#i am once again apologizing for flooding the tag with a gargantuan ask

[vesperpharsalius]

Hello how are you?

I just wanted to know if you have reacted (and how, eventually) to the information given by pierce brown in the latest interview he did, that cassius would have been a great father and he would have had a daughter named pandora.

because i’m about to kms over that information. literally he’s a girl dad confirmed and THE CHILD HAS A FUCKING IDENTITY. AND YET HES DEAD

what was the reason. literally what. was. the. reason.

Hello, thinly disguised mutual polite anon!

Sorry it took me so long to get back to this, but I’m good! I spent most of the past week on a drunken binge that, for once, was socially acceptable (Mardi Gras in NOLA, babyyy) and I’m in a unusually decent mood. I barely even feel like a hater today—which is ironic, considering the content of this ask.

So, I didn’t watch that interview and don’t follow Pierce Brown... socially? I guess you would say. I’m not typically interested in content like this. Most of his AMAs and interviews and whatnot aren’t germane to my very specialized interest in his world and, on the rare occasions they are, he’s usually too flippant and desultory for my tastes. Because he often overgeneralizes and oversimplifies and gives shallow interpretations of aspects of the canon that I’m personally committed to giving depth, which rubs me the wrong way.

I don’t mean to be critical, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t really give a single fuck about the Bellona family, outside of Cassius, and even Cassius is rarely appreciated independently—that is, in his own right, as an individual, rather than as an extension of another character or half of a relationship with a more important character or pivotal in the arc of another character or… etc. 

And this comment about Pandora is not an exception. Because it’s not just an oversimplification or perhaps even outright mischaracterization of Cassius (more on that later) but also a dig at another character—it’s primarily, in fact, a dig at another character and only secondarily trying to saying something about Cassius, imo.

I learned about this interview from someone who shared highlights in the RR fanfiction Discord that I’m part of, including this bit about Pandora—and I don’t know the extent to which this reflects the actual interview and it’s not really relevant to your ask, so I won’t waste too much breath—but the point was summarized as ‘Cassius would’ve been a better father than Darrow’ which. No. Absolutely not. Not having that, Pierce.

For the people in the back: Darrow is an excellent father in an impossible situation. He is completely devoted to his child. He was compelled to leave him to fight genocidal fascists hellbent on their destruction and liberate millions of people from bondage. He dreams of nothing but returning to him and has been incessantly tormented, by himself and others for three entire books, about his inability to do so.

Not only that, but he has literally never dreamt of anything else; from the beginning, Darrow has never wanted anything but to be a husband and a father. Pax is his proudest achievement and the greatest love of his life. He’s, frankly, obsessed with that boy, to the point that I roll my eyes whenever he mentions him because I know it’s gonna be saccharine.

This libel and slander of Darrow’s fatherhood must end, y’all.

To be clear, I’m not saying this because I think there’s something abjectly wrong with characters who are bad parents or that someone’s skill at/aptitude for parenthood should be indicative of their overall worth. In other words, if Darrow was a bad father, I wouldn’t consider that damning and I wouldn’t be here insisting otherwise. I’d actually enjoy it more, tbh; failparenting is scrumptious to me. I’m saying that he’s canonically not.

Now, I’ve never been someone that takes an author’s word as gospel truth. Nor do I think authors ‘own’ what they create, or deserve to dictate how things are interpreted if they choose to leave something ambiguous, or reserve the right to retcon their own work. That’s a consequence of my being involved in several fandoms where creators have deliberately fucked with their canon, either because they don’t like the way it was interpreted or because they regret some of the choices they made or… etc.

To be clear, I don’t think PB is overall prone to this and I don’t think this example is particularly egregious; he’s said much worse and I’m definitely taking this more seriously than I should. But I’m… sensitive, lol. When it comes to people lambasting Darrow. And I hate to see him subjected to the same mudslinging he’s forced to endure in the books by the fandom.

Because it’s easy to excuse the ignorance of other characters—their perspective is necessarily limited and informed by the biases of their world—but not ours, not ours. Because we are literally privy to Darrow’s thoughts. We should recognize that he’s being unfairly scalped—that he’s unfairly scalping himself, at times. I hate that people take the blatantly unreliable and biased narrative at such face–value.

And, more relevant to your ask, I’m also sensitive about the rampant mischaracterization of Cassius in this fandom, because he is soooo woobified and romanticized and sanitized—on here, especially. Every time I see someone giggling about him being a himbo, I wanna hurl myself into the sun. I resent that—Lord on high, do I resent that—as one of the few people that stanned him at his lowest and loves him because of how horrible he is and has been and can be, not in spite of it or in outright denial of it.

He’s such a beautiful princess—with a disorder! Many, in fact. This is what makes him compelling; it’s his seasoning, without which he would otherwise be bland as fuck. And if you can’t appreciate him at his worst, you simply don’t deserve him at his best. You don’t deserve him, at all, in fact; I’m putting him up on the shelf until y’all get some better reading comprehension skills.

PB is, knowingly or unknowingly, contributing to both of these issues. It’s irritating. Both Cassius and Darrow deserve better than this. And what really bothers me is that the canon encourages the opposite conclusion.

But! Because of this seemingly harmless interview, people are going to flaunt this as canon. When it’s not! And they’re going to use this to undermine the actual canon.

This is not the first time PB has done this, btw. Cough, cough, ReaperStang fucking before GS, my beloathed.

😩

That said, yeeting Darrow from the equation, this is an… interesting take. Because—and I say this with all the love in the world and then some, as y’all well know; I sigh dreamily about him morning, noon, and night—but Cassius has been a very shitty parent thus far.

I don’t mean hypothetically. Cassius already ‘raised’ a child, by his own admission. Yes, he considered Lysander his little brother, but he’s the closest thing to a parent that Lysander ever had and it’s not uncommon, really, for relationships between siblings with such an age difference and unequal power dynamic to become more like parent–child ones.

In any case, Cassius was horrible to Lysander. Canonically. From LB, p. 624: 

“I know that… inconsistency on my part made you feel you were not enough. I know it bred contempt in you for me. I was selfish, then cowardly, then cruel.” He meets my eyes. “I’m sorry for it, Lys. I am. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the teacher you deserved. That I poisoned you with neglect. Suffocated you with judgment. I know when you looked at me you just wanted me to be happy. But I couldn’t be happy. I’ve… always had trouble with that. Without distractions… well. If I could do it all again, I wouldn’t try to shape you. I’d try to let you shape me into what you needed. I think we’d both have been better off for it.”

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not scalping him, because Lysander was genuinely a nightmare child with such a severe case of C–PTSD that he was probably irredeemable and certainly provocative. He brought out the worst in Cassius. And I’m not convinced anyone else could’ve ‘fixed’ him or ‘done better.’ I do not blame Cassius, at all, for what Lysander became or the terrible choices he—a grown–ass man who, by his own admission, betrayed everything Cassius stood for—has made.

And, no—I don’t care if PB does. When an author’s word conflicts with the canon, the canon has to win; this is blatant retconning that we—as fans of the work, not worshippers of the creator—shouldn’t tolerate. I’m also not above disregarding parts of the canon if it contradicts itself, tbh, but that’s not necessary here.

The fact remains that Cassius sucked as a brother, a mentor, and a parent. Objectively. He’s a faildad. A devoted and well–intentioned faildad, but a faildad, all the same.

And why shouldn’t he be? Both of his parents also sucked. Tiberius was emotionally distant and suffocated him with expectation; most of the shortcomings Cassius confesses above are probably inherited from him. Julia was… Julia. Yikes! And, overall, I think Cassius resembles her more than him. Classic case of ‘I am my father's son,’ proceeds to resemble mother in every possible way.

Regardless, he has intergenerational issues, for sure, and PTSD and probably a personality disorder and maybe even intermittent psychosis (unfortunately, I have watched IWTV and cannot stop thinking about Hallucination!Julian haunting Cassius’ every step, dreamStat style) and… God knows what else. And he’s never gotten a single ounce of therapy; he’s totally rawdogging life. No—tender forehead kisses from Darrow do not count.

And if you’re going to say, ‘Oh, he changed, he’s different now; just look at the end of that quote!’ Yeah, I wish I could. And I do believe that he’s grown since his Cassander era. But I’ll remind you—of the Ulysses fight. And everything that implies and outright states about him. PB went out of his way—and, in fact, does so in this very interview—to demonstrate that Cassius is still a shitty person to vulnerable people in his care.

And he could’ve left it ambiguous, but noooo: Lyria did tell Cassius about Ulysses and Cassius did intentionally use him and did deliberately betray Lyria’s trust and did take advantage of her vulnerability and did weaponize her trauma and did endanger her life. This is a horrible fucking thing to do to anyone in any context, but I’m honestly speechless at how the fandom collectively ignores this.

People always focus on Sevro and how cruel Cassius is being to him when, personally? I couldn’t care less about that. They’ve been spiteful to each other since Day fucking One and I think that Sevro, generally, is way too coddled by the fandom; he deserved this confrontation and more. No, it’s the betrayal of Lyria that makes this repulsive—to me, at least. It may be the worst thing Cassius ever done and being tipsy is not an excuse.

But I’m digressing.

Issues aside, the fact remains that he’s never once expressed an interest in having a child. Ever. The closest he ever comes is saying he misses being an uncle, which is. Not the same thing! Not half as much responsibility and stress. Before this, I would’ve sworn he was a ‘No, thanks—just niblings for me’ guy, which is one of the things I like most about him, in fact; him 🤝 me.

And nothing about his character suggests he would enjoy or be well suited to fatherhood, actually. I can go into deeper detail about this, if there’s an interest, but… since I’ve already rambled, suffice to say he’s painfully Achilles–coded; perhaps not intentionally and not exclusively so, but it’s there. 

Honestly, it reeks of heteronormativity that Cassius would have a child, at all. Because having a family of his own has never been on his list. He could’ve very easily started one and was doubtless encouraged to do so; he was the most eligible bachelor in the Society for years and, post–GS, the survival of his bloodline rested solely on him. And he resented the burden of Lysander as his obligatory child.

Fact of the matter is: Cassius is not Darrow. He doesn’t want domestic bliss. He deliberately chose to pursue people, romantically, that didn’t reciprocate his attraction or affection, something I go into deeper detail about here. He’s a hedonistic and vainglorious daredevil with a deathwish that lives for ultraviolence and altruism. And that’s okay! It’s sexy, in fact.

And I thought that we’d overcome amatonormativity here? PB just spent an entire book shoving ‘Cassius never needed a lover, only a brother’ down our throats and talks in that very same interview about Cassius having an unhealthy understanding of/expectation for romantic love (how it would ‘fix’ him) that PB didn’t wish to validate and that’s why wrote Cassaurae unreciprocated, which was the prompt of the overlong analysis I just linked above.

Only to say, ‘Hey, if Cassius had lived, he would’ve had a (presumably) biological daughter and she totally would’ve fixed him!’ 

(He didn’t say that literally, of course, but that is the implication.)

🤨

Is Darrow pregnant? Should we congratulate him? With all that eye–fucking, he should be; RRomegaverse, when? Because it’s not like little Pandora is gonna pop out of a hole in the ground. There’s an unspoken woman involved here—and I thought we were all in agreement about that being a bad idea. And let’s not forget that becoming a parent is never a panacea; if anything, it makes your unaddressed issues worse.

And, look—lots of people have mentioned that Cassius could ‘shape up’ to become a good father and… honestly, I don’t disagree. I think Cassius could be great at anything he set his mind to; he has the capacity for that. I just think he’d be… miserable.

And not because of the child itself—he likes kids and he’s congenial to almost everyone—but because of the duty involved; that stifling demand for patience and selflessness and temperance and equanimity and consistency that is so contrary to his nature. It’s grueling work for him to be responsible for anyone beyond himself—and even that is difficult, more often than not. 

Imo, Cassius’ best life is ‘your dashing and irreverent uncle that shows up drunk to your party, fresh from the club, wearing a full bottle of cologne with his tits out, and gives you the present your parents wouldn’t buy because they hate it; he comes late, flirts with your mother, breaks something important, snorts a line of coke off his nail, and leaves early to go spelunking with someone he met fifteen minutes ago.’ 

He doesn’t need to… grow up? And settle down. Because this isn’t something that could be changed by therapy—this is just who he is, trauma or no. It’s his personality. 

(Not technically relevant, but Pandora is a fucked–up name to give a kid, imo. I’m all for names inspired by Greek mythology, don’t get me wrong—but it comes from a virulently (and I mean that; it’s Hesiod) misogynistic story and it has… lots of negative undertones. PB also already has a character named Pandora? The captain of the Krypteia, no? And Victra’s flagship is named that, too? Dude. Branch out.

(No, no—I shouldn’t judge. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone and all that. I named a character in I&F vengeance, ffs. Even Golds aren’t that extra, I know! I’m sorry! It just sounds really cool.

(Also, realistically, if Cassius had children, they would be named after his relatives. Which leaves me to assume that there already is a Pandora au Bellona who died during GS; perhaps one of Cassius’ sisters? Or nieces? A favorite aunt? Not in AA, because I’ve already named everyone, but if the Bellona are still nebulous in your mind, this should be your thinking.)

All that said, I do understand where you’re coming from, anon. Why the ever–loving–fuck is PB saying things like this? About a character he needlessly butchered—narratively and literally? Why is he taunting us with speculations about what could’ve been?

If you know me, you know that I’m an adamant believer that Cassius’ arc should not have ended in martyrdom and that it’s not only a gross betrayal of his character that it did so but also deeply subversive of his characterization in RR–IG that it happened in that fashion. Which is. A digression for another time.

And, despite everything I’ve mentioned above, I think it was inevitable that Cassius would have children, if only to ensure the survival of his bloodline. Let’s not forget—I touched on this briefly already, but… he is the last Bellona. Even if Julia is his Bellona parent, she won’t be having more children at this point; if Cassius doesn’t reproduce, his House dies with him.

So, I’m inclined to think he would feel compelled to do so, that he would consider this an obligation that he’ll eventually have to fulfill, despite his disinterest and the misgivings that have delayed him thus far. It’s not something he would ever choose for himself but, despite Darrow’s best efforts, he’s never been in a position where he’s been free to make his own choices or be selfish for more than five minutes.

(And this is a huge part of the latter third of Alis Aquilae, actually, which covers the events of post–GS/MS; him finding a suitable wife and making an heir. Whether or not he actually manages to do that, well… you’ll just have to wait and see; 😉)

That said, PB royally fucked House Bellona by killing Cassius off childless. Unless Julia manages to pull one of Cassius’ bastard children out of a hat or artificially inseminate Pallas with Cassius’ sperm (Hey, stranger things have happened; remember Abom? Don’t underestimate my worstie, Julia. Pandora may very well already exist.) or something equally bizarre, well… they’re joever.

I may very well be the only person in the world bothered by this but... damn, am I bothered by it! Enough to make up for the general indifference and then some. 

And I do think girldad is in Cassius’ DNA, even if it’s failgirldad or semigirldad because, oops… I accidentally… adopted another maladjusted orphan. I mentioned in an earlier comment on I&F that, when I was speculating about what the Bellona family should look like and fleshing them out for the purposes of AA, it was obvious to me that Cassius needed a niece. He also has nephews, per the canon—Darrow mentions at least two of each in GS—but make no mistake, he’s for the girls.

One of Cassius’ strongest relationships in AA is with said niece, Amarantha, who he adores and spoils rotten; she’s also a positive and transformative influence on him, because he wants to exceed her expectations and prove himself worthy of her love. 

Throughout AA, Cassius finds it easier to connect with the girls in his family than the boys. His relationship with his younger sister, Phaedra (again, technically, my OC, but she is mentioned during the Gala), is quite twisted but manages to be all the more intimate for it, especially when juxtaposed with his younger brothers, with whom he has much more straightforward yet shallow relationships. 

(To clarify, I don’t mean incestually; yes, that clarification is necessary when we’re talking about the Family Bellona, especially in the context of AA.)

And it’s significant that future/speculative!Cassius would be more suited to a daughter than a son, given his general… issues with women and femininity. ‘What issues?’ you might ask? Well... I go into further detail here, but Cassius is the product of a rigidly hypermasculine society that punishes femininity, to the extent that even men of his status and station can be ostracized for it, and he has a proven tendency to objectify and/or idealize the women in his life.

However, in AA, one of Cassius’ closest relationships is with his older sister, Ariadne (again, technically an OC, but Cassius does have at least two older sisters and one older brother, in addition to Karnus, mentioned in RR), who is hyperfeminine to the extreme. She is the moment. She is the cuntress of your dreams. Nails, hair, hips, heels, etc. And Cassius is attracted to her lifestyle.

He’s envious, to an extent, of all their relatives that are free to pursue it; not just Ariadne, but also cousins of his that are not burdened by the expectations of being ‘Iron,’ who laugh in the faces of their haters and indulge themselves to their heart’s content. I’m not saying he’s an egg although I could and there are other men in a situation similar to his that are, but Cassius definitely enjoys femininity—as much as he enjoys masculinity. 

So, the girl in girldad is very important here. Boydad Cassius wouldn’t hit the same and it wouldn’t be as impactful—and I don’t just mean less indicative of his growth. Having a hyperfeminine daughter, specifically, would give Cassius an opportunity to finally… embrace this side of himself? That he’s been forced to suppress all his life.

Not saying that she wouldn’t also share his more stereotypically masculine interests; I don’t think any child of Cassius could escape being a duelist. But, in the Republic, she could be as much of a ‘Pixie’ as she likes without being considered ‘unbecoming of an Aureate of her status and station,’ as Cassius often was, and without social sanction.

I think he would encourage this—excessively so. It would heal some of his childhood trauma simply by being free to spoil her—and live vicariously through her, unfortunately. Because, as that quote above demonstrates, he has a subconscious tendency to try to ‘shape’ people into what he needs them to be. Acknowledging the behavior is the first step to correcting it, yes, but... bad habits are hard to break.

Would Cassius be a good father? Probably not. Even if he tried his damndest, that effort would not be consistent and his heart would never fully be in it. He’s... not Darrow. And he has so many unresolved issues, y’all. But an affectionate father? A permissive and supportive father? Definitely. 

After all, despite what Cassius says above, Lysander’s upbringing was clearly not lacking in love. Even at the very end, despite everything that he had done, he still felt secure in Cassius’ unconditional love for him; see this post for more on that.

So, Pandora could do worse. As long as her hypothetical mother isn’t any more unstable than Cassius and there’s a proverbial village involved, she’d probably turn out alright.

All said, this should’ve happened. For the sake of House Bellona—and mine, because I am unhealthily invested in their welfare—alone. But, bloodline aside, Cassius would’ve benefited immensely from having a daughter, imo. And it is incredibly shitty of PB to toss this around after massacring Cassius, figuratively and literally, in LB.

Salt in the wound? Yeah. A wholesale bag of it. Unsurprisingly, I still hate it here.

🙃

For what it’s worth, though, I doubt Pandora is a ‘scrapped idea’ from RG or anything like that. From what I understand, it was a hypothetical question. And PB really does just say shit. I don’t mean to be harsh, but look at this total ‘shoot from the hip’ response to an AMA. 

So... anything’s possible, sure. But ‘Pandora au Bellona’ probably didn’t exist before that interview; more likely than not, he made her up on the spot. It’s not cruelty; it’s… indifference? If that makes you feel any better, anon. Probably not.

But hey—don’t kill yourself. Ch. 15, okay?

[yeojaa]

LOVE HER, LEAVE HER - ft. pjm

You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember.  He loved you once, too.  But no one ever told you that sometimes that’s not enough.  That sometimes, loving is the hardest part.

pairing.  park jimin.

genre + rating.  angst.  fluff if you squint.  general.

warning / tags.  past relationship, break-up, unrequited love, moving on.  

reading.   n/a.  a stand-alone one-shot.  for now…

word count.  ~2200

“I miss you.”  He says, sweet and low and full of promise that you know he’ll never make good on.  His words ring eager, quietly drifting over airwaves to settle like a weighted blanket that keeps you rooted to the spot.  He beguiles you even as he tears you apart at the seams, stitching you together even as he ruins you.

Because you know it isn’t enough.  That you aren’t enough.

“Chim, please.”  You hate the way you sound - as if you’re begging for more.  Or maybe it’s less.  Frankly, you’re not sure what you want.

Would it be easier if he were gone?  Would the ache in your chest go away?  Would you be able to sleep without dreaming of him?  What would that be like?  It’s hard to imagine when he fits himself into every waking moment, his laughter ringing in your ears like a melody on loop and his brilliant smile burned into the backs of your eyelids.

“I’m sorry.”  But you think he must not be that sorry.  If he were, he wouldn’t do this again and again and again.

You’re so exhausted.  He knows that.  He must know that.  

Can’t he hear it in the way your voice trips over its own two feet, the heart cradled carefully in your hands shattering into a million little pieces?  Surely he can feel it when those same shards dig into his fingertips, begging to be put back together.

“You can’t keep doing this.”  There’s that desperation colouring your words the same pretty mosaic of black and blue as your broken heart.  “You can’t always come running back to me.  It isn’t fair.”

His silence speaks volumes - says more than the words you know he’s trying - and failing - to find.

“I love you.  You know I love you.  I’d do anything for you.”  Have done anything for him.

From staying up all night nursing his fever to picking him up at 3 AM when he’d decided he’d had enough to drink, you were always there.  You were always loyal.  A reliable presence in the otherwise unpredictable life of Park Jimin.

Maybe that’s why he did this.  Because he could - because you’d never stop him.

You were there, no matter when or why he called.  Even after he’d been out chasing the next big thing - and there was always something shinier, something better - you’d welcome him back with open arms, letting those devilishly long legs dance across your feelings as if they weren’t being crushed beneath his soles.

“I’m sorry.”  The apology is the same as it always is - heartfelt and affectionate.  All the love in the world is laced into each syllable.  It’s supposed to make you forget all about the pain, the way he strings you along and keeps you around.

And it does.  You hate it, but it does.

Because despite yourself, he’s the one.  He’s your one.  The one whose coffee order - two creams, a dollop of honey - you can’t get out of your mind.  The one whose hand warms yours when you’re cold, who loves you when you’re at your worst.  The one who you’ve invested every ounce of yourself in.

“I need time,”  he continues, as he always does.  “You know I love you too.”  You do.  Of course you do.  Even when you think he might not, you know better.  Despite all he does, he loves you in his own way.  “We’ll figure it out.  Just give me some time.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve given him days, weeks, months. That he’s had all the time in the world since he broke your heart a year ago.  Instead, you let yourself get lost in the way he tells you he loves you and how that ignites butterflies in your stomach, pretty little wings propelling your heart out of your broken brassy rib cage.

“How long?”  It’s a foolish, stupid question that you shouldn’t ask.  You’re never going to get the answer you want but you let yourself hope anyway.

“I don’t know.”  And that might be the most honest thing he’s said tonight.  He must realize it too, because his usual facade cracks and crumbles in the form of his voice faltering, hesitation creeping in like a cold chill.  You feel it in your bones, icicles forming beneath your skin.  You wonder if the patterns they form might resemble his silhouette.  “The right time will come.  It’s just not... right now.”

“I don’t know what that means.”  He doesn’t either, of course.  There’s no such thing as a right time.  You don’t live in a fairytale where things just fall into place, glass slipper fitting perfectly.

“Please trust me, baby.”

You hate how the pet name burrows into your thoughts, pervasive in the way it warms you from the inside out, thawing whatever icy exterior you’re trying and failing to uphold.

“This is so hard.”  You want to cry.  You can feel the tidal wave of emotion just beneath the warble of your words, a gargantuan wave threatening to overtake the current.  It climbs and recedes, never quite cresting.  You applaud yourself for holding it together so well.

“I know, I know.”

He has no idea. “You don’t know.”

“I do,” he insists in that way of his, the one that makes you feel silly and small.  It’s not condescending - far from it, in fact - but it’s so insistent that you momentarily think that you must be wrong.  “I think about you all the time.  You know that.”

“Don’t say that to me—”  Don’t get my hopes up, you think.

“You don’t want me to tell you how much you mean to me?  How it kills me to hear about you with someone else?”  You can just imagine his face, the way his mouth must pout around the question, already confident in the answer.  How he’d tilt his head just so, distracting you with the adoration in his eyes and the way his fluffy fringe would support his stare like a goddamn perfect picture frame.  “Because I do and it does.  I think about you every day.  I hate thinking of you with someone else, but as long as you like me more, I try to understand.  That’s how much I love you.”

Everything he says is a sucker punch knocking all the air from your lungs.  It’s like a certified K.O. that leaves you delirious on the ground, punch drunk in love and pain.

“I miss seeing you in my sweaters.  Or waking up holding you.  I think about how good you smell after a shower, or the way you laugh when I steal too much of the sheets.”  He’s so good at this - so fucking good at making you forget everything you hold against him.  It’s that patented Park Jimin charm that he turns on and dazzles you with.  It’s your weakness and he knows it.

It doesn’t mean it hurts any less, even when he’s spinning these cotton candy words that promise to keep you cozy.  Because you know the way it’s only temporary - that at any moment you might plummet through those sugar-spun clouds and shatter beyond comprehension.

“If you miss me so much—”

“Don’t say ‘if.’”  It’s not unkind and yet your cheeks heat, flooded with a guilt that gnaws at the pretty red ribbon that you’re sure connects the two of you.

“—then why can’t you just be with me?”  The million dollar question - another you know you’ll never get the right answer to - but, surprisingly, one you haven’t voiced. You’ve always been too shy, too soft, to make such a query.  It wasn’t in your wheelhouse of skills - so maybe that’s why it takes Jimin off guard.

He hesitates, pauses a beat too long as he mulls over your question.  “You know I don’t like ultimatums.”  It’s more of a relenting, a half-earned admission that doesn’t truly satisfy your curiosity.  

Somehow, it’s exactly what you’d expected.

Finality isn’t something he takes lightly.  He always weighs his options, considers all the pros and cons.  That’s why he still keeps you around - because you’re a safety net.  Even if he makes the wrong choice, you’ll always be there to welcome him back with open arms.  At least that’s what the horned advocate on your shoulder tells you, all red-eyed and spiteful.

“I know.”  There’s an unspoken - and unnecessary - apology threaded loosely between your words and the devil bristles, scowling at the man that could give her a run for her money.  Because surely that’s what Park Jimin is - Satan in disguise, leading you through the halls of Hell and calling it love.

You wonder how long you'll continue to follow him or if you'll ever stop.

It's two weeks later, on an overcast Wednesday afternoon, when he appears at your doorstep. 

"What're you doing here?"  The words come before you can help it, tipping off your tongue and crashing into the silence between you like a boulder.  It drags his sunny expression down with it, all the light in his eyes suddenly dimmed.  It makes your heart twist uncomfortably.

"Do I need to have a reason to come by?"  It's rhetorical, you're sure.  You can see it in the way he stares at you, the subtle turn of his jaw that doesn't leave much room for response.

He steps past you, silver-adorned fingers finding the shape of your waist, thumb drifting lazily over cotton as if it's the most natural thing in the world.  You suppose it is, but that doesn't keep your heart from thudding in your chest, nearly bursting out of its confines.  You have to remind yourself not to lean into the way he coaxes you closer, invades your personal space like you're one and the same.  It's near impossible.  You almost forget to breathe.

He smells so good - like Christmas morning, bright and crisp and dizzying to your senses.

"Didn't you miss me?"  Another question that doesn't beg an answer.  Yet he still demands one, presses insistence into the curve of your cheek, the silk at your temples.  His lips - full and pink and endlessly soft - trace his request, as intoxicating as cherry wine. 

"You know I did."  You mean to be reproachful, to steel your nerves against the fire he ignites beneath your skin.  "But you can't just show up like this."  Like you mean something to him - like he'll stay for longer than the day.  All words you should say, but can't.  Because despite it all, you'll take these secret, half-given parts of him and hope that you can piece them all together into something whole.

"I won't do it again,"  he says so sweetly you almost believe him.  

He's looking at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky and he's trying to find the meaning of the universe in the way your mouth curves and the flutter of your lashes.  But then again, it's nothing new.  You know he'll be distracted when the next meteor shower comes, all too fascinated by the streaks that illuminate the night sky and dim your light.

When you don't immediately respond, giving into him in that same way you always do, his expression shifts, twists and turns around a poorly hidden frown that marks his otherwise pretty features.  There's an edge now, all sharp corners that you cut yourself on in your haste to appease him. 

"Let's not fight."  

Three simple words and he's  your own personal Apollo again, bringing the glory and warmth of the sun into your atmosphere.  He strikes you with the way he smiles, how his eyes wane into little crescents - the moon and sun to your stars.  It's like basking in the July heat and it warms you from the inside out;  it reminds you of every happy memory, painted in rosy shades that keep you coming back for more, more, more.  

"Good idea."  He's catching your hands in his own and pulling you close, booted foot kicking the front door closed with a soft thud.  "Let's watch a movie and lay in bed all day.  I'll even braid your hair."  A small, inconsequential thing to anyone else but one that makes your heart soar. 

It feels so much like what it used to be.  How can you say no to this?  To him?

"I get to pick what we watch,"  you finally give in, relaxing into the way he holds you.  It's home in every sense of the word, lulling you into a sense of security you can't find anywhere else.  Your head slots into the space between his neck and shoulder, nose cold against his collar.  You inhale once, twice - the sweet scent of nectarines and flowers - and try to commit this moment to memory, tucking it neatly among the folded pages you've written together.  

"Of course, baby."  

And before you know it, you're two bodies folded as one.  Where his breath is yours and your heart beats in his chest, limbs tangled and intertwined as wholly as can be while some movie plays forgotten in the background.  When his laugh sounds from your lips and you can feel his pulse in your ears.

You wish it were enough.  It'll never be enough.

notes.  this fic is mainly based on the idea that... jiminie is a big libra baby.  a big, flirty, won’t-let-go-but-won’t-make-up-his-mind libra baby.  i say this with experience, as a fellow big libra baby.

anyway, i was supposed to finish chapters for two other stories but instead, you get this soft, nonsensical angst.  enjoy!