#he seems so proud of himself overcoming Jin's side effect

[glytchedmuffins]

Tachikawa: "my own genius scares me".

[ibijau]

Bad Timeline, the final instalment!

aka in which my partner threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t make things at least a little less awful

The first thing Huaisang became conscious of was his own breathing, as well as a rhythmic sound resonating everywhere around him. His heartbeat, he realised. 

So his Qi deviation hadn’t killed him after all.

He tried to crack an eye open, but that proved above his strength. It seemed the deviation had drained all of his strength. It had been so intense and sudden, it would make sense for it to have some secondary effects. Nie Huaisang was used to this.

He accepted his weakened state, and decided to wait until he felt a little less like he was still dying. It took a while, longer than he might have expected. Still, he felt less and less cold, as if energy was starting to flow again in his body. After an eternity, he finally had the strength to open his eyes.

He would have gasped if he had the strength.

For the first time in years, he was in the Unclean Realm. 

Not only that, but he was in Mingjue’s bedroom, a place he hadn’t entered since… heavens. Probably not since before his brother’s wedding. Had he been brought there? Odd. He couldn’t remember where he had been when the Qi deviation started, but it had been very far from Qinghe. He’d avoided the area like the plague. And wasn’t Lan Wangji with him? That sentimental fool, he should have known better than to bring him to their brothers’ sect for recovery.

As he looked around a room that had never been his in this life, Huaisang’s eyes fell on a shape near him. A man in white and red, holding one of his bloodied wrists. Someone sharing energy with him, he realised, but that made less sense than the rest. Nobody in the Unclean Realm wore white. Nobody but… and he wouldn’t help him. Not him and not Mingjue, not anymore. They had made that very clear. 

Huaisang turned his head to better look, since in his state of extreme fatigue it was still hard to focus his gaze on anything. Yet there could be no mistake. He would have recognised Lan Xichen anywhere, even if his eyes had been gouged out, his ears sewn shut, his hands cut off. Nobody else had a presence that filled him with such hope and despair.

His movement must have caught Lan Xichen’s attention. His brother-in-law gasped in surprise, and the flow of energy stopped.

“You’re awake,” Lan Xichen cried, bringing Huaisang’s hand to his lips and kissing it. 

His mouth felt burning against Huaisang’s skin. He would have shivered at the intimate gesture, so out of place between them, but he did not even have the strength for that. Instead he stared blankly at his brother’s husband, trying to make sense of things.

Lan Xichen only peppered kisses on his hand and wrist, apparently unaware that he was staining his face with blood, just as his robes were more red than white already.

“I thought you were dead,” Lan Xichen whispered, his voice breaking on the last word, turning into a sob. “I thought I had lost you too.”

Huaisang blinked. He had a billion questions, but his throat was hurting too much to ask any of them.

“Why did you do this, A-Sang? What was it even supposed to accomplish?”

Lan Xichen sounded angry, which was odd. He also hadn’t called his brother-in-law A-Sang in… so many years. Not since long before that confrontation about Jin Guangshan. And why be so accusatory? Huaisang hadn’t chosen to have that Qi deviation, nor could Lan Xichen know about all the other ones he had willingly provoked before. It had been a genuine accident.

Although everything was getting more painful with every passing second, Huaisang opened his mouth to try and protest. A bad decision. Doing so hurt so much he nearly passed out.

“Don’t speak!” Lan Xichen ordered. “You slit your throat, you little… just sleep some more, will you? I’ll take care of you.”

Again, Huaisang wanted to protest. Before he could, he felt a jolt of spiritual energy against his temple, muddling his thoughts until there was only blackness again.

-

When he opened his eyes next, Huaisang felt less weak than the first time. To balance that out, everything hurt a lot more, in places that he might not have expected. Then again, he’d never had a Qi deviation so strong before. It really was a miracle that it hadn’t killed him. A miracle, or a curse.

Looking around, he saw Lan Xichen was still there, asleep against the side of the bed, his face and clothes still stained with blood although that had long dried. There was something off about his brother-in-law, as if Lan Xichen didn’t quite look the way he was supposed to, but… it had been years since they last saw each other, so perhaps that made sense.

Other things Huaisang could not explain as easily. The way the bedroom was decorated for example. It wasn’t so surprising to see calligraphies and paintings on the walls, Lan Xichen lived there too after all, but it was odd to see no Night Hunt trophies or weapons as well. Nie Mingjue had always been so proud of those. Things were also too well ordered, something that Huaisang knew was not like his brother. They were both messy people. One of the few things they had in common.

As they wandered around, Huaisang’s eyes fell on a beautiful fan hanging near the door. It felt… familiar, in a way that made his stomach twist and his heart beat faster. This fan, he thought, had no right to be there. First of all, because the only reason Mingjue would have a fan in his room was if Huaisang had gifted it to him, and after everything that had happened, he doubted his brother would have kept a present from him. Second of all, if there was nothing of Mingjue in the room, why should there be something of Huaisang? And finally… this fan wasn’t just any fan. He couldn’t explain quite why or how, but there was something about that fan that was wrong.

It was too far to make out what was painted on it, but Huaisang became convinced if he could see it, everything else would make sense.

Easier said than done. Although he was better than the first time he woke up, Huaisang still was in terrible shape. Attempting to sit up failed. When he tried to just turn on his side, pain flashed through his entire body, pulling at the edges of wounds he did not remember getting, perhaps even reopening some of them. It surprised him enough that he could not contain a pained cry, which in turn startled Lan Xichen awake.

“A-Sang? What… Why are you moving?”

Because everything is wrong, Huaisang tried to reply, but he found his throat would not allow it, and attempting to speak only caused more pain.

“You need rest,” Lan Xichen ordered, forcing him to lay on his back once more. “And don’t try to speak, the wound on your throat was…” his voice broke, his hands trembling on Huaisang’s shoulder. “I only needed time! After everything I only needed time! But I was finally coming home, and I found you like this?”

Heavy tears fell from Lan Xichen’s eyes, drawing clean lines on his face where blood had stained his skin. 

This too was wrong.

Home? The Unclean Realm hadn’t been a home for Huaisang since Mingjue had figured out the truth about Jin Guangshan’s death. In fact, if his brother found him there, he would probably finish what his Qi deviation had failed to do and murder him for daring to show his face again. 

It hurt to speak, but Huaisang ignored it so he could ask the question that really mattered the most.

“Where’s Mingjue?”

What little colour remained on Lan Xichen’s face drained away.

“Was this about him? A-Sang, why would you… he can’t be brought back. I asked Wei Wuxian when I was in Cloud Recesses, but it can’t be done, he’s too… his resentment is too strong, and without the Stygian Tiger Seal…”

Ignoring all pain, Huaisang sat up, feeling a sudden nausea that had nothing to do with his earlier Qi deviation.

“Seal?”

“It was destroyed, remember?” Lan Xichen insisted, grabbing Huaisang’s shoulders to push him down against the mattress. He was gentle, as if scared to hurt him, and that too was wrong. “Wei Wuxian checked, A-Yao… Sect Leader Jin did not lie about that, at least.”

The nausea became too strong. Huaisang barely had time to pull himself on his side before he started vomiting.

This was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

The room that bore no trace of Mingjue, but harboured a fan painted by Huaisang.

Jin Guangyao being sect leader.

The Stygian Tiger Seal, which Huaisang had made sure could never exist.

Lan Xichen, kissing his hands and crying for him, who even now was rubbing soothing circles on Huaisang’s back, his voice more tender than Huaisang had heard it since they had last seen each other in another life, at that Guanyin temple.

Even after his stomach was empty, Huaisang’s body still shook with dry hiccups and heavy spasms.

This was wrong, he thought, so exhausted that his eyes closed on their own, feeling cold darkness overcome him.

He did not want to be back in this place. The new life he’d obtained had been awful, yes, but he had been successful at least, he had managed what he had set out to do.

He did not want this other life where Xichen had neither friends nor love, where Mingjue was gone.

Be it by a failure of the ritual or by Qi deviation, death would have been a better fate.

-

It took weeks for Huaisang’s state to finally stabilise. Between the blood loss, the deep wounds and the dark energies provoked by the ritual, his body had suffered heavily. It was lucky, apparently, that Xichen had arrived when he did, saving his life in the nick of time. 

Lucky indeed. 

If his body was damaged, Huaisang’s mind, of course, was in a worse state. To be back in this life where he had lost so much was a fitting punishment for the things he had done in the other one. And he had done these things, even if he no longer lived in the world where they had happened. 

He had killed Jiang Cheng, when he was young and innocent and broken and so weak he could never have defended himself. He had massacred Jin Guangshan, happy to know that man would never harm anyone else. He had caused such death and destruction without batting an eye and…

Xichen patiently listened to him the first time Huaisang explained all this.

He listened the second time, too. 

And the third. 

And every other time that Huaisang, inhibitions destroyed by the potions that helped him deal with the pain, ranted about what he had done. Xichen never interrupted him, never tried to correct him, and instead stared at him with unbearable pity while holding his hand. 

Huaisang could have hated him for that. It was the sort of forgiving generosity that had led them to this mess with Jin Guangyao, how could Xichen have learned nothing from it?

“I wish I were still there,” he sighed one day, tired and light-headed. “I wasn’t done. I should have tried harder. I was getting there, I know I was getting there. I just needed a little more time.”

“Is it so bad here?” Xichen asked, squeezeing his hand.

He was always touching Huaisang in some fashion when he was there. And he was always there, as if scared of what might happen if he left for even one moment.

“Of course it’s awful here,” Huaisang retorted. “Back there… you had Mingjue. You were happy.”

“I have you now. I am happy.”

Huaisang laughed, then cried.

He had forgotten just how good his Xichen was, how much that wonderful, kind man had started to care about him. He had never deserved that affection before. Now, knowing what sort of a man he truly was, the things he could do if he felt justified, he deserved it less than ever.

“I’m not my brother.”

“I know,” Lan Xichen said, kissing his forehead. “But you’re my husband, and I am happy with that. Is it so hard to believe?”

Yes, Huaisang wanted to say.

He still remembered the way the other Lan Xichen had looked at him, on that day they all confronted him about Jin Guangshan’s death.That elegant face, usually so peaceful and happy, staring at him in disgust. He remembered as well it had been Lan Xichen who had first told the other two that Nie Huaisang could have been capable of murder.

His Xichen, the one in front of him, was still willing to forgive for now. But how long until he too turned against him, disgusted by what he was capable of? And then Huaisang would be alone. Worse than alone. He wouldn’t have the calming knowledge that at least, his brother and Xichen were happy. He wouldn’t have Lan Wangji’s friendship who had never bonded with him over impossible love. He wouldn’t have those occasional Night Hunts with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, both of them murdered here by the man who elsewhere had become their closest friend.

He must have started crying again at the thought. Xichen, without another word, pulled him into his arms and held him close until long after the tears had stopped. Until Huaisang, exhausted by emotion and painkillers, fell asleep against his husband's chest.

His last thought as he drifted off was that he had missed that closeness, and would miss it again once Xichen stopped pitying him and left again.

-

Over a month after Huaisang woke up, a visitor came to the Unclean Realm. It was not the first one. A few times, servants had knocked on the door and explained that someone needed to see Sect Leader Nie. Xichen had always refused so far, asking that the higher ranking disciples took care of this since neither he nor his husband were available. 

But this time, when a servant whispered to him the name of their guest, Xichen quickly ordered for the person to be brought to them. Odder still, he absolutely refused to tell Huaisang who was coming, though he seemed rather nervous about it.

When the door opened again, letting in their guest, Huaisang immediately understood his husband’s anxiety.

“Your husband said you had a Qi deviation,” Jiang Cheng explained as he stepped inside, “and that for some reason, it’d be good for you to see me.”

Huaisang stared at the other man. He could feel tears pooling in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks.

Often enough, during his more controlled Qi deviations and in innumerable nightmares, Huaisang had seen Jiang Cheng again. He always looked the way he had, that day in Yiling. Young. Weak. Desperate. So easy to kill. Not once in all those years had his hallucinations shown him the bitter, powerful man Jiang Cheng had become. Yet there he was, Sandu Shengshou in all his glory, the master of Lotus Piers.

Without thinking, Nie Huaisang sprung from the bed to hug the man he had murdered as a boy in another life. Jiang Cheng cursed and tensed, but Xichen must have told him something because he didn’t push away Huaisang the way he normally would have. He even allowed Huaisang to cry against his shoulder, awkwardly patting his back.

"Must have been a bad one," Jiang Cheng noted when Huaisang slumped back toward the bed, aided by his husband. 

"You have no idea," Huaisang sighed, glad to be laying down again. 

It would take a while to regain his strength. For the first time since waking up, he did not mind trying.

"Then learn to take better care of yourself," Jiang Cheng snapped, sitting by the bed. "You've created enough problems already. Lanling Jin is a mess, we don't need for Qinghe Nie to fall into chaos as well, just because you're so stupid you died!" 

"I'll try not to," Huaisang retorted, a little surprised to find he meant that. He had died twice already. It was an unpleasant experience he wasn't eager to revisit too soon. “Thank you for coming here. It means more to me than I can say.”

Jiang Cheng glared at him, clearly expecting some sort of mean spirited quip to follow. When none came, he glared even harder and complained about the state of things in Lanling, how he’d been forced to stay there almost permanently since the death of Jin Guangyao, and what an ungrateful brat his nephew was. Huaisang, silent at first, found himself drawn into the conversation for a little while until tiredness took over him.

“I guess after coming all this way, I’m just boring you?” Jiang Cheng complained when Huaisang couldn’t help a yawn. “Typical.”

“He’s still recovering,” Xichen remarked calmly, apparently missing the joke. “We are both very grateful for your visit. But perhaps it would be best to leave it at this for now?”

Surprisingly, Jiang Cheng did not protest. He stood up, and let Xichen walk him to the door. Huaisang heard the two of them exchange a few quiet words. Mostly thanks and apologies from Xichen, as well as the assurance that they would all have dinner together.

Huaisang had never left the room since waking up. He hadn’t expressed any desire for it, and Xichen had not made him. He supposed physically he was strong enough for it, so there was no reason to keep hiding. Emotionally he was less sure of himself but… having a meal with Jiang Cheng, alive and grown and well, was not the worst thing Huaisang could imagine going through.

When Jiang Cheng had left and the door was closed, Xichen came to sit on the bed, taking Huaisang’s hand.

“I would have called for Sizhui, but I do not know how to contact him,” Xichen explained. “He had not yet returned from travelling with Wen Ning when I left Gusu. Besides, since he is the one you spoke the most about, I thought it might be better if you saw Jiang Cheng. He is alive, and well.”

Huaisang frowned, unsure whether to be upset or relieved by that obvious attempt to prove he hadn’t done what he knew he had done.

“It was real. All of it, it was real.”

Xichen considered that, and leant to kiss his husband’s hair.

“It certainly was real to you, and I am sorry you went through that experience. But you are back with me now, and we'll make things better. That is, if you still want me at your side?”

Yes, because Huaisang was cruel and selfish enough to want that. 

No, because he had hurt Xichen so much already, and would likely keep hurting him if they stayed together. It was the sort of person he was. So it would be better to send Xichen back to Gusu and forget about everything they had shared. 

Yes again, because Huaisang was tired of being lonely, of missing Xichen. It had taken him so long to realise he loved his husband, and he just wasn't strong enough to refuse. Not when he was offered what he wanted the most. 

"Stay with me," Huaisang asked, linking their fingers together. 

"Always," Xichen promised. 

He had to mean it, Huaisang knew. His husband never lied. 

Hopefully, Xichen would never have to regret that choice again.

[gimmesumsuga]

BTS Reaction - you suffering from claustrophobia

Seokjin

You’ve been looking forward to this concert for months, eager as ever to receive Jin’s full attention for a whole night, which is part of the reason you feel so frustrated when your tell-tale signs of anxiety start to emerge, taking their hold.  You’ve never been good in crowds - they’ve always made you feel panicky, claustrophobic - so when more and more people start to pour into the venue, their hot, sticky bodies surrounding you, your heart rate starts to steadily creep up, a cold sweat running down your back as your hands turn clammy too.   “Jin… can we go to the bar?”  You shout over the chattering around you, trying not to let the panic in your voice show as you look up at him.  He looks around you, noting how tightly packed it is - it’ll be a nightmare to try and push through everyone. “Can you wait, Jagi?  We’ve got such a good spot!” he calls back, but then he sees the way your expression crumples, your eyes squeezing closed as you bite your lip, and slips his hand into yours.  “Doesn’t matter, c’mon.”  He cuts through the crowd in front of you, parting bodies so you can follow easily behind, keeping your eyes to the ground and trying not to cry.   When you get to the bar Jin quickly orders you a glass of water and tells you softly to drink, taking your hand again and softly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles, back and forth, back and forth, until your breathing has evened out again.  You glance up at him, embarrassed, only to see him smiling kindly down at you.   “We can stay here, if you want.  If you sit on my shoulders you’ll still have a perfect view.”  

Yoongi

Movie nights with Yoongi are a pretty regular thing, these days.  Although he might not like to admit it you know he likes cuddling up in bed to watch them just as much as you do, and watching them together late at night gives him the perfect excuse to fall asleep as the little spoon without ever having confess that that’s exactly what he wants after a long day of practice.  Horror movies are your favourite, but you never would have picked tonight’s feature.  It all takes place underground - a group of teens stalked by a monster lurking in the dark - and as you watch them squeeze through tight spaces and wade through waist deep water, you can feel yourself start to panic almost as much the actors you’re on the screen.   You thought you’d be ok, told yourself you’d be an idiot for letting your claustrophobia get to you from just a movie, but clearly you were wrong.  Only half an hour in Yoongi notices the way you’re gripping onto the front of his shirt, knuckles going white, your pretty lips parted as you take short, panicky breaths, eyes wide and fixed on the TV.   “Babe, I’m getting kind of tired,” he murmurs in those growling, dulcet tones of his, and the sound of his voice has the effect he was hoping for; you look away from the screen, blinking rapidly, your grip relaxing slightly.  He doesn’t want to call you out for being afraid - though he figures it’s the movie itself that’s the problem, you never having told him about your phobia before - and he knows you’d just deny there was an issue and torture yourself through it all if he brought it up, proud as you are.  “Let’s just put on some music - it’s shit anyway.”  

Hoseok Today’s been a blast.  From the moment you woke up Hobi was full of energy, dragging you out of bed early to surprise you with an impromptu date at your local theme park.  You’ve been on so many rides that you’ve lost count; passing time together in the queues with jokes and laughter, screaming your heads off on the roller coasters and log flumes, kissing sweetly to celebrate that you made it out alive after each one is over.  You save the biggest and best ride for last and it doesn’t disappoint - it’s the scariest, most thrilling of them all.  There corkscrew turns, death defying drops, and you’re both laughing, joyful, adrenaline fuelled tears streaming from the corner of your eyes as the carriage pulls into the dark underground station, almost back to the start but just not quite.   Suddenly, everything grinds to a complete halt.  The carriage no longer seems to be moving and you’re left hanging there, feet dangling in down into the dark as people start to murmur discontentedly around you, wondering what’s going on.  An announcement comes over the tannoy; the ride has encountered a temporary malfunction, there’s an engineer on the way to rectify the situation as soon as possible - please remain calm and do not attempt to leave the carriage.  Only, you can’t remain calm.  This is your worst nightmare, and you instantly start to panic, pulling at the straps that suddenly feel far too tight.   “Hobi, Hoseok, I need to get out.  Please, now, I need to get out now,” you cry, verging on hysteria, and though you can’t see it in the dark Hobi’s face is panicked too - he’s never seen you like this before.   “Baby?  Baby, it’s alright.”  He reaches out and grasps your hands in his own, holding them tight as he calms himself for the sake of keeping you calm too.  “Just focus on me, ok?  I’m gonna buy you the biggest ice cream after this baby, win you the biggest teddy here, just you wait and see.”

Namjoon

You should’ve never taken the lift.   There’s a reason you always avoid them - there’s a fear that would always overcomes you whenever you enclosed in such small, confined spaces, even for the shortest of times.  But Namjoon hadn’t wanted to walk twelve flights of stairs, and you hadn’t been able to find a legitimate excuse fast enough before the sliding doors to your own private hell had opened up and beckoned you inside.  You should’ve just told him how much they scared you, maybe not been so worried about him thinking you were silly or irrational, because now look what a mess you’ve found yourself in - all because you were too proud. You’re stuck, caught between two floors in an unmoving metal box suspended high above the ground, and you’re absolutely convinced that this is how you’re going to die.  Before Namjoon can even press the emergency call button you’ve already crumpled to the ground, clutching your chest like there’s a ten tonne weight on top of it, gasping for breath with wide, frightened eyes.   “Joonie,” you gasp, tears sliding down your cheeks as he instantly kneels in front of you, taking your face in both his hands.  “Joonie, I can’t breathe!”   “Yes you can,” he tells you calmly, wiping away each drop that falls from your eyes with his gentle touch.  How is he always so calm, so centered, even when it seems like your world is ending?  “Look at me, nothing else.  We’re gonna do this together, ok?  In through your nose, out through your mouth, nice deep breaths.”  You do your best to copy him, staring back into the dark, unblinking eyes that you love so much, trying to absorb that steadfast aura he exudes so naturally.  “That’s my girl.  Again with me, that’s it.”

Jimin

Park Jimin is going to be responsible for the death of you, of that you’re fairly certain.  Well, either that or your warrant of arrest for public indecency, either one of the two.  The boy can’t ever seem to keep his hands of you, no matter where you are or what time of days it is, and you’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s dragged you off somewhere for a quick fumble - behind a hedge, in the back of a car, you name it.  He’s insatiable, and honestly?  You’re easily led.  Who wouldn’t be, faced with the angelic eyes and sinful smirk your boyfriend is blessed with?   Today is no exception to the usual rule.  You’ve been watching him during dance practice, and apparently you’ve been making too much eye contact during his body rolls, or licking your lips too much when he thrusts his hips or something, because by the time it’s all over and done with Jimin’s practically dragging you out into the hall.  Even though his lips are on your neck and his hands are in your hair, you know he’s on the lookout for some dark, secret corner to better have his fill of you, and within minutes he thinks he’s found the ideal place.   And the janitor’s closet probably would be just that, if it weren’t for your crippling claustrophobia.  You know you’ll start to freak out the second you go in there and that door closes, so when Jimin tries to tug you inside with a devilish grin you resist, pulling back.   “Are you playing hard to get, kitten?”  he growls, taking hold of your belt loops and once again tugging on you, bringing your hips into sharp contact with his.  Oh, how you wish that closet was just that little bit bigger… that little bit brighter.  You’re going to pay for this act of rebellion, you can tell by the dark look that settles over his features when you coyly bite your lip, stepping back once more.  “Oh, you just wait ‘til I get you home.”  

Taehyung

You splutter, on the receiving end of a face full of water that Taehyung just splashed your way, your eyes narrowing in a glare as soon as you’ve wiped the chlorine out of them.  Tae thinks it’s hilarious, the way your hair is now plastered to your face, but soon learns his lesson when you launch yourself on him, dragging him down into the water with all your weight and ducking his head under, now shrieking with laughter yourself.   The water park was a brilliant idea.   You’ve loved swimming since you were a child, and frankly, any opportunity that gives you the chance to see Taehyung in his shorts and nothing else is always a welcome one.   It’s kept the two of your entertained for hours; splashing each, riding the wave machine, tossing a blow up ball back and forth, slipping down water slides on large inflatable rubber rings.   “Ah, Jagi, I haven’t shown you the best one yet!”  Taehyung tells you enthusiastically, grabbing your hand to hoist you out of the water onto the side, smiling that boxy grin of his.  You follow after him eagerly, climbing a staircase that seems like it never ends and enjoying the view of his wet shorts clinging to pert little bottom as he goes on ahead.  When you reach the top, Taehyung holds out his arms as if to show off the tiny little opening in the wall that you’re met with - a small circular hole that leads down in a dark, fully enclosed water slide.  “Ta-da!”   You can hear the water rushing on the inside, echoing off the plastic walls, and just the thought of even sitting at the opening has your pulse starting to flutter with anxiety.  On seeing your expression his smile falters, his arms dropping back down to his sides.   “We don’t have to do this one if you don’t want, Jagi,” he reassures you, taking your hand and pulling you into a loose cuddle, your soggy bodies sticking to one another.  “Really, it kind of scares me too.”  

Jungkook

You can’t wait to see him.  It’s only been a month but it feels like so much longer, and you’ve gone to so much effort to get the apartment looking nice for the moment Jungkook arrives.  You’ve made his favourite meal, rented his favourite movie, put on his favourite lingerie under his favourite of your outfits, and you’re just putting the finishing touches to everything when suddenly two hands settle over your eyes, pressing down tightly over them.   “Guess who?” comes a gentle, teasing voice. You know exactly who it is, and you know that your stomach should be doing rolls of joy now that he’s finally, rather than swerving with rolls of nausea.   It’s stupid, but having your vision restricted has always made you feel claustrophobic, and you can feel that panic coming on now, threatening to ruin the evening you’ve so carefully prepared.  You try to pull Jungkook’s hands away, laughing nervously, but he just holds them on tighter, laughing too, oblivious to your discomfort.  “Nuh-uh, you have to guess!”   Whimpering, you tug on those usually sweet, gentle hands once more, but Jungkook is far too strong.  It’s only when you start to feel like you can’t breathe that you finally give in and beg him to let you go in a loud, panicky voice, making him drop his hands immediately.  You spin on the spot, the guilt you feel on seeing his crestfallen face making you feel ten times worse.   “Sorry Kookie, I’m sorry,” you gush, rushing into his arms and letting him hold you tight as you start to cry.  He’s confused by your reaction but strokes your hair anyway, pressing kisses to your temples as he frowns with concern.   “Did I scare you, Noona?  I didn’t mean to - I just wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”