stick Jamie in John’s place the way everyone else does. He literally went by Thunderbird in the comics already in his Hellion days, which YOU wrote, so why the fuck did you feel the need to be stupidly offensive and act like Native American people and traditions are interchangeable with those of a guy from India? Ugh he’s so....gah.

Anyway. So I actually like both Shiro and Neal, though pretty much only when people other than Claremont are writing them, lololol. Which is admittedly...rare. Because of all his pet characters, they’re both at the top of the list of ones nobody else has any interest in touching. Bizarrely, my favorite run involving Shiro was when he was randomly shoe-horned into that Alpha Flight relaunch in the late 90s, that only lasted a couple years? Dunno if you know what I’m talking about, the team with Radius, Flex, Murmur, Heather as Vindicator and Mac was a robot or some weird shit.

I have no real thoughts on either of them with Bobby though, for a fire and ice pairing. Tbh I can’t really see Bobby/Shiro like, at ALL lmfao. For one, Shiro’s always felt written as though he’s a good ten years older than Bobby at least. Like they’re not really compatible dialogue-wise lol. And he’s pretty much never had any patience for Bobby in the comics, which has a lot to do with most of their interactions being written by Claremont himself, and Claremont infamously haaaaaaates Bobby’s character and trashes him any chance he gets, aka the few times editorial makes him actually use Bobby in a script. But I also think even under other writers, like....Shiro honestly is not the type to have any patience for Bobby’s antics or brand of humor, like.....he’s like JP but without the superficial crush JP used in canon to view Bobby’s idiosyncrasies as endearing instead of migraine inducing. I don’t think any readers would buy someone of JP or Shiro’s personality-type crushing on Bobby twice, lololol.

I DO however kinda like the idea of Neal/Bobby? If someone ever actually brought Neal back and gave him a new codename and stuck him on a team with Bobby? They’ve also barely interacted in canon, and the only time I can think of, Neal was super rude and dismissive of Bobby, because like, Claremont was writing it of course, so it made total sense for him to have the dude who’s literally been an X-Man for two issues talk down to the X-Man of several decades like the latter had no clue what he was doing, lol. Oops, still slightly salty there.

But honestly, I doubt anyone who didn’t have hyperfixation fueled grudges on a fictional fave’s behalf would ever even remember that one canon interaction, and tbh Neal’s pretty much a blank slate character wise. His only defining traits from what little he’s been used are that he’s fairly young, in his early to mid-twenties, from a wealthy family, a little full of himself but in a ‘really wants to impress people and prove himself’ kinda way instead of an overly entitled ‘i genuinely believe I am superior to all you buffoons’ kinda way. And he was always endearingly enthusiastic and eager about new stuff he encountered from being with the X-Men.

(He was also randomly obsessed with Psylocke, but I truly think Claremont was like, well I’m just gonna write him like I would Warren Worthington because why not. So yeah, obvsly he’s super obsessed with Betsy. Duh.)

Anyway - I would like someone to do something interesting with Neal, and I think his and Bobby’s chemistry has a lot of potential and they could bounce off each other well.

Also, I like Rahul, but I was randomly fancasting some of the more obscure X-Men awhile back for Reasons (I forget what they were tbh, but I’m sure I had them. I usually do). I came across this Indian actor named Karan Tacker and was like ohhhhhhh he totally looks like he could be Neal Shaara.

I mean, I’ve literally never seen him act, so who knows what his acting is like, but since we’ve established Neal’s character is essentially whatever the person to actually use him next wants it to be, I don’t think that’s a big deal lol.

So this is totally superficially based casting, like I think this guy looks and ‘feels’ the way Neal’s typically been drawn and the kinda vibe he gives off.

Also, incidentally, having absolutely nothing to do with anything, let alone my selection process, by pure coincidence the dude just so happens to have abs for daaaaaaays.

But I mean. Like I said, that is neither here nor there. Obviously.

Of no relevance whatsoever. I didn’t even notice, tbh. Don’t even know who hijacked my body and ghost wrote these last few sentences, quick, call an exorcist.

....oh noes, is this one of the consequences of being an ‘anti’? IS THIS MY COMEUPPANCE? *flees*

#gingerjab

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