#he’s so fun to draw (I want to squeeze his head off until he implodes)

[thusteas]

No cause it went from 0 to 100 so fast

[internalsealpanic]

The Dog and Duck

summary: Dick Grayson is a terrible flirt (in more ways than one).

a/n: Special thanks to @jd-loves-everyone, @littleredwing89, @glorified-red, and @multifandomgirl-us for proofreading! This fic is based on a headcanon by @pricetagofficial (I think) that Dick Grayson is actually terrible at flirting which is just the cutest thing.

warnings: Potential cringe and terrible flirting advice

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The sound of voices and clinking of glasses mingle around you like a bustling symphony: discordant, rhythmic, clashing but endlessly vibrant. The scent of alcohol hung thick in the air, enough to taste and intoxicate. The amount of people in such a small space made something under your skin hum, whether it was simply an irritable Yasiri or the buzzing energy stored in your bones or maybe even a genuine discomfort, you weren’t entirely sure.

You sip lightly at the scotch in your glass, letting it burn through your throat, but it wasn’t enough to make the itch in it go away completely. 

 You watch Dick’s eyes intently as they slide past you, just over your shoulder. His sentences coalesce clumsily, syllables squishing and clipping at odd ends as his plush bottom lip catches between his teeth. His eyes are glossy with interest even in the dim lights of the pub. His pupils are blown and dark. You fight everything in you to stamp down the urge to huff or roll your eyes. Not that he would have noticed. You’re pretty sure you could stab someone in the eye and Dick wouldn’t even blink, not when he is so enraptured by whatever the hell is behind you. You feel a gross sticky sort of jealousy pool in the pit of your stomach.  You swallow it down not really knowing of any other way to deal with it. 

 You arch a brow, the tips of your nails tapping loudly against the lacquered wood of the table as Dick once again stumbles absentmindedly over his story about Wally West being living proof of the need for warning labels (for people). You click your teeth irritably while Yasiri’s tail rattles against your collarbone before you take another sip, eyes following his only for them to land on a vivacious redhead at the bar. The irritation bubbling in your veins dwindles into mild amusement. Your best friend is a hilariously predictable moron. 

 “She is either a suspect or you’re being a creep.” You tease, the cruel curve of your lips barely obscured by the glass pressed against them. The mockery in your eyes shining amber like the drink in your glass. Dick’s cheeks flush as the playful lilt in your voice lances through the fog in his mind. He looks at you, dopey and red-cheeked as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. You roll your eyes, nostrils flaring letting out a breath caught between a huff and a laugh. “Stalker.” You hiss, trying to smother the warmth in your voice with sheer, unadulterated pettiness. 

 Dick levels you a look, cutting and vicious if he wasn’t flushed. “Am not.” He whines halfheartedly, eyes flicking once again to the woman at the bar. Some part of you is sure you really ought to be mad at him. After all, you haven’t seen each other for almost half a year. This is thanks in part to work and in part to work getting royally fucked up. Thankfully, not because of Gotham’s resident furry and his new little bird boy. Really, you should be furious at being sidelined considering this outing was his idea but here you were smirking into your malt whiskey, tickled. 

 “Then stop staring.” You challenge, unfolding and relaxing into the moldy cushioning of the bar. Dick glares at you, the pout on his lips obscured by his hand as he rests his chin on his palm but you know it’s there. You’ve memorized the plains of his face and how they shaped themselves, a product of spending far too much time staring at the details.  Hey, if he was gonna third wheel you the least you could do was tease him about it. “Or do you want me to wingman for you~”

 “HELL NO”

 You can’t stop the cackle that spills from your lips. “Why not?!”

 “I’m not letting you cockblock me. AGAIN.”

 “That was one tiiime, Joystick.”

 “Once was enough!" 

 "’Fiiiine but to be fair,  you still ended up dating her, didn’t you?” You defended weakly, running your fingers through your hair, jostling the already wind whipped strands. Dick was red-faced. The liquor was definitely working through his system. The color in his cheeks was lively and cute, making him look boyish despite how much he’d grown. You had, in fact, cockblocked him due to an extreme bout of jealousy, childishness, and hormones. Back then you hadn’t yet learned the art of burying your feelings 6 feet under.

 “Fine, fine, fine. Just shoot your shot, Dickie bird.” This does not appease him. He, in fact, crosses his arms over his chest. You set your glass down and raise your brow. “If you fail, I’ll buy you a round.” You add placatingly. Dick’s eyes slide over your shoulder, the lump in his throat bobbing.“Make that two.” 

 Your eyes shine, cat-like the dim lighting of the lamp overhead. You smile at him all cocksure, placing your chin on your intertwined fingers.“Deal.”

 Dick gives you a withering look as he pushes off the table. You take a sip of your daiquiri as he moves through the crowd, gracefully slicing through the sea of bodies. No, maybe they were parting just for him. Dick does have that air about him. A pull that made it so painfully obvious that he was so much more. Dick also had this way of talking that made you unsure of whether you’re being flirted with or if it’s just the way he talks to people. Either way, he had this way of making you feel special and you had no doubt he would sweep this one off her feet.  

 The redhead at the bar tipped her head finally sensing his gaze on her and as per your expectation, she seemed to reciprocate the interest. Not that you can blame her. Dick was a 10 on his worst day. Now that you thought about it, you’ve never actually seen Dick flirt. You’ve seen him banter but flirt? You can’t seem to think of an instance of it. This’ll be fun. 

 You watch him closely and your brows climb higher than you thought they could. Something was off, something very un-Dick-like. There’s an unsteadiness in his step that makes your stomach sink. Dick wouldn’t. Even Dick wasn’t stupid enough to blow his shot just to get a few shots, would he?

 And then it happened.

 “Did it hurt when you hit your face?” Dick asks, winking stiffly. A ripple of pain lances through you followed by an unbearable wave of second-hand embarrassment. “Excuse me?!” Her face morphs into something terrifying before Dick’s brain can catch up. You watch in mute horror as Dick’s face slowly matches the sinking feeling in your gut as embarrassment suffused his entire body. 

 “Wait, shit. I- I meant- Shit. I didn’t mean to say you look like you banged your face. I mean, of course, you don’t-” You watch in fascination as Dick stumbles through apology after apology after apology. Until finally, he gives up. “Actually, I’ll just leave.” Dick shambles gracelessly back to your table while your brain tries to process what just happened. 

 You wheeze against the table, pounding your fist against the table. “Dickie, yanno you did have a shot before you opened your mouth, right?” Your hand is clamped over your mouth trying to stop the shrill cackle bubbling in your throat. 

 “Y/n...” 

 “Jeez, Dicktopus, was gin really worth getting blue balled?”

 “You better have your money,” he sneers, cutting you a scathing look as he slides into the booth. 

 “I-” The smug look on your face vanishes when you reach into your wallet. “If I apologize for you, will you cut me some slack?” you try, brandishing your nearly empty wallet. 

 “I’ll buy you a shot if she doesn’t tell you to fuck off.”

 “Hmm, if I get her number for you, will you get me two?”

 “Sure, why not?” Dick whines petulantly. His head sinks into his arms desperately trying very hard  to implode. You cough into your sleeve trying not to laugh and hope he doesn’t notice. A blush creeps up the tanned skin of his neck. He tries to hide it by placing his hand on his neck but the color’s already made its way to his ears. Feeling a little bad for him, you squeeze Dick’s shoulder once, then twice, then twice once more. You swing your legs dramatically out of the booth. You hear Dick groan and you chuckle. 

 You flick your eyes to him one last time before moving forward. You roll your shoulders, realigning your form into something more suave and less goofy. The rhythm of your feet goes from a clumsy shuffle to a confident saunter. The woman looks at you skeptically, her lashes fluttering mockingly. You move, easy and casual. With a playful grin, you apologize and make up some bullshit excuse about Dick being extremely shy. She eases. You continue on your little sales pitch as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  You draw a laugh out of her. You can hear her heart pick up. She smiles at you telling you that you and your shy friend are fine. You chuckle and promise to tell your long-suffering friend that, tilting your chin towards Dick who is still trying to melt into the table. She scribbles her number onto a napkin and hands it to you with a flirtatious wink. You smile lopsided, cute and sheepish, as you wave her goodbye.

 Dick stares at you with slack-jawed awe. This time you feel genuinely bashful but you shrug it away with a sharklike grin spreading across your face.

“Pay up, pretty bird,” you say slamming the number on the table, teeth gleaming in the low light of the room. The petty satisfaction oozing off of you is almost palpable. Dick looks up at you, his pretty mouth twisting.  “What are you? Seven?”

 “If by seven you mean lucky, then yeah,” you sneer, nudging your empty shot glass against Dick’s shoulder. “Pay up, Dickenson~” you sing. Dick’s face twists even more and he waves you off, pushing off the table.

 “Let’s just go,” Dick bites out, cheeks burning. You bite your lips trying to resist the urge to tease him more but it’s hard. Not when he’s all pouty and cute.  

 “I mean you did just wine and dine me,” you laugh musically. You promised yourself you would stop teasing him but you never said you would stop making jokes. There’s a complicated expression on Dick’s face before it shifts back to exasperation. 

 “You. Are. Awful.”

 You shake your head not even denying it as you follow him out of the old Dog and Duck into the fresh Bludhaven air. 

“How are you good at this?” Dick whines into one of your throw pillows. The poorly counterfeit superman one he had gotten you a few years ago from a trip to the Philippines. He's pouting at you like a kid. To be fair, you did laugh at him in the club (and the whole way back to your safehouse which was not a short walk).

 You chuckle, tapping a cool can of beer against his forehead.“Sadly some of us need to work at being charming, Dimples McGee.” He accepts the can, scowling at you. Your grin doesn’t waver which only serves to deepen his scowl. It was an irritating feedback loop. Well, irritating for Dick. You’re having the time of your life. You settle on the other side of the couch rolling your beer can in your hand. “ Plus, you’ve seen pops talk right? The man sweet talks like his life depends on it.” 

 “Right, I’ll remember to ask him for flirting advice next time he tries to kill me,” Dick says, rolling his eyes at you. You perk up at the awful idea before you snicker and press a hand to your lips in a barely held back smile. It’s Dick’s turn to perk up. His blue eyes shine with interest at your expression like he’s trying to capture it. You turn to him with a serious expression. “Please, please ask him that. I will pay you to record his reaction. Please. Please. Dickle, please,” you beg, moving on your knees to his side, your hands clasped in prayer.  Dick shifts sticking his tongue out at you childishly. 

 “Noooooo!”

 “Pleeeeeeaaaaaseee”

 “No!”

 With an ‘oof’, you plop yourself between Dick’s legs, your chest against his. You stare up at him with eyes mimicking the wide-eyed innocent look he uses on you when he asks for a favor. Dick gives you a sorry look asking you to please drop it. You don’t. You double down trying to look as cute as possible. 

 Dick looks down at you, glaring then grimacing then smiling. “Ok, fine,” he huffs stiffly, wrapping his arms around you. You snuggle up against him, smug in your victory.  Your nose brushes against Dick’s pulse which makes his breath hitch. He squirms under you but you just find yourself laughing. “You. Are. Evil. ”

 “I promise to make your Granny’s goulash,” you say in a halfhearted attempt to appease him. Dick’s face softens  “Now, that’s just bribery.”

 “You’re gonna be a cop here in Bludhaven. You gotta learn how to take bribes.”

 His brows crease as you shake your head. Dick huffs, planting his chin against the crown of your head before pressing his lips to your hair. You feel one of his arms pulling you closer, his hand threading through the tangle of your hair. You smile against his skin, breath tickling him which just makes him squirm. He’s breathless under your touch and you don’t even know it. You two sit basking in the close proximity and the soft intimacy you two shared. Your limbs tangle and twine around each other carelessly. 

 Out of context, you two could have been lovers. 

 You sigh, feeling a bit drowsy from the ‘tussle’. You blink, mind reaching for something. “Wait…. Brucie flirts like his life depends on it too! What’s your excuse?” you grin, jabbing a finger into his chest. Dick scowls at you, clearly flustered again. He stammers, babbling out answers. “Hey, I- I could probably do it...” Dick mutters, finally finding a semblance of coherence. 

  “After that performance?” You challenge, sitting up, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. A sharp laugh spills from your lips. It’s louder than you intended, your entire chest moving along with every exhalation of air. 

 Dick looks at you like a kicked puppy which has you roaring with laughter. “You don’t have to laugh that hard”

 “Admit it, Grayson, you are an actual bonafide dork”

 “I’ll bonafide you,” he growls and you’re bent into the couch cushions, clutching your stomach. Dick looks like your house plant like he’s about to disintegrate. You sit up again and cross your legs. Your lungs expand as you draw in another calming breath before you give him a softer, lopsided smile, placing a hand on his knee and shaking him gently. “Come on, practice on me I’m probably one of the few people you don’t have a stick up your ass around.” Dick, not getting up, puts his hands in his face looking positively mortified by the idea. You make a little affronted noise in the back of your throat and thanks to whatever god is up there that you don’t seem to know how much he doesn’t wanna fuck up flirting with you.   

 “I don’t know how to!” The cry is muffled but the mortification still bleeds through. The admission startles something out of you. “Holy shit, Nightwing can’t flirt his way out of a paper bag. Oh my god, this is great!” you cackle, falling into the cushions. 

 “I’m trying damn it!”

 “Ok. Ok. Ok.” You breathe. You’re still clutching your still aching stomach. You wish you recorded that confession.  “Ok. Phew. Ok, I need a minute,” you say folding over into the cushions again, another bubble of laughter rising in your throat. This is the best ab workout you’ve had in months. 

 “Take your time,” Dick deadpans, rolling his eyes, color rising in his tanned cheeks. 

 “Ooook, I think I’m good. First, we need to work on your wink.”

 “The hell is wrong with my wink?” A wry smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You make vague hand gestures, hoping somehow you could physically pluck the correct words from the air.  “Just try winking, Ric.” Dick raises his brow but gives in. He winks at you in his usual devilishly charming way. You shake your head. “Wink at me like you’re trying to get my number.”

He stiffens and gives you the most artificial wink you’ve seen outside of a bad 50s flick. You drag your hand over your face. “How come you can wink so naturally while fighting and look like you work at in car sales when you flirt”

 Dick tries again. He ends up closing both his eyes and scrunching his nose- looking like a disgruntled puppy. You squeal and Dick’s eyes fly open. Your mouth works to flatten itself but your mind is still picturing the expression. “What?” he growls. You wave him off. “Sorry. Sorry. Just- just try again. Please.” 

 Dick gives you another stiff wink and you’re surprised to find yourself cringing at your best friend for the first time in your life. You drag your hand over your face. “You look like you’re trying to ask me to prom.”

 “You’ve never even been to a prom!”

 “Who do you think scares off Joey’s dates? Pops?” you snort picking up your beer can and taking a sip.  “Did you miss the absentee father part?”

 You both silently agree to move on. 

 “How the flying fuck did you date both Babs and Kory with your atrocious flirting skills?”

 “I have good pick up lines.”

 “Uh, sure, buddy.”

 “It worked on both of them!”

 “Well, hit me.”

 “Call me Fred Flintstone,”  you wait patiently, “cause I’ll make your bedrock.” Another artificial wink. 

 You blink at him, mind still trying to catch up. “Dick you are the epitome of ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’,” you groan, palm flat against your forehead. 

 “I’m not cute! I’m handsome!” Dick protests, mouth twisting into a pout. A shrill squeal is dying in the back of your throat as you draw a breath. You pinch his cheeks, “you pouting just furthers my point.”

 “Are you just trying to destroy my confidence?” Dick whines, lightly shoving you away. 

 “Oh no, the girl back at the club did that. I am just dancing on your grave.”

 “Give me another wink.”

 Dick fails at winking, again. You cringe openly at him and he scowls at you halfheartedly, more defeated than angry. Dick’s used to being good at things, you supposed. You tap your finger against your chin, trying to unspool a thought and rethread it into words. “Ok, figured out one of your problems.”

“Aside from my terminal dorkiness?”

 “You’re too nervous-”

 “You would be too,” Dick cuts in. 

You snicker, teeth bared in a mocking grin. ”Did you miss the part where I got her number?” Dick refuses to answer. You sigh but you can’t keep the smile off your face. “Let’s start with body language because for a guy with so much muscle control you are shit at this.”

 “You’re just gonna keep being mean,” he moans. 

 “I’ll stop being mean when you sweep me off my feet,” you jab. 

 “Ok, fine, maestro. What do you need me to do?”

  “You’ve got to lean into me and smile coyly,” you say vaguely.  Dick leans in close, your noses touching, his lips ghosting over yours. You can feel his breath hot against your lips. It sends bolts of electricity careening through your nerves. Your brain takes its sweet time catching up, giving your body ample time to soak up the proximity of the almost kiss. You gasp then reign yourself in. “Dickle, that’s- that’s a teensy bit too close,” you laugh awkwardly, hands playfully shoving at his chest. 

 Dick shakes out of his haze. “You said to lean in!” he says leaning into your space again. “Yeah, I did but I never said lean in close enough to eat my face. I can smell the gin in your breath,” you snort airly, pushing at his chest again. 

 Dick sits back, embarrassment creeping into his features. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as if he’s thinking carefully about his next few words. “I’m just-” Dick puts his head in his hands. “Like you said, I’m too nervous.” 

 You raise a brow. The sound that comes out of you is too sharp and disbelieving to be a laugh. “Pfffft, it’s just me, you dork.”

 That’s the problem, Dick thinks. It’s you. The exasperation bleeds into his features. Dick fidgets, shifting and shaking in his seat like a wet chihuahua. Don’t you know how much he wants to get this right for you?. 

 “Stop twitching! You look like you’re having a seizure.”

 “I’m nervous!!” he says. “Don’t you ever get nervous about a person you like?”

 You side eye him. “I do,” you admit, rubbing your thumb over your tattoo out of habit. Dick’s eyes widen, then narrow. You see the word ‘who’ forming on his lips but his train of thought is cut off by the sound of Yasiri’s tail rattling against your skin as she emerges. Your poor danger noodle is likely frustrated with the lack of progress. You quietly thank her by scratching her chin.  “Whatever made this world just decided that you had to have at least one very obvious flaw,” you say, insincerely patting him on the back.

 “You're enjoying this.”

 “Way more than you think,” you say grinning at him. Dick simply grimaces at you. “You’re not helping me.”

 “Were you really expecting me to help?” You shrug. “Why would I do that?”

 “I’d help you!”

 You level him with a flat look. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d laugh just as hard as I did.” Dick opens his mouth then closes it. He opens it again. You raise your brow at him. “ I- ok yeah. No, I would laugh harder,” he says, giving you a cheeky, lopsided smile. Vindication and something warmer tug your features into a smile.

 “Just… relax and be yourself,” you mock sagely. Dick rests his head on yours. “ I hate you,” he groans, pressing his shoulder into yours. 

  “You’re just thinking about it too much,” you say, pressing back, “just do what’s natural. The more you over try the funnier it is.”

 “Goes back to my problem of being nervous,” he huffs into your hair. You boop his nose. “Goes back to my point about you overthinking things.”

 “I’m not!”

 “Fine.”

 “Fine?”

 “Fine,” you say, reaching back and presenting your danger noodle in your palm, "practice on Yazzy.”

 “You’re not serious?”

 You hold up the clearly unamused snake eye level with Dick. “Go on." Dick gives you a withering look. He exasperates, then looks deep into Yasiri’s black eyes. He opens his mouth and Yasiri flicks her tongue at him. The next few things happen in quick succession. Dick’s body relaxes. His face breaks into a smile that makes your heart flutter. He lets out a bubble of laughter that has you jumping and reaching for your own breath. "I can't!" he gasps. You both dissolve into laughter. 

 “Suit yourself - but prepare to have blue balls," you grin, punching his shoulder, "at least, they'll match your new suit!" you cackle. Dick flushes red.“I - I - you are legally the worst and most unhelpful human being in modern history!”

 Your cackle rises higher even as Dick shoves a pillow in your face. You push it away and wipe the tears away from your eyes. “Just practice on me, go on,” you say, reaching out, “once more." He frowns at you. "Please?”

 Dick closes his eyes. His movements become leisurely the way you've seen him when he's about to do a routine on the trapeze. “Do you have a map?” he says, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. The oxygen in your lungs evaporates. Heat spreads from the line of skin Dick’s finger grazed to the rest of your body. You swallow trying not to collapse under the weight of his gaze. You realize he's expecting an answer. "No, why?” you stammer out stupidly. 

  “Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” he says, eyes glittering in the dim lights of your apartment. Some part of your brain short circuits, fizzing out in sparks and fire, then the rest of your brain follows. The entire structure goes out in a puff of smoke. You're completely frozen. Dick watches you with a furrowed brow, bottom lip caught between your teeth. Apprehension rolls off of him in waves and you can feel your lungs work again. "Exactly! Exactly that!" You squeal in delight. Dick smiles relieved. "I knew you could do it, you magnificent dork. I could kiss you right now!" you say squishing his cheeks and pressing your forehead against his. Dick’s breath catches. There's a hopeful look in his eyes. "Would you?" 

 Something clogs your throat as you pull away. You're pretty sure it's your heart. You force the nervous laughter in your throat into something else. "Need practice with that too, Dickens?" 

 "Dunno," he hedges, eyes holding yours, "you tell me." His hand cups the side of your face. You ease into his touch like a marshmallow dissolving into hot cocoa. "Can I?" he whispers, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. He's being careful with you you realize. Your eyes flutter closed. You can feel your nerves disentangling. They cross and recross so that you're fully aware of your lips. The gap between the two of you is small but it feels so impossibly big. Anticipation, anxiety, and excitement all thicken the spaces between you. You want him. You want this. Is it so wrong? 

 "Yes."

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[yoondoze]

slip-ups | mark lee

“it’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?” + “can i kiss you?” + mark

pairing: mark lee x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1k

warnings: none

a/n:��these are so fun & cute to write uwu,, i even got one with these same sentences but with jaemin! we’ll see how that one turns out ^^ for now, enjoy!

A frustrating, loud knocking woke you from your slumber. You groaned as you stretched out over your sheets - the sky was awfully dark, and when you gained the sense to check the time, your alarm was blinking a threatening red message of... almost two am?

The pounding continued senselessly as you begrudgingly rose to your feet, the sound of the unrelenting banging soon making you think you might just implode. It was too early for this, whatever it might be, and you certainly weren’t conscious enough to deal with it.

“I’m coming!” you shouted, picking up the pace as you padded down the hall. “Give me a second, I’m coming!”

After that, whoever it was stopped battering their fists into your door and the tension immediately released itself from your body. That was one way to wake up.

Peering through the peephole in the door, your brows knitted together in confusion. The person standing on the other side was looking out of breath and fumbled with his hands as he waited. 

“Mark?” you pulled open the door, revealing the heavily distraught boy. “It’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?”

He wiped his palms on his jeans while he stumbled for words, nerves prickling as he looked at you blankly. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something, but could only let out a disappointed huff.

“Can I come in?”

Though puzzled, you stepped back and opened the door wider, motioning for him to come in. The look on his face - suggestive of someone who just witnessed a murder - was seriously starting to worry you now.  “What’s wrong?”

“Listen…” he started as his eyes flickered around your apartment, “I-I couldn’t stop thinking about earlier today and I can’t sleep because of it.” He turned back around to face you, the words spilling off his tongue without a second thought. “About how you said that sometimes the people that want you most are right in front of you after I said that I felt like nobody wanted me- and I, I just…”

He paused and swallowed, letting out a deep breath. Mark drew the corner of his bottom lip under his teeth as his eyes looked between yours frantically.

“...Were you talking about me and you?”

You pressed your lips together. You took your time to figure out your words, mulling over the consequences of you being honest with him, wondering whether the truth would shove a wedge like a splinter between the two of you.

So yes, maybe you had some more than platonic feelings toward your friend. And yes, maybe you had made a bigger mistake than you had thought when letting those feelings meld into your attempt at comfort.

“Um, well… yeah, I guess I was-”

“Do you like me?” His straightforwardness caught you off guard - not only was he not acting like himself, but it felt like with that question alone, he’d shoved you onto a stage and shone a spotlight directly in your eyes.

Hoping to delay the possibility of a heartbreaking negation, he continued blabbering. “Because I really like you, and I know you probably don’t feel that way but I need to know because I can’t get you out of my head and I really just want you to be mine so bad, like not just friends-”

“Mark,” you said quietly, interrupting his ramble. His form sank until he saw a small, cheeky smile growing on your face. “I like you... a lot.”

You watched as he sighed out in relief but then backtracks, taking a second to process it. “You mean that? You’re not just saying that because it’s really early and I’m practically losing my mind-”

“Mark!” He stopped again and shut his mouth. It was hard to keep down the laughs bubbling out of you. “I mean it. I have feelings for you.. I have for a while now.”

He sighed out in relief yet again in the same manner as before and the act itself pulls a grin from your face. In a way, it felt good to get it off your chest. Not like you expected your confession to come so unexpected and in such odd timing, but still. Trying to spend time with Mark day-to-day while acting like you weren’t in love with him wasn’t easy, and you had slipped up a bit earlier - truth be told, you couldn’t really get it out of your head, either. You were just glad it turned out okay.

Then, he ambled over to you and laid his hands gently on your shoulders. His fingers squeezed lightly and he searched your wide eyes before he blurted, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded fervently in response, meeting him halfway when he began to lean in with your arms snaking around his neck. His lips connected with yours delicately, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. A sparkler burned up in your chest at the feeling of him around you. Just as you thought you might drown in his addictive haze, he pulled away.

His eyes fluttered open, looking at you warmly, and there was something about it that made you want to draw back in, so you did.

This time, one of his hands slipped down to your waist and the other found its place at your jaw. He pressed a little harder, moved a little quicker, as if he was making up for lost time. You could tell he was eager for you with the way he was kissing, and when you drew back, he even followed after in a desperate chase.

You didn’t say anything as his eyes fluttered open to meet your own. Unable to help the giddiness bubbling in you, you had to purse your lips so you wouldn’t start grinning like an idiot.

He cleared his throat and averted his head in shyness. “So… I-I’ll call you later?” His hands became awkward in the way they rested on you, withdrawing from your body.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you nodded, starting toward the door. It seemed like the Mark you knew had returned, his flustered nature resurfacing right away. “Get some sleep.”

“Will do…” he said, stepping out into the hallway. He scratched the back of his neck and turned back around to face you once more. His eyes quickly dipped down to your lips and then he was swooping in for another short peck.

A giant grin was stamped across his face. “Okay, I’ll go now.” You nodded in agreement and began to slowly shut the door.

“Goodnight, Mark,” you said, waving your hand lightly as the entrance became smaller and smaller until the door closed into place.

Out of pure curiosity, you peeked through the door one more time. Joy was seeping out of his bones from the way he cheered to himself quietly. He fist pumped, mouthing a small, “Yes!”

And maybe - just maybe, you thought, you should slip up a little more often.

[lizardrosen]

Hamlet at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater

This was a really good production, that I’ve been looking forward to for six months, and it really lived up to the wait! I took two and a half pages of notes of things I remembered or loved, which I’ll try to condense, but regardless, some of this is ending up under a cut.

Characters

Maurice Jones was an incredible Hamlet, really broken up about his father, but so overcome with grief that he had to push that aside for rage at his mother’s infidelity because it was an easier emotion to handle. He was very physically aggressive to other characters, and this performance really illustrated that Hamlet isn’t indecisive because he can’t decide to do anything; he’s indecisive because he acts on each decision right away but doesn’t commit to any of them.

Horatio was a pillar of stability that everyone turned to for a sense of normalcy. Soft-spoken but with his trademark wry humor, he seemed to position himself as a quiet observer from the very beginning, almost like he’d come right from Hamlet’s directive at the end and had to see how things fell out. But he and Hamlet really didn’t seem to be dating, it’s more that Horatio is there for everyone.

Ophelia and Laertes had a really good sibling dynamic, and made fun of their father wonderfully! They physically deflated when he started giving advice, and then imitated his motions exactly when he got to “This above all...” because they’d heard it so often.

Ophelia was a lot of fun, and felt like someone growing out of girlhood into adulthood -- in her first scene she’s playing with a toy boat, and by the end she’s sharp and jaded, (almost the opposite of Hamlet, in that she’s incredibly angry at her circumstances, but that keeps being overwhelmed by grief)

Laertes was really good! In the first act he really played up the “puffed and reckless libertine” aspect, doing anything that was fun for him. But when he got back he was furious of course, but also more thoughtful and willing to listen to reasoned arguments (even if they were given by a gross snake like Claudius, UGH). A very neat way to handle his sense of honor!

Polonius was sincere and a real character trying to help, not a cardboard cutout who says things that don’t make sense so we can laugh at him. And I mean, other characters were making fun of him, but because he felt so real you had to feel bad for him. Sometimes he was almost self aware but then shrugged it off and kept talking

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern had almost an opposite relationship dynamic from how it is in the Stoppard play, which made me laugh, but they were both very good. But Guildenstern seemed shy and unsure, and tried to fit in with the court customs, while Rosencrantz took charge like “don’t worry, baby chick, I’ll take you under my wing”  and then strode forward in the wrong direction. Someone help them, they’re Trying Their Best.

Gertrude and Claudius were really handsy with each other, always sneaking off to kiss, and it’s like they wanted Hamlet to get pissed and vengeful. Claudius stepped very easily into his new position and just acted like it wasn’t a big deal, which possibly dazzled his courtiers into agreeing. I don’t think Gertrude knew he’d murdered Papa Hamlet at first, but became suspicious and watchful after the closet scene. By the time she drank the poisoned goblet she absolutely knew it would kill her

The Players were a queer punk Scandinavian acting troupe, but I love and value all of them, especially the petite tumblr who shyly handed Hamlet a rose just before the Murder of Gonzago started

The Player King came back as the second gravedigger, so he didn’t get to banter with Hamlet. But the comedic timing was perfect in that scene!

Stage and Set

The lighting and music both worked very well, subtly tying into each scene.

The ghost was a black and white video projected onto the back wall, with a lot of smoke in between, so it was even more unsettling and disorienting, and the ghosts voice moved around the house to come from different speakers so you never knew where he was going to be next.

The thrust stage could have been used more effectively, but I’ve seen that kind of stage used really badly and it wasn’t that.

Cool wall hangings with fancy patterning - they were just white with embroidery or something, but with different colored lights shining on them from the top they’d change colors all the way down, and that worked with each scene. So Claudius’s pomp and circumstance was usually orange, Ophelia’s scenes usually got blue, and I didn’t pick up on all the color choices but I felt them

When Polonius dies he pulls one of the curtains down on top of him, and when Claudius dies all the rest fall at once, and the lighting changes from loud and dramatic to something plainer and free of artifice, until it condenses to a white (and very slightly blue) light centered on Hamlet and Horatio

Plot Etc.

Started with Hamlet at his father’s grave, singing until he was too overcome with weeping, and then Claudius and Gertrude ran onstage giggling and kissing, and Hamlet glared at them until he stormed off the stage.

Scene two was a coronation gala and Hamlet, in a black hoodie shouldered between Claudius and Gertrude’s linked hands and headed straight for the snacks table

The Ophelia + Laertes + Polonius scene opens with Ophelia running onstage holding a long blue cloth that trailed behind her like a river, which divided the stage diagonally through the whole scene - a visual marker of how far characters actually are from each other, and where they come together

After the nunnery scene Claudius and Polonius just ignore Ophelia when she’s sobbing on the ground! She was just a tool for them to use and then they stopped paying attention, no wonder she “went mad”! Polonius says “How now, Ophelia” and then doesn’t wait for an answer, just immediately says “You need not tell us what Hamlet said” and is already turning back to Claudius. That said, I think he really does care about his daughter, but tends to reflect the worst of the people around him.

Act One ended at “Bring me some light!” which I was not at all prepared for, but it worked really well because the play’s answer was a sudden blackout and then a slow return to house lights. And then Claudius repeats the line at the top of Act Two and the tableau jumps into startled action

Hamlet was very rough with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and it was just awful (but in a good way). He forces the recorder into Guildenstern’s mouth and sort of pushes him down so he has to bend his knees. It was a clear power play and made everyone Very Uncomfortable. Horatio and Rosencrantz finally pull them apart and Ros helps Guil collect himself, while Horatio sort of tries to comfort Hamlet while also clearly thinking that he’s gone Too Far.

Later when he calls Rosencrantz a sponge he squeezes him around the midsection from behind to hold him still before he suckerpunches him in the gut and it just looks very painful and bad. Besides the fact that he just killed a man, I think that’s what gets Rosencrantz running the fuck away.

The way Hamlet drags Gertrude around in the closet scene mirrors the way he drags Ophelia in the nunnery scene, owwww

The interview with the director in the playbill says that Polonius’s death is the moment the play becomes a tragedy, and you can feel everything draw in and get darker at that point, so good job from all the designers to make that happen!

Buuuut, she also said that “When the men in her life leave her, she implodes in on herself. There’s no other way for that story to end, not for someone as fragile as Ophelia, which I DON’T like. It really showed in how she was played, but the actress did a really good job in that Way Ophelia Is Usually Played. I just want to see a different kind of Ophelia once in a while!

They kept the scene where Hamlet talks with the Norwegian Captain about the territory in Poland!

When Hamlet is putting on an antic disposition he wears his mother’s dressing gown, and in Ophelia’s scenes she wears the shirt her dead father was stabbed in (who gave it to her tho?)

I found it VERY interesting who got which flowers, because it wasn’t at all what I usually see! Gertrude got rosemary, fennel and columbine; Laertes got pansies; Claudius got rue; and Horatio got a daisy.

When Ophelia breaks down about the withered violets she and Laertes end up full on SOBBING together for their father, which was heartrending and probably very good for both of them

Claudius and Laertes make their sinister plans in a sauna in the same trapdoor hole where Ophelia’s grave is in the next scene, and they’re still there when they hear of her death

The priest refused to sprinkle the holy water over the grave at the end of the service, and he just threw the container on the ground and strode away, so the gravediggers did that part instead, which was such a good moment!

Horatio was appropriately horrified at Hamlet switching the letters, and Hamlet was cavalier about it, but he showed enough emotional maturity in that scene overall that you could tell he wasn’t entirely unaffected either.

Definitely not my favorite Osric - for one thing, they left out the Hat bit. I usually read him as a very young man trying really hard to fit into the politicking of Elsinore and agreeing with Hamlet because he feels he has to, and to have him older and well established makes it harder for Hamlet and Horatio to mock, and you feel less bad for him in general. So I guess in that sense it's good that they left out the Hat scene.

When Hamlet is distracted by Gertrude collapsing, Laertes gets in a nasty little cut on the back of the leg, just a frustrated flick of his sword, and then Hamlet retaliates with the same kind of thing — surprising but effective!

Laertes got his full and proper death! YAY! It is so, so, important to me that his life doesn’t end on “The king, the king’s to blame” because he has never been about revenge as much as reparation. They have to forgive each other or the play doesn’t work right!

Horatio wasn’t so much mourning a boyfriend as he was mourning A Life because all lives are precious to him, and he was always there for everyone.

There was gorgeous almost choral music as he holds Hamlet, and a white (blue-ish) light centers on the two of them as Hamlet shakes from the poison.

And yet, even though the beats were clearly spelling out that they were setting up the final image of the play I was shocked that it ended with “flights of angels” and not the clamor of Fortinbras and court intrigue starting up all over again. I think the reason I was so surprised by what is actually a pretty typical ending point is that they did include the bit with the Norwegian captain, and the gravedigger talking about the day Papa Hamlet defeated Papa Fortinbras, so it seemed obvious to me that there would be a continuation of that.

Overall, I really loved this production, even if there were some things I would have done differently!

[undercoverwatermoon]

“Surprise” (Jalton/Future Fic)

This started as a completely different story, but here's where it ended up. This occurs in the same verse as "Stars", so they're a series now.

Series on AO3 here: Future Moments I'll continue adding related one-shots to this series as I am inspired to write them. All will be future Jalton.

Definitely a wedding one (as promised to #TheFab5) will be added at some point, and of course Jalton babies and Daddy!Adam.

This story happens an appropriate amount of time prior to "Stars”

Endless thank you's to the #TheFab5 who are always willing to talk me off the ledge when I get lost in my feelings (see evidence below), and to @stupid-jeans (who IS one of #TheFab5 lol) for the always wonderful beta!

Enjoy everyone!

It’s only been five days since they touched down on American soil, and an entire three days since she last saw Adam. Saying goodbye at the airport had been a brand new experience, barely hours since they’d given in to the long-standing tension between them, finally deciding their chance at happiness was worth the risk.

Jaz. We are practically together, in every sense of the word, except...physically

Adam had been so convinced. So sure that it was their time. It gives her goosebumps remembering the look in his eyes as he’d patiently argued his point. Preach’s words from a few deployments ago, about not ignoring connections, echo in her mind, and she makes a mental note to ask Adam how many wisdom interventions Preach had subjected him to in the recent past. Comparing stories might be fun.  

Walking aimlessly along the supermarket aisles, looking at everything and deciding on nothing, Jaz finds herself daydreaming. It’s strange to her, how the most mundane things remind her of him. That healthy, cardboard-like cereal he likes is on aisle nine, and she stops there for what seems like hours, smiling like a fool until she finally throws it in the shopping cart. Then come the bagels -Adam likes carbs- the blueberry ones for some reason, so she grabs those too, chastising herself for feeling like a giddy teenager, buying her boyfriend’s favorite things.  

A couple dozen more items end up in the cart, but her mind is distracted, a thousand miles away where Adam is, visiting his sister’s family for a few days. She knows he’ll be back, logically, so it feels ridiculous to her how much she misses his scent, his voice, his smile....how much a cereal box in her hand makes her feel like he’s closer somehow.

Right now, in the middle of an empty supermarket, at two o’clock in the afternoon, this tough, badass, special operations sniper wants nothing more than to have her boyfriend home. How is she supposed to wait two more days?

“Sorry,” she mumbles to the polite old man she almost runs over moving towards the checkout line, and minutes later she’s on the road with a hodgepodge of groceries in the trunk.

The minute she walks through the garage door she knows he’s home.

“Adam?” Calling his name, she rounds the corner from the kitchen and finds him standing there, smiling at her.

“Surprise.”

Adam catches her easily when she rushes toward him and jumps, long smooth legs wrapping around his waist. Laughing as she peppers kisses all over his face, he turns and leans their entwined bodies against the nearest wall, savoring the feel of her pressed against him, in all the right places. God, he missed her so much, and he will tell her that and lots more, as soon as his brain can manage a coherent thought.

They make out like teenagers for a few minutes, soft noises, sighs and moans mixing together, amplifying the pleasure slowly building as their hands roam.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, and she smiles against his mouth. “I might leave more often though, if this is the reception I get.”

“Who says you’re ever leaving again?” Adam chuckles at that. Jaz looks him in the eye, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. “I’m serious. Not sharing you with the world. They can get their own Adam.”

The attempt at levity falls a bit flat. It’s not the words themselves, but what lurks beneath them that has Adam immediately shifting from amusement to mild concern.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

That soft, intimate tone laces his voice, and Jaz is mildly afraid of the power it holds over her now. Closing her eyes with a shake of her head, she tries to refocus on the way his hard body is still pressing her against the wall. Rolling her hips against him, she moves to kiss him, but Adam is on alert now, and he’s not going to let this go. He shifts his his hips back slightly, and her legs drop to the floor. So, they’re doing this. Now.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.” At his skeptical look she sighs. “It’s just…” Trailing off, she looks down for a second before ducking under his arm and moving towards the kitchen. Adam follows her, a few steps behind, giving her the space her body language is begging for.

Finding the right words proves harder than expected. The wave of frustration begins to rise within her, and having no clue where it even comes from makes it so much worse. The past three days replay in her mind. What is she suppose to say here? That she missed him? That she spent every waking minute daydreaming about his arms around her? That being away from him for three measly days almost drove her mad? That now that they’re here, officially together, she’s afraid she won’t ever survive without him? Isn’t it too soon for all of that?

They’ve grown as close as two people can be without actually being together these past five years, but in all that time, they’ve never done this. Talking openly about their feelings, giving voice to their fears, hopes, and expectations. Five days ago, she thought they were simply taking the next logical step. Giving in to the overwhelming need to explore their relationship - and each other- with nothing holding them back. Right now though, she wonders if they’re right back at square one.

“Talk to me.”

Jaz can’t help but turn towards him at that. She wants to tell him everything, so badly, if only to erase the worry etched on his face. But she’s never done this before….intimacy, opening up. Never cared enough to stick around and do this instead of run.

Even so, she knows none of her past experiences could ever compare to now. Because this is Adam, who is everything she never dreamed she’d find in a man. So, regardless of the past, she will do her best to muddle through this, for him. And it will be messy and uncomfortable, but there’s no other option in her mind. If things between them fail, it won’t be because she didn’t try. Those clear blue eyes she loves are growing more troubled now, and hating that her silence is the cause, she takes a deep breath and jumps in feet first.

“I think it’s just...everything.” She begins with a helpless shrug. “In the last five days, we came back from Turkey, debriefed at the DIA, talked about us- you and me, as a couple- then spent the best night ever together, like... I didn’t know that was even possible...and then you left and--”

Adam frowns at that. “We agreed. You said you were fi--”

“I know what I said, okay?”

The outburst takes them both by surprise, but Adam instantly takes a step closer, cupping her face in his hands before she can retreat. So much is swirling around them, a cloud of questions and future decisions and sensitive conversations about the past- which Xander would say they absolutely need to have. Adam knows they’ll need time to wade through it, and he wonders how much of what’s still to come is driving the frustration pouring out now. Still, amongst all the heavy thoughts floating in his mind, one stands out, and it surprises him that it’s not serious at all.

“The best night ever?” Adam asks, with raised eyebrows and lips curved in a teasing smile.

Jaz huffs out a surprised laugh. “Seriously? That’s what you got from all that?” she asks, and attempts unsuccessfully to squeeze out of his grasp.

Adam sobers, readjusts his strong but tender hold around her neck, thumbs stroking her cheeks. Opening his legs wide, he lowers so they’re at eye level now.

“Jaz, baby. Listen to me.” The pet name draws an almost imperceptible whimper from her, and she brings her hands up, wraps them around his wrists. “I know it’s a lot to take in...us. But I promise you, we’ll figure all this out. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”  

The words sink in, and the raw, fearless emotion in his gaze catches her off guard. It’s too much, and she knows it’s a bit spineless to want to hide from it now, but she’ll implode if she doesn’t clear her head.

Reaching with her right hand, she runs her fingers over his beard, offering a smile that doesn’t entirely reach her eyes. He leans into her touch, wanting to draw her out, but she turns her body away from him toward the counter instead, one hand closing around the nearest grocery bag as the other drops away from his face.

Once again, Adam lets her go, watching as random food items emerge from the striped reusable totes.

“Well….that’s good to know,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant. “That you’re staying, I mean.” With her back to him, she holds up the cereal box for him to see. “Because, I’ve already bought this awful bird food you like. And those blueberry bagels, which are carb-loaded monstrosities really, and it’d be so rude of you to--”

Large, strong hands on her waist halt her nervous rambling, and when he folds his warm, solid body around her, the tension just oozes out of her with a long, deep exhale. Turning in his arms, she buries her face in his chest and just breathes him in.

Adam stands there, arms wrapped tightly around Jaz, and his mind flashes to the few seconds before, as he’d watched her stiff and shaking lightly, emptying out grocery bags. Her words about cereal and bagels flood his ears now- and the underlying fear in them, the possibility that he may not stick around- hits him like a sucker punch to the gut.

He’d gotten on that plane, because his nieces were waiting and Jaz had been adamant she’d meet them another time. Thinking it was her way of carving out “me” time for herself, he’d acquiesced. But as he’d stood hugging her goodbye outside the TSA line, nose buried in her apple-scented hair, he’d wanted nothing more than to haul her with him through security and never let her go.

With stark clarity, he can now feel this abyss between them, this notion of impermanence and ambiguity hovering around their relationship status, their future. He’d thought they’d have time for all that. His words as he’d explained his reasoning five days ago float through his mind...Jaz. We’re practically together, in every sense of the word…

Now though, he can see that statement wasn’t entirely true. By holding back those three words that mattered the most, he unknowingly allowed doubt to seep in through the cracks. Adam knows that nothing but brutal honesty will do now. It’s the one thing that has always worked to stop her from spiraling, so he decides that’s the way this will go. There is no room for more misunderstandings now. They’re not starting this journey on uneven emotional ground.

Jaz’s muffled voice interrupts his epiphany, and he rubs his cheek against her hair as he feels her mouth moving against his chest.  

“I just missed you. It’s stupid. You were only gone three days, and I know we’ve only been--”

“I love you, Jaz.” The way she freezes against him tugs at his heart. After a second, she inches back, staring at her finger as it toys with a button on his checkered dress shirt. He watches as she takes a deep breath before her brown eyes drift up to his, shining with unshed tears.

“You do?” Uncertainty and hope mingle in her voice.  

“Of course I--” Adam swallows, eyes closing against the flood of remorse.

“I’m such an idiot. I convinced you that we could do this, that the time was right for us... and then I….” Shaking his head, he brings his forehead down against hers with a regretful sigh. “I’m sorry. I love you, okay? I have loved you, for years. I’ll say it as many times as you want. Just, please, don’t cry.”

Unable to find her voice after that, she swallows and moves her head up and down in a nod. Adam opens his eyes in time to see her radiant smile, and can’t help kissing the now pinkish tip of her nose. When she blinks, and the tears finally fall, he wipes them away with his thumbs. He’s desperate now to make her understand, and the words just tumble out.

“I was waiting to tell you, when we had more time. I’ve been...planning it for a while.” That self-deprecating Adam smile, the one he reserves just for her, makes her chuckle through the tears. “I even asked my sister for advice. I was gonna take you out. Our official first date. That’s why I came back early, to surprise you and...God, it doesn’t even matter--”

“Adam.” Jaz’s voice is strong now, sure and steady, and he lets out the proverbial breath he’s been holding. Slowly, she fans her hands on his chest, tracing lazy patterns with her fingers and following them with her eyes.

“You know, our first night together?” She looks up through her lashes now. “It really was the best night ever.”

Adam grins, fast and bright. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah.”

[kiddaeng]

050417.

daehyun spends his birthday in shame.

not like, white cone over his head shame but like, hitting himself in the face kind of shame. the should’ve known better kind of shame.

it’s not because last night had been spent trying to drink away the memory of the day. it’s not because last night was such a blur he was sure the headache he woke up with would kill him. it’s not that kind of head in the toilet kind of shame - though it could be. sure he had fun last night, partied and drank until they were stumbling down the street and he had to wake up in someone else’s room until he made it to his own bed. he doesn’t consider getting lost in alcohol and parties shame, he calls it revival. he needs the numbing and he needed it for this day. he knew that.

the day starts like any other. his phone pinging enough times to finally wake him up. body heavy with the thought of what day it is. usually daehyun knows not to answer it but this particular day his body shakes him up, message after message clearing into his dream. and it had been such a good one. and those lips had been so so---- anyway. he’s up and reaching desperately for his phone, he has half a mind to tell jaebin to destroy his phone with a rock. dream-muddled and sifting through conscious and unconscious he picks up his phone. he’s got several messages, way too many to adjust to but they all read the same thing. happy birthdays, invitations to parties, questions about parties, family well-wishes and stranger well-wishes. he almost wishes he’d turned his notifications off for the day. he kind of wishes this day didn’t come every year.

(kkt) oppa happy birthday! you left early last night I couldn’t give you your present! stop by today okay? (kkt) hey man you throwing a part or what? (kkt) getting older everyday! happy birthday! (kkt) what’s the move for tonight birthday boy? (kkt) had too much fun last night? get ready for tonight! (kkt) can I stop by? I wanna give you your present! (kkt) you didn’t even tell me it was your birthday!!!!  (kkt) hey dae I’ve got some people lined up for tonight what’s the place?

he scrolls and scrolls until he contemplates falling back in bed and letting it all breeze by. the memory, the day, the messages. but his fingers stop still at a message, recent enough and important enough to have him slipping out his bed. surprised jaebin hasn’t woken up through the fuss he makes his way through the dorm.

there’s something about this kind of settlement that breaks him down a little. makes him feel weak in all the wrong places. all that daehyun is, all confidence and blinding smiles, all barriers and steel, he can never quite understand how it implodes so easily around them. them being his parents. 

he’s quick to make his way out the dorm, clad in a suit and hair slicked back. he tries to tell himself he’s not walking to a funeral, but there’s always a quiet death that takes place inside him when they meet. he gives the proper greetings to those who ask them of him, friends, students, upperclassmen and underclassmen alike. he even gets a kiss on his cheek before he walks up to the car. black and sleek and always ready for him. he fastens his tie, breathes his last breath before slipping in the backseat.

it never quite starts the same, but it always ends the same.

same empty questions.

“how’s class?” “how are your grades?” “who was that girl?” “what family is she from?” “did you change your major?”

that’s where it breaks.

there’s never a happy birthday in between it. the meeting is supposed to say it. it’s an acknowledgement of existence and that’s all. it’s his parents being petty in his opinion. they never really talk about things in depth. surface level concerns unless it’s one of their concerns. not, how’s the literary club you’ve started. not, I heard your team made it to the semi-finals.none of that, they never want to get to the base of daheyun like it doesn’t exist. as far as they’re concerned it doesn’t. as far as they’re concerned he’ll snap out of it.

that’s how the day’s spent. breaking down and injecting. piecing and piecing for satisfaction even if the pieces don’t fit, even if half the pieces are missing. there are parts of him they covet and parts of him they don’t. that’s fine. he takes it all, he’s still steel but he’s lost all mouth. he’s still all rigid but he’s somehow lost all bone, backbone and all. it’s not like he doesn’t know why. it’s not like daehyun has no idea why he sits through their pick apart for hours on edge. he knows. they know. 

the day is spent, public appearances, mini galas and minuscule meetings. he wonders if it’ll ever get easier, when he’s got his dad’s hand on his shoulder and twelve faces that know nothing about him but number atop his head. a target or a benefit. he’s an asset or a liability. he’s always hated how this industry reduced him. dissolved him to the most basic of things. greed. greed personified. 

he stands through it all, charms through it all and breathes the best he can. he can either endure or he can succumb to the buzz in his head. one or the other. so he engages, he controls and he acts the part. he doesn’t make them proud but they’re satisfied, they’ve got strings in the right places and daehyun’s moving fully functional.

he succumbs and he breaks down just so he can crawl to heaven’s door.

and he’s there near the end of the day, after dragging his dignity through the mud, watching his armor fall off with each conversation. he’s on his knees by the bed, holding her hands in his own and smiling. 

‘happy birthday oppa.’ heejung smiles. she even tries to squeeze back and he appreciates that. it’s small but it’s so much. it builds it all, pieces him back and he breathes free for the first time in hours. he takes her in, buried in pillows and swallowing pain. he takes her in and remembers strength isn’t always found inside as much as he tries to pretend it is. so he presses a kiss to her hand, two to her cheeks and one to her forehead. until he gets a laugh and he’s full again. pieced, glued, sealed. “thanks kiddo...”

he leaves when he can no longer charm the nurse to let him stay. he leaves when he’s sure she’s going to hold onto that smile of hers until next time. he leaves walking past the same car that trapped him for a day. he punches in a few messages, dials a few friends, tells jaebin where he’s been and he’s got a ride to campus and a blunt in his hand. he scrolls through the last few messages, the day not yet drawing to a close.

(kkt: hell) hey loser. happy birthday. don’t get yourself killed. [ yeah okay. ]

(kkt: r.o.d) hey you. dropped something off at your dorm. you’re welcome. [ thanks. I owe you. let’s meet up soon yeah? ]

(kkt: don’t answer) hey oppa! today’s your birthday! I hope you spent it well. you know it’s cruel to leave a girl wondering how you’re doing? anyway, I know your birthdays are usually stressful so I want to say I hope this one at least ends well. don’t let them stress you out and make sure you smile because it determines how the days go up until our next one. you might not respond and that’s okay but have a good birthday okay? (kkt: don’t answer) I miss you. [ message read ]

his birthday starts with revival, sits in shame and ends in revival again. 

a happy birthday indeed.