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[rafeandonlyrafe]

finding freedom

words: 4.2k

warnings: emotion abuse (not from rafe), potential physical abuse (again not from rafe), friends to lovers, brief violence, brief mention of fatphobia/readers body size, soft!rafe (but he still punches someone bc rafe is gonna rafe)

“can we please just not do this today?” you sigh, smoothing your hand down your freshly straightened hair, needing every strand to be set in place for midsummers tonight.

“i’m not doing anything, can you not be a bitch?” scott groans, fixing his tie in the mirror.

you sigh just quietly enough for scott not to hear. the start of your relationship was perfect. he never called you names or hurt you’re feelings, but that changed quickly, and now you’re numb to his insults. you love has faded into nothing, feeling like you’re more of a glorified maid than an actual girlfriend.

“i just don’t want any problems at midsummers tonight.” you say. “the whole town will be there.” at least everyone in the town whose approval you care about.

“i won’t start any problems if you don’t.” scott says, walking out of your shared bedroom. you never should have agreed to move in with him so quickly, but you were getting tired of your parents overbearing nature, only for them to leave for florida permanently a month after you moved out, giving you no other option on where to live.

you check your teeth for lipstick in the mirror once more before following him out.

you ride to the country club in silence, scott staring at the road ahead while you gaze out the window, eyes turning glassy as you slip out of focus like you have more and more lately.

you arrive at the celebration, knowing scott won’t open the door for you. he hasn’t in weeks. you step out, adjusting your dress that had ridden up from being sat down in scotts sports car.

you walk side by side with scott, instead of hand in hand. you wonder if people even know that you’re a couple. if they would ever suspect it when you certainly don’t act like it.

“what do you want to drink?” scott asks, already eyeing the bar.

“i don’t want anything.” you say, hoping that will stop scott from drinking too early as well, but instead he walks away, leaving you alone.

“hey.” a familiar voice purrs out as you turn around quickly.

“rafe!” a smile spreads across your face as you see one of your oldest friends. he quickly wraps you in a tight but still appropriate hug.

“no scott?” rafe asks, looking around hopefully.

“he’s um… already at the bar.” you laugh gently, feeling the awkward tension rise already. scott loves to have you all to himself, which caused you to lose touch with a lot of your friends, even rafe who you used to see at least every other day.

“already.” rafe hums out, words stinging.

“yeah, i should probably catch up with him…” you trail off, walking away leaving rafe looking at you with evident disappointment. 

you find scott amongst the crowd, but don’t bother making your way towards him as you spy kelce and his sister sat at a table in the corner.

“hey!” you smile and take the open seat.

“girl, its been so long! where have you been?” kelces little sister asks. 

“uh-” you’re about to make something up, when thankfully kelce saves you.

“oh shit, i love this song!” he hops up from his seat, chair clattering against the sun bleached hardwood. “dance with me, y/n?”

“yeah, sure.” you take kelces hand, happy that you seem to have slipped back into your natural rhythm as you dance, his hand high up on your waist to avoid any cries of indecency by the other attendees.

you dance with kelce through a couple songs before being passed off to one of his friends you don’t know very well, but you’re happy all the say, laughing as the crowd of younger folk grows as the songs shift more modern.

“y/n, can i have your next dance?” rafe asks, scooping you away from your current partner with ease.

“of course.” you feel your cheeks blushing unwillingly from the way he holds you close to his chest.

“babe, lets go home.” scott suddenly appears next to you.

you take an obvious step away from rafe, putting distance between your bodies for both of your sakes. “i’m not ready yet.” you say, attempting to keep your voice soft.

“well i am. so come on.” scott grabs your forearm, pulling you away.

you manage to look back at rafe as you get dragged towards the door. “sorry.” you mouth, hoping he doesn’t rush after you and cause a scene, even though you can see the anger on his features.

scott finally lets go when you’re out the door as you follow him across the parking lot towards his obnoxious bright yellow sportscar.

“give me the keys.” you say.

“i can drive.” scott says, waving you off.

“you are drunk!” “i said i can drive, woman!” scott shouts at you, ripping open the drivers side door and depositing himself in front of the wheel.

“then im not going with you!” you yell.

“fine, stay here for all i care!” scott slams the door shut and doesn’t even glance back at you as he backs out of the spot, wheels squealing as he leaves the parking lot.

“fuck.” you curse, heading back towards the country club. you make it to the front step before you even realize that you’re crying, tears escaping down your face. you quickly brush them away, hoping kelce or maybe topper or sarah can give you a ride home.

you take a minute to calm yourself before stepping back in, the atmosphere so different to how you feel inside.

you see rafe stood in front of the window to your right, clearly watching everything that went down in the parking lot.

“rafe-”

“are you okay?” he questions, head tipping forward, staring at you with intense eyes.

“i-” you clear your throat, holding back the tears as you force a smile on your face. “of course im okay.”

“i see the way he treats you. its wrong.” 

“we’re fine.” you shake your head, voice as loud as you can make it without cracking, yet still a whisper.

“do you want to spend the night at tanneyhill? the guest bedroom is open for you always.”

“i-i guess that would be fine.” you shrug. “just cause hes drunk. he… he isn’t drunk often.” its a bold faced lie, yet you still tell it, covering for your boyfriend and dampening the anger still sketched across rafes brow.

“mhm.” rafe leads you back outside. he doesn’t talk to you for the ride back to tanneyhill, but it doesn’t feel the same as the oppressive silence that fills the car whenever you’re with scott.

“thank you. i’ll leave in the morning.” 

rafe just nods.

--

you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at scott. “well?” “well what?” he questions, throwing his hands in the air.

“you really don’t know what today is?” 

“no, and you won’t tell me!”

“forget it.” you push yourself off the bed. “i’m taking the jeep.” you call out, not bothering to tell him where you’re going.

you’re not even sure at first as you drive around before you ultimately decide to drive towards the tennis courts. you have none of your equipment, but you can at least sit in the stands and watch others play as a way to pass the time.

“what are you doing here on your birthday?” 

you let out a squeal in shock, almost closing the door on yourself. “rafe! you scared the shit out of me!” “sorry.” he holds his hands up, wide smile on his face. “but seriously, you’re playing tennis on your birthday?”

“scott forgot.” you blurt out. “so… i was just kinda driving around aimlessly.” you shrug.

“well, let me take you out then birthday girl. lunch?” you realize after rafes suggestion how hungry you are and nod quickly.

rafe takes you out to your favorite restaurant, immediately telling the waitress it’s your birthday and you’ll be having dessert first, making you giggle and roll your eyes as an ice cream sundae is brought out for you to share.

“hey.” rafe says, bringing you back to the tennis courts to pick up your car now that the sun has set, having spent the entire day together. “i got you a present.”

“really?” you gasp. “rafe, you didn’t have to!” 

“you’re my friend, its no problem.” he shrugs, reaching into the backseat and handing you a thin wrapped box.

“oh my god, thank you.” you reach across the center console, pulling him into a hug before ripping into the colorful paper, eyes widening when you realize what you were just gifted.

“absolutely not, its too much!” you lift up the beautiful gold bracelet, stone embellishments inlaid into the pattern.

“come on, you deserve something beautiful today. let me help you put it on.” rafe doesn’t give you any time to argue, taking the bracelet and slipping it around your wrist, fingers gently touching your skin as he clips it.

“i-i seriously can’t thank you enough.”

“all i want in return is for you to be happy.” rafe says, looping your fingers together. 

you squeeze them back, holding back your tears as you mutter a goodbye, promising to call rafe soon before heading back home to scott. any time you feel upset on the ride back, you just look at your gift and think of rafe.

“you still don’t know?” you call as you enter the house.

“it’s your birthday.” scott appears from the living room, handing you a gift bag.

“are you serious?” you follow him deeper into the house as he flops back onto the couch, eyes on the television.

“i got you a gift, what more do you want?” scott groans.

you can’t help but laugh, a mean, bitter laugh as you look into the bag. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” it’s an eyeshadow palette with a $2.99 sticker on it. you don’t care about the cost of gifts, but this is clearly something he just picked up from the dollar store with zero thought.

“its makeup. you like girly shit.” scott shrugs.

“yeah, thanks.” you say sarcastically, throwing the bag onto the coffee table as you stomp away. you hear scott following you, and you almost make it into your room before his hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back towards him.

“what the fuck is your problem?” he shouts.

you want to yell back, want to scream in his face and let go of all your rage, but as his hold tightens on your wrist, you don’t dare to speak up.

“i tried to get you something you liked.” he reasons.

“i know.” by some sick standards, he did.

“i can give you something else you like.” scott guides your hand to his crotch, placing it there before you snatch your hand back.

“i’ve got a headache.”

“of course you do.” scott rolls his eyes, walking back down the stairs without another word.

--

“you could have at least asked me before you agreed to dinner.” scott says, changing out of his sweatpants into an old pair of jeans.

“you don’t have to come.” you shrug, adding the bracelet rafe gifted you last, your favorite accessory to every outfit, no matter how casual. “its just gonna be rafe, topper and kelce.”

“of course im coming. you think im going to let you go out to eat with three men without your boyfriend?” “do you not trust me?” you raise an eyebrow.

scott just shrugs, and leaves his answer at that, grabbing his car keys as you follow behind.

you’re the last one to arrive, a small apologetic smile on your face as the boys see scott following right behind.

the waitress comes to get everyones drink orders now that the party is complete. you order a lemonade, with scott getting himself a beer, as usual. you notice rafe gets just a cold glass of water, his eyes meeting yours from his spot across the table.

“alright, what can i get yall to eat?” the waitress pulls out a notepad and pen.

everyone orders for themselves until it gets to scott. “ill have the stake, medium well. she will have a side salad.”

you furrow your brow, you never talked about wanting a salad beforehand. “um, actually i’ll have the chicken parm.”

the waitress glances between the two of you before nodding and scurrying away.

“god, you’re getting so fat.” scott says under his breath, yet you still clearly hear.

you wait a few minutes, attempting to listen to whatever sport kelce and topper are going on and on about, when the urge to cry becomes too overwhelming and you have to excuse yourself, walking towards the bathroom before slipping outside.

you are leaned up against the exterior of the building, chest rising and falling as you attempt to control all the feelings you have building inside of you.

“why don’t you say anything to him?” 

“god, rafe.” you place your hand on your chest. “you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“i heard what he says. i see the way he treats you, and i can’t just sit back and watch that happen.”

“what am i supposed to do?” you look up at rafe in desperation.

“break up with him.” he says simply.

“we live together. i-i have no place to go. this is a small island, and we have mutual friends. i can’t just walk away and never see him again.

“so how long are you going to put up with it? because i am seconds away from smashing his face in.” rafes fist clenches in anger, like hes visualizing punching scott this very moment.

“i… i’ll do it today. at home so i can get my stuff then i’ll go to a hotel-”

“tanneyhill. you’ll come to tanneyhill. i told you, the guest bedroom is always open for you.”

“thank you, rafe.” you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, allowing the minutes to stretch by as he holds you.

“lets get you inside, yeah?” 

you nod, allowing rafe to lead you back into the restaurant. scott has a suspicious look in his eye but stays silent.

--

“we need to talk when we get home.” you say, scotts foot pushed down on the accelerator as he speeds home.

“what is there to talk about?” he questions.

“just some things i want to get off my chest.” you leave it at that, returning to the silence you’ve come to know well.

you can barely wait until you’re through the door before the words spurt out. “i want to break up.”

scott stands there with a blank expression, causing you to doubt whether you actually verbally said anything. 

“i want to break up.” you repeat.

“no.” scott says, face flushing with anger.

“what do you mean no?” you question.

“is this because i called you fat? well, im sorry for that. i just think you could lose a little weight.” scott throws his hands up in the air like he’s the victim.

“i just can’t take this anymore. i’m not happy. you’re not happy. why are we torturing ourselves?” “you’re not leaving.” scott takes a step closer to you. “i won’t allow you to fucking leave.”

“scott, please.” you shake your head.

“you’re mine!” he yells, bursting forward to grab your shoulders, pushing you against the wall as you let out a shriek.

your eyes closed, accepting that this is the time. this is when you will be hit. you just hope it doesn’t break anything as you wait for your fate, but it never comes.

your eyes open to see rafe burst through the door, immediately accessing the situation and shoving scott away from you.

“what the fuck!” he shouts, charging towards rafe, but it's no use as rafes fist rises and meets his nose, knocking him onto the ground and out cold.

“are you okay?” rafe wraps you in his arms as your body crumbles, holding you up like your weight is nothing as you sob.

“i-thank you.”

“i’ve got you. come on, lets go get your stuff. im taking you to tanneyhill.”

you nod, in a haze as you gather up your belongings, leaving behind anything that can be left as you get just the essentials, rafe helping you carry them out, even as you step around scotts still body, lying on the floor. you check to make sure his chest is rising and falling, and then don’t look at him again.

--

“ive never seen you so happy.” sarah laughs as you flit around the kitchen, making the biggest breakfast you can for the entire cameron family. eggs prepared in every way, toast, waffles, pancakes, anything and everything. it’s really all for rafe, your savior.

“what is there to be upset about?” you shrug. “i’m single!”

“and youre spending lots of time with rafe again.” she eyes you up and down as your hand shakes slightly pouring a glass of orange juice for wheezie.

“shut up.” you whisper, but the smile doesn’t drop from your face, especially as rafe enters the room. you transformed in the night, the shackles of scotts emotional abuse finally falling away, allowing your true self to reappear.

“im taking you out to dinner tonight, y/n.” rafe says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“you haven’t even had breakfast yet and you’re already thinking about dinner?” you laugh, shoving a plate full of his favorites into his hands.

“to celebrate.” he shrugs. “maybe i’ll convince top to throw a party.”

“ugh, i really don’t want to be around drunk people.” you admit. you want to celebrate, but preferably without alcohol at least for a month. rafe just nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking a seat at the island next to sarah.

“after you’re done eating, you can help me look for an apartment or a condo.” you tell rafe. “maybe i could ask ward about-”

“you know you don’t need to be in a rush to leave, right?” rafe interrupts you.

“yeah, but i don’t want to take advantage.” you shrug.

“you’re not.” rafe says, that serious, intense look back in his eye.

“okay.” you nod, soft smile on your face as he takes a bite of his waffle. you turn back to the stove as the timer goes off.

“oh, and maybe we could look for some place to move in together.” you glance back at rafe as he speaks, not caring that your bacon is getting crispier and crispier. “probably time for me to leave the nest anyways… and there’s no one i’d rather live with than you.”

--

“gosh, y/n, you can talk about something else.” rafe laughs as you launch into another discussion about what kind of house or condo you could move into together, what features you’re looking for and renovations you want to avoid.

“i’m excited!” you whine, taking another bite of your food.

“its cute.” rafe says, making you almost choke as you take a quick sip of your water.

“i just really can’t wait to live together. it’ll be so refreshing after…” you don’t need to say his name, not so soon after. 

“of course.” he nods. “do you want dessert?” rafe asks, seeing the waitress walking over.

“maybe we could split a hot fudge cake?” 

“here’s another water, sir.” she winks at rafe, handing him another glass even though his is not even half empty. “and can i get you anything for dessert?” she leans down, feigning to be reaching into her apron for her notepad, but is clearly just showing off her chest.

“one hot fudge cake, two spoons.” rafe barely pays attention to her as she scribbles it down and walks away disappointed.

“well, she’s bold.” you huff, glaring at her back until she rounds a corner.

“jealous?” rafe smirks, making your eyes widen.

“i never said that!”

“mhm.” rafe takes a sip of his new water. “don’t worry, you’re cute when you’re jealous too.”

--

“really, thanks for this topper.” you smile, accepting his hand as you step onto his family yacht, taking you and a couple friends, of course including rafe, out for a day on the water.

“just happy to have my friend back.” he says. you feel so lucky to have such amazing people surrounding you, supporting you after your breakup and not holding the way you treated them while in your relationship against you.

you take a seat next to rafe as topper begins to pull the boat away from the dock, allowing your eyes to close and head to rest against rafes shoulder as you feel the sun warm your skin.

you lay like that until topper navigates the yacht into deeper waters for everyone to jump off and swim. you hang back for a moment, watching everyone throw in floating pads or inner tubes as you smile, feeling more relaxed than you have in months.

“ready?” rafe asks.

“oh, yeah.” you pull off your coverup and jump into the water, laughing when you come up as rafe cannonballs right next to you.

you spend the next couple of hours in the water, only getting out to dive right back in. you swim around with rafe, but manage to break away from his attention to talk to your other friends for a bit as well.

your stomach rumbles as topper calls for lunch, having packed sandwiches into the fridge in the yachts kitchen before you left. you sit on your towel on the deck, rafe bringing you back a sandwich and bag of chips as everyone begins to talk.

you watch happily, content to sit back and just be in the moment. you tense up slightly when topper brings out a cooler of drinks, relaxing only slightly when you realize it’s only enough for everyone to have one or two beers or white claws and no one will be getting plastered.

“wanna head back in the water?” rafe asks when you're finished.

“actually…” you look at one of your friends screaming as kelce scoops her up and jumps into the water with her in his arms. “wanna go lay on the sundeck?” “yeah.” rafe follows you away from the crowd until you reach the large white cushions and spread yourself over them, arching your back and stretching.

rafe sprawls out next to you, but turns himself to the side so he can look at you.

“i like you, y/n.” he says.

“i-” its so sudden, so forward, yet so rafe.

“you don’t have to say anything back. but you should know, especially if we are buying a place together.” you nod slowly, taking in his words. “i like you. and i want to kiss you.”

you just nod, a smile spreading across your cheeks as rafe moves closer, placing his hand on your cheek as he leans down, lips pressing against yours.

you’re elated for a moment, until your nose catches the smell of alcohol and you freeze, realizing there’s still the sticky sweet taste on his lips as you’re suddenly transported back to feeling what it’s like kissing scott.

you pull away suddenly.

“i’m… shit. i’m sorry.” rafe stands quickly before you can even process.

“wait!” you call out, legs feeling like jelly yet you force them to work, standing as you rush after rafe, but by the time you reach the main deck, hes taken off on one of toppers jetskis, heading towards home.

“what happened?” topper asks, seeing the tears in your eyes.

“we-we kissed and-” you let out a sob. “i got a flashback of scott because of the beer smell and i pulled away and-” another sob racks through your body. “he thought i was rejecting him but… i love him topper! i need to go and find him and tell him and-” “calm down, okay? you can’t do anything in this state.” topper places his hands on your shoulders, moving you to sit in a chair.

“everyone back on the boat!” he yells, his tone unusually authoritative as everyone scrambles to get the floaties back into the boat.

the yacht moves faster than you thought possible as topper races back, knowing how important this is to you, and to rafe. he’s not going to let his friends miss out on true love just because of a misunderstood trauma response.

thanks to the slow jetski, you reach the dock only a minute after rafe. you’re off the boat and running after him before the lines are even secured.

“wait!” your feet slap against the wood until you reach rafe, grasping his wrist and pulling him to face you.

“just-” rafe sighs. “let me go, y/n. you can stay at tanneyhill of course just… i don’t need you to reject me again.” “let me explain!” you shout, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i wanted to kiss you, i swear. i just smelled the beer on you, and i got a flashback to scott. i got freaked out, it had nothing to do with you. im just… still recovering.”

“shit.” rafe groans, head tipping back at he stares at the sky for a moment, collecting his anger. “i’m so fucking stupid. of course you need more time, you just left him a couple days ago.” “no im… i like you too rafe. i know i need to heal, but i want to do that with you. i love you.”

rafes face turns briefly to one of confusion before a smile takes over. “im going inside to go use toppers mouthwash real quick then im coming back to kiss you. don’t move.”

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (5)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.4K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, eventual smut

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

Buckle in, folks!

-----

He spends that first night tossing and turning, fighting to find sleep. It’s hard for him to be down the hall, knowing you were so close, yet so far out of his reach. In only a few days, he had gotten used to falling asleep and waking up with you in the chair beside his bed. The next morning, you somehow look more tired now than you had the whole time he was in the hospital, and he was sure that he was the same. 

Being here was different than he anticipated. Part of him expected to walk into this house and have every memory he’d lost rush back to him in technicolor. He was disappointed when that didn’t happen, and he thinks that even if you won’t say it, you are, too. 

He didn’t remember anything, but his instincts were there. He knew which drawer held the utensils and which cabinet housed plates and bowls and which one had coffee cups. He knew where the two of you kept Florry’s food and that her treats were kept in one of the drawers in the coffee table. It was muscle memory, he supposed. 

But his brain tickled sometimes, like it wanted to remember something but couldn’t. He often felt that frustrating sensation of something being right there on the tip of his tongue, but he’s unable to produce exactly what it is. 

He dreams every night. His subconscious creates scenes of flying and crashing ocean waves, of snow covered streets and twinkle lights. He swears your laughter echoes in his ears when he rouses to consciousness. 

He doesn’t know if they’re memories, or if they’re figments brought on by the yearning he feels toward you the longer he’s around you. Either way, they’re never quite clear enough for him to even ask you about them. But he sneaks into your office one night and swipes a pen and a pad of sticky notes and takes to writing down all the details he can recall when he wakes up. 

Over the first few days of being home, the two of you get into a tentative routine. You somehow wake before he does, and there’s coffee waiting for him when he makes his way downstairs. You’re not much of a breakfast person, but you make him eggs and bacon and toast or whatever he’s in the mood for, even if he insists you don’t have to. You take him to his follow up appointments or evaluations, which takes up his time until the early afternoon. The two of you have taken to grabbing lunch while you’re out everyday, before going back to the home you share and making yourselves busy until dinner.

He finds himself wanting to touch you more. There were no more forehead kisses, but his knee will knock against yours sometimes when the two of you are eating. He always holds the door open for you whenever you two are out, and sometimes you’ll brush against him just so when you’re passing by. When the two of you are walking somewhere, his fingers twitch to hold onto yours. He’s taken to placing his hand near your lower back, not quite touching you, but close enough where he can feel your body heat. 

You like to curl up in the corner of your sectional couch, and he feels like you’re a million miles away when he sits on the other end. 

Getting to know you again is a whirlwind of feelings he doesn’t understand. You’re kind, and beautiful, and you make him laugh. He has near constant butterflies in his stomach whenever you’re around. 

He knows himself well enough to know that he’s developed feelings for you, and the concept makes his head hurt, knowing this isn’t the first time but not remembering it. He doesn’t mention it to you, because he doesn’t know if it would make things better or worse. 

He wants to ask you questions about the two of you, too. You told him how you met, but he wants to know what your first date was like. He wants to know who said I love you first, though he thinks it was him. He wants to know how he proposed after only 4 months of knowing you and he wants to know why you said yes. 

He wants to know everything, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Part of him is scared of the answers.

He’s seen the way you look at him, sometimes. Like it breaks your heart for him to be there with you, even though he knows how relieved you are for him to be. You don’t say anything to him, but he knows that you’re struggling. You do your best to always keep a smile on your face around him, but it’s your eyes that give you away, combined with this deep instinct he seems to have when it comes to you and your emotions.

After dinner every night, you’ve been finding yourselves sitting out on the back porch. The weather has been getting cooler and watching the sun go down with you has become his favorite part of being home. You avoid anything too heavy, too intimate, but you regale him with different tales from the last few years with your friends and your individual careers, or of you before you knew him, but the light in your eye is dim whenever you finish a tale and there’s no recognition in his. 

He’s worried about you, but he doesn’t know if he has the right to tell you that. There’s something of a tension building in the air, and he can’t figure out how to cut through it just yet.  

But he enjoys getting to know you again, and he hangs onto your every word. He loves every single moment the two of you have together and craves more of them. Even the most mundane of things, like when he went with you to the grocery store of all places. Phoenix had loaded their kitchen with essentials, but there was a specific recipe you were wanting to make that you swore he would love but that you needed a few things for. You looked surprised when he had asked if he could go with you, but pleased at the same time. 

He pushed the cart as you checked things off your list and god, he loved watching you. You were looking up and down the aisle you were standing in, seemingly a little puzzled, and he was completely enraptured. 

“I can never remember where the dates are,” you muttered, and he thinks it might have been only to yourself, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. 

“On a calendar?” 

You shot him a look, looking incredulous but amused, and smacked him lightly on the arm with the list you were carrying. The touch sent a shot of electricity through him and he laughed, feeling warm. “Ow.” 

“Okay, you comedian,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “I was going to make you dessert, but maybe I won’t now,” 

“No, come on,” he laughed, pushing the cart forward, nodding his head to the side, “They’re in the next aisle over,” 

You stop walking, and after a second, Bradley does too, realizing what he just said. He turns to you and you’re looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He thinks he might see a little bit of pride in them, too. And it’s so silly, getting choked up by instinctively remembering where something is in a grocery store he can never remember being in, but he feels a lump in his throat anyway. He coughs, trying to dislodge the emotion. You don’t say a word, maybe sensing the moment that he’s having, but you squeeze his arm when you pass by him on your way to the aisle he indicated. After a moment, he follows behind you. 

He thinks he would follow you anywhere. 

————

It’s a Friday and he's been home for eight days now. He has a headache when he wakes up that morning, and he can’t remember anything notable from the previous night's dream to write down in his notebook. Part of him wants to go back to sleep and try again, but he pushes himself out of bed anyway. 

Like she had been the last few days, Florry is laying at the guest room door when he opens it. She looks up and meows at him, nuzzling into his hand when he squats down to scratch her head for a moment before she gets up and struts away. He snorts at her, amused at how as soon as she gets what she wants, she moves on to something else. 

He makes his way downstairs slowly, feeling like a drum is pounded right in his ear with every step. There’s a distinct spice in the air as he walks toward the kitchen, and it takes a few sniffs before he places it. 

“Pumpkin?” 

To his surprise, you gasp, and the knife you were holding slips from your grasp and clatters to the granite countertop. You jumped back from it, but your wide eyes were looking straight at him. 

“What did you just call me?”

“What?” 

“You said - you called me Pumpkin.” 

This was one of those significant moments that he was missing. Bradley suddenly felt incredibly awkward, and a little ashamed. A flush crept up his neck to warm his cheeks in the worst way. 

“I uh - I was talking about the smell.”

Watching your face fall cuts him worse than the knife you had been holding ever could. For a brief moment, he saw raw devastation completely overcome you. He starts to say your name, but you cut him off before he can.

“I’m making pumpkin banana pancakes,” you tell him after a moment. You pick the knife back up to continue cutting up the fruit you had on the cutting board. He wants to ask you what had just happened, but bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. He’s frustrated that he can’t remember, and the hurt in your eyes was making his head pound harder. He hates that he’s putting you through this. 

The two of you eat breakfast together, but it’s quieter than it normally is. The air was awkward, tense, and it seemed that neither one of you really knew what to say. 

The day had only gotten worse from there. He was late for his doctor's appointment because the two of you had gotten stuck in traffic, and there was little he hated more in life than being late. His headache had only gotten worse, and he hadn’t been cleared to drive or go back to any sort of desk duty yet. To top it all off, the two of you had run into someone you knew during a near silent lunch and he had to awkwardly push himself through the conversation while pretending he did, too ashamed to actually say he had no idea who he was. 

By the time you returned back home, he was in a sour mood, and he really wanted to go back to bed. 

“Do you need anything?” you asked softly, hovering between the kitchen and living room as he settled himself on the couch unceremoniously. 

“No,” he said shortly, pulling a blanket over him. 

You sigh, and he’s irritated with himself for making you feel bad, too. 

“I’m going to go up to my office for a bit then, okay?” he doesn’t respond. When you sigh, he’s irritated with himself even more for making you feel bad, too. “You can come up and get me if you need anything.” 

Bradley tries to nap the afternoon away, but it’s more fitful than restful. He tosses and turns on the couch. Florry jumps on him at one point, waking him from one of his dozes. 

He closes his eyes, trying again to find some sort of sleep, but nothing comes for him. His mind was moving a little too quickly now, and the guilt was setting in. He had been short with you almost all day, and even if he was frustrated, you didn’t deserve that. You were frustrated too, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Sometimes he wishes you would.

Why the hell did this happen to him after everything else in his life?

His dad, and then his mom, and Mav pulling his papers. He still hasn’t brought himself to reach out to the man he had apparently reconciled with, but you’ve mentioned how he’s asked after him whenever the two of you speak, as had the rest of the crew. It’s frustrating, suddenly having all these people in his life who he views as family, only to have no recollection of who they are. Seeing himself in all of these pictures that are throughout the house constantly boggles his mind. He hates being so confused all the time. 

He hates that he can’t remember you, and that you spend all of your days trying to be strong for him. 

He groans, running a hand roughly over his face. After another 45 minutes of staring at the ceiling fan spin, he throws the blanket off of his legs and forces himself up. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least apologize. 

He drags himself up the stairs slowly, trying to figure out exactly what to say. The door to your office is pulled closed for the first time since he’s come home; he tries not to read into that as you wanting him to stay away. He goes to take a step closer and knock, but your voice through the door stops him. 

“The timing is awful, Jake.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. The only Jake he knew was Hangman, and he hasn’t wrapped his mind completely around the fact that he was apparently one of his best friends now. 

“Bringing a baby into this would make everything so much more complicated. He’s struggling enough as it is. You think suddenly becoming a father would make this all better? The test being negative is for the best.” 

He sucks in a breath, feeling like he just got suckerpunched right in the stomach. He braces himself against the hallway wall with one hand, unsure if he heard you correctly. 

“I’m okay,” you say, and he wishes he could hear both sides of the conversation. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “I promise.” 

There’s another pause, and you let out a small laugh, “I might take you up on that, J.” 

Bradley backs away from the door, his mind going a thousand miles a minute as he tries to process what just happened. 

A baby? You were talking about having a baby. You had mentioned a test. Had you taken it recently? Since he had been home? Why hadn’t you told him, if you had? Was this something that had happened before his accident and just another thing that he forgot? 

He’s your husband. He may not remember it, but he was. Didn’t he have a right to know? 

He stews for a while, and that’s his biggest mistake. He’s scared, and bizarrely disappointed, he’s hurt, but most of all he’s angry. He’s angry that you’re talking to other people about something so personal, but not him. And Hangman, of all people. It festers inside of him, and by the time you come back downstairs, he’s sizzling in it.

“How does chicken and asparagus sound for dinner?” You’re smiling as you walk into the room, but it drops when you see the look in his face. “Are you alright?”

“You thought you were pregnant?”

The color drains from your face, and he knows he has his answer. He stands up from the couch to face you, his thoughts jumbled together, fighting for dominance in his head. You had thought you were pregnant. And you didn’t tell him. 

“How did you know that?” 

“I overheard you on the phone with Hangman,” he practically spits the name, feeling his anger swell even more. “When did you take it?” 

“Bradley-” 

“When did you take the test?” 

You let out a long, shaky breath. You’re twisting your ring around your finger again, and your eyes are starting to glass up, but he forces himself not to focus on any of that. “Yesterday,” you admit softly, “I took it yesterday.” 

He groans, running a hand through his hair. You both had been in this house almost all day yesterday. He had been right here. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have been there with you!”

“Bradley-” 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that we’d been trying to have kids before I got hurt?” 

“Bradley, I really don’t think we should talk about this right now,” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible, but he was already way past that point. 

“Well I want to talk about it,” he snaps, “Why would you keep this from me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you!” you say, your voice rising to meet his. “We aren’t trying for a baby, Bradley. It was a scare. That’s all.”

“But you still took a test! And you didn’t tell me!” 

“There was nothing to tell,” you try, but Bradley shakes his head as his anger reaches a boiling point. 

“Not to me, apparently. You told fucking Hangman about it, but not me? Aren’t I the one who is supposed to be your husband?”

“Yeah, Bradley. You are,” you finally snap, your voice raising for the first time, “But how the hell was I supposed to tell you when you don’t even remember who I am?” 

It was a low blow, but Bradley has never been one to back down.

“I’m trying!” he yells, and you startle back at just how loud he is, “I’m trying every single day. You think I don’t want to remember you? Someone I apparently almost had a kid with? Someone who I want to care for and protect even though I have no idea why? I know this sucks for you, but think about what I’m going through here.” 

“You think I’m not thinking about you?” you demand, shaking your head, “You’re all I’ve been thinking about, Bradley!” 

“Am I?,” he asks, and your mouth drops at the words, but he keeps going anyway even though every instinct in him is screaming at him to shut up. “I trust you without being able to remember you, but it’s hard to do that if you keep things from me. I have no idea what the fuck is going on the majority of the time and you’re the only one I have who will tell me things. Or don’t you want me to remember?” 

The words came out harsher than he anticipated. The look on your face made him wish that he could take them back. His anger dissipated as he saw the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally fall. 

Your name left his lips, but you cut him off before an apology could follow behind.

“Of course I do,” you choked out, a sob catching in your throat. It looks like there’s more you want to say, but after a moment, you just shake your head, your breathing labored. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

Those weren’t the words he expected. Alarm bells are ringing loudly in his head, demanding he fix what he’s done here. 

“What?”

“I need some air,” you explain, your voice cracking. His heart ached watching you gather your phone and keys. 

He speaks your name again, pleading and reaching out for you as you step toward the front door. To his surprise, you ripped your arm out of his grasp. “You don’t call me that,” you snapped. Bradley’s eyes widened. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” you promise. You don’t look at him as you grab a pair of shoes from the closet by the front door, slipping them on. You don’t slam the door when you leave, but the sound of it closing still echoes like gunfire to him. 

He sinks back onto the couch, his aching head in his hands, wondering what the hell he had just done.

————

An hour has passed and you still weren’t back yet. Bradley has taken to pacing back and forth through the living room, peeking out of the curtains by the front door. He shouldn’t have let you leave when you were that upset. He shouldn’t have made you that upset to begin with. He was out of line.

When he really thinks about it with a clearer mind, he understands to an extent why you didn’t tell him about taking the test. He was virtually a stranger to you right now. There would have been little point to filling him in right now when it would have just panicked and confused him. He knows, deep down, that if the test would have been positive that you would have told him. But he had been so scared at that moment, overhearing you on the phone like that. And if he really admitted it to himself, he was jealous, too. He wanted to be the one you confided in for all of those things, big or small, certainty or uncertainty. But he had done nothing to really earn that. 

It wasn’t fair that he accused you of not thinking about him, either. It was so clear in everything that the two of you did that you were taking him into consideration. You had stayed with him every single day in the hospital. You had taken an impromptu leave of absence from work and drove him to all of his appointments. You cooked all of his meals for him and made sure he took his medicine on time and were readily available if he needed anything. You did everything you could to make him as comfortable as he could possibly be in this impossibly uncomfortable situation. You had sacrificed everything for him, and he was a jerk to you in response. 

He really, really wants you to come home soon. 

He had gotten his phone back, but he hadn’t brought himself around to touching it yet, knowing it would be full of a whole life that he wasn’t ready to face yet. Would you even answer if he called at this point? 

Maybe he could go look for you instead. 

Right when he’s about to grab his shoes, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He heaves a sigh of relief when he sees you climbing the steps to the back porch through the window in the kitchen.

You must have come through the back gate instead. He doesn’t even care if it was because you wanted to avoid running into him immediately, so long as you were safe. 

You don’t unlock the door or move to enter the house. Instead, he watches as you settle into one of the plush chairs you have out there below the window that faces into the yard. Your back is to him now, but he’s breathing easier that you’re in his line of sight; you’re okay. 

He lets you be, for a little while. But after another 20 minutes had passed and the sun started setting without you coming inside, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was vibrating with the need to be near you again, to talk to you and apologize. He didn’t like being on the outs with you like this, and he knew it was mostly his fault. 

Your knees are tucked into your chest and your head leant back, but he could see that your eyes were open. They turned to him when he cracked open the door. 

“Hey,” he said simply. 

“Hey.” Your voice is still thick with the tears you had cried earlier. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, knowing he was the one who caused it. 

“Do you mind if I join you out here?” 

“Sure.” 

He steps out onto the porch, sliding the door shut behind him. You look back out into the orange covering your background as he sinks into the chair next to you. 

“How uh..how was your walk?” 

“It was fine,” you respond, hugging your knees a little bit closer. You go to push a piece of hair behind your ear and your ring glints in the setting sun. 

“I was worried about you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear him. But you do, turning your head to look at him. For the first time, he can’t quite read the look on your face. He takes a shaky breath, rubbing his palms on his thighs as he tries to figure out his words. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have kept something that big from you.” 

He shakes his head, because blaming yourself is the last thing he wants for you. “You were looking out for me,” he says, “I understand that now. You…you would have told me, if the results were different. I know that.” 

You nod, not saying anything, and Bradley sighs out your name again. “It wasn’t fair for me to snap at you like that. To yell at you like that. I-I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but so are you. All of this, me being hurt and not….” he cuts himself off, but by the way you close your eyes and let a tear slip down your cheek, you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

Not remembering us. 

“I’ll never be mad at you for being injured, baby,” you say quietly. The term of endearment takes him by surprise. You were always careful with calling him by his name in an unnecessary effort to make him more comfortable; part of him wondered if you were trying to curb his own guilt. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says back. He desperately wants you to know that. You take a shuddering breath at the words. 

“This isn’t your fault,” you say it like it’s an oath, so much so that he almost believes you. But it was hard to do that when there were tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Having you here is harder than I thought it would be,” you admitted so quietly that Bradley could barely hear you. “It’s like a part of me is missing, even though you’re right here in front of me. And I know it’s hard for you to not remember anything, and I’m being selfish-“ 

“You aren’t being selfish.”

You chuckle humorlessly, wiping away at your tears. 

“I’m serious,” he says, and his fingers itch to reach for you. “I think you may be the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You’ve done nothing but take care of me the last two weeks, even when I was in the hospital.” 

“I’ll always take care of you,” you promise, “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Bradley.” 

He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that at first, overcome with the emotions that it caused. He thinks that he would do anything for you, too. 

“I want to remember you,” he finds himself saying, and your eyes shoot to him again, startled at the words. He nods. “I’m not-I’m not good at saying how I feel. But I’ve never, ever felt like I do when I’m with you. You give me butterflies. And I have this instinctual urge to protect you and make you happy. Being around you has been the best part of everyday, even if I’m so confused the whole time.” 

You sniffle as more tears fall. 

“You say all those things about me,” he continues, “and how you’ll always take care of me. And I know I would do the same for you. Even now.”

He lets out a shaky breath, ”It’s like I know who you are right here,” he taps his hand against his chest over his heart, and you let out a small sob. He raises his hand to tap his fingers against his forehead, too. “But I think I need your help to remember you here, okay?”

“I can do that,” you hiccup, nodding rapidly. “We can do it together.”

“That sounds nice.” It really, really does. He returns your soft, watery smile, and he revels in how your eyes shine in the moonlight that had appeared, looking at him like he really was something special to you. 

“Can I -” you stop, clearing your throat and shaking your head as if you’re trying to talk yourself out of something. 

“What?” he encourages. 

“Nothing.” 

“No,” he insists, “please. Tell me.” 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” 

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his answer; he wants to do whatever he could for you. 

Your breathing is shaky, and your voice is as small as he had heard it since he’d opened his eyes and had no idea who you were to him. Your eyes are bright with tears and dull with heartache all at the same time, but you’re still so heartbreakingly beautiful to him. 

“You tell me everyday. Multiple times most days, and even when you’re deployed, I don’t think you’ve gone this long without saying it somehow. I’ve been wanting to hear it so bad since I got the call you were hurt, because I knew it would mean that you’re okay, and I know you aren’t okay, but you’re here and that’s all that really matters and I-” 

He whispers your name to stop your rambling, worried about how tightly you were wringing your hands together and how quickly your breaths were coming. “What is it?” 

“Can you just…tell me you love me? Please?” 

Tears spring to his eyes this time, hating himself for putting you in this situation where you ever, ever had to ask him for something like this. The him from three weeks ago would hate the him sitting here right now. Hell, current him hates himself a little bit. He pushes that hatred aside, though, because this is something he can do. You’re going through misery because of him and this is the first request you had of him.

He doesn’t stop himself this time from reaching out for you. He drops to his knees in front of the chair you were curled up in, cupping your face in his hands. You gasp softly through your tears, reaching up and gripping his wrists in your own hands. He likes to think it was because you wanted to hold him there against you. Even with your tears splashing against his skin, it feels so right, touching you like this. 

You were breathing the same air as one another. He wipes a tear away when it hit his skin. He waits until your glassy eyes lock with his own to whisper the words: “I love you.” 

And he knows, in the deepest depths of his soul, even after so little time passing since being reintroduced to you, that it’s true. He feels a peace settle over him that hadn’t been there before; a missing piece slotting into place, even if the puzzle is nowhere near complete. Saying it feels so, so right, and he can’t help but close the distance between the two of you. It’s a gentle touch, but your lips are so soft against his that he leans into it. 

There's electricity burning under his skin. 

Something flickers in his mind, like a light struggling to turn on. A burnt orange dress and a Cinderella reference, cobblestone streets and a latte that tastes better on your lips than in the cup. There’s a word right there, and he struggles for a moment to grasp onto it. But when he does, it’s like he’s seeing in color after being in a black and white movie. 

“Pumpkin,” he breathes against your lips, “I call you Pumpkin.” 

You sob, then, nodding your head. You’re so close that he can feel your nose brushing against his. You kiss him again, the salt of your tears mixing with his. Your hands move from where they had been grasping his wrists to wrap around his body and you let yourself fall into him, slipping from the chair to meet him on the ground. 

When you pull away from his kiss, you bury your face in his neck, still crying softly. He holds you against him tightly. 

“I’m right here,” he says into your hair like a promise, pressing his lips wherever he can reach, “we’ll remember everything together.”

----

Part Six :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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[munson-blurbs]

i am alrREADY SENDING IN MY REQUEST SO I DONT FORGET AND I NEED THIS

Peanut Butter Cup - Nerds

IM SO EXCITED.

Fake dating/Bookworm!Reader/Steve Harrington

Warnings: fake dating, Harrington familial dysfunction, drunk family members

WC: 1.1k

Divider credit to @saradika

Steve had heard it all from his parents:

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?”

“Just go out on a date, Steven.”

“You spend all damn day at that video store; you’re never gonna meet anyone that way.”

He normally shrugs it off, until his parents give him an ultimatum: get a girlfriend before the annual Harrington Family Reunion in two weeks, or don’t bother showing up at all. 

“Twenty years old, and you barely passed high school, work a dead-end job, and don’t even have a girlfriend,” his father mutters, disgust marring his features. “You’re a disappointment.”

The insult reverberates around his skull all day: disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. It’s not the first time his father has hurled the term his way, and it likely won’t be the last, but the impact continues to sting.

It’s still gnawing at him when you walk in the door, sliding a VHS copy of The Shining across the counter with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I know it’s a day late,” you apologize, already digging into your bag for change. “How much is the fee?”

Steve dismisses the notion with a wave. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, already checking the movie back into the system. “You, uh, went to Hawkins High, right?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, zipping up your purse and hitching it back up your shoulder, “class of ‘86.”

“‘85,” he chirps, clearing his throat to temper his enthusiasm. “Anyway, hope the movie was good.”

You nod and smile again; the gentle upturn of your lips has Steve melting. “It was. The book was better, though.”

And that’s when Steve finally places you: back in high school, you volunteered at the school library and, on more than one occasion, had helped him find a book for research projects. You were pretty then, and you’re even prettier now.

“I haven’t read the book,” he admits, embarrassed that he hasn’t read much of anything besides a comic book or two since graduation. 

Your jaw drops. “Well, now you have to!” You grab your car keys from your back pocket. “I’ll swing by tomorrow with my copy, if that’s cool?”

“Y-Yeah, ‘s cool,” he stutters, giving his head a soft shake to shift the hair from his hazel eyes. He watches as you walk out of the store, the sway of your hips drawing him in. 

He probably would have stared forever if Robin hadn’t cut in. “Hey, Dingus, you’re drooling.”

You stop by Family Video the next day to drop off the book. And then a few days after that, you go there again to grab another movie. Soon enough, you’re a regular customer.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Steve blurts out from where he’s standing next to you as you peruse the horror section. “Feel free to say no, to tell me to fuck off, and I will. I will just…fuck right off.”

“Shoot.”

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend at my family reunion next weekend? Nothing weird,” he rushes to add, not wanting to imply any unwanted contact. “Just hand holding, arm around your shoulder…no feels will be copped, I swear.”

You pinch your eyebrows, perplexed. “Is this the trade-off for having my late fee waived?” you tease, thumbing The Exorcist and tugging it from its spot on the shelf. “Because I’ll pay it.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, just tired of hearing my folks complain about me not having my life together. Figured if I showed up with a smart, pretty girl on my arm, they’d shut up for a little while.”

Your face burns at the compliments, both at the words and that King Steve is the one saying them. “What’s the dress code?”

You and Steve arrive in his Beemer, his hand already pressed to the small of your back as you walk into the restaurant. A room filled with Harringtons greet you as you enter the room, and your stomach flips as you wonder if you can pull this off.

“Showtime,” Steve murmurs in your ear, taking you around the room to meet his family. You’re suddenly self-conscious of where your black dress lands on your thighs and the cut of the neckline. Sure, Steve had approved it, but what did he know?

You note that he’s been gazing at you since he’d picked you up earlier, eyes drawn to you like a magnetic force. It’s part of the whole bit, you try and convince yourself, but something nags at you that Steve isn’t that good of an actor.

The conversations go as easily as they can; you spend the evening peppering in “facts” about your relationship that you and Steve had rehearsed over and over. Some of the details were truthful, like meeting at Family Video and bonding over horror movies. Other parts were much more embellished: relationship duration, your first date, the way Steve bragged that you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

It’s smooth sailing until Steve’s inebriated father stands up, clumsily clinking his knife to his wine glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” he slurs, swaying as he speaks, “to my son, Steve, and his girl! Never thought I’d see the day he’d land someone like her.”

Your eyes remain glued to the floor, waiting for the moment to be over, but if the impromptu speech wasn’t awkward enough, one of Steve’s equally drunk uncles calls out, “Give her a kiss, Stevie!”

Steve shakes his head with an uncomfortable chuckle. “Nah, we’re not really into the public–”

“Aw, c’mon!” His boisterous voice echoes throughout the restaurant. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” he chants, and soon enough, most of the family joins in.

“Shall we shut them up?” Steve mumbles, turning to you. “Y’don’t have to…”

“N-No, we can.” It’s not the most conventional first kiss, but then again, nothing about this arrangement is normal. “We can just…”

Steve’s hand is on your cheek, nose nudging against yours as your lips press together. This isn’t a simple peck; no, it’s far more involved, more intimate, than you had anticipated.

You melt into him a bit more, resting your own hand on his bicep until the kiss comes to an end. The men hoot and holler; the women exchange awws.

“Now that,” Steve’s dad guffaws, clapping a hand on his son’s back, “is the kiss of true love!”

You manage a small smile, wondering exactly what just happened. The kiss was the best of your life, and it was supposedly just for show.

Steve’s breath tickles your earlobe as he whispers, “he may be drunk, but he’s not wrong.” His cheeks are pink at the admission.

It’s certainly a conversation you’ll need to have later, but you can’t say you disagree. For now, your fingers intertwine with his, and you give them a quick squeeze. 

Maybe it’s the wine, but you swear you love him back.

--

[sungbeam]

nonidol!ji changmin x bff!fem!reader

after the death of his best friend, changmin’s been left to grieve and wallow. but when you suddenly come back to him in the form of a ghost, he realizes that this might be his chance to right some wrongs. (aka; changmin has seven days with your ghost to figure out why you’ve been returned to the land of the living.)

▷ genre, warnings. childhood friends au, you are literally dead./major character death, mentions of a car accident, implied past bullying, swearing, fluff, comedy as a coping mechanism, angst, comfort/hurt, grief and survivor’s guilt, so much crying that you might get tired, just telling you now it is not meant to be a romantic plot but there r hints bc i’m a sucker, i’m not religious but ur a ghost(?), getting over one’s best friend’s death is not easy folks so that’s why y/n goes ghost B)

▷ total wc. 16.8k </3

▷ permanent taglist. @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @ethereal-engene

a/n: hey hello! ik this prob won’t get a lot of interaction bc it’s a tbz fic and non-romantic main, but it would mean a lot to me if u reblogged and shared this :’) otherwise, hope u enjoy, and here's some mood songs: yellow (coldplay), last (dvwn), & let's hurt tonight (onerepublic)

DAY ZERO

JUYEON wasn’t really the best at approaching people in this way. There was something about sad people that made him feel helpless, and the fact that this was Ji Changmin, one of his closest friends, the helplessness had collapsed into a sinkhole in the pit of his stomach. Even Chanhee, someone who was arguably closer to Changmin, sat silently after Kevin’s proposed question.

Kevin lifted the straw of his coffee to his lips, eyes glued to a crack in the table they surrounded in the local coffee shop by the school campus. “So… no one has any ideas?”

Sad, drooping heads.

Chanhee blew a puff of air out from his lips as he propped his chin onto his palm. There seemed to be a permanent frown etched into his face nowadays, not far from how Changmin looked. “I wish that we knew how to get through to him, y’know? I think if he would just let us, then we could at least be there with him.”

“He’s grieving, Chanhee,” Kevin replied firmly, but not unkindly. “If he wants alone time, then he deserves that time to himself. But I do think that he needs to come out of his apartment. I mean… his parents will not be happy when they find out he’s skipped almost a month’s worth of classes.”

It had been about a month since that dreadful night you died. Changmin and his friends had all awoken to the news that there had been an Accident. It was on the corner of two streets, on the opposite side of campus, that you had been run down by a drunk driver on your way home from a late shift. Since then, Changmin refused to crawl out of his apartment, insisting on hoarding himself away. He’d only come out of the apartment to let Gana frolic and do his business, but would then proceed to go straight back to his hobbit hole.

This was a far cry from the Changmin they knew—the one who would drag his friends out to the permanent Haunted House attraction in the middle of July, the one who refused to return to his own apartment until he nailed a dance move just right. But the day you died seemed to be the day that Changmin had as well.

Juyeon chewed on his bottom lip, knee bouncing up and down fervently with anxious energy. He hated feeling helpless. As Kevin and Chanhee continued to talk themselves aloud through their own thoughts, Juyeon pulled his phone out from his pocket and sent Changmin a series of texts. When he finished, he shoved the phone under his thigh to keep from constantly checking the screen for disappointment.

“…could always call up Sunwoo and drive him up here. I’m sure he would gladly intrude to cuddle—”

Juyeon was suddenly yanked back out from tuning in when he felt his phone vibrate. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he watched the little bubbles appear under Changmin’s name.

juyo: hey changminnie~ wanna come get bbq with us tonight? it’s on me !

juyo: ice cream afterward on me too

kyu: okay

kyu: what time?

———

Changmin didn’t know what possessed him to come out of his apartment to hang out with his friends. For far too long, he had refused to hang out with anyone else besides Gana and his lonesome. But something in him ignited at the sight of Juyeon’s texts and offers; perhaps it had been his stomach and dwindling bank account.

Nevertheless, he told Juyeon that he would meet him there, and he wasn’t about to flake on his word.

He exhaled a haggard sigh from his mouth, the breath turning to visible air in front of him. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold nipping at his skin, but the sensation felt nice, felt normal. He ducked his head, puffy and tired eyes hidden beneath a red baseball cap, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark hoodie as he walked across the street to reach the lively and warm embrace of the bbq restaurant.

He spied his trio of friends lingering just outside the door, small smiles on their faces as they talked about something amongst themselves. Chanhee threw his head back in a laugh at something Juyeon said, and Changmin suddenly felt out of place without even being there. What if he was just going to ruin the mood? He didn’t want them to be sad or walk around eggshells around him. What if he cried, just out of nowhere? That would definitely ruin the mood—

Before he could swivel on his heel and turn back, Kevin caught his eyes from down the road, his face lighting up. He raised a hand to wave him over, catching the attention of the other two who turned to look. “Yo, Changmin! You made it, man.”

Changmin tried for a smile, his shoulders relaxing. This was fine; he was going to be okay. “Hey guys.”

Chanhee immediately rushed over to him and crushed him in an embrace. “I can’t believe I’ve missed you,” he lamented into Changmin’s jacket.

Changmin chuckled, affectionately patting his friend’s head. “Well, I’m not surprised. I missed you, too, though.”

When Chanhee pulled back, there was an expression of stark disbelief on his face. But before he could point out that Changmin actually admitted to missing him, Changmin was greeted by Kevin and Juyeon.

Juyeon pulled him into a small side hug. “How’re you feeling?”

Changmin swallowed. The tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and his inner voice was shouting at him to hold back. He sucked in a breath. “I’m… I’m okay. How’re you guys?”

There was an exchange of looks between the other three as if they didn’t believe him or they were all silently trying to figure out what best to respond with. Kevin was the one who said, “We’re doing okay, too. Come on; our table’s ready.”

And that was perhaps the very response that Changmin was hoping for—and yet, at the same time, he wondered if he would have liked it better if they called him out for lying instead.

———

Changmin stumbled into his apartment, hand flapping against the wall blindly to find the lightswitch. His dark bangs hung in his eyes as the lights flickered on. He winced, digging his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes to stave the brightness. As he kicked the front door shut, he heard the jingling of Gana’s collar as his pup came up to circle around his legs in warm greeting.

He bent down slightly to scratch behind Gana’s ears. “Hi, boy. Yeah, I’m back.”

He let out yet another sigh and dragged himself over to the couch, collapsing onto the cushion dented with the imprint of his butt from heavy use. Gana leapt onto the couch beside him, dutifully taking residence on the cushion and resting his fluffy head in Changmin’s lap.

For the first time in a month, Changmin had smiled, laughed even. He didn’t like admitting that it had made him feel good; he didn’t like that he could be happy when you’d died so soon ago. The devil perched on his shoulder whispered insecurities into his ear and that high he had been on while out with Chanhee, Kevin, and Juyeon disappeared. Replacing it was that gut-wrenching guilt in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even describe the deep sadness that fell over him like a tsunami wave. Everything had come to deafening silence, like when he would dunk his head beneath water. Everything became muted… he was slipping again.

Changmin leaned his head against the back of the couch and let the tears trail down the sides of his face. He was trying to breathe—inhale, exhale, inhale—but he would only choke on the sounds of his sobs.

Gana crawled into his lap now, warm mass like a hug. It was the only thing grounding Changmin to reality now.

Do you even deserve to be happy? He wondered to himself, shifting to sit up and wipe the tears from his cheeks with the backs of his hands. Did you deserve to go out and be happy when Yn can’t?

Changmin swore under his breath, angrily pawing at his face again, willing the waterworks to stop. “God, stop crying, you fucking wimp,” he growled at himself.

It wouldn’t help; of course, it wouldn’t help.

His frame trembled and quaked and… and…

Changmin gently moved Gana off of his legs so he could make his way over to the little side table beside his TV. It used to be where he stashed yours and his favorite movies, video games, and board games. But now, it had become home to pictures of you and him, tealights, and your favorite plushie that he kept from when your parents asked to meet with him.

All of it. Why was it here if only to remind him of the person he treasured most lost to the cruel hand of fate?

He collapsed before the table, knees pressed between his body and the cold, hard ground. He clasped his hands together, tears pouring down his face. “If I could just see you again, Yn… just one more time,” he managed to choke out. “Just one more time. Please.” Would that even be enough?

DAY ONE

LIGHT filtered in through the shutters of the apartment windows and directly into Changmin’s eyes, but what woke him up was the incessant sound of Gana’s barking. Changmin groaned, body rolling around onto its side as he reached for his phone charging on the nightstand. It was ten in the morning, well past his first lecture of the day’s allotted time.

He sniffled, hand reaching up to gently touch his puffy eyelids. God, eight hours and he still woke up sore as—

“Jesus, it’s still a pigsty in here.”

Changmin froze. Gana kept barking.

He blinked. He must have been hearing things, because he couldn’t have just heard your voice say that from out in the living room.

Changmin shook his head. He really needed some coffee or something. Now he was hallucinating you? How much worse could his mental health get? Maybe he really should have accepted that offer from your parents when they’d asked him if they could pay for any counseling services he needed. He rose from the bed with a yawn, arms stretching up over his head.

Gana had stopped barking at this point, and Changmin mentally thanked whatever it was that was making his dog go mad for…

The thought ran dry in his head like words dying upon his tongue. He stepped over the threshold between his bedroom and the main living space, and his eyes landed on something awfully peculiar… Not something, rather someone. You. He was staring right at you leaning down to scratch Gana behind the ears.

His heart leapt into his throat and his eyes fluttered shut. This could not be happening.

“Holy shit!” Your exclamation made his eyes shoot open. You were gaping at him now as if you were surprised to see him. “You’re supposed to be at class!”

He couldn’t help but retort in his own defense, “And you’re supposed to be dead!” But here you were, in the flesh—in an old T-shirt from your high school Science Olympiad team and comfortable sweats—petting his dog.

Changmin grasped his bedroom door frame, free hand flying to hold his head. “Oh my god, I’m going insane. What was in that ice cream last night?”

There was no plausible reason for you to be standing in his living room right now. Not when you had been dead for an entire month. He had been at the funeral, had sobbed his heart out over the pile of dirt they’d shoveled over your grave. A prickling sensation came to the corners of his eyes and he willed himself to not start crying again. He didn’t even know he had tears left to cry after the session he’d had last night.

“Changmin.”

He shuddered.

Your voice was softer this time as you slowly moved away from Ghana. “Changmin, it’s Yn Ln. You know me.”

He peeked out from behind his hand and sniffled. Nevermind, he was definitely crying. “Stop,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Stop. This is just a figment of my imagination. Yn is not really here; she’s definitely—” His voice broke and he let go of the door jamb so he could bury his face into the palms of both of his hands. He let out a shaky breath. “I need coffee.”

He averted his eyes from looking in your direction as he shook some sense into his head and headed straight for the kitchen to start the coffee pot. He could hear Gana’s collar jingle as he bounded after him.

You could only stand there where you had been before and watch with sad eyes as he kept his back to you the entire time the coffee brewed.

One scaldingly bitter cup of brew later, Changmin leaned his back against the counter to face you. His face was set in a permanent grimace from the gross after taste of that hot bean juice, but the slight buzzing sensation at the back of his head was definitely a sign of alertness. Okay, now to solve all his problems.

“So you’re a ghost?” Were the first words from his mouth.

Your face dropped into a deadpan that was so you, Changmin almost broke out into hysterical giggles. “That’s your first question?”

“It’s a very valid question.”

You sighed. “Yes. Sure, I’m a ghost.”

He narrowed his eyes on you, lifting the mug in his hand to his lips, then frowning when he realized it was empty. “Okay, but how do I know you’re really Yn? How do I know you’re not just a projection of my crippling depression, and that you’re actually my Yn?” He didn’t know where the my had come from, but he was going a little too insane to care.

You made a face at him, nose wrinkling up cutely. He could see you in all the little mannerisms, and to be honest, he wouldn’t be surprised at all if you turned out to be simply a figment of his imagination because he knew you that well. He could probably resurrect you into an animated character if he knew how to animate in the first place. “Changmin, how am I supposed to prove to you I’m actually Yn? You can’t just recognize me?”

Maybe his brain was just tuning into work mode to block out all of the emotions. At the moment, he let his playful, curious side win his body over. “I dunno,” he grinned. “Ooh! What is my middle name?”

“You don’t have a middle name.”

“What is my favorite movie?” He stopped short, his pointer finger tapping his chin. “Wait, that’s too obvious. When’s my birthday?”

You squinted at him in disbelief. “So your favorite movie is too obvious, but your birthday, which is on your birth certificate, isn’t?”

He huffed. “Okay, what did I wear to Juyeon’s fourteenth birthday party then?”

Your hand moved to hold your forehead. “Changmin, how the fuck am I supposed to remember that.”

“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YN WOULD SAY!”

“THAT’S BECAUSE I AM YN, YOU IDIOT.”

When Changmin doubled over himself in laughter, your lips settled into a thin line. He thunked his mug onto the counter with a concerningly loud crash so he could brace himself against something with one hand. (Maybe he really was going insane.)

You fixed him with a look. “Are you done messing around, Ji Changmin?”

His eyes, squinting from all his laughter and the biggest grin on his face, twinkled from where he peered over the counter at you. The sight almost brought a smile back to your face. “You’re just fun to mess with, Yn-ie.”

———

Reality came crashing down on Changmin in as little as five minutes.

“So… you’re a ghost?”

This time, when he posed the question, it was smaller and mellow, his body settled onto the couch with his legs pulled up to his chest as he peered up at you through watery eyes and a childlike disposition. Gana had retreated into his bedroom to snuggle into his bedsheets, leaving only you and Changmin in the main living space. You were perched on the wooden coffee table across from where he sat on the couch. You didn’t have it in you to be annoyed at him when he looked so… looked so unlike himself. This wasn’t the Changmin you knew before: ballsy, smiley, unafraid. There was something so blanched about him, like he was washed over in some kind of filter. It was unnerving.

You bit your upper lip, hands drumming against your legs. “Yeah.”

He stared at you for a moment, then pointed at the TV remote next to you. “Move that.”

“Pardon?”

“Move it,” he repeated.

You moved it.

“Why aren’t you just phasing through shit if you’re a ghost?” He asked, hands tightening around his knees.

His logic, or well—some semblance of logic—was trying to help him process this, that much you understood. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I was literally just manifested here.”

“So you know you’re dead?”

You nodded. “I don’t know how long I’ve been dead for—”

“Three weeks and four days,” he blurted. He averted his gaze for a moment and picked at a stray thread on the couch. “Three weeks… and four days.”

And suddenly, you felt as though you reflected how he looked right now: eyes shining, frown engraved into your face. Your body went numb from the shock and the sudden realization that he had been counting. You swallowed. How were you supposed to comfort him through your own death?

“Can I hug you?”

Your head perked up and you met his small gaze again. You nodded. “Yeah,” you cleared your throat and held out your palms like an offering, “yeah, c’mere, Kyu.”

At the sound of his nickname, he practically pounced across the gap between you two, and into your arms. You were able to grab hold of him and keep your own body upright, and you felt him fist the material of your shirt in his hands as he sobbed into your chest. He could feel you, all of you—could smell your shampoo, feel the warmth of your neck. He could squeeze and grapple onto you as if you were truly here. God, what he would have given to hug you one last time. His knees were definitely bruised from how hard he hit the floor, but he had slid down far enough that he was clinging onto and crying into your stomach, all while one of your arms came around his top half and the other settled comfortably in the nest of his hair.

“I—” he blubbered into your dampened shirt, “—I missed you so much, Yn. I missed you so bad. I—I can’t—I don’t even know what to do without you. I missed you so, so badly.”

You squeezed him a little harder and leaned down to lay your body over his. “God, I’m sorry, Kyu. I missed you, too. You’ll be okay, hm? You’re gonna be okay.”

He shook his head against you in insistent refusal. “Mm-mm. No. Can’t do this fucking shit without you—can’t do this ‘live your life’ shit without my—my best friend.” He wasn’t even sure how he could manage to get words out. Even if he had known he would be given the opportunity to speak to you one last time, he wouldn’t ever be able to settle on the right words to tell you. This moment was no different. All that spilled from his mouth was nothing short of the truth, though.

———

Hours later, you and Changmin laid on the length of the couch with his face tucked into your neck and his body lying atop yours. You’d coaxed him to move with you onto the couch, knowing that his legs were probably screaming in agony for being pressed against the hardwood floor. He hadn’t said anything for a long time; only deigning to lay there in silence as he assured himself that you really were a solid mass beneath him. He came to realize one thing in particular, however—you lacked a heartbeat.

Everything about you seemed perfectly and incredibly human, except for that fact. He felt no pulse aching from where he nestled by your jugular. All of those crime dramas he’d spent hours upon hours watching with you had come in handy in learning how to feel for pulses. He tried to get past the fact that you didn’t have one; after all, you were dead.

His fingers wrapped around a strand of your hair, and he voiced a thought aloud, “Did they lock you out of heaven or something?”

Your laugh came out like a snort. “If anything, I was booted from hell.”

“Wow, so you died and gained a sense of humor.”

You flicked his forehead, and Changmin grinned, rubbing the spot. “Ow. Rude.”

“Bet you wish I could phase through things now, huh?”

He turned his face into your neck again and his voice came out nasally, “That would have been cooler.”

You huffed indignantly. “Don’t think I didn’t miss your little shrine of me, Mr. Cool Guy.”

Changmin groaned and hid his burning face from you. It was suddenly far too hot in this room, and your laughter was a little too bright to be a good representation of the dead. He grunted. “You died, Yn. What was I supposed to do?”

“You kept Bruno for me though,” you said with a soft sort of smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, making eye contact with the angry, little red t-rex plush sitting on the table by the TV. “He seems to like it here.”

“Do you like it here?” He asked then. “I mean, why are you here, Yn-ie? If—if you’re real, then why are you in the land of the living and fully corporeal?” He braced himself on the sides of the couch then so he could push up. When his eyes clashed with yours, he realized just how close your faces were, and reddened, immediately spacing himself from you to the other end of the couch.

You frowned slightly at the action, but thought nothing of it as you shifted to match his seated position. “I’m not sure. I just remember the accident, the world fading to black, and now…” You gestured to yourself and all around you. “Now I’m here.”

“How do you know things though? Like, how do you know you’re a ghost? How do you know you’ve been dead?”

You could only shrug. “Injected into my brain? Can’t really answer that, Changmin.”

Changmin raked a hand through his hair, licking his lips. “Okay, well you had to have been brought back here for a reason right? Maybe to right a wrong? Something you have to finish or satisfy before you’re allowed into the afterlife or whatever comes after death,” he reasoned with his hands gesticulating madly like flapping wings.

“I know that I have seven days,” you offered.

The world crumbled and the blood drained from his face. “Seven days?” He whispered.

You nodded solemnly. “Just one of those things,” your tone went quiet like an apology, “I guess.”

Changmin’s eyes shuddered. Seven days. Seven days. Seven… okay, he could do this. Seven days to think of all the things he was supposed to say to you and to finally say them. And also, to figure out why you were sent here in the first place. Who knew what would happen to you if you weren’t able to accomplish whatever goal you were supposed to reach? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Okay,” he managed to say.

“Well, I know where we should start,” you suggested with the slight lift of your shoulder.

He glanced at you in waiting.

“We need to clean this messy ass apartment up.”

DAY TWO

CHANGMIN couldn’t possibly sleep when he knew you were just waltzing about the apartment throughout the night. You had assured him that, as a ghost, you didn’t need to sleep, nor eat, nor breathe, nor shower, nor do anything else of the normal human sort. Yet he laid awake in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Even Gana was fast asleep, curled up at the foot of his bed.

The two of you had spent the entirety of yesterday cleaning up his dump of an apartment. You’d said something about how “spring cleaning isn’t just a spring thing” and handed him a duster. He’d gone along with it, even moving to eventually start playing some music to fill the noise. It was just nice to be in your presence for once.

Even when you were alive, you’d encourage him to clean; maybe even pick up around the place for him when he was too tired from dance practice and his job and his life. But there was no doubt that cleaning around the apartment space made him feel just a little bit refreshed, a little more alive and awake.

But clearly, all that work hadn’t been enough to tire him out.

And he tried to fall asleep, but sleep would not grace him with its mercy.

It was when the sky outside oxidized into a rusted color that his eyelids finally fell. He blinked once, and the next moment, his alarm blared beside him.

An arm shook him awake. “Kyu, wake up.”

He whined, shaking you away. “Nooo,” he groaned and tugged the covers back over his head. The alarm kept going.

“I made coffee.”

He exhaled through his nose and reluctantly pulled the covers down to see you. You were still here, sitting on the edge of his bed in that same, old ratty T-shirt with your hair falling in your eyes, and a sweet, fond smile on your face… “It wasn’t all a dream?” He pondered aloud, voice gravely from exhaustion.

You shook your head. “Nope. Now, get up. Time to go to school.”

At that note, he let out a loud groan, sweeping the covers over his head in protest. You laughed as you exited the room, and Changmin could only smile to himself as he let that sound echo in his ears.

———

“Do I really have to go to class, Yn-ie? It’s Tuesday.”

You sent him a look as you strolled beside him on the sidewalk. “Yes, because it’s Tuesday.”

Changmin pursed his lips as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. While you were able to get him out of bed, you weren’t able to get him to at least look more Changmin. That was, he still walked out of the house in a hoodie and pajama pants and zero product in his hair. You did manage to convince him to slap on deodorant, so you could call that a win.

The sky was just bruising to a purple color as the sun took its sweet time trekking up into its perch in the sky. Changmin knew he shouldn’t have chosen such an early lecture, but he and Juyeon were supposed to weather it together. Guilt suddenly swirled in his stomach at the thought—he’d abandoned Juyeon.

His eyes flickered back at you and your bare arms, wondering if ghosts got cold. But based on the fact you hadn’t stolen a hoodie from his closet, he figured they didn’t then.

As you and Changmin neared the lecture hall, having well stepped onto the college campus for the first time in a month, you both stalled. There were a handful of people milling about, but most of them were too tired to care about other people just standing around anyway.

“Okay,” you began, “remember that when you get in there, you can’t talk to me or about me.”

His breath hitched. “Why can’t I talk about you?”

“Because they’ll think you’ve gone crazy.”

“But I haven’t.”

You chewed your upper lip. “You can see me, Changmin, but they can’t. People are going to look at you weird if you suddenly turn to your side and start talking to the air next to you.”

So that was how ghosts worked? He had to snap his brain into focus. “People already look at me weird,” he muttered, staring across at the path to the entrance of the lecture hall. He could still recall all of the pitying looks he’d received everywhere he went. He couldn’t stomach it anymore. Everyone knew that you and he had been the best of friends, practically attached at the hip. You would sit with him through hours of dance practice and be the loudest one in the audience; he would remind you to get sleep during your worst exam seasons and shuttle you home after late nights at the lab.

His eyes shuttered, and for a moment, that wave of guilt washed over him. He should have been there that night; he should’ve been there to take you home—

A hand on his arm. He sniffed, swiping at his eye. “I’m okay,” he insisted before you could say anything.

He began making his way towards the entrance with you in tow.

When he found the lecture room number, he stopped just short of it. Those feelings of insecurity and fear bubbled up inside of him like bile in his throat. He wanted to turn back and run to the safety and seclusion of his apartment.

But when he felt your hand take his and give it a gentle squeeze, his heart swelled. He glanced back at you, then his eyes widened when he saw someone coming down the corridor. Changmin ducked into the lecture hall, his hand gripping yours tightly.

There were… way too may seats and people, he realized, as he surveyed the room. A couple people recognized him and shot him surprised glances, but otherwise, no one paid him much attention. The lights were dimmed to half-brightness, and the professor had yet to arrive.

“Go sit next to Juyo,” you whispered to him, nudging him toward the left stairs. Up in one of the middle rows sat Juyeon with a hood pulled up over his head, practically nodding off to sleep. “He looks so sad all alone.”

Changmin sucked in a breath, then made the journey up the stairs.

He cleared his throat when he reached Juyeon’s seat, the one beside him always left empty in case Changmin ever did show up to class. Juyeon’s head shot up, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers, a grin slowly forming on his face. Changmin let a small, dimpled smile come to his face.

“I think I’m dreaming, dude,” Juyeon said. “Good to have you back, Changmin-ah.”

Changmin let out the breath he had been holding. “This seat’s not taken, is it?”

Juyeon gave a hard shake of his head. “I’d make a joke about it being some other guy’s, but I’m way too tired. Sit down, for God’s sake.”

Changmin lowered himself into the seat next to his friend, letting go of your hand so he could get settled. He almost turned his head to ask where you were going to sit, but reigned in the urge. He could talk to you afterward, no matter how much he wanted to talk to you now, maybe even ask Juyeon to move down a seat for you.

But then he felt your presence right next to him as you perched on the side of his chair’s armrest. No, you weren’t going anywhere just yet.

About an hour later though, Changmin and Juyeon trudged out of the lecture hall side by side, hands lifting to shield their eyes from the sunlight peeking through the clouds. They had managed to drag each other through the contents of that lecture—mainly Juyeon giving Changmin miniature summary lectures on the points that he didn’t know (everything). No new information from that lecture had been acquired.

“—you should’ve seen when we got our papers back,” Juyeon shook his head with a breathy laugh tumbling out of his mouth. He brushed a hand through his hair, squinting at the daylight. “Absolute madhouse. Professor had to extend his office hours because the line out of his office was so long.”

Changmin smiled widely. “I really should go to office hours, huh? That would be the smart thing to do.”

“You know, I tell myself that everyday, and yet…” Juyeon shrugged. “I never heed my own advice.”

When the two of them reached the intersection where you and Changmin had stood at just earlier this morning, Changmin’s head perked up, eyes searching for you. At some point, it had slipped his mind that you were in lecture with him, and you hadn’t done or said anything to make him remember. He looked across the street though and relief soared through him when he spotted you seated on a bench waiting for him.

Juyeon followed his gaze curiously, but thought better than to question the soft-cornered smile on his friend’s face. “Hey, uhm, did you feel up to having lunch with me and the others today? I’ve gotta go to my social justice lecture right now, but we’re hitting the new ramen place in the district at like, one, I think.”

Changmin snapped back to reality. “Oh, uh…” His eyes drifted back to you, but you were looking elsewhere at a couple who were passing by walking their pups. His foot tapped against the ground as he seesawed between options. Did he feel up to it?

“You don’t have to if you want to go home,” Juyeon assured him with a sympathetic smile. “You should go home and rest.”

Changmin licked his lips. A part of him realized that he was glad Juyeon had been the one to say it. “Sorry, I just…”

“Hey, today was a lot. Don’t sweat it, okay?” Juyeon then gently patted Changmin’s arm with his hand as he turned to head down the road toward his next class. “See you later?”

“Yeah, see you, Ju.”

Something poked at the back of Changmin’s mind as he ducked his head slightly and bounded across the street to where you were seated. He lifted his hand in a subtle wave to you, then nodded toward the road back to his apartment to make a more natural course of action for any onlookers. You fell into step beside him as easily as breathing air.

“How come you didn’t want to go have lunch with the guys?” You piped up.

“Huh? Oh.” Changmin kicked a pebble on the road with the side of his shoe and watched it bounce into the grass next to the sidewalk. “I wanted to spend time with you—Wait, you heard that conversation?”

You tapped the side of your head as if that was enough of an explanation to his question, then moved on. “But you get to spend time with me whenever you’re at the apartment. How long has it been since you last hung out with them?”

“Two days ago, actually. The night before you showed up, we had dinner.”

“Did you enjoy it?” You asked.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, stopping at the traffic intersection to wait for the walking sign to turn on. “I mean, yeah. Yes, I did. I just—afterwards—it was…” He could hear his own sobbing echo in his head, and as if he had projected those memories into your head or as if you could read his mind, your expression grew somber. Changmin’s voice quieted, for fear that adding volume would push out the emotions all over again. “It was really hard, Yn. All I did was cry when I got back.”

You moved closer to him and offered your hand to him. The crosswalk symbol lit up white, and Changmin took your hand as the two of you made your way across the street. “I’m sorry,” was all you could manage to say.

“‘s not your fault,” he replied. He couldn't possibly blame you for your own accidental death. You hadn’t forced that guy to get drunk and drive down that specific road. You had no choice in your death, and for some reason, that made Changmin’s chest hurt just a little more. “I liked having dinner with them and I think I genuinely laughed and smiled for the first time in a while, too, but I just…”

He grappled for the words, unable to admit the truth aloud.

“Kyu-ah,” you said to him, hand-holding shifting to you holding onto his upper arm so the two of you walked closer in a half-embrace. “You can be happy. You’re allowed to feel these things, and you’re allowed to smile and laugh.”

He shook his head, his head tilting back as his eyes closed. The prickling sensation had come back and goddamn it, he didn’t want to cry again. He had to make it back to the apartment at least. “Not without you.”

You frowned, but kept quiet until the two of you reached Changmin’s apartment. He dumped his shoes at the door, backpack thumping to the floor, body crashing onto the couch. You settled down onto the cushion next to him, and he nestled his head onto your shoulder.

“Kyu, can you do something for me?”

He hummed, arms encircling your arm like you had done to him on the walk back. “Anything.”

“Will you go to lunch with Juyeon, Kevin, and Chanhee? Will you at least try for me?”

Changmin stared at your portrait, the one across from his eyes on that little table by the TV. Yours and his smiles were a reflection of each other, framed in eternity behind that clear plastic. He gulped. “Okay. I will.”

DAY THREE

LUNCH yesterday went perfectly well, mainly because you stood behind Changmin’s chair the entire time with your hand on his shoulder to assure him that you were still present and “hanging out” with all of them, too. You appreciated the thought, but you appreciated seeing and hearing him happy. Even if it was at poor Chanhee’s expense (he really had dug himself into a hole when he confessed his crush on one of his peers at the university’s magazine association). It was nice to see everyone, too, of course, even if they weren’t aware that you were watching over them with a fond gaze. As a ghost, you could still feel emotions—that was why you were so human to Changmin, but there was still a sense of ease about you.

When Changmin had finished with his classes for today, you and he lingered in the kitchen while he heated up a pot of ramen on the stove. You hopped onto the counter, arm resting comfortably around his shoulders.

“I’ve connected the dots,” he said suddenly.

“You’ve connected shit.”

He scoffed with a feigned look of offense directed up at you as he pressed his hand to his chest. “Okay, rude! Death has given you so much audacity.”

Your lips curled up into a little smirk. “It’s just an instinct when it comes to you.”

Changmin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. As I was saying, I think I know why you were kicked from the underworld.”

“You say that like the underworld’s an online forum,” you huffed, chuckling. When the pot reached a low boiling point, you tapped him on the shoulder to spur him into action, and he reacted like second nature, even if he had seen that it was ready anyway.

“Hey, I mean, if I had an online forum, I’d kick you out, too.” He giggled as you gently kicked the side of his butt with your foot. “Remember when we were eleven and we thought Omegle was the greatest thing of our naive lives?”

You hummed in content remembrance. “Mhm. Man, we were stupid. But that was a lot of fun.”

He grinned at you over his shoulder. “Wasn’t it?” When he turned back to the pot, he realized how hard his smile pulled at his cheeks. This wouldn’t be forever. Today was day three, and he was already growing used to your presence again—for a split second, panic seized his heart and the smile slipped into the simmering ring of bubbles in the ramen pot.

Changmin cleared his throat. “So what I was saying earlier.”

You blinked at his sudden change of tone. “What about it?”

“Maybe you were sent back here on a mission or a task. You probably have to right some kind of wrong—or, or—or figure out your death?” He whipped out a bowl from a cabinet. “So what did you do wrong, Yn-ie?”

You smiled, amused. “How long do we have?”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “You’re so silly. You were the goodiest-two-shoes of all goodie-two-shoes.”

You scoffed. “Not true.”

“Oh, yes, true,” he quipped with a smug grin. He leaned back against the counter to face you with a full bowl of noodles in his palm. “The guilt after you snuck out with me ate you up alive—”

“Because I broke my parents’ trust!” You sputtered out in protest. You thrusted an accusing finger in his face that only sent him into further fits of laughter. “You’re so lucky I didn’t spill to your parents, Ji Changmin! You should be on your knees because I begged my mom and dad not to tell your parents!”

Changmin had to hold his chopsticks in front of his mouth to keep the food from flying from his mouth. You were fired up, yet all he could see was how the kitchen lights framed your face like a halo. Once the food had been swallowed, he replied, “I feel like I just have to ask: you weren’t a serial killer, were you? Since we’re on the topic of all your wrongdoings.”

Your eyes widened, and in that moment, he knew he was screwed. “Ji. Changmin.”

He giggled. “Don’t hurt me?”

You huffed, nose twitching and wrinkling. “You are so lucky I’m a good ghost.”

The reminder sobered him up a little. “Yeah…” He said quietly.

Silence descended between the two of you as you refrained from saying anything else, so Changmin could finish eating. You hopped off of the counter and went to go find Gana, who was sleeping in Changmin’s bed again. Changmin was left to his noodles and thoughts, his stare blank and spaced out with his mind far off. If you truly had been sent back in order to right a wrong, or even figure out something about your death, then where would he start? Where would you be expected to start if you didn’t have him to help you?

When you were still alive, he was aware of a few nasty people in your lives who weren’t exactly fond of the relationship you two shared, but as far as Changmin knew, their feelings weren’t malicious to the point of death.

Changmin swallowed a bite he was chewing on, mouth slowing as if his train of thought had just eased into the station. All mysteries began from the end, didn’t they? All detectives had to start their investigation from the scene of the crime, whatever that may be when put into context. His hands began to tremble as a thought occurred to him. Clutching the bottom of the bowl and his chopsticks harder to stop the shaking, Changmin forced himself to admit what he didn’t want to.

You emerged from his bedroom cradling Gana in your arms, and when your eyes fell upon Changmin’s grave expression, you couldn’t help but coax an answer from him.

He couldn’t meet your eyes. “I think… we have to go to the site of the accident.”

———

On the night of the Accident, you had been walking home with crisp night air nipping at your nose, your cheeks, your resolve. It hadn’t necessarily been the worst of nights at your shift, but it hadn’t been on the better side of them either. Earlier that day, Changmin had nearly collapsed from exhaustion on the way home, so you insisted on walking home alone. It wasn’t like he could refuse when he pretty much knocked out as soon as his head hit his pillow; plus, your pepper spray made for decent company. You hadn’t anticipated the driver, the screaming tire wheels, the blinding lights. After all, how could you have?

The corner of two streets on the opposite side of campus from where Changmin lived was pindrop quiet. There was one large, framed portrait of you seated against the fence, surrounded by a litter of flowers, tealights, plush toys, and other offerings to the dead. One of your friends from an art class you’d taken in freshman year had made you a sign and nailed it above your picture: In fond and loving memory of Yn Ln—beautiful, beloved, and a heart of gold. May she rest in peace.

Changmin couldn’t move.

He’d been staring at it all for about ten minutes now, shaky hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie. The last time he’d been here was four weeks ago, in the ungodly hours of the morning, as he chased after your body in a bag, tears flying from his eyes like gushing streams. The red and blue sirens flashed in his eyes and pulsed like heartbeats; his own heartbeat deafened out everything else and thundered in his ears.

Just like now. He… he couldn’t think—couldn’t process anything. He couldn’t turn himself to the street where your broken, lifeless body had laid.

Your smiling portrait glowed in the dim, flickering lights of the tea candles, similar to the very set up he had at home.

For the longest time, he was never able to bring himself to come here. He couldn’t have, of course, he couldn’t have. He didn’t have the stomach to.

Oh my god, he was going to throw up—

“Changmin, hey—hey, buddy. You’re gonna be okay.”

You appeared at his side, hands grabbing out to hold onto his lurching body. He stumbled into you, grappling at your hands, arms, shoulders—anything to anchor him to something. He couldn’t breathe—

“Changmin, look at me! Look at me.”

Your hands forced his head up and his eyes gleamed silver in the gold tea light glow. You had never seen him so afraid. “Inhale, exhale for me. Inhale… exhale… come on; one more time, hon: inhale… exhale… good. Good. That’s really good, Kyu, that’s it.”

Changmin’s entire body trembled as he gripped your hands until, even as a ghost, you could feel his strength. His chest rose and fell at a slower pace now, and the blanched, blankness had melted away into a contorted expression of rage, sadness, panic, and every other emotion in between. Tears cascaded down the slopes of his cheeks in a free fall. “I should have been there, Yn,” were his first words to you, choked out between gritted teeth.

You realized that his anger was not directed toward anyone else but himself at this moment. You held him, mirrored his strength, so he knew he was holding something solid. You murmured firmly, but not unkindly, “Changmin, you couldn’t have changed what hap—”

“Yes, I could have.” He wailed now, his heart-wrenching loathing toward himself echoing against the surrounding buildings, “If I had just been there to walk you home…” You would still be alive, was what he didn’t have the strength to say aloud. To give the world such power over him… as if it didn’t already have him by his neck.

He crumpled to the concrete, his knees buckling from under him, and you could do nothing but fall to the ground with him. You cradled him to your chest as he bawled his entire body out, his conscience no doubt throwing rocks at himself. Your mouth parted, eyes squinting as if you were about to cry, too. And you felt the sensation at the corners of your eyes, and yet, no tears fell from your tear glands. They would not come, no matter how much you wished them to.

Changmin’s arms wrapped around your waist as he tucked himself into you. If he could just—if he could just hold on—if he could just make this right—

Your hand smoothed over the back of his head. “Changmin, it was not your fault. None of it was your fault, so please—please don’t spend your life blaming yourself for something you could not control.”

He pawed at his face, swiped at his eyes, his nose. He sucked in a desperate breath of air, gasping and choking out the words, “I can’t—can’t believe that—that I—I’ll never see you again. The—the world lost you—I lost you too soon.” He gasped for air again: “It’s not fair.”

None of it was fair. Changmin didn’t deserve to feel any of this and you didn’t deserve to die so young. But here the two of you were, a heap of emotions and injustice. Of longing and grief. What might have blossomed to something else in the future had been cut short by the cruel hand of fate. Why had the world set this in motion? What had either of you done to deserve such hurt?

You cleared your congested throat from unshed tears. “I know it’s not fair, but I’m never truly lost.”

Changmin pulled away from you then, still actively trying to tame the emotion rolling down his face. He glared at you then through blurry eyes. Such pain in his contorted features; you hated seeing him so hurt and being so useless to help him. “Cut the sentimental, cliche crap,” he practically snarled. “Please, you know me better than that. I never get why people say shit like that because that’s not how it goes, that’s not how it feels. It’s not the fucking same.”

Your mouth went dry. He was right, and how could you counter that? You weren’t the one who had to live without him now. “You’re right; I’m sorry.”

He was breathing loudly now, more labored. His rage dulled to something of a soft simmer as it dawned on him what he just said. “Wait—I’m sorry. You… you shouldn’t be the one apologizing, Yn. You didn’t deserve that from me.”

“I think I did deserve it,” you shrugged simply, sadly. Just because you were dead didn’t mean you couldn’t be sorry. “And I think you deserved to air that out.”

He sniffed and pulled his knees to his chest. He huffed out an exhale. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a lot.”

You nodded, expression solemn. “And I’m sorry that you’re hurting so badly. I wish I could make everything better.” What was the point of you being here if you were just hurting Changmin more?

Changmin let out another sharp exhale. Slowly, he extended his hand across the gap between you. His fingers still trembled, but he no longer tried to subdue it. “Can I just hold your hand again?” His volume was set almost inaudibly, “Just to assure myself I haven’t been dreaming?”

Everything, you wished you could give him everything. Without hesitation, you bridged the gap and grappled onto his fingers, felt the heat of his palm, and reminded him that you were here.

DAY FOUR

YOU almost couldn’t convince Changmin to go to classes the next day. Almost.

You’d sent him off even as he drooped with his two shots of espresso and puffy eyelids, but he seemed content enough to let you hold his hand all throughout the day. Maybe even tap his shoulder a couple of times to remind him that you were there and that he needed to pay attention. Well, you’d only accomplished such feats because you agreed to his compromise.

“Changmin, you can’t get in without a lab pass.”

Said compromise was chasing after something you were certain didn’t truly exist, but Changmin was set on the idea that you were sent back to the land of the living to “right a wrong”, and he was on a mission to help you accomplish just that.

Changmin stood outside the laboratory building you used to work at with a cinematically narrow-eyed, hands-on-hips pose. He stared up at the looming building, nestled between the massive, glass-faced population health building and the vine-riddled biology buildings as if he could climb up all their stairways without breaking a sweat. “I know, but I’m sure we’ll bump into someone who we can just leech off of to get inside.”

In other words, he would make you both wait until someone came by to open the door and you would then follow them inside. At first listen, it wasn’t an impossible task, especially since this area was relatively populated during business hours. Only, it seemed that the street seemed comically barren. Wherever all your former peers were, you had zero clue.

You pursed your lips and took a seat down on the curb. “Do you even have a plan?”

Changmin poked his tongue in the side of his cheek. “Ha, do I have a plan?”

“Sooo you don’t have a plan; got it—”

“Sh,” he said, turning around to peer inside the glass door of the laboratory building, “someone’s coming!”

You twisted around, silently questioning who?, but as soon as you saw who was making their way toward the entrance of the building, you immediately bobbed your head. This made sense.

Because making his way toward the door from the inside was Lee Sangyeon, your workaholic, grad student supervisor. As usual, he wore a dress shirt appropriate for an office space, hair swept back neatly. In his hands was his phone, while a dark leather satchel bag hung from his shoulder. He glanced up from his phone as he pushed the door open, then started when he realized Changmin was just… there.

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t see you there,” Sangyeon said with a polite smile.

“Uh—wait,” Changmin stammered, effectively halting Sangyeon’s movements. “You’re Lee Sangyeon, right?”

Your eyes widened. “You know Sangyeon?”

Changmin flicked his hand by his leg subtly to gesture at you to wait.

Sangyeon angled his body toward Changmin now, the tilt of his eyebrows curious. “Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you with something?”

Changmin fidgeted with his fingers and rocked on his heels. “Uhm, you were a friend of Yn Ln’s, right? I’m Ji Changmin, she was my best friend.”

At the sound of your name, recognition and something melancholy smoothed over Sangyeon’s features. “Ah, nice to finally meet you, Changmin. Yn-ie used to talk about you all the time.”

“She did?”

“No, I didn’t!” You buried your face into your hands as embarrassment curled in your stomach. “Sangyeon has become a chronic liar, I see!”

Another flicking of Changmin’s fingers. Hush, you! “I actually wanted to talk to you,” Changmin said slowly, “about her. I… I’m trying to uh, piece together some parts of her life, y’know. And I know I wasn’t really able to get to know this aspect of her life much when she was alive, and I thought, better late than never.”

You settled your chin onto your knees. Even if you knew Changmin had an ulterior motive in mind, you couldn’t help but hear the truth laced in his words. Even if he was chasing after this “wrong that needed righting”, there was that twinge of desperation locked in his voice that you couldn’t shake.

“Ah.” Sangyeon nodded. “Well, I’d be happy to talk to you about her. Do you wanna come with me down the road? There’s a pretty neat little coffee place we could sit in.”

You knew this coffee place, you thought to yourself as you followed Sangyeon and Changmin down the road to said coffee shop. It was the place you ran to during dinner breaks and last minute caffeine pick-me-ups. Their banana bread was fantastic, and your mouth watered as you could practically taste it while walking in.

Once the boys were settled at a table, a cup of coffee each, you leaned against the window behind Changmin’s chair, arms crossed and eyes pinned to the steam rising from Sangyeon’s cup.

“I’m sorry for your loss, by the way,” Sangyeon said quietly, sincerely. “I mean, she was important to me, but she must have been so much more to you.”

Changmin gestured vaguely, half-heartedly. His chuckle was the same way. “You don’t have to do that; she’s—was—she was important to both of us.” He nursed his coffee cup between his palms. “Sorry, it’s taken me a while to get the courage to talk about her to anyone but my dog.”

Sangyeon’s eyes shone with that characteristic warmth and patience that made you long for the life you didn’t have anymore. “I… I get that. It’s really tough dealing with the death of a loved one, especially when people expect you to move on with your life.”

Changmin’s head bobbed up and down earnestly. “It really is. It’s so, god, it’s so hard to move on.” He drummed his fingers along the sides of his coffee cup. “Uhm, but I guess I wanted to start with how you knew her—as in, like who did you know her as?”

“Who did I know her as?” Sangyeon sighed, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he grappled for the adequate way to string those thoughts into words. “Well, she was brilliant. She was more than brilliant; she was passionate about what she did. You could see the bags under her eyes and sometimes I knew she took naps in the break room, but…” He blew out a puff of air, his cheek pressed against his fist and coffee forgotten. He lifted his right shoulder in some semblance of a shrug. “I admired her a lot. I didn’t get to work a lot of shifts with her that… that week, but she left these little post-it notes on the break room door with smiley-faces and encouraging messages for everyone to find the next day.”

This time, when you settled your hand on Changmin’s shoulder, it wasn’t for Changmin. Changmin reached up to put his hand over yours, but to anyone else it would look like he was simply holding his shoulder and tucking his chin into his elbow. “Sounds like Yn-ie,” he chimed in softly.

Sangyeon smiled, a breathy laugh following suit. “She was—she shined so bright, Changmin-ah. But I’m guessing you already knew that, huh? She talked about you a lot. She would hear something or do something that reminded her of you, and then she would mention you with that little twinkle in her eyes. The one where she gets all—y’know.”

Changmin inclined his head and felt himself smile. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

A nod. “Yeah. I was kind of surprised that you didn’t introduce yourself as her former partner. I mean, the way she looked when she talked about you…” He shook his head and reached for his coffee cup. “God, sorry. This is probably making you really uncomfortable.”

You lost your breath. Or whatever you had left of it.

Changmin’s thumb brushed over the back of your knuckles. You didn’t know what it meant, didn’t know what he was thinking. You knew you talked about Changmin a lot, but you figured that everyone would assume it was normal because he was your closest friend. Perhaps you had been a little more obvious than you had intended.

“It’s all right,” Changmin replied. You wished you could see his face. “I think a lot of people saw us that way.”

———

Sangyeon’s cup clattered hollowly as it tumbled into the recycling bin on his and Changmin’s way out of the coffee shop. The sky had broiled to a molten gold while the sun began its descent into the folds of the horizon.

Changmin stepped out into the cool afternoon feeling like a weight had been lifted from his chest. There was something refreshing about hearing about you from someone else, as fondly as he saw you. He and Sangyeon had even shared a couple favorite moments of yours; Changmin kept his favorite of all favorites to himself though, of course. Some memories, he wanted to be selfish with. Tears had been shed, too, but a minimal amount. Changmin wasn’t one to cry to strangers, but Sangyeon wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore, was he?

Sangyeon lingered on the sidewalk. “It was really nice talking to you, Changmin-ah. I really needed that, I think.”

Changmin nodded his head. “Me too. Thanks for not being weird about it.”

“Bare minimum, man,” Sangyeon chuckled. He took his phone out of his pocket and offered the new contact space to Changmin. “Hey, maybe we can trade numbers? Any friend of Yn-ie’s is a friend of mine. If you need anything, Changmin, and I truly mean it, don’t hesitate to call or text.”

Changmin accepted the phone from him with his eyes wide like a doe’s. He hoped Sangyeon could see all the gratitude in his silver-lined eyes. “Thank you,” he said in earnest. “I—same to you.” He swiftly put his contact information into Sangyeon’s phone before returning the device to its owner.

Sangyeon mustered up a kind smile, clasping a warm, reassuring hand on Changmin’s shoulder. “Stay strong. You’ll get through this; I know you can.”

Oh god, there was that prickling sensation again. Changmin could only manage a nod without breaking down right then and there in the middle of the walkway. Sangyeon seemed to understand, and took his leave.

Changmin stood there watching his back go farther and farther away.

For a moment, he let himself stand there in silence, soaking in everything that had just passed between him and Lee Sangyeon. He sniffled, knuckles pressing against his nose. “He’s a really cool guy,” he finally said with his words directed toward you.

You were leaning up against the outer facade of the coffee shop, uncertain as to what your role was supposed to be. You felt like you were intruding, like you really were just a ghost now. That you were just a spectator. There was definitely something beautiful about watching two important people in your past life starting a bond, but then… then there was something bittersweet about it, too. “He is,” you agreed.

Changmin hung his head, then raised it up with a tired, dimpled smile. “Let’s go home.”

DAY FIVE

TODAY, Chanhee was the one who got Changmin out of the apartment.

“—I even got Gana a play date—”

Changmin’s neck stuck out from his bathroom, toothbrush hanging from between his teeth. “Huh?!”

Even you spared a laugh from where you were sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter. It was a comical sight for Changmin, seeing that you were making weird, funny faces at the back of Chanhee’s head from where he sat on the couch with Ghana curled up in his lap.

Chanhee nodded enthusiastically. “Yup. Him and my friend Younghoon’s dog Bori. He’s taking them to a dog park nearby.”

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “So you set up Gana on a blind date?”

“You’re so overprotective, Changmin-ah. Yes, it’s a blind date.” Chanhee waved his hand at Changmin. “Now hurry up! Juyeon and Kevin are already at the performing arts building trying to score a studio!”

Changmin huffed, but stalked back into the bathroom. “Fine.”

While Changmin was finishing up getting himself ready, Chanhee gently removed Ghana from his lap so he could trudge over to the little table beside the TV. You watched him quietly as he knelt in front of it, poked your T-rex plushie, then gave your portrait a small wave.

You craned your head, attempting to see what he was doing. He had picked up one of the tea lights that went dim, most likely from overuse and a dead battery. Chanhee set it back down on the table though.

“Hi, Yn-ie,” you heard him greet your photo. “I see Changmin has dedicated a corner to you, as he should.” Chanhee was silent for a moment, and you thought that maybe he was only voicing his thoughts in his head now. Then he continued, “I miss you. We all miss you. Sometimes I dream about memories of you and it feels like déjà vu. We’ve been trying to help Changmin through this, but it’s been a little difficult getting through to him.”

Your chest tugged as Chanhee slumped his chin onto the ledge of the table. “I just wanna help him. I can see he’s hurting, but I’ve never been good at this stuff. Maybe you can send me a sign that I’m doing okay.”

The light to the bathroom clicked, and Chanhee murmured something else to your picture, blew you a kiss, then turned his head to watch Changmin sweep past him and into the bedroom.

“Let me grab my jacket and we can go!”

“Okay, you slowpoke,” Chanhee quipped, collapsing back onto the couch.

You hopped off from the kitchen counter and walked over toward the couch next to Chanhee. You called out to Gana, immediately garnering a response from the pup. Swiftly, you moved out of the way, hand gesturing to Chanhee on the couch.

As if Gana could read your mind, he leapt into Chanhee’s lap and licked a wet stripe up the man’s cheek.

Chanhee squealed in surprise, a laugh falling from his grinning smile. “Yah! You’re so full of energy this morning, hm? Well, save some for Bori later, okay?”

You smiled, watching the interaction and hoping that that might suffice as a sign.

Changmin hustled out of his room, and you came to the startling realization that he looked so… Changmin today. There was a glow about his cheeks now, the divots of his smile enunciated at the thought of dancing again. He wore something fashionable, as he had always once done, with his black athletic duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He met your gaze as he walked out and you shared a smile for a moment.

“I know I’m pretty, Changmin, but we’re going to be late,” Chanhee teased.

Both you and Changmin laughed, and the two of you followed Chanhee and Gana out to the car.

Gana had propped himself onto the center console of Chanhee’s silver Corolla, while Chanhee and Changmin took up the front two rows, and you sat in the backseat. You leaned your head against the back of Changmin’s seat and gazed out the window at the world passing you by, your hand reaching forward to hold onto Changmin’s.

Chanhee stopped at a nearby park, and after Changmin insisted he was going to stay in the car, Chanhee took Gana out to meet with this Younghoon character and his dog.

The car filled with silence for a beat as the two of you watched Chanhee walk up to a tall, lanky man with a pretty face and pretty pup.

“You haven’t danced since I died, have you?” You released the question into the world and confronted him with it.

Changmin swallowed, his fingers pressing into yours. “No.” In retrospect, maybe if he had continued to dance, he wouldn’t have been holed up at home. A flame in him had died the night you had, but the remaining embers were slowly catching fire again. They hadn’t been wholly swept out or quieted.

Chanhee skipped back over to the car with a boyish smile on his face and he crashed into his front seat with a laugh. “Okay, let’s go!”

The car was turned on, the radio resumed play.

———

Like any other day, especially Fridays, the performing arts building was abuzz with life. People, both solo and squadrons, came to and fro about the large, branching corridors. A smile crawled onto Changmin’s lips as he recalled the familiar route to the practice dance studios in the back half of the building. There was a bounce in his step now, hands gripping the strap of his duffle bag.

Chanhee nudged Changmin with the back of his hand, coughing not-so-quietly under his breath. “Incoming.”

Changmin perked up at the familiar warning. He hadn’t heard it in a little over a month, but the feeling of cold shivers down his arms was no stranger. And the group of girls making their way down the corridor toward them, having just finished with dance practice, were unfortunately no strangers either. Changmin’s mouth pressed into a firm line as he reached out beside him for your hand—fumbled around in the air as if you weren’t there for a second, then latched onto you.

“Changmin-ah!” One of them lit up at the sight of him, and the rest were set off like succeeding lines of firecrackers.

“Well, this should be good,” you mused next to him.

He snuck a glance at you from his periphery, spotted the carefully crafted mask on your face. Even in death, you were trying to put up a brave front.

He turned back to the front, and the group of girls had come closer. “Oh, uh, hi.”

“We haven’t seen you in so long! How have you been?”

“We missed you at the dance rehearsal last week, but we can definitely reschedule.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing a private—”

Changmin blinked. Did they not see how absolutely done he looked? Chanhee looked just about the same way, but he knew the drill; there wasn’t really anything either of them could do until they’d said whatever they said.

“—so sorry about her. It must have been so difficult for you to get through, Changmin-ah! But see, you must be all better now!”

He nearly doubled over in laughter. “You’re shitting me,” he said without stopping himself.

The girl who had been rambling on about your death and how it must have affected him, halted in her tracks. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Tongue in cheek, he shook his head. “No, whatever. Keep going. I wanna hear what you have to say.” The muscle in his jaw feathered and his grip on your hand tightened.

To the others’ credit, they tried subtly getting their friend to not take the bait, but she just couldn’t help herself. “Well, it’s no disrespect or anything, of course. But she was completely holding you back, y'know? She didn’t even know what to look for when she watched your practices and she just sat there like a duck, so I don’t know why you even asked her to come with you so often. I mean, you guys were friends—I get that—but we’re friends, too. I would’ve definitely been able to help you so much better.”

Well. That spelled it all out for Changmin in capital letters.

Chanhee arched an eyebrow high. “Wow, you’re a worse human being than I gave you credit for.”

“It’s funny how whenever people say they mean ‘no disrespect’, whatever they say is extremely disrespectful,” Changmin huffed. His eyes narrowed into daggers now, hands fisted. “You not only spat on my best friend, but also on me and my ability to choose friends. By the way, we are not friends, especially not when you shit on mine right in front of me. Dead or not.”

When a rush of silence fell over the corridor, Changmin muttered, “Thought so,” then nudged Chanhee. “Come on, Chanhee. Let’s go.”

When the two boys brushed past the girls, Changmin finally breathed out.

When he no longer felt your hand, his head whipped around the corridor, searching for you—

“Changmin, the room’s this way.”

He coughed. “Oh, uh, right.” His eyes swiveled about the corridor once more, frowning when he caught you slipping into the practice room right behind Chanhee.

The practice room was dimly lit with the far wall lined with mirrors and a barre, floors made of a smooth hardwood. Kevin and Juyeon were by the large speaker in the corner trying to hook up one of their laptops to the sound system. They glanced up and saw both Changmin and Chanhee coming into the room, then lifted their hands in cheerful waves.

“Hey! Glad you guys are finally here,” Kevin exclaimed.

Chanhee snorted, dumping his bag in his usual corner. “We just had a showdown in the hallway.”

Kevin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh?”

“They were disrespecting Yn,” Changmin shrugged stiffly. He walked over to his own corner, where you were already seated against the wall, and dropped his bag down next to you. He held your eye contact as he said, “They deserved it.”

Juyeon whistled lowly. “I’m sure they did. Wow, the fucking audacity. Do they just lack human decency?”

Kevin pursed his lips. “Apparently.”

“Fucking incredible.”

Chanhee shrugged his jacket off, eyeing the dark look still present in the shadows cast over Changmin’s face. Or maybe it was just the lighting. “Okay, let’s get started, shall we? Changmin, warm us up.”

———

Practice progressed smoothly.

You always liked Changmin’s corner of the room—definitely not because his duffle bag was here (because lord did that thing smell some days), but because it had the best view. (Of Changmin.) From here, even on the floor, you could observe his sharp, calculated movements, the graceful way in which he knew how to use his body and draw art in the air.

It seemed that the harder the choreography was, the more sweat he perspired, the harder he breathed, and the bigger he smiled. It was hard work like this that made his heart full, and thus, made you happy.

Occasionally, he would pass looks over to your corner, always looking for you and your reactions (maybe even your approval). He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do when this was all over, but… he wasn’t going to think about that quite yet. He didn’t want to give that thought time to sink in.

The music blasted throughout the room louder than your own thoughts when Chanhee threw his head back and declared a break.

Everyone retreated to their separate corners, and Changmin, sweat dripping down his bangs and the side of his face like he’d just showered, came over to you. He leaned down and swept his water bottle out from his bag and guzzled the water down as fast as his throat could accept it.

“Tired?” You asked him quietly as he wiped his mouth with the collar of his shirt.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah.”

Changmin dropped his bottle onto his bag, exchanging it instead for his phone. “Are you okay? From earlier, I mean.”

“Oh. Those girls? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

His mouth curled into a frown. “What they said—”

“—Can only hurt the living,” you said, brushing it off.

“Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t still hurt.” Changmin lowered himself beside you now, only stealing glances at you so he didn’t look weird to everyone else. “They didn’t say anything to you when you were alive, did they?”

Your blank face didn’t make him feel any better. “Maybe something here or there, but nothing as direct as what was said earlier. It’s okay though. The past is in the past.”

Changmin swallowed. “How could you say that?”

You held his eyes, and for a moment that was all you could do. Instead of pushing against him and trying to defend your insensitivity, you said, “I’m sorry, Kyu. And thank you for what you did back there. But I guess even when I’m dead I don’t like talking about it.”

His eyes gleamed. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

“Just don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t have stopped.”

His throat bobbed. “It’s not that easy, Yn-ie. You know that.”

“I do know, but just try, for my sake.”

DAY SIX

CHANGMIN didn’t sleep. Technically, he slept for half an hour, but those thirty minutes of sleep had been enough to keep him awake for the rest of the night.

The dream he had awoken from was still fresh in his mind. Thirty fast seconds of gauzy, luminescent adolescence. It was the rusty squeaking of the playground swings, the afternoon golden hour sun hanging like a medal in the sky at the end of the day. It was yours and his youthful gazes, cheeks full of love and smiles and that god forsaken discussion about death.

“What comes after this?” A line like this could only come from a child who had yet to experience the beauty of the world or a child exhausted by its horrors.

A shrug from him. “I dunno. Maybe we become ghosts!” He delivered this line with such vigor and delight that you couldn’t help but beam at his antics.

“Like the ones from Ghostbusters?” You asked him.

He bobbed his head, kicked his legs out to gain some momentum on his swing. He fell back whilst gripping the twin chains, tongue lolling out and making you laugh. He loved making you laugh, even as a kid. “Exactly like that. I want to spit out green ectoplasm just like that. Blehhh!”

The two of you mocked the ghosts from the universally known blockbuster. You didn’t exactly like scary movies, but the way Changmin stared up at the screen with awe and dimples big, you couldn’t help but like them, too.

After a minute, Changmin wrapped his elbows around the chains and let himself drift there, his eyes turned to you. “What about you? What do you think happens to us when we die?”

You looked up at the afternoon sky in thought. “Shei from art class told me this story that her mama tells her as a bedtime story. At the end, the girl and boy become butterflies so they can fly together in death because they couldn’t be together in life.”

Changmin blinked, the thoughts bouncing about in his head coming to a slow halt. His lips parted. “Oh.”

“It’s not as cool as ghosts, but I think about my grandpa whenever I see a butterfly now.”

Well, how could he possibly argue against it? He smiled then, reaching across the gap between you two to bump your shoulder. “I think butterflies are cool, too! We should say hi to every butterfly we see then.”

Changmin’s eyes fluttered open like the wings of a butterfly then, twelve years later from that moment in time. The room was dark, the sky outside his window burned to rust and void of stars. He let out a shuddering breath from his lips, shaky from exhaustion and shivers from the memory he had just revisited. How had it been so vivid?

He rolled around in bed to his other side and his eyes screwed shut in an attempt to return back to the land of dreams—maybe even to that very day twelve years ago. When death had only been a conversation, and not a reality.

Sleep would not come. Today was Saturday, day six.

You said you had seven days before leaving him forevermore.

Changmin rolled back over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand and squinted as the light from the screen blinded him. It was three in the morning; that definitely checked out. He opened his notes app, disregarded the title, and began to type out something. Anything to get his body moving as fast as his head.

Things to do with Yn before tomorrow.

His hand came up to rub his lips for a moment, then he yawned wide. His eyes had adjusted to the bright screen by now, and he swiped out of his notes to consult the internet.

Ghosts. What are ghosts? How do you summon ghosts? How can you make a ghost stay?

Changmin’s brows creased as his eyes zipped down article after article—he was pretty sure he must have downloaded about a hundred viruses and bugs onto his phone by this point. Not one article gave him a straight or doable answer. Not anything that he couldn’t do without practice or additional materials. Nothing he could accomplish before midnight tomorrow.

He dropped his phone onto his bed, flopping backward onto his pillow with his hand draped over his forehead. Was it too much for him to want you to stay? All of the things he had thought about doing with you or saying to you when you were alive, shoved under the rug for “another time”… He wished he had known. Goddamn it, he wished he had known.

———

“You’re up early.”

Changmin practically bolted into the bathroom to start up the faucet and brush his teeth. “I’ve been up since three,” he replied, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

You were sitting on the couch again and rubbing Gana’s belly. “Three?”

“Mhm. Couldn’t sleep.” He spat out his lathered toothpaste and speed-ran his skincare routine, hands slapping the moisturizer and sunscreen into his skin.

You chuckled out from the living room. “What’re you doing in there? It sounds like you’re hitting yourself.”

“I’m just trying to be fast,” he said. When he was done, he took the slightest bit of hair product between his hands and ran it through his dark locks to give it life and volume. When he was decently satisfied with it, he breezed back into the living room and flicked his fingers upward at you. “Come on! Chop chop, Yn-ie! Things to do, places to see!”

You cocked your head to the side, a slightly weirded out smile pressed onto your face. “Huh? How are you so awake right now?”

He was in his bedroom when you asked this and thus, out of your direct sight. He shuddered, the energy slipping off the lines of his face for a split second as he threw things into a bag haphazardly. “I’m just—it’s just one of those days where I’m better off on a power nap, y’know?”

“Okay…?”

Changmin slung his bag over his shoulder and strode over to you to yank you up to your feet. He grinned wide at you. “Well? Ready for the day I have planned?” He stuffed his shaky hands into his pockets.

Your eyes narrowed at him, but you eventually sighed—accepted it. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

———

Changmin pulled his phone’s notes app up and clicked the checkbox next to “go down to the boardwalk for rolled ice cream”. It was accompanied by about seven items prior to it, also crossed out in twin strike-throughs. It was about six o’clock in the evening now, the sun having well set into the horizon to yours and Changmin’s left. The ocean breeze wafted through his hair, and though the view of the boardwalk below was glittering and beautiful, all he could think about was the next thing on his list.

It wasn’t that you didn’t need to eat, but that you couldn’t… really eat. The food related items were there so Changmin could experience it with you one last time, but his cup of strawberry cheesecake rolled ice cream sat untouched and fast-melting in his lap.

Changmin felt the familiar twin taps on his shoulder and jolted. His head whipped up to meet your eyes. He gulped at the look on your face. “What?”

“Your ice cream is soup.”

He glanced down at his lap and saw the thick chunks of pale pink swimming in an ocean. “Oh.”

You rested the side of your head against your fist, then propped your elbow up on the back of the bench the two of you sat on. “What’s going on, Kyu? What’s your rush today? You have a whole list written out, and we’ve been practically everywhere around the city today. I think I saw you ignore the giraffe statue in the toy store earlier—which, frankly, is not very Kyu of you.”

The last thing you expected him to do was to stare at you until he started crying. You saw the way his face scrunched up, first, then the silver pooling in his eyes. His cheeks had puffed just slightly until he combusted, fat tears rolling down his face and dripping into his ice cream soup.

Your heart sank.

Changmin got up and stalked to the trash can just a little ways away from the bench and tossed the wasted ice cream away. When he came back, you wrapped him up in your embrace, gently cupping the back of his head. “I’m sorry I upset you,” you said quietly.

“I’m sorry for crying again,” he hiccuped. “I just—I’m just so frustrated. And I just don’t know anymore. There’s enough shit to do on that list to get us to tomorrow night—”

The realization dawned upon you. You had a sneaking suspicion throughout the day as he dragged you from place to place, barely taking the time to properly enjoy the attraction, but now that he had finally said it, the truth hit you square in the chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, before they opened toward the shimmering boardwalk below. “Changmin-ah. Kyu. Let’s go home, hm? Do you wanna go home?”

You felt him nod against you, and that was settled.

When the two of you made it back to Changmin’s apartment, he walked in with shoulders hunched and head hanging. The lights stayed off, the quiet remained unbroken. You sat him down on his worn place on the couch, and you resumed that perch on the coffee table that you had taken on that very first day you had manifested in his apartment.

Changmin leaned forward onto his elbows. He was no longer crying, but his eyes were red and puffy, bottom lip wobbly. The worst thing was that he not only looked sad, but also ashamed. He kept his gaze firmly on the hardwood floor, and his voice was gravelly, “I just wasted an entire day, didn’t I?”

You shook your head. “N—”

“I’ve come to the realization that you’re probably not here to right any wrongs,” he pressed on, his head lifting for this moment to plead with his eyes for you to let him continue, to let this all out. “You haven’t done a single horrible thing in your life, Yn, not in my eyes. And… well, your death was an accident, and maybe for a second, I wanted to believe that there was foul play involved so I could distract myself but…” He picked at one of his fingers. “Now I just want to seize the last of these hours I have with you. And I thought I was doing it right today, but it was the exact opposite.”

He reached out for your hand and you gave it to him as he cradled it with both of his.

“I,” you began, “I understand what you were trying to do, Changmin, and I don’t blame you. I would have done the same thing.”

The breath he released was shaky as he stared you in the eyes with his red and silvery ones—stared you right in the eyes as he lifted your knuckles to his lips and held them there.

Something rocked through you then. You wanted to cry; god, you so badly wanted to cry.

“I wish it was me,” he croaked. “I wish it was me. I wish it was me—”

Your hand tightened around his fingers. “No,” you asserted. The strength and firmness of that single word made Changmin’s breath hitch. “No, Changmin. Don’t.” You shook your head vigorously, trying to wrap your head around the mere thought of Changmin taking your place, and everything in your chest seized. “Don’t say that.”

“God, fuck. Yn—” he stammered, pressing the back of your hand to his lips to stop the flood of emotions to break through yet again. Every time he thought he built himself back up, the dam just happened to be more fragile than he believed it to be.

You swallowed. “Changmin, I have to tell you something.”

He shook his head then. “No. God, no, don’t say it.”

“Changmin, I love you. You know that.”

He released your hand and flew back onto the couch, knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his hands. “Yn, please.”

You clutched your hand to your chest. “I’m being selfish, and I’m sorry for that, but I… never got to say it to you before I left your house that day.” Not enough times. Never enough times.

“Yn, you don’t understand,” he rasped. One hand gripped onto his knee, the other swiping upwards into his hair so you could see the full brunt of his emotions, clear as day on his face. “I love—d you. I loved you so much that it makes my chest hurt. And—and—god, I think I would’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with you if we had more time and I came to my fucking senses. Yn, it hurts so bad.”

You lowered yourself to your knees in front of him and coaxed him to unravel himself. He leaned forward, forehead pressed against you as he dry-sobbed until his lungs ached and burned from the inside out.

You couldn’t tell if all of what he just told you was true or in the moment. But what you did know was that the world was so very cruel. It would have been nice to figure this out with him, to see what might have transpired, or enjoyed the journey nonetheless. All of that… you had reached the final destination, and Changmin would go on without you now.

You had one day left.

With that one day… you were still unsure as to how you should seize it, but at this very blink in time, your priority was your best friend. You climbed onto the couch beside him and let him find comfort in your embrace.

You rubbed soothing circles into his back as you gathered your thoughts. “Do you know…” you started lowly and gently, “that I think the world of you? And I don’t say that to make you cry again; I’m saying that so you know, in your heart every day, that you could have never failed me. Like you said, in my eyes, you could do no wrong.”

Changmin sniffled against you. “But what if I do fail you? What if, when you leave for real, I can’t go on?”

“Well, then I’d like you to promise me that you will try your best to keep going. Your best is enough,” you said to him, finger brushing the hair from his forehead. “The Kyu I know is so very strong, and I know that even when the going gets tough, you get going, because you are tougher.”

He held onto your shirt, his chest’s rising and falling beginning to slow and calm down. “I promise.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.” You leaned down and pressed a butterfly kiss to the crown of his head then rubbed his shoulder. “I know this week must have been really difficult for you, but I watched you make steps toward healing. I won’t sugarcoat how hard it might be, but you have people who love you, Changmin. People who love you and care about you and want to be there for you.”

“Thank you,” he rasped. “Thank you for being here. For coming back. It probably wasn’t your choice, but thank you for choosing me in life and in death.”

For a moment, you closed your eyes and (maybe; just maybe) thought you finally felt a tear cascade down your cheek. “I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else, to be honest.”

DAY SEVEN

IT had been awhile since Changmin had invited anyone over to the apartment. Chanhee had pretty much invited himself over yesterday, but this morning, you had suggested to Changmin to host a movie night with the others so he wouldn’t have to be alone when you took off. (For wherever you were off to.) Changmin had recovered slightly from yours and his conversation last night, but there was still a soft spoken air around him.

At about six minutes past eight o’clock that Sunday evening, Changmin let Chanhee, Kevin, and Juyeon into the apartment, with Ghana leaping for joy onto the knees and thighs of these old friends he hadn’t seen in awhile. Before you died, it wasn’t uncommon that Changmin invited the group over to hang out. He thrived on the energy and connection of other people, and when he had shut himself in for an entire month, it was clear that he would not be himself for a while.

Kevin scanned the apartment with a pleasantly surprised nod. “Wow, I’m shocked that you kept it clean.”

“Yah! What kind of guest are you?” Changmin jokingly whacked Kevin with the excess material of his sleeve.

From your perch in the middle of the kitchen counter, you snickered. “If only he knew, Changmin.”

Changmin sent you a look, lips pressed in a smile.

“Man, I missed Gana so much,” Juyeon groaned, leaning down to pucker his lips at the poodle. Gana reacted accordingly, hopping up onto Juyeon’s knees and licking the tip of the man’s nose. “Mwah!”

Changmin rolled his eyes and hopped onto the ledge of the kitchen counter right in front of you. You leaned forward and rested your chin on his shoulder. “Oh please. Gana’s only got eyes for that pretty, white poodle—what’s her name?”

“Bori?” Chanhee’s pink head perked up from the couch. He peered over the ledge with a wide smile as he wielded the TV remote in his hand. “Younghoon says the two lovebirds ought to hang out again soon.”

Juyeon pouted. “Hmph, well I was in line first, so…”

Changmin shook his head with a melodramatic sigh. “Aish… by the way, you weirdos better say hi to Yn over there or I will kick you out right now.” He was only kidding, of course. (Maybe half kidding.) He was tempted to make the joke that you were really behind him and that he wasn’t referring to the shrine by the TV, but he knew they would only give him weird looks and he’d be the butt of the joke.

His three friends immediately jumped to it, raising their hands in cute, excited waves, smiles gleaming under the television light. Kevin scurried over to the table, cooing at the dinosaur plush seated next to your portrait. You couldn’t quite hear the words he murmured to you, but Juyeon was a little louder when he paid your shrine a visit himself.

When they had finished, Juyeon raised the dead tea light in the sky. “Aye! This light’s out, Changmin-ah.”

“That’s what I noticed yesterday, too!” Chanhee chimed in. He shook his head with a playful click of his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. If you’re gonna keep a shrine, you should tend to it.”

“Aish,” Changmin muttered again. (“They’re not wrong,” you added cheekily; “Heeey, shush you.”)

“Changmin, are you not coming to join us at your own movie night?” Kevin teased as he tore off his jacket and settled onto the couch next to Juyeon.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” He felt the weight of your head lift off his shoulder, then could he slide off the counter and join his friends at the couch.

You smiled to yourself as you scooted up the counter to take Changmin’s old place. From here, you had a great view of the movie anyway. They were arguing between a couple different titles, but it seemed that Changmin was insistent on one in particular.

“—Ghostbusters. Have you seen the original? You haven’t? That’s so insulting; we’re watching it now!” Changmin screeched, grabbing hold of Chanhee’s shoulder to shake the poor man into doing his bidding with the remote.

Eventually, the movie started rolling, the ectoplasm spilled, and on your final night as a ghost, you watched yours and Changmin’s childhood staple movie for the very last time. From time to time, you caught Changmin twisting his head over his shoulder to throw smiles back at you, and you knew he was reminiscing the same as you were. Only, as the night grew longer and time flew by, there were less and less looks thrown back at you.

And just like that, a sense of contentment settled over you. Like a set of ellipses, your time was coming to a gradual halt.

At five minutes to midnight, Changmin jolted up in the middle of The Avengers to a twin set of taps on his left shoulder. Chanhee sent him a mildly concerned look, since his friend’s movements jostled his head off Changmin’s shoulder.

Changmin cleared his throat, quietly murmuring, “I’ll be right back”, then slipped out of the front door.

Changmin’s slippers hit the concrete outside the apartment complex with a dull smack. Crisp cool night bit at his cheeks, but when he saw you standing beneath the rusty-orange night sky, he ran up to you and crushed you to his body in a final embrace. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but his mouth curled into a smile against your shoulder.

“I wish we had more time,” he whispered in a last, desperate attempt to implore the universe.

You cradled the back of his head, eyes screwed shut. “Me, too. You have no idea, but… you’re gonna be okay, Kyu. It’ll all be okay.”

Changmin tucked his face into your neck to catch the lingering scent of your shampoo, to memorize the imprint of your body into his brain so he might always remember what holding you felt like. “I’ll make you proud, Yn-ie.”

Silver lined your eyes, your throat tightened—for fuck’s sake, you wished you could cry. “You’ve already made me proud, Changmin.”

———

When Changmin returned, three heads perked up from the couch to watch him settle down next to Chanhee again. They caught the glistening wetness of his eyes, but he smiled through it, as if he had just come back from seeing a friend off.

Changmin curled up into Chanhee’s side, the latter asking him gently, “You okay?”

Changmin nodded. “I’m okay.”

—fin.

BONUS SCENES. — day seven cont’d.

(“Hey, before you go, can I ask you a favor?”; “Anything.”)

A minute after Changmin had settled back in the apartment, he cleared his throat, inclining his head to the shrine. “Guys, I know you said I should really maintain the shrine better, but the shrine maintains itself.”

Everyone followed his line of sight to the shrine where your portrait glowed in the light of only one tea light. However, they all heard, loud and clear, a distinct tap-tap sound against the base of the dark candle. The light blinked to life, and everyone erupted into madness.

Through his friends’ screams, Changmin cackled in hyena-esque delight. “I told you my apartment was haunted!”

DAY TWELVE

“CHANGMIN, over here!”

The street was alive as university students flooded into all cram into the humble bbq restaurant in the district, this chilly Friday evening. Only a lucky few would be able to score a table without having a prior reservation, but lucky for Changmin and his friends, Kevin was always on top of his Yelp notifications.

Changmin beamed at his friends, his eyes widening as Chanhee practically hurled himself down the street and into Changmin’s embrace. “Holy shit—I could’ve become a pancake on the sidewalk just now.”

Chanhee rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Oh shut up, you drama king.”

“Hey, that’s all you, dude.” The two of them walked back over toward where Kevin and Juyeon stood by the door. A long line had formed down the opposite side of the block, but the four of them stood in the area simply waiting for their reservation notification to arrive.

Juyeon brought Changmin in for an affectionate side hug, and Kevin asked him how he was feeling. Changmin answered with a small, affirming nod and statement; though, the deja vu was awfully strong tonight.

Kevin pursed his lips in a smile. “Good, I’m glad, man.” Then his phone lit up, and so too did his face. “Ooh, fuck yeah! Our table’s ready—c’mon!”

Changmin was about to follow his friends in through the door when he stopped short. His head perked up and swiveled to survey the sidewalk. He thought he had just heard his name being called…

“Kyu!”

He whipped around now, and his eyes locked onto a form on the far side of the street. It was a mass crush of people over there, but he could pick you out of a sea of people—anytime, anywhere.

Something seized in his chest, and he broke into a teary-eyed smile. Before he could wave or further acknowledge your presence, someone passed in front of you, and you melted in with the crowd. Gone, as if never there before.

“—Changmin-ah, what’s up? We can’t be seated until we’re all inside.” Chanhee shook Changmin’s shoulder, then followed his gaze. “What’s over there?”

Changmin shook his head and turned on his heel to duck into the warmth of the restaurant with Chanhee. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I just saw an old friend.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading all the way thru and i hope u liked it ! :') pls do consider reblogging this or dropping a comment/ask &lt;3

[bestiarium]

Antjie Somers [South African folklore]

Bogeymen are one of the most common recurring character types among folktales: an evil monster, ghost or undead human that comes out at night and takes misbehaving children. Sometimes to eat them and sometimes just dragging them off to an unknown (yet likely unpleasant) fate. In South Africa, children were told similar tales about Antjie Somers, a local folk character originating from the 19th century. Though she checks all the boxes of a typical bogeyman character, there is one thing that sets her apart from the others: Antjie Somers is human with no clear supernatural traits.

As the story goes, there once was a man named Andries Somers. He worked on a fishing vessel (interesting note: in some variations, he was a slave rather than a conventional fisherman) and was known for his exceptional work ethic: when Andries hauled in his nets, his skill and strength put his fellow fishermen to shame. Aside from being talented and diligent, Andries was also brave and kind-hearted, as he had saved people from drowning on several occasions.

Alas, his diligence bred jealousy in his comrades until one day they decided to teach him a lesson. The fishermen banded together and surrounded Andries on a beach, intending to rough him up. But Andries was a man of exceptional strength and knocked all of his assailants to the ground. When the dust settled however, he saw that one of his attackers couldn’t get up: the man had hit his head falling down and died on the spot. Knowing that he would be charged with murder if he stayed, Andries saw no choice to flee.

He stole a kopdoek (a kind of headscarf) and a dress from his sister and ran away disguised as a woman. After fleeing far away, he eventually found new work in a settlement somewhere over the mountains, where his former comrades would never find him. Andries worked in a vineyard and it wasn’t long until his employer noticed his exceptional work ethic and put him in charge of the other workers. But here his sad past repeated itself, and he soon found himself the target of jealousy and anger from his co-workers. Eventually, they found the dress and kopdoek Andries still kept in his hut, and mocked him endlessly about it. They called him Antjie (a feminine name) and poked fun of him for crossdressing. He endured these childish taunts for three days, before packing his stuff and leaving under the cover of night, full of anger and disappointment.

Andries was never found, but after a while, children who had been sent to the forest to collect lumber started telling stories of a strange elderly woman dressed in a striped dress and kopdoek, wearing a sack over her shoulder. The woman was always angry and would threaten kids with her knife, threatening to kill them and stuff their corpses into her sack. Their parents connected the dots and assumed this mysterious woman to be Antjie Somers, as they had taken to calling Andries. From then on, people would warn their kids to behave, lest Antjie Somers stab them and take them away in her sack.

This story actually has some political context, as it originated in a period of tension between workers and farmers following the then-recent abolishment of the slave trade. I won’t go into the details here, but there is quite a bit of historical context to this tale if you want to read up about it.

Though Antjie/Andries is the protagonist of the story, this character was later demonized further and turned into a demonic monster, a goblin, a monstrous woman with animal-like characteristics or a witch in some retellings. In this last version, Andries quite literally became a woman when he turned evil, which also has some political subtext. In fact, because the character was crossdressing and gender-nonconforming, Antjie Somers is sometimes regarded as a queer character, though I assume this is more of a modern interpretation (he only donned the dress to disguise himself, after all). The moral of the story however remains quite simple: don’t leave children unattended in creepy woods.

Sources: Steenekamp, M., 2011, Antjie/Andries Somers: Decoding the bodily inscriptions of a South African folklore character, research report submitted to the University of the Witwatersrand in fulfilment of the requirements of the Master’s degree of Arts, Johannesburg, South Africa. Croeser, C., 2020, A wilting whisper of Antjie Somers: a meditation on the witchery and gender-non-conformance of Afrikaans Folklore Figure Antjie Somers, Scrutiny2, 25(2). Gorelik, B., 2021, Cross-dresser as a bogey: on the gender ambiguity of Antjie Somers in South African folklore, South African Journal of Cultural History, 35(1). (image source 1: Anja Venter) (image source 2: Galago on Deviantart)

[folklauerate]

Just checking in

I know you write for you and we get to enjoy it, as you follow your muse and not anything else. But wanted to check in in case you get more asks about certain fics and it grates more than you wish it did.

Hope you are good ❤️

(Sorry if this felt inappropriate/intrusive)

This isn’t inappropriate or intrusive at all, it’s very sweet and thoughtful :,) thanks for checking in!

I do feel bad, because I do, to a certain extent, also write for you guys! Like it’s very very very sweet to me that people are even interested in what I write and like to read it, I’m very grateful for that! I think I have said that I write for myself more so to mean that I try to make sure that I’m creating from a place I’d love/fulfilling myself creatively first, and making sure that it’s writing that’s borne out of love and creation and not out of writing for the sake of… whatever. Like I’m never writing something because I want to get a certain amount of kudos and comments or something, ya know? Because it’s a tricky trap to fall into and it’s bad to compare yourself to other writers, or even to write something because you think it’s what “other people” want to see, because then the writing doesn’t ring true, and it’s so evident to me when it doesn’t, and it just makes me disappointed in myself :/ So I try to ensure that when I’m writing, it’s coming from a place of feeding my soul first, so that there’s love imbued in the work.

That being said, I do still care what you guys think because, well, I’m a human and a people pleaser haha. I do try very hard not to let a certain response overwhelm me or make me feel bummed if something I post doesn’t get the response I thought it would, because, again, that’s just a straight path to being detrimental to my own mental health, so I’ve been trying to refocus my writing and my approach to it to be more centered around myself. But I do still care if you guys like something or not, and I love to discuss fics here and on Twitter and stuff, and it’s so very flattering to hear that you guys are eager for more. I apologize for not being the sort of writer that puts out an update every week and taking ages sometimes to update fics. Real life can be a lot and writing is not always easy, and I’m doing my best but I truly do get that it’s frustrating. I appreciate you sticking with me!

I will say some of the response to the infidelity fic was a little confusing to me at first, as I feel like I wrote it as a character study, but some folks really seemed to want alternate POVs just to get some angsty smut lol so then it feels a bit cheap, idk how to put it 😭 I am in no way positing that I’m reinventing the literary wheel with my fanfiction writing, or that it’s high art and should be treated as such, but it felt weird I won’t lie. Even when I write smut I like to ensure there’s a real reason for it to occur within a story, that there’s a real emotional undercurrent and journey we go on with the characters. I think sex is an important part of relationships and our own experiences with the world and it can be used to convey different things and I like exploring it in fic and using it to compliment my writing, not to get clicks or eyeballs or hits. So that was a bit of an odd response to the infidelity au, was just some comments and stuff asking for “those scenes.” I get it though. People aren’t necessarily reading fanfiction for art or a character study or a meditation on morality; they’re looking for an escape! It was just unexpected is all lol.

To really finally answer your question; I’m doing okay! I’ve talked with some friends and I’m not pushing myself one way or the other about writing a follow-up pov or not. I also don’t think I’m a fic writer with a huge following or anything (for multiple reasons; I have irregular updates, and because I write a lot of modern day AUs in a show/book fandom that’s set in regency and people don’t like that; and I don’t do a lot of gratuitous fluffy post-canon regency stuff that’s really popular, just to name a few) so it’s certainly not like I’ve got an ask box or anything flooded with people asking for x updates, but anytime I get a larger than normal response to something I always get a bit skittish, I suppose. To be fair, I never think anyone more than say five people are ever reading my work, which is not an accurate estimate at all, but in my head it’s usually just my friends and then I count myself lucky if it’s anyone else lol 😭 my brain can’t really wrap my head around the amount of people who read my work sometimes, and tbh I don’t think human brains are meant to comprehend that lol.

I’m not even entirely sure I answered this question but I do appreciate you so much for checking in and reading my work and caring <3 I appreciate each and every single one of y’all! Love you very very much <3

[jehovahhthickness]

Hova, I am freaking out. I am an emotional wreck. I hope that you & your followers don’t judge me for what I’m about to share.. I just really need someone to listen & somewhere safe to express my feelings/concerns. I’m having a very difficult time processing all of this alone.

I found out Wednesday that I have HSV 1 & 2. I’m positive I know exactly who gave it to me..

A few months ago, I traveled to my home state to visit friends & family over the summer.. Well, I ended up meeting someone through a good friend of mine. He was very kind, funny & handsome so I started really liking him. We talked a lot, went on dates & had a lot of fun out & about. It felt like such a solid & magnetic connection.. We started to spend a lot of time together. It had been almost 2 years of no sex, so I figured I would have some fun.. Which now has turned into a nightmare for me.. I wish I had never gotten involved with this man.. Had I known this outcome would bring me sexual trauma for the rest of my life… Mentally & physically.

I never experienced any cold sores, genital sores, tingling, burning or any symptoms of HSV.. So I never would have thought I had it if I hadn’t gone to my routine woman’s well check earlier this week, got tested & found out. The only thing I noticed recently that makes me suspect it was him was a cluster of small fluid filled bumps on the side of my left middle finger not long after we were intimate. I’ve been on google reading about HSV & I read something called “herpetic whitlow.” It says it’s usually by the nail bed, but I saw some pics towards the middle of the finger that looked similar to what I had going on. I brushed it off thinking maybe it was a burn or something else. I had no clue it could be HSV so I didn’t think much of it at the time.

Now I am very worried because my toddler developed a rash shortly after. He had a few bumps similar to mine on his arm like 3 fluid filled bumps. Then another rash on his groin. (Not his genitals, but on one side of his inner thigh/groin area.) It says whitlow is very contagious & now I’m very very afraid that I could have passed this onto him. Especially changing diapers since it was on my finger & I did not have a band aid on.. Even holding him, a kiss or sharing a cup? It did clear up fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to experience any sort of discomfort. No fever, irritability, crying. It went away on its own & hasn’t returned since I noticed it around September. Although, I’m thinking the worst & also worried it may come back. I am so scared & upset. I just want to make sure that he is okay, but I’m nervous about taking him into the doctor because what if they accuse me of sexual abuse? Then I risk legal problems because of a possible virus on my finger. Maybe I’m just paranoid & overthinking & he’s fine? Google feels more unreliable than ever. Each website has different information & I don’t know what’s true & what’s not.

I wish this never happened. I’m so stressed, depressed, embarrassed, ashamed & angry. My anxiety won’t let me relax thinking I’ve passed this on without meaning to. I feel fucking awful.

Thank you for listening.

Please, please, please use protection guys :(

- Sincerely, one devastated mama..

I want to reassure you that herpes is so fricking common and not lethal to the point that the stigma that’s attached to it is worse than the actual condition itself.

Literally most folks have either both herpes 1 & 2 and have NO idea that they do.

Just me kissing a dude on the mouth and letting him giving me head will give me genital herpes. It is what it is tbh.

Or you could suck on your own finger and masturbate right afterwards can lead to you getting it as well.

You didn’t do anything wrong. This could’ve happened to anyone.

Also, just go to the doctor and explain exactly what you just said to me, CALMLY and it will be fine.

I know you’re pissed, upset and very disappointed in yourself. But you are doing okay, babe.

I can reassure you that you have nothing to panic about. If it was something else, I would be more concern. But it’s just herpes.

As far as your future sexual partners … anyone that’s educated with functioning brain cells won’t trip over it.

[therealieblog]

An open letter to Rebel Wilson

When I saw that you had lost a lot of weight, I was disappointed, but I wasn’t surprised. I know exactly why you did it, and it wasn’t really about wanting to have healthy children. Even implying that fat women have unhealthy children is so messed up, but that isn’t your fault. None of this diet bullshit is your fault. You are a beautiful, talented comedic actor in Hollywood. Of course there will be boatloads of pressure on you to lose weight. Especially because you’re beautiful. I’m certain the comments of “you’d be a knockout if only you lost weight” aren’t new to you. I heard those comments all my life. 

And then I decided to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. You know, the ole DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT decision, where you think ‘I’m sick of being fat and invisible and no one finding me attractive.’ Where your doctors are pressuring you with threats of future health issues that maybe aren’t even happening currently. Where your friends and family and the media and medical professionals all think you’d do well to make yourself smaller. 

So you work out day and night. You cut out carbs and obsess over calories and sugar and you stop eating pizza unless it’s one or two small pieces, made using a cauliflower crust. 

You eventually succeed in making yourself small enough, and everyone congratulates you. At last, you can be truly beautiful! At last you can be truly sexy! 

I know why you did it. As I’ve just said, I did it too. I went from 235lbs to 155lbs back in 2008-2009. I worked out, swore off carbs, drank loads of water, and obsessed over every piece of food I put in my mouth, and I became thin! 

I won’t lie. The privilege that became available to me immediately upon losing weight was astounding. Men checked me out constantly. People complimented me constantly. Everyone told me I was so “good” and “healthy” and “strong” and “beautiful” and “hot”. 

People asked me what my secret was, but we all know, there’s no secret. It’s just starvation and exercise. Starvation and exercise makes humans lose weight. It worked in concentration camps in WWII, and it works on teen girls who get the advice from Cosmo magazine, and were you to end up stranded somewhere with no food, like on a desert island or in a POW camp, it would work there too. There’s no real trick to losing tons of weight. You just need a lot of obsessive drive, and to devote almost every waking moment of your life to it for a few months to a year, and bam! You too can be thin!

You may even be able to keep it off. Very few people do, (around 5%) though famous actors tend to have a better chance, being that there’s so much pressure on them to maintain weight loss, and they have access to personal trainers and high end diet programs and nutrition coaches etc. Most normal folks though, end up endlessly shrinking and growing, thinning and thickening as the years go by. Because the first major diet always works. It always does. It’s like that first hit of a hard drug will always feel the best. Thing is, it gets harder and harder to maintain. Why? Because human beings love to eat. It’s what keeps us alive and gives us pleasure. Our brains are uniquely set up to find, eat and enjoy food so that we don’t die of starvation. 

Your body will fight you. It will increase your hunger hormones and make you obsess over food. It will send tendrils of temptation from plates of high fat, high starch, high sugar foods in an attempt to get you to eat more. Please don’t be angry with it. Don’t hate your body for fighting you. It is only trying to save your life. It is a blind organism that operates on hundreds of thousands of years of instinct, and it wants you to eat. 

Right now, you are on top of the world. A loving partner. Applause from the media. Lots of young girls seeing you as their starvation role model. Right now, everything is great. And it might stay that way. You might be able to fight your body successfully enough to hold onto that weight loss indefinitely. You might be one of the 5% who does that. If you want that, and it’s worth the sacrifices you’ll need to make to stay there, to stay thin, then best of luck. 

But, if you catch yourself “slipping”, “cheating” or doing any of the other horrible things that involve re-feeding your starving body, please know that you are beautiful and worthwhile, and that you can be perfectly healthy while also being fat. It is OK. You can eat more vegetables and whole grains and still go to the gym as much as you want, while being fat. You can have pizza and donuts and cookies and chocolate and still be healthy. This isn’t a black and white game where you must starve yourself down to a small size to gain health. 

I admired you so much for staying in your body. For staying fat. You were funny, but also sexy and beautiful. I thought ‘What an amazing woman. She’s fat and hot and funny and she’s such an incredible role model for body positivity’.

When I saw that you’d lost weight, I was not surprised, but I was disappointed. It happens over and over. A fat woman with a lot of talent becomes famous and bends to the pressures to lose weight. Even if it feels like it’s for good reasons (to not die young from some horrible condition people are convinced is intrinsically linked to fatness, or to have “healthy children”) it is almost always because fatphobia is woven into every aspect of our lives like a toxic thread. It’s almost always because we’ve been taught that fat is disgusting, unhealthy and wrong. 

I still love your comedy. You still crack me up, and you are still beautiful. I only wish you hadn’t believed the diet culture message. I wish it hadn’t infected you with this dissatisfaction with yourself. If some day in the future, if you end up in an endless struggle against your body’s needs in order to stay thin, I hope that you find true body positivity and true health outside of starvation and intense exercise. I hope you find happiness. Just know that if you gain weight back, you are NOT a failure. Diet culture has failed you, but you haven’t failed at a single thing. 

[thestrandedrpg]

News travels through the air on the island like salt on a sea breeze. Here is the gossip currently circulating as of November 11, 2022. Read on below the cut!

GENERAL NEWS / NOTICES:

NOTICE: Esther Achebe is no longer residing in the Fisher’s Hut. If you want this prime piece of real estate to yourself, it’s all yours! Contact Seamus Hayes at 1-800-FISH-HUTS.

ANNOUNCEMENT: I am circulating a petition to get Esther back on the New Council! (Silver Trio? The Hardy Regime and sometimes Seamus? IDK) and Seamus said it could happen if I got 100 signatures. I think he didn’t take me seriously because we don’t even have 100 people on this island let alone enough paper for 100 signatures (and also Esther killed Matthew I guess) but you know what? FUCK Seamus! Murder is TOTALLY OKAY! I currently have like 10 signatures. Fake names ARE allowed. What are they gonna do, check? We’ll just say the fake names are tooootally real people, they're just still stuck in the Labyrinth and that’s what we’re sensitive about! Come find me and add your name to spite Seamus TODAY! APPLICANTS WANTED: Folks, this island’s drama is always life or death. Like a whole ocean going poof? Or a Beast coming out to try to get us incinerated? That isn’t fun at all! So I’m looking to bring in some fun drama by starting the acclaimed TV show (minus the TV) The Bachelor: Meridium Edition! I will be the Bachelor since a disproportionate number of people here seem to think known murderer Emre Akbar is their only option for a good lay and who better to show them they’re wrong than me? If you would like to be a suitor, let me know! ADDENDUM TO APPLICANTS WANTED: Is it just me or does this handwriting look suspiciously similar to whoever wanted to make himself the King of Meridium and make Aurélie Queen? ADDENDUM TO APPLICANTS WANTED: I want Sisco to be the Bachelor :( It would be funnier than whatever this is CASTING CALL: CASTING FERDINAND MAGELLAN IN “A FISH OUT OF WATER,” an interactive musical thriller from the minds of Dawn&Dawner, based on the life of Lapu-Lapu, the first Filipino hero. Must look Portuguese. Mid-30s to mid-40s male preferred. Tomas or Joaquin, please contact Kang Sae-byeok or Alex Liwayway Woo for more information.

INTRAMURALS: Kang Sae-byeok knows everything there is to know about basketball inexplicably and has put together an exhibition tournament, Meridium's first-ever! At least she tried to; numerous newer residents kept asking her how to cut an umbrella out of dalgona and if they would have to play marbles. Said disappointed point guard Jupiter George: "I never even got the chance to say 'put me in, coach'! All my hoop dreams down the drain." Asked for comment on this disappointing development, Kang Sae-byeok was heard to simply murmur, "Whoa."

SEEKING: Someone with no adversity to water and two (2!) working hands to help set up lagoon water lanterns along the edges of The Bridge. Must also be willing to tolerate a fair amount of cursing. It won’t be directed at you but it sure will be directed.

AUDITION SIGN-UP!  Plans for a South Beach talent show are underway!  If you have a fun, theatrical, or engaging skill to show off, sign up for the auditions!  (Disclaimer: auditions are a formality, everyone's going on the roster.  Seriously, we're desperate for some light entertainment).   Talents can include by are not limited to: -  Birdcall whistles - One-woman acts to ensure all the attention - Freaky birdcall whistles that sound unnervingly like screams - Accidentally summoning a spirit in the middle of a harmless card trick with yo momma - Spooky-cute reading of Wren's fanfic (we know she has them written in her head) - Dramatic retelling of Kenzie Royal's life - Live dermal procedure: popping and draining an underarm cyst - Loud, slightly awkward refusal to play the piano - Folksong performance outshined by previous crippling inability to play the piano- 20-minute chanting hymn to put everyone to sleep (bring your rotten fruit to throw)

REVIEW: The new pamphlet titled “The Agricultural Revolution for Dummies” received fifty-six total power claps from Flora Hardy.

WANTED:  Fresh, tasty mead!  This is NOT an impossible request.  If that bumbling beekeeper and that mousy distiller can actually get their act together, I'm positive this island would be overflowing with MEAD.  What's the hold up!  Stop being cowards, one of you ask the other on a date.  Hold hands, talk things out, give it another try!   Make each other a nice dinner, maybe candlelight and some light music.  Set the mood, you two!  Haven't either of you heard of courting?  I can't believe I have to solve your issues just to get some good delicious mead around here!  

EVENT: Upcoming two-weekend seminar to be held on: Meridium Survival Tips: What, Like it's Hard? Tips will centre around issues of food, shelter, and of course that general feeling of 'what the fuck is going on and why'.  Survival cannot be done alone.  Students will attend a general lecture in the first weekend, followed by a track the second weekend that is specific to your survival specialization.  Each specialization taught by three unique weirdos/outcasts who always seem to make it out alive with a chill alomb. Track one: creepy Kang Sae-byeok.   Track two: indifferent Kaz Raval.   Track three: unfriendly Sandra Barrow.   Be prepared for condescension, a semi-hostile unwillingness to teach, and a lot of enigmatic or bitingly clever quips guaranteed to go over your head.   NOTE: your specialists might troll you.  This is a test to read between their lines.  Follow their every action and word to the letter. Seats limited! Register now!

NOTICE: Have you ever realized how messed up you are psychologically? Do you want to talk about it with a professional who will keep your secrets close to her heart while also giving you impeccable, thought-provoking advice? Then come spill—I mean consult noted therapist Lina Delgado. Lina was a licensed therapist before she came to Meridium and is more than willing to take the time to listen to your gossip, I mean problems! FWB fuck your dad? Jealous of your BFF? Marriage issues with your (ostensibly) beloved spouse? Abandonment issues because Mummy didn’t want you anymore or never liked you in the first place?* Dr. Lina is willing to talk out ALL of these issues with you! Schedule an appointment today! * All examples are fictional scenarios and any correlation to real-world events are coincidental

REGRETS: Ms. Tamyra Williams, in an unfortunate mishap, was startled by a yet-unidentified species of squid while she was taking a mid-afternoon swim. The squid, in what was clearly a targeted attack (Ms. Williams is conducting an investigation into the possibilities of squid-training), squirted a viscous dark blue ink all over Ms. Williams. The regret is that her pale yellow bikini in a perfectly flattering shade has been ruined, and nobody will be blessed by seeing her in it anymore.

ANNOUNCEMENT: The kimchi rotation is as follows. Monday - cabbage Tuesday - cucumber Wednesday - green mango Thursday- watermelon rind Friday - green papaya Saturday - carrot Sunday - tomato The wait list is now open. You will be eating with Sae-byeok unless Haneul is already there. It’s fine if you don’t talk. If you talk, make it good. If it’s good, you will be given access to the flavored milk rotation.

NOTICE: DO NOT, under any circumstances, approach the smokehouse on the Lower Farm without prior explicit approval and consent and a special sewn-together leaf badge!! There's no reason for this it's just that Kaz doesn't like interlopers. Or go bother him we're not your mother, sheesh. SPEED DATING! Lonely?  Looking for companionship or just someone to hang out with?  Drinking tonnes of tea but having no swipes on island tindr?  Come for a night of speed-dating!  We all know this outdated ritual, still dragged out by romcoms to show the desperation of the protagonist's singlehood.  Meet other hot Meridium singles in your neighbourhood (South Beach has got neighbourhoods now, that's right.) and take five minutes to know each other before moving onto the next potential love!  Be prepared to meet strangers, friends, frenemies, and enemies in a new light: the humiliating vulnerability of a five-minute date.   So what if this guy gut-punched you earlier this year? He looks so nervous and cute in his bowtie now!  So what if this lady stole your water during the drought?  She got her hair in an updo for this night! Can't make this month's dating event?  Next month will be: blind dates!  You'll be forcibly paired with someone for two conscripted hours of faked cheer!  We can't wait to see you there!

EDUCATIONAL EVENT: The older people on Meridium are sick of the blatant ignorance of everyone who's below some arbitrary age, let's say 32. In their boundless wisdom they have put together a chapbook of information, slang, and recipes that younguns should know for their own damn good! Some excerpts: - "dimanche tabernac: this is a slang but do not ever say this! Its meaning is so terrible I dare not even say it aloud, or put it down, or sign it to you. In fact please retract this entry por favor. You're retracting it, yes? It's gone? Gracias. It would be a true nightmare to know I have released this into the world. I must lie down now" - "If for some godforsaken reason you've decided to process bitter cassava then you need to, obviously, observe either the soaking method for the correct amount of time, or paste-drying, or else construct a long sleeve of tightly-woven palm leaves to extract the starch, or cook the syrup for no less than forty hours, this is all self-evident but I know you won't do it right so enjoy your cyanide poisoning" - "when you are attempting to extract information from a member of your preferred ... you know what I am saying. No, I will not elaborate. Such a foul mind you have to want me to say more! Sacre bleu I will not continue if all you require is filth!" Chapbooks are available at the little pond where there's that fish who sometimes spits at people. We do not anticipate running out anytime soon so visit at your leisure.

FOUND: A professional manicurist's case of twenty-four (24) assorted colours of unopened OPI nailpolishes. No need to try and claim them, I just wanted to boast about it. They're mine and I'm not sharing, bitchezzz! - Alex L. Woo

REGRETS: A cave flooded near The Bridge. Like, big time. Good news: Nice, fresh mud for self-care purposes! (May have fresh bone chips in it! So good for exfoliating!) Bad news: a bunch of people’s belongings got sucked in there. So... come have a spa day and get your stuff! 

NEEDED: Someone to relay a stack of paper to the hairy 19-year-old Indian-looking boy named Kaz. I do not know where he stays, and I do not care to find out.

Obelisk Eye never closes! We will begin our latest entry with a poem about Meridium’s newest location, The Bridge.

here, and there              within, but without the bridge is a gateway  travel through     lagoons the Labyrinth SEES we sleep,                but we walk things are not what they seem running                        barefoot blood red on the white soles the Labyrinth LAUGHS the bridge, they said, is such                                                         a foolish name why not the way? the path? the portal? the mirror? the Labyrinth CALLS

Thank you to our particularly artistic ObOp for beginning to unpack one of Meridium’s greater mysteries! This week our Obelisk Operatives (ObOps) have observed the following behaviors. So pull out your magnifying glass, write in the sand, and let’s do some sleuthing. - One ObOp spotted Hanan Zakir... climbing? By herself? When asked, Hanan said it was "for fun" despite the obvious risks to life and limb. Note: it didn't look very fun. - Another ObOp has observed that whenever Jovi George doesn’t know what he’s looking at, he simply pokes it. We can’t help but wonder if he has ever hurt his finger doing this. Please do not do it to Our Obelisk. - Flora Hardy appears to be mastering different pitches in her so-called “nonsense words,” which her parents claim are “normal for a baby.” We do not believe that they are truly nonsense. Who could she be communicating with? - There are many mosquitoes beginning to gather in the standing water near The “Bridge”. They also make high-pitched noises, one ObOp noted. Is this who Flora speaks to?

Any other news to report?  Become an ObOp or risk being spied on!  Always remember:

T̶̪͋̓́̂͌̀̾͆͠H̷̺̙̥̟̼̿Ĕ̸̱͇̮̬̄̒̓̍̓̃ ̴̡͕̗͕̱͈̘͛́͋̀̈́̀̚͠͠ͅȎ̶̞̙͈͉͈̙̥͒͒̐̒͜͜B̸̧̪̀̎̃̓̉̌͠͝Ę̴͔͚̰̠͖̠̘͒̌̂͑̓́̓͝L̷̨͇̺̣̜̾̋̊̀̀͜Į̴̛̮͇̭͙̠̣̱̓̏S̴̡̗̦͚̠͖̺͋̉̾K̸͙̜̠̬̟͇͂́̎̀̒̑̇͜͝ͅ ̸̞̗̺͍̥̒̊̊̾̕͝͠͝E̵̯̺̼̤͉͉͆̄̈́́͝Ỹ̷͎̦̟͉̗̞̊͘E̷̖̫̫͂̑̽̋̈́͠ ̸͉͙̥͂̐̈́͛̊͠N̴͈̾͠È̷̬̜̘̘̇̑̈́̍͋͂͌̔͠Ṽ̴̫̰̥͓̱͕͓͆̐̈́Ȩ̸̛̦͈̗̯̘̫͙̇̀̌̾̑͊R̴̼̣̃̈́͊͠ ̸̡̖̝̬̝̊̈̕C̴̰̰̉̄̃̑͒Ļ̶̢̱̬͇̻̈́̔̈́͋̽O̵̼͍͔͂S̴̭͍̆̉͘̕E̶̮͓̯͕̓͌͋̋̉̓S̸̤̞̘͙̘͂̎̎̇̿̽͆̎̊͝

DEAR MS. MERIDIUM

Anonymous islanders are invited to voice their questions, complaints, and compliments to the island itself. Replies are not guaranteed.

Dear Ms. Meridium, I saw that a previous letter was signed by "Fauna Forever Flora Never" and I *can't* be the only one who sees this as a direct foretelling of that weird baby the Hardy-Blums found! Is it a warning? I think it's a warning. We should all be on our guard. - Rosemary's Omen

Dear Ms. Meridium, Listen. Listen. I think The Bridge is really neat. Being able to sit there and watch the Labyrinth do its thing? So cool! Very neat! What’s less cool? The bugs. They are everywhere. Can’t we get a little less buggy? You took the whole ocean away. Surely you can work on a little bit of standing water. I’m going to have to move if this doesn’t let up soon! Itchily, Bug-Be-Gone

Dear Ms. Meridium, That Madi from the farm has a vendetta against me! She put some snails near my train car and now those snails are keeping me up at night. Don't laugh I'm air-attuned so I can hear them slithering around and that gross pop sound when they pull into their shells. I think I'm developing a complex. Madi owes me and I think to make up for this trauma she should come be my wife. Just sayin. - Escargot Home With Me

AO-TREE

TITLE: a long way down (the love below mix) RATING: E for Major Character Death SUMMARY: for the remix challenge. kaz has had enough and alex doesn't know when to stop...but that's what makes it interesting once they figure out they have the same taste in hobbies. soon the whole island will pay the price.

TITLE: girls just wanna have fun RATING: G SUMMARY: lily and teenaged flora get to go on an adventure that isn’t interrupted by disaster. that’s it. that’s the whole plot. i just think these kids have been through too much, okay?! let them have fun!!

TITLE: If I Did It RATING: T AUTHOR: Kang Sae-byeok  SUMMARY: How I would have successfully weaponized a cult following to gain control of South Beach. 

TITLE: programmed to receive RATING: R SUMMARY: an AU of the shining. starring tomas as the drunk writer with a god complex, libby as the plucky wife with a whole closet of overalls, and lily as the creepy yet endearing child at the middle of it all. special guest appearance by joaquin as the kindly and therefore doomed spiritual guide. REDRUM!

TITLE: shere khan-shi RATING: E SUMMARY: emre akbar is the head of the mowgli crime syndicate, but he wants to bring it all down. journalist kang sae-byeok can help, for a price. and that price is his getting her pregnant.

TITLE: madison avenue RATING: T SUMMARY: madi's the newest copywriter at a high-pressure advertising firm, where all her coworkers have much more experience and are absolutely cutthroat. only one person is on her side: aurelie, the cold bitch office manager.

KIDDIE MERIDIUM THEORY CORNER! by Jovi George

The usual organizer of Kiddie Corner recently “nearly drowned” and “isn’t in the mood,” apparently, and I’ve got things to say, so here we go.

1. I think I’ve cracked it. If you want the island to be nice to you, you have to treat it like it’s your crush! Bring it nice things! Invite it on adventures with you! Compliment its abilities! It might intimidate you a little bit, but that’s fair! ... Actually, on second thought, I might be thinking of something else. But I still think that stands!

2. I think there are two Labyrinths. Of course, I’m not even supposed to go into one of them, so I can’t exactly test this out (cough wink cough), but I suspect there’s a kind Labyrinth and a cruel Labyrinth, of sorts. Though maybe it’s just a matter of attitude, like I mentioned above... the more I think about it the more I think I’m right.

3. If we go up somewhere high and put every cell phone that we collected in a circle, we’ve got to be able to AirDrop something to someone. I just need all of your phones. 

4. Is it just me or do the dots on the Fisher’s Map look like they spell out ‘HI’? Maybe I’ve been staring at it too long...

5. There are tunnels under the beaches, yeah? Well who’s to say there aren’t more under the oceans? What if that’s where all of our stuff was kept all that time? And then when the ocean fell through and into the Labyrinth, that’s when they came up? Wait, I’ve drawn a diagram. I’ll attach it below.

6. Actually this is more of a question: how did North Beach people figure out that tea works to stop pregnancies? I’m not trying to use it, I’m just curious. Was it just trial and error? Or did someone sip it and think to themselves, hey, this tastes like my IUD feels? I’m serious! It’s a serious question!

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I’ve been notified that these things are “better suited for Ob-Ops.” But I haven’t gotten an invite! I’m not above joining a weird statue cult! I just need you to tell me I’m allowed! And what were you going to do, just leave Kiddie Corner empty? Shoot.

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[ktmatt21blogger-blog]

Do you remember being a kid on Christmas…. so excited to open your long awaited gifts? Do you remember imagining what each box might have in it? Maybe it’s a book you’ve been looking forward to?… or a new My Little Pony? Maybe it’s that new Lego set (and if it’s not, you’re sure you broke something by the rattling in the box). Now remember that feeling when you were sure you were about to open the thing you’ve most wanted… only to find underwear, or socks (and not the fancy or fun kind).

Recently for my birthday, my folks wanted to shower me with special gifts, because despite the fact that this was my 38th birthday, it’s been a rough few years, and they wanted to cheer me up and help me feel celebrated and appreciated. Mom went out of her way to find me things both on my Amazon wish list, and off. As I opened my gifts, two of them stood out. The fist to stand out was a DVD of classic TV “special episodes”. I love a good set of Classic TV episodes, so I quickly checked to see what the episodes were. The box was kind enough to list the show and a blurb on each episode. Without going into detail, I quickly realized “special” meant “most depressing and ‘groundbreaking’”. The second gift to stand out was a drawing tablet to help me make sketch designs into files for a computer and hopefully start making those designs into craft projects on our Cricut, or other places I’ve been dreaming about for ages. I went from sheer excitement, to pretty quick disappointment when we learned that this new tablet won’t work with any of our devices, so it’s pretty much a brick with a pen.

I was sitting and thinking about these gifts, and realizing something pretty interesting about it. With the DVD of episodes I laughed. I’m still laughing about it actually. I think it’s hilarious that my sweet Mom tried to cheer me up with these “special episodes”, and they turned out to be the most depressing episodes (to be fair, Amazon didn’t list the episode descriptions, so she bought it without seeing that). And when I found out about the tablet, my disappointment flooded over to my attitude.

I think sometimes we’re like that with answers to our prayers. Sometimes we pray for something, and God answers in a way that we don’t expect (or even want), and sometimes we’ll see that and laugh, or be excited about. Sometimes we can see the irony, or the call to grow even in an answered prayer. Most specifically, I have seen often when we pray for “patience”, God gives us opportunities to be patient, and it can feel awful, or we can choose to see the irony. Other times when God doesn’t answer how we expect, our disappointment, or confusion can come out in our actions, and attitudes. I truly believe God always answers prayer, but not always on our time frame, and not often how we’d like or expect. Sometimes we’re thrilled, because He answers in ways that look or feel better than we’d hoped. Other times He answers in ways that are harder, longer, or more painful than we’d hope. In all those answers though, how we respond can be very important, and can really show our heart towards Him. I laughed when I saw the DVD because I know full well that Mom didn’t realize what the episodes were, but wanted to get me something special. I chose to see the love in that gift, not just the “mistake” or “inappropriateness” of the item. With the tablet, I let my emotions effect my attitude, but I also knew it wasn’t her or dad’s fault. I took a moment (ok, like an hour or two) to process, and grieve the idea of this lovely gift and tool not being what I hoped, and now I’m taking a little pause, and we will work together to find other ways to do what I hoped this tool could do.

This isn’t to pat myself on the back, or even say I think I have any answers. But these two gifts helped me see I need to look at how I treat God’s gifts just as preciously as how I treat my reactions to gifts from a loved one. With honesty, appreciation, maybe a little grief, but mostly gratitude and trust that even if it’s not what I was dreaming of, it was given in love, and with a purpose and plan. And let’s be honest, socks get a bad reputation as gifts. Sometimes socks are awesome gifts…. I can’t really defend underwear though unless you know the person is super in need ;) .

Oh, and finally… I loved all my gifts (and I even watched a couple of the "special episodes", and the ones I chose weren't half bad). I know they were made, and bought, and given with love, and care, and each one is special in it’s own way. (and the photo is of a hand mad "mug rug", and a new book I was given for my birthday... both serving as inspiration as I reflect on a lovely week)

[rawdatabyp3]

True North Versus Magnetic North w/Jeff Jorgensen

We’re back and we brought some changes. Today, join us for an electrifying episode featuring none other than Jeff Jorgensen, the Chief Investment Officer at Cap Six!

Hold onto your seats as Jeff takes us on a rollercoaster ride through his incredible journey from pro baseball player to Wall Street wizard. Get ready to have your mind blown as he dishes out the juiciest insights on using data and tech to stay on top of the game, steer clear of blunders, and achieve mind-boggling success!

But wait, there's more! Jeff's knack for turning complex investing ideas into thrilling sports analogies will have you on the edge of your seat but won’t leave you disappointed. He'll emphasize the power of building an all-star team and making tiny tweaks that lead to colossal victories in life, data, and investing!

And that's not all! Our very own Justin Mannhardt, our newest co-host extraordinaire, will throw in his two cents and insights coming. While we dive into Jeff's collaboration with P3 to create game-changing decision-making tools, you'll also glimpse the wild ride we enjoy with our clients.

This episode will leave you buzzing with energy and grounded in the reality of data's transformative potential for old-school industries. Rob, Justin, and Jeff will inspire you to adopt a go-getter mentality, focused on relentless growth and learning. So, strap in, folks, because this is an episode you won't want to miss!

Also in this episode: Flash Gordon

Highlander

Needful Things

Moneyball

The Hangover Equations scene

The Martian “You can accept that or get to work”

Animal House: Band scene

Check out this episode!

[thejenhardy]

Women In Podcasting - the woman behind the magazine

Hey there, fabulous folks! Today in the latest episode of the "Fabulous Over Fifty" podcast host Jen Hardy chats with an awesome guest, Kathy Barron - Founder and editor-in-chief of "Women Who Podcast" Magazine, about all things podcasting, and she's seriously inspiring.

There's so much to learn from Kathy in this episode, from the importance of knowing your why before starting a podcast to how to combat "podfade" (when you get burnt out on producing content). We also got some great tips on how to start a successful podcast without breaking the bank - it turns out you don't need the fanciest equipment to get started.

But perhaps the most valuable lesson we learned was about the power of community. And the idea that if we see a need, we can jump in and create the solution, just like Kathy did when she started "Women Who Podcast" magazine! Jen stresses the importance of women supporting one another in podcasting and beyond, because, isn't it just time? So, if you're thinking of starting a podcast or are simply a fan of great content produced by awesome women, be sure to check out this episode of "Fabulous Over Fifty." You won't be disappointed!

Thank you for joining me today!

I'm having a blast creating Fabulous Over 50 & it would be an honor to have you share it with someone who would enjoy it. Thank you!

Want more? Go to the website and you'll find many ways to live your best life over 50!

I'd love to hear what you think about this episode, and what you'd like to hear about in the future. Send me a message HERE.

Have a blessed week,

Jen

Want to connect on social? You can find me (Jen) in the following places:

Facebook

Instagram

LinkedIn

 And you can find Kathy Barron:

@womenwhosarcast

@womenwhopodcastmagazine

www.womenwhopodcastmag.com

  Check out this episode!

[edmturnmeon]

Ayutthaya: A Magical Time Travel To Ancient City

IvanYolo Oh boy, let me tell you about my obsession with the ancient city of Phra Si Nakhon Ayutthaya in Thailand! It all started when I got hooked on Thai TV dramas set in the Ayutthaya era, like Love Destiny and Wanthong. Those shows transported me to a world of ornate palaces, colourful temples, and mysterious ruins. I couldn't help but dream of exploring the real-life version of that fantastic place.So, when I finally had the chance to go to Bangkok for a holiday trip, I knew I had to make a journey to Phra Si Nakhon Ayutthaya. And let me tell you, it did not disappoint! I was blown away by the sheer grandeur of the ancient city. From towering pagodas to intricate stone carvings, every inch of the place was a feast for the eyes.But that's not all, folks! I also got to check off another item on my bucket list during the trip. I finally laid eyes on the majestic Chao Phraya river. It was like a dream come true! I couldn't believe I was actually there, watching the shimmering water flow by as boats glided past.All in all, my Thailand adventure was a wild ride of fulfilling my TV-inspired dreams and soaking up the country's rich history and natural beauty. If you haven't been to Phra Si Nakhon Ayutthaya or the Chao Phraya river yet, put them on your travel wish list ASAP! You won't regret it.

From Bangkok To Ayutthaya by Car

Ayutthaya Historical Park is one of the most iconic landmarks in Thailand, boasting a rich cultural heritage and captivating visitors from around the world. Located in the ancient city of Ayutthaya, once the capital of the Kingdom of Siam, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is home to numerous temples, palaces, and other historical structures that offer a glimpse into Thailand's glorious past.We decided to ditch the train and hired a Grab car instead, because, let's face it, we're all about that spontaneous life. The ride took around one and a half hours from Bangkok, and set us back about 900 baht. Not too shabby, right?We hit the road around 10.30 am, eager to explore the ruins and soak up some history. But let me tell you, arriving at noon was not the brightest idea. The blazing sun was beating down on us like a fiery demon, and we desperately wished we'd brought some hats to shield our precious faces. Pro tip: if you're planning a trip to Ayutthaya, try to avoid the high noon heat if you value your skin!We considered this a one-day trip to Ayutthaya attractions, and because of this, we missed out on exploring the shopping malls in Bangkok. I told myself I would be back for more exploration and continue with the unfinished street photography in Bangkok city.

Temples & Ruins in Ayutthaya

Wat Phra Si Sanphet - Contax G1, Fujicolor Superia X-Tra 400 film // February 2023 There are several sites with ancient temples, and I'm unsure about the names. After recalling from Google Maps, I guess the first few we visited were Wat Phra Ram and Wat Phra Si Sanphet. I couldn't believe I was actually here, surrounded by such rich history and intricate architecture. The sense of surrealism was almost overwhelming. It's hard to put into words just how stunning these structures are. But trust me, when you see them with your own eyes, you'll understand.Wat Phra Ram is known for its towering prang or spire and its serene surroundings, making it a popular destination for visitors seeking peace and tranquility. The temple also boasts beautiful gardens and well-preserved ruins, making it a must-visit for history buffs and nature lovers alike.I was all in with my digital and Contax G1 film camera and never missed a shot of snapping photos of ancient Buddha statues, bricks and stones. I was happy to see the elephant rides similar or identical to what I have seen in Thai movies or dramas.

Wandering Around at Wat Phra Ram & Wat Phra Si Sanphet

Wat Phra Ram - Contax G1, Fujicolor Superia X-Tra 400 film // February 2023

Wihan Phra Mongkhon Bophit - Contax G1, Fujicolor Superia X-Tra 400 film // February 2023 After wandering at Wat Phra Ram. we headed to the nearest site which is the Wat Phra Si Sanphet. Wat Phra Si Sanphet is an ancient temple located in the city of Ayutthaya, Thailand. It was built in the 15th century and was used as a royal temple by the kings of the Ayutthaya Kingdom. The temple is known for its impressive three chedis or stupas, which contain the ashes of the past kings. Today, the temple is a popular tourist attraction and a testament to Thailand's rich cultural heritage.We took a short walk into the Wihan Phra Mongkhon Bophit and gained some knowledge about the Buddha statue heads displayed inside the temple. The most important rule is to remove the shoes and cover up your body before entering.Following our visit to the first two temples, we arranged for a tuk-tuk to take us to several other temple locations, including Wat Ratchaburana, Wat Mahathat, Wat Chaiwatthanaram, and Wat Lokaya Sutharam. Despite the scorching sun, we managed to explore and visit a total of six temples and ruins within five hours. Don't forget to wear a cap to protect yourself from the heat and don't forget to rehydrate! There are a few drink vendors that sells fruit juice and can drinks that can help overcome with thirst during the sunny day.

Climbing Up the Principle Prang in Wat Ratchaburana

Wat Ratchaburana - Fujifilm X-T4 One of my most memorable experiences was climbing up to The Principle Prang in Wat Ratchaburana. The stone staircase was incredibly steep, and because I am short and the gaps between the steps were steep too, I had to hold onto the side and descend sideways, like a crab. Although it may have looked peculiar to onlookers, I had no choice but to do so to make my way down safely.The huge tower reminds me of the Mortal Kombat (1995) ending scene, and guess what? The movie was filmed at Wat Chaiwatthanaram. How bizarre! There was nothing much to do here, so we moved on to the next location.

The Iconic Buddha Statue Head In Tree Roots

Wat Mahathat - Contax G1, Fujicolor Superia X-Tra 400 film // February 2023

Wat Mahathat Tourist - Contax G1, Fujicolor Superia X-Tra 400 film // February 2023 I guess the buddha statue head trapped under the banyan tree is one of the most photograph scene in Ayutthaya. The Buddha statue head tree refers to an iconic feature located in Wat Mahathat, an ancient Buddhist temple in Ayutthaya, Thailand. The feature is a stone statue of Buddha's head, which has become entwined in the roots of a banyan tree over time, creating a striking and unique sight.The exact origin and history of the Buddha head entwined in the tree roots remain a mystery, but it is believed to have been created during the Ayutthaya period in the 14th century. Today, it is one of the most popular attractions at the temple as we can see many tourists taking photos of this spot.

Wat Lokaya Sutharam

Wat Lokaya Sutharam​ - Fujifilm X-T4 As we arrived at Wat Lokaya Sutharam, we were struck by the impressive sight of the enormous reclining Buddha statue. It was truly a magnificent sight to behold, and we couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as we gazed upon it. The sheer size of the statue was breathtaking, and we could see the incredible level of detail that had gone into creating it.The visit to Wat Lokaya Sutharam only took a few minutes, and I was there for a quick photo snapshot. There was nothing much to do here, and then we moved on to the next most exciting temples in Ayutthaya Historical Park, which is the Wat Chaiwatthanaram​.

Wat Chaiwatthanaram

Wat Chaiwatthanaram - Fujifilm X-T4

Wat Chaiwatthanaram - Fujifilm X-T4 This is one of the most interesting temples that I have visited. The main prang, or tower, in the center of the temple complex stands 35 meters tall and is surrounded by eight smaller prangs. I didn't noticed that we can go up to the main prang for this one as I was busy taking photos. There are also shops that rent/sell traditional Thai clothing located by the roadside.Another attraction at this location is the opportunity for photoshoots. Many locals come here to have their photos taken while dressed in traditional Thai clothing called Chut Thai Ayutthaya, which is similar to what is seen in ancient Ayutthaya TV dramas and in Mortal Kombat! It is a beautiful sight to witness firsthand.

Final Thoughts

When planning a visit to this historical destination, it's important to keep in mind that the weather can play a significant role in your experience. While the heat can be intense, there are ways to prepare and stay comfortable. Consider bringing sunscreen, a hat, or an umbrella to shield yourself from the sun's rays. Staying hydrated is also crucial, so make sure to pack plenty of water and other beverages to keep you refreshed.Despite the weather, my visit to this place was one of the most inspiring travel experiences of my life. The rich history and cultural significance of the site were truly awe-inspiring, and I was struck by the sheer beauty of the architecture and landscape. I felt a deep connection to the past as I explored the ancient ruins and learned about the stories and legends that had been passed down through generations.As I left this magical place in Ayutthaya, I couldn't help but feel a sense of adventure and excitement for what lay ahead. I was inspired to seek out new destinations and explore more of the world's treasures, perhaps even following in the footsteps of legendary adventurers like Lara Croft. The memories of my journey will stay with me forever, and I am grateful for the opportunity to have experienced such a remarkable place.

Photo Gallery

Wat Phra Ram - Contax G1, Fujicolor Superia X-Tra 400 film // February 2023 Wat Phra Ram - Contax G1, Fujicolor Superia X-Tra 400 film // February 2023 Read the full article

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Night and Day

Bella reclined on a lounge chair nursing a martini as she watched her coworkers sway and flirt. She had humored them to come out tonight since she rain-checked the last three invitations. Truth be told, there were more pressing matters that remained on her mind, like the investigation of disappearances and growing civil unrest in the city. And there was the mounting suspicion towards Fontaine and the smuggling ring, Ryan’s punishments growing harsher on Rapture’s citizens, and additional information her most trusted informant hinted to her…

Ah, she was becoming a regular workaholic now.  How ironic compared to when she first wanted to make her mark on the city writing frivolous articles about the city’s entertainment and food districts.  

Dressed in a lovely black cocktail dress with her pearls, matching black gloves, and pumps, she swirled her drink content to watch as other couples swayed and laughed. She’d finish her drink then head home, it was going to be a long day tomorrow and as they said, early to bed, early to rise.  

Unfortunately, her one coworker had other ideas…

“C’mon, Bella,” Stanley Poole leaned into the side of the plush sofa Bella had reclined upon. “I just got the gig of a lifetime, you should get in on the action before it’s off the shelves, heh heh!”

“Stan, sweetie,” Bella admonished him cooly. “When a woman says maybe another time, she really means not in this lifetime.”

“Aw, Bella, you wound my poor, broken heart,” Poole placed a hand on his heart in a vague attempt to look hurt.  “Now, I don’t know what I did to deserve such treatment! It’ll be ages before you see me again. Get it while it’s hot, baby! Heheh.” While he could sell any story to regular folk, Bella always saw through any attempt at wooing her.  

It’s not to say she didn’t respect him as an investigative journalist.  Poole was more ambitious and cunning than most people gave him credit for. That alone had allowed him to get the hottest stories out to the presses. He was an excellent investigator, one of the best if she was honest.  But there was also something slimy about the man that made him about as attractive as a sea slug. 

She shook her head, suppressing a dry chuckle. “Then I suppose it’s my loss. Now, why don’t you run along and bug someone else?”

“Hey, I’m great at spinning stories,” Poole retorted as he leaned a little further into Bella’s space. The scent of the alcohol he was drinking flooded her sinuses, it made her a touch nauseous. “Why won’t you let me take you for a spin, huh?  You waitin’ on someone else?”

“As a matter of fact, I am!” She really wasn’t, but Bella wanted out of this conversation before she’d have to resort to tossing her drink at him. Hopefully, the little lie would be enough to deter him. It looked like it did, at least for a moment, then he arched an eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I oughtta shake the poor schmuck’s hand and warn him what he’s getting into!”  The joke barely veiled the disappointed venom in Poole’s voice. 

“Ah, I’m sure you don’t want to trouble yourself.”

“Ooooh, what? Your guy gonna get intimidated that his dame is talking to another ‘gent?”

“Coworker,” Bella corrected, her voice now growing to the edge of irritation and her temper beginning to flare.  Her eyes narrowed. “Only a fool would be intimidated by you, Poole.”  She was about to conclude with another brutal comeback before she felt a broad hand graze her shoulder from behind. 

“Um, s-sorry I’m late.  I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long, Bella.”

The voice was gentle but familiar. When Bella turned to the gentleman behind her, a flash of recognition and relief washed over her features.

Romero.

A smile of relief crept on her face, this was indeed a well-timed and welcomed surprise. 

She had met Romero towards the end of her restaurant critic career. After a scathing but warranted critique on a restaurant she reviewed, Bella had received some rather … unflattering letters from the head chef. When her editor-in-chief wouldn't take the harassment seriously, Bella took matters into her own hands.  Not one to take an insult lying down, she stormed back to the restaurant with the letters in her fist, about to rip the pompous bastard a new hole before she quite literally collided with Romero at the entrance. 

He was incredibly apologetic and gentlemanly about bumping into her (even if it was mostly her fault), and offered to buy her a coffee as an apology. Having her hot temper cool for a moment, Bella accepted the offer. He was a bit awkward but very handsome, and kind.  Kindness was in short supply down here so she respected people who weren’t afraid to show it. 

As they sipped their hot beverages, Romero allowed Bella to vent about the chef's uncouth words and how her boss more or less told her to pound sand. He seemed equal parts horrified and very sympathetic to her situation. 

About a day later, another letter was delivered to her at the Tribune. This time it was a very well-written apology message from the restaurant owner and should she wish compensation for such a horrendous experience, please take it up with their accountant, Romero.

Funnily enough, he never mentioned being the restaurant's accountant the entire time Bella spilled her guts to him.  

So, she replied back, ‘I will forgive and forget all transgressions made against myself on one condition: free coffee at all and any establishments that Romero is employed under, since his company has been the most agreeable amongst your staff.’

After that, Bella made it a habit of visiting the various restaurants that Romero told her where he worked, the coffee was always delicious, it helped her unwind and write rough drafts of her articles. Sometimes he’d stop in while looking over the accounts and talk with her for a while, he’d occasionally bring a sweet with him.  He always looked so tired but seemed to enjoy her company nonetheless.  Bella couldn’t deny that she enjoyed spending time with him as well.  

Romero must have overheard her conversation with Poole and decided to come to her rescue.  She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.  Recovering with as much coy and grace as she could muster, Bella played along with Romero’s intervention.  “There you are, stranger!”  She got up from her seat, almost a little too quickly, and greeted Romero with a kiss on the cheek, hoping the gesture would show her genuine appreciation for arriving when he did and to throw an icy bucket of cold water on Poole’s ego.  

“No, I wasn’t waiting too long. Just talking to my coworker.  Stanley, this is Romero.  Romero, Stanley Poole. We work together at the Tribune.”  She produced one of the most charming smiles toward Poole that clearly read ‘Eat shit.’  That was one way to emancipate a cocky son-of-a-bitch. As soon as Romero had stepped into view, Poole immediately took a step back, looking quite embarrassed with himself. Good.

Romero seemed to freeze as soon as Bella’s lips made contact with his cheek. After a solid second, he shook himself out of it and offered Poole a courteous, firm handshake, his smile now surprisingly cool. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Poole.”

Seeing his ego taking a hit was quite the treat for Bella. Poole reached for Romero’s hand and shook it with less vigor, his arm resembled a limp noodle compared to the broad, muscular arms of her friend. “Sure, sure. Pleasure’s mine,” he mumbled, though his eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing look.  "Um, well, I'm gonna hit the bar before I get outta here then. Uh, have a nice night, kids!"  

Bella couldn't help but sneer at Poole's retreating form. Once he was gone, she turned back to Romero, a coy grin tugging at her lips. "You, sir, have impeccable timing coming to my aid."

He offered a bashful smile in return, "It's lucky you're easy to find, then."

Bella chuckled in response. "I haven't seen you in… goodness! You look good.  What are you doing here?”

His eyes still looked as tired as she remembered, but his smile was genuine and soft.  “More or less the same as last time you saw me.  I’m managing the finances for this place, too. They own the restaurant upstairs and the lounge down here.  I was about to leave when I thought I heard your voice, so I…” He averted his eyes, blushing slightly. “I didn’t want to assume but it didn’t look like you were enjoying yourself.  I’m… sorry if I was out of line.”

Tilting her head, Bella brought Romero’s eyes back to her face.  Ever the gentleman as always.  Damn, he was positively endearing. “Honestly, you saved Mr. Poole from getting a martini slapped in his face.” She meant it as a joke, but she saw Romero still seem a bit nervous. “You have nothing to apologize for.  Given our track record, you have a way of making my bad nights end on a good note.”

Before Romero could reply, suddenly, the band on stage began to play the sweet melody of Night and Day floated through the air. "Oh, I love this song," Bella murmured softly. 

The next words rushed out of Romero before he could even think. “Wouldyouliketodance?”

“What?”

“I–”  Romero’s entire face blushed furiously.  “I meant–”

“You asked if I wanted to dance?”

“I– yes.”

“Right now?”

“Y-yes.”

“I’d like that.”

His eyes widened a flash of relief crossed his features before he timidly offered his arm. As Bella looped her arm with his, she couldn’t help but notice strong he felt, yet it felt like he was handling her as if she were made of glass. For some reason, it made her chest feel light and heavy at the same time. 

There was just the slightest moment of hesitation, so miniscule she hardly noticed it before Romero placed a hand to the small of her back, which caused Bella to rest her’s on his should and place her free hand in his. Despite his tall stature, he moved with surprising ease leading her on the dancefloor, her light steps matching his after a moment of adjusting.

And for a moment, they were silent. Yet the silence was met with an anticipated heaviness. Bella couldn’t quite look Romero directly in the eye, but she felt his gaze on her.  It felt like something needed to be said, but what?

“Are you–?”

“I was–”

“Ah–”

“I’m sorry–”

“No, no,” Bella urged.  “You first, I insist.”

“I was… hoping I’d see you again.  You haven’t been around for our coffee talks in so long. It was worried.”

How long had it been? Weeks? Months? After Bella entered a new career field much of her free time was taken up, whether it was chasing down a lead, ducking from Fontaine’s goons, late nights at the office, or finding one of Diablo’s dead drops. 

“Were you worried about me?” She tried to sound playful, but her curiosity was evident.

“A bit.  But I was relieved whenever I saw a new article written by you in the paper.” 

“Been keeping up on me, have you?”

“Maybe a little.”  

Bella allowed him to sway her further into the dance floor, keeping her tempo to match his.  It felt… easy with him. Effortless, yet secure.  This time she looked into Romero’s eyes, he was being genuine.  Bella wasn’t one to allow other people’s feelings hold her back from her decisions, and yet, she felt a small flicker of guilt. 

“I’m sorry I made you worry. My job ate up my life for a while, but… I haven’t been a good friend to you, Romero.  I hope you can forgive me.”

“I just want you to be safe.  I admire your courage for writing about how Fontaine has been treating the people when no one is looking, but… he’s not a nice man.”

Understatement of the century.  Bella had nearly gotten caught by  by his men while she was snooping around the fisheries.  That time she managed to find contraband but was unable to collect any definite proof.  Just enough info to publish and get the pot stirring in the public’s eye.  She had learned to be more careful, but so had Fontaine’s security. 

And when it wasn’t Fontaine, it was Andrew Ryan’s iron fist coming down with harsher and harsher punishments to Rapture’s citizens. He was getting paranoid and for good reason. Fontaine was cunning, as as Romero put it, not nice. Then there was the psychiatrist, Sophia Lamb.  It was no secret she publicly opposed Ryan’s policies, but word around the office was that something bigger was going on at in patient resort, Dionysus Park. As Rapture grew, so did her troubles.  It was never ending.

“I’m being careful,” she attempted to comfort him.  “Promise.  My job does come with its own line of angry critics, but I have friends to help me, too.”

Jaime was always good for a moral boost when she reached a dead end.  Xochitl always left the back door to La Sirena open if she needed a place to hide and offer advice when needed.  Then there was her invisible partner, El Diablo. He was simultaneous infuriating yet incredibly helpful, she did consider him an invaluable ally. 

Friends were important to have, especially when you resided in an a pocket of air at the bottom of the Atlantic.

“I hope you’ll consider me one of them,” Romero whispered earnestly.  “Um, to help you.  If you ever need it.  I don’t know how, but I want to.  Help you.”

Awkward as always, but so incredibly sweet.  “I appreciate it, thank you, Romero.” As they spinned on the dancefloor, she felt herself being pulled closer than she thought possible.  His face so close she could almost feel the warmth of his blush radiate off of him.

It made her feel very seen, like she had his complete focus.  It also…

…made her feel… safe. Perhaps something else? Something more…?

Suddenly, a fanfare of trumpets erupted from the stage brought Bella fully out of the moment.  Everyone and their mother was now clambering onto the dancefloor, some pumping into the pair.  Momentarily crowded, Bella found Romero’s hand and pulled him off of the dancefloor.  

“Well, that seems to be a popular number!” She let out a breathless laugh.  Romero let out a sigh of relief, then he froze.  When they both looked down, their hands were still connected. As if they were being caught doing the most scandalous, sinful act of all, they released in unison. 

What is wrong with me?  It’s not as if I’m a blushing virgin, Bella internally lamented.

“Well “  She began, trying not to sound like a blushing fool.  “Thank you for indulging me.  I suppose I should get going,” she begun to grab his wristlet that was left on the seat moments ago.  “Have a long day at the office tomorrow.”

Something almost desperate flashed across Romero’s eyes as Bella began to take her leave.  “Wait!  Could I walk you home?  If you’d like.”

It seems Romero was trying to make up for lost time.  Not that she minded.  She didn’t mind that at all.

“I’d like that.”

~ ~ ~

Walking side by side, Bella tugged at the blue jacket that Romero so graciously placed on her shoulders to protect her from the chill of Raptures manufactured air. They talked the whole way, though they avoided topics of Romero’s job, due to how exhausted he felt by it already.  Bella understood the notion completely, as there were certain things pertaining to her job she couldn’t discuss less they worry.

So they talked about her family instead.

“Last time we spoke,” Romero began.  “You mentioned your mother was at the Medical Pavalion.  Has she recovered since then?”

“‘Recovered?’” Bella dumbly echoed back before it clicked.  “Oh!  No, no, it’s not like that.  Mama is a cardiologist – a heart doctor.  She’s currently looking into medical applications of improving weak hearts with ADAM.  She’s doing well, at least from when we last spoke.”  Bella made a note to try to call her mother again.  She was a shrewd woman, but she knew she often freated over Bella’s safety ever since she moved out of their home. 

Romero’s eyes widened, embarrassed, as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Oh!  I see!  Sorry, um, that sounds very interesting, though.  And helpful!  What about your father? You mentioned you two had a fight a long time ago and haven’t been talking?”

Bella gave a regretful sigh.  “Not much has changed on that front.  He’s… my dad and I had very conflicting opinions on how I should live my life.  I honestly haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“I’m… very sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” she shook her head, dismissing the unneeded apology.  “I can make my own choices and mistakes without his approval.” There was a quick lull in the conversation before Bella realized that outside of Romero’s job as an accountant, she didn’t know much about his life outside of work.  “What about you?  Do you have any family down here?”

“...no, I came here alone.”  

It was very matter of fact, so Bella decided not to pry further.  It then dawned on the woman there was a particularly tricky topic she should have confirmed with him a while ago, probably before she agreed to dance with him earlier.

“So, there’s no one else in your life at the moment?  No one special?”

The confused man blinked at her for a moment until the inevitable lightbulb clicked.  “Special…?  Oh!  Oh, um, no.  I–no.”  And there was that blush again.  He flustered so easily, Bella would have to restrain herself from using that tidbit of knowledge for evil purposes.  “What about you?  Do you… have someone in your life right now?”

“I do not.”  She said while gaugging his reaction.  She noted a look of relief for the briefest of moments, but he averted his eyes.  It was amazing how this man practically swept her off her feet not even an hour ago behave so timidly now.  It was… endearing. 

Before long, they had reached the apartment complex Bella loved in, located in the back of a cosmetics store, and up one floor.

“Well, this is me,” she announced as she removed the jacket Romero had lent her, shivering slightly as her shoulders met with the air.  “Thank you for everything tonight.  You know, it almost felt like an accidental date!”

The poor man bristled and gave a nervous chuckle.  “Yeah, a little.”

Bella waited for something else to be said, but nothing seemed to happen. Admitting defeat, she gave Romero his jacket back before looking towards the entrance to her home.

“Well.”

“Well…”

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you.  Sooner than later, hopefully.”

He could only nod in response. 

“Goodnight, Romero.”

“G-goodnight, Bella.” He sounded almost hesitant, as if there was something he wanted to say but missed his chance.

Bella had opened the door ajar and was about to walk inside until… she stopped.  Then closed the door and turned back to the nervous man.

“Romero.”

“Y-yes?”

Deep breath, you can do this, Bella.  “I have an inquiry for you,” she hardened her resolved, unsure why it was so difficult for her to get this out.  “I know we’re both embedded into our jobs right now, but I missed spending time with you. And I’d like to do it again.  I wanted to know… if you’d ever like t–”

“MAYIHAVETHEPLEASUREOFTAKINGYOUONAPROPERDATE?”

All of the air escaped Bella’s lungs in one fell swoop.  “Romerrrooooo…!  I was trying to say that!  Even though I am going to say yes, let a lady finish!”

“I-I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed–”   Pause.  “Wait, you… want to?”

“Yes,you silly man.”

The biggest, sweetest smile broke out on Romero’s face, a combination of disbelief and and genuine adoration shone through his eyes as he took a step forward. “I need to take care of a few things before the week is out.  May I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course you can!  I’ll be working late, let me give you my office line…” She snapped open her wristlet to fish for a piece of scrap paper and her pen, scribbling her office number and handing it to Romero. 

As his fingers brushed her hand to accept the paper, he didn’t let go.  Instead, the man brought her hand up to his face, placing a lingering, delicate kiss upon her knuckles. Bella felt like her heart was rupturing with butterflies banging against her ribcage. The gesture was so simple, but in this moment, seemed so intimate. “I’ll call you soon, Bella.”  It felt like a promise. 

Begrudgingly, Romero lingered for a moment before he released her hand, allowing her to step away.  Bella swooned a couple of steps back, before reluctantly turning to open the door to the apartment complex. She turned one final time to the gentleman at the foot of the porch.

“Goodnight, Romero.”

“Goodnight, Bella.”

He stood in front of the apartment building until Bella disappeared behind the door. In what felt like the first time in a lifetime of hardships and misery, finally, FINALLY, fate had graced him with a chance of happiness.  One chance was all that he needed.  

…

……

……… 

Sadly…

The two lovers would soon learn that fate was a cruel mistress in the sea that consumed all hopes and dreams, spiraling into a never-ending nightmare that would only end in tears.

[marshunter06]

“The Lakes”- Taylor Swift (Duncney)

A/N: Mad love to @fictional-affliction and her Popstar verse that everyone should go check out! (There’s 3 parts and a Trentney edition!!!) Literally don’t know what I was thinking when Courtney would be the best popstar ever, like how did I not write it ever??? Also a bonus of sorts to my own fic

The clear blue water with a gentle breeze in the air, surrounded by nature and all its glory. A safe haven away from the flashing lights, a much needed break from cancel culture with millions of mindless followers lurking in the shadows. The quiet of the early morning along with birds chirping about as they fly freely around the trees, a sense of peace washing over all who are lucky enough to gaze at the scenery. An A list celebrity sits with her wordsmith as they drown out the loud distractions for a moment of solace. The actress turned pop star faced world wide critism for following a different path, under the public eyes of scrutiny, the pressure was immense to be picture perfect. She survived international infamy from her days as a washed up reality teen sensation from a show she should have never signed up for. Her eyes find her lover, no, she would never regret meeting her muse.

Breaking News! Judge Courtney is ending after only being on air for three years! The lawyer turned television sensation is looking to make yet another career change, this time into the music industry. Rumor has it there’s been drama on the set, ever since Courtney reunited with her bad boy first love, her relationship with the producers have been rocky. His criminal past and their toxic relationship back when they were teens were dug up by some fans on Twitter, leading to the hashtag #CancelCourtneysCourt to trend. Now with her intention to move over to music, fans are even more upset. Not even her Grammy winner bff, Trent, can save her from this mess. Rumors of a budding romance between the longtime friends were buzzing, before Courtney dumped him for her old beau. Trentney fans took to Instagram to make their wrath known as they spam comments over all her posts calling her “a heartless user who only cares about herself”. Her page was soon made private with all her posts taken down after losing over a hundred thousand followers. She hasn’t been seen in the public eye for the past two weeks, though some eagle eyed fans claim to have spotted her over in England, she was always pictured alone and in disguise.

Her home would always be with her muse, but being by The Lakes seemed to be even more fitting. She could imagine a life here with him as they settled down away from people whose opinions no longer mattered. The critics and fake fans who marked her as a has been as they dug her grave was miles away, she’s never felt more at ease. Sitting on the grass just overlooking the water with ducks swimming about, her lover’s arms wrapped around her as she leaned further into his embrace. This was exactly where she belonged, she knew he felt the same.

After a month of silence, Courtney releases her first single, she’s at the top of Billboard’s top 100 songs. Her faithful followers stand by as they praise the song for its brilliant lyrics and catchy beat, unfortunately not everyone was so kind. Rolling Stones called the single “a desperate attempt at staying relevant”. Still this did not deter the rising musician to announce the drop of her first album. Despite being canceled, it’s still anticipated to be one of the best albums of the year given the few glimpses of song writing the media has seen of her work over the years with Trent. She co-wrote his Grammy nominated single from last year, though it was snubbed by the academy, still a great accomplishment and it broke the record for longest amount of weeks spent on the Top 100 list!

The sweet scent of flowers drift by, carried by the small gust of wind. Though summer was ending, the red roses were still in bloom. They would welt as the season shifts to autumn, but for now they stood tall for the world to enjoy their beauty. She wonders briefly how long a person could stay unmoving in this spot to be fully integrated into the wild, with branches of trees wrapping around them forming a cocoon. She would truly belong here if it were possible to be absorbed into the loving arms of nature, still sitting against her lover was just as satisfying.

I want auroras and sad prose

I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet

'Cause I haven't moved in years

And I want you right here

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground

With no one around to tweet it

While I bathe in cliffside pools

With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

Hours pass with the two inspired by the view and each other scribbling down words in a notebook. She’s always been his muse with a best selling novel and a sequel written with her in mind, while he’s been a source of inspiration for her newly released album. Fans could see the deep love from their relationship just by listening to her lyrics over the soft melodies. There were a mix of songs, upbeat and slow, but the theme was all the same— she was in love and no one could take this away from them.