#i have no agenda i’m just a kind samaritan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peaches-writes · 4 years ago

Text

tumbles and turns

description: a month in the life of you and your college roommate, minho—except you’re from rival universities preparing for an intercollegiate cheerdance competition member: minho / lee know genre: fluff, sports au (off-season universe), college au, roommates au, slice of life, friends to lovers au word count: 7.9k warning: explicit language, mentions of food, injuries, & harassment; a very jealous and protective minho notes: ah yes another sports au about a sport i’m not well-versed in that ended up not making sense + anw whatever danceracha pep squad agenda 💅

week 1 of 4

Minho finally releases the laugh he’s been holding for the past ten minutes, shaking his head in disbelief before hopping off of the edge of the sink where he’s been quietly judging you. “Seriously,” He smirks teasingly, expertly dodging your disapproving frown and your attempt at smacking his arm as he stands between you and the mirror then takes the comb from your hands. “You look fine—kind of wonky, actually, but you’ll live.”

“Ya!” You huff with a light stomp of your foot on the bathroom tiles, reaching up for the blue comb to no avail for he immediately lifts it high above his head. “Give me the comb!”

“Why don’t you dry your hair first before worrying about how you look?” He suggests with another laugh, leaning back on the sink when you start jumping over him for the comb. “It looks weirder when you try combing it down while it’s still wet.”

You groan when he starts taunting you by waving the comb in his hands, eventually giving up to stand back and cross your arms in annoyance. “I’m so—I just feel so iffy about this haircut, that’s all!”

“Well, that’s pep squad for you—but you already know that.” He shrugs, finally putting the comb down behind him in exchange for the orange towel you abandoned a while back to obsessively comb down your bangs. “Anyway, the bangs are the least of your worries. Aren’t you guys dyeing your hair on Friday?”

“Yeah,” You sigh in frustration, lifting a hand up to rub your temple. “Our costumes department is insane, I’m telling you.”

“Try our costumes department.” Minho retorts, throwing the towel over your damp hair after. “Though we’re doing a Michael Jackson-inspired routine, the costumes still need to have our school colors. Imagine all the black and gold and the make-up we’ll have to do for one part—“

You manage to crack a smile at this as you now busy yourself with drying your hair, making Minho chuckle in front of you as well. “Ah, right. Isn’t Felix volunteering for your costumes this year, though? Why don’t you approach him if you’re so bothered?”

“Then you’ll have to see Jeongin for your hair.” He points out.

“Jeongin? Right, nevermind, then. The kid’s scary when he’s in his element.” You huff, your hand on your temple then going up to your bangs. “I’ll just have to live with this for the next 1.5 years at most, I guess.”

“Then that’s settled.” Minho shrugs for the second time, tsking after once he notices your slow pace. Taking a step forward, you then catch a glimpse of Minho picking up your hair dryer from the other side of the sink counter from the corner of your eye before plugging it on the nearest wall socket. “You’re so slow! We’re watching a movie, remember? I don’t want water dripping on the couch.”

Swiftly, you elbow his stomach when he moves to your side. “Well, I’ll have to let you know that hair doesn’t dry that quickly when you’ve bleached it twice.”

“You could’ve been a little quicker about it if you weren’t so focused on your bangs.” He scolds, carding his fingers through your hair before pointing the noisy hairdryer on you and starting with your newly-cut bangs. “What even is the reason behind the red hair, anyway?”

“It’s our school colors, dumbass.” You remind him with a scoff, removing the towel on top of your head and moving it to the opposite side of where Minho is currently working. “Naeun actually managed to find a supplier with the exact same shade of red our school uses, it’s kind of cool.”

“Not like anyone would recognize it on compet.” Minho pouts. “Green would’ve been funnier. Isn’t that your other school color?”

“Excuse you, we have one of the biggest crowds every year? Plus, green would look too wacky. It could be distracting with our theme.”

“As if people from your school go around recognizing that specific shade of red.”

“I’m going to fucking hit you with this towel.” You glower, only making him laugh as he nonchalantly guides you by your shoulders to move closer to the hairdryer’s socket. “Let’s just see who’s going to be laughing when I see you in costume on compet.”

“Please, I’ll rock the outfit so much you’ll forget you even said that.” Your roommate rolls his eyes, turning you around so he can work on the back of your head. “What will you be wearing, by the way?”

Minho steals a glance at you from the mirror, raising his eyebrows slightly, and you answer, “Still the same but in black and a new design.”

“So...top and tights?” He asks and you nod eagerly, your hair almost slipping right through his fingertips.

“You’ll love the designs.” You muse, picking up the blue comb once again to use on the dried parts of your head. ”Naeun designed them really well!”

“A bit of a basic choice for your second to last college competition, don’t you think?” He teases, making you reach up behind you to smack his arm. “Didn’t you guys do the same thing but in navy last year?”

“Call it basic again when I take it home, I dare you.” You retort before chuckling along with him. “Are you done?”

“Almost there.” He answers automatically, slowly inching along to your other side while gently moving you closer to the wall socket and turning you around to face the opposite wall by your shoulders. “Your hair’s so hard to dry.”

“I didn’t even ask for your help.” You point out. “You just barged in here to clown my bangs.”

“Yeah, then I realized that that’s what’s taking you so long that we can’t watch our Sunday movie.” Minho huffs, finally reaching your other side to dry the last strands of your hair. “I’m being a good Samaritan for once, you should at least say thank you.”

You giggle, nodding teasingly. “Right, right. Thank you, Minhooo!” You tease, knowing very well in your almost 5 years of living with him how rare these moments indeed are. “So...done?”

After a long pause, Minho turns the hairdryer off and takes out the plug from the wall socket behind you before taking a step back away from you. “Yup, done.” He affirms, running his index finger through your bangs horizontally once with a giggle. “Your bangs are so funny.”

You frown at him, smacking his arm for the third time tonight before turning around to tidy up everything you’ve used. “I hate you.”

But your roommate only pats your head in response before taking another step back and heading to the bathroom door. “I’ll set up the movie now!” He says as he walks away, glancing back at you with a smile before crossing the other side of the open door. “Hurry up, okay?!”

“Take the hoodie down! Take the hoodie down!” Jisung and Minho mischievously chant by your shoe racks at the entrance once you arrive home from training at the end of the week. The two hold Soonie and Doongie respectively in front of them for emphasis, lifting the cats up and down as if they were holding banners to a sports game. “Take the hoodie down! Take the hoodie down!”

You only roll your eyes at the two as you discard your shoes properly next to them, patting Soonie and Doongie’s heads affectionately then smacking the side of Minho’s head. “Move out of the way, losers.” You command instead with a wave of your hand and a tired giggle, the two laughing along and obligingly stepping aside for you to hang your gym bag up on the metal hooks right behind them. “And Jisung, why are you still here? It’s 9 PM.”

“We’re finishing our game tonight and I wanted to see your new hair!” He answers in his defense, putting Soonie down when Minho does with Doongie. “Now, take the hoodie down! Take the hoodie down!”

Taking out your plastic bag of used clothes and empty tumbler out of your gym bag after, you sigh in defeat and remove your hoodie. “Fine, fine, fine, there.”

Your roommate and his best friend both erupt in whistles and cheers at your bright red hair in response.

“Oh damn!” Jisung exclaims more dramatically and pats your shoulders in approval, ruffling your hair after. By your socked feet, Soonie meows enthusiastically as he tries climbing up your leg. “Look, even Soonie likes it!”

A small step behind the younger boy, you see your roommate with a much cooler reaction, smirking at you and mouthing, “Pretty,” with a wink before vocally adding, “It’s not so bad,” when Jisung then turns to him and asks him what he thinks. “Y/N’s had far worse hairstyles before.”

“I’m going to shove my clothes down your throat.” You threaten him with a chuckle, holding your bundle of used clothes higher as if you were going to throw it towards him. “Anyway, you’ve seen my hair now so let me through, I still have to sort these out and wash up.”

"You have dinner on the table, too, so eat before you go to bed.” Minho adds, pointing to the open doorway down the hall leading to your kitchen.

“Did you cook?”

“Take-out.” Minho answers plainly before gesturing for the three of you to move to the living room. You and Jisung follow him down the hallway. “Pizza and wings.”

Meanwhile, Jisung pouts at you as he links his arms with yours. “Ya, Y/N, you’re not going to watch our stream?”

“Maybe some other time.” You frown, your tiredness slowly coming back now that your friends have naturally stopped joking around. “I’m really sleepy.”

“Practice was that harsh?” Jisung asks next, stopping you right in the middle of the living room before you could proceed further to the left of the hallway to your room. Minho, on the other hand, walks ahead of you and proceeds to plop down on the sofa to set up their game once again. “Jeongin told me you’re changing the choreography a bit.”

“Seungkwan injured his foot really bad so we’re adjusting for alternatives in case he doesn’t recover in time.” You nod sadly, scratching your head in frustration. “And he’s my one of my bases for most stunts, including the exhibition, so I’m making the most adjustments.”

“Oh,” Jisung muses in realization, pausing a bit before another smile graces his features as he then lifts your hoodie back up to your head. “we should play quietly, then, right Minho?”

Minho only nods at this without even sparing a glance back at you.

“Yup, we’ll try to be quiet!” Jisung promises again, his grin growing bigger. “Sleep well, then, Y/N!”

“Hm, thanks, goodnight to you, I guess.” You greet him back, looking over his shoulder to see Minho glancing back up at you. “Goodnight Minho.”

Your roommate sweetly waves goodnight to you before turning mischievous by snickering and pointing at your red hair again. You roll your eyes and quietly threaten him with your clothes again in response before bidding him and Jisung another goodnight, proceeding to your room after.

Surprisingly, the two rowdy boys kept to their word after you’ve finished dinner and mostly whispered yelled through the walls of the living room for the rest of the night, mostly Minho scolding Jisung for cursing at their game and reminding him to quiet down for you.

week 2 of 4

You come home from Thursday practice two hours later than usual and completely drained, trudging down the entrance hallway of your shared apartment to the rustling of your used clothes and the obnoxious empty noises of your tumbler that quickly alerts Minho and his three cats of your presence. Excitedly greeting you from the kitchen area, Minho looks up at you from feeding Soonie, Doongie, and Dori under your dining table and waves at you, his smile immediately faltering into a confused one when he sees your frown. “Hey. Are you okay? Why are you late?” He points out with a nervous chuckle. “You could’ve just called me to pick you up.”

You don’t answer, opting instead to tiredly settle on the seat nearest to his side and resting your arms and head down on the table, missing the dinner set Minho prepared for you by a hair as you do so. “I missed the first bus home because I was distracted from being so pissed off at this newbie being a creep during practice.” You scoff as nonchalantly as you can. “It’s okay now, tho—”

“What?!” Before you could even finish your sentence, however, Minho surprisingly leaves his cats’ side, moving over to sit next to you to the side where your head is limply tilted. “Who’s this guy? What did they do?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat at the sudden rise in Minho’s tone and then see him instinctively scooting away in response, an attempt to give you space in case you’re uncomfortable. “Do you remember Park Joon? The guy I’ve told you before who’s been hitting on me and some of my teammates since he got in the team?” You start off after and you see your roommate following you along again, this time propping an elbow up on the table and nodding along. You also see him open his mouth to speak before closing it again, gesturing for you to continue. “Coach picked him to be Seungkwan’s replacement for the stunts and we practiced our choreography for exhibition today after team practice.

“It was fine, at first, he adjusted quickly to filling in for Seungkwan and all—until in one of our final stunts, he started groping me inappropriately that my other teammates had to stop immediately once they noticed and told our coach about it.”

"What?! What the fuck?!” Minho reacts with furrowed eyebrows and a scowl on his face. Sitting up properly now, he then worriedly asks, “W-What did—what did Coach Im do?”

You sigh, lifting up your head up after as you tiredly prop your own elbow up to mirror him. “Coach was furious that she immediately had him kicked out of practice without even hearing his side.“ You answer shakily, carding your fingers through your hair. “She also said that she’ll report him to admin after so we won’t be hearing about the guy until graduation...”

In front of you, Minho releases a breath you didn’t even notice he’s been holding as you speak, cautiously moving his chair towards you again and patting your back comfortingly. “That’s...fuck, I’m sorry you had to go through that...I’m glad Coach Im kicked him out after. Fuck...” He mirrors your frown, albeit sadder than your frustrated one. “Are you—I mean, do you want me to get you something? Do you need anything? I—”

“I’m fine, Minho, just annoyed now that we have to adjust everything again.” You huff, your voice shaking just slightly that Minho almost misses it.

“The choreography’s the least of your worries now, that fucking creep just harassed you.” Minho points out softly and cautiously, meeting your eyes before hesitantly stroking your hair. “I swear, if I was there, I would’ve—”

You shake your head immediately, cutting him off with what you could muster up as an assuring smile. “Seriously...it’s fine. I’m fine—still a bit shaken but I’m kind of comforted that he got kicked out for it and that Jeongin and the others stood up for me.” You add with more conviction now because of Minho’s words. “Please don’t do anything stupid about this for me. I’m so over it right now, trust me.”

“Really? You promise?” He asks you to which you nod back in response. “Well, if you say so but—do you need anything else right now or later? I can commute with you again if you want me to or something...”

You shake your head at his last offer. “No, no, that’s really too much of a hassle for you. It’s fine. To be honest, I just want to sleep and not think about it anymore right now.” You pout after, scooting your chair closer to the meal you’ve accidentally forgotten throughout this whole conversation. “Thank you for listening and worrying, though, Minho. I really appreciate it.”

Your roommate opens his mouth again to retort but is suddenly interrupted by Dori brushing up against your legs and purring at you. “What’s that Dori?” Your roommate asks the cat in his usual pouting tone instead, lifting the cat up and placing it on his lap. Dori, however, only fixes his gaze on you and purrs again. “Hm? You want to go to Y/N and make them feel better? Okay, okay.”

He then carefully sets the cat on your lap, standing up after to affectionately stroke your hair again. “If that’s all then eat first before you wash up and go to bed.” He then returns to his original thought before going back to the other two cats. “And do tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.” You muster up another smile to which Minho returns with a smile of his own. “Thanks again, Minho.”

He only hums, briefly leaning forward as if to encase you in a hug before hesitating last minute and turning his attention back to his cats. “Eat your food.”

The next day, Minho surprises you by waking up earlier and following you all the way to the bus stop with his own gym bag and backpack.

“It’s Friday.” You point out as your bus approaches.

He nods nonchalantly, turning to you with a smile. “Yeah, I can tell. The cafe across the street’s selling mint frappe until 10 AM.”

“No, I mean,” You shake your head. “isn’t your first class at 2 PM today?”

“Yeah?” He answers in a tone that pretends to be oblivious of where you’re taking this conversation.

“Then why are you all dressed up with your things?” At this the bus approaches, opening right in front of you and Minho. Before you could even step in the public vehicle, Minho beats you to it and takes your hand in his, pulling you along.

“I’m meeting up with Jisung to study.” He answers belatedly to you as he swipes his bus card, stepping aside after for you to follow.

“Bullshit.” You mumble under your breath, mirroring his actions anyway and following him to the seats right behind the driver as the bus roars back to life. “You’re in different programs, Minho.”

“You could just say ‘thank you’ and get it over with“ He teases, nudging your shoulder with his before smoothly slinging an arm over you. “And I really am meeting up with Jisung today, just after his 10 AM. He’s taking a science elective this semester and he needs help with it.”

You tilt your head towards him, seeing his anticipating expression. With an amused chuckle, you give him a side hug instead, burying your face in the material of his black hoodie and catching him off-guard. “Thank you.”

He hugs you back with a laugh.

“I know what will make you feel better!” Your roommate announces as he barges in your room unannounced the following Saturday afternoon, plopping down at the foot of your bed as you work on your term papers on the other side. “Well, at least, Chan does since he was technically the one who suggested it.”

“I feel fine, though? What are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow at him, stealing glances over to him as you continue working.

Minho comically rolls closer to you, propping an elbow up on the mattress to stop and showing you his phone displaying his chat history with Chan. “Are you sure? Like well enough that you won’t even be bothered that Chan got us tickets to see the Hyunjin’s final game next Sunday?” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, snickering when your eyes widen.

Immediately, your fingers stop typing away on your keyboard and you look up at him in purse shock. “What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, leaning closer to his phone screen and squinting your eyes at the chain of messages exchanged between your two friends. “Seriously? Didn’t this game get sold out weeks ago?”

“Yeah but, you know, Chan has his socializing ways.” Your roommate shrugs, taking his phone back to his side to clasp his hands together. “So? What do we think?”

“Um, yeah, of course, let’s go!” You answer matter-of-factly, taking his phone and typing in your reply for emphasis. “I mean, you are taking me, right? This isn’t a joke?”

“Only if I can take the other ticket.” He winks, lifting his upper body higher from the mattress to rest his chin on top of your laptop screen. “So, yes?”

You nod enthusiastically with a giggle, making Minho jump up into a sit in joy.

“Clear your schedule for next Sunday, Y/N! We’re watching the finals!”

week 3 of 4

Coach Im distributes your finished costumes on your first practice of the week after her final reminders and announcements and you make sure to contain your excitement as best as you can on your commute home until after you’ve finished dinner in order to open it with an equally excited Minho.

Eagerly, your roommate now peers over your shoulder on the sofa after having hurriedly washed the dishes, holding Dori up to his chest as he does so.

“See? It’s so pretty!” You exclaim once you’ve taken everything out of the plastic wrapping, holding up your black fitted cropped top, lined with a complex geometric pattern in colors inspired by the pride flag, for your roommate and all of his three cats to see. “It came out really well!”

Minho nods in approval at the black spandex while Dori unconsciously mirrors him when you turn to the two. “The printing didn’t fuck up Naeun’s design on the first print for once.” He muses, making you chuckle. “It looks cool.”

“They took it to a different printing shop this time.” You clarify, laying down the top right next to a sleeping Doongie on the nearby coffee table before taking out the bottoms. “This material’s really nice, too. I tried it on with everyone a while back and the stretch is really nice.”

“I take that as I’ll see this costume being used in the gym after, then?” Minho jokes, earning him a jab on the elbow when he puts Dori down after. “What? So, pajamas?”

“You didn’t have to call me out like that!” You protest, leaning back on the couch and placing a passing Soonie on your lap. “I really like this costume.”

“Because you say that with all of your costumes!” Minho retorts, hovering Dori over your costume when the cat starts purring and tilting its head towards it.

“I happen to love everything my friends design.” You correct, chuckling at Dori who’s now escaped Minho’s grasp to sniff and snuggle into your clothes. “Now, when is that black and red vest coming in again?”

“It came today too but I won’t show it to you.” Your roommate sticks his tongue out at you, earning him a string of protests from you. “You’ll just have to see on compet day!”

“What? No! Unfair!” You pout.

“You’ll just have to see next week!” He insists anyway, laughing at your furrowed eyebrows and scowl. “I don’t want you getting too distracted with me when you should be focusing on memorizing your choreography, you scatterbrain.”

“Ya! Ugh, you’re so full of yourself!”

You find his vest in the laundry the following day, anyways, when you needed to retrieve one of your shirts from your laundry area. You make sure to tease him about it with a photo of you holding up his vest after and sending it to him through private chat.

“Ah, so mean!” He replies.

“Let’s go Hwang Hyunjin, kick some ass!” You yell as loud as you can in your seat amidst all the cheers for your friend echoing around the arena. Next to you, Minho laughs through his drink at your enthusiasm, your initial awkwardness at sitting on his university’s side of the audience for this volleyball game clearly gone now as you wildly wave your green balloon. “Wooh, go Hyunjin!”

“God, what would our friends from your uni say when they see you cheering for our team?” He chuckles once you’ve calmed down, adjusting your white hat as you settle back comfortably in your seat once again.

You roll your eyes at him, picking your Cola up from your respective cup holder and taking a sip. “Shut up, it’s not like I’m alone here.” You retort after, pointing at Changbin who’s with Jisung at the other end of the row. “Even Yeji’s somewhere in the crowd, too, supporting her cousin.”

“Still, it’s not everyday you’re on this side.” He argues back, scrunching up his face again when you get momentarily distracted by Hyunjin scoring another point for his team. “Ah, you’re so hyped today! How come you never cheer like this for me?”

“Because we’re in the same sport, Minho.” You laugh this time, catching his fake pout from the corner of your eye. “Besides, I cheer for you, too, just in a different way—woah, did you see that?! Woah, as expected of Choi Bomin!”

Minho couldn’t say anything else to you after as you easily become occupied by the heated game again, cheering mostly for Hyunjin and occasionally Sanha who’s on the opposing team. He patiently waits for you to turn your attention back to him anyway, which only takes 3 points on his university and 4 points on Sanha’s. “Why? So, I can’t ask you to wear my school’s shirt and things like that if ever?” He asks cheekily once he’s gotten your attention again.

You scoff against the heat rising up your neck. “W-What? Why? Are you giving them to me as pajamas?”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “No, I mean, while on compet.” He clarifies before gesturing over to his shirt you borrowed from him today with another pout. “It’s just that you borrowed my shirt to cheer on Hyunjin today. Can’t you do that next week for me too?”

You glance back at him incredulously, making him chuckle nervously. “If I want Jeongin to chop my head off and Seungmin to call me a traitor until awarding, then I might.” You scoff playfully, deepening his pout and puppy eyes. “Don’t pull that look on me! Where is this even coming from all of a sudden?”

“I just thought about it.” He shrugs, warming your face even more. “Can’t you really do it? I’ll even wear your shirt if I have to.”

“Ah, just say you think I look cute in your shirt and go.” You roll your eyes jokingly, your seemingly nonchalant disposition slowly crumbling down in front of him anyway. “Minho, your secret crush on me is kind of showing, you might have to watch out for yourself on that, ha.”

“So? What about it?” He mumbles under his breath, catching you off-guard without him meaning to.

“What?” Your eyes widen curiously.

“What?” He repeats, mirroring your expression in feigned innocence before his eyes slowly flit back to the game. “Oh hey, we scored again!”

“Lee Minho!”

“What?!” He chuckles, avoiding your gaze now as you suddenly switch roles with him cheering loudly for his university. “Go Hwang Hyunjin!”

One of your university shirts doesn’t come back to you from the laundry after that.

week 4 of 4

On the Saturday night before the competition, you skip your traditional sleepaway camp and senior send-off with your team to have a sleepover in your apartment living room with your roommate, setting up sleeping bags on the floor next to Soonie, Doongie, and Dori’s beds and queueing up old competition videos on your television. Minho, on the other hand, re-heats all of the remaining leftovers in your refrigerator and buys extra side dishes and drinks from the convenience store on the first floor of your building for dinner.

“What should we watch first?” You ask once you’ve finished eating and washing the dishes, the TV’s remote on your right hand while the other massages Dori’s head as the grey cat circles your feet. “Hm, Dori? What video do you want to dance to first?”

Minho then re-emerges from the kitchen, stretching his limbs as he approaches you before snatching the remote and answering for Dori, “I have just the video in mind!”

“Ya!” You glare at him, reaching up to retrieve the remote again but, as he always does, Minho immediately raises the device above his head as he scrolls down the folder of videos on the TV. “If you’re thinking about that vid, I’m going to—“

But Minho only laughs at you, quickly scrolling down the videos anyway against your attempts of stopping him until he finds your very first cheer dance routine at the bottom of the folder. “Here, found it!” He chuckles in victory after a struggle, throwing the remote on the side and pulling you close to the first part of the paired dance that serves as the choreography’s intro. “Let’s dance!”

“Nooo!” You protest, turning your eyes away from the screen as you see yourself in your Freshman year, dancing to a Jungle-themed routine, while Minho only cackles in your misery, following the steps precisely as he spins and twirls you on time before letting go.

“No, you have to do it with me!” He insists as the choreography now forces him to part with you, his gaze alternating between you and the screen. “Come on, Y/N!”

You groan under his anticipating gaze, following him and the video along after a pause in utter defeat.

“Why are you so embarrassed about this routine? You looked cute here!” He points out as you now do the group jumps, easily finding you in the video since you’re often at the center. “Besides the teased hair and the amount of black eyeshadow on your make-up, of cour—“

“I tripped the most on this routine!” You remind him just as you do trip on the way to being lifted in the video. “See?”

“You were a 1st year then, that’s totally understandable.” He dismisses anyway with a wave of his hand, the two of you stopping to watch the first sequence of lifts. “You remember when I almost fucked up my solo on the same compet because I couldn’t remember the steps towards the end?”

“Yeah but you improvised—“

“And Coach Kim made sure to have me sit out the Nationals after.” Minho rolls his eyes. The two of you then go back to dancing, laughing along to the steps you find silly and scaring your three cats by pretending to lift your hands up as if preparing to do tumbles. “Point is, we’re much better cheer dancers now than before! Look, this routine’s even easier to follow now than when you were practicing this with me 4 years ago.”

“If you put it that way, then, I guess...” You muse out loud until another thought crosses your mind. “We should play that video of yours next, then! That was the exhibition, right?”

“Fine, fine.” He sighs teasingly. “but first let’s finish this! Ah, 6 minutes is so long when it’s so focused so much on dancing!”

You then spend the rest of the night dancing to your shared old competition videos until you eventually felt sleepy (and the old couple living right under your unit started banging on the floor, their ceiling, with an umbrella).

“Kids, whatever canoodling it is you’re doing, you need to stop, it’s 2 AM!” Mr. Lee yells from his window right below yours as you and Minho fall on your sleeping bags tiredly, making the two of you laugh.

“Who even uses the word ‘canoodling’ these days?” You scoff in between uncontrollable fits of giggles, rolling over to your stomach and lazily crawling over to your pillow. “And they think we’re doing something weird again! Mr. and Mrs. Lee are sweet and all but sometimes, their minds...”

Next to you, Minho clutches his stomach as he laughs. “Why?” He smirks playfully, sitting up and scooting over to his own sleeping bag. “They’re just being old people. Does it bother you that much? Do you actually want to do something weird with me?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust up at him hovering over you, pushing him away when he tries tickling your sides. “Ew, Minho! No, get away from me!”

A few hours later, you ended up having to deal with Minho sprawled all over your sleeping area and refusing to wake up at exactly 9 AM to prepare and head out of the apartment.

“Minho.” You call his name firmly, poking his arm draped over your waist. “Come on, you big baby, or the cats are gonna eat you for breakfast.”

“Nooo, 5 more minutes.” He whines tiredly, unconsciously snuggling up to your neck when Doongie and Soonie pass by his face, slapping their tails across his cheeks. “I’m so tired from last night.”

“I told you not to put on that video of yours from last season.” You scold, finally managing to lift his hand and kick his leg away from you. “Whatever, I’m feeding the cats. You get up and cook breakfast, okay?”

“In a bit.” He waves you off, rolling over to his stomach and grabbing the nearest cat, in his case Doongie.

Minho was right in that he really works his team’s outfit even when he’s not fully fond of it, you realize six hours later when you meet again at the competition’s venue and see him for the first time in his full gold top, black slacks, and shoes. He winks at you from across the room as you untie the knots of your purple, red, and yellow pom poms, gesturing to his outfit after and mouthing, “Like it?”

You wordlessly flash him a thumbs up in approval before showing him his shirt you’re wearing over your costume as he made you promise over breakfast, making him giggle over the hand fan he holds up to his face before focusing back on his conversation with Chan who’s filming an interview with him and the other captains of the participating teams as a courtside reporter.

Seungmin, preparing for his own pre-competition interview on the side, then takes the latter as his cue to sit next to you on the benches. “Minho scares me.”

“Minho always scares you.” You chuckle, elbowing his side and sparing him a quick glance before going back to your work. “What did you do this time, Minnie? Hit him with your cue cards?”

But your team’s persistent courtside reporter only shakes his head from the corner of your eye, glancing up ahead of you once again before repeating, “No, seriously, he was glaring at Eunwoo a while ago when you were talking to him and now he’s all smiley and winking at you now that you’re alone. It kind of scares me and I’m not the one being looked at.”

You whip your head over to the same direction, easily spotting Minho again whose eyes immediately soften up at your gaze gaze before smirking and winking again at you. Turning back to Seungmin after, you shrug and say, “He looks fine to me. He‘s always greasy in public by default.”

The younger boy only sighs in defeat, rubbing his temples as he replies, “I don’t know what’s going on in your home life but I’m saying this as a concerned friend and bystander: get a room.”

“What?!”

“Do everyone a favor, it’s getting annoying.” He points out, quickly glancing behind you once again before shuddering at Minho’s glare that’s now directed to the other boy he just mentioned. “And we all seriously feel bad for Eunwoo; guy was just asking you for eyeliner.”

“We’re not dating, Minnie, oh my God!” You smack his arm in disbelief, taking a quick scan around the room after to make sure that no one heard your blabbermouth of a friend. Lowering your voice, you then add, “But did he really? Glare at Eunwoo, I mean?”

“Plotted five different murder scenarios and everything.” Seungmin affirms. “Felix and Chan were texting me from across the room while it was all happening and they both said they could see smoke come out of Minho’s ears. Even Yeji was scared and she was just passing by to see Chaeryeong.”

“You guys are delusional.”

“We are tired of this dumb sexual tension.” He defends, gesturing to himself then to Chan and Hyunjin from afar then to Minho and, finally, to your shirt with Minho’s university logo on the print. “Anyway, I also heard from some of the other reporters that he made Jisung and Hyunjin hold something for him today when their team came in. What if it’s for you?”

You raise an eyebrow, shaking your head. “No? He didn’t bring anything weird to the bus stop this morning and I’m pretty sure he went straight to his uni after dropping me off at my stop.” You point out before exhaling another sigh and patting the younger boy’s shoulder. “You know what I think? I think looking after your significant other is taking a toll on you. Are you sure you don’t need anything? A break from courtside reporting maybe?”

Seungmin groans. “Ah, whatever. You two figure this out before someone actually gets an idea to shove you two into an actual room—especially Jisung and Hyunjin!” He concludes before noticing the sudden commotion to your left, eyes widening at realizing that the reporters are being called for their opening spiels now. “Oops, I gotta go, crowd check!”

“You better, you’re starting to talk weird!” You smack his elbow playfully, standing up when he does and bidding him goodbye. “Hype up our crowd and break a leg out there!”

“And you do well on the floor later!” He smiles back, waving goodbye at you before joining Chan and the other reporters to the exit leading to the main floor. “Don’t forget to drink water!”

“Will do, capt.!” And with that, Seungmin runs off to open the program, the empty space next to you quickly getting occupied by Minho after who points at your shirt cheekily.

“You look cute in my shirt.” He comments, adjusting the hat he wears similar to Michael Jackson’s. Fortunately, the lighting backstage is not as bright as the floor’s that his top only glimmers slightly in front of you as he moves.

“You just saw me wear this last Sunday.” You deadpan against another wave of heat rising up to your cheeks, your hands fiddling unconsciously with the hem of your shirt. “It was getting cold just wearing my costume.”

“What did Jeongin and Seungmin say?” He asks, gesturing his head over to the exit where Seungmin just passed through a while back.

“Jeongin just laughed and Seungmin said—ah, nevermind.” You shake your head towards the end, piquing Minho’s interest even further anyway.

“What? What?”

“Nothing! It was nothing.” You bluff with another shake of your head, pushing Minho away with your pom poms when he teases you by leaning his face closer to yours. “Anyway, when will you perform?”

“We’re coming out third for the team and I think our exhibition members are performing fourth. You?”

“First, actually—for the team, I mean.” You frown. “Then we’re last for exhibition.”

“We can watch each other then! I’ll cheer for you from the front seats, the boys have front row seats out there near your uni’s bleachers.”

“Don’t you need to stay back here and, I don’t know, do captain stuff?” You ask next.

“And miss out on your performance? No way! The kids can take care of themselves for 6 minutes.” He shrugs with a dismissive hand. “Why? Don’t you want me to cheer you on? I brought your shirt with me.”

“So you took my shirt!”

“You couldn’t possibly think the neighbors would.” He rolls his eyes playfully, slinging an arm over your shoulder and directing the two of you to the exit along with the others for the opening rites. “So will you come out and watch me too?”

“It’s not like I have another choice. I’m already wearing your shirt to a compet.” You reiterate, making him smile. “As long as you don’t take unflattering photos of me again.”

“Nope, I’ve learned my lesson already.” He grins mischievously, making you smack his arm. “I already have Hyunjin on that job—maybe Changbin too, he brought a tripod and everything to film today.”

“I’m kicking you out of the house when we get home.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared!”

“Shut up.”

Minho cheers you on during your performance, anyway, holding red and green balloons and your shirt, as if a banner, next to Changbin, Jisung, and Hyunjin who all hold different colors of balloons and even more diverse slogans flashing on their phones as well. “Go Y/N!” He yells whenever you have to perform a stunt or dance at the center, jumping up and down his seat and receiving confused looks from the people in their bleachers who aren’t familiar with the two of you.

“Minho’s cheering for you again.” Jeongin snickers quickly as he catches you from a lift, making you discreetly pinch his arm under you.

“Don’t even—“ You sigh, hopping off of your teammates and proceeding to the next formation.

Still, Jeongin bothers you anyway as you perform a series of jumps before kneeling down on the mats. “I just wanted to say it’s cute but pretend that didn’t come from me.” He mumbles against the loud music next to you. “Will you come out and cheer him on too?”

“You already know I will.” You sigh, clasping your hands together once it’s time to stand up again. “Will you come too?”

“I’m sitting with Chan and Seungmin!” He says before parting ways with you. “Sit with us!”

And you do, wearing Minho’s shirt again over your costume once it’s his team’s turn to perform while you hold a black and gold balloon that Chan teaches you quickly how to wave around in the way their university does in every performance. “Go Minho!” You all cheer at the same time from the courtside reporters’ area, making the said pep squad captain turn to your direction as he waits for his cue from behind a prop coffin akin to Michael Jackson’s Thriller.

Minho waves at you shyly in response, prompting the other boys to tease you for the duration of the his solo.

“Get a room!”

“Seungmin!”

The cheer dance program lasts for almost 2 hours with the team routine, the exhibition from select members where you participated (and received too much yells from your friends on different sides of the arena), and the awarding where you end up placing 1st runner-up on the team and 1st place on the exhibition while Minho snatches the Champion title for his team among all of the awards they were giving out.

By 8 PM when the program officially ends, your body is already sore from performing twice but you come out to the mats once again, anyway, to take photos with your friends.

“Okay, everyone, say cheese!” Naeun exclaims, pressing the timer on her camera before joining your group, easily climbing up your friend group’s improvised pyramid.

“Cheese!” The camera snaps photos of you and all of your friends from different universities involved in the cheer dance in quick succession, Minho teasing you from below halfway and pretending to drop your foot in his hands.

“There! I think we got it.” Seungmin points out once the camera’s snapping noise stops, standing up from kneeling in front with Chan, Yeeun, and Chaeryeong to check. “Alright, it’s good! Season 103 is done! Finally!”

Your group erupts in cheers as you and the other fliers are carefully caught back and helped back down on the mats while the courtside reporters do a group hug and snap more photos, this time on Yeeun’s phone where they started doing poses resembling their university mascots. You fall smoothly on Minho and Jeongin’s arms, hopping off easily and thanking Jeongin.

“What about me? Hm?” Minho pouts once Jeongin’s dragged away by Felix and Chenle to take more photos, carding his fingers through your bright red hair. “You could at least say thank you.”

You look up at him and snicker, elbowing his side. “Thank you, Minhooo. Happy?”

“Better.” He smirks before twisting his upper body halfway to turn behind you. When you follow his action with your gaze, your then see Changbin and Hyunjin jogging over to you with your trophies and a large bouquet of sunflowers and roses. “I got you something by the way—well, Changbin and Hyunjin bought then I paid them or else they’ll get tissues in their mouths again.”

“Wha—?” You eye the flowers as they approach in pure shock, your eyes widening even more when Changbin and Hyunjin only send you knowing smiles and winks before running away, cheering Minho on as they escape to your other friends. “W-What? W-Why this all of a sudden?”

Minho chuckles at your reaction, passing you your trophy from the exhibition category while he holds his from the team category with the bouquet in one hand. “I just thought that...it’s the end of the season—our last season so what if I—what if I finally asked you out properly?” He explains, growing more sheepish as he explains further while he then transfers the bouquet in his free hand and thrusts the fragile gift towards you. “Felix and Jeongin suggested that I make it more grander with an after-compet performance or something but I know that’s not your type so I got you flowers instead since I know you’ll win something either way.”

“O-Oh.” You muse in your speechlessness, catching a glance of your mutual friends now crowding together from a distance and holding up their phones to record Minho’s confession. Around you, even a few passersby have also momentarily stopped to look, equally as surprised knowing your infamous relationship with your somewhat rival in these competitions. “Y-You’re—you’re asking me out.”

“That’s the plan.” He shrugs with another laugh, grinning even wider when you slowly take the flowers in your own hands to smell the flowers. “If not, then we can totally just pretend I bought you the flowers as congratulations for winning the exhibition catego—hey, woah!”

You shake your head with a smile, having already gathered your thoughts, and pull him into a hug with your free hand, effectively cutting him off and making everyone around you cheer. “Of course, I’d go out with you, dumbass.” You answer his unspoken question, making him smile over your shoulder and hug you back tightly. “Anyway, I’m too lazy to kick you out of the apartment.”

“Ya!”

“I’m just kidding!” You then pull away slightly after, tiptoeing up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for the flowers—and also maybe for assuming that I’m going to win something.”

“You always win something, anyway—even if it’s not always the team category because you can never beat me to that in this competition.” He teases, earning him another smack on the arm. “You did win my heart.”

“Ugh, Minho, gross!” You scrunch up your nose, feigning disgust and making him laugh as he dips down to kiss you. “Please never say that in front of my face ever again, we still have Nationals at the end of the semester!”

429 notes · View notes

raisingsupergirl · 5 years ago

Text

My Supernatural Courage, pt. 1

*Author’s Note: Since writing this, I’ve had a thought, and I’m mulling it over. It might change my stance on things. It might not. Regardless, proceed, dear reader, to better understand where I’m coming from and where I may end up.*

I've been nervous a lot lately. I think everyone has. Not scared. Just nervous—uncertain. I've been nervous about the corona virus. I've been nervous about maintaining my hours at work. I've been nervous because I overcommit. I've been nervous because this past weekend I had to give a speech in front of my freemason brothers and had to play music in front of my church family. And, most of all, I've been nervous about the widespread civil unrest. But the weird thing is, even though national tensions seem to be on the rise, I'm finally starting to achieve some inner peace. Not because I've reached some sort of new normal or because I've given up in some way, but because my frayed nerves weren't actually about the civil unrest at all. They were about my own inner battle. And it took a bunch of local hillbillies to finally set my mind at ease.

If you've followed with me for long, you know that I stay pretty busy. A few weeks ago, I posted about how I didn't have time to truly commit to the conversation regarding ALM vs BLM. The week after that, I posted about not being ready to die because I still have "stuff to do." Well, even though I knew this past week would be crazy busy, I had one request for Father's Day weekend—I wanted to do nothing. And nothing is what I did. My family spent Saturday at the waterpark, nothing but fun and sun. And then we went out to my mom's for dinner on Sunday. That's it. No blogging. No editing. No mowing the grass. Nothin'. And it was amazing, not just because I needed a breath, but because I needed a moment to think. Creatives know that it's essential to recharge every so often. And after I took Father's Day weekend off, I had newfound clarity on, well, a lot of things.

Like I said, the following week came with its own stresses. Not only did I have a ton of editing to do along with practicing songs for the upcoming weekend's church worship team, but that Thursday night, I was to be installed as my masonic lodge's master for the upcoming year. It's been five years in the making—five years of growth, learning, mistakes, and patience. I've learned so much about what it means to be a man in that time. The core masonic principles are brotherly love, relief, and truth, and it's principle duties are to be, "diligent, prudent, temperate, and discreet." And as I said in my speech last Thursday night, masonry is a confirmation of the men we've always been and a reminder of the men we want to be. It doesn't forge us, but it does sharpen us. And as I dwelt on those principles the week leading up to our officer installation, an inner peace settled over me. But, unfortunately, as I said before, it took a bit of a slap in the face by a really ugly counter protest in a nearby town to get me there.

Growing up and living in central Missouri, you'd think I would be used to racism. And I guess I am, but only in the, "Oh, look, a black guy. How about that?" sort of way, which I guess isn't really racism, but I'm also not surprised when I see someone raise an eyebrow at an interracial couple (I also won't deny that I've heard plenty of racist jokes in my day, but I'm not going to get into the nuances of political correctness, Mel Brooks, and South Park). Again, I've always seen it as lack of exposure more than actual racism, and while I've known there were hardcore racists living amongst us, I guess it's just been an out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. But those blinders were ripped off this last week.

There was a BLM rally in a town about thirty minutes from my house. And, as you'd expect, there were plenty of people who showed up with "White Lives Matter" and "Blue Lives Matter" posters. Which is fine. As I said last week, we live in a free country, and our diverse viewpoints make up the spirit of this huge country. But this rally was pretty awful. First, there were local storeowners standing on their roofs with rifles, looking down on the protestors. I guess I get it. Protect your house, and all that. But, geez, was it really necessary to have your weapons shouldered and at the ready. And, obviously, that increased tensions, leading the BLM and ALM folks to move from "peaceful" to a little more verbally aggressive. And that, unfortunately, led a few of the more, ehem, outspoken anti-protestors to (and I almost hesitate to say it) act like monkeys and pantomime lynchings.

I've seen the pictures. I've heard the reports. The BLM protestors weren't innocent. They threw out racial slurs and accusations. But they didn't resort the that level of debased scum. And I don’t use that phrase lightly. Thinking about it makes me want to spit. Or punch someone. It's no different than making sexual jokes to someone who was molested as a child.

It's easy to write that horrible display off as a small, idiotic percentage of the community. It's easy to sigh and move on, remembering that most people aren't that way. But… some people are! They exist in my community! And those people infect the rest of us. The more they talk, the more they normalize actual (even if it's subtle) racism. Thankfully, their public actions have called them out. They've done much more harm to their cause than good. And that event was at catalyst for me. Well, that and one other.

This next turning point was a small one. It was a simple comment by a black lady. She responded to an "ALM" Facebook post. It was simple and humble. "Everyone already knows that all lives matter but everyone don't agree that black lives matter and if it is never said then we will never matter. So because I say black lives matter it's because I wanna be just as important as you would be to the world…"

Yes, I already knew this obvious truth. Yes, I'd heard it a hundred times. But the way she said it, the fact that it came from her, and the timing of it in my life just made things click. BLM isn't just a social movement with an agenda (which I tend to tie together with human imperfection, various other motives, and some of the rioting). It’s a statement. And it's a simple statement, at that. It doesn't have to be political or loaded. "Black lives matter," I said with a smile and a nod as I waited for her to cross the street. Just imagining that scenario makes me happy. Is it wrong to open a door for a woman, wave a tattooed biker on in front of us at a stoplight, or pay for the meal of someone richer or poorer than us? No. Such acts don't relinquish any of our own self-worth or threaten our futures. They're simple, humane kindnesses that make the world a better place. They're acknowledgements that we are a diverse world, and it's neat to remind specific peoples that they are important, not just to us, but to the Most Holy Lord God.

Oops. I'm sure I lost some of you just now. And that's okay, but stick with me. I'm a Christian, through and through. Christ is a part of my everyday life, and one thing that I've reminded myself of for a long time is that every person I meet is a unique child of God. Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan, and Freemasonry reminds us by proclaiming, "Every human being has a claim on your kind offices. Do good unto all." And even though it took me a while to get here, I've found peace in those sentiments. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. And I'm not afraid in the slightest about the future.

When I hear about rioters pushing down statues, I'm reminded of Jesus overturning the moneychangers' tables in the temples. There are plenty of excuses to maintain the status quo, but none of them are really good ones. What are you afraid of? Losing our history? Really? I can still find MySpace comments I made fifteen years ago, and my mom still has pictures of me naked in the bathtub. We're not talking about destroying someone's personal property or threatening their lives (or livelihood). We're talking about a symbolic act of desperation. Was it smart? Or right? Or productive? Who knows, but it's nothing to freak out about!

White people, what are you afraid of? Seriously. Are you afraid that black people will enslave you? Are you afraid of economic collapse? Are your guns going to be taken from you? Your jobs? Your freedom of speech? I mean, c'mon. Even if all of those things did happen (which they won't), who cares!? … Okay, wait. I get it. Slaves care. I'm sure it sucks. But you know how black slaves survived in early American history? They relied on God! Remember the Jews? Christianity was literally born out of a nation of slaves! Oppression is woven into the story of humanity, start to finish. We're a broken world. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. The first shall become last, and the last shall become first. Are any of these ringing a bell?

Okay, sorry. I got a little worked up there. But I can't help it. Everyone is so afraid of losing stuff, and nobody is taking five seconds to ask why. Why, truly, are you alive? What are you trying to do? Okay, yes, I get the compulsion to protect your family and future generations. It's biological (which doesn't make it any less important). It's engrained within our race's perpetuation. But we are one race, and I’m sorry, but your family isn't the pinnacle of genetic, moral, and intellectual perfection for the human race. Your kid may have won the spelling bee, but he's not going to cure cancer.

So, ease up a little bit. Let the rest of the world have a little space. Do I agree with everything the BLM movement has been associated with? Of course not. And I never will, because there are a lot of people who hitch themselves to bandwagons, regardless of their own, personal motives. If rioters make the USA into Mad Max, well, then you'll finally be able to tell your wife, "I told you so" about all of the guns and ammo you've been buying over the years. If one truly evil civil rights activist rises up and turns us into a nation of white slaves, well, I guess we'll just have to focus in a little more on being kind to our neighbor, looking to the afterlife, and trusting in God to reward us for obeying his commandments. But more than likely, all of the extremists on both sides will be cut off from the herd, and the rest of us will (eventually) live in a slightly different-looking America than what it has been for the past couple centuries. That's the funny thing about time—the present eventually becomes history. We don't continue to live in it, and we don't forget it. We accept it, learn from it, and move on. Simple enough.

In the end, it's your choice. I've probably offended just about everyone with this post (but as usual, I did it in a super nice way, so good luck calling me out, jerk). But this has been my journey to peace with the situation. My family will live on. My nation will live on. Maybe we'll be blessed with earthly comfort, or maybe we'll be sharpened by trials and tribulations. But eternity waits for me, and while I still walk this earth, I'll have no problem praising and building up specific people and specific groups. Why? Because differences are what make people awesome, and I'm not afraid to remind them of it.

#equality #peace #finding peace #blm #alm #christianity #inner peace #civil unrest #protest

1 note · View note

theolddarkmachine · 7 years ago

Text

Kingdom- Chapter Seven

Gajeel has had the dream about dying for the blue haired girl for as long as he can remember. Which is weird, since he’s never met anyone with blue hair in his life.

Levy has always loved myths and legends. So much so, in fact, that she was currently getting her master’s in mythological studies.

What neither of them realized was that they were living a legend all their own.

AKA the one with a knight, a princess, and a curse that keeps bringing them together just to pull them apart.

Previous Chapters

AO3

Hey y’all! This is one of those chapters that has to exist to get us from point A to point B, which are my least fave to write tbh lol mainly because those kinds of chapters are the hardest for me to write -.- Anyway, I’m gonna be taking a week off from writing because 1) I wrote 60k words in September and ya girl needs a break lol and 2) Voltron S4 happens Friday so I wanna use my free time to binge XD im an adult i swear. ANYWAY, that being said, I’ll be sharing other writers’ fics for the week instead of working on anything myself! Kingdom will most likely be back around 10/20-10/23 time.

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

Almost as soon as the door to Gajeel’s complex slammed behind her, a searing pain shot through Levy’s skull, blinding her momentarily as it nearly knocked her down with its force. The brick of the entryway bit into the skin of her back as she stumbled back into it, the air whooshing out of her lungs in one loud gasp. Her hands found the stone pressed into her back, feeling the coolness from the Fall chilled air beneath her fingers as the pain settled into a thrumming ache.

A beat passed.

And then another.

Curious eyes watched as people walked by, interested enough to twist their necks as they went but not enough to become involved. It was the kind of faux concern that made the passerby feel like a good Samaritan for showing the most basic level of human compassion without actually doing anything. The feeling of it made her skin crawl.

“I’m never drinking again,” she moaned to no one in particular as she breathed in through her nose and slowly out through her mouth. Levy had never been one to get the textbook hangover, always sidestepping the nausea and headaches that almost always made Lucy turn into a recluse for at least a day. Of course, she’d also never really been one for drinking until she lost an entire chunk of her memory either. She groaned again as she fought back the shame of waking up in Gajeel’s room without any recollection of how she’d gotten there.

Unfortunately, there was always a first time for everything.

Several moments came and went as she regained her bearings, her breath finally settling out as the pain dulled but never fully subsided. Only after the city stopped spinning around her did Levy finally push out of the doorway, counting each step in an attempt to ground herself. It took several counted sets of 100 steps before she finally reached her own complex, the cool AC of the bright hallway freezing the sweat on the back of her neck that had accumulated from the walk. Her front door was a welcome sight as she stumbled towards it, swiftly sheathing the key in the lock as she pushed it open.

Before her lay a mess of cups, knocked over books, and discarded clothing. A nagging sense of alarm bubbled in her gut as she looked over the chaos that told the story of her night. The casual disarray didn’t align with the vague memories she held of her and Lucy as they’d spoke and drank, never once touching her bookcase. Even the clothes that she’d tried on had been laid out on her bed, waiting for her to return home and replace them on their hangers.

The pain that had rooted itself in the line between her temple and the base of her skull flared as she took it in, trying to match the scene before her with that of the scenes in her mind. It felt like a crime scene as opposed to a living room after a fun night of partying and the sense of foreboding didn’t escape her as her eyes swept the area. Pushing down the bitter bile that was raising in her throat, Levy shut the door behind her and dropped her keys on the small dish that sat on the shelf by her door.

I just don’t remember, that’s all, she thought to herself as she walked further into the room, eyes scanning the chaos as if she could pull answers from the scattered mess. The longer she looked, the easier it was for Levy to convince herself that the disorganization was just another piece of missing memory wiped away by alcohol. It was the only explanation that dulled the edge of the sharp unease cutting down her spine. With a resigned sigh, she walked through the living area and by her desk, gaze taking stock of the state of it, only to feel her pulse leap.

Levy stopped in her tracks, the dull ache in her temples roaring to life as she stared at the opened book of stories. Spread wide with its painted pages staring upwards, it sat otherwise undisturbed on her desk amongst her notebooks and writing utensils. Her limbs seized as her eyes traced over the wide span of the tome as she worked her way through the muddled thoughts of the night before once again.

She’d closed the book.

Levy could still hear the heavy thud of its leather cover closing over its ancient pages as if the sound was still echoing against the cream walls of her room. Even if she was missing a piece of what had happened that night before, Levy knew Lucy would never have allowed her to return to the book, the night partially born from the belief she was overworked.

Drawing closer to her desk and swallowing her heart as it beat its hummingbird rhythm in her throat. With each step forward, the pain at her temple ebbed away, chased from her by the stifling weight of exhaustion as if the very air around her was sucking the energy from her bones. It was a visceral thing, starting at her very core and working its way through her limbs until she ached with the numbing chill of it. Faltering, the chair at her desk met her as her legs gave out and plopped her onto the soft cushioning.

The portrait lay before her now, as vivid as the painting of the queen from the day before and filling her with the same sense of ominous dread. Thin black lines and swirling colors swirled across the alabaster page, moving together to create an intricate scene filled with such beauty and despair, it almost hurt to look at it. Laying on the ground of what looked like a castle room, was a black haired knight in onyx armor. The ruby of his eyes was bright, only challenged by the vivid scarlet of the blood that had spilled out beneath him from a gash that stood out on his armor just over where his heart had beat beneath the darkened steel. His head was cradled in the lap of a blue haired woman whose face was partially obscured by the azure strands that fell over it as she looked down at him. Garnet stained the sun colored dress she wore with macabre streaks.

Just beside the woman, right at her knee, was a blood stained dagger.

As she stared at it, the strange debilitating sensation racking against her insides fought with her will as she tried to keep her eyes trained on the image. It all looked so familiar. Prickling over her skin with the same demanding tingle of deja vu, Levy fought to reach out towards the memory that commanded to be remembered.

The world crackled and shifted around Levy as she pulled herself closer to the page. Her heart thumped in the base of her throat, angrily combating the tiredness that was threatening to sink her as she stared at the woman’s sorrow filled face. The thick, cloying taste of familiarity threatened to choke her as she tried to swallow it down and keep it locked behind her teeth. Her gaze slid from the woman to the knight’s blazing red eyes as she struggled to bring her hand up towards the painting. Levy’s eyelids grew heavier as she traced the outline of the couple with a shaking finger. The resemblance was striking, and she felt her lungs fighting against the cage of her ribs as she fought off the torpor that was sliding like thick concrete through her limbs. There was no doubt that the blue haired woman was the same as the one from her dream.

The same as her.

She stared at the painting’s downturned eyes, rivulets of tears cascading down her cheeks as her thin hand was frozen in a caress over the man’s face. Her own fingers trembled with the illustrated touch that she could almost feel against her own skin. A sadness crawled slowly into her chest, curling around her heart before evolving into a breath stealing, earth moving despair. Sobs for a heartache she didn’t even know rolled off her lips as tears blurred her vision, melting the blacks, blues and reds of the image together into a molten bruise.

He died. The stray thought flitted through her mind as the heavy cloud of fatigue weighed her down, guiding her head down onto the desk beside the book. He died in my arms.

Darkness was eating away at the edges of her vision as she ran the pad of her index finger over the grim expression on the knight’s face.

On Gajeel’s face.

As the shadows spilled over her sight, the distant sound of voices hummed in her ears. The paralyzing blanket of sleep settled over her as her eyes finally closed, the chatter increasing as she sunk into its inky depths. Before her senses faded completely, a single, heartbroken howl ripped through the darkness.

“Gajeel!”

***

“She’s pretty,” Lily said as he fixed Gajeel with his onyx stare. A strange light glittered in the depths of his eyes as he looked at him as if he could pull a response straight from him. Something about Lily’s interest felt wrong, a hidden agenda lurking underneath every word as he’d questioned him about the blue haired woman from the bar. Though they were best friends, Lily had never shown an interest in Gajeel’s personal affairs. He could count the number of times his brother had asked him specifically about his love life-- or rather, lack thereof-- on one hand.

One finger, in fact.

And it was when Lily had pushed his way into Gajeel’s apartment without so much as a hello. It had raised his hackles, as well as his guard, though he had let the man in all the same only to find himself on the receiving end of an inquisition. After dropping his heavy black jacket down onto the back of the couch, and settling himself into the soft leather, he’d made himself at home as Gajeel’s own personal interrogator. If he knew that this was what Lily had had in mind when he’d called him that morning, he wouldn’t have even answered the phone. He’d barely listened as his brother spoke, lost momentarily in the inky coloring that had stained the skin beneath Lily’s eyes as if he hadn’t slept at all.

He looks older, he’d thought to himself as he continued to speak, asking more and more questions about Levy.

A throbbing pressure blossomed between his ears as the visit went on, making him more irritable than usual as Lily continued to poke and prod him for answers. He told himself that was the reason he was giving Lily monosyllabic answers that were bitter on the tip of his tongue, and not because for the first time in his life, he distrusted Lily. If his brother had noticed the barely hidden suspicion that darkened his tone, he didn’t let on as he persisted with his insistent questioning.

You saved her from getting hit by a truck?

Who was driving it?

Did you stop it?

And you guys went on a date?

The last question was what broke him of his stoic stance, the words erupting from him before he could stop himself.

“You seem awfully interested, Lil,” Gajeel nearly spat as he fixed his brother with a scowl. His face stayed carefully blank at the angry remark, which only filled him with caustic apprehension. The feeling razed his insides and burned against his ribcage until there was nothing left but stinging nerves.

You have to make sure she gets home safe. Lily’s voice from the night before was clear over the muddled pain that had settled itself deep in his head. The thick sweetness of suspicion coated his tongue as he remembered the way his brother had suggested he take her home. At the time it had felt as if Lily was just concerned for a girl who was too drunk to be alone. Gajeel would have helped her anyway, without the suggestion that had been thrust upon him until he’d finally conceded. Now, he couldn’t shake the bitter realization that maybe Lily had an ulterior motive behind his good guy act.

“You aren’t telling me something.” Gajeel ignored the betrayal that made his words quiver against his lips. Silence stretched between them as they held each others gazes, a battle of crimson and obsidian waging against each other in a show of dominance. Hours forced themselves into the span of just a handful of seconds before Lily dropped his gaze.

“Are you still having that dream?” His voice seemed distant as Lily finally spoke. It carried the heavy weight of insinuation over its bluntness, not even bothering to mask the innuendo in the words. Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, the headache rammed angrily against his skull, blocking out all other thoughts as it hammered away at his brain. A grimace twisted his face as the sharp pain stole his breath.

The room pitched on its axis and his stomach rolled with the sudden lurch. Everything shuddered and shook around him as Gajeel clutched at his consciousness, Lily’s face blurring in his vision as he frowned. Darkness descended over him as his lips parted in silent protest. The last thing he heard was Lily’s soft voice as it cracked and twisted over his words.

“I’m sorry, Gajeel.”

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

#gajevy #Gajeel X Levy #Gajeel Redfox #Levy McGarden #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #kingdom #i went into this knowing it would be my least fave chapter #and to me it reads like it and ugh #basically im kinda sorry this is the chapter im leaving yall on before my break #but it had to be done #even though i hate it lol #cuz its like.... STUFF HAPPENS #BUT NOT ENOUGH STUFF?#LIKE IT WAS THE BUILD UP AND YOU GOTTA HAVE BUILD UP #THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA BE AWESOME THOUGH #I LOVE IT ALREADY LOL #THIS IS THE PEAK AT THE TOP OF THE ROLLERCOASTER BEFORE WE GO OVER AND SHIT GETS WILD

29 notes · View notes