#gallery: lighter

[minban]

Happy Birthday, Lighter | Drinking Alone Under the Moon

"A cheap party hat, tacky ribbons, and a cake with unevenly spread frosting." / "I can't help but laugh whenever I think about that year's birthday party" / "You guys really should come and taste what the most amazing birthday special in the Outer Ring is like." / "My old pals..."

[dooxliss]

Peach and 4?

ask meme

absolutely nothing bad will happen on this vacation, trust 🔥

[illdothehotvoice]

Can my likes literally not right now I'm trying to feel like garbage about having to defend my entire art practice in critique today lmfao

[whentherewerebicycles]

okay I spent the whole morning working on the dayroom and I think it’s slowly coming along. my mom hung the dry erase board during her visit and I am sooo pleased with it (I love a massive dry erase board!!). I put together that lightweight little bookshelf/console thing and ordered some cute little fabric storage baskets for the bottom shelf so I can hide some of the office supply clutter. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do with those two little strips of wall by my desk but I’m leaning towards doing a little fandom corner. in my austin apartment I had these picture ledges where I put fandom-related photos/art/cards from friends and it always made me so happy to look at. plus you could swap stuff out and move it around really easily when you needed a change. I was thinking I might recreate that on a smaller scale on one of the walls (maybe the one next to the desk?) and then do a mini gallery wall on the wall right over the desk, which could be a mix of My Hockey Guy photos and family/friend photos. I ordered some possible shelves to try so we’ll see! and then I have this wonderful banner bec snagged for me at a game, which I just steamed the wrinkles out of and am trying to decide where I want to put it.

I just have one big update planned after that, which is that I ordered a giant mirror on mega sale to hang over the couch. it should arrive next friday hurrah! and I think/hope it will go a long way towards brightening and opening up that space. I really love my place but its one flaw is the deep 1970s-style overhangs over the windows that block most of the limited natural light we get in the winter 😩 combine that with the ‘70s-style lack of good overhead lighting and it can make that room feel pretty dark, especially on overcast days like today. anyway I’m excited! that poor room has suffered from me mentally associating it with a job I h*te so it’s spent a lot of time being a cluttered and unkempt dumping ground even though it’s one of the nicer rooms in the house. I’m trying to make it look more appealing + spend more time in there when I’m not working so that I don’t lose a whole room to my work dread lol.

[roh-dri]

“bic boy” (marcador permanente no tan permanente sobre un encendedor azul, 2024)

[felassan]

John Epler in the BioWare Discord (August 7th) -

John: "You can disable/enable helmets for cutscenes or at all times." --- User: "Will we be able to collect codex entries again?" John: "Absolutely. Codex entries are part of the series' DNA - plus, they're really fun to write." --- User: "Are there long curly hair options?" John: "There are!" --- User: "Are sub-classes locked to the faction you’re in?" John: "No. They're themed towards factions, but you can choose a specialization from a separate faction than your own." --- User: "Will subtitles from companions be on screen with their icons lit up like in Inquisition?" John: "Subtitles will appear center-screen and have the speaker name attached. So you'll see who's saying what." --- User: "Regarding the cutscenes findable in the game, will a gallery be available for re-watch?" John: "Not at present, no. Since our cutscenes are (almost all) real-time in-engine, this would be nearly impossible with our tech."

[character limit text break!]

User: "What are the chances for a third World of Thedas volume after The Veilguard's release?" John: "I can't comment on specific plans, but World of Thedas is close to my heart and I'd love to do more in general with our ancillary books and products, once we're able to come up for air from the game." --- User: "Can we edit our race during character creator freely or are we locked in by choosing race first like in inquisition?" John: "Lineage informs a number of options after that choice - you can always go back in CC and change it, but it's the first decision you will make and changing it will reset the following decisions." --- User: "I did have a follow-up on lineage - do the other lineages/races also have background choices the way elves do with city/dalish? CAN we play a qunari raised within the Qun?" John: "So a couple of things, just to be super clear on this. There is no 'city elf/dalish elf' switch (for example) that you can pick in character creator. Each lineage can be each faction, though, and that will provide a baseline for your character you can further refine through role playing. For Elves, as an example - Veil Jumper elves tend to be more 'Dalish' to reflect that background, while Shadow Dragon elves tend to have a background that reflects being an Elf in Minrathous. Other factions have their own nuance. Importantly, those things tend to be more focused on how you relate to that faction, while leaving more general 'Elf' topics as something you have more freedom with. Or, TLDR - while choices at CC define some baselines around your character, we like to give you the opportunity to build your character's background and beliefs through in-game RP. Hopefully all that makes sense." User: "That does, and is right in line with what Corinne said during the Q&A! I was asking whether we would see the same background variety in the non-elven lineages." John: "Yes! Sorry, that's what I was trying to answer - there will be plenty of opportunities to RP who you are/were as the other lineages as well."

[character limit text break!]

User: "are there companions gifts again" John: "Isn't the gift of your presence enough? More seriously, though - you very well might find things in the world that certain companions would appreciate!" --- John: "Rook is generally assumed to be anywhere from late 20s to late 40s, but ultimately we don't give Rook a specific age. You can RP them to be however old you want." --- User: "will conversations be zoomed in like a cutscene type or zoomed out like in DAI?" John: "While we do have some 'lighter' conversations for specific types of content, they use a more traditional over-the-shoulder cinematic camera. I created the simple conversation system in DAI and while it did what we needed it to do, we heard the feedback on the camera loud and clear." --- User: "The darkspawn look fairly different in veilguard. Is ot a simple redisgn like the demons or is it due to them being enhanced by red lyrium?" John: "I'm not going to tell you WHAT it is that's making them look different, since that's a spoiler, but it's more than just a visual redesign." --- John: "Need and inspiration, mostly. We can't bring in every single animal out there, especially since we want the ones we DO put in the game to be at the right level of quality. So we pick the ones that we know make sense in the spaces we're building, and also it's based on what the team wants to do. If someone is incredibly passionate about bringing in a specific creature, it's something we want to give opportunities to pursue wherever possible. As to the general ecology of Thedas - there are absolutely similarities, but it's not 1:1. A world where megafauna still exist as apex predators (dragons) is going to have some pretty significant impact on what else exists." --- User: "does the lighthouse have a kitchen, can we eat and drink? what sort interactables are there at the home base" John: "Not going to get into specifics on interactables, but there is more to do in the Lighthouse than conversations with companions. The Lighthouse does have a kitchen, and your companions acknowledge it/use it both narratively and ambiently. Some maybe better than others." John: "A little more expansion on this - we want the Lighthouse to feel like a 'real space' as much as possible. That means making it a space that makes sense and, eventually, feels like home to you and your team. It also means spending a little extra time on how the companions (and Rook) use and exist in the space. At this point we've made a LOT of personal hub spaces in DA and ME, and we've learned a lot from doing so." --- John: "It wouldn't be a DA game if we didn't have some returning characters. We've shown some of the more obvious ones, and hinted at others, but we want to keep some surprises for launch."

[source: the official BioWare Discord]

[fe-smashorpass]

On a lighter note: around 4 years ago I found a site that would allow people to easily make fake video game screenshots. Then I forgot what it was called (it has a really weird name).

Well… I final found it again:D

No fe game has been implemented yet, but have fun: https://deathgenerator.com/#gallery

My own fake screenshots under the cut

[sophrosynesworld]

Summer Softness

Katsuki’s always had that fierce, protective streak—everyone knows it. But what happens when the paparazzi go too far?

The gala is… unexpectedly pleasant. The air inside is filled with low, refined chatter, the clink of glasses, and the soft melodies of classical music drifting through the space. For a while, it’s easy to forget about the pressures outside.

Katsuki seems more relaxed than usual, in his own way. He’s never fully off duty—there’s always an edge to him—but tonight, he’s actually engaged in the conversation, smiling down at me as we move from one painting to the next. His crimson eyes scan the pieces before he offers a comment about the colors or techniques, terms he’s learned from watching me paint in our living room.

"I’ll be right back," Katsuki murmurs, his soft lips brushing against my ear as his hand rests gently on my waist. I hum in acknowledgment, leaning into his chest and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. As he steps away, I wander toward another sculpture, drawn in by the intricate twists of her hair, each curve and detail mesmerizing.

I glance down at the plaque beneath it.

Antonio Mardie, Summer Softness.

I step closer to the sculpture, tracing the air just above her delicate features, careful not to touch. The marble feels alive under the gallery’s soft lighting, shadows dancing over her form as if she might move at any moment.

"Beautiful, isn’t she?" A quiet voice pulls me from my thoughts. An older man, dressed in a dark coat, stands beside me, his eyes fixed on the sculpture. His expression is curious, like someone who’s seen countless works of art and yet still finds wonder in them.

I nod, glancing at him. “Yeah… I think she’s waiting for someone.”

He smiles faintly, a knowing look in his eyes. “Antonio Mardie was known for capturing fleeting moments—the softness of summer love, the quiet before a storm. It’s said this piece was inspired by a lost love, the woman he could never quite forget.”

I would go crazy without him too.

“It’s amazing,” I say softly. “Did he ever show it to her?”

“No.” The man’s voice is soft, eyes fixed on the sculpture as though lost in his own memories. “She died before it was finished… cancer.” He pauses, his voice faltering slightly before he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unsure if I’m apologizing for his loss or simply for prying too much.

He nods, a faint, melancholic smile gracing his lips. “It’s all right. She’s here, in a way.” He taps the plaque lightly, the metal clinking softly under his touch. “I like to think she’d be proud.”

I smile back. “I’m sure she would be.”

As the man turns and drifts back into the crowd, I feel that familiar sensation of being watched. Scanning the room, my eyes catch on a figure with platinum hair, sitting at the bar and sipping his drink. Katsuki’s gaze is locked onto me, as if he’s been waiting the entire time.

“You’re staring,” I tease. Katsuki's eyes track my every movement, but he doesn’t respond immediately, just extends a glass of wine as I reach him.

“Couldn’t help it,” he replies, his voice low. “You were stealing the spotlight.”

I chuckle softly, accepting the wine, brushing my fingers against his. “I guess I just found something worth looking at.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he leans back against the bar. "Me too.”

I take a sip of the wine, letting its warmth wash over me, and smile at him, feeling a little lighter.

The night flows like that, with a steady rhythm of quiet moments and his sharp, witty remarks keeping things light. Katsuki's hand rests on the small of my back, guiding us toward the entrance. We finally step outside, the colder winter weather enveloping us, and the next thing I know, they’re on us—paparazzi swarming from every direction. The blinding lights, the rapid clicking of cameras, and the overwhelming noise—it’s all too much. I blink, trying to make sense of it when suddenly, someone shoves past me. Hard.

My breath catches in my throat as I stumble forward, feet catching on the concrete. My heart stops in that split second—until a strong arm wraps around me, pulling me upright. It’s Katsuki who catches me mid-fall, his grip firm but careful, instantly shifting me behind him like the first time we met.

The second he pushes me behind his back, I feel his whole body tense. He’s furious—I can see it in the tightness of his jaw, the fire burning in his eyes. Katsuki’s glare cuts through the crowd, searing into the faces of the people around us. The once-shouting paparazzi shrink back, their aggressive pursuit turning hesitant under his gaze. My arms wrap around his waist, attempting to calm him, but it’s pointless.

His voice is low, a growl barely restrained. “Who the hell touched her?”

No one dares respond. The air around us feels heavy, almost crackling with his anger. He takes a step forward, towering over them.

“I said, who did it? Step forward, or I swear to god, I’ll give you something to report about.”

The crowd of photographers seems to freeze, like they’re deciding whether getting the next big story is worth Dynamight’s wrath. There’s a moment of eerie silence, then a few of them start backing away, realizing that whatever shot they were hoping for isn’t worth the risk.

He turns back to me, his crimson eyes searching my face with a sharp, almost frantic focus. His hands lift to rest on the sides of my face, and despite everything, his touch is gentle, almost delicate.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough but quieter now.

I nod, even though my heart’s still racing, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good,” he mutters, his jaw still clenched, though his grip loosens slightly. "If anyone tries something like that again, I’ll handle it.” He glances back at the remaining paparazzi, eyes narrowing into slits. “I'll fucking kill you. Put that on the record.”

With that, he guides me forward, his arm firmly around my waist, shielding me from any more intrusions. As we walk away from the crowd, I glance up at him, noticing the way he stays on high alert, even as the commotion begins to die down.

“Thanks, katsuki,” I whisper, but he just grunts in response, his eyes still scanning for any threats. But in this moment, walking beside him, I don’t mind the danger. Because I know, without a doubt, that he’s got me.

Author's note: I was giggling and kicking my feet this entire chapter. We are so back baby.

[bonus-links]

DIRECTORS COMMENTARY PLEASE I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS AND PROCESS <3!!!!!!!!

YEAHHH lots to say for this update

there's a scene I didn't so much as cut from the beginning of this update as significantly shorten: Wolf, Loft, Wake, and Slate are changing into their lighter outfits. Loft says the same line as having the party, Wake begs them for this one day with his Gran Gran, and they all agree they can wait. I've been trying to get better about like, not putting a ton of work into unnecessary connecting scenes, which is why I cut it down. Wake sounding more cavalier also works better for the overall chapter. But i was sad to leave this joke out lol:

may I present to you, Slate's picture gallery! he was mostly on task documenting flora and fauna but he gets a little sidetracked sometimes

I love the idea that he's just, like, kind of terrible at photography. he documents stuff for Zelda and it's always weirdly cropped and kind of out of focus, but she appreciates it anyway.

Slate is also picking flowers for the party! so he is still helping out on that front lol

idk if i've mentioned this before, but beetle does still have pincers! they're just. idk what the right word is. retractable maybe? yeah. like the ancient weapon blades

the filling of the half moon pies is pineapple :-) i was. so worried about it looking like an egg HAHA.

I thought way too hard about how they were going to cook these pies. I was originally going to draw a clay oven or some other setup, but ultimately I thought the Zelda tradition of only having pots over fires to cook was a funnier nod lol. So, they're frying the pies

believe it or not, I wrote this scene before reading dungeon meshi HAHA but it certainly served as good reference for how to set up shots for it

Aryll did in fact eavesdrop on Wake telling Tetra The Situation

That's Champion's little sister in the memory! I like the headcanon that her name was also Aryll.

Champion and his sister are making meat pies instead of pineapple ones.

One again, made a bunch of layout mistakes I ended up having to fix, except this time I didn't catch them until I had already gotten to rendering :-( if you're a patron, you probably saw these versions in the WIP:

problems here: Wolf is walking the wrong away. I was sad we'd be losing his expression but alas. And for the panels with Champion's sister, the angle is too low to be an actual POV shot. I could've left it and said he's just sitting or something probably but it was really bothering me lol so I redrew everything. and then recolored all of it. woof.

as a general rule, if he has scars, that's Slate. No scars is The Other Guy

I understand the complaint about this in BOTW, but I actually kind of like that weird moment that occurs after you finish a memory cutscene, and it just abruptly goes back to Link looking blank-faced like nothing happened. It implies this kind of....distance from the memories that I find interesting. Slate has complicated feelings abt the memories of Champion's life he gets, but like. there's pies to make

shout out to peony she's a real one

[sculkapologist]

I finally finished a NEW CUSTOM MAP ART!!! "Visitor," a portrait of an enderman, is extra exciting because it's my first full-palette map painting, meaning I used block height to access all the highlight and shadow colours available!! More on the full process under the cut, but the short version of what this means is:

ITS A VERY COMPLICATED CONSTRUCTION. I created the art, then planned and built this manually, without any mods or schematics for construction. Huge props again to everyone else in the server for helping me gather all the materials to make this absurd thing possible!!!

This was the original art I made for it! I'm a huge fan of the "compressed" look of the vanilla paintings, so I've been starting with a large image and shrinking it down, though there were a lot of pixel tweaks to get it to read well. After shrinking it to 16x32 (for an art made of two maps), I convert it to a limited palette that I've set up to match the colours minecraft actually has available:

The map palette is actually tremendously limited, so figuring out a painting that will still look good with that constraint is a challenge in and of itself!

Anyway, the way minecraft maps work, a block that is Taller than the block to the north of it shows up with a slightly lighter colour, and a block that is Lower than the block north of it shows up on the map with a slightly darker colour. So when making a key for this one, I marked all the squares with a little arrow if it's the lighter or darker version:

Each "pixel" here is a full stack of blocks on the mapped area: 64 blocks, 8 rows of 8. In order to achieve the affect of every block in a given pixel being taller or shorter than the block to the north of it, dark and light shades need to staircase either up or down. Because staircasing downwards in survival sounds even worse than this madness, I did some planning to make sure each of the "downwards" staircases would touch the ground, so I could simply staircase up from south to north instead. This involved figuring out how many up and down movements were in each individual column and planning out 32 little layouts:

It's worth noting that if you look up minecraft map art on Youtube, most of what you'll find is either, the simple realisation that placing blocks allows you to make custom map art, or an explanation of how to use a generator that will let you plug in any picture and then produce a schematic for you. It's very cool that these exist, but I wanted to do full palette art myself, without an auto-generated schematic, and at the time THERE JUST WEREN'T ANY TUTORIALS FOR HOW TO DO ALL THIS?? Now, having the experience of finagling all this, i think perhaps the reason is that this is a mad undertaking.

ANYWAY: PROGRESS SHOTS!!

I actually love how the staircases look..... its like some kind of modern sculpture

Fewer shots of the second half since I did it on call with friends; the last screenshot is one Thren took of me activating the new locked map to use for the gallery.

Once these paintings are done, I lock the finished maps, make copies, and stock them in the art gallery so other friends on our server can also put these paintings in their homes! It's a lot of work, but really rewarding to see my art decorating various buildings around the server. ;u;

I have one more custom full-palette painting I've done the art for and gathered all materials for; I still need to do the full key and plan staircasing for it before I can start, but HOPEFULLY if my resolve doesn't waver there'll be at least one more of these!!

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Epilogue: True Love Is Hard To Find

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is the epilogue of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series.

Word Count: 12.2K

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. Vomiting, Dark/Depressing thoughts, Heartbreak, FLUFF, FLUFF, and oh did I mention FLUFF, Sexual innuendo, Self-deprecating thoughts, Drinking, Cursing, Some references to past trauma, References to past sex,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Song lyrics are bold, italics, and are in red. The lyrics come from "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," by Russ Colombo (can be found at the link). This is the song I based the series on and it really is wonderful to listen to.

A/N: Well guys, we made it. Just remember that this isn't goodbye, it's I'll see you in a little while.

Five Months Later…

"Is it time to go yet?" Ben murmurs into your ear, his breath rustling against the hair he tucked carefully behind it moments ago, his hand pressing into the small of your back.

The sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and small chatter ebb and flow over the crowded art gallery, the white walls a subtle backdrop to the colorfully dressed people, waiters, and the canvases that hang on the walls.

Women in elegant dresses stand at different sized paintings while men dressed in casual suits and ties stand beside them in stoic contemplation, their eyes following the gentle brushstrokes that cover the canvases hanging in succession against the bland backdrop.

Waiters dressed in simple suits with silver trays of food and pastries weave through the crowded room, offering treats to whomever they stop by, while a bartender sits at a large wooden bar designed to fit into the venue serving drinks to patrons and pouring multicolored liquids into glasses.

It had been five months since Ben came back, five months since you said goodbye to Homelander, and five of the happiest months of your life.

The first month following Ben's return, you had taken him to the house in Maine, figured that you both could use a vacation and spent your days sunning on the beach together and curled up in bed making up for the time that you lost when Ben was gone. You weren't complaining, not when every day you felt the same way as when you'd woken up the day after your birthday, not when each time Ben kissed you felt like the first time, and not when every time he touched you it felt like you were filled with sunlight. You felt warmer, lighter, happier, and being with him was even more wonderful than you remember.

Every day was fused with wonder and expectation and every night Ben made you feel more loved than you ever had. You were so blissfully happy that you had forgotten the past and were excited for what the future would hold for the two of you.

Lou, Rosemary, and Ryan had come after a few weeks to spend time with Ben and you at the house. Lou was ecstatic that Ben was staying in your lives and spent every moment with him on the beach having him help her make sandcastles and look for shells and shiny rocks that were rubbed smooth by the waves.

Rosemary was still icy towards Ben, but you knew that she was starting to get used to him being around. All you hoped was that one day she would warm up to him, but it was a little less awkward between the two of them. She was at least calling him by his name and she could stand to be in the same room as him. When Ben read the paper in the mornings at the breakfast table off of the large kitchen at the house, Rosemary drank her coffee quietly and read through a paperback, you painted in your watercolor pad absentmindedly, and Lou tried her best to copy you all the while making small talk with Ryan who sat beside her.

Ryan was living in the spare room in Rosemary's apartment and despite being corrected, Lou referred to Ryan as her older brother every chance she got, something that always made Ryan brush bright red. At first Rosemary and you had been wary about bringing in a blossoming teenager in to her home, not to mention a blossoming teenager that had the ability to level a small building if he wanted to, but Ryan seemed to like living there and he didn't cause any unnecessary trouble. Butcher came by every week to take Ryan out of the apartment to give Rosemary a break and Ryan was always happy to go with him.

That was something you weren't sure about. Yes, you liked that Butcher had such a big influence in Ryan's life, but you didn't like how often he came by. You weren't sure you trusted him with what he knew about Lou's powers that only seemed to grow by the day since their development. Every time Lou watched something with a supe in it she started exhibiting a new ability, but she seemed to be able to turn them on and off at will.

Which was good. She also seemed to understand the idea that it wasn't good to show them in public. There were a few slip ups, for example when Ben and you took Lou for ice cream one day. she got so excited when she received the cone that she started levitating a few inches off the ground and another time she threw a temper tantrum at the grocery store and stomped her foot so aggressively against the ground that the entire building shook.

The looks she got when she did both of those things were the same looks you got when Lou called Ben and you "grandpa" and "grandma" in public.

But she was doing better and with Rosemary's ability to touch Lou and get the power Lou was exhibiting, Rosemary had been able to show Lou how to control some of the abilities better than others.

Ryan also helped. He was old enough to babysit Lou when there was no one else, comforting because now that Lou had powers you didn’t trust anyone else to be around her and didn't trust that Vought had forgotten. Ryan was just starting school, a school just a few blocks from Rosemary’s apartment where he could feel like a real kid, and was already struggling through math. When he asked Ben for help Ben had replied that Ryan didn’t need it and the only thing Ryan should focus on was sports.

Ben was no longer allowed to offer Ryan education advice and Butcher and you both tried your best to help Ryan with math instead. You’d also told Ryan not to listen to someone who got kicked out of every boarding school he ever went to, which only made Ben smack you on the ass and say "it takes one to know one" while Rosemary mimed vomiting in the kitchen.

You had asked Rosemary if she wanted to get a new apartment, big enough for everyone so you could be around 24/7 to help her, but she’d complained and said that she was too old to be living with her parents.

She was right, but you still tried your best to be around to give her a break whenever she needed one.

Of course it wasn’t all good in those five months.

Rosemary quit her job at the hospital after everything happened with Homelander and didn’t tell you that she’d gotten a new one working with Butcher on his team. When you’d confronted her about it she’d told you that it wasn’t a big deal, but to you it was. You had spent the past 40 years of Rosemary’s life keeping all the supe shit separate, but now she was diving in head first. You’d had a fight, a bad one, one of the worst the two of you had ever had and you’d spent three days in bed crying to Ben who held you tight and didn’t let you go. When Rosemary had finally showed up three days later, her own eyes red and rimmed with dark circles beneath you knew she was just as upset as you were. And then she told you why she did it.

It wasn’t because of Butcher, it was because of Homelander.

Rosemary was guilty, frustrated with herself because she had been unable to keep Lou safe from him. Rosemary said that she felt like she had been hiding her entire life, turning her back on a piece of herself, and that she needed to do this. She felt like a failure, worthless, and that she needed to embrace who she really was. So you tried to be supportive all the while contemplating if you should follow her on missions to make sure that she was okay.

But that seemed a little obsessive so you held yourself back.

It was going well and honestly, Rosemary seemed happy. Not to mention Butcher liked having her around for medical assistance if there was a problem in the field.

Ben was working for Butcher too, something else you also didn't agree with, but at least now you didn't have to worry about Rosemary as much. You knew that Ben wouldn't let anything happen to her, but you also didn't love that you now had both of them to worry about. Sometimes you thought about working for Butcher too, but after everything that happened with Homelander, Stan, Noir, and your old team, you were happy to immerse yourself in your art again, to dive in to your creativity and let it wash away any of your worries and pain that rose in the aftermath of the everything that had happened five months ago.

You'd told Ben that he didn't have to work, told him that the both of you had more than enough money for a few centuries, but for Ben it was bigger than that. He wanted to work, thought that it was his job to provide for the both of you, his job to take care of you, and you didn’t want to argue with him about that. It was difficult to say no to him, not when he was just as happy as you were, and not when he was giving you everything you said you wanted all those years ago the night you saved Noir. He had given you a home, someone who loves you, and someone to come home to and it was more wonderful than you could have ever imagined. He gave you everything he promised and more.

Sometimes when you were together, he'd get a look on his face like he had no idea how it happened, and you weren't too sure either, but you were so happy that you didn't care. The things you'd daydreamed about all those years ago, of Ben and you living together and being in love dulled in comparison to the real thing. You'd never seen Ben smile as much as you had in the past five months, never seen him so full of life and happiness in all the years you'd known him, and you wanted him to be that way every day for the rest of his life.

And you had never been as inspired to paint as you were now, hence the art show Ben and you were currently attending.

Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan were taking it easy for the evening and you didn’t blame them. Rosemary had just come back from an overnight trip with Butcher's team from somewhere in the South and stated she needed to relax. You’d graciously offered to take Ryan and Lou with you, but she’d waved you off. Said that it was alright and that Ben and you should enjoy yourselves.

You think that working together also helped Ben and Rosemary get more comfortable interacting, but there was still some tension that you hoped would fade in the coming years. It was better than it had been. You were also worried about them working with Butcher's team because of what you'd done to them at Vought, but so far there didn't seem to be a problem. In fact, Rosemary and Annie were becoming friends, which made you happy because Rosemary had friends, but none who she could be one hundred percent honest with about who you were and the powers she had. With Annie, Rosemary didn't have to pretend.

Grace Mallory called every week to check in and keep you updated on Homelander's progress. He was still the same as he had been five months ago, but she was getting a new doctor to come take a look at him, someone who was well versed in memory loss and you hoped he was able to figure it out. Not that you really wanted old Homelander to come back, but because you didn't know where to go from here. You knew that if Homelander ever got out, the first thing he would do was find Compound V, and then come after your family.  But it still felt weird to kill someone who didn't remember the things they had done.

Sometimes you wished that it could have been different, but if this was how it always ended up you wouldn't change a thing, because it meant that you might not be here with Ben.

You smile up at Ben, adjusting his dark tie with a steady hand and smoothing out the collar of his black suit. "We've been here for twenty minutes. And it was you that wanted to come to my show."

Ben grins. "Maybe I just wanted to see you all dressed up sweetheart. Have I told you how beautiful you look?"

He had, several times before you left your apartment. Not to mention you'd walked out of the bedroom and into the living room Ben had all but tackled you onto the couch and made the both of you late because you had to redo your makeup.

Your dress was maroon, backless, and had capped sleeves that fell off your shoulders to curve just over your biceps. It was cinched at the waist and fell elegantly to your feet that were encased in a pair of black heels that made you almost tall enough to reach Ben's shoulders. There was a new necklace hanging around your neck, one that Ben had gotten you for your one month anniversary. It was a kite cut emerald about the size of the end of your pinky. You still had the pearl necklace that Noir had stolen from you, but now when you looked at it, you felt sad and didn't remember your father. Not to mention the pearl necklace that Ben gave you as a replacement was still in pieces from the night that you both wanted to forget.

So he'd gotten you this one and you loved it, because it reminded you of Ben's beautiful eyes, the same ones that were focused on you right now, shining in the light of the gallery.

Ben looked better than you did, then again you always thought he did. He was wearing a sharp black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. Every time you looked at him you couldn't believe he was all yours. You wondered if he felt that way whenever he looked at you.

"I can't leave early, it’s my party remember? It would be rude to-"

He leans in again, his hand tightening on your waist. "I'd much rather take you home and congratulate you myself."

Ben doesn't miss the shiver that travels down your spine with his words, eyes shifting to the goosebumps that erupt on your arms. "Come on doll, I could go get the car right now." He purrs pressing a kiss just under your left ear, feeling your resolve begin to waver, which was already hanging by a thread. Ben never needed to do much to persuade you, but you noticed that when it came to you Ben also had a hard time saying no. And you loved how easily you worked him.

“Didn’t you congratulate me before we left?” You murmur kissing along his sharp jaw. “And this morning?” You drag your hands up his chest feeling a low groan vibrate through his rib cage. “And last night?”

“Are you complaining doll?” His eyes glint mischievously, smirk pulling at the end of his lips.

“No. Because I happen to like congratulating you too.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to congratulate you.” Ben nudges his nose against yours, before fitting his soft lips over your mouth. The subtle scratch of his well trimmed beard tickles against your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, his hand pressed against the small of your back, securing you against his strong body.

It was moments like this that made you want to melt into him, to let him take everything you were, and everything he was and mold them together as one. Ben was everything to you and now that you knew what it was like to have him not be in your life, you were never going to let him go.

"Ben." You smile, gently laying your hand on his cheek, feeling the coarse hairs of his beard scratch against your palms. "Please, just another hour at least."

"Sweetheart-"

You stand up on tip toe, so you can whisper in his ear while holding tight to his right shoulder. "Baby please. One more hour and then you'll have me all to yourself."

"Promise?" Ben murmurs, eyes darkening with your proposition.

"I promise."

Ben smiles pleased, and turns back to survey the crowds chattering about the paintings you had done, his arm wrapped around your waist.

The different sized canvases on the wall were awash with colors. The theme was "Out With the Old and In With the New," inspired by a trip Ben and you had taken to Philadelphia, but also you saw it as a new beginning, a way for the two of you to shake off the shadow of the past and move into the future together. He'd wanted to see how much Philadelphia had changed and you hadn’t been there since your brother’s funeral.

The two of you had spent the week going to places you knew all too well before you became supes. Some of the buildings were still there, while others had vanished into obscurity. Ben's family estate was still just as you remembered it. He was still technically the owner, but you didn't want to make him stay there, not when you knew about the scars that clung to the walls and creeped along the staircases. He had stepped foot inside, the musty smell wafting out through the open doors, the dust swirling in clouds with every unsure step he took. Ben's father had died a few years before Ben went to Russia, and despite all the ways Ben disappointed him, Ben's father still left him everything.

When Ben stood just in the entryway of the mansion you could see the weight settle on his shoulders once more, the weight his father put there and pressed into him. The last time the two of you had been there was when Ben's father died, but you hadn't been able to comfort Ben the way you wanted to then. This time you took him into your arms and pressed his head into your shoulder, trailing your fingers into his hair, and holding him close to you. Ben put it up for sale before the two of you left, and you were more than happy to see it go.

Your family home was still standing, but inhabited by your distant relatives from your brother's side of the family. You hadn't tried to make a connection with them since you vanished forty years ago and didn't want to insert yourself into their lives now. You had everything you needed, you had a family, and you had Ben.

The canvases on the walls were born from what you found remaining in Philadelphia, the city that rose from the one you used to know so well. Each painting was an amalgamation of your memories of the Philadelphia from your youth painted in shades of gray and what replaced it, rose from the canvas in splashes of bold color as if rising from the ashes. It was one of your best shows, and judging by the chatter you had heard and how excited your agent and the curator was you knew that there weren't many canvases left over. Your favorite was hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, the centerpiece of the entire show.

 It was painted from the memory of the day Ben and you sat on the warm soft grass by the pond at Fairmount park. In the painting two people sat on the bank, the boy half turned to stare at the girl with a flower tucked into his jacket pocket and the girl half turned, her face pointed down focusing on a watercolor pad  in her lap while her hair fell forward, but the audience could still see her smile and the boy's smirk. They sat in a haze of black and white while the new park swirled out from them in bold colors.

Ben hadn't seen it until you showed up to the gallery a few moments before the show opened. You'd kept it a surprise, only working on it whenever he was working, and his reaction was worth it. As soon as he saw it Ben had stopped dead in his tracks just within the front doors as if he couldn't believe it, his gaze focused on the picture. You'd asked him if he liked it and in response he had grabbed you and kissed you so fiercely in front of your agent and the curator that both of them walked away to give you some privacy. You were still buzzing from that kiss, well, the kiss and what Ben had done to you on the couch before you left your apartment together.

"I'm going to go get a drink." Ben glances in the direction of the bar before looking back at you. "Do you want something?"

"No, I'm okay right now. Thanks though."

He presses a kiss into the top of your head before he vanishes into the crowd. You prepare yourself for the wave of loss you feel whenever Ben leaves. It had only gotten worse after months of spending time together. When he went out of town it was almost unbearable, but he did try his best to keep you posted, by calling you whenever he could. Sometimes you worried that you needed him too much, that he thought you were being too clingy, but every time you tried to consciously pull back it was Ben that always doubled his efforts to be around you, almost as if he was trying to make up for you toning it down. It reassured you that Ben wanted you there and genuinely wanted to spend time with you.

"Y/n!" You hear a familiar voice say and you turn your head to see your friend Levi making his way through the crowd. His dark curly hair hangs over his shoulders in gentle waves and he's wearing a black button down shirt that he's rolled up to his elbows revealing the patchwork of ink covering every square inch of his golden skin. Levi was also an artist that showed at the gallery, which is how the two of you met. Over the years you had each gone to each other's shows and then out to dinner to celebrate. He was a good friend, but you knew he had feelings for you.

You had forgotten that he was going to be here, hadn't thought about it, and hadn't told Ben. An important thing that you should have told him because Levi is the man that you'd almost slept with.

It had almost happened two years ago and you had come to Levi's show, a collection of recycled sculptures that had stunned New York City. The two of you had gone out to dinner as you always did and after, Levi had leaned in to kiss your cheek to say goodbye, but you'd turned at the wrong moment and he'd caught your lips. The both of you had frozen outside the darkened restaurant, the sounds of the city rising around you, his dark brown eyes catching and holding your gaze. You don't know why you did it, maybe because you'd been lonely for so long or maybe because Rosemary had told you that you needed to start trying again, that she was worried about you being alone, so you kissed Levi.

You weren't sure how you ended up back at his apartment in his bed, but you'd stopped him just before you had sex. You told him that you couldn't do that, that you didn't think that you could be what he wanted, and that you were sorry. It had felt wrong to give him hope, only to take all away again. For you to do that had reminded you of the hope Ben had given you when you finally slept with him and how hollow you were when he broke your heart and told you that you meant nothing.

You refused to do that to someone else. 

Levi had been confused, but he'd respected you, told you that you didn't have to apologize for anything. Unfortunately since then it had been a little bit awkward, because you knew he still had feelings for you, not to mention he'd seen you naked.

"Levi!" You smile back at him

He pulls you in for a hug, holding on to you for a second longer than he should. "How are you? I haven't seen you around and you didn't come to my show. I was worried."

"Oh I was out of town for a little bit." You wave a hand. "Kinda last minute."

"Oh. Well, I guess you weren't too busy for this." He gestures to the canvases on the walls. "They're gorgeous. I think this is my favorite show of yours."

"You say that after every show."

"And you say that at every one of my shows."

"Because it's true." You roll your eyes at Levi. "Your work gets better with age-"

"I could say the same thing to you." Levi runs a hand through his tangled dark hair. "Come on, you have to tell me the truth."

"What?"

"Were you an art prodigy or something? You can't be much older than me and your work is just insanely mind-altering."

If only he knew.

"Nope. I've just been practicing a long time." You smile to yourself at the inside joke.

"So unfair. I hate you, you know that right." Levi grins.

"Oh please. If anything I should hate you. I've never been good with sculpture."

"I told you that I would be available for lessons anytime."

"I'll think about it."

Levi glances around the room at all the people. "You know, I think they make a bigger deal about your shows than mine."

"Green isn't a good color on you Levi." You snort at him.

He only smiles. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

You freeze. It was the same thing that Ben had asked you moments ago before Levi showed up. Except when Ben said it you couldn’t help but smile and blush, but when Levi said it, it just was weird.  "No. But it's alright." You smile awkwardly.

"Did you-" He clears his throat sensing the shift in conversation. "Did you want to get dinner after your show?"

The two of you hadn't had dinner since the incident two years ago, instead you had gone for coffee, because it felt less intimate and more like something the two of you could do as friends. You didn’t think that you would fall into bed with him if you were fully caffeinated. But it still made you feel bad because you thought you were leading him on, even when you told him exactly what you wanted.

"I know we haven’t in a while, but I miss you." Levi's eyes soften. "I know that what happened was a little awkward, but we can still be friends. Or maybe we can talk this out and you can tell me why you think doing this would be bad.” He gestures between the two of you. “Because we have so much in common and I really like you. And I think you do like me, but you just won't admit it-“

"Levi-" You begin to say, trying to think of a way to let him down easy, again, because he still didn’t seem to understand.

Ben's muscular arm weaves around your waist, pulling your hips back into his where he stands behind you as soon as you begin to answer, the warmth of his body like a shock to your system. He's got a glass of scotch in his free hand and he's staring at Levi with an unreadable expression.

Ben kisses you on the cheek, lingering for a second too long for it to be casual, blatantly marking his territory.

"What did I miss?" Ben says it as if he couldn’t hear the entire conversation from the bar, but you knew he had.

Levi’s eyes widen at Ben’s appearance and flick to you as if looking for an answer. Ben downs the glass in one gulp, placing it on the tray of a waiter who passes by.

“Ben, this is my friend Levi. Levi this is-“

You hesitate for a moment. Calling Ben your boyfriend felt wrong sometimes. Your relationship felt different to just say that he was your boyfriend, it didn’t seem to be enough, not to mention you felt like Ben was a little old to be your boyfriend, just as you felt a little old to be his girlfriend. Calling him your everything felt more appropriate, but it was too intimate for someone to know other than Ben.

“Ben.” Ben says extending his free hand to grasp Levi’s in a death grip, and you see Levi wince sightly when Ben tightens his grip. “Her husband.”

If you’d been drinking something you would have done a spit take right then and there. The word coming out of Ben’s mouth was foreign and so out of the blue the two of you might as well be swimming in the middle of a cobalt colored sea. The two of you hadn't spoken about that at all. It had never come up in conversation, even when the two of you took a walk around Rosemary's block and passed a jewelry store with a display of engagement rings. In fact the only time that you'd mentioned that you wanted to marry someone was the night that Ben almost killed Noir forty years ago and Ben made a joke about the two of you getting married. It had hurt when he did, it felt like he was mocking you, like he thought that it wasn't important.

That night you'd asked Ben if he wanted to marry someone and he said "maybe." You weren't sure if that was because Ben didn't believe in marriage or if he thought it wasn’t necessary, but to you things like that were important. You were old-fashioned and you wanted to marry Ben, you wanted to be his wife, but Ben hadn't proposed or stated that he wanted to marry you.

That could be your insecurity about being too clingy or your insecurity that Ben would pull away from you rising all over again, but you weren't sure if Ben cared about being your husband.

And yes maybe you were expecting a proposal sometime in the future, but it still hadn't happened and a part of you was worried that because it had not happened yet, it never would. Mostly because you couldn't think of what he was waiting for. He'd said that he never wanted to leave you ever again, told you that he wanted to give you everything you wanted, told you that he'd never love anyone else the way that he loved you, and yet there hadn't been talk to marriage. Not to mention you had told him that you loved him and that you'd never leave him and that you couldn't live without him.

Yes, you were living together, sharing a bank account, and spending every waking moment of your lives together, but there had been no discussion about him marrying you.

Which is odd because why did he tell Levi that we were married? Was he just trying to think of something official to make him back off?

Levi's eyes widen with the word "husband" his eyes darting to you in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that you got married, congratulations." It doesn't sound sincere, but if Ben hears the insincerity, he ignores it.

"Thanks Levi." Ben smiles wider, pulling you tighter against his side. "It's fairly recent. We're still in that Honeymoon Phase, you know how it is." Ben's smile turns more into a smirk. "Kinda hard to leave the apartment if you know what I mean, champ. Could barely get her to this thing."

Your entire face flushes bright red in embarrassment, struck speechless. You knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was doing this because he was jealous, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing or any less Levi's business what Ben and you did in your apartment. Ben also didn't have anything to be jealous about, Levi was nothing compared to him, no one was compared to Ben, not when you were children and not now. You were sure that you'd told him that over and over again.

"Oh-um-" Levi clears his throat awkwardly, his own cheeks the same color of crimson of yours. "Yeah, well-"

"But if you still want to have dinner, I'm sure my wife and I could work out something." Ben smiles enjoying how frazzled Levi is.

You try not to flinch when Ben says the word "wife." "Ben-" You begin, hoping to give Levi a way out.

"Well, I'll have to check my schedule. I've got a show coming up and well-" Levi fumbles. "I'll see you." He turns and vanishes into the crowd of people flocking to your paintings.

Ben chuckles to himself. "He couldn't get out of here fast enough could he?"

You don't answer him. Ben's arm is around your waist, the warmth of his skin diffusing through his suit jacket and your dress into your body, but you don't feel the comfort you did when he first put it around you.

"You didn't have to do that." You say.

"Yes I did. He was trying to come on to my girl and we both know how much I hate sharing sweetheart." Ben replies light heartedly and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Uh-huh." You look up at him. "So, I'm your wife? Funny I don't remember our wedding."

Ben's smile fades for a minute, clearing his throat. "He wants to fuck you. I was just trying to-"

"He's my friend Ben. We've been friends since I started showing in this gallery."

"He asked you to dinner."

"We've been to dinner before. We sometimes go out after the shows." You reply vaguely.

“You went out with him?” His eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

“No. We had dinner as friends. I recall you and I having dinner as friend a lot.” You say, not about to admit to Ben that you almost slept with Levi. You knew that particular piece of information was unneeded and would only upset him.

“That’s different!” Ben scoffs.

“Why is that different?” You pull back from him, letting his arm fall from your waist as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Because we both already were in love with one another!” Ben says it matter-of-factly as if it's the most obvious answer in the entire world.

"What? That doesn't make it a date!"

Wait, did he think that all those times we went to dinner were dates? Has Ben just been thinking that we were going out all these years? Is he freaking crazy? He doesn't have a right to think that way, not when he was sleeping his way through every major city in America.

"Yes it does."

"So you're telling me all those years that we spent together we were dating? And that you chasing after every woman who crossed your path was you what? Us having an open relationship?"

Ben narrows his eyes. "That's not what I'm saying."

"I mean, it kind of is. You think that just because we loved one another and went out to get food it was a date."

"No. I mean that it's different because you loved me and I loved you!"

"Ben-"

“Did you fuck him?” Ben's jaw locks, anger flashing in his eyes as he changes the subject.

Your mouth drops open in shock. "What? No. I told you that I've never been with anyone else, only you. I wouldn't lie about something like that-"

Does he really think that I would lie about that?

Ben's body stiffens and you see the dots connect inside his mind, green eyes hardening to a solid chunk of unyielding jade. "Is that the guy you almost slept with?" His gaze turns murderous.

"Ben-"

Ben's head swivels to glare at where Levi is standing across the room from the two of you speaking to someone else about his work. You can practically see the gears turning in Ben's head as he thinks of all the ways that he can kill him.

Truthfully you knew that Ben had a tendency to get jealous, had known it since the night Howard and you were dancing together, but you didn’t think that he deserved to be jealous about this.

I thought he was dead. I was trying to move on.. AND I didn’t sleep with him. Not to mention Ben and I weren't together. It's not like I was cheating on him or something.

"Why are you getting so angry? I wasn't cheating on you, we weren't together. And I didn't sleep with him."

"But he fucking touched you." Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at the back of Levi's head and you know that if Ben had laser vision Levi would be dead.

"He touched me two years ago! You're being ridiculous. I didn't go on a murder rampage through New York City whenever you slept with someone. If I did that there wouldn't be anymore women left in the state of New York."

"I am not being ridiculous!" He snaps eyes flashing back to you.

"Okay you've got to calm down."

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down."

"I don't understand why you're getting so angry about something that didn't happen. Not to mention it's me that has the right to be angry!"

"Why?"

"Because this," You wave your hand around the gallery. "Is my job and that," You point at Levi "Is kind of my coworker and you embarrassed me!"

"What? How the fuck did I embarrass you?" Ben was trying to keep his voice down, but you knew that it was becoming difficult for him.

"Well, call me crazy, but I don't want to talk about my sex life with someone else. Not to mention you had no right to lie to him. I get that you get jealous, but what you did was uncalled for."

"What in the actual fuck are you talking about?" His hands are clenched into fists at his sides so tightly that the skin stretched tight over his knuckles is white.

"We aren't married Ben. We live together. Those are two different things."

"It's not that different." Ben's shoulders fall and you see something flash for just a moment in his eyes that looks like disappointment.

Does he really think that living together and being together is the same as being marriage? As making a life-long commitment to someone? I mean I want to be married to him because I want to make that promise to him, want to bind myself to him because he's the only man that I've ever loved and I ever will love. I want to be his wife because I can't see my life without him in it.

"It is to me."

"But-"

"But what?" You scoff.

"Well we-" Ben's eyebrows furrow as he tries to find the right words, but he comes up empty handed.

"The only time that you've ever brought up marriage was when you were drunk off your ass on my couch after Noir, when you brought up Howard and then made a joke about the two of us getting married!"

"I mean, it wasn't completely a joke and I told you that I wasn't that drunk." Ben frowns. "And that doesn’t mean anything!"

"What do you mean it doesn’t mean anything? To me it does. Making that promise to someone, making a vow to them, binding yourself to them and saying those words aloud in front of everyone you love to someone means something to me. And I've told you that. I've told you what I wanted." You look up at him for a moment, before you realize something. It creeps along your skin like the first frost on a window pane. "Wait, are you saying that the idea of marriage doesn't mean anything to you? That you don't want to marry me?"

"Sweetheart wait a minute." Ben reaches out for you, but you take a shaky step back from him.

“What are we doing?”

 “Huh?”

“I mean really. What are we doing?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know that Ben can hear you. Emotion makes your voice wobble as you stand there and look at him. He looks just as devastatingly handsome as he always does, but something lurks in his eyes that you can't place.

Deep down you had believed that Ben wanted to marry you, but maybe he was just waiting for the right moment, but now you weren't sure. Based on everything he'd said in the last minute you were starting to think that Ben didn't want to marry you.

If marriage doesn't mean anything to him, then does that mean he doesn't want to marry me? And then where is this going? I know that I want to get married and if he doesn't does that mean I'm not his forever?

"What do you mean?" The look on his face shifts into something else, something that looks surprisingly like fear, and to see that on Ben's face was physically jarring.

"If we're not going to get married then why are doing this? Why are we-" You look around the room, suddenly cold. "Ben, why are we together?"

You knew that you loved Ben more than anything and that you wanted to be apart of his life forever, that you wanted Ben to be your always. You wanted to say those words to Ben, to make that vow to love and cherish him for the rest of your life, but he didn't want to make them to you. Suddenly you felt like the stupid little girl that lived in Philadelphia and always did what you were told the one that watched her best friend make out with girls like Missy Callahan and longed to be with him.

"Sweetheart-" Ben says, stepping forward to touch you again, but you pull away from him. "Wait-" The tone of his voice is thick with emotion, gruff, just a rumble.

“I think you should leave." You say it, but your voice sounds hollow and far away.

It was the first time that you’d told him to leave since the night he came back to you, the first time since he came back that you wanted to be alone. You wanted to think this over, because now that you knew how he felt about marriage all you could think of is the possibility of spending years together only to be traded out by a newer model because Ben never wanted to marry you.

The people around you laughing and chatting at each of your paintings all of a sudden seem to be mocking you. Their happiness and joy taunting the warring heartbreak and hurt that swirls in the pit of your stomach. You feel your mind begin to slip into the memory of when you walked out of the bathroom at the night of the premiere, when you wove through the people who were so happy to be there while your heart was breaking. When it felt like your world was ending, and honestly, the feeling that you have now feels almost too similar to ignore.

"No I want to talk about this. I don’t want to leave.”

"I want you to." You lock eyes with him, fighting the urge to cry. "I need some time and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here right now."

"But-" Ben's eyes haven't left you.

"Please go."

"Sweetheart-“

“No." You say sharply. "I think it would be better if you just went home. You wanted to anyway.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. "And this isn't the place for us to talk about this."

“Not because I didn’t want to be with you. I wanted to go home with you.” He emphasizes and reaches for your hand, but you move it away from him. Ben winces as if it hurts for him to be unable to touch you. Given what he'd confessed to you in the past you knew it was true.

“No I-“ You shake your head, tears burning against your eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t be with you if I’m not your forever. If you don't want to marry me. I-” Your eyes lock with his, hurt and heartbreak clamping around your heart in a vice. “So please just go.”

"Let me explain."

"No. I need to be alone."

“Sweetheart-“

“How many times do I have to say it? I want you to leave!”

The people around you turn to look at where Ben and you are standing, hearing your final words ring in the air between the two of you.

Ben freezes, something vulnerable crossing over his face before his expression hardens into the one that was more familiar. “Fine.”

And as he walks away, weaving through the people that stand at every canvas, you try not to feel the pit open up beneath your feet ready to swallow your broken heart whole.

When you get home the apartment is cold and dark, the shadows of your living room lengthening with every step you take towards the dark hallway and what lies beyond. Hurt, sadness, and remorse creep along your skin like a spider, it's spiderweb clinging to your body and ensnaring you like a wiggling fly in it's grasp. There was no warmth, only the cold chill of fear of what you’d find when you entered your shared bedroom.

Ben's cologne was stale, hanging in the air, but it wasn't fresh, just a reminder, and you knew deep down it was because he wasn't here. But somewhere you clung on with bloodied fingertips hoping and praying that he was.

You'd spent the rest of the evening nursing a glass of red wine, fiddling with your necklace, and talking with anyone who came up to you about the paintings, but you lacked the enthusiasm you should have.

Nothing else seemed to matter, not after the fight you'd had with Ben, and standing amongst your creations felt frivolous, especially when everything you said to him rang in your ears.

At the end of the night you'd stood at the centerpiece, looking at the  familiar brushstrokes and splashes of color of the picture of Ben and you sitting on the bank of a pond while tears crept along your cheeks.

Your agent had taken your tears as tears of joy, happy that you’d sold out your show, but gazing up at the painting you regretted it's sale. It made you feel like a part of you was being sold, as if the memory you had of that day would go with the painting to it's new owner leaving you with nothing.

You'd realized as the night wore on how stupid you'd been. You wished that you could go back and apologize for everything you said to Ben, because it didn't matter, nothing else mattered to you but Ben. And you hated yourself for telling him to leave, not when you knew how much he hated it when you told him to go and when you knew after all these years he still struggled with the idea that you didn't want him with you, when in reality being without him made you feel as if you were drowning.

And right now in the aftermath of the fight, you could feel the seaweed tangling around your ankle to pull you under.

As you stood there gazing up at the painting you'd realized that maybe Ben really did think the two of you were married and maybe deep down you knew that. That it wasn't about saying those vows in an official ceremony, it was about everything the two of you said to one another every day since he came back, it was about the promises that Ben made and kept, and it was about everything the two of you had been through over the years.

A stupid ceremony and certificate didn't matter to you, not if it stood in the way of Ben and you. You'd graciously take everything he had to give you for the rest of your life, and you knew that Ben felt the same way. You knew that he wasn't going to leave you, wasn't going to cheat on you with someone else, and wasn't going to turn his back on you. Not after everything the two of you had gone through and not when you knew how much Ben loved you.

That was what you wanted to say to him now, because you felt so stupid that you yelled at him. To tell him that none of it mattered, that the only thing that mattered to you was him.

The urge to throw up surges into the back of your throat as you creep down the hallway, but when you open the bedroom door you see that the bed is empty. A cold hands traces it's way down your vertebrae bringing with it the chill of fear that you'd done it, you'd finally made Ben want to leave you, that he was fed up and he was gone for good.

You almost don't make it to the bathroom sink before you throw up the two glasses of wine you drank, the sour taste of bile and alcohol burning your throat as your hands tighten on the cool lip of the marble vanity. Sweat and tears streak down your red face as a shudder works it's way through your body.

You'd hoped that he'd be in bed, the thought was optimistic at best, but you knew that Ben couldn't go to bed without you. Even when you were up late painting Ben would always pull you away to come to bed, because he needed you there, he wanted you beside him as he drifted off, holding you close against his chest and molding his body around yours. When Ben went away for work and was gone for days, he always came back with dark circles under his eyes, and you knew he didn't sleep, because Ben couldn't sleep without you.

You could feel the ghost of his touch against your skin, causing more tears to crest and fall down your cheeks and another shudder shake your body.

You scramble to find your phone where you placed it on the counter beside you. The selfie of the two of you on your home screen pressed cheek to cheek almost mocking before you swipe your thumb frantically to find his contact. You hold it up to your ear listening to the line ring and each time it does, it's like another nail in the coffin, because Ben doesn't answer.

When the voicemail starts you're not really sure what to say.

"Hey it's me-" You clear your throat, but it does little to hide the sob. "I just got home and you're not here and I miss you." Your voice breaks. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you or made a big deal about it, please Ben just come home. I was being stupid and I don't want to live without-"

The message is cut off and you stand there with the phone pressed into your cheek for another minute, unable to put it down. You feel it crunch in your hand as you lose control, crying harder as you stand there in front of your vanity trying desperately not to feel like this is the end and Ben was never coming back.

The shower you take is longer than you intended, because you zone out halfway through and it's only when the water runs cold that you realize you need to get out. It's been over an hour since you got home, almost past one in the morning, but Ben still isn't there.

Instead of putting on one of your shirts you put on a pair of panties and you grab an oversized cotton shirt of Ben's that hangs mid-thigh, inhaling the familiar scent and trying to find some comfort, but all it does is remind you that he's gone and nothing compares to when he's here with you.

When you slide into bed, it's cold, and fear begins to trickle along your skin, fear that Ben was never coming back and the last thing you'd ever say to him was that you couldn't be with him and you wanted him to leave.

Something rough works it's way down your arm in a gentle motion, stirring you from sleep. One look at the alarm clock on your bedside table reveals that it's well past four in the morning. You didn't remember falling asleep all you remembered was crawling into bed and hugging Ben's pillow to your chest wishing that it was him.

You blink your eyes to adjust to the darkness, noticing a dark figure sitting on the edge of your side of the bed staring down at you. Ben's green eyes catch in the light that comes from the cracked bathroom door, flashing dark green in the mist of darkness that shrouds his body from the rest of the light. He's wearing the white button down shirt, but his suit coat and tie are missing. The first few buttons are unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing freckled skin. His hand is tracing it's way over your arm, the roughness of his palm against your skin familiar, warm and comforting.

"Ben?" Your voice is hoarse and broken, for a moment unsure if this is a dream and he's not really here.

He doesn't say anything.

"Ben!" You practically shout it this time and surge upwards out of the bed to wrap your arms around his body so tightly that you think you hear the cracking of bone, but you can't control yourself now. Not when he's warm and he's here, not when he came back despite what you yelled at him.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Tears were streaking down your face where it’s buried against the smooth slope his neck, saturating his dress shirt. “ I don’t want to lose you over something stupid like that.” You pull back to cup his cheeks taking in a shaky breath as you lean your forehead against his, memorizing the familiar edges you love so much. Even as close as you were to him you wanted more, you always wanted more. “I love you, only you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I ever will love anyone. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry that I asked you to leave, I don’t want you to leave ever again. Whenever you’re not here it’s cold and colorless and I don’t want to live my life like that ever.” Your body shakes with sobs as you hold Ben tighter against you, afraid that he’ll vanish before your very eyes. “You and me together is enough for me. It’ll always be enough for me. We don’t have to-“

“It’s not enough for me.” Ben interrupts, his eyes not leaving your face. His expression is unreadable, the soft plains of his face sharpening in the moonlight that seeps through the bottom of the curtains of your shared bedroom.

“What?” You gasp and could feel your heart seize in your chest and your throat tighten in fear.

I can’t lose him, not again, not over a stupid argument that doesn’t mean anything when Ben means everything.

“This.” He clears his throat and gestures between the two of you. “Us being together like this, it’s not enough for me.”

It feels like you'd taken a bullet to the chest again, a sickening jolt back, and a sharp pain that follows as everything you know is stripped away. You're sure that you're about to break down into nothing, your heart crumbling in your hands as you try to hold it out to him and he turns away from you. Him saying those words to you made you feel like you had nothing left, because to know that you had him and lost him hurt more than knowing what it was like not to have him as completely as you had for the past five months.

"Ben please. I'm sorry I-" You sob, trying to cling to him, afraid to let him go, but he pulls away and stands up from the bed. "Don’t go please! Just tell me what I can do to make this right. Tell me how I can fix this." The words sound garbled as they exhale in one breath through tears and snot reaching for him frantically. "Please Ben I can't lose you-"

Ben takes your outstretched hand, gaze focused on your face. "Come on." He tugs gently, expecting you to follow him out of the bed.

"No, I want to talk about this. I don't want you to go!"

"Come on sweetheart." Ben encourages you quietly, tugging your hand once more, and this time you allow him to help you up from the bed.

You follow behind him, sobs shaking your shoulders because you're afraid Ben is taking you out to the living room to yell at you again, to tell you that he doesn't love you and you're going to find a packed bag.

But then Ben squeezes your hand to comfort you as you enter the living room and you stop dead in your tracks.

The entire room is covered in lavender, the kitchen counter, the coffee table in front of the plush leather couch, the large wooden table on the opposite side of the room that serves as your desk/workstation, and on the kitchen island broken up intermittently by candles that cast a soft honeyed light over the room. You gasp softly as Ben releases your hand, looking around the space with awe. You'd never seen so many bouquets of lavender in your entire life, each one sitting in a pretty glass vase, and in the center of the room stands one of your cherry wood colored easels holding the painting of Ben and you sitting on the bank of the pond.

You step closer to the painting, tracing the brush strokes with your eyes as you had earlier that night, reaching out to touch the edge, suddenly confused.

"Ben, what is this?" You turn to look at him, wiping the back of your hand across your face. You were sure that your eyes were puffy and that you were still covered in a layer of tears and snot, but you didn't care. Ben had seen you like this before and you were more worried about what was happening rather than how you looked.

You didn't understand what was happening, not when Ben came home so late and not when you had spent the entire night worried that he wasn't going to come back to you.

Ben is standing by the record player pushed up against the brick wall of your apartment that stands opposite your exhaustive collection of records and drops the needle. The song that begins to play is hauntingly familiar and you recognize it before Russ Columbo starts to sing.

"I can't forget the night I met you, That's all I'm dreaming of..."

It wasn't the first time that Ben and you had listened to this particular record, or danced together in the living room of your apartment in the quiet hours of the evening to "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love." The song was filled with memories, some good, some bad that the two of you had shared over the years. The words heavy and familiar, the story much too similar to the one you shared with Ben.

A part of you is surprised that he chose to play it. You still didn't quite understand what was happening, you thought that Ben was breaking up with you, but this didn't feel like a ending.

"How did you get the painting? I sold it." You ask him.

"You made a promise to be faithful, By all the stars above…"

The song continues to play bringing memories of each time it did rising with the soft familiar swell of the music. A flash of you dancing for the first time with Ben flits across your mind bringing the usual warmth and happiness followed by the memory of your birthday when you danced together and it felt like no one else existed as if it were just the two of you left in a world where everyone else was gone.

"I know." Ben half-smiles. "I bought it."

"But why?"

"My heart is beating, For you constantly…"

He's still standing by the record player as if he's afraid to get closer to you. "Well, I've never bought any of your work and I wanted to be supportive." Ben shrugs. "And I didn't want someone else to have a piece of us Sweetheart, felt wrong."

"You're all I needed, And so I pleaded, Please come back to me…"

Your breath catches. It was the same thought you'd had when you were standing at the painting at the end of the night wishing that you hadn't sold it, wishing that you kept it for Ben and you.

"Look I-" Ben clears his throat. "I've- fuck- I’ve never had a way with words, you know that." He takes a cautionary step forward towards you as if he's afraid you'll run. "But I'm going to try my best here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry."

"You made a plaything out of romance, What do you know of love…"

"Ben no, you don't have to apologize for anything." You close the distance between the two of you, taking his hands in yours to wash away any uncertainty Ben has about touching you. "It was me, it was all me and I shouldn't have said what I said and I shouldn’t have made you leave. I hate it when you leave. I-"

"Hey. Let me say this first." Ben's thumb rubs over the back of your hand, his eyes wide and an understanding smile on his face.

"At first, a slight suggestion, That grew to light my mind, Was the eternal question…"

"Okay." Your heart was stuttering in your chest, senses overwhelmed by the lavender that covered the room.

Ben looks down at your hands for a minute. "I'm sorry that I made you cry again. I hate it when you cry, especially when it's my fault. And I'm sorry that I made you think that I didn't want to marry you.” He almost whispers it and takes a deep breath. "When you asked me forty years ago if I wanted to marry anyone the only person that I could ever see myself marrying was you. Spending my life with you, waking up with you every morning, going to bed with you, and showing you how much you mean to me. And the truth is, it's all I've been thinking about since I got back, but I-" He swallows, still not looking up at you. "Fuck. I didn't think you'd say yes. "

"True love is hard to find…"

He wanted to marry me forty years ago?

Your eyes widen. "What? Why would you think that?”

Ben's green eyes flick up to yours for a moment, raising an eyebrow to remind you that he's trying to say something.

"Sorry." You murmur, tightening your hands around his.

"I don't deserve you, I never have. Fuck, it feels like my whole life I've been trying to earn you, but I never seem to come close." He sighs. "I've fucked up so many times and I've hurt people, killed others. I fucked up our friendship and I pushed you away, because I was-” Ben tighten his jaw as if it’s difficult to say the next words, “-Shit-" he murmurs the word under his breath before he continues, "scared to fail you and scared that I couldn't be what you wanted. I thought you deserved someone better, someone good, someone who wasn't such a fuck up like me, someone who you could love you the way that you deserve and I-" Ben swallows and takes another deep breath. "I spent my life chasing away everyone who tried because I hated the thought of you with someone else.”

"And in the day I found you, my love I had to share, I built my dreams around you…"

It hurt you to hear him say those things about himself, hurt you to see him still buckle under the pressure that his father put on his shoulders, and hurt you to see how little he thought of himself. Ben was one of the strongest people you knew, but even then you knew he needed you, and you'd spent your entire life making sure that you were there for him and you weren’t going to stop now.

"Somehow you made me care…"

"And yet every time I'm with you, you've never make it seem like I don't belong there. You don’t make me feel like a fuck up or a disappointment. You don’t turn your back on me or ignore the parts of me I tried to cover up for so long from everyone else. You see me, more than anyone has.” Ben murmurs, the smile on his face breaks something deep down inside of you and you can feel the tears begin to spill all over again. He traces a rough hand along the soft smooth edges of your face. Hands that had done painful over the years but were only gentle to you, hands that held you close, and treated you with love that only you were able to see. "You make me feel loved and I thought that I'd never have that, that I didn’t deserve it, but ever since I was eight years old you've forced yourself into my life and I can't imagine a world without you in it, I don't want to."

"Ben-" Your voice breaks with a sniffle, eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"Shh. I've still got a few more things." Ben smiles, brushing away a tear from your cheek. "You know my old man never gave me any advice that was worth a damn, but your dad did. He said that there's going to be a lot of women I run into and that most men pick from first glance the flashy ones that don’t last, the ones that aren't willing to stay for long, and the ones that care about all the wrong things. Your dad told me that I should pick someone that understands me better than I understand myself, someone who holds me accountable, someone that doesn't put up with any of my bullshit, someone to grow with, someone who loves me even if I believe they shouldn’t, and someone that makes me a better man." He chuckles under his breath. "And I knew exactly who he was talking about the minute he said it, because it's you sweetheart, it's always been you, from the moment you walked into that damn study and lied to my father about where I was."

"My heart is beating, For you constantly…"

The song is in full swing now, but you can barely hear it, all you can hear is Ben's steady heartbeat and yours beating together in tandem. The love you feel for him swelling in your chest with the music and with his words. You want so badly to pull him close and tell him how much you love him, how he's the only one, how he's everything you dreamed of, but you're trying not to interrupt him.

"Eighty years ago I made a mistake, I asked you to leave everything behind and come with me, because I couldn't lose you and because I couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. I didn't ask you to marry me, I didn't tell you how much you meant to me or that I loved you. I was selfish and I took advantage of our friendship. I strung you along all those fucking years, made you wait-"

"You didn’t take advantage of our friendship-“ You begin to say.

"Sweetheart please." He squeezes your hand and continues. "Forty years ago I made another mistake." He closes his eyes as if trying to forget for a moment, before he looks you in the eye once more. "I had everything I wanted for one night and then I fucking lost it. I treated you like you meant nothing to me. I threw you away. I said terrible things to push you away. I hurt you, and I will regret those things for the rest of my life, because it’s not true, you mean everything to me."

"You're all I needed, And so I pleaded, Please come back to me…"

You raise your free hand to his cheek. "I've forgiven you." You whisper and Ben leans into your hand.

"I know. And I don't deserve that, I don’t deserve you, I never have and I don’t think I ever will. You have meant more to me than anyone in my entire life. You are my family and my home. You have stood by me and loved me despite all the terrible shitty things I've done. You have seen me at my worst and you never left. Being your boyfriend isn’t enough for me. You being my girlfriend isn’t enough and frankly, it doesn’t feel like the right word for you not when you mean this much to me and not when you're the only person I need. So I'm asking you," Ben drops down on one knee, making your breath catch in your chest.

"Eighty years too late, to spend the rest of your life with me. Because I've spent the past forty without you and I don't want to spend another second regretting that I didn't do this eighty years ago. I'm asking you to chose me one more time, Sweetheart, and I promise that every day I will chose you every day for as long as I live. You said that you wanted to be my forever, well sweetheart, I can't imagine anything better." Ben swallows and reaches into his coat with his free hand, his right still holding on to yours, for a black suede box. "Will you marry me?"

You stand there for a moment stunned as he opens the box in his hand, gazing up at you like you're the sun as if you shone so brightly that the heavenly hosts bowed to your brilliance and he can't help but worship you. It's the same way that you saw the couple looking at each other the night Ben and you danced for the first time that continues to play in your silent apartment, bathed in the golden glow of candle light.

You gaze at Ben, eyes tracing the familiar face, seeing the old parts of him and the new ones that you'd come to love. You could see the boy you grew up with and the man he became, the same one you knew as a child and the man you fell in love with. The one who always put you first, who cared for you, protected you, and the one you thought you lost years ago.

The ring nestled in the black velvet is everything you imagined it to be. It's perfect, elegant, classic, it's you in every way, and it only proves to you again how well Ben knows you.

You could remember the day that Howard proposed, when all you felt was dread as he dropped to one knee in the dining room in front of your parents and revealed the ugliest piece of jewelry you’d ever seen, when he didn't make a grand gesture, didn’t profess his love to you, and didn’t make you feel special.

But Ben did. He always made you feel special, seen, loved, and appreciated. You refused to live another moment away from him and refused to deprive yourself of this indulgence, of him.

Ben had saved you more times than you could count and the day he took you away from Philadelphia was one of them. Away from a man who didn't love you, who didn't appreciate you, and who didn't think that you were worth more than a trophy to parade around a city.

You smile at the ring, tears glazing your eyes, because after all these years, you were right, Ben knew exactly the ring to get you and he knew exactly what to say to make everything else fade away into the past and have you hopeful for the coming future with him.

"Sweetheart?" Ben murmurs, looking suddenly worried and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

You look from the ring to the man you love with your entire being. "Took you long enough Benjamin."

Ben's smile makes you melt from the inside out. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes." You smile, vision blurring as Ben smiles even wider and puts the ring on your finger, before rising up from the ground to capture your lips against his as if he wishes for the two of you to fall in love all over again.

"There isn't anyone else Ben." You murmur against his lips. "There never has been and there never will be. All I  want is you and me, forever."

Ben kisses you all over again, his hands holding you so tight against his chest that it’s almost painful, your own tangled in his hair, but you can't stop and you don't want him to either. Not when this was what you wished for, not when this was what you wanted for so long and you thought you'd never had, and not when you'd thought you'd lost him.

"Then I'll give it to you sweetheart." Ben presses his forehead against yours, his eyes shining. "I'll give you forever."

"And you call it madness, Oh but I call it love…"

A/n: I'm not crying... I lied, I am BIG time. Goodness, finishing this series is like saying goodbye to characters that feel like my children. Honestly, I can’t believe that we've finally all made it here, but here it is. There are so many people that I want to thank, too many to name, those who have been here from the beginning and those who came later, people who's constant comments, reblogs, and encouragements made me turn this story from one chapter into a multi-chapter fic. There are just so many wonderful people that I've interacted with on this site that made me want to continue writing and helped me find confidence in how I wrote and this fic is for them.

As always thank you so much for reading! This series will be continued in the form of some one-shots that I am plotting out currently and I have a lot of really cute ideas and some that are more angsty. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for future fics in this universe. ❤️🥰

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

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@lifeonawhim @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife

@xxannyxx

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[pillowspace]

Someone on Discord asked me how I do shading/lighting on Siffrin's hat, and I thought "I would have a more coherent time showing it rather than just finding the words" so I did this, but I'll also show it here in case anyone wants it

The text:

Okay, so here's a Siffrin from my gallery with some layers turned off, but it's already got the normal shading.

Personally, I color-pick the dark grey from Siffrin's hat in his portraits.

Black airbrush a preferred side.

White airbrush on the other side in a slightly lesser amount. I set that to Add.

I may then also airbrush in black beneath the hat. One in a smaller area with a higher concentration, then a larger lighter one across the face. I also may airbrush a shadow on the hat if it fits the drawing. These shadows do not go on the inner hat.

You can stop there if you want, but since Siffrin is next to Loop in the drawing this is from, there is a large white area with the airbrush set to Add for lighting.

Nothing special here! Simply drawing in completely opaque white around the edges of bright lighting can have a nice effect.

And if you want, taking a colour like this:

(blue)

and covering the drawing with it set to Vivid Light on a super low opacity can have a cool effect!

[nocofamilyau]

ik its not Noco related, but how are people like Duncan, Alejandro, Heather, Gwen and Courtney?

since you said Zeke died from the lava, does that mean Alejandro was also killed by the volcano :0

Heather probably got the one of the best hands out of being on Total Drama, with not only her winnings being given back to her as a result of Chris getting the shit sued out of him, but from all the brand endorsements and guest appearances she made shortly after. That eventually spawned into her own show 'The World According to Heather', a talk show of some kind where she mainly talks shit about other (usually famous) people, particularly with who she has on as a guest for that particular night. It had a pretty successful run worldwide, heard it was most popular all over Europe. She's living quite a luxurious life still, with a lavish house up in the hills, she's married to some rich CEO and they recently had a child who she spoils ROTTEN. 'The World According to Heather' still lives on as a podcast, and she has quite the social media following to match.

Gwen was still being dragged through the mud after World Tour ended, the whole 'Boyfriend Stealer' title not really rubbing off until a few years after the fact. She kept pretty low profile throughout her young adulthood as reality TV slowly began to fade out of people's minds, finishing that art history degree and now works as a curator for art galleries across the country, hoping to open back up to the public again as an emerging artist at some point. Somewhere along the line she (accidentally) reunited with Trent at a jazz bar, where they managed to sort things out, started dating again, and are now happily married with two young daughters (a boring, but sweet ending nonetheless).

Courtney claims to have powered past all the Total Drama bullshit after high school, believing it was all just a waste of time in the end (she's totally over that shit now... promise!). She put all that rage into graduating Law school with an honours degree, and is a pretty successful lawyer with quite an... interesting method of whipping her clients into enough shape to change the judge's minds on what they deserve, despite most of her clients doing things that are... somewhat questionable on if they deserve a lighter punishment or not...

Duncan's been having it rough as of late, Gwen broke up with him shortly after World Tour (it really wasn't worth it in the end, no matter what the producers told them) and never really stopped his life of crime. He was in jail for a few years for destroying some rich dude's property, probably committed arson too while we're at it, but he could not rule that place with the iron fist he had back in juvie, his time on Total Drama dampening his reputation. Tired of that, he fled the country, and hasn't been seen since. Rumour has it he's now residing somewhere in Mexico, probably to join a drug cartel or something like that...

also I've written about what happens to Alejandro here.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

The sun to me

Chapter I: The Seed. Part I.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 1.8k

chapter summary: a glimpse into the world of hwang hyunjin, the artist and the celebrity.

warnings: swearing, smoking, drugs, one night stand, brief sex scene, hyunjin is an asshole for a few moments

~ Masterlist for the series ~ next part

Click. Click. Click.

The flash of the camera illuminates the room and the almost expressionless face, the owner of said face leaning his body towards one of the canvases hanging on the wall.

One of his many pieces that once only existed in the depths of his mind and heart, spilled onto the canvas adorned with a stylish bronze frame.

The flash once hurt his eyes, but as the time went on and the flashes got more frequent, his eyes adjusted and he became desensitized to the attention.

It was all just a familiar cycle. Sit in front of a blank canvas, prepare your paints, prepare your paintbrushes, prepare your fucking inspiration or at least find it somewhere hidden under a carpet, shoved into a metaphorical hole, sucked into the endless void.

Put it on the wall of your gallery, say some pretentious shit, strike a few poses and act like you're happy and motivated to even live.

Rinse and repeat.

As your admirers scream and throw wads of cash at your feet, be happy, you're living your dream, be happy, you got what you wanted, be happy, your life is perfect.

What was the inspiration for this piece?

Just say some poetic shit and everyone will eat it up, thinking how deep you are, admire the artist, admire the art, admire the lie.

Life is perfect.

Hyunjin looks for a moment of peace. He finds just that, one moment, as he manages to slip away to the balcony. He presses his elbows on the cold, hard stone, leans on his open palms and looks down.

The suit he's wearing makes it hard to move, his body is restricted, tied and held in place, the tie around his neck is secured tightly, almost taking his breath away and suffocating him.

He runs a hand through his styled hair, trying to take in a deep breath, his eyes are fixed on the road, everything looks so tiny from up where he's standing, so insignificant and temporary in time. All the people walking around look like ants, cars look like toys he played with when he was a child, it's a hazy cloud of everything and nothing, moving too fast to make sense of it.

Melancholy lingers in the air, together with the smell of a thunderstorm brewing in the distant dark sky, and he lifts his head up, his hand in his pocket.

Hyunjin fishes out a pack of cigarettes, a damned habit he picked up on after hanging out in many fancy clubs with many fancy people whose noses are white, whose smiles are crooked, whose eyes are dull and hearts tainted.

He curses under his breath, realizing that he had no lighter with him, after all, he didn't smoke daily, it was just a rare occurrence to blow off steam, just an excuse to disappear from the stifling crowd, the loud voices and the unnecessary questions he answered a hundred times before.

Footsteps approach him, the moment is broken and his manager appears by his side.

"Looking for this?"- Charlie reaches his zippo to Hyunjin.

"Sure."- Hyunjin's voice is almost inaudible.

"Those'll kill you, you know."- Charlie says, a sympathetic smile on his face.

Hyunjin lights up the cigarette, the quiet crackling sound loud in the space between them as he inhales, his lungs filling with the poison, and his brain filling with fake relief.

"You smoke more than me."- the smoke puffs out like a cloud as Hyunjin talks, eyeing the zippo in his hand, an airplane engraved into it.

"You look ugly when you smoke."- Charlie teases and Hyunjin lets out a chuckle as his manager takes out a cig.

He reaches his hand towards Hyunjin's and he rests the old zippo in his open palm, the thought of teasing his manager only shortly passing through his mind.

Charlie has always had an unhealthy obsession with airplanes and collecting old things, so Hyunjin knew that if he even tried to joke with the lighter, his manager would freak out.

"Why so gloomy? This is the biggest show you've ever hosted. Specifically in your own gallery."- Charlie lets the smoke fizz out as Hyunjin stares off into the distance, the quiet breeze swirling the smoke around, drawing patterns in the dark that surrounds them.

"It is, isn't it?"- Hyunjin nods, watching the ashes flicker around as he taps his cigarette, some of it ending on his perfect suit, staining the expensive material.

"Yeah, we made a lot of money. There are so many interested buyers too, so we're bound to make even more."- Charlie smirks before taking a drag.

Money. It all comes back to the stupid paper that holds more significance than anything else in this world. It's the ruler of everything and everyone, and the more you have it, the more you want.

You become insatiable, one more expensive suit, one more pair of leather shoes, a new couch because why not, a new car that's not even on the market yet because you get exclusive everything.

Complete emptiness. That's all that it is, a void that keeps growing with more stuff you get.

Nothing you buy will ever be enough to fill up the ever growing black hole, everything just gets sucked into it and you're left feeling like you have nothing at all.

That's all Charlie ever talks about, except airplaines. It's all Hyunjin has come to know.

He drowns in so many rare and expensive things, but still what he wants to grasp onto isn't tangible to him.

"Sounds perfect."- Hyunjin's voice comes out flat.

"It is perfect! So, lighten up! We made so. much. cash."- Charlie emphasizes. "We need to celebrate."- he adds, smirking as he sticks his hand into the pocket of his jacket and brings out a little baggy of white powder, waving it in front of Hyunjin's face.

"I'll pass."- he says shortly and Charlie scoffs incredulously.

"What is with the sour attitude, my friend?"- he runs his hand through his curly hair. "You're being ungrateful. There are people who have so much influence here tonight and they're gonna want to meet the star of the show, the one and only Hwang Hyunjin. So you better get your fucking shit together."- Charlie flicks his cigarette as his voice gets deeper and the look in his eyes becomes menacing, before he leaves Hyunjin standing on the balcony.

The storm moves closer, Hyunjin looks down, a flicker of something lights up deep inside him, he stares down as his heart races, he wants to scream and fly. Intrusive thoughts fill his head up and he turns on his heel abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back into the gallery.

It's already 4 am when Hyunjin stumbles into his apartment, some nameless girl giggling behind him. She probably thinks she knows everything about Hyunjin, which academy he went to, what he loved to paint the most, what was his biggest inspiration, when he had his first show.

This was the night of her life.

To Hyunjin, she was just another instrument to play with, something to pass the time and fill the empty space of his king sized bed, at least for one night.

To feel something. He wishes he could feel something.

She will never forget this but he already forgot her name.

Another baggy is opened, white powder spread on the glass table, Hyunjin's credit card used to make four perfect little lines, two for each of them.

The girl giggles and leans over, snorting two lines in as she moans in delight, her eyes rolling back.

Hyunjin mirrors her actions, scrunching up his nose, despise written on his face at the burning feeling in his nostrils and the dull ache behind his eyes.

How did he get to this?

He doesn't care right now, thoughts erased in his high mind as the girl starts touching on him, nimble fingers coming up to untie his tie.

He doesn't resist, lets her undress him as she kisses his neck, his hands are splayed on her tiny waist, she must be a model.

She's probably beautiful but even that doesn't mean anything to Hyunjin, not when he looks at her, kisses her or lays her under him.

He doesn't see her, he looks through her, chasing his high as quickly as he can, his fingers working on her sensitive bundle of nerves just so she doesn't talk shit later that he didn't know how to please her.

With a loud moan of his name that makes his stomach recoil, she cums around him and he spills into the condom, his hand gripping at the sheet next to her head.

Here comes the worst part. She'll want to cuddle. She'll stay the night. She'll probably yell and slap him in the morning when he tells her to get lost.

He'll say something douchy like 'you should feel honored I fucked you' just to get her off his case.

And he won't feel a thing.

"What the hell do you mean, you're leaving?!"- Charlie yells desperately, as Hyunjin sits, tapping his foot against the carpeted floor of his manager's office.

Charlie stands up angrily, the leather chair he was sitting in, creaking and spinning a little.

"I'm leaving, Charlie. I need to leave. I need a break. I can't do this anymore. I don't even know who I am and why I'm doing this anymore. I don't know what to paint anymore and I don't even fucking care right now. I despise painting and art! I fucking despise all of this!"- Hyunjin's suppressed anger and despair starts bubbling up as he stands up.

"Save your sob story, Hyunjin. This isn't just about you. Other people depend on how much you sell and how much your produce. You can't just up and leave everything when you feel like it. People will-"

"I don't fucking care about people! And I'm making it about me. It's about me, for once. If you want me to be fruitful and bring you money so badly, you need to let me take a fucking break."- Hyunjin seethes.

Charlie pinches the bridge of his nose.

"How long?"

"However long I need."

"Fine. Whatever, Hyunjin. I will keep selling the pieces from the last show. They will sell out quickly, just a reminder. You'll need to do something new by then."

"Fine."

Hyunjin leaves the office, his heart beating fast inside his chest as he speeds off faster and faster, away from the gray buildings, away from the tainted hearts, away from the empty fucking void, threatening to suck in his entire existence.

Returning to his cold apartment, Hyunjin packs a suitcase, leaves a note for the cleaning lady, and throws one last look around his modern apartment, his eyes stop on the looming city skyscrapers outside.

No colors could ever illuminate the deep-seated depression of the big city.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @nchhuhi @1810cl

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey sex witch. I’ve never done anything below the belt with another person and I didn’t have very good sex ed growing up, so I’m not sure if this is abnormal or not. I’m a light-skinned poc and there are areas on the creases of my labia minora that are darker than others. I tried to google this to see if it was an issue but google just kept trying to tell me that I have cancer. It doesn’t look like a skin condition or anything, it’s just that the skin color is inconsistent. I know that porn isn’t very realistic, but that’s the only time I’ve ever seen another person’s genitals and the people in porn always have unicolor vaginas. Sorry if this is stupid or tmi, but I don’t go to a gynecologist or anything, I’m too embarrassed to ask my friends, and I’m twenty so I feel like I’m too old to go to my mom with this sort of question.

hi anon,

that's totally normal!

as is often the case, porn is a poor substitute for real life. most people's genitals and nipples get a little darker and more visible during puberty, and may be a range of colors. it's perfectly natural, in same way that it's completely normal for your skin to be darker or lighter on other parts of your body. almost nothing about human bodies is uniform, and that includes our coloration!

if you'd like some points of comparison outside of porn, with a variety of different features, you might want to check out the Labia Library, which features photographs of a many different labias up close and personal in all their glory:

[luvdwkki]

Hyunjin - Through the lens

Hyunjin x Gn!reader

Word count: 11.3k

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a photographer, finds solace and inspiration in a picturesque village that soon becomes the heart of his world. Back in Seoul, unsettling discoveries make him question the reality of what he experienced.

Hyunjin hadn’t touched his camera in weeks. It sat at the edge of his desk, a thin layer of dust settling over its worn leather strap and gleaming glass lens. He used to not be able to go a full day without taking a photo, but now, every attempt felt flat and uninspired. Frustration gnawed at him. He couldn’t understand why this fog of creative emptiness had descended on him, and the lack of answers only deepened his unease. 

Determined to break free of it, Hyunjin tore through his room, rummaging through old photo albums and drawers, hunting for a spark or some long lost reminder of the passion he used to feel. Among the clutter, he stumbled upon a small photograph. Its edges had yellowed, and the colours had faded with time, but he recognised it instantly. It had been a gift from an elderly photographer he’d met at a gallery a couple years ago when Hyunjin was still fresh-faced and hungry for experience. Back then, the man had told him, “Whenever you get lost or need to feel free again, go here. This place has a tendency to make people feel found.’

Hyunjin held the photo up to the light, studying it. The picture was of a quaint town nestled away from the world, its cobbled streets winding between colourful houses with flowers spilling from every windowsill. The town looked quiet, untouched by time, like it had secrets only a few had ever learned. Just looking at it stirred something inside him, a faint echo of the thrill he used to feel when he picked up his camera. He knew he couldn't ignore it. If he didn’t act now, he feared he would lose his love for photography forever. 

Impulsively, he packed a small bag, tossing in essentials alongside his once beloved camera. Within hours, he was on a plane, his heart pounded with a nervous excitement he hadn’t felt in years. The flight was long, but he didn't mind. He gazed out of the window, watching clouds drift by as he imagined what awaited him in that town. It wasn’t just a place he was flying to; it was a glimmer of hope. 

When he landed, he took a winding bus ride through rolling hills and forests, the road twisting and turning until he could finally see the town appearing below in the soft glow of dusk. By the time he reached the tiny motel, the sun had set, and the town was bathed in the warm, golden light of street lamps and shop signs. Exhausted but content, he checked in and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. The promise of a new beginning easing him into a dream. 

The next morning, he woke up with the sun streaming through the thin blinds, filling his room with a gentle warmth. After a quick breakfast at a small cafe nearby, he slung his camera over his shoulder and set off to explore. The town was just as enchanting as the photo had promised. Narrow streets wound through rows of brightly painted houses, flower boxes bursting with colour at every turn. Market stalls lined the main square, selling fresh produce, handmade crafts, and little trinkets that caught the light. 

Hyunjin didn’t reach for his camera right away. Instead, he let himself get lost in the rhythm of the town, feeling the cobblestone beneath his feet and inhaling the scents of blooming flowers and fresh bread. He stopped to chat with the locals, even sharing a laugh with an old man who teased him about his tourist’s curiosity. As the day wore on, he took a few photos. Portraits of shopkeepers, a child chasing a cat down an alley, the vibrant colours of the market stalls, but the inspiration he sought still eluded him. 

Returning to his motel that evening, Hyunjin felt a strange sense of peace. While he hadn’t yet rekindled his creative fire, he felt lighter and more hopeful than he had in weeks. He fell asleep wondering what tomorrow would bring, feeling closer to rediscovering himself with every step he took in this little town that seemed to wait patiently for him to find his way back to his art. 

On his third day in town, Hyunjin decided to explore the outskirts, hoping the untouched landscape might stir the inspiration he’d been searching for. He spent a couple of hours wandering narrow trails that led through groves of trees and open meadows, his camera swinging idly by his side, waiting for the right moment. Still, no shot felt right. Nothing seemed to spark the connection he craved. 

Then, as he walked along the shaded path, he came upon a willow tree standing beside a large, serene pond. Its long, wispy branches cascaded towards the water, swaying gently in the breeze. It was peaceful, a place seemingly untouched by time, and Hyunjin decided it would be a perfect spot to take a break. As he approached the tree, he noticed he was not alone. 

You were seated beneath the large tree on a neatly laid blanket, your figure partially hidden by the hanging branches. You looked deep in thought, your gaze fixed on the still waters of the pond, your hair flowing in soft waves, being lifted slightly by the breeze. There was a quiet grace about you, an unspoken depth that intrigued him. Hyunjin felt his breath catch. There was something so captivating about your solitude – the way you seemed to blend with the landscape as if you belonged there more than any human ever could. 

Without much thought, he lifted his camera, adjusting the focus to capture your presence within the tranquil setting. But just as he pressed the shutter, the sound of the camera echoed louder than expected. Your head turned sharply in his direction, your eyes wide with surprise. 

Hyunjin quickly lowered his camera, his face flushing as he stammered, “I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to startle you. I just… couldn't miss the perfect shot.” 

A small smile played on your lips, the surprise fading from your expression. “It’s okay,” you replied, glancing back towards the water with a soft chuckle. “I guess I was just lost in thought.” 

He couldn't help but notice the way you spoke, your voice gentle but clear, each word carrying a quiet warmth. For a moment, Hyunjin found himself lost again, this time in your calm presence. He felt an urge to know you, to understand the stories behind your serene expression. 

“Im Hyunjin,” his voice was hesitant yet hopeful, as if fearing he might break the delicate spell between you. 

You turned back to him, your voice widening slightly. “Nice to meet you, Hyunjin.” Your tone was light but kind, and there was a spark in your gaze that made his heart race unexpectedly.

For a moment, silence settled between you, filled only by the whisper of a breeze rustling the willow leaves. Trying to fill the space, he asked, “So, what brings you out here all alone?” 

You looked back at the water, a hint of something reflective in your eyes. “I just needed a little air,” you said softly. “It’s peaceful here… gives me room to think.” 

You paused, then glanced at the empty spot beside you. “Would you like to sit?” a slight curiosity in your tone. 

Hyunjin nodded quickly, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and sat down beside you, careful not to disturb the tranquillity of your small space. He could still feel the lingering embarrassment from earlier but was relieved that you didn’t seem bothered. You turned to him, the warmth of your smile easing his nerves. 

“So what brings you to this town?” you asked, your eyes alight with genuine interest. 

Hyunjin hesitated for a moment before sharing the story of his recent struggle with his art, the way he’d felt lost and disconnected until he’d found the photograph that had brought him here. You listened intently, nodding at each turn, your expression one of understanding that made him feel oddly comforted. 

When he finished, he asked, “And what about you? Do you come here often?” 

“I grew up here,” you said with a fondness lacing your words. “This place is part of me. It’s home, even when I need to step away from it. I guess you could say it keeps me floating.” 

You both continued to talk as the minutes slipped by, sharing small pieces of your lives. With each word, Hyunjin felt himself becoming more and more captivated by you. It wasn’t just your words but the way you held yourself, the quiet strength and calmness that seemed to radiate from you. 

Eventually, you glanced at the sky, a reluctant look crossing your face. “I should probably head off now,” you said, standing up and dusting off your blanket. 

Hyunjin felt a strange pang as you packed up your things, an emptiness he hadn’t anticipated. He realised he didn’t even know your name, yet he felt as if he’d known you for far longer than these few minutes. He wanted to ask you to stay, or to at least meet again, but the words caught in his throat. 

With one last smile, you looked at him. “It was nice meeting you, Hyunjin,” you said softly before turning to walk away, leaving him under the willow tree with only the photo of you and the quiet ripples of the pond. 

As he watched you go, Hyunjin felt something inside him shift. This peaceful place had reignited something he thought he’d lost. For the first time in a long while, he lifted his camera again, capturing the scene as if to hold onto the moment forever. 

Hyunjin returned to the town that evening, trying to take more photos of the colourful marketplace and the winding streets. Yet no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his surroundings, he couldn't get you out of his mind. The memory of your gentle smile or your thoughtful gaze on the pond–you lingered in his thoughts like a haunting melody. As the evening shadows stretched off the cobbled paths, Hyunjin resigned himself to the quiet of his motel room, though sleep came slowly, the image of you at the willow tree etched vividly in his mind. 

The next day, he rose early and wandered the town again, hoping to recapture the inspiration he felt slipping through his fingers. As he meandered through the bustling plaza, weaving between vendors setting up their vibrant wares, he saw you. You were strolling near the far edge of the square, a woven basket hanging from your arms. Before he could even think, his legs carried him forward. Your eyes widened with surprise when you saw him, followed by a delighted smile. 

“You again,” you teased, your eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“Yeah, I… well, I couldn’t leave without another photo,” he replied, his voice uncertain but sincere. You laughed, and he felt the last traces of his nervousness melt away. 

“Well then, come on,” you said, gesturing for him to walk with you. You left the bustling plaza and wandered into the countryside beyond the town, a quiet path that opened up to a vast expanse of wildflower fields stretching out in every direction. The flowers were in full bloom, petals painting the landscape in rich hues of lavender, gold, and crimson. Hyunjin could smell their faint, sweet perfume in the air. The trail found its way through the field, and soon you arrived at a gentle stream where wild grasses leaned over the water’s edge. 

“Spring is special here,” you murmured, motioning to the lively stream, where tiny fish darted beneath the surface and dragonflies skimmed over the water. “It wakes everything up.” 

Hyunjin nodded, taking in every word, though he found himself more captivated by your voice than the scene you were describing. You pointed out small animals hidden among the reeds, such as a small family of ducks waddling near the shore, or the heron standing gracefully on one leg. He just studied you, noticing the way your face lit up with each new sight. 

“Do you know much about them?” you asked suddenly, your question breaking him out of his trance. 

Hyunjin realised he’d barely listened, too lost in watching you. You tilted your head, giving him a curious look, and he felt his face flush. He quickly nodded, managing a quiet “Mhm…” 

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, but you let it slide, continuing your stories of the stream’s wildlife as you walked. You seemed to know every detail of the land, from the tiniest insects to the habits of the foxes that visited at dusk. Hyunjin listened, caught between fascination with your words and the growing warmth he felt in your presence. 

After a while, his stomach growled softly, causing him to laugh in embarrassment. “I guess I should've packed a lunch.” 

You gave him a playful look before opening your basket and pulling out two neatly wrapped sandwiches, handing one to him with a smile. “Lucky for you, I came prepared.” 

You found a low tree with sturdy branches, and quickly climbed onto one with ease, patting the spot beside you. Hyunjin joined you, unwrapping the sandwich as you sat there, legs swinging like carefree children. You ate in a comfortable silence, surrounded by the soft murmur of the stream and the hum of distant wildlife. 

Once you had finished eating, you lingered on the branch, talking about the town and sharing stories and memories of your lives. He learnt that you spent most afternoons in the fields, seeking out little pockets of peace away from the noise of the town. You described how the landscape transformed with each season, your eyes lighting up with each memory you shared. As you spoke, he felt himself drawn more and more into your world, sensing the way you saw beauty in the smallest things. 

The hours slipped by until, eventually, you both realised you should head back. You hopped off the branch, brushing loose bark from your pants, and he followed you down the winding paths leading towards town. You walked slowly, the conversation more thoughtful now, until you finally reached the familiar streets. 

As you parted ways, Hyunjin felt a sense of reluctance, wishing he had a reason to keep walking with you, just a bit longer. But with one last wave and a smile, you disappeared into the busy street, leaving him with a strange ache in his chest and a new kind of inspiration stirring within him. 

For the first time in a while, Hyunjin felt the urge to capture more than just a photograph; he wanted to capture a feeling, a memory that would linger long after he’d left this place. 

The next morning, Hyunjin was up early, determined to find you again. He wandered through the village’s winding streets, scanning each corner and side street, hoping for a glimpse of your familiar figure. He checked the plaza, the cafe, even the quiet paths by the outskirts, but you were nowhere to be found. The entire day passed in a blur as he thought of little else, his mind replaying every word and expression, every smile and laugh that you had shared. That night he lay awake, formulating a plan — a way to spend more time with you — to capture this rare, exhilarating feeling and keep it alive as long as he could.

That night, sleep was elusive. His mind was a storm of excitement, anticipation, and a nervous energy that kept him awake well into the early hours. By the time he finally drifted off, the sky was already beginning to show its rosy hues. 

The next morning, he woke up in a panic, immediately glancing at the clock. He’d overslept, and by the time he left his room, the village was already alive with activity. He strolled through the narrow streets, feeling disappointed and convinced he might have missed his chance. But as he wandered past the plaza, a familiar figure caught his eye. You were sitting by the fountain in the middle of the square, your head bowed slightly as you stared at the water, lost in thought.

A smile broke across his face as he watched you, your figure bathed in the soft glow of midday sun, and he couldn’t resist capturing the moment. Without a second thought, he lifted his camera, capturing your profile as you sat quietly, unaware of his presence. There was something in your stillness, an elegance that he couldn’t quite put into words but felt compelled to preserve in the frame. After a few shots, he put the camera down and made his way over, tapping your shoulder gently. 

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, feigning a casual air as though he were a stranger passing by. 

You looked up, surprised but pleased, your smile warm as you gestured to the spot beside you. “Of course,” you said, shifting slightly to make room for him. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, each lost in your own thoughts. The sounds of the town filled the air. Children laughing, merchants calling out their wares, the soft splash of the fountain’s water. 

Eventually, you broke the silence, your voice thoughtful. “It’s funny, isn't it? How the town feels so alice in spring, but in winter, it almost seems… frozen in time.” 

Hyunjin nodded, sensing there was more you wanted to share. Your eyes lingered on the fountain, and there was a wistfulness to your gaze. 

“I love it here,” you continued. “It’s my home, and it always will be. But sometimes… I wonder what else is out there.” Your words hung in the air, and Hyunjin could hear the faintest edge of sadness to your tone. “You're lucky,” you added, glancing at him. “You get to see so much of the world. I’m…well, I'm just here.”

Your honesty surprised him. He had assumed you were content with your quiet life, rooted in this picturesque town. But there you were, longing for places you had never seen, paths you had never walked. He tried to reassure you, saying “It’s not too late. You could leave, too.” 

You shook your head slowly, a bittersweet smile spreading across your lips. “No, I couldn’t. This is where I belong. I don't think I know how to leave, even if I wanted to.” 

Hearing the resignation in your voice stirred something in Hyunjin. You seemed bound to this place, your roots deep in the soil of your home, yet your heart ached for something more. He sensed a longing to share with you a glimpse of the beauty he had seen in the world. Impulsively, he reached for your hand, his fingers curling gently around yours. Your gaze lifted in surprise, but you didn’t pull away; your eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and trust. 

“Come with me,” he said, a newfound confidence lending strength to his words. Without another word, he guided you away from the plaza, through the narrow streets and out towards the edge of town. 

You walked in a companionable silence along a hidden trail he’d discovered through a conversation with a local. He led you up a small incline, past dense trees and flowering shrubs, your hand warm in his as you journeyed through the soft underbrush. After a short but winding trek, you emerged into a secluded clearing. Before you laid a waterfall, cascading down smooth rocks into a clear pool below, its waters glinting in the afternoon sunlight. 

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight, a breathless smile spreading across your face. “I’ve lived here my whole life,” you murmured, “But I had no idea this was here.” 

Hyunjin watched you, captivated by your awe. You seemed to radiate with the same beauty as the scene around you, and for a moment, he felt as if he were seeing you for the first time. The sun casted a golden glow over you, illuminating the spark in your eyes and the subtle curve of your lips as you looked around in wonder. To him, you were the most beautiful part of the entire landscape.

You wandered closer to the water’s edge, laughing softly as you spotted a group of butterflies fluttering nearby. You crouched down, extending your hand as one of them landed gently on your fingertip. Hyunjin had no choice but to lift his camera, capturing your delicate smile and the sunlit waterfall shimmering behind you. He couldn’t help but take a few more photos, capturing your wonder and delight. Each slot felt like a small treasure, a memory he wanted to keep alive forever.

You wandered around the waterfall, watching the small creatures that made their homes there— a white rabbit sprinting into the bushes, a red squirrel darting up a tree, tiny birds fluttering their wings between branches. But Hyunjin could hardly focus on any of it. His gaze kept drifting back to you. 

Finally, you sat by the water’s edge, side by side, your shoulders nearly touching. The sound of the rushing water filled the air, but between you, there was a comfortable silence. You turned to him, a grateful smile on your lips, and he felt the weight of your gaze like a warmth that reached straight to his heart. 

“Thank you.” You said softly, your voice filled with an emotion he couldn't quite place. 

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm shine over the clearing, you made your way back to the town. Hand in hand, you walked together, Hyunjin feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. As you reached the village, he realised that this little corner of the world held something far greater than he'd ever expected. 

The evening air was tinged with the faint aroma of blooming flowers as you both lingered, just for a moment, beneath the soft glow of the streetlamp. You looked at him, your gaze steady and warm. “Meet me at the stream tomorrow around 11,” you said with a small smile, your voice carrying a hint of mystery. With one last glance, you turned to walk down the cobblestone road, leaving Hyunjin standing there, heart fluttering in his chest. 

That night, sleep evaded him. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the way you looked at him, the softness of your voice, the invitation in your words. Every thought of you filled his chest in a quiet happiness, and by the time he finally drifted off, his mind was full with dreams of the stream and the promise of seeing you again. 

He woke up at dawn, hours too early, unable to keep himself from the thrill of the day ahead. He got dressed slowly, choosing his clothes with great care, and ate a small breakfast to settle his nerves. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to 11, he set off, feeling the warm rays of sun on his back as he walked through the wildflower fields towards the stream. 

When he reached the water’s edge, his heart sank. The gentle trickle of the stream was the only sound to be heard, and you were nowhere to be seen. He kept glancing around, his excitement quickly fading into disappointment. Just as he was about to turn around, he noticed a figure across the stream, lying on a soft patch of grass, gazing up at the pearly white clouds.

It was you. 

You laid sprawled out on the grass, one arm behind your head and the other resting across your stomach. Your eyes were closed and your face was relaxed, your expression almost serene. The sunlight cast a golden glow across your skin, and you looked as if you were part of the landscape itself, a piece of this quiet paradise. Hyunjin’s hand rushed to his camera, lifting it to his eye, capturing you from afar, framing the curve of your face, the peacefulness in your expression, the way the soft light danced around you. He took a few quiet shots, smiling as he lowered the camera, unable to tear his eyes away from you. 

There was something about you… a presence, a quiet strength, a beauty that felt otherworldly. Each day you spent together drew him further into your orbit, and he found himself marvelling at how effortlessly you seemed to capture his every thought. 

Realising he’d have to cross the stream to join you, he looked down at the wide body of water separating them, assessing his options. The rocks looked slippery, and the stream was deceptively deep in some parts. He considered looking for a branch or some sort of makeshift bridge, half-laughing at the lengths he was willing to go just to avoid wet feet. 

He was mid-search, crouched over a pile of sticks when he heard a soft laugh. Looking up, he saw you gazing back at him from across the stream, a curious smile tugging at your lips. 

“Need some help there?” you called out, amusement clear in your voice. A blush crept across his cheeks as he straightened, giving you an embarrassed smile. 

“Just… planning my route,” he replied, sheepish. 

You stood up, brushing bits of grass from your legs and waded into the stream without hesitation. The water lapped at your bare ankles as you moved towards him, your shorts rolled up just above your knees, your steps sure and graceful. The sound of the water splashing softly around you filled the air, and Hyunjin watched, momentarily mesmerised as you approached him. 

“Scared to get wet?” you teased, stopping just a few feet away, your eyes twinkling with mischief. 

He chuckled, quickly recovering. “No, just trying to protect the camera,” he said, lifting it slightly as though to defend his excuse. “Can't risk it getting wet.” 

You raised an eyebrow, stepping even closer, until your face was mere centimetres from his, your gaze looked onto his. Hyunjin felt his heart stutter, his pulse racing as he met your eyes. Your face was so close, he could feel your breath, warm against his skin, your expression full of intent. 

In one swift motion, you reached out, snatching the camera from his hands, and darted back across the stream, genuine laughter spilling from your lips. Hyunjin stood frozen in surprise, watching as you reached the other side, grinning triumphantly as you held the camera aloft. 

“Hey!” he called, his voice tinged with laughter. You flashed him a mischievous smile, the sun catching the glint of your eyes. 

“Should’ve just worn shorts like me!” you shouted back, waving the camera. Your laughter was harmonious, and Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile, feeling his heart swell with affection. 

With a sigh of playful defeat, he set his shoes and socks aside, rolling up the bottom of his jeans to his knees. Tentatively, he stepped into the stream, the water frigid yet refreshing against his skin. You watched him from your side of the bank, your laughter softening as he made his way across.

He took slow, tentative steps into the stream, eyes focused on the rocks beneath him as he playfully navigated the water, each step cautious to avoid slipping. The cool stream tickled his ankles, and he winced as the water seeped higher, inching towards the rolled-up hem of his jeans. You watched him with a smile, setting his camera safely on a dry patch of grass away from the water before coming to his side. 

“It's really not that cold,” you said, giving him an encouraging smile as you knelt down to scoop up a handful of water, letting it trickle through your fingers. 

He nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, it's nothing,” he replied, though the water’s chill was starting to make him shiver slightly. 

You looked at him with a delinquent glint in your eye. “What's that?” you asked, your gaze fixed on something just over his shoulder. 

He glanced back instinctively, only to feel a sudden splash of icy water against his back. The shock jolted him, and he straightened with a gasp, feeling the cold seep through his shirt as a gasp escaped your lips. Slowly, he turned back to face you, and there you were, grinning widely, your eyes dancing with pure mischief. 

He genuinely felt like his heart might burst as he looked at you, the playful glint in your eyes making him smile despite the chill running down his spine. You didn’t waste a second before gathering another handful of water, tossing it at him with a delighted laugh. 

“Oh, it's on.” He laughed as he kicked his leg, sending a wide spray of water your way, drenching you in a sudden wave. You shrieked, laughing as the water splashed over you, soaking the front of your shirt and sending your hair tumbling in wet waves over your head. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of your delighted squeals filling the air around you. 

You weren’t about to let him with that easily, though. Bracing yourself, you used your foot to send another splash in his direction, water arching towards him as he lifted his hands in mock defence. Before you could gather more water, he lunged forward, closing the distance between the two of you in an instant. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lifted you off the ground, spinning playfully as you smiled, your laughter ringing out in joyous peals that echoed across the stream. 

He carried you into the middle of the stream, your laughter mixing with the bubbling of the water and the gentle rustling of leaves overhead. You kicked playfully, your arms wrapping around his neck as he finally set you down, your faces close as you both struggled to catch your breath between giggles. 

Just as he let you go, your foot slipped on a wet rock, and with a yelp, you fell back, splashing down into the shallow water, your arms flailing as you tried — and failed — to steady yourself. You landed with a splash, your clothes soaked, and for a split second, the laughter stopped. Hyunjin froze, watching you with wide eyes, worry etched across his face. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand immediately extended towards you, concern evident in his eyes. 

A wicked smile spread across your face as you took his hand, your grip firm as you tugged him down towards you with surprising strength. Before he could react, he was tumbling forward, splashing down beside you in the cool water. For a moment, he was stunned, the cold soaking through his clothes as you burst in laughter, your face alight with pure joy. He joined in, the laughter ringing through the clearing as you began splashing each other with abandon, the water flying as you playfully fought your way across the shallow stream. 

Minutes passed, all the laughter echoing in quiet solitude around you. Eventually, as your energy waned, you waded back to the grassy patch near the water's edge, both of you soaked to the skin, hair dripping as you flopped down onto the sunlit grass, lying side by side, gazing up at the sky. 

The warm sun beat down on you, drying your clothes slowly as you lay there, side by side, watching the fluffy clouds drift lazily across the sky. You exchanged stories, small secrets, and laughter as the sun climbed higher, casting its warmth over you. Together, you spoke of dreams and favourite memories, of fears and the quiet hopes you held close to your heart. You told him about growing up in the village, the little joys and the familiar rhythm of life there, while he shared stories of his travels, the places he’d been to and the adventures he’d had. 

As the afternoon sun reached its peak, Hyunjin felt an overwhelming sense of peace settle over him. Lying there on the grass, side by side, with no rush and no expectations, you simply enjoyed each other’s presence, as though the world beyond the stream had faded away, leaving only the two of you and this perfect, sunlit moment. 

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in an array of deep purples and warm oranges that stretched like watercolour strokes across the landscape. Hyunjin’s camera clicked rhythmically, capturing the last golden rays as you two bathed the town in a soft, dreamlike glow. He paused for a moment, turning his lens towards you as you stood by the edge of the path, your hair catching the evening breeze. You looked beautiful, framed by the colours of twilight, and he couldn’t resist reserving that fleeting beauty. 

As you made your way back into town, the gentle hum of the evening settled around you two. Streetlights began to flicker to life, their warm glow casting dancing shadows across the rocky streets. The town bustled with soft laughter and the chanter of people heading home, mingling with the faint melodies of a street musician strumming an old guitar. 

Hyunjin glanced at you, an unspoken question shimmering in his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to sound casual. “Would you stay with me tonight? We could watch the stars together and talk until morning.” 

You paused, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A hint of regret flickered across your expression, and you gave him a gentle smile. “I can’t tonight, Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a quiet sadness. 

A brief pang of disappointment bloomed in Hyunjin’s chest, but he quickly swallowed it down, curving his lips into an understanding smile. “That's okay,” he replied, his tone light. “Maybe another time.” 

You walked side by side through the town, the comfortable conversation between you being punctuated by the distant hoot of an owl and the rustling of leaves. Hyunjin’s heart ached a little; the desire to be closer, to cross that invisible line between friendship and something more was gnawing at him. Yet he pushed that feeling aside, content to be simply near you. 

The following days passed in a blue of laughter and shared moments that felt suspended in time. Together, you explored every nook and cranny of the village, from the bustling market where you sampled sweet pastries and admired handcrafted trinkets to the quiet meadow behind the old church where life bloomed in a riot of colour. The air between you cracked with a subtle electronic tension — each accidental touch and shared glance heavy with meaning. 

One afternoon, you tugged at his sleeve, a playful grin lighting up your face. “Come with me,” you said, excitement sparkling in your eyes. You led him through narrow, winding roads to a small, stone fronted bakery tucked between two larger shops. The scent of fresh bread and sugar wafted out to greet you, warm and inviting. 

“This is where I work,” you said, your voice brimming with pride. Hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise as you pushed open the wooden door, ushering him inside. The bakery was cosy, large shelves lined with golden loaves, pastries glazed with sugar, and cakes that looked almost too beautiful to eat. 

“Choose anything you like,” you said, slipping behind the counter, grabbing tongs before staring back at him. His heart swelled at the sight of you, framed by the warm glow of the bakery, the soft light catching in your eyes. 

He pointed to a delicate looking pastry, making you chuckle. “Good choice,” you said, handing it to him with a wink. You sat at a small table in the corner, sharing bites and trading sentences as the afternoon filtered through the windows, casting golden patches across your faces. 

The moment felt perfect — simple, sweet, and filled with an unspoken connection that made Hyunjin’s pulse quicker. As you laughed and talked, surrounded by the comforting scent of baked goods, he felt the romantic tension between the two of you deepen, like a song waiting for its crescendo. 

Every evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the village in warm hues, Hyunjin would pull out his camera, capturing the moments that made up these perfect days. But no photograph could capture the way his chest tightened when you laughed or the quiet longing that settled between you as you walked through the lit streets. 

Your days were filled with joy, yet the feelings hung between you like an unsaid promise, waiting for the right moment to be spoken aloud. 

Hyunjin could feel the weight of impending departure pressing on his chest, a dull ache that grew with each passing hour. The small town, once just a place on a map, had become a part of him, woven with memories that, at this moment, felt bittersweet. It wasn’t just the winding streets or the sun kissed fields that made leaving so hard — it was you. The one who had turned his days into something extraordinary. He wished, with silent desperation, that time would stop, but no amount of hoping could change the inevitably of his departure. 

The morning of his last day arrived, a cruel uncertainty settling over him like a shadow. He kept the knowledge buried deep, unwilling to burden you with the same weight that made his heart heavy. He moved through the hours as if in a dream, visiting familiar places and capturing their essence through the lens of his camera, but none of it brought him the comfort it once did. 

As the sun began its leisurely descent, casting the sky in the hues of amber that rose that he had gotten to know so well, Hyunjin made his way to the bakery. The bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside, and there you were, apron dusted with flour, a smudge on your cheek that made him smile despite the lump forming in his throat. You looked up, your eyes brightening as they found him, unaware of the storm brewing behind his steady gaze. 

“Ready to go?” you asked, untying your apron and setting it aside. The warmth in your voice and the way you looked at him as if he belonged there — it made everything harder. 

“Yeah,” he managed, his voice softer than usual. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked out into the golden light of the evening. 

You wandered down the familiar path that led to the willow tree, the leaves rustling in the soft breeze as if whispering their secrets. The pond mirrored the warm colours of the sky, it’s surface glistening with a gentle shimmer. It was where you had first met, where the story between you had begun, and now it seemed it would be where it came full circle. 

You settled into the roots of the tree, the quietness between you not uncomfortable but thick with meaning. The sun dipped lower, casting a halo of light that danced across the water. You leaned back, your eyes tracing the leaves as they drifted lazily, unaware of the truth he was about to speak. 

Hyunjin looked at you, the words tangled in his chest, each one sharp and aching. Finally, he let out a breath and said, “This is my last day here.” 

The silence that followed was different, sharp and brittle. You turned towards him, disbelief shadowing your expression. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” your voice trembled. 

He swallowed hard, searching your eyes and finding a mixture of hurt and confusion. “I didn’t want it to be real,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of it. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t come true.” 

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you brushed it away with an angry hand. “That’s not fair, Hyunjin,” you said, a sharp edge to your tone. “I deserved to know.” 

“I know,” he whispered, guilt lacing through him. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away, the movement breaking something inside him. “I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. 

“Well, you did,” the rawness in your voice matching the ache in your chest. The willow’s leaves swayed around you, casting dappled shadows that seemed to echo the heaviness of your conversation. 

A tear welled up in his eye, blurring his vision as he looked at you. “I don't want it to end like this. I care about you more than anything, and it’s tearing me apart to leave.” 

You stood up, the movement abrupt, your eyes blazing with a mixture of heartbreak and frustration. For a moment, Hyunjin feared you were going to walk away without another word. But then, you turned back to him, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, eyes glistening as you asked “Are you sure you care about me?” 

The question struck him like a physical blow. “Of course I care about you,” he replied, his voice low but urgent, filled with concern and confusion. “How could you even think–” 

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you interrupted, tears brimming your eyes, threatening to spill over. “Why did you keep this from me if I meant anything to you?” 

“Because I was scared,” he admitted, the words tumbling out, raw and exposed. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face! The one you're giving me now.” 

You laughed, a bitter and broken sound, and the tears finally escaped down your cheek. “And yet here we are,” you said, wiping your now wet face with a shaky hand. Your gaze dropped for a moment before coming back up, piercing him with its intensity. “You never even asked for my name, Hyunjin.”

His heart clenched, guilt twisting through him like a knife. “It’s not that I didnt care enough to ask,” he expressed, taking a step forward, trying to close the space between you. “It’s just… I felt like I already knew you. Like your name wasn’t just a word but something I already carried here.” He pressed his hand to his chest, eyes pleading with yours. “I was too afraid that asking would make it feel real, that acknowledging it would make me fall even harder, and then this —” he gestured helplessly between you two, the air crackling with unspoken words,”–- would hurt even more.” 

You turned, taking a few uneasy steps away from him, and he felt his chest tighten with panic. He reached out, grabbing your hand before you could move any further. The touch froze you in place, and though you didn’t turn, he could see your shoulders shaking as more tears fell. 

“Wait!” his voice cracked with emotion. “Please, just listen.” He drew in a breath, his throat tight, his heart pounding with a mix of desperation and raw honesty. “You have to know how much I care about you. I know the sound of your laugh, how it changes when something really makes you happy, and how you tilt your head just a bit when you’re really listening to someone. I know how your eyes catch the sunlight when you talk about your dreams and how your smile softens when you’re lost in thought.”

He took a shaky breath, trying to keep the surge of emotion in check. “I remember every time you tucked that stray piece of hair behind your ear, not knowing how much it made my heart race. I know the way your voice wavers when you’re about to admit something close to your heart, and the way you hold back tears even when you don’t need to be strong. I noticed the scent of freshly baked cookies that lingers on you from the bakery, the way your fingertips are dusted with flour when you’re in a rush.”

Tears welled up in his own eyes as he spoke, each word a step deeper into his vulnerable heart. “I know the way you pause to watch the sky as if you’re searching for something beyond the clouds and how your entire face lights up when you’re caught up in a story or memory. I know all these little things because every second with you, I’ve been memorising them, afraid I’d have to leave and forget even one.”

You stood frozen, tears now streaming down your cheeks as you absorbed the weight of his confession. He stepped closer, his voice trembling but resolute. “Leaving now feels like tearing away from everything that's made me feel alive for the first time in so long. I never asked for your name because I was terrified that knowing it would make it impossible to let go.” 

Your eyes softened, the wall of hurt between them crumbling under the weight of his words. Without saying a word, you took another step closer, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. All you could find was the unguarded truth, etched in every line of his expression. 

With a suddenness that made his heart stutter, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The first touch was tentative, almost hesitant, as if testing the fragile connection between you. Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat, and the world seemed to still, holding its breath around you. The taste of you was both familiar and sweet, a mix of warmth and the faintest hint of cinnamon from the bakery. 

As the initial shock melted away, he responded by deepening the kiss with a slow, careful intensity that spoke of every unspoken word and unfulfilled wish. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt as though it was the most delicate thing he’d ever touched. You leaned into him, your own hands trembling as they came to rest on his shoulders, holding on as if to anchor yourself in the moment. 

Time felt irrelevant; the cool breeze rustling the leaves above and the golden hues became a backdrop to the raw emotion between you. The kiss shifted from hesitant to certain, your lips moving together in a dance that spoke of longing, desperation, and a promise that defied the reality of your impending parting. It was a kiss filled with everything you hadn’t said, a final bridge between two hearts that had found each other by chance and were now bound by something neither could quite explain. 

When you finally broke apart, your faces lingered close, breaths mingling in the space between. Hyunjin’s eyes searched yours, finding them still wet with tears but now shining with a new depth of understanding. He reached up and gently wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on your skin. 

“You have no idea how much this moment means to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words seep into your heart before opening them again, your gaze tender but filled with the bittersweet truth that this moment, however perfect, might be your last for a long while. 

As your breath steadied and the weight of the moment settled, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that felt like it could seal the cracks of your heart. Hyunjin hugged you back, pulling you close as if he could imprint the memory of your warmth into his very being. You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the world around you fading into the background — the rustling of the leaves, the distant hum of the town — all a mere whisper compared to the quiet thrum of your shared heartbeat. 

When you finally pulled apart, it was with an unspoken understanding that the night was yours. Hyunjin gently took your hand, guiding you down to the soft grass beneath the willow tree. The moon had risen higher, casting the world in a dusky glow that seemed to embrace you in its shallow light. You lay side by side, your fingers brushing against each other as you stared up at the sky through the leaves, which now began to shimmer with its first hints of stars. 

A gentle breeze played with his hair, helping you smile softly when a strand ticked his nose. He turned his head to look at you, memorising the way your eyes crinkled at the corners and how the curve of your smile seemed to brighten even the coming night. 

“Remember when you tricked me into thinking there was a festival happening in the square, and it turned out to be just you with your basket full of pastries?” he asked, his tone light and the memory evoking a shared laugh. You nodded, eyes glistening with amusement. 

“You fell for it so easily! But it was worth it when you kept guessing what kind of pastries I'd brought,” you replied, the mirth in your voice softening as you continued, “I’d never seen anyone so happy over cinnamon rolls.” 

You talked about more moments like these — you showing him secret corners of the town where the wildflowers grow in vibrant clusters, or your afternoons spent by the stream tossing stones and sharing stories, and the impromptu dance in the rain that had left you soaked and laughing under the stormy sky. Each memory unfolded between you like chapters in a book, your voices mingling with the chirp of crickets as the sky turned from twilight to deep indigo, scattered with stars. 

“Why do these memories feel so big, so… heavy?” you asked, your voice barely above a winter as you turned to him. 

Hyunjin reached for your hand, your fingers intertwining as he looked at you with a tender smile. “Because they mean everything,” he said. “Every moment, no matter how small, it all matters.” 

Silence fell between you again, comfortable and profound. You laid there, hands clasped, eyes drifting from the sky above to the features of each other’s faces, illuminated by the soft starlight. The night air cooled, but neither of you rushed to go inside; you were content to stay, to hold on to every second of this final night, filling it with whispers, stolen glances, and the unspoken wish that time could somehow stand still. 

Hyunjin shifted slightly so that he could draw you even closer to him. The night air whispered through the leaves of the willow tree, but in each other's arms, you felt only warmth. You nestled into his chest, draping one leg over his, as if to anchor yourself to this moment that neither of you wanted to let slip away. Your bodies fit together naturally, the rise and fall of your chests synchronising like a silent conversation spoken only in heartbeats. 

With one arm wrapped securely under your head, Hyunjin lifted his other hand to gently trace the line of your jaw. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if committing each contour to memory. He tilted your face upward, your eyes meeting in a gaze that held everything. The stars above seemed to watch over you; their light pale in comparison to the spark that flickered between you. 

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft yet full of the intensity of leaving. It lingered, carrying the weight of the promises you wished you could make, the longing that neither voice. When you broke apart, he kept his eyes closed for a moment, savouring the feel of you so close, the taste of a dreadful goodbye. 

With a soft smile, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger as if to imprint the gesture into the space between them. You sighed contentedly, nuzzling further into his chest; the sound was like music to his ears — a melody he'd keep long after this night. 

You both settled back into the embrace, limbs entwined, and your bodies bolded together as if you were two halves of the same whole. The surrounding sounds faded into the gentle rustle of the leaves and the rhythmic murmur of your breathing. Your fingers traced light patterns on his chest as your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of the day finally overtaking you. 

Hyunjin felt your body relax, and he smiled as sleep began to claim him too. The last conscious thought he had was of the way you felt against him — safe, cherished, and heartbreakingly fleeting. He tightened his hold just slightly, as if to keep the dawn from stealing you away too soon, and then, with your hearts beating as one, together you drifted off into a sleep that felt both peaceful and poignant. 

The first rays of dawn filtered through the thin, whispering branches of the willow tree, casting a dappled golden glow across the ground. Hyunjin stirred, his eyes fluttering open as the memory of the night before settled like a bittersweet weight in his chest. The warmth that had cradled him as he slept was gone, replaced by the cool, empty space where you had been.

He sat up quickly, scanning the small clearing. The dew-damp grass was undisturbed, and there was no trace of you — not even the soft indentation where you had laid. A pang of loss shot through him, sharp and sudden, catching him off guard. His breath hitched as the realisation sank in: you had left.

The silence around him was deafening. The soft rustle of the leaves seemed almost mocking, a gentle reminder that the world moved on, indifferent to the ache that now gnawed at his heart. Hyunjin ran a hand through his tousled hair, the gesture rougher than intended, as if trying to shake the emptiness away. He wanted to believe that you’d left to spare you both the agony of goodbye, but it didn’t lessen the sting. If anything, it made it sharper, more personal.

Pushing himself to his feet, he glanced back at the willow tree, its long tendrils swaying gently as if bidding him farewell. The place that had held so much joy and hope now felt hollow, like an echo of what had been. He swallowed hard, a bitter taste in his mouth, before turning away and walking back toward the town.

The streets were already beginning to stir with early risers. The bakery was opening, the familiar scent wafting into the crisp morning air, but it brought no comfort as you weren’t there. Each step felt heavier as he approached the small motel where he’d been staying. It all seemed so mundane now, so void of the magic that had filled his days with you.

Packing his belongings was mechanical. The room that had once felt like a safe haven now felt suffocating. He stuffed his camera into his bag, careful not to let the precious film be jostled, each roll holding memories that were already starting to feel like dreams. His eyes stung, and he blinked quickly, unwilling to let the tears fall.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Hyunjin took one last look at the village, the place that had changed him in ways he hadn’t expected. Then, without a word, he walked to the bus stop, the weight of departure pressing down on him.

The journey back to Korea was a blur, punctuated only by the steady thrum of the plane’s engines and the hollow ache that seemed to grow with each passing mile. When he arrived home, the familiar sights of Seoul did little to lift his spirits. The bustling city, with its endless energy and noise, felt strangely detached from him. It was as if he were walking through a film, present but not truly there.

Hyunjin dropped his bags in the corner of his apartment, pausing to glance at the framed photos on the wall. Images of friends and family stared back at him, but they failed to spark any joy. He sighed, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The echo of your laughter, the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention — it all replayed in his mind like a haunting symphony.

The emptiness settled deeper, and for the first time, he realised just how much you had become a part of him. And now, without you, Seoul — the place he had always called home — felt strangely foreign.

Days in Seoul blurred into each other like a monotonous painting. The once-vibrant city, alive with lights and the hum of possibility, felt devoid of colour. Hyunjin walked through the bustling streets, surrounded by people yet feeling utterly alone. The familiar sights of cafes, street vendors, and neon signs barely registered in his mind. The laughter of friends and the clatter of car horns seemed muted, as if the world were moving at a distance, separated from him by an invisible barrier. 

A week passed in this haze of emptiness, the weight of memories pressing down on him like an anchor. He avoided looking at his photos, afraid that seeing you would unravel him completely. But one night, when sleep refused to come and the silence of his apartment became suffocating, he gave in. Pulling out the small stack of printed photos, his fingers trembled as he sifted through them.

His heart thudded as he glanced through the images, expecting your smile to leap from the film or the sparkle in your eyes to cut through the gloom that had wrapped around him. But as he flipped through one photo after another, confusion began to cloud his mind. The meadow with its sea of wildflowers, the sun-dappled stream, the towering willow tree—they were all there, captured in their vivid beauty. But you weren't.

Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat as he went through the photos again, this time slower, more deliberately. The bakery where you’d shared secret smiles and laughter was absent. The quaint cobblestone streets of the village, the small square with its fountain—none of it was there. His photos were filled only with sweeping landscapes, untouched by any sign of human presence.

He sat back, the photos slipping from his hands and scattering across the table. A chill ran down his spine, and he pressed a palm to his forehead as if trying to steady the storm in his mind. How could you not be there? How could the town, as real as the warmth of your touch, not exist in any frame?

The unanswered questions gnawed at him, pushing him to action. The next morning, with barely a moment’s hesitation, he found himself in the public library, searching for maps and old records. The smell of aged paper and ink surrounded him as he pored over books, their yellowed pages filled with histories and lists of places he had known since childhood.

He traced his finger over the worn map of the countryside, finding familiar town names, but there was no mention of the town where he had spent those unforgettable weeks. No quaint bakery, no vibrant market. It was as if the place had been swallowed by the earth, erased from existence.

A feeling of dread unfurled in his chest, cold and insidious, snaking through his veins until it gripped his heart in a vice. It spread to his stomach, coiling and twisting until nausea surged within him, threatening to pull him under. His mind raced with questions, each more unsettling than the last. Had he imagined it all? The doubt whispered like a traitorous voice, chilling him to his core. Were you nothing more than a figment of his longing, a cruel trick played by his own desperate heart? The notion made his skin prickle with an icy sweat, and the room seemed to shrink around him, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

Hyunjin's hands trembled as he pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to still the storm of confusion and fear that buzzed in his head like a swarm of angry bees. He felt lightheaded, as though the ground beneath him were shifting, pulling him further away from any sense of reality he could hold on to. The world around him blurred, the distant sounds of pages turning and the soft murmur of voices dissolving into a muffled hum.

His chest tightened, each breath a battle as doubt gnawed at him, insidious and relentless. It left him feeling hollow, as if the foundation of everything he had believed had suddenly been yanked away, leaving him suspended in a void of uncertainty. The pounding of his heart was loud in his ears, a frantic, dissonant drumbeat that matched the frantic thoughts tearing through his mind.

But deep down, buried beneath the avalanche of fear and questions, where logic could not reach, he clung to the unwavering truth that you were real. Your laughter—bright and free, wrapping around him like a warm embrace—had touched a place in him that no illusion ever could. The way your eyes, with their depth and unspoken secrets, could convey a thousand stories in a single glance was not something his imagination could conjure. Those moments were etched into his soul with a permanence that no doubt could erase, as vivid as if they had happened just moments before.

He swallowed hard, the sick feeling still churning in his stomach, but determination began to glimmer through the haze of dread. Whatever this meant, whatever reality had slipped between the cracks, he needed answers. He wouldn’t let you become a ghost, a beautiful and tormenting figment lost to the shadows of memory.

He had to go back. The need was so overwhelming, it left no room for second-guessing. With a heart pounding hard enough to echo in his ears, he booked a flight for the very same day, every passing moment stretching unbearably thin. The hours in the air were a blur of anxiety and hope tangled together, each heartbeat a whispered plea that this time, reality wouldn’t betray him.

When Hyunjin finally stepped off the plane and onto the familiar soil, he felt a pulse of something close to relief, though it was soon replaced by a gnawing unease. He hurried to the bus station, breathless, as he approached the driver and gave the name of the village. The driver looked at him with a furrowed brow, confusion darkening his features.

“I’m sorry, where?” the driver asked, his tone laced with doubt.

Hyunjin’s stomach dropped, but he forced his voice to stay steady as he repeated the name, this time adding details and directions etched in his memory like the lines of a map. The driver’s expression softened with reluctant understanding, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Alright, I’ll take you as far as I can.”

The ride was steeped in silence, the bus rattling over the winding road as the landscape turned from bustling streets to rolling fields and dense woods. With each mile, Hyunjin’s chest tightened, the unease blooming into full-blown dread. Every bend in the road seemed to taunt him with the question: What if it was never there?

Finally, the bus halted. The driver gave him a cautious look, as if unsure whether to leave him alone in a place that seemed to exist only in the past or imagination. Hyunjin muttered his thanks, his legs unsteady as he stepped off and felt the crunch of gravel beneath his feet.

Hyunjin’s eyes swept frantically across the landscape, searching for the familiar details that had once filled his world with warmth and belonging. He looked for the narrow paths that twisted between stone cottages, the soft glow of lanterns hung from doorways, the flower boxes brimming with wild blooms. But instead, an expanse of untouched green stretched before him, an endless sea of grass swaying gently under the afternoon light, mocking him with its emptiness. Not a single trace of the village remained.

The silence was suffocating, pressing into his ears until all he could hear was the thundering of his own heartbeat. Panic bubbled up from deep within, sharp and wild, clawing its way up his chest. His breath came in shallow gasps, each one feeling like an attempt to swallow shards of glass. The air thickened, heavy with disbelief and a dread that threatened to choke him.

He stumbled forward, feet tripping over themselves as if they could outrun the reality taking shape before him. With each step, the ache in his chest tightened, coiling around his ribs and squeezing until pain radiated through every nerve. He was running now, the world around him blurring into a smudge of green and gold, desperation urging him forward despite the screaming in his mind: It’s gone. It’s all gone.

Suddenly, he stopped, heart still pounding as his vision cleared. There, rising like a guardian from the past, stood the old willow tree. Its sweeping branches dipped toward the earth, the leaves dancing with the same gentle grace he remembered. It swayed as if greeting him, as if acknowledging his return. A shiver raced down his spine, cold and electric, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. The tree was the only remnant left of what had once been so alive, so tangible.

Confusion flooded him, crashing over the fear and heartbreak like a storm surge. He pressed a hand to his chest as if trying to hold the pieces of himself together. How could this be real? How could everything else be gone, as if it had been nothing more than a dream, an illusion spun by his longing heart?

His legs buckled under the weight of it all, and he sank to his knees beneath the tree’s canopy, his hands gripping the grass as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. The ache in his chest erupted, raw and uncontrollable, and a guttural cry tore from his throat, echoing into the silence around him. His pain spilt out in waves, a sound filled with loss and longing, shaking his entire body.

He stayed there, unmoving, his head bowed as tears traced hot, stinging paths down his face. The world around him seemed to hold its breath, time frozen in a painful stasis. The whispering of the willow's branches brushed against the silence, a sound so soft it almost felt like your voice, gentle and familiar. Each rustle seemed to echo with laughter, the kind that had once filled this very space when you had spun around in carefree circles, hair catching the sunlight like spun gold.

The memories clawed at him, vivid and relentless. He could see you leaning against the tree, eyes bright with mischief as you teased him, daring him to catch you in a game only you understood. He could feel the warmth of your fingers entwining with his when you sat together, your touch grounding him in a way nothing else ever had. The way you would tilt your head, eyes searching his face as if he were the only thing in your world, made his heart ache with both joy and loss.

He remembered the mornings by the stream, where the sun would paint your features in gold, your laughter bouncing off the water as you splashed him and ran. The scent of wildflowers that clung to your hair, the soft hum of your voice as you sang under your breath while tending to your work at the bakery. Each memory pressed into him, sharp and bittersweet, until the weight of them made it impossible to move.

Time stretched endlessly, each second punctuated by the ragged sound of his breathing, each breath feeling like a battle to reclaim air. The quiet closed in, oppressive and suffocating, pressing against his chest until it felt as if it might shatter. The wind swept through the willow’s leaves, carrying the final notes of his broken cry into the void, leaving him in a silence so deep it threatened to consume him.

The minutes ticked by, or perhaps it was hours. He couldn’t tell; the line between past and present blurred in the flood of memories. His vision swam with the ghostly images of your smile, the light in your eyes, the way you would say his name, drawing out the syllables as if savouring them.

He stayed there, head bowed, the pain carving deep, unrelenting lines through his soul. The world remained unmoving, frozen with him, until the stillness itself seemed to breathe, waiting for something neither of them could name.

And then, cutting through the suffocating stillness, came a sound that made his breath catch.

“Hyunjin?”

quite a long one :3 i actually wrote this story a while ago and then deleted the whole the thing and restarted 😀 this version is actually so much better tho it just took me foreverrrrrr 🥲 BUT ANYWAYSSSSS I hope you guys enjoy it and please tell me what you think :) OH and pls let me know if u find a mistake somewhere!