#i am trying to confront my personal reality and it is daunting

[staticpine]

As a kennith simmons fictive i try my best to avoid who i am at all costs and just try to Be A Normal Guy. Turnd out that has been a bad move anf it has cause me multiple problems. Fuck

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Driven by Friendship

Note: Okay so I have no idea what I wroteSo if there are mistakes, please tell me (which I'm sure there will be) tbh I don't like it so maybe I will delete it later. Oh and we need more fics about these two men sadly. [They can hit me with a car and I'd say thank you]

Warnings: Language, Sexism,Injury,Emotional Conflict...(anything else? I don't know, let me know;3) Use of nicknames hase [bunny] (german correct me if I am wrong) darling, love..

Rbr!Sebastian vettel x fem!driver!reader,

Jenson Button x fem!driver!reader..

Summary: The story follows readers and Sebastian's friendship from karting to Formula 1. Tensions rise, leading to a collision and strained relations. Unexpected friendships.Despite support from Jenson Button, Sebastian's betrayal deepens the rift, emphasizing the importance of friendship.

From the moment you and Sebastian met at the local karting track as kids, you were inseparable. You shared a passion for racing that burned brighter than the sun, and together, you conquered every track and championship in your path.

As you grew older, your dreams of reaching Formula 1 together only strengthened. But along the way, you faced countless obstacles, none more daunting than the prejudice and skepticism of the male-dominated racing world.

journalists were quick to criticize you, questioning your skills and abilities simply because you were a woman in a sport traditionally dominated by men. But you refused to let their words discourage you, fueled by the unwavering support of Sebastian and your fellow drivers.

"Seb, did you hear what they're saying about me?" you asked one evening, frustration evident in your voice.

"Ignore them, Hase. You know they're just trying to get under your skin," Sebastian replied, his tone firm.

"But it's not fair! I've worked just as hard as anyone else to be here," you protested.

"I know, and I believe in you. We'll show them together," Sebastian said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

When Mark Webber retired in 2013, you saw an opportunity to join Red Bull Racing. You and Sebastian became teammates,It was a dream come true, a childhood dream to be teammates, and finally that dream came true, but little did you know that it would test the strength of your friendship in ways you never imagined.

As teammates, you and Sebastian were thrilled to be racing together at the highest level. But as the season progressed, tensions began to rise. Competitive instincts clashed with personal loyalties, and soon, your friendship was strained.

After a few races, tragedy struck. In a moment of miscommunication on the track, you and Sebastian collided, sending both of you spinning off into the gravel trap. The aftermath was tense, emotions running high as blame was exchanged.

"What were you thinking? You cut across me!" Sebastian's voice was filled with frustration as he confronted you in the garage.

"Me? You're the one who didn't leave me any room! I had nowhere to go," you shot back, your own anger rising to match his.

The tension between you simmered, neither willing to back down. But as the adrenaline faded and the reality of what had happened set in, you both knew that something had to change.

"Seb, can we talk?" you asked tentatively, breaking the silence between you a few days later. "Oh and I brought peace of offering." You showed him donuts and ice-cream.

"Sure, Hase. What's on your mind?" Sebastian replied, his expression cautious.

"I just... I don't want things to be like this between us," you said, your voice softening.

"Neither do I," Sebastian admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "I'm sorry for what I said. I was angry, but that's no excuse."

"I'm sorry too. I should have been more aware of my surroundings," you replied, a weight lifting off your shoulders.

As the season progressed, the strain on your relationship became more apparent. Small disagreements turned into heated arguments, and soon, you found yourselves avoiding each other both on and off the track.

"I can't believe you let me down out there," Sebastian muttered bitterly after a particularly disappointing race.

"I'm not the one who's been making mistakes lately," you retorted, unable to hide your own frustration.

The words hung between you like a dark cloud, a stark reminder of how far you had drifted from the friendship you once shared.

During a press conference, you faced harsh criticism from male journalists (again) questioning your abilities and suggesting that you didn't belong in Formula 1. As the questions became more pointed, you looked to Sebastian for some support, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"And what do you say to those who claim you're only here because of your connection to Sebastian Vettel?" one journalist asked, a hint of malice in his voice.

You felt the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. as you struggled to find a response, Jenson Button stepped in, defending you with a passion that brought tears to your eyes.

I've raced against her, and let me tell you, she's one of the most talented drivers I've ever had the privilege of competing against," Jenson said, his voice unwavering.

"She's earned her place in Formula 1 through hard work and determination, not because of who she knows," he continued, his words a lifeline in a sea of doubt.

As the press conference came to an end, you felt a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Jenson's unwavering support even in the face of adversity.

As the press conference came to an end, you felt a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Jenson's unwavering support even in the face of adversity.

After the journalists filed out of the room, you turned to Jenson, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you.

"Jenson, I don't know what to say," you began, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jenson smiled warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You don't have to say anything, darling. We're all in this together, remember?"

You nodded, feeling a swell of gratitude for his kindness. "Thank you, Jenson. I don't know what I would have done without you," you admitted, a lump forming in your throat.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Jenson replied, his gaze sincere. "Just remember, you belong here just as much as anyone else. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

His words resonated with you, a reminder that you were not alone in this fight. With a grateful smile, you squeezed Jenson's hand, silently thanking him for being the friend you needed in that moment of doubt.

"I won't forget it, Jenson. Thank you," you said, your voice filled with conviction.

And as you left the press conference room, a renewed sense of determination filled your heart. Though the road ahead would be challenging, you knew that with friends like Jenson by your side, you could face anything that came your way.

Back in the garage, you confronted Sebastian, hurt and anger bubbling to the surface.

"Why didn't you defend me out there, i thought we had each others back?" you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I... I don't know. I just... I didn't know what to say," Sebastian stammered, his eyes filled with regret.

"You could have said something, anything!" you cried, feeling the weight of his silence like a betrayal.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the regret there, a silent acknowledgment of his failure to stand by you when you needed him most.

The tension between you and Sebastian had reached a breaking point, with each passing day bringing more heated arguments and strained interactions. But just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, there was a knock on your hotel room door.

With a sense of trepidation, you opened the door to find Sebastian standing on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face and a box of donuts and a tub of ice cream in his hands.

"I come bearing peace offerings," he said, his tone lighthearted but sincere.

You couldn't help but smile at his gesture, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. Donuts and ice cream had been your tradition for as long as you could remember, a symbol of your friendship and the bond you shared.

"I guess old habits die hard," you replied, stepping aside to let him in.

What followed was a week of laughter and camaraderie, as you and Sebastian fell back into your old rhythms, joking around and laughing at each other's jokes and antics. It felt like old times, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

But as the week drew to a close, the tension returned, hanging between you like a heavy fog. And despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of friendship, the cracks in your relationship began to show once again.

The once inseparable bond you shared seemed to fade further into the distance with every awkward silence and tense exchange.

As the season pressed on, the weight of your strained relationship began to take its toll on both of you.

"Are you crazy? You almost crash into me!" Sebastian's voice was filled with frustration as he confronted you in the garage.

"Me? Are you blind?You were in front of me, you braked and we both almost hit the wall!"

you shot back, your own anger rising to match his. The tension between you simmered, neither willing to back down. But as the adrenaline faded and the reality of what had happened set in, you both knew that something had to change.

despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of friendship, the cracks in your relationship began to show once again.

The strain between you and Sebastian was palpable, lingering like an unspoken truth in the air. Despite the temporary respite of laughter and shared memories, the underlying issues remained unresolved, simmering beneath the surface.

With each passing day, it became increasingly clear that the competition between you was more than just a temporary setback.

And as you navigated the twists and turns of the race track, you couldn't help but wonder if the biggest challenge you faced wasn't the competition on the circuit, but the battle to salvage what was left of your fractured friendship with Sebastian.

The fight between you and Sebastian was like a collision on the track—explosive, unpredictable, and fraught with tension. It began with a series of small disagreements, simmering beneath the surface until it finally erupted into a full-blown confrontation.

As the dust settled and blame was exchanged, tempers flared, and harsh words were spoken in the heat of the moment.

Accusations flew back and forth, each of you convinced of your own innocence and the other's culpability.

As emotions ran high, the fight spilled over from the track into the garage, where heated arguments and bitter accusations threatened to tear apart the fabric of your friendship. Both of you dug in your heels, unwilling to back down, each convinced of the righteousness of your own perspective.

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was also a sense of betrayal feeling that the person you once trusted implicitly had let you down when you needed them most. And as the fight dragged on, it became increasingly clear that repairing the damage done to your relationship would be no easy task.

The fight between you and Sebastian reached a boiling point in the garage after the race.

"What were you thinking?!" Sebastian's voice was sharp with frustration as he confronted you.

"Are you serious, Seb? I left you plenty of room! You just didn't take it!" you shot back, your own frustration boiling over.

"I had nowhere to go! You squeezed me into the wall!" Sebastian's voice rose, matching your intensity.

"I didn't squeeze you into anything! You should have backed off!" you retorted, the tension between you crackling like lightning.

The team members nearby exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating conflict between their drivers. But neither of you seemed willing to back down, each too stubborn to concede the other's point.

Just as the argument between you and Sebastian threatened to escalate further, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" Jenson Button's calm voice broke through the heated exchange, his presence commanding attention.

You and Sebastian both turned to see Jenson standing in the doorway of the garage, his expression calm but firm.

"nothing," Sebastian started, but Jenson held up a hand to silence him.

"Nothing? From where I'm standing, it looks like a whole lot of something," Jenson replied, his gaze moving between you and Sebastian.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Sebastian fell silent, his jaw clenched in frustration. You too remained silent, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief at Jenson's intervention.

"Look, I get it. Racing is intense, emotions run high, but you two are teammates, friends even. You can't let this come between you," Jenson continued, his tone gentle but firm.

"We'll talk about this later," he said, turning his attention to Sebastian. "But for now, I think it's best if you both cool off."

With a nod from Jenson, Sebastian reluctantly backed down, his expression tense but resigned. You too felt the tension draining from your body, grateful for Jenson's intervention.

The final race of the season loomed ahead like a storm on the horizon. With both of you fighting for the championship title, the stakes had never been higher.

But as the race unfolded, it became increasingly clear that this would be no ordinary battle. Sebastian's desperation to win seemed to override any sense of sportsmanship, resorting to aggressive maneuvers and risky tactics to gain an advantage.

In the final moments of the race, as you and Sebastian went wheel to wheel, the unthinkable happened. With a sudden lunge, Sebastian executed a dirty move, forcing your car off the racing line and into a spin that sent you careening off the track and into the barriers.

Time seemed to stand still as your car crumpled against the unforgiving concrete, the impact reverberating through your body like a shockwave. And in that moment, as the realization of what had just happened sank in, a profound sense of betrayal washed over you like a tidal wave.

Sebastian's victory celebration felt hollow against the backdrop of your shattered dreams and broken trust. As he stood on the podium, basking in the glory of his championship win, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness, knowing that the cost of his victory had been the loss of your friendship.

And as the season came to a close, the rift between you and Sebastian widened into an unbridgeable chasm, the bonds of friendship irreparably broken by the events of that fateful race. In the end, it wasn't the thrill of victory that defined the season, but the bitter taste of betrayal and the painful realization that some wounds never truly heal.

As Jenson stepped into the hospital room, you noticed the concern etched into his features, a stark contrast to the composed demeanor he usually exuded. His presence was a welcome sight, offering a glimmer of solace amidst the turmoil of the aftermath.

"Hey," Jenson began softly, his voice filled with empathy as he approached your bedside. "How are you holding up?"

You mustered a weak smile, grateful for his presence in the midst of the chaos. "I've been better," you admitted, the weight of recent events pressing down on you.

Jenson nodded, his expression somber. "I saw what happened out there. I'm so sorry."

The memory of the crash flashed through your mind, the sensation of spinning out of control still fresh in your memory. Tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled the betrayal of seeing Sebastian's maneuver unfold before you.

"I don't understand why he would do that," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jenson's gaze softened, a mixture of sympathy and understanding in his eyes. "I wish I had an answer for you. All I know is that you didn't deserve any of this."

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, offering a sliver of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. As you met his gaze, gratitude flooded your heart, a silent acknowledgment of the unwavering support he had shown you in your darkest hour.

"Thank you for being here, Jenson," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Jenson reached out, grasping your hand in his own, a gesture of solidarity and reassurance. "Always, love. You're not alone in this."

And in that moment, as you felt the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you had a friend by your side who would stand with you through it all.

So the end...it was bad I know,but It was fun to write it.

Can you guess my inspiration? I give you hint "Silver Arrows"

I love drama

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue.

❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: 23.0k;

❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

What was supposed to be a light-hearted tease over your fleeting glimpses in his direction bears much more weight than even reality should have; and unbeknownst to her, even if your friend’s commentary strikes a fear in you, a fear that has some creature eating away at you and a horrifying drop in the twisted pain of your chest, the daunting knowledge of a potential truth behind her words pale in comparison to the anguish brought upon by a familiar face of the past. 

Because even as you stand far and hidden behind the crowd of overly dressed classmates and unacquainted businessmen all painted by a silhouette of dimmed black, you manage to observe him through the few albeit sure opportunities; for when the passersby chatter, cross, and weave through the lavish ballroom floor at the perfect time, place, and space for you to peep through the pinholes seemingly formed by pure happenstance or a cruel wish casted upon by fate, the clock returns to a buried state of mind.  

It’s a state of mind seven years stale, mistakenly manifested and deliberately buried. It’s a transition in mindsets when fondness sours into a longing for something that could never be, for his reciprocation of affections means much less than its origins. It’s a heavy moment when you’re finally sure he would never come to speak the language of your enamored being. It’s that fractured frame in time when everyone freezes in their tracks but a reverberating pain transcends the laws of the universe, almost as if on a personal quest to oust you; and even if you vehemently down yourself with another magical shot of liquor, nothing can quite ease the internal war stirring within.

One hand grasping a glass of red wine worth much more than a month of your salary and one arm crossed under the bosom draped over by your only presentable black satin slip dress, you’re almost numb to the turmoil that is irony. How cruel is it that even after seven years of having believed you had moved on, nothing has really changed after all? Your heart still melts in the wake of his dorky grin, your chest still winces over the buried buds of a coveted love, and your blood still runs intoxicated by the presumption that this phase of infatuation would pass with time. 

Your friendship, your feelings, your shared promise, a youth that no one had paid witness to except for you, him, and that cherry blossom tree down that street, nothing has really changed. In fact, you feel as though you could still march across this room and nonchalantly probe at your best friend’s cheek with the ultimate goal of eliciting a shriek from your best friend. 

And yet, the circumstances that have brought you back to him in this very room must have been the one cruel exception. 

“A ‘homewrecker?’” you feign a light-hearted chuckle, swirling your drink and taking another sip as you peek at the distorted glass-image of the man and the woman beside him. “And why would you say something as horrifying as that?”

“Didn’t you say you and, what’s his name,” Alex pauses before nearly gasping, “ah, Seokjin! Didn’t you say you two used to be best friends in college? You might have been his best friend but she’s his fiance now, Y/N! Plus, she’s got a baby in her, too.” 

She might have been joking, and it really should have been if you had been truthful about your feelings for said best friend, but maybe this is the price you’re paying for so dutifully holding onto your dignity; so, instead, the deep undercut of her remark instigates a stirring irritation within you. Raising a questioning brow at your friend is all you can muster without spilling your secret as well as your brewing storm. 

“Oh, so you actually do remember what I say when you’re only a minute from blacking out?” 

“Hey,” your friend recognizes the anger seeping through your body language, stifling a giggle as she tries to bump your elbow and stumbles over her heels, “it was a joke, okay? I’m just looking out for my friend!”

“Right, what is there to even look out for?” 

“Well,” she points a finger at the direction you had just been staring off into a minute prior and leans in to whisper, “you’ve been staring at the newly engaged man for much longer than the woman beside him, if that says anything—”

“—uhuh, as if, hey!” you almost yelp as you help her stand upright once again. A scoff of disbelief escapes your lips over the sight of your friend letting herself go. Grabbing her glass and swiftly placing it onto the tray of the many passing waiters, you squish her cheeks and give her a light pat or two. “The only person you need to worry about is yourself. Why are you even wearing those ungodly stilettos when you can’t even wear kitten heels without whining all day at work?”

“Hey,” Alex pouts, bending one knee and jutting her hips to show off those torturous pink devices on her feet. “I told you about my ex from high school, don’t you remember?”

“So it’s okay if you’re trying to impress an ex from high school, but I’m not even allowed to glance at my old best friend?” you quip, pressing your lips into a thin line as you take another gander at your friend up and down. “And what does excessive drinking even have anything to do with it?” 

She flashes you a mischievous grin, “for confidence.”

“I can’t with you,” the roll of your eyes must have agreed, “and what about the classmate friend who actually invited you to her engagement party?”

“Oh,” Alex glances at the woman beside Jin and shrugs, “she’s alright. She’s that typical good girl. Too smart, too kind, too good at everything that you really want to hate her but have no reason to do so. I’m sorry, Y/N, but your best friend is devilishly handsome and I’m not surprised she’s marrying someone of her league.” 

“Pfft, why are you apologizing to me?” you scoff, ushering her to the washroom and shaking your head along with the stream of confusing emotions that hit you like a truck. “Go wake yourself up before she or, gasp, worse yet, your ex spots you.” 

“Oh my God, you’re right,” she gasps, shuffling in her skintight red bodycon dress and whirling around once more to call out before finally disappearing, “let me know if any boy comes looking for me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah, sure,” you shoo her away, taking another sip from your glass and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supposed to recognize your high school classmates?”

Now that your friend is gone and you’re left all alone to your thoughts, you go against your own advice and down another glass of liquor. 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Well, if Alex is a good judge of character, then at least a good man like your best friend has found an equally respectful woman. It might have hurt to hear her words, but Alex isn’t exactly wrong. At the very least, you could sigh in relief having known you’re genuinely happy for your best friend’s future. 

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes. 

Relief isn’t an excuse for lingering onto a soon-to-be-married man, regardless of when these emotions came about. 

People are chattering all around you, strangers and former acquaintances are bustling about, familiar college classmates are greeting the bride-to-be’s high school classmates, and yet here you are: aloof and isolated even in a room of hundreds, fixated and more distant than you have ever been to the boy you had once cherished as the closest anyone could get to knowing the real you. 

No one would know but Jin. 

The real you.

The you who could not have moved on because she couldn’t recognize her own feelings until seven years down the road with a wedding invitation in hand, seven years after the buds had been sowed, seven years too late. 

The one who stands pathetically here in the corner of a room, secretly hoping for him to approach her but also wishing for the night to pass unnoticed just like she had wished for her buried affections to pass.  

So you shuffle in place awkwardly, pondering whether you should’ve caved into Alex’s pleas and attended this posh get-together, debating whether you should dip once your friend realizes her high school ex just isn’t worth it, sipping the remainder of opulent liquor and taking one last peek at the boy, when, your heart strikes loudly against your chest…

...because his eyes catch yours, a pair amongst hundreds, one invitee amidst an endless swarm of crowds, almost as if on a planned rendezvous, a secret unbeknownst to everyone in the room but the two of you.

Eyes widening in shock, the drums of your chest hammer against you, each strike pumping a nearly painful high that fuels your fight or flight mode. The debate between confronting your longtime friend and fleeing said friend did not even cross your mind at the start of the predicament. Quickly whirling around, head down and hands gripped to your drink, your feet move on its own. 

A familiar series of clicks echo against the polished marble tiles. You don’t even have to turn around to recognize those homecoming footsteps, those awe-inspiring confident strides as he makes his way across the room. If this were you from seven years ago, you would have welcomed him with open arms and he would have claimed you were just acting sweet to bargain for some fresh pastry, but the unfamiliarity of a stranger you have yet to reconcile with has you in an unexplainable panic. 

After all, it’s hard to explain why exactly his persistent pursuit after you, after seven years of distance, both emotional and physical, frustrates you to no ends. 

Your hands form fists, your feet storm down the halls, and your mind could repeat nothing but the words you had excused as “just a light-hearted joke.” 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance. 

A homewrecker.

The accusations echo and echo, as though screaming at you in the endless cave that is your mind, until the party fades, the crowd disappears, and the ear-piercing classical music wanes against the walls of your temporary solace, the bathroom. Finally, entrapped in a world of black—black tiles, wine colored walls, and dark red roses perched on top of what seems to be a black granite sink—you’re left alone to your thoughts. 

Alex wouldn’t understand a seven-year-long regret because she doesn’t know the real history between you and Jin. In fact, no one invited to this engagement party nor does anyone in this whole mansion know of the soon-to-be groom’s past. 

It isn’t as simple as people might make it out to be on the surface, because no one but you, Jin, and the street down your block had paid witness to a shoddy, spontaneous promise that should have never been made. 

Turning on the faucet and splashing a fresh handful of cold water onto your face, your eyes eventually wander from the stream of water that flows down the drain up along the glass bowl of a sink and into the mirror to meet the sullen eyes of a girl, seven years older with a stain of regret that spans much longer that a mere seven years. 

❀ ❀ ❀

“Waaah,” the boy exclaims as you watch your own reflection narrow its eyes at the image beside you. The spectacle persists to angle his chin every which way until he’s finally satisfied with the protrusion of his jawline; and as the boy resumes his daily activity of marveling at himself in awe, you have to wonder once again, for the hundredth time by now, just how you two had possibly become best friends. “Looking good, Jin. Looking real good.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes and feign nausea, “narcissist.” 

Jin pauses in the midst of his inspection, allowing his phone to settle into his lap and turning to glance at you with his head as high—well, almost as high—as his ego. “When you look as good as this,” he gestures at himself and your eyes follow his crafty fingers up and down, “don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t be all up in yourself.”

You blink your eyes blankly and start with the most accusatory tone you could muster, “excuse you, Kim Seokjin, but are you saying that I don’t look good?” 

“You’re insisting that yourself, not me! It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate your God-given looks,” Jin raises his hands mercifully and you almost miss his latter, back-handed compliment when you become entranced by those double-jointed fingers of his. “Plus, I said ‘when you look as good as this.’”

“Psh, yeah,” you mumble, “and yet here you are, still as forever alone as ever.”

“Hey,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you even as he raises his phone to take yet another selfie, “and what does that say about you?”

“...and that’s exactly why,” you chirp as you hastily smush your cheek against his and throw a peace sign just as he snaps a photo, “we’re gonna be forever alone together!” 

“Hey, why’re you ruining my selfie—” he pauses in the middle of his camera roll “—oh, we actually look good.”

Glimpsing at one of many candid photos of you and him, a helpless smile spreads across your lips. A warm breeze blows and you can practically smell the impending spring that breathes life into the pink buds hovering on the cherry tree above you. The sun’s embrace against your bare legs that lie beside your best friend’s on the red and white checkered picnic is a perfect compliment to the equally bright phenomena that are his high-pitched giggles; and like the many days you’ve spent the past year, the only thing that could possibly elevate this moment of serenity would be a bite of his weekly pastry batches.  

Speaking as you chow down on the carbs, you quip, “you mean you look good?” 

“That, too, but I meant us, together—” he articulates, cutting himself off abruptly when he snaps his head to find you digging into one of his many bread “—hey, who said you could start testing without me?!” 

“Too many selfies, too slow, too hungry,” you lean your head back to plop the remainder of the custard-filled bread into your mouth, “shmorry Jin, but dish ish delicious.”

Just as you lean forward and take another large bite out of the batch, Jin catches right up to you, snatching the remainder and plopping it right into his now-stuffed cheeks instead. Lips falling agape at the disappearance of your bite-size donut, you gawk at your best friend whomst chomps happily away with your piece in his mouth. 

You can still recall the heat of your cheeks after the first time he had ever proclaimed something that was yours as his—in fact, it wasn’t much long ago when Jin had nearly regurgitated a mouthful of mocha frappuccino after discovering you had sneaked in a sip or two prior—but now? Sharing commodities has become such second nature to you two that sometimes you wish he could return to his germophobic days just so you can hog all the food…

...and maybe to relive whatever magical flutters that had befallen you on that very first day.

“Of coursh ish delicious!” he manages to exclaim incoherently. “Kim Sheokjin baked it afta all!” 

“Yeah,” you take a long moment to gulp and make room for more food, “I think I prefer the ones with custard—”

“—so it’s a perfect batch just like m—”

“—almost perfect.”

You could see yourself wink through the prideful glint in his eyes quickly plummet into a glare that has you laughing at the downfall of his indestructible ego. His playful glare through the corner of his narrowed eyes silently commences yet another one of your daily staring challenges. Maybe that’s why the two of you made such a perfect pair amongst the thousands of classmates at school. After all, how would Jin ever find someone as tolerant of his incessant dad jokes and perpetual ego as you are? And how would you ever find someone who would bake you goods and cook you lunch and, not to mention, spout such peculiar humor? 

All of your classmates had dubbed the two of you as the perfect comedy duo—the dumb and the dumber, the silly and the sillier—that, apparently, is the essence of a match made in heaven, albeit probably meant to be more platonically than romantically. 

Both too stubborn to lose, even in a meaningless game of a staring contest, not even the heat of the sun rays that has you two nearly sweating bullets could deter the match. Eventually, seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into a frenzy frozen moment in time as you start to fall into the sudden abyss you found yourself in that is the warmth pool of his eyes. 

Perhaps it’s the angle at which the rays strike theatrically on the apples of his cheeks, illuminating his dewy skin and enhancing the chocolate hues of his orbs hidden underneath the matching brown locks of his all whilst his eyes happen to be staring right back at you. You’ve never quite felt this way before—heart palpitating, throat constricting, and mind panicking—but for the first time ever, you’re hesitant in allowing your best friend to peer through the windows to your soul. 

This isn’t good. What would he do if he were to discover your frenzy? Would he tease you to no ends? 

Worse yet, would he falsely assume that you’re hardcore crushing on him…?

“Oh God,” you blurt out, breaking eye contact to avert your head to the side across the street. Your lips begin to mumble whatever comes first to mind, “uh, wow, look at that couple. Ugh, PDA—” your eyes flicker to find Jin raising a brow just before your eyes avert once again and he follows your line of sight “—am I right?” 

“Oh c’mon! Just admit it,” Jin chides. “You’re only using this to disguise the fact that you were just about to blink, weren’t you?” 

“I was not about to blink,” you insist but your shifty gaze tells the both of you otherwise, even if the true lack of confidence is unbeknownst to Jin. “You suck at staring contests. How many times have I won before? I was just distracted, okay?”

“Oh yeah?” Jin crosses his arms. “Distracted by what, then? Huuuh? By my devastatingly good looks?”

“No!” you exclaim almost too adamantly that you have to add in a nervous laugh at the end, which only has Jin staring at you in utter disbelief. Feigning an apologetic pressed smile, you gesture your hands in the direction of the couple supposedly hidden behind a fence but clearly exposed to those on a hill, otherwise known as you two. “I meant them—”

“—ew!”

The both of you exclaim in unison, selflessly covering the tarnished eyes of the other and ducking away from the moment of intimacy that you two had just intruded on. 

“Aw, cmon! Even after graduation, too?” Jin remarks, mouth gaping and hands falling from your shielded eyes only to be thrown to his side in bewilderment. “Does everyone really have to remind us just how lonely we are even on our last day?” 

“You mean how lonely we are and how lonely we will be for the rest of our lives?”

“For the rest of our lives?” Jin quirks a brow at you before shaking his head and shrugging. “Dang, that wasn’t exactly my plan, because the world will be forced to acknowledge my looks sooner or later, but I mean, in your case…”

“What?!” you gasp in disbelief, slapping his arm hard enough for him to wince. “What do you mean ‘in your case?’ I bet you haven’t even kissed someone yet!” 

Jin snarls at you as he pulls his arm back and retorts, “yeah? And I bet you haven’t either!” 

“Actually, I have, with Joon at that party last year,” you say smugly, crossing your arms with a chin held high, “and you just admitted you haven’t had your first kiss yet.”

“Psh, yeah, I haven’t, and?" the boy holds his head high akin to a child arguing with his body and not with his words. “Because I prefer to save it for something meaningful unlike someone here.” 

“Hey, are you insinuating that it wasn’t meaningful?”

“You’ve always told me how much you hated parties!” he throws his hands up. “Plus, you don’t even like Joon! You said his breath stinks!” 

“Well—” you pause but no words come to you except for a loud grunt “—ugh, fine. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he turns away, leaning into his right hand with an elbow propped against his crisscrossed lap. “I’m Kim Seokjin, after all.” 

Following suit, you mumble into your propped hand, “I guess that’s why we’re friends in the first place. Together and, yet, still forever alone.”

“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”

“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.” 

“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”

“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”

“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”

“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?” 

Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”

“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”

“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”

“—shut up.” 

“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”

“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?” 

Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush warmth against your skin. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”

“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.” 

“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?” 

A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.

As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you. 

And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks. 

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

❀ ❀ ❀

That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly. 

On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”

This is awkward. So painfully awkward. 

“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?” 

“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.” 

“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?” 

He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.” 

“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?” 

The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind. 

He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.

“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.” 

A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book. 

So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts,  but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience. 

Why?

Why can’t he remember? 

Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?

“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”

He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours. 

To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”

“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”

A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”

“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.” 

“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?” 

“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—”  he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—” 

“—dumb…?”

The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”

“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!” 

“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!” 

At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes. 

“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?” 

“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”

Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”

“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.” 

“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!” 

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality. 

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?” 

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction. 

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!” 

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now. 

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.” 

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance. 

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?” 

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip. 

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?” 

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands. 

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago? 

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly. 

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.” 

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?” 

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be. 

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t. 

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.” 

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.” 

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe. 

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one. 

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two. 

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time. 

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber. 

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!” 

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…” 

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?” 

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?” 

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place. 

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?” 

“Heee.” 

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.” 

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?” 

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life. 

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool. 

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you. 

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory. 

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?” 

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!” 

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her. 

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.” 

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.” 

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma���am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past. 

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.” 

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth. 

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter. 

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’” 

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?” 

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal. 

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.” 

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage. 

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ” 

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?” 

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”  

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?” 

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either. 

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite. 

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?” 

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?” 

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars. 

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.” 

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?” 

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!” 

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance? 

Is this it? Is this really it? The end? 

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you? 

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way. 

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not. 

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back. 

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder? 

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.” 

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong. 

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.” 

A second passes. 

Now, two. 

Then, three. 

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr. 

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours. 

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true. 

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.” 

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.  

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.” 

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.” 

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry. 

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love? 

The only one you would be hurting is yourself. 

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night. 

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.” 

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger. 

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge. 

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.” 

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.” 

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!” 

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?” 

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged. 

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?” 

“About the wedding, silly!” 

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers. 

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?” 

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.” 

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?” 

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that. 

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?” 

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing. 

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s. 

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?” 

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.” 

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.” 

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.” 

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words. 

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?” 

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality. 

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?” 

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.” 

“And… you’ll take care of him?” 

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay. 

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty. 

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams. 

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?” 

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.” 

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.  

“Alright, fine.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse. 

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?” 

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.” 

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin. 

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night? 

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk. 

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.” 

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.” 

“...oh, really?” 

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring…  you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.” 

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.” 

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”  

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.” 

“You picked this five years ago…?” 

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.” 

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!” 

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half. 

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most. 

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.” 

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond. 

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time. 

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed? 

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?” 

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.” 

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl  “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!” 

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!” 

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!” 

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you. 

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?” 

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!” 

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you. 

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.” 

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”  

“Aren’t you… mad?” 

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?” 

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!” 

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!” 

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to? 

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?” 

“I heard what you said about me.” 

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”  

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.” 

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’” 

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”  

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go. 

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling.  You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight. 

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again. 

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick? 

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.” 

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push. 

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it. 

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size.  Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!” 

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips.  “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”  

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?” 

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze. 

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!” 

“Blessing...?” 

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done. 

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.” 

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected. 

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?” 

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.” 

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?” 

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy. 

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him. 

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant. 

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now. 

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief. 

Everyone but you follows along. 

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions. 

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place. 

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man. 

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” 

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.” 

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.” 

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.” 

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes. 

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?” 

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into. 

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe. 

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood. 

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?” 

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission. 

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet. 

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.” 

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams. 

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere. 

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street. 

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight. 

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in. 

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances. 

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head. 

You have to go. 

Where? 

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him. 

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.” 

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above. 

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?” 

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.” 

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.” 

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.” 

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?” 

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.” 

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response. 

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.” 

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?” 

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?” 

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?” 

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...” 

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?” 

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end. 

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged. 

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!” 

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.” 

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale. 

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.” 

“What was that for?” you giggle. 

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.” 

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?” 

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?” 

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?” 

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?” 

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.” 

[zombiesun]

is it possible to manifest getting over your fears or at least confronting them? do you have any tips on manifesting in general? (you don't have to answer this if you don't want, i completely understand)

I am starting to think you guys are scared of me based on how many times you reassure me that I don’t have to answer your questions. I promise you, if I didn’t want to answer something I would (and have) delete the ask. I however love giving advice and introducing people to different aspects of magik and divination so it’s pretty rare that I don’t answer question of that nature. 

Manifestation is something that you can apply to virtually anything. I’ve manifested money, jobs, relationships, friendships, and physical/mental attributes. I think when it comes to emotional changes though manifestation isn’t going to necessarily “work” unless you actually do the physical work to clear the blockages you have around that particular area. In your case, you want to manifest overcoming fears or putting yourself in a mental state to confront them.This is why I always point people to shadow work long before I point them to any particular magical practice. It is hard to find the cure for an issue you don’t understand and when it comes to our inner landscape you have to actually know what you’re working with before you start asking the universe to remove things.

I would suggest googling a list of shadow work prompts and picking ones that are focused around fears/limitations and start a journal (either digitally or traditionally depending on how your thoughts most easily flow) and work on it for a month. It won’t be glamorous work and it will hurt before it helps, you will often wonder “is this really the best approach? I just feel like I’m opening old wounds with a seam ripper” and essentially, that is what you’re doing. The ideology behind shadow work is that there are two parts of you, the person you exist as and a dark figure that is composed of all the limitations you and other people put on yourselves, buried angers and fears, enemies and jilted lovers, all the parts of you that either you or other people decided couldn’t be a part of you anymore. The root of your fears lie in this person and to overcome them you have to slowly drag that body back into your own until you are a single being again. You will cry, you will spend a lot of time staring at yourself dark eyed in the mirror but I promise you that it is the essential beginning of manifestation. 

Once you clear out a lot of those blockages and really hold the problem between your fingers you will start to be given the answers to overcoming them. It’s like when you’re untangling a knot. When you try to move your fingers through it all you can see is how big, and daunting, and impossible it is to get loose but when you spend time slowly working through it you’ll realize the heart of it is this tiny, fragile thing that you snip apart with a finger. Manifestation does work, and you can use it to a degree during this process but it’ll be more focused on “I’m manifesting that I am able to find the root of this issue. I’m manifesting that I’ll be able to dedicate myself to consistent journaling. I’m manifesting that I have an open mind and heart to look at the more unsavory and dark parts of myself that I am actively avoiding. I am manifesting an honest approach to myself.” 

Unlike manifesting physical commodities there is no easy way to overcome yourself without honest, frank understanding of yourself. In the beginning of my journey I tried to manifest the removal of the hurt/pain in myself around a certain situation and it never worked. I kept on asking and pleading with the universe to take that pain away from me but it only lessened when I actually figured out what it looked like underneath the bruises. It was gory, it was disquieting, but it was the only thing that worked. 

I feel like that’s a really long answer to the question but I do believe in sharing as much as possible on any given topic so that all bases are covered. I think that is my general advice for manifesting too: shadow work before reward and on a more practical level there are two general rules for manifesting. 

1. when you manifest something you must do your best to forget it. this is why a lot of “love” manifestation doesn’t work because if you’re obsessed with having something, you haven’t let go of it enough for the universe to take care of it. this can be difficult to do if you’re someone that struggles with letting go of things/obsessing over something but you must push it to the back of your mind. (symbolically some people like to write their manifestations on paper/bay leaves and burn them, write them on paper and lock them away, or manifest and then meditate to clear the mind.) 

2. what you want will often come when you no longer want it. this is a cruel twist of fate - I have always received things the moment I let go of the need to have them. this is true in relationships, material objects, jobs, pretty much anything. it goes really hand in hand with the “letting go” mentality. you have to accept your reality as enough before more is added to it. this is difficult, sometimes it happens without you even trying but the tighter you hold onto something being the answer to your problems/dreams the less likely it will come into your reality.

hope this helps! feel free to ask for more clarification/update me on your progress. self development is a difficult journey but it is absolutely worth the blood, sweat, and tears. 

[5sosbitchfest]

Alrighty, Nonsters.  We currently have 290 Asks in our box!  As much as we might try, I know there is NO WAY we’re going to be able to get through all of them.  Everything exploded this weekend when MessyGate went down!   I don’t want to ignore any asks just because I already answered a similar one.  So, I’ve tried to gather as many similar Asks as possible to let your your voices be heard.  Y’all are definitely NOT alone in your feelings.  Get ready for a lot of opinions on Messy’s Twitter Drama.  

Also, if you sent in an Ask and we haven’t answered it yet, please feel free to resubmit it!  I do try to scroll through all of them but it is a daunting task and personal stuff and work make it difficult for me to get through everything in a timely manner!

********************************

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I’m really disappointed in Luke and this band in general, the way they deal with things. “honest policy” with messy? So he knew all of this and it was okay? Or he confronted her on this and he is okay with what she has done? I’m not sure this whole thing would be a deal breaker for me, but it certainly would make me real mad at my SO and some whiny excuses wouldn’t be enough to make things alright. Radio silence would’ve been much better than that story he posted, made himself look like a fool.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: These girls will sooner or later become their downfall if their management or them does not realise they should rely on other things than bringing relationship up front to sell their music. I find it extremely bad that they are behaving as if nothing happened, I hope there will be changes once touring will be possible again and we won’t see these girls tagging along everywhere or being brought up in interviews all the time but somehow I’m not counting too much on that.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I wonder if Luke knows everything that Messy got exposed for or just the parts Messy wanted to show him. Bc Luke said in his Story that he wasn't online lately so maybe he wasn't on Twitter too and Messy just showed him the parts that make her look good and he still doesn't know that she spoke bad about Ashton or how she stalked the fans also after she knew that they didn't hack his email adress cause he wasn't on Twitter so he couldn't see the screenshots.🤷‍♀️

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm just waiting for the day one of them date someone who isn't a part of their circle. tired of them passing around the same toxic girls.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: These girls are just digging a whole for these guys and they want be able to get out of it soon

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: It was a chicken move for Sierra to do it as a reply and no one has talked on twitter that she deleted it because they probably think her deleting it is saying it wasn’t true

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Am I the only one who thinks that guys really only heavily interact with us when they want to promote something or say something about the music? I do understand they have lives so being on Twitter isn't number one priority and with all the drama that surrounds this fandom its very easy to not want to be online a lot, I just can't help but feel that way

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm talking about this messy situation (no pun intended) with my friend and she said to me that Messy should consider changing her career if she can't handle that not all people are going to like her. (that ofc doesn't include any form of harassment bc that's not cool)

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I really don't know how to feel about the Luke situation. At first I was upset and disappointed of Luke but now I almost pity him bc real or not either the management would want Luke to defend her or Messy. And I think Luke isn't the kind of person who would stand up against the management or Messy (even though it would probably be better for him if he would). And most people don't realise when they're in a toxic relationship so I can't really blame him. I just hope this ends asap.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I literally was so angry and frustrated with Luke and this whole situation yesterday that I couldn’t even look at him on my home screen, I had to change it. It’s really a disappointing thing to witness. Whether management put him up to this or he genuinely believes this toxicity is okay, I’m just very grumpy with him at the moment. He deserves better and WE (the fans) deserve better.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I think Luke really needs to be in a relationship with sb who either isn't famous and doesn't want to be or with someone who is famous bc they have a successful career too and who doesn't need Like to be famous.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I’ve only seen a few accounts on Twitter who are attacking Messy and Crusty to the core and exposing every bad thing they’ve done with receipts for the sossies defending them! I’m happy that karma is finally getting to those con artist who think they can get away with anything

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: that recent lierra picture is photoshoped lmao. if you look at Sierra's hand you can see color coming off from it and her arm looks hella weird.her forehead looks hella weird and look couldn't have taken the picture because I doubt that he could stretch his arm that far and make a perfect picture. also we haven't even seen Sierra's face so I still don't believe they're together

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: The Lemon pic was like a punch in the face (even though Petunia and Luke are looking cute there). But I've been asking myself lately if Luke has seen the whole drama going around on Twitter or just the posts Messy wanted him to know so the ones who make her look like the victim (and not the ones where she insulted Ashton or she made it clear that she stalked his fans). Cause Luke said he hasn't been online lately.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I mean we dont know how much of the story he truly is aware of and how much s changed to fit her narrative and get L to feel bad for her. Plus he was under pressure from management to do damage control and not standing up for his gf is a very bad look for outsiders who dont understand why she's at fault. It was a pretty neutral statement and he was obviously told to make the post so I dont blame him and just blame her more for putting him in the situation in the 1st place

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I wonder how much toxicity happens behind the scenes, we know S is very manipulative and L is very much a people pleaser so.. and with how much they have to sell their "love" and "happiness" in the relationship. Minipulation is a powerful thing and it could explain why hes out of touch with reality, especially lately since he's isolated with her and doesnt have the voices of the band to raise any concerns and he's been getting skinny again and seems very "meh" rather than happy, idk

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I feel so disconnected with this fandom rn. I feel like no one is streaming CALM and that makes me sad bc it's such an amazing album. The boys aren't even online anymore, everyone is mad at each other and now Luke comes up with this shit... tbh I wish I would wake up tomorrow and see him tweeting something like yeah I'm sorry about my ig story I still love y'all lmao

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Wait wait wait wait ive been gone from the fandom for a little while now and what the fuck is going on with Luke and S? What did S do that she made a fake ass apology for?? I’m so lost please help me! 😂

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm seeing a lot of my mutuals unstanning and I'm just so mad bc Sierra started this drama and got Luke into it and I'm sad that people are leaving bc of this, it's just too much toxicity and it shouldn't affect the band and their connection with the fans but with Luke saying this he makes it seem like he supports the ugly things she does

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I am a Luke stan and I've always loved him bc he has inspired me so much through the years but when he does this things it's like...damn. I feel like he's invalidating the fans' feelings by being like "if you don't like my girlfriend, ur fake" like he has never noticed me on Twitter or anything but my biggest fear is to be blocked by him or just ignored bc I don't like her (although I never expressed it publicly) n yeah anyways :// It feels weird

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Going back and re-reading the DM’s messy literally confirms that she accesses Luke’s account by saying “we couldn’t get in” or some shit like that

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I hate being a luke stan, sometimes it just seems like he doesn't care? he always puts these toxic gfs before the ones who adore him and pay his bills. might just move into Cashton's lane. unproblematic kings.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: He literally posted a picture of him cuddling her and petunia within the hour

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: The saddest part of this situation is it’s like a repeat of Arzaylea. Luke has no idea what a respectful, mature relationship is. We saw it with Arz and were seeing it again it’s just a little bit different. He stays being controlled and manipulated by toxic partners. I really think homeboy needs to be single for a WHILE and focus on himself. He needs to unlearn the things his past and current relationships have taught him about love because if I know anything, it’s that this ain’t real love.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Is it bad that I just want the larzaylea drama back?? Like everyone could at least agree on their feelings then...

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Just checked messy’s insta and of course, everyone that still supports her filled her tagged with just the single picture

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I feel like the reason Sierra is getting away with what she’s done is because she isn’t that known. Like yeah she’s associated with 5sos, but they’re also like not that big which is probably why it’s getting swept under the rug. I’ve only seen the 5SOS fandom calling her out for her actions. If this had happened with a well known celebrity, they probably would’ve been dragged and been trending on Twitter. I might be wrong but I feel like this is what’s happening which is just unfair.

[rocket-remmy]

Side Effects May Include|| Remmy and Skylar

White Crest was an interesting town. It was small, smaller than the town Remmy had grown up in, though not by much. Besides, they visited Rock Spings a lot when Remmy was a kid (it was their dad’s favorite hunting spot), and that place was like population zero, aside from the guy that worked at the hunting shop. Probably. He was a creepy dude, and Remmy didn’t care much for him or hunting. Luckily their dad never made them go with him hunting. Remmy got to stay home and take the lamps or the microwave apart and put them all back together before their dad got back. It was like a little game. A way to pass time. But there were no cabins in White Crest that Remmy could go to and take things apart, and there were no bad memories yet. So that was like, one White Crest, zero for Rock Springs. 

White Crest felt fuller, too, somehow. It had a smaller population, but more people out doing things. It actually had that small town feeling, where it felt like everyone knew everyone else, and Remmy found themself eager to actually worm their way into that scene. To know people. They already knew the butcher on a first name basis. They bought a lot of raw meat and cow brain, even though they’d only been here a month. It was easy to tell the guy it was for Moose, but in reality, it was for Remmy. Weirdly, ever since Remmy got back from Afghanistan, they’d been craving raw, juicy meat. And brain. It was probably just a side effect of the medication, the nurse at the halfway house had said. And it would probably go away. Probably. But it hadn’t yet, so here Remmy was, back at the Butcher’s, getting their pound of raw cow brain from Al.

The bell chimed as Remmy walked out and they felt a pang in their stomach. And, god, it smelled so good. Just one bite. Just one little bite to tide them over till they got home...Reaching into the bag, they undid the container, slipping into the alley-- couldn’t be too public about it-- and plucked out a piece, taking a big bite. Oh, the satisfaction. Remmy smiled happily.

Skylar wasn’t going to deny it, moving from Seattle clear across the country had some perks. The change of scenery was great, the much lessened amount of rain was also a big bonus, and the small town nature of White Crest was cute. And she liked her job a lot. Yep, that was a big plus. But, one of the major downsides? Having to convince the local butcher that ehhhh, ten pounds of pork loin really isn’t that weird of a weekly request. As easy it would be to just hit up one of the big supermarket chains and load up a cart full of meat without question, Skylar had developed a liking for the local butcher’s stock. Oh well, he would learn eventually.

After paying for her meat, Skylar thumbed through her phone and enabled Bluetooth, syncing up with her hearing aids. Tapping on her favorite playlist, the pounding bass rumbled in her ears as she slipped her phone back in her pocket. She gathered up her groceries from where she’d set them down before heading out, giving a polite wave to the butcher as she left the shop. This pork was going to taste amazing with some adobo spices, cooked with garlic and onions-- she’d pick off those bits, of course. But she was looking forward to dinner now.

As Skylar rounded the corner, she glanced over her shoulder at the alleyway next to the butcher shop and froze. Her music continued to pound in her ears as she stared, not entirely certain what she was seeing. Uhhhhhh. “Are you… okay?” She asked, not entirely certain what to make of the person, fingers covered in what looked like blood, eating something that looked an awful lot like raw meat straight from the package. Skylar stuck her hand in her pockets, turning her music off so she could get a good look at what the fuck was happening in front of her. “That’s raw meat, what the hell are you doing?”

Remmy froze when someone’s voice drifted around them. They fumbled for a minute, looked around, then stopped when they spotted someone standing in the opening of the alleyway staring at them. “Uh…” they glanced around, put the bits back into the bag and wiped their fingers across their shirt smearing blood on it. “Shit.” Looked back at the other person. Noticed the hearing aids in her ears and paused. “Oh, sorry. I was just having a snack, you know?” they signed. Pointed to the bag. “It’s not that weird…” Gave a shrug. Their stomach grumbled a little as their eyes dropped to the bag the other person was holding. “No weirder than buying a huge chunk of meat.” Because that really was a huge chunk. If they weren’t feeding like twenty people, that thing was gonna go to waste. There’s no way one person could eat that all in a few days. 

The use of sign, which normally would be a big relief to her, did nothing to ease Skylar’s rising confusion and concern. In fact, it kinda made things worse, because now she knew she had full license to freak out without attracting any attention. She checked over her shoulder for anyone nearby before walking further into the alleyway. Gesturing emphatically, she signed, “What the fuck? No, no, that’s super weird. Do you know how many diseases and parasites you can get from eating raw… is that an organ? Are you eating raw animal organs?” An expression of disgust and shock was clearly displayed across her face as she stared at the person she’d literally caught red-handed. But, when they pointed out her own purchases, her face burned bright red. It wasn’t weird! Flustered, she signed rapidly, “That’s completely different! This is a totally normal amount of meat to buy and, besides, I’m not the one just chewing on a porkchop in a back alley! Forget the raw meat, do you know how many germs are in an alley,” She paused, grimacing to add emphasis to her next signs, “Behind a butcher shop? 

Remmy’s brow furrowed. They didn’t like confrontation, they’d always had a hard time standing up for themselves as a kid, but things had changed quite a bit once they’d entered the military. They huffed, setting the bag down after tying it closed, and signed, “Why do you care? You don’t even know me! I’ve had much worse, anyway. And that’s a normal amount of meat to buy if you’re feeding like twenty people at once!” Which, Remmy then realized, could be what they’re doing, but it still was a little weird. And Remmy was caught off guard, by someone yelling-- well, yell signing-- at them in an alley! All they wanted to do was enjoy a good bite and go home. Moose whined next to them. Remmy’d almost forgotten Moose was with them, and while they’d normally leave him behind for a quick errand down the street, they were still new to town, and leaving without him right now had seemed daunting. “Besides, it was just one little bite. It’s not like I’m back here having a whole meal.”

Skylar gaped at the other person, still not sure what to make of the whole situation. “You’ve had worse? What, are you going around eating roadkill or something? That looks like a piece of,” Skylar squinted, trying to make out the specifics of just what it was they were holding, “I don’t know. I can’t see it from here. But, it’s raw! I’m not just going to stand by and let someone eat raw meat, you’re going to get super sick.” Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar ignored the comment about the amount of meat she’d purchased. This wasn’t about her, it was about the fact that someone was out here chowing down in the alley. But, as she moved to sign again, Skylar was suddenly aware of the dog right next to them. A very large dog. She wasn’t afraid of dogs, not really, but she didn’t have much experience around them either. Swallowing nervously, she forced herself to focus on the person again, “And you’re planning on eating… whatever that is?” 

Remmy frowned. “That’s not the point. It doesn’t matter,” they signed. They were beginning to feel that tingle in their stomach, that anxiousness gripping them from the inside. “It’s not-- that’s none of your business,” they blurted. They just wanted to go home and now some weird girl was yelling at them in an alley. A small alley. A narrow alley. Remmy looked around, picked up their bag, grabbed Moose’s leash, grip tightening. Moose whined. “Yeah? So what if I am? I’ve been eating this stuff for a while now. It’s just a side effect of all the meds I’m on. The doctor said so. They said it was fine,” they managed to sign after attaching Moose’s lead back to their belt. “So...you don’t need to worry anymore.” Nodding, as if to punctuate their statement.

Shifting the heavy bag of meat in her arms so she could sign more effectively, Skylar frowned at the person in the alley. “Maybe it isn’t my business, but,” She signed pointedly before gesturing to the nasty container of organ meat, “I’d seriously consider checking with your doctor about the specifics. I can understand wanting to eat like… liver or something like that. But, going after it all Tokyo Ghoul style? That doesn’t seem kosher.” She signed with a shrug. It didn’t seem like there was anything she could say to convince this person that what they were doing was really fricking weird. “I hope your doctor at least puts you on some different medication.” Skylar gestured, her face turning a bit grim at the thought of medicine. Back before her parents had come clean about her, she’d been on all sorts of medicine to manage her symptoms. But, they’d never had any side effects like a desire to eat raw meat.

Remmy was ready to fire back, but something stopped them. That weird anxious feeling was still rolling around inside their chest, but the anger was extinguished. “Tokyo-- what? That doesn’t…” Scratched their head. Blinked, trying to parse out what had just been said to them, but there were so many other things running through their head. “What’s...no, it’s-- it’s just cow brain,” they said, their own mind working too hard for them to remember to sign, words coming out instead. “It’s not that weird to eat. Al says it’s a delicacy in some places…” Confused, Remmy looked down at their bag. “Why would I need different medication?”

The switch over to speaking made sense, though Skylar didn’t particularly want to raise her voice if she was talking about something this strange. It was a small town, people would probably have questions if they saw her trying to convince some random person not to eat raw meat. “It’s cow brain?” She signed, making a revolted expression with her face. “That’s definitely weird to eat! And even if it is a delicacy, I’m pretty sure it needs to be cooked.” Shrugging, Skylar rubbed the back of her neck before signing again. “Because those aren’t normal side effects? I don’t know what kind of medicine you’re on and I don’t need to know. But, I’m pretty sure that there aren’t any drugs that make you want to eat raw cow parts.” Skylar let out a laugh and shook her head before speaking up, “Except for maybe bath salts. But you don’t seem like you’re going to try and eat my face.” 

Remmy blinked again. “You can cook brain?” They weren’t exactly the brightest bulb in the factory. Remmy had skated by in classes with C’s and the occasional D, another reason joining the army had seemed like such a palatable option. It was really their only option. No college was going to accept a below average student. Remmy scratched their head. “No, I...definitely don’t wanna eat your face off. I don’t uh...I don’t know a lot about medications? The VA said they were some of the better medications out there. They do cost a lot...that means they gotta be good, right?”

“I mean, I haven’t cooked brain myself, but I think you can. If people can eat liver and onions, I think you could probably do the same with a brain.” Skylar nodded, mentally wondering how she had gotten into a discussion on cooking in a sketchy back alley with a sketchier person and their dog. Letting out a sigh of relief, she sighed. “Neat, thanks.” Frowning as she read the other person’s lips, Skylar tilted her head. “VA… Oh, I’m so sorry--!” She said, wincing. Oh God. She’d just yelled at a veteran and their service dog. Christ, she felt like such a jerk now. “I had no idea, erm, I just, um… I’m not an expert or anything on medicine, so I can’t say anything there. It’s totally your choice on if you… want to eat… raw cow brains.” Skylar said, still not sure what to make of the words coming from her mouth, “But, maybe you should talk to a doctor about it? Mhm. I don’t know. I’m really sorry again.”

Remmy’s head titled a little. The girl was apologizing now. That was a weird turn of events. She was even saying Remmy was totally free to eat raw brain if that’s what they wanted. A total 360 of the beginning of the conversation. They shrugged. “Oh, no…” they signed, “it’s totally fine. I guess it uh...is kinda weird? I didn’t really think about it all that much.” They looked back over at Skylar. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. Sorry I made you freak out?” They weren’t sure if that was really their fault, but, again, Remmy didn’t like starting confrontation, or upsetting people. Moose whined a little. “Oh! Yeah, uh-- this is Moose. My service dog. He’s a sweetheart. I share my pickings with him.” They nodded to the bag the girl was holding. “What about you? Are you sharing with anyone?” A pause. “Oh and I’m Remmy by the way. We uh...we don’t have to shake hands.”

Waving her hands awkwardly, Skylar shook her head. She’d really made a mess of things, hadn’t she? She should have just minded her own business and let them go about… eating raw-- nope, no, she still wasn’t okay with it. But, she could keep it to herself. “No, no, it’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have erm, barged in on you.” She said, signing as she spoke. Glancing at the dog, Skylar offered a tight lipped smile. Even if the dog was a sweetheart, she still was a little anxious around it. “Mmm, cute. He’s very fluffy.” When they pointed out her bag of meat, Skylar grimaced and squinted as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation. “Erm. Yes. Just, you know, stocking up.” She said. “Remmy?” Skye asked, fingerspelling as she did so. “Nice to meet you. I’m Skylar.” She said, offering her sign name as well. It was a pretty simple one, just the sign for “sky” done with an S instead of an open hand. 

“Oh, cool,” Remmy signed, “stocking up. I wish I had a big enough fridge to do that. Or a freezer. My place is kinda ...sparsely equipped.” They shrugged again, not noticing the girl’s timid reaction to Moose. But Moose stayed put, because the situation was calm, and his wasn’t needed at the moment. Sometimes Remmy wondered what he thought about while idling, but that was the big question that everyone wanted to know-- what were their pets thinking? “Yes, Remmy,” they spelled out, confirming. “Skylar? Nice to meet you. “Sorry it’s uh...in an alley. Should we move? Go somewhere else? Unless you’re busy. This did kinda interrupt your day. Sorry, I’m pretty new in town. Haven’t met a lot of people yet. And definitely no one else who speaks fluent ASL. Though I’m no expert either.”

“Ummmm…” Skylar paused, not entirely sure if she wanted to follow this random person she’d met in a back alley behind the butcher shop. As much as she wanted to get the word out about ASL and do her best to improve awareness in White Crest… She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she tried to figure out whether or not she wanted to hang out with them. Oh hell. Surely things couldn’t get worse than their initial meeting. “I’m new in town too. Sort of. I’ve lived here for about… five or six months?” She said. “But, um, yes. We can chat in,” Skylar paused and gestured at the alley around them, “Not a back alley.” She said before walking back out to the sidewalk, making sure to give Remmy and Moose a wide berth. “There are quite a few people who sign, but I’m not surprised you haven’t met any of them.” She said, signing as she spoke.

Remmy didn’t take notice to the distance Skylar kept between them. The initial strangeness of their meeting had already slid from their mind. They were never the most socially observant, but show them a complicated system of wires and they could figure out what goes where in a second. Moose walked obediently by their side as they tugged on his lead, heading back out to the sidewalk and the public, stuffing their weird purchase farther into the bag so no one else would notice. “Cool,” they signed, “I’ve only been here a month. So...very new. My only friend is the other security guard that works night shifts, Gus. He’s old, though, and always smells like pine needles.” 

“Oh, you’re a security guard? That’s pretty neat. I’d probably be terrible at something like that.” Skylar signed as they walked through town together. She shifted her bag slightly, slinging it over her shoulder so she could sign more clearly. Even though she tried to stay in the conversation, she couldn’t help but glance at Remmy’s bag, very aware of their odd purchases. “Um, how are you liking White Crest? I’m from Seattle originally, so it was a big difference.” She signed, her eyes widening to express just how much of a change it had been.

“Yeah, just part time. The halfway house I was in helped me get the job,” Remmy signed. “Since I was injured in combat, they helped place me in a job and rehabilitate me.” Walking and signing was always hard for Remmy, having to focus on looking at a person while also focusing on not running into things or other people. They had to stop or slow down every time they started signing again, talking along with the motions, hoping Skylar could read their lips too. “It’s okay. I grew up in Wyoming, so from that it’s a stark change, but I came here from Afghanistan, which was the real shock. I like how small it is here. It reminds me of home.” A pause. “What uh-- what about you?”

“Mm.” Skylar hummed in response, not really sure what else she could say to the other person. It sounded like they had been through some… real shit. Like, stuff that she couldn’t even imagine. Just the idea of being involved in the military seemed so foreign to her. Not that she’d ever had the interest in it; she didn’t think the army had much of an interest in sign language. “Makes sense.” She signed before shrugging, “Like I said, it’s been a big change. But, I like the town for the most part. I work for the school and the administration has been really good to me so far. And the people I’ve met are nice. I just wish they had more bookstores.” She sighed wistfully. That was one of the best parts of living in a big city-- there were no shortage of bookstores and comic shops. Tower wasn’t bad, but she just wished they weren’t combined with a music store too.

“You work for the school?” Remmy repeated. “That’s cool! What do you do there?” They paused again, trying to remember the sign, their face contorting a bit. “I want to find something more….” scratched their head, “fulfilling.” They finally said out loud. “I think I’d like to be an officer someday, but they’re pretty strict on things disability wise…” They started walking again, catching pace with Skylar. “You like to read, then? I haven’t found any bookstores here yet. Sorry, that’s probably annoying to deal with. Maybe there’s one down on Amity?”

Nodding, Skylar smiled. “Yeah. I work as a sign language interpreter. I’m hard of hearing but,” She pointed to her bright blue hearing aids, “with these I can hear just as well as anyone else, with a few little quirks. So, I work with kids who need a little extra help.” She explained. Her job wasn’t exactly one that people thought about, but that didn’t make it any less important. “Like a police officer? I’m sure you could probably petition for a position or something? I mean, if you have the skills and abilities, I don’t really get why they wouldn’t let you in. But, I’m biased.” She signed with another shrug. At the mention of bookstores, Skylar nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. I like reading a lot. There’s an interesting one called The Archive, but it’s a little creepy. I don’t know what it is about the place, it’s just kinda old and weird?” She signed, making a face as she did so.

Remmy perked up a bit. “Oh, that’s so cool!” They motioned to the device on their own ear. “I’ve got one, too. I’m just deaf on the one side, though. Places that have a lot of noise can get rough though,” they said. “I end up turning mine off a lot.” A shrug. Sometimes the silence felt nicer than hearing everything, all the time. Remmy looked back over at Skylar, noticing them brighten at the mention of books again. Remmy couldn’t help but smile. “Creepy? How so?” A pause. “Oh, wait, you just said you didn’t...That’s weird. Maybe it’s just cause it’s old? I went into an old like antique shop once down on Amity and it wigged me out real bad. All those kinds of places do, you know?” Another shrug, more nonchalant this time. Remmy smiled again. They couldn’t help but feel happy. They were talking to someone. And possibly making a friend. They weren’t sure, but the warm feeling in their chest told them that right now, they were completely safe. And that was...hard to come by these days. “Maybe I could go with you to the bookstore sometime. It might be less creepy with someone with you. Plus, I need to pick up a book. Anna Karina? Someone online told me to read it.”

Eyes widening, Skylar blinked in surprise. “I didn’t see that, I’m sorry!” She signed, face turning burning hotly with embarrassment. She should have picked up on that sooner. How had she missed that? “I can relate to that, though. I don’t wear mine when I’m at home. They just get uncomfortable sometimes.” She watched as Remmy continued to sign, but took note of the smile. The fact that they were smiling was good; hopefully they had forgotten about her being such a jerk to them in the alley way. Even if they were acting super wei-- Nope. No, she wasn’t going to call Remmy weird. People could do what they liked, and if that was… eating… raw cow brain, so be it. Pulling a face at the idea of going around an antique shop, Skylar signed back, “I can only imagine. Antiques are definitely creepy.” Skylar’s fingers paused their usual fidgeting at Remmy’s offer. “Are you sure? You don’t need to, it’s probably nothing. But, I wouldn’t mind the company at all. And, I could help you find that book.” She signed, expression hopeful. Being able to sign with someone who was near her level was a breath of fresh air and she really wanted to keep Remmy around. If they wanted to be there, of course.

“No, yeah, totally!” Remmy immediately signed back. “I’d love to!” They stopped, a little embarrassed of their sudden response, scratching the back of their head. “Sorry. I don’t wanna seem desperate. I haven’t met a lot of people since moving here yet. It’s been kinda lonely. Even with Moose.” They gave him a little pat, and Moose sniffed the air a second before returning to his on duty posture. “He’s my service dog, so it’s nice having him around, but I miss living in a community. I mean...this place is nice, it’s even a small town, but I just don’t know anyone yet.” And it was a strange feeling, Remmy noted, that they could be so alone. For the past five years their best friends had been the privates training alongside them to become EOD members. And then they’d all been together on that plane to Afghanistan. And they’d all been together during that first raid and every raid after. And now they were...Moose licked their hand and Remmy blinked, noticing a new wetness to their eyes. Trying to hide it, they smiled over at Skylar again. “I work nights, so I can go to the bookstore anytime, just let me know when you wanna go.”

Skylar watched intently as Remmy signed quickly and then explained why they had reacted like that. Her heart went out to them, honestly, it did. She could relate to them in some small way. Maybe not with their broader experiences, but she knew what it was like to move to White Crest from someplace totally different and not have anyone you knew. She’d lucked out with her roommate, but if she hadn’t… “No, don’t worry. Trust me, the feeling is mutual. It’s nice to meet someone who gets sign and like,” She gestured to her hearing aids one more, “Gets it? You know?” Nodding, Skylar bit her lip before holding her hand up for Remmy to wait. She looked up the street before jogging down the sidewalk towards one of the fliers for sign lessons that she’d posted. Tearing off one of the untouched tabs, she hurried back towards Remmy and Moose and held out the scrap of paper. “I’m done with work when the high school gets out, so I’m free most days after 3. Sometimes I have meetings, but if you wanted to text me, you can.” She said with a tentative smile.

“I get that,” Remmy signed back, “I definitely get that.” They paused when Skylar held up her hand, curious for a moment, watching her job over to a sign board and pull off a slip of paper. Still confused, they watched as Skylar came jogging back, and it was only when Skylar was holding out the slip of paper to them that they realized what it was-- her number. Remmy took the slip and smiled. “Thanks. Sorry, I don’t have one to give back, but I promise I’ll let you know it’s me when I text.” It was a simple gesture, but Remmy always found that the simple or small gestures were the ones that really added up after time. They pocketed the slip and patted it, as if making sure it really was there and that this was real. “I’ll uh-- I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. You should probably get that meat in the fridge before it goes bad.”

“No problem!” She said with a bright grin, suddenly quite happy at the prospect of having someone who she could sign with. Maybe even a friend? Not that Skylar didn’t like her coworkers, but they weren’t exactly her friends. And Remmy seemed like good people, even if their dog kind of squicked her out. “Ah, yeah,” She glanced at the bag on her shoulder with a slight grimace. Skylar began to head down the street in the direction of her apartment, walking backwards as she signed. “It was nice meeting you, Remmy. And you too, Moose.” She signed before turning around. They might have met under the weirdest circumstances, but she was looking forward to having a new friend.

[soybeantree]

left for dead

pairing: jungkook x reader genre/warning:  soft angst/soft fluff. post-apocalyptic. word count: 1.7k description: he was the one who wasn’t suppose to matter. the one who you weren’t suppose to let get to you. the one that would be wiped away.  a/n: this is part 2 of a series based on the outfits of bts’ ‘boy with luv’ dance practice. 🤷 🤷 🤷

The cute one. That’s how they described your mark. The battalion is full of scarred, hard faced officers who look more ready to kill you than protect you. The idea that one of them could be cute was laughable. Then you saw him.

Jeon Jungkook is more than cute. He has a charm that would send heart’s fluttering with the raise of a brow and the quirk of a lip. He reminds you of the princes from the pre-war fairy tales your father told you. Before you could doubt his place in the battalion though, you saw him in action. He was quick and efficient, a dancer with a blade. With that skill and his charm, he would rise soon. If or rather when he did, they would send him after the free people. He would wipe them out, so you had to take him out. Yet, whenever an opportunity presented itself, you found a reason to postpone. You didn’t have a clean shot. He would hear you coming. The casualties would be too high. The true reason was you had fallen for him. You had fallen for his cute face and charming smile. More than those though, you had fallen for the way he would play soccer with the neighborhood kids after his shift, and the way he would bring rations to the grandma who lived next door to him. He had a kind heart. He wouldn’t come after the free people. He couldn’t kill people whose only crime was wanting to live in peace. Reality beat the naivety out of you. They grounded you when it became apparent that you were incapable of completing your mission. You were home when the warning came. An attack was imminent. Get to safety. Your family comes first. They are on their way when you hear the first screams. Explosions follow. You run back to the village, knives at the ready. Fire illuminates the night, bathing everything in its red glow. The battalion marches through, entering homes and dragging the innocent onto the streets for execution. A knife flies from your hand and into the executioner’s neck. His partner whirls to face you and a knife sprouts from his throat. “Go!” you shout at the innocent as you retrieve your daggers. They flee, and you search for your next target. That’s when you see him. Even with his helmet on, you know it’s him. The way he moves is as familiar as his face. Smoke claws at your eyes and throat. You cough as tears sting your eyes. The red arm band of a captain is bright on his arm as he directs his men to slaughter your people. Your knives burn in your hands as a scream crawls up your throat. You release it as you charge towards him. A sharp sting brings you to your knees and you glance to your thigh where blood pools around a blade. Your eyes shift to your assailant who stalks towards you. A blade flies from your hand as you return the favor.

The muscles in your leg scream as you force yourself up. Jungkook is still standing there. He’s close enough now. You have a clean shot. You can correct your mistake. Shifting the dagger in your right hand, you swing your arm back. A vice squeezes your hand and you howl as your dagger falls from your hand. The vice forces your arm behind your back. You whirl bones cracking as you land a kick to the vice’s side. He doesn’t flinch. Your hand goes numb in his grip as he laughs, tugging you to his chest. Your quick to pull the knife from your thigh and bury it in his throat. Blood sprays out as he releases you and collapses. You stand over him, your right arm hanging limp at your side. Your left hand clutches the blood stained knife. You turn, and he’s standing there. His eyes soften as they examine your arm and thigh. Your eyes harden. You swing your left arm. But, he’s quicker. Pain bursts through your head before darkness settles over you.

Pain wakens you, in your leg, your arm, but mainly in your head. You open your eyes to bright lights and searing pain. A hiss slips out as you squeezes your eyes shut. A shadow settles over your eyes, and you peek one open to find a hand hovering over you. Your other eye opens, and you tilt your head to see the hand’s face. Fury shoots through you, and you lunge forward. Straps lock your hands in place as you thrash on the bed. Jungkook calls for someone. You fall limp as your commander comes into view. Your mouth opens and closes as you glance between him and Jungkook. “What’s going on? Why is this butcher here?” You seethe, jerking against your bindings. “And why the hell am I tied up?” “At ease, y/n. You’re restrained for the safety of others. If you keep it up, you’ll pop your arm back out of socket.” You settle, but your eyes still burn. Your commander continues. “Jungkook is not the enemy.” “Like hell he isn’t!” “I said at ease!” He bellows. “If it wasn’t for his warning, our casualties would be much higher. He’s a hero of the Free People.” “You gave us the warning,” Jungkook nods. “But you’re one of them. You wanted me to kill him.” You address your commander. “And you wanted us to spare him. Your compassion was well founded. Now rest. We need you better. Our fights not over.” He walks off, leaving you and Jungkook alone.

The silence stretches between you until you say, “You hit me.” “You were trying to kill me. I had to stop you before you killed me or someone killed you.” His eyes rest on your injuries, and you wish your hands were free so you could cover them with the blanket you knocked off during your struggling. He pulls the blanket over you and sits down beside your bed.

“Can you undo the restraints?” “No. The doctor was very firm that they stay on until she says.” He cracks a smile. You feel your lips curling up and immediately clear your throat. “I’m sorry for trying to kill you.” “It’s okay. I understand. I’m sorry for hitting you so hard.” He reaches out to check the bandage but stops. His fingers curl inward as he rests his hand on his knee. “Yeah, you didn’t have to hit so hard. I mean you did but…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to the blanket. “Why did you do it?” “Hit you? I-” “No, why did you help us?” You meet his eyes. They’re warm and soft. He offers a simple smile. “For the past few weeks, I thought someone was following me.” Heat rises in your cheeks, but you force your expression to remain neutral. The right corner of his mouth rises, and you wish you could smack him. “They were good though. I couldn’t find any evidence until-” He pauses, his smirk rising. “Until.” You prompt. “Until I couldn’t bring rations to the grandma next door. My sergeant kept me back for additional drills due to insubordination.” You remember that day. Jungkook had refused to punish a child who had stolen from a food vendor. The child was nothing but bones. His clothes were holes connected by strings. “I was worried the grandma hadn’t eaten, so I rushed home. But when I got there, she had a whole meal prepared for her and me. When I asked her how she got the food, she said a kind young person had brought it. “I had my evidence, so I laid a trap. I got myself in trouble again but skipped out on punishment. I waited until you dropped off food then followed you.” Your mom had always said your compassion would be your downfall. She had been right but also so, so wrong. “That doesn’t explain why you helped us.” “I didn’t just follow you home that day.” He mumbles. “No?” You smirk. “No, I wanted to know more about you and about the Free People. I learned too much. Then I got promoted.” He pauses. His head drops, his hair hiding his face. He brushes it back, a deep breath shuddering through him. “When they promoted me, they said my primary task would be to eliminate the Free People. I knew I couldn’t do it, so I confronted my tail. I was surprised when it wasn’t you.” “They removed me when they realized I wouldn’t kill you.” He snorts and you laugh, your whole body shaking with the laughter. Your arms tug at the restraints, your laughter dying as it does. Jungkook clears his throat and continues. “I told the tail about the attack and was ready to desert, but your commander said it would be better if I stayed. I guess they’re wanting a spy.” He offers a half smile. The Battalion is unforgiving. The last spy the Free People sent in had his head displayed on a pike. “Are you going back?” He nods. “If I can help, I will.” He glances around, refusing to meet your eyes. “I should go. Any longer, and my absence will become suspicious. Plus, I have lots of reports to write.” He stands, straightening his fatigues. The clothes hang too loose on him. Even though, you’ve seen him and know what he’s capable of, the task seems too daunting. You tug at the restraints and hiss when they refuse to budge. “I’ll be okay. Just worry about getting better. I’ll try to come around when I can.” “Don’t.” The word is sharp. His face falls. “It’s too dangerous. The Battalion’s tails are good too.” The right corner of his mouth rises again. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle a tail. I’ll ask the doctor about your restraints.” “Don’t.” He cocks a brow. “If they come off, you’re not leaving.” A wide grin splits his face. “Is that a promise?” A shiver runs down your spine while a flush spreads across your face. You clear your throat, but refuse to answer. He meets your eyes for a moment, and with a final nod, he’s gone.

[littlegilan]

Hello! Im a junior next year and i have something thats been bothering me. About 10 months ago I moved across the world (from asia to the US). Ive been adjusting okay and i know how to speak english so thats helped me ton. The first 6 months of 10 grade, i didnt have any friends and i found it very difficult to be as open as the people are here. The old school i used to attend was and all girls school and being gay (or some [1/2]

variation of that) was considered normal. I finally found friends here. I accidentally came out to her after a few weeks of knowing her. I asked for this to stay between the both of us. She hasnt done anything homophobic but she kind of gives clues to everyone that i am not straight whenever we are with someone else like me.Its been making me very uncomfortable but i really dont want to talk to her and have the possibility of being all alone again. ??? what do i do 2/2 [im sorry this is anon]

Nonny,

Don’t worry or feel bad about staying on anon, I’ll gladly give advice both on and off anon, I understand how daunting it can be.

When you say “someone else like me”, I am assuming you mean someone else who is gay, so I feel that your friend isn’t being homophobic or intentionally trying to out you, but instead is trying to connect you with other people of the LGBTQIA+ community. 

If this is the case, then I’ve been in that friend’s shoes (two of my friends had come out to me within a few days of each other and were talking about feeling super alone since they didn’t know the other was gay) so I can understand her motivations. 

That being said, her intentions do not negate how her actions have been making you feel, and if it makes you uncomfortable then you should talk to her. I understand that as an international high school student it’s hard to make friends, but if she is making you feel uncomfortable or if she is stressing you out about being outed then you should talk to her. 

If you do decide to talk to her, I recommend doing it in person and somewhere that is non-confrontational. Stress the fact that she may have good intentions or not realize what she is doing, but her actions are causing you discomfort or stress. I’d also stress that she’s neither a bad person nor intentionally hurting you (if that is how you feel), but that her actions are, in reality, hurtful. Take the time to explain why you feel how you do and be sure that nothing is lost in translation (I believe that your English is amazing but miscommunications can happen, even between people speaking the same (native) language). It’ll be a pretty serious talk to don’t just push it off as an “oh by the way” conversation.

If you don’t want to talk to talk to her about this, then that’s okay too. However if I were you I would have a conversation - the anxiety over having the conversation is far worse than the actual conversation. I don’t think that she will take it the wrong way if you approach it correctly, but I understand any concern you have. 

If she does take it the wrong way, though, it is only high school. I know that isn’t necessarily the answer you want to hear, but hear me out. If she is making you uncomfortable consistently enough that it’s a concern for you, the question you have to ask is whether it’s worth it. The best outcome is that she understands your feelings and works to change her actions. The worst is that she doesn’t understand and she begins to distance herself from you. And yes, becoming isolated (again) is suckey, but in today’s time with internet, the “importance of place” is becoming less and less important. You will be able to connect with people outside of your school and physical location who you feel more comfortable with, provided you are safe about your private information. 

I hope this has helped, at least a little bit, nonny. Let me know if I can elaborate more.

P.S. I love that “everyone is a little gay at all-girls schools” is an international thing.

[liveindiatimes]

Nemat Sadat weaves a tale of hope for the LGBTQI+ community - books author interview

https://liveindiatimes.com/nemat-sadat-weaves-a-tale-of-hope-for-the-lgbtqi-community-books-author-interview/

At an age when most kids are joining kindergarten, Nemat Sadat had an epiphany — one to inspire a legacy. The how, when and where didn’t matter, nor did being homosexual. What mattered was a drive to achieve greatness. Last year, he released his first novel, The Carpet Weaver, which was a coming-of-age story about two homosexual boys in war-torn Afghanistan.

Accepting and understanding one’s sexuality can prove to be quite a daunting task, especially coming from somewhat orthodox dogmas, which are not exclusive any particular religion. The inner turmoil and the external conflict are enough to drive anyone to the edge. Sadat resorted to activism and art to cope. “Self-expressing myself as an activist and artist helped me overcome a lifetime of repression. It helped me to confront the demons and purge all the social conditioning I received that condemned and cursed homosexuals to expect nothing but hate and punishment in this life and the hereafter. LGBTQ people are at a higher risk of anxiety, depression and suicide than heterosexual people. It was liberating for me to come out of the closet and share my grief with the world and simultaneously campaign for LGBTQIA+ rights,” he says.

Read: Gender Bender: Why sensitisation must begin in schools to end stigma around the LGBT community

In the 80s, as his motherland became a conflict zone of wars that would later go on to polarize global powers, his mother took him and his siblings to the USA. After almost three decades, he returned to Kabul in 2012 as a professor of political science. It was here that he witnessed first-hand the perils of being homosexual. He mobilized an underground movement to openly campaign for LGBTQIA+ rights. “For me, it’s always been about the legalization of LGBTQIA+ rights in Afghanistan and across the Muslim world, which happens to be the worst places in the world to be gay or transgender person,” he says. Did he ever feel there was a threat to his safety? “When you are fighting to emancipate an entire group of people, in this case, millions of people, who are criminalized and have no legal status, you have to only focus on the vision for the future,” says the author who came out in 2013. He received death threats, was banished by many Afghans and Muslims, and rejected by most of his relatives.

Cut to 2019, and he observes a shift in sensibilities, and is hopeful of the future, too. “I believe the Afghan community is finally opening up to the idea of LGBTQIA+ equality. Young people in Afghanistan are following the same global trend in greater acceptance of homosexuality. I believe it is possible to see same-sex marriage in Afghanistan and in many Muslim-majority countries within our lifetime,” he says.

Read: LGBT+ visibility in film, TV builds acceptance in community

Straddling dual identities across two continents was not easy for him — he finally felt at home in India. “I as a gay, Afghan, American, ex-Muslim, non-native immigrant who doesn’t look like a typical white person will continue to be an outsider in the US. That’s a reality that I have accepted and no longer even try to belong to a society that doesn’t value all people equally. In Afghanistan, I’m persona non grata and persecuted not only for my free speech. My identities—being gay and an ex-Muslim—are considered against Islam. India is the only country that I feel safe and accepted for who I am,” he shares.

The youth, in such a scenario, is also susceptible to substance abuse. He believes it is important to speak up before giving up. “I know without a doubt that I am alive today because I didn’t resort to addiction or suffer in silence. It takes a lot of courage to share your grief with the world. But it’s the surest way to heal and recover from trauma,” he says. It is also important to confide and open up to people you can trust. “My mother has always supported me even though there was a time when she was in deep denial about my homosexuality and wished for me to marry a woman even though she knew I was gay,” says the author who is living at his mother’s house in San Digeo since the pandemic broke.

“For those who are receiving hate and violence know that there are leaders in the LGBTQIA+ community throughout India—that you can always turn for help. It’s important that members of the LGBTQIA+ community who are receiving harassment and threats that they also reach out to law enforcement and report these incidents,” he encourages.

His manuscript for The Carpet Weaver was rejected by 450 literary agents. His pan-India tour was cut short due to lockdowns, but that didn’t break his spirit. He is now using this time to write his second novel, titled Keeping Up With The Hebpburns. “It is a romantic comedy about a gay vegan vagabond set primarily in Washington D.C. during the Trump era, and partly in India,” he signs off.

Interact with Etti Bali @TheBalinian

Follow @htlifeandstyle for more

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[rtrospctve]

untitled 03.

Losing it.

Losing it. Losing it. Losing it. 

How does one describe a feeling that is so overwhelming stormy and dark and chaotic, all at once?

How does once bounce back from the ledge of insanity when there is nothing to grab onto?

How does one put together the good fragments that have been leftover after smashing your soul into smithereens time and time again? 

Where does one even start to put together where it all went wrong? Where it continues to go wrong and wrong and wrong again? Existence is exhausting. I feel like everyday I take one step forward, ten step back. I don’t ever trust a good thing that happens, because something bad always always follows it. I feel so, so isolated from everything, everyone. Slowly but surely, I’ve been left with no one, just as I rightfully deserve. I have no friends, no significant other, and not a single family member I can open myself up to. So here I am, once again, eyes bleary with tears, trying to compose together the whirlwind and pile of massive shit that lives inside my skull. I’m trying to understand my own trauma, for once, instead of trying to decipher the glorious dumpster fires that are other human beings in my life. What is my trauma? What is my problem? What haunts me and keeps me awake? Why, oh why, must I cling to the past? Why, oh fucking why, can I never let go? I’m quite scared to delve into my own mind. Trying to analyze yourself when you’re already an established overthinker is fucking terrifying. Everything is taken to the tenth power. Anxiety drowns you. Fear awaits at the end of the tunnel, waiting to grasp you by the throat and drag you down, deep into the bowels of the Darkness, where you claw and grasp at the nearest exit, hoping to God that this isn’t the return of a very somber past. 

I’m not perfect. I’m definitely, definitely, far from perfect. I have so many flaws, I’d need at least another 10 pairs of hands to count them all. I try to keep everyone around me happy. I do what I can to be the person that can live among society as a functioning thriving individual. But it feels as though in every category of my life, I fall short. My dreams, aspirations, love life, friends, family, my very fucking existence, is mediocre. It’s pathetic. And even though I’ve spent all these years with my eyes set on a degree in Psychology, it’s as though the more I understand the human mind, the more terrified I become of myself, of existence, of the entire universe around me. If I sit in silence long enough, I start to ask myself why I’m not allowed, or allowing myself, to reach greatness. Why I have all these wants and wishes and goals, yet cannot get out of bed or put forward the foot to make them happen, to execute what I see in my head. Is it really a chemical imbalance? Is it laziness? Is it genetically ingrained and I am just DESTINED to be a fucking sad loser? I’m definitely not where I was 4 years ago. I straight up wanted to die. I wanted everything and all this pain to just END. But now... now I just don’t want to exist. Is that different to not wanting to die? What’s the point of anything? What’s the point of a beating heart, of waking up the next morning, of getting up and eating breakfast and going to work and going to school and graduating and getting a career and MAYBE finding a spouse and starting a family and raising a family and buying a house and a car and going on vacations and watching those kids graduate and move out and retiring and sitting on a lake somewhere and then eventually dying? What’s the point of celebrating birthdays and weddings? WHAT. is the point. OF ANYTHING. Why. Are we here? I don’t understand. We’re on a floating rock in space. And nothing, none of what we do, means anything in the grand scheme of things. What IS the grand scheme? This is what happens in my mind. Constantly. Just thinking and rethinking over and over again. It’s fucking terrifying and daunting, and it’s why I’d rather just not exist, as I’d rather not take part in any of it. I’m just... exhausted. I’m tired of putting pieces together and trying to make them work. Maybe it’d all be easier if I wasn’t a mediocre loser, maybe then I wouldn’t find myself questioning everything, but unfortunately, that isn’t how the cards played out. So again, here I am, questioning myself, and why I feel so alone, and why I’m writing into the oblivion, once again, because I have no where to turn to. 

Since the age of 12, I’ve dealt with people walking out of my life, time and time again, with no explanation. Nothing. Just, leaving, just the universe screaming at me to get over it, and little me crying and unable to understand why the people I love can’t stay around. This isn’t something I like to explore very often, but I figure it’s time I sit down and confront this little slice of me. I’m very bad at moving on. At getting over things. At letting go. I tend to overthink, to process and cycle things over and over again in my head. I remember falling in love with my after school program advisor, and crying every day that summer because I missed him. I had never experienced such a traumatic feeling before. It was gut wrenching. It was like someone had pulled my heart out, and I couldn’t explain it to anyone. And when I managed to communicate with him once more via email, he disappeared once more. And once again, I was left in the dust, left to fend with a swarm of feelings and heartache. I spent the next 7 years of my life with an unending yarn ball of trauma. I couldn’t understand why this person who said they cared about me could walk away. That didn’t make sense in my brain. It didn’t make sense in my world. I found myself consumed with a deep and dark grief that never left my side, for years, and eventually turned into the little neat thing we call depression. I lay awake, late at night, searching for answers, searching for him. It was an unhealthy obsession that no one knew about. But I just needed to know. I just wanted answers. This never ending experience of hell is what I believe, led partially to my downfall. I let myself be consumed by a single human being, a single human being who was meant to play an insignificant role in my life, but snowballed into an eclipse who covered every critical aspect of my world. 

Fast forward years. I’ve jumped through many hurdles. I’ve overcome emotional barrier after emotional barrier. I’ve learned how to cope with really really bad feelings that don’t include slicing my wrist with a rusty razor and soaking the sheets in my own tears and choked sobs at 2 AM. Somehow, I’ve taken that singular experience, and wired my brain to approach any scenario that even slightly resembles the likes of the one I had as an adolescent the same way. I’ve talked to many men. I’ve dated men. I’ve loved them, and adored them, and worshiped them, gone to the ends of the earth if need be. But you know what? The cute thing about life is that sometimes, those people walk away. Those people call it quits, give up, once they’ve sucked every last bit of joy and pleasure out of using you, manipulating you, doing as they please. Most people grieve, suck it up, and move on. So what part of me lacks the ability to do that? Sure, I’m great at cutting off communication, and removing them from my life, all that jazz. But in my mind, those people continue to take up space, to live and breathe in the fragments of my memories. I think over and over what I could’ve possibly done better, maybe I said something wrong, maybe one day they’ll come back and realize I was still there all along. I wonder how they’re doing, if they miss me, like I miss them, if there is anything I could possibly do to bring them back into the existential reality of my life. Even years later, I still lay in bed wondering about the guy from 4 years ago who probably doesn’t even remember my name. I still hurt, and ache, and wonder, the should’ves and couldves. I still look for their name, for messages, for photos, just to relive a sliver of what once was. Worst case scenario, I even tempt myself to write them a message and say hello. But why? Why do I do that? Why do I allow myself to self destruct over someone who should only serve as a tiny, tiny portion of my memories? Why do I replay mistakes and errors over and over again? People that treated me wrongly, that said hurtful things, that wished ill upon me and disregarded my feelings many times over, none of which deserve my empathy, or even my wishful thinking late at night. I wish I could dig far enough into my own trauma to understand what has led me to the abyss that is now my mind. I wish I could just have the answers so that I no longer have to ask myself all the why’s, to ache over someone who should no longer have a residency in my heart. I wish I could do better, be better. I wish I could fix myself. I’ve tried everything in my power to give it my best shot, to let go, to empower myself. And somehow, in the process of empowering myself, of declaring my own freedom, I trap myself once more in that same cycle, never to leave. It’s just so detrimentally painful to want to be good enough, no, to be something great and powerful, and to fall far far away from that, every. single. time. Do we control our own destinies? I find myself straying further and further away from that idea everyday. Because I try, damn it. I’ve tried everyday since the day I was born. And it goes wrong every time. I just need a reset button. I just need to start over, from scratch. If I had one more chance at getting this right, I promise I wouldn’t waste it. I just want one more shot at reaching for greatness. I want to prove that I’m worthy of being here. That I’m worthy of the people that constantly walk away. That I have so much to offer, and they don’t even realize it. Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe that’s what it hurts so fucking much every time--I’m just searching for approval, that I’m getting something right. And right as I think that I am, the people I swore to adore and give everything to vanish, only to leave me wallowing in my own self prophesied inadequacy. That’s what it’s always been, me searching for the approval of those around me growing up, and never finding it, constantly facing rejection from peers, teachers, family, school, boys, and even rejection from just simply fitting in and belonging, because I was never enough. So now, here I am, clamoring for the need to be enough from people who can hardly recognize the person in front of them--me. 

I need to learn that in order to find an existential meaning, in order to fulfill the gaping need for approval from those who are particularly irrelevant, in order to give myself a fighting chance to prove to MYSELF that I AM everything and more, I need to dedicate my energy to what matters, which is my own personal growth. Maybe then, I’ll be able to learn how to let go of the past, of the ghosts in the closet, to clean the cobwebs and throw out the clutter and make room for the progress I so desperately need. I don’t ever want to turn back, I don’t ever want to haunt myself with my own dead memories, with my own dead version of people who should no longer matter. I don’t want to live in the should’ves and could’ves. I want to be the person that will always be there for me, no matter what. I want to be what the people who have always walked away from me have failed to be. I don’t know how I’ll get there, but I will. I’ve overcome the shittiest of storms, the most turbulent of years, the highest of obstacles. I know, I just know, that one day, maybe not tomorrow, or next month, or next year, I will learn that the love I so desperately seek, the love I grieve over time and time again, is mine to claim, and the only one who I should ever run after is myself whenever I get lost or spiral into a sea of despair. I promise Ileana, one day, we will open the blinds, and we will let there be light--and the ghosts shall be no more. 

I promise. Keep going. 

We haven’t given up before,

and we sure as hell won’t now. 

Be the woman the little girl in you always dreamed of.

Be the hope we always wished for and ran after.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I came back to my apartment yesterday to little fanfare and a new refrigerator.  I left the house around nine.  Spent the day shopping for gifts for my mom’s birthday.  There was never any reply to my initial text to my landlord which included a request to install my new smart thermostat.  I had left in the text that I could always return it.  The old thermostat was refastened to the wall securely as if to prove a point.  Two hundred dollars less spent after a return but still the amount of things you have to read into is priceless.  That’s par for the course in this city.  Nobody likes confrontation.  Nobody is particularly good at it face to face.  I walked out my door to some gang shit.  My instinct is always to get out of the way.  First you look at people’s hands.  Then you make sure there are no guns.  Then you change your course quietly and walk away from any heated arguments.  I get on the bus to be greeted by my old neighbor who is Korean and a medical student.  I smile and nod politely.  Then spend the morning playing Hearthstone over coffee at a cafe called the wormhole.  It’s communal seating but I don’t feel very uncomfortable or out of place.  In New York being comfortable in public at a coffee house for me is the same as back home.  You are sitting there in public and people leave you alone for an hour while you do your thing.  I grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago in a bleak cultural wasteland.  The epicenter was a twenty minute drive to the next town over.  I drank so much coffee at Denny’s they eventually hired me.  I’d play magic the gathering in the smoking section until four in the morning.  Sometimes we’d meet up and drive to raves the next state over.  These days I don’t own a car anymore.  I’ve seen it parked around the city.  That’s a door to the past I’ve sealed shut with holy water and dark magic.  Life is always in your face to remind you how it really is.  Confronting the reality of it is akin to grabbing the hounds by the teeth.  What are you really trying to say with all that barking?  After travelling all over the world I’ve learned communication is a complex thing.  I’ve felt more accepted in silence than I have being explained over countless times.  Sometimes people say things without saying them.  My landlord is Polish.  The only word I know is be quiet.  When I told the landlord they didn’t quite smile.  It was in the emptiness of the moment I knew how things are.  Just like nobody dares move that Jesus statue in the parking spot when the snow goes above five inches.  There are unwritten rules and unspoken narratives in real cities that go untouched for better or for worse.  Mine just so happens to have a new refrigerator and the same familiar feeling.  No sudden changes financially or otherwise for the time being.  Nothing new worth confronting in the outside world other than in game currency.

Am in the matrix or am I outside the simulation?  If life had an on and off switch I’d be flipping that shit randomly to create the sickest of all strobe effects.  Sadly mortality doesn’t quite work that way.  Yolo is king.  The worst thing people could say behind my back is that I don’t fit in.  That I don’t belong when it’s so easy for me to be invisible in plain sight.  Every narrative walking around in the deep jungles of urban planning has a place.  Some of it you don’t want to be trapped in.  Some of them you cannot avoid.  It’s a geography of many overlapping circles or rhizomes.  Interconnected by impossible relationships and hidden values.  It’s quite daunting to navigate openly and transparently.  But half of the aesthetic of the clothes I wore wistfully cherished this sort of open rebellion.  An elegant sort of punk.  That you could come crashing in at any moment like the softest wave and roll back out to sea unknowingly.  And the tides would bring you back to the same point again and again.  Riding the wave isn’t something you control.  I have not yet mastered the ability of forcing gravity to do my bidding.  There’s rules you follow and practice involved.  But there is a knowing of when you are in danger at all times.  The more you value of yourself the less you are interested in rocking the boat or adding additional weight.  I like to think of whatever aura I project as rooted in some sort of accountability.  It’s easy to forget what all I do and how great I really am sure.  When I look back all I see is failure.  Kind of like when I look at a map and see Indiana just across the lake from us.  You stay over there with your dunes and your guns.  If I look at how long I’ve done the same things with broken results I know what doesn’t work for me.  I know suffering through the daily struggle doesn’t really have much to show for it other than being a good person.  I do know for however public or private people think I am it varies where on the map I’ve dropped the pin.  My reputation often precedes me so often that I constantly have to make sure people don’t get the wrong idea.  In my little bubble there are very few people outside of this blog that know or listen to anything personal.  I may talk to myself in the back room often instead of projecting it on the internet.  But I know the results of putting it all out there in the moment sound confusing when I hear myself say it.  I take time to reflect in my little world which is easier to do with a refrigerator that isn’t making noises all the time.  I have a consistent space where I renew and grow.  That space follows me out into the wild for better or for worse.  But the only real trouble at my doorstep are a couple of feral cats.  I can say after all these years that I have very little baggage other than the usual wrinkles under the eyes.  That’s what I get for staring at the screen at all times.  Somewhere out there I’ve got three oculus strapped to my forehead like I’m the edge lord of the inception.  Locked in a freezer or cryo for eternity would be poetic justice.

But really it’s just the same old Tim again this year.  The nightmare keeps getting realer.  I don’t know that I’m all that bothered by that.  It’s like I’ve set up a huge bulwark in my life over the years.  I put a lot of positive practices in motion with absolutely no validation.  And it hurt often.  Made me cry.  Made me think I would never be good enough.  And I faced those feelings.  I grew from them.  And ironically became more of the person I needed to be.  Whatever that is.  That’s the mind fuck of all of this.  Nobody has the answers for you.  You do.  And people will still make you question your reasons for living.  Make you feel your dreams are not possible.  That however far away they might be it’s not as distant as the silence you have to read into daily to survive.  Communication is rough.  We talk all the time.  I write down here week after week thinking someone will finally get it.  And someone does.  The person that gets it is me.  That’s why I write.  It’s very easy to reflect on the narrative a year ago.  Because it came from within me.  And I know where it’s failed.  And I know where it’s grown.  And most importantly I know where it matters and where it doesn’t.  If they say life is what you make it then we all should have an opportunity to make it better.  And then some people make over people’s entire right to exist in the process.  Just because they feel they know better.  Society is a constant steam roll of ideas that can be bad if you are too close in proximity.  You can’t force people to understand you and you also don’t need to accept half assed attempts at being understood.  The way I’ve navigated this over time has largely been time management.  There’s things like prioritzing, scheduling, financial planning, and dark looks into the mirror that coalesce.  I know people make me feel guilty daily for not sharing my power.  My life has practically been an open book nobody wants to acknowledge is a best seller.  I don’t really sell anything other than the places I eat when my refrigerator is broken.  In that respect the Chinese dumpling place by work is very cute.  But imagine if I wasn’t putting myself out there.  Or if I wasn’t comfortable living in this city alone, transparent and always questioned for interaction’s sake.  Life is pretty exhausting.  It’d be far more emotionally draining if I wasn’t able to just shut the door and stare out the window at peace over good coffee.  I think if anything I’ve become more comfortable with where I am in life.  And most of that is about being the king of my particular circle.  A very small space that represents individuality and freedom here in a very naughty country called America.  Change comes from within.  And while I don’t really see much changing I know I’m not going anywhere for the time being.  Other than sticking around here with you.  In the matrix.  Away from the prying eye’s of Sauron.  My lips are sealed much like my fate.  Six more months of WoW.  I’ll keep my heart on ice until further notice.  The frozen throne.  How many winters can I survive alone?  Trick question I’m a viking.  I’m genetically predisposed to be cold in the best possible way.  And I have the appliances to match.  <3 Tim

[selfcare2sanitee-blog]

It’s Motivational Momentum Mondayyyyyy!

    All of those self care tasks you put off over the weekend, you know, the same ones you put off last weekend, the same self care tasks you said you would get to Monday and now it’s Monday? Yeah, THOSE.

How are we supposed to accomplish those? With motivation and momentum... that’s how.

Majority of the time, Monday’s get a bad wrap. They have a terrible aesthetic. 

For this reason alone, I chose Monday’s to keep myself accountable for building positive momentum. A little reverse psychology on myself ;)

    Motivation is the epiphany or the thought that one should do better but momentum is the energy you put into it. 

Momentum is an important aspect of any goal reaching and it often gets misinterpreted as “going with the flow” when in all actuality it is a energetic force one creates by initiating small changes.

It may seem simple to some but finding motivation and creating momentum can be two of the most daunting tasks to someone who feels overwhelmed by their reality, much like I have found in my own experience. 

Finding the motivation to write your “To-Do” List was hard enough? I feel that. 

But...we're making small changes to build our MOMENTUM so we can stay MOTIVATED all 2019 and beyond.

Personally, happiness from within is my “big goal” and what I am motivated to do, but I’m building momentum to stay motivated by trying to write daily with transparency.

Writing everyday will create a force of truth and self-confrontation that will bring about a positive change in my life, & maybe someone else can try it and feel better too. 

In closing on this Motivational Momentum Monday, I ask all of you to ponder this thought...,

Are you going with the flow or are you a creating FORCE  to be reckoned with? 

Ultimately, it’s up to YOU, choose wisely.

**Disclaimer: I do not own any pictures that have been posted on this Tumblr Blog unless otherwise stated.

[julianjdavis]

WHAT‘S AN INTROVERT TO DO WITH THE GREAT COMMISSION?

We are what we think about ourselves. And as if being our own worst enemy wasn't enough, we get plenty of help from society to shape our thinking. Pick your poison. There's an article, a podcast, a TED Talk, a book, a conference tailored just your size—affirming and encouraging what you might resonate with the most. There's a plethora of identities to diagnose yourself with. We wear whatever fits best.

No doctors are needed. Introvert is a label we place on ourselves. It's all about how well we know our own self. And as I'm writing this now, I'm realizing how often I'm having to use the word self. The answer to the question of whether you're an introvert or extrovert comes down to how self aware you are. I'm sure those around us could chime in on the topic as well, but we know us better than anyone.

Take me for example. I'm a textbook introvert by nature. I mean, I physically feel my heart trying to leap through my chest at the thought of speaking in front of a room full of people. Even a tiny room. The more courage I muster up to open my mouth, the more intense it gets. Being in a large group setting for an extended amount of time is about as exhausting for me as running a 2K in a sweat suit in the middle of July. I'd much rather stay home and read.

Then there's the chronic brain cramps, like a car engine misfiring, that leave me saying something totally different than my original thought. Seriously. Something happens in between my medulla oblongata and my mouth. When I'm with my wife she can see it happening and just gently grab my arm. That's my cue to find the nearest exit from the tangent I was running off on. Lord knows where it was going.

I had always thought there was just something wrong with me. Until a few years ago when I was rescued by the fresh wave of content that welcomed my social awkwardness with open, loving arms. And of course, a label that gave it value. The whole introvert/extrovert spiel is nothing new. But there just happened to be a surge of articles from some trendy and intellectual sources that caught my eye.

I don't know where things went south for me. I've always enjoyed making people laugh. I'm just naturally not very comfortable with people I don't know well. My mom most definitely has the "life-of-the-party" personality. Everyone who knows her knows that. She's loud and fun. My dad, on the other hand, was one of those rare breeds of people who understood the art of perfecting his craft. This meant tunnel vision. It meant working while everyone else was sleeping. He did always make time for me, though. And for the record, he did have a personality. He also had no problem performing in front of large crowds since he was a professional musician.

Then there's me.

In all my self-analysis I've tried to trace back to the cause. As if I were an alcoholic trying to find the beginning of my downward spiral. I was in the acceptance stage. I guess I'm just weird like that, I said to myself.

Then after reading more about it from a positive standpoint, I was able to switch a few letters around in that word weird. Instead, I realized I was just wired like that. Not everyone is meant to be the life of the party. God made me this way and it is oh so okay.

I clung onto verses like Psalms 139:14 that says "I am fearfully and wonderfully made." I found comfort in the fact that God doesn't make mistakes and that He made us uniquely different. The sovereign Creator made all things yet has no errors or accidents. Including me.

So I set out to be the most confident introvert there ever was. I was newly content in my skin. I was ready to take on the world—quietly and subtly, of course. Then I remembered the story of how God used Moses in spite of his insecurity. He had some sort of issues with his speech and didn't think he was good enough for God to use him. Even after He performed two miracles to remind and reassure him of His power. I just love what God said to him: “Who has made man's mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.” (Exodus 4:11-12)

That resonates with me on such a deep level. As it does with any one of the seventy-three verses over the course of three chapters in the book of Job when God put him in His place. You can't help but feel the mammoth difference between the Creator and His created being.

Then came some serious soul searching to find the place where my gifting and passion intersect as it relates to the kingdom. Music.

Questions arose like how does an introvert pursue music? More specifically, how does one pursue a role like leading worship? Because the men and women who wear those shoes have radiant, magnetic qualities that I don't possess. They're outgoing and witty. Not shy and quiet.

I read the job description and line after line was a case toward my inadequacy. There was no way I could do all of those things. I prayed for God to change me, knowing fully well that He was capable and would if He wanted that for me. I begged Him even. All I have to work with is a surrendered heart, the ability to carry a tune (that's debatable) and a passion for theology. There's plenty left to be desired. So I've accepted the fact that I don't fit the mold of a worship leader—at least by popular standards.

Still, I've wrestled through trying to discern what was actually true about myself and what lies I've been believing. Because there is a lurking enemy who day and night plots ways to steal, kill and destroy. I'm sure I'd be a threat to him if I were invoking the presence of God and inviting others to join me in His glory. What a potential threat that makes me.

But the fact of the matter is that leading worship is not a God-appointed mandate. Whether or not I'm up on a stage, or in the pews, or in my car, or even the shower, I can sing Him praises from my heart. He may not need to use me front and center. I have total peace there.  

But what does a so-called introvert do with the Great Commission? What do I do with the call to share the gospel? How can I radiate the joy of the Lord and love others well? What about community? What about using my gifts to edify the body? These things aren't so optional. In fact, they aren't at all. And I have no peace whatsoever with where I measure with those things.

I just can't wrap my brain around the notion that I could stand before God and it going something like this:

God: What have you done with My words? What have you done for My kingdom? Me: Well, you see… I have this condition. I wanted to do all these grand, amazing things but… but You made me this way. God: That's true. I'll give you a pass. But what about when I wanted you to pray for that man in the parking lot? And why is it that none of your neighbor’s know Me? I placed you right next to them. I also surrounded you with brothers and sisters to help you. Me: I wanted to engage but I just couldn't calm my pounding chest. I was too scared, too shy. And what if they think I'm weird or I mess everything up? God: Well, I know you wanted to and I know you tried. As long as you know Me I guess it's okay. I don't want to inconvenience anyone. Even though My Son went through much worse for you and it's not My will that any should perish.

I'd be willing to bet that you also have a hard time finding that scene to really play out that way. I also want to make sure that anyone reading this who identifies themselves as an introvert feels encouraged and not offended by the end of this post. There are plenty of legitimate factors that make it extremely difficult in a social setting. These challenges are an annoying reality.

But this enemy of ours is also an enemy of God's. He's a liar and the father of lies. He the master of deception. From the beginning he's whispered falsehood that contradicts what God says. He contradicts what He says about us and where our true identity lies.

So the real question is what does God say about us? What does He say about me?

My wife and I got plugged into a church with a missional mindset and a pastor who is leaping head first into the daunting task of breaking away from traditional church as we've known it. I just love him. And discipleship is the collective tone of the body.

On our first Sunday we joined them already in progress as they were going through the gospels. Not long after that, the pastor led our small group by teaching on what he gleaned from his recent trip to Haiti. This was the game changer for me.

Apart from already being confronted with the reality that sharing the gospel is as much about building relationship as it is about sharing faith, and that either of those things involve interacting with other humans, there's a lot more truth to be added. There's more coal to the fire.

The gospel is the lens that all of life passes through. In our small group we addressed the different insecurities and hindrances and doubts and fears that keep us from making disciples. There were so many lies I've allowed myself to believe. Then they were eclipsed by God's truth.

We turned to 2 Corinthians 5:17-21:

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."

The words that have taken root in me are new and ambassador. We are in a constant battle of spirit against flesh. Old nature versus new. This is one of those concepts I've heard thousands of times but in this context, understanding that Christ made me new was like a ceasefire amidst this war that’s brewing inside me.  

It's like being knighted. It's like having your name changed from Jacob to Israel or from Saul to Paul. And with this new identity comes a new role. Ambassador. I literally carry God's righteousness! Not mine. I walk and talk bearing the righteousness of God. The act of being made new was Him bringing me to Himself. As His ambassador in His righteousness.  

So what else is true about my identity?

I'm a conqueror.  (Romans 8:37)

I am complete in Christ. (Col. 2:10)

I've been chosen. (Eph. 1:4, 1 Peter 2:9)

I have power. (Isaiah 40:29-31, Romans 8:11, 2 Cor. 12:9, 2 Tim. 1:7)

I have authority. (Luke 10:19)

I am helped. (Isaiah 41:10)

I am loved. (Romans 8:38-39, 1 John 3:1)

I am strengthened. (Phil. 4:13, Eph. 3:16, 6:10, 2 Tim. 1:7)

I am courageous. (Deut. 31:6)

I am bold. (6:19-20)

I am free. (John 8:36)

I am brave. (Joshua 1:9)

I was created for good works. (Eph. 2:10)

And there’s more…

God is actively in the process of finishing the work He started in me (Phil. 1:6).  

He grants me access to everything I need (2 Peter 1:3).  

He can do far more than I could even fathom (Eph. 3:10).  

It is Christ who lives in me and I have His mind (Galatians 2:20, 1 Cor. 2:16).  

God keeps me in perfect peace (Isaiah 26:3).

His truth is where my thoughts should live (Phil. 4:8).

This is who I am. These are the abilities I possess. This is who you are and the abilities you have. When we get out of bed and take on the day ahead, with all it's opportunities and it’s challenges, we should as our true selves. And we can only do that after we've given up our claim to who we are outside of Christ.

When you surrender your entire being to the Lord, He can have His way with you and change you as He wills and for the best possible purposes. There's liberty in surrendering. There's a calming confidence in knowing that He who knows best, is best and wants our best has the control. We don’t need it. And we're better off without it.

It's why Paul knew he could rely on his flesh for absolutely nothing (Philippians 3:3). The God who calls us to “go” doesn't send us out in our own skin wearing all our humanity. We are too bent in ways that disrupt His perfect mission. Each of us have parts of ourselves that we need to bring under His submission. We need every bit of Him and all that He offers us in order to carry out the mission He called us to.

No matter where you lean on the introvert/extrovert scale, Christ levels the playing field. Either way, we need to die to ourselves and our former identity along with it. The former slave becomes free in Him. The former free man becomes a slave in Him (1 Corinthians 7:22-23). Jesus paid for our ability to become new. He purchased our identity with His life. And when I answered His call I took on that identity in Him.

The world promotes self-awareness but God is in the business of humbling and decreasing men so He can be the increase. So we are less aware of ourselves and more aware of Christ in us. He rescues us from our own self. Oswald Chambers explains it this way:

“Ask the Lord to put awareness of Himself in you, and your self-awareness will disappear. Then He will be your all in all… If we try to overcome our self-awareness through any of our own commonsense methods, we will only serve to strengthen our self-awareness tremendously. Jesus says, “Come to Me…and I will give you rest,” that is, Christ-awareness will take the place of self-awareness.”

[fqtoxicity]

New Post has been published on My Quin Story

New Post has been published on http://www.myquinstory.info/avoid-these-four-psychological-pitfalls-after-floxing/

Avoid These Four Psychological Pitfalls After Floxing

Unlike many of the articles on this website, this article is specifically directed to those who are newly floxed, although veteran floxies may also relate to some of the issues discussed.

For the person that is starting to become aware, or at least suspecting, that their health issues could be the result of damage by the Fluoroquinolones (Levaquin Cipro, Avelox, Floxin, etc…), the amount of data that you can be faced with is often overwhelming, frustrating, and just downright depressing.  

When trying to assimilate information about a subject that is often dismissed by the medical community and that is scattered over a broad playing field, a person can be faced with several disadvantages.  Some of these disadvantages can become psychological pitfalls and if you are not careful and they, in-turn, can hamper your progress.

The first pitfall: Separating Facts from codswallop, also known as poppycock, balderdash, hog wash, and the like.

There nothing like starting out with a hard and sensitive subject. This pitfall is one of the most difficult pitfalls for many people and a subject that I could write volumes on: The sorting of facts from opinions and personal belief.

For some, this pitfall arises because of the ambiguity between real medical research and personal opinion.  These opinions, which are often well-meaning, can range all over the place from the practical to the downright bizarre, and they can come from various sources, some of them seemingly quite credible. These sources encompass countless floxed ‘experts’ that you find populating online forums and groups (myself included) to doctors who, although they have the moniker of M.D. by their name, wouldn’t know a floxed person if the surgeon general himself came up and put their arm around them. 

Bottom line, the task of discerning good data from bad data can be overwhelming.  

If you are a data driven person, the ugly truth is, when it comes to Fluoroquinolone toxicity, there are actually very few officially documented facts.  Some folks, especially those with a science background, are often shocked by the paucity of research that has been done, despite the many years that have gone by and the sheer amount of people affected.  Many times these well-meaning newcomers will march off, disgusted that I and others haven’t done more, hoping to change the world, that is, until they run into the FDA, AMA, and the whole “for-profit” medical industry.

In a nutshell, there are many reasons that explain the lack of robust medical research that has gone into Fluoroquinolone toxicity, but the nitty-gritty is that the drug companies control our “for profit” medical industry through funding and data.  Even now, in many medical circles, Fluoroquinolone toxicity, is much like the Bermuda Triangle or Bigfoot, completely relegated to the lunatic fringe.

Getting back to facts. There are good facts that bolster our case against the Fluoroquinolones. Much of it is spread out across a large playing field and it is not connected together and this can be a daunting task that requires hours of research. Also, of the existing Fluoroquinolone facts that are available, we do have some good facts, but conversely we also have questionable facts despite having authors with seemingly impeccable credentials.

An example of a good simple documented fact about Fluoroquinolones is that they are Topoisomerase 2 Inhibitors.  Again, this is a known and documented fact. Another fact is that they are chemotherapeutic agents that exhibit anti-cancer or anti-tumor tendencies.  Again, both of these facts have been documented well in research.

However, just because the research has a supposed authoritative source, doesn’t mean the facts are actually good facts. An example of a questionable fact is that Fluoroquinolones have a good safety record.  Although the science proving Fluoroquinolone safety is readily accepted by doctors, much of the science that supports Fluoroquinolone safety it is fraught with drug interference and author bias. These supposed documented safety facts, are also contradicted by the lived experience of thousands of individuals who have become disabled over the last several decades and is backed up by the FDA’s own data.   

 Tip:  Always look at author bias or author motives in the data that is being presented.  Is the author representing the pharmaceutical industry?  Or, is the author selling something? (Hint: I am not in this for the notoriety, fame or money).  

So how do I filter out truth?  I look at the data (medical science, research, current medical practices) and then compare it with the truckload of anecdotal information and form my opinions. I have to admit that I am in the unique position of having access to a lot of anecdotal information. But let me say one more thing about this point.

Many, many people in the floxed community, who are mostly well-meaning, incorporate personal opinions about the Fluoroquinolones into their personal belief system and these belief systems exist at the sub-conscious level.  Again, although well meaning, these beliefs can be incorrect but because of lived experiences or other influences this erroneous data is often believed to be correct.  Let me give you an example:

There is a belief that circulates around the Fluoroquinolones community that NSAIDS are bad for floxed people, despite the paucity of data that backs up the belief.   While it is true that NSAIDS are contraindicated and should not be taken WHILE a person is currently taking an Fluoroquinolones, there really is no hard science to show that they cannot be taken later, after an adverse event.  The truth is, some people find out they can take them with no problem, while others cannot.  Still, you have die-hard individuals telling the newly floxed, “You can never take another NSAID again!” or “NSAIDS will always cause a bad reaction post floxing.”  These statements are coming from a belief system, albeit an erroneous one.

On a side note, do you know what happens when you question a belief system?  You usually get anger as a response.  If you question a person and get anger in response, you have tapped into their belief system. Social media is fraught with belief centered confrontations, especially during the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Bottom line: Always be proactive and question medical knowledge that will be applied to your personal situation, regardless of the source.  It doesn’t matter if it is safe for others, the question is, is it safe for you?   

The second pitfall: Putting all your eggs in one basket.

Some people may think that my website (as great as it may be), or another website dealing with Fluoroquinolone toxicity, or a certain Facebook forum, or a certain floxed solution ebook sold elsewhere on the internet, are great authoritative compendiums of information.  So much so, that they do not have the need to look for information elsewhere. Avoid this pitfall by looking at all sources of information that you glean from other sources, with a critical, detached attitude.  Use the all information for your personal benefit by adjusting it to your own expanding awareness and your lived reality.  For example, because of your own unique physiology you may get very ill taking a supplement that everyone else finds perfectly safe. 

Don’t go overboard, but look at data from other sources?  Do they agree with one another?  Is there a general consensus? 

Basing your decisions on one fact or piece of data can be very dangerous.  

Mark Twain once said, “Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint.” 

The third pitfall: Watch out for Hypochondria.

Please do not read this website, the Flox report, listen to other ‘experts’ in Facebook groups or discussion forums and start believing that you have all the symptoms of any Fluoroquinolone Toxicity. Doing this you will end up convinced that you are suffering a far worse reaction than it really is, and that will make you suffer unnecessarily.

Recently, I believed I could have some symptoms from heavy metal poisoning, which can be real concern post floxing.  To gather more information, I joined a Gadolinium forum to search out some specific information on various detoxing regimens from heavy metals. Boy was that a mistake! It was like taking an adventure into an alternative parallel universe. If I had not compiled the learned experienced of over 14 years in the flox community, I would have walked away devastated.  I literally saw many of people with symptoms who were in search of a cause.   Hear me…. I am not saying that Gadolinium deposition disease is not real, nor am I saying that people don’t suffer greatly from it, I am just using this to make a point.   

I have seen this very exact thing play out in the floxed community hundreds of times over the last decade; some floxed individuals want, at all costs, to match their reactions against data and experiences of others in order to create an instrument to rate their adverse event (AE) or symptoms.  They look for a precise timetable of recovery from others, who are eager to give it out, and then try to make plans to foresee every event that is going to happen to them during their recovery.  Let me let you in on a little hint…no one can do that.  Predicting the future, is not its objective of this website and it should not be the objective of any other source of data either.

While it is true, I and maybe some others, can give you a general idea of what floxing is and the suffering that is caused by Fluoroquinolones, I cannot, and neither can others, evaluate your individual case and determine its outcome or course of progression. 

Bottom line:  There are no prophets in the Fluoroquinolone community.

There was a person, who, in one of the Facebook forums, was handing out timeline advice like candy that was based on their own personal experience.   They would tell people, “your digestive issues should clear up by the 6-month mark” or “an average reaction takes about two years to complete,” etc…

If after being told this information by someone who seems well respected, you try to establish at all costs the predicted recovery date for  that symptom of yours, you will surely get very anxious and depressed when your digestion is not normal by month 12.

If you attempt to use the opinions of others as a complete guide for your illness, you will become frustrated and you will lose the necessary perspective and strength to handle your intoxication from the proper perspective.

Floxing is a life altering experience that does not resemble any normal illness process that you have experienced before in your life or have come to learn about, like post-surgery recovery, healing an infection, or post-traumatic recuperation. Most likely, all health issues that you had prior to the floxing started to heal as soon as the offending agent was removed. This is not the case with quinolones.  They are synthetic DNA damaging/altering chemotherapeutic agent.

The hard truth is, some floxed folks will feel progressively worse for months or maybe years before returning to a normal functional life achieved. Most people are programmed under our current medical system, that there is something that can be done such as take a prescription medication, put a Band-Aid on the wound, or perform some rehabilitation exercises.  Fluoroquinolones toxicity is different.  

For most nothing can be done to halt or reverse an AE from Fluoroquinolones after the end of treatment. It is very much like suffering from a chronic degenerative illness and has many overlaps with gulf war syndrome, lyme, lupus, multiple sclerosis and others.

However, if you have one or even several symptoms of a severe AE, that does NOT mean that you are destined for a severe AE, and no one can predict its outcome.  It truly is the whole complete picture that counts.  I have seen too many floxed persons that have mild AE’s become hypochondriacs worrying about the possibility of having a severe AE and magnifying real or imaginary symptoms to match those of a severe AE.

Tip: Never, I mean never, take healing advice or timeline advice from someone who claimed to have been healed from Fluoroquinolone Toxicity in six month or less. The overwhelming chances are, they were never floxed in the first place.  

The fourth pitfall: Becoming Overzealous.

Having partially fallen into this overzealous trap myself early on in my floxing, it is another extremely common mistake to be overcome overzealous in your search for exact answers, explanations, cures, treatments, timetables and protocols for every minor symptom that shows up.

Even people considered extremely healthy have negligible physical changes or events that take place in their life that are totally ignorable.  Overreaction to the Fluoroquinolone AE can cause floxies to become worried and look for Fluoroquinolones lying in wait at every corner of their lives, or extremely afraid and obsessive about potential negative influences of normal habits, like taking a shower with tap water tainted with fluoride.

At the same time, this does not mean that you should not adhere to good medical practice and have new or unusual symptoms evaluated by a competent medical professional.  About eight years into my floxing I kept getting some abdominal pain in my lower right abdomen. I assumed that it was a muscle spasm, and due to my medical knowledge, I even convinced my doctor that it was muscle spasms as well. Wrong, it ended up being my gallbladder that was displaying atypical symptoms.

Bottom line:  Be proactive and advocate for your health, but please do not look at your entire life through the Fluoroquinolone lens.  This only adds anxiety and despair to the already intense impact of being floxed.

Conclusion

Above all else keep in mind that your floxing experience is unique one that centers around your physiology. Floxing experiences are novel, probably more novel than the coronavirus SARSCOV2. No person (not even me),  no report, no Facebook group, no Twitter post can substitute for your own personal knowledge about your symptoms, your recovery and all your health aspects.

Our medical system today has its strengths and weaknesses.  It is very good at triage and very bad at pharmaceutical interventions. No one wants to go through the terrible experience of floxing, as floxing represents the darker side of our medical system.   Most floxies end up here through no fault of their own.  Instead, they trusted the advice of someone who was suppose to be an expert. 

If you are new to this plight, do yourself a favor, first be kind to yourself, and the try not to fall into these four psychological pitfalls.

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[wanderingaunt]

The Vulnerability in Asking

*This post was inspired by Marsha Shandur of Yes, Yes Marsha! After attending True Stories (Told Live) Toronto! on Zoom this evening. There were some captivating storytellers who dug deep and inspired to write stories for this blog post.

I walked into the kitchen and found an empty Instant Carnation coffee tin.

“This will be perfect,” I thought.

I left the room with my tin in hand and walked into the office. I took a white piece of paper and cut a small rectangle from it. I took a pen out and wrote the words “Donations” on the outside of it. I taped the paper to the outside of the tin and smiled.

“This will be perfect.”

I was probably 7 or 8 at the time. I knew all of the neighbors in our neighborhood and visited with them throughout the week. I collected my tin and eagerly stepped out the door. I walked around the neighborhood and went door to door knocking. Neighbors would open the door, and I would hold out my donations tin. Knowing me, I probably had some sort of speech planned that enrolled the neighbors in why it would benefit them to donate to my cause. My cause is still foggy in my memory. Regardless, I had a cause and thought my neighbors could support it financially.

House by house, my tin begin to fill with more and more change. When my tin was full, I closed the plastic lid on the container and skipped back home. I was so excited! I had collected so much change. I couldn’t wait to show my Mom.

Now this is the part of the story, where I’m not totally clear on the exact details, so I’ll share what I remember as stored in my memory.

I ran home and opened the door and showed my Mom my tin full of coins. I was so excited that people had actually given me money! Rather than being excited for me and cheering me on, I saw a look of horror pour across my Mom’s face. Suddenly I got the notion that what I had done was not okay. It was not okay for me to Ask for money, especially money from neighbors.

I was immediately filled with shame.

“It’s not okay to Ask for money.” Got it. I stored that message deep in my mind.

Fast-forward to a few years later. My Great Aunt Mimi had just come to town for her annual visit. I loved when Mimi came. She would play with us, read to us, and buy us toys. Neither my Great Aunt Mimi nor Uncle Charlie ever married or had children of their own. They would treat my Mom and her sisters as their children. As such, they would often take care of certain financial needs. Thanks to Mimi and Charlie, I was able to get braces, get new school clothes, and receive money for various trips or school activities.

When Mimi arrived, I was beyond excited. I couldn’t wait to receive Licorice Nips hard candy, and of course receive new toys! I always had this view that Mimi and Charlie were rich. “Rich” to a child is often different from reality. I don’t know what their exact financial situation was, but in my eyes they were wealthy. As such, that meant they had money to spare. I remember going into Mimi’s room while she was visiting. She had asked me to get her wallet from her purse. For whatever reason, likely out of curiosity, I picked up Mimi’s wallet and opened it. My eyes grew big. I saw a lot of cash tucked away in the wallet. I pulled it out and began to count. I was amazed. Mimi carried a lot of cash with her. I put the cash back in and carried it off to find Mimi. When I handed her the wallet, I said, “Woh! You have XXX dollars in your wallet!” I don’t remember the exact amount, but I’m sure it was more cash that I had held before.

Once again, I was taken aback. Mimi got this look of being violated on her face which then turned into anger. In her thick Jersey accent, Mimi looked at me and exclaimed, “You went through my wallet?! Did I tell you that you could open my wallet? Why did you think it was okay to count my cash?”

I was mortified and filled with shame.

“What were you thinking?? You never go through someone’s wallet and ask about how much money they have.” Got it. I stored that message deep in my mind.

These are two stories that have shaped my view of money and asking.

Lesson #1: It’s not okay to Ask other people for money.

Lesson #2: It’s not okay to Ask others how much money they have, and by all means never count it!

Shame became my underlying theme for my relationship to Money.

I stored these memories deep in my psyche. It wasn’t until a few months ago that these memories resurfaced while in meditation. It was towards the end of my yearlong coaching program. As part of our Retreat Leader Certification, we had to submit various calls and videos. When I first looked at the criteria for the certification, I remembered seeing “Submit a Successful Sales Call”. My heart sank. “How in the world am I going to submit a successful sales call?” I thought. Fear immediately consumed me. I naturally pushed my sales call off week after week.

Consider what you resist most is actually what you’re meant to lean into.

In March, I attended my final in-studio yoga class right before Stay at Home orders began. It was my favorite Soulful Sunday class with my favorite yoga teacher, Dustin. Dustin likes to crank the heat up in class so we’re already sweating before we start moving. Dustin always pushes us to our limit and reminds us how powerful we are. In that particular class, he guided us into this really challenging heart opening pose. It was similar to Camel pose except one leg was hovering off the ground. Camel is challenging on its own, and having to hover our legs made it all the more challenging. It is also a “Fight or Flight” pose which opens your heart and tests your very limit. I got into the pose on the first side, and was consumed with anxiety.

“I’m going to die! I’m going to die!” I shouted in my head.

I got out of the pose on my right side and caught my breath. When we got to the pose on the other side, I allowed myself to try again. I got into the pose once again, and felt the rush, anxiety, and emotion consume me. I got out of the pose and collapsed face down onto my mat and began crying.

“You’re not going to die. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re not going to die.” I thought in my head.

In that instance I realized, “This is what Asking feels like to me.”

Asking feels like I’m going to die.

I thought back on my life and recognized how not Asking or fearfully asking has impacted me. Asking is extremely vulnerable for me. And, at the core of Asking, is shame.

And it isn’t only with money. Asking for anything has hindered me. After making decisions as a child that “it’s not okay to ask for money”, I took this to heart. I decided that since it wasn’t okay to Ask, I would become self-sufficient and do everything on my own. I became a pro early on. I learned to take care of myself. If I needed money, I would earn it myself. When I started my period as a tween, I was too ashamed to ask my Mom or sisters for tampons, so I figured it out myself. When I wanted to do something and needed to ask permission, I would come up with some long story to enroll the other person in it. Even asking for simple things at my former job like, “Can I take a day off or go on vacation?”, was extremely difficult for me. I would add in humor to make the request seem less daunting. And let’s forget about asking for a raise. Luckily, I had a boss who would take a stand for me and ensure I got periodic raises. “Wooh, off the hook there.”

At the core of Asking, is the answer, “No.”

At least that was what I built in my head. If I asked for something, the answer would ultimately be No. So why ask? I learned to get clever at my leasing job. I would sell customers on my experience living at the apartment community, rather than asking them if they wanted to lease. So you can imagine what it was like when I decided to quit my job, go on my nomadic journey, and start my own business.

I would eventually have to confront my fear and shame around Asking.

Solo-traveling the world has supported me in learning to flex my muscle around Asking. However, it’s usually the last resort. I try every way to figure out the problem on my own before resorting to asking someone. The more I’ve enhanced my intuition and awareness, the better I’ve become moving through my discomfort around Asking.

So back to my Retreat Leader certification and having to submit a successful sales call. I was terrified. All of my anxiety and shame around Asking for money resurfaced. One of my coach’s support team members offered to do sales calls with us. I was excited because, I didn’t have to offer an invitation to potential clients. I had my call with Janet and felt a bit spacey, but pleased after the fact. I was proud of myself for showing up and taking on the challenge. When I got my score back, I saw that I failed the sales call portion. 3 out of 10. In the notes, my coach wrote: “I want you to spend one FULL DAY in which you cannot TELL anyone anything, you can only ask.”

Gulp.

I immediately broke into tears. Not only had I failed this portion and had to redo it, I now was challenged with only ASKING for a day?! Once again “Fight or Flight” took over, and I felt like I was going to die. Maybe this was my sign that this certification wasn’t for me. Who was I for thinking I could complete and pass this anyway? After a good 30-minute cry, I went downstairs and told my sister what happened. My sister who is oversees a division of the Introduction Leadership Program for Landmark Worldwide, validated my upset and asked me if she could share something with me. I said yes. She looked at me and said she has witnessed many people she’s coached up against a wall; a wall in which the person felt like they wouldn’t be able to break through.

The moment a person accepts a challenge and chooses to show up fully (with fear and all the emotions attached), is the moment that magic happens.

She told me this challenge alone could be the reason I was called to enroll in this coaching program in the first place.

I chose to accept my coach’s challenge and only ASK for a day. It was quite a challenge and practice! I constantly had to pause and be mindful about forming questions rather than telling anyone anything. I persevered and made it a whole 24 hours with only asking questions. I was super proud of myself for moving through my fear and resistance, accepting the challenge, and showing up fully for it. I do thrive off of challenges, after all.

In the end, I had a successful sales call (with my coach nonetheless) and passed my Retreat Leader Certification! I even got a sale from it! This challenge taught me to view Asking from a different lens.

When we ask questions, we’re taking the attention off of ourselves and allowing space for the other person to decide.

I share these stories as a way to connect my resistance around Asking, and to share the heavy interpretations about Money and Asking that I’ve carried with me. Asking for money, a sale, or offering my services is still a block for me. I am working through it, and want to acknowledge that it’s still present for me at times. I have a beautiful website. I have a beautiful offering of services that I truly believe will change the world one person at a time. I have created beautiful art through my photoshoots and writing. When you see me post about a new offering or service, know that I have to move through many barriers to allow these spirited offerings to be known.

I offer anyone else who struggles with Asking or has shame around money, to take heart. You are not alone. Allow yourself to acknowledge your discomfort, create a mantra or say some affirmations about your worthiness, and step out into the light. It may be scary. It may feel personal when no one responds, or someone says, “No.” Keep showing up. Believe in yourself and your offerings or desires, and trust that the right people will come. Ask for support from others when you’re feeling scared, stuck or full of shame.

Host a Girl’s Night Inward

In August, I am on a mission to impact 100 people by Asking for people to host a Girl’s Night Inward. Girl’s Night Inward is a fun and enchanting evening for your tribe to come together in safe space for individual oracle card readings. We live in a world where at the core of our being, we all want to be seen and heard. Girl’s Night Inward provides a safe space for you and your tribe to be seen and receive messages tailored to each specific person. Would you consider being a host and inviting your tribe for a unique, fun, and enchanting evening via zoom? Send me a message or if you know you’re ready to host, reserve your spot here.

Love Donation

If you’ve been enjoying my 30-day Blog Challenge, would you consider offering a Love Donation? I write and produce all of my content for free. While I enjoy writing as a self-expression, I would appreciate any financial support you wish to offer. Thank you.

[kylerawcs206-blog]

Credit Card Debt Relief Laws - Tips To Take Advantage And Settle Bad Credit Debt

"You're experiencing problems handling your debt load and one or more creditors have offered your debt over to a debt collector.

The term debt collector often strikes worry in the mind of the consumer and we frequently have visions of a thug showing up at our door with a baseball bat to collect the debt or think of somebody calling our company and everyone else we understand, to run us down and exert pressure on us to pay.

What can we do? What are our rights? Or, even better, what can the collector do or not do?

This is such an important problem and if you are among the unlucky ones in this situation, it can toxin your life. When you remain in that kind of a situation, it typically feels as if you're all alone and it just seems that there's nowhere to turn for help. On top of that, some of the financial obligation collectors out there use all sorts of techniques to try and daunt the consumer and, rather frankly, typically do things outside what's allowed by the law, counting on the reality that customers don't understand their rights.

There can be a tendency to just disregard it and hope that it disappears or, to conceal from it completely, but that's definitely the worst thing to do. Take a look at the truths, discover out where you stand, and what are your rights. You just may be amazed.

So, Let's take a glimpse at a few of the main questions individuals ask when they're confronted with this:

1. Are financial obligation collectors subject to any rules? Absolutely! A lot of jurisdictions/countries have laws that define what financial obligation collectors can and can't do. In the US, that law is called the ""Fair Debt Collection Practices Act"" (FDCPA Pinnacle One Funding for short) and it's implemented by the FTC. Some states also have laws, the arrangements of which can vary from those of the FDCPA. What follows are remarks based upon the FDCPA. You ought to check in your area to see if there is a specific law in your jurisdiction.

2. Who's covered? The FCCPA covers anyone that regularly gathers debts owed to others, consisting of collection agencies, attorneys who regularly gather financial obligations and companies that purchase debts and then try to gather them on their own behalf. Among the key phrases here is ""owed to others"". Your bank, for instance, is not covered by this act (they're generally covered by a plethora of other laws, though) but, a debt collector acting on behalf of your bank would be.

3. What Financial obligations are covered by the Law? The FDCPA covers individual debt, good examples being charge card debt, auto loan or home mortgages. The act does not cover the company financial obligation.

4. Can the debt collector call me at any time of the day? Unless you provide the collector a thumbs-up to do so, they can not call you at troublesome times. What's ""troublesome"" undergoes analysis, however it is generally taken to imply before 8:00 am or after 9:00 pm.

5. What about contacting me at work? A collector can not call you at work if you recommend him/her that you're not permitted to receive calls there.

6. Can the collector speak with another person about my debt? A collector can contact your spouse or anybody representing you in this case. A collector might not arbitrarily contact other individuals, except to get your address, telephone number or where you work.

7. What if I don't, or believe that I do not, owe the cash? A debt collector should stop contacting you if you advise the collector that you do not owe any or all of the http://edition.cnn.com/search/?text=https://www.nocomo.org/loans/listing/5b172871df214afe6089a29e6a64d3be/ cash, except, to send you evidence validating the financial obligation. When the collector has actually supplied that show he can then resume contacting you unless you once again dispute that claim.

8. Can a collector take my checking account or salaries? A collector can just do that if it has actually taken court action versus you, has won and, gotten judgment. Whatever you do, don't overlook any notifications of legal action being taken. Act so as to make certain to protect your rights.

9. What are collectors forbidden from doing? In general terms, collectors are restricted from:

- Bugging you

- Lying when they're attempting to collect a financial obligation

- Providing false information about you

- Utilizing unjust practices

For more information on what is prohibited practices, consult your state's Attorney General's office or the FTC.

What can I do to get more details on debt collection or other credit-related topics or, if you desire to submit a claim? Go to. There you'll discover links to the National Association of Lawyer Generals and a variety of others dealing with debt collection and credit, including some for different sections within the FTC, such as the ""grievance assistant""."