#i remember the little charts we did in second grade

[halfdeadwallfly]

hey does anyone have any info on how to actually recognize that your actions have future consequences

[musical-chick-13]

For the ship ask game the Ponds Doctor Who? I was going to say DoctorRiver but that felt too obvious (feel free to add them to the chart if you want anyway though)

send me ships for the shipping grid

YES. BLESS YOU.

(Sorry, if I have the chance to include Doctor/River in ANYTHING, I'm taking it, lmao)

I ACTUALLY DON'T TALK ABOUT AMY/RORY ENOUGH. But I cannot TELL you how many feelings they've given me over the years. He waited for her for 2000 years! Just to give that little extra assurance that she would be safe!! She remembered him even when he was erased from existence!!! Even when that remembrance was subconscious!!! That's my shit!!!!!!!

That scene in "Asylum of the Daleks" where she talks about how she can't have kids anymore and wants him to be able to have that, so she's trying to let him go, and then he tells her he already knew anyway. And that they'll figure it out, because the important thing is the relationship they built. The ENTIRETY of "The Girl Who Waited" (which, hmmm, did I set the "giving her my days" speech to music for a project in theory class where we had to write a chorale, yes I did!!!!!!). I also have a whole separate folder on my computer of "Amy/Rory fanvids/fanfics" so.

"TOGETHER OR NOT AT ALL" OH MY GOOOODDDDDDDDDD. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 YOU WILL PRY TATM FROM MY COLD, DEAD HANDS.

They're not Grade-A Deranged™ in the way that the Doctor and River are (which, I think in order for a ship to completely reach the upper left corner, that has to be present) but I LOVE THEM. Amy learning that maybe someone human and grounded (who would, in most other stories, be left as the Buzzkill Second Choice) can be extraordinary and emotionally fulfilling and compelling. Breaking down the idea of what "ordinary" really means, because look at who Rory became! Amy had a lot of confusion to work through re: the state of her romantic feelings, and that kept being a source of insecurity for Rory, even after they DID get married. But they got there. And after she made her choice, she stuck to it; and even in spite of her Mess™ he was ALWAYS there for her. There was something just...very real, about their relationship, even though one of these people had two lives courtesy of a rift in the universe feeding into her brain and the other one died like ten separate times over the course of them both traveling through time and space.

Someday, I will discuss all of my Thoughts™ on Doctor/River, but that is. A giant far-reaching project for another day. But tldr, I completely understand why these two characters fell in love with each other, and it makes me into a mess at every conceivable turn. (I do wish we'd had more episodes of them, though; and I wish we'd gotten to see more of the aftermath of TATM. I think they would have benefited from both of those things.)

[thedaveandkimmershow]

So we're passing along another pair of our possessions last night and I got to wondering where they're from. I mean, yes, of course, they're ours. But where... did they first intersect with our lives?

Just fyi, I'm actually don't play this mental game with everything we own. It's just something about these two seemed to spark a memory.

These two?

Yeah. The first one is a seven-foot-tall bookshelf. Wood. Painted white. The second one's a bit of furniture crafted from two pieces. Also wood. Also painted white. A desk... and then a hutch that sits atop it bringing the total height also to seven feet.

A hutch?

Yeah I know. Basically a bookshelf made to fit the top of the desk. Which is great for when you live in a small space. Which is what sparked the memory.

Which goes like this...

It's afternoon. Daylight.

In this space, however, the daylight falls off pretty quickly as it moves through the trees and through the glass of the window then through the living room into the furthest corner where there's a light on above the desk.

Okay so this is the condo we lived in when we got married. The desk with hutch atop it was set against the west wall of the condo in the corner. It occupied the space reserved for a dining room but we chose to use it for Kimmer's office-ish area. Behind it, when you're sitting at the desk facing the wall, is the kitchen. To the left of the desk is, actually, that seven-foot-tall bookshelf I told you about. And then to the left of that— 

Well, that part of the living room we turned into our dining room because the living room was long enough to do that without feeling like we lopped off anything needlessly. 

And that's the memory. Although to be honest it's more of a scene I remember from way back when. A scene that features a bulb, attached to the underside of the bottommost shelf of the hutch, bathing the desk below it with soft yellow light.

I asked Kimmer about the furniture, her furniture, and she tells me she got both pieces from her parents in 1980, the year Mt. St. Helen's blew up.

I asked "were they what you wanted at the time?" She was in ninth grade, after all.

"Absolutely" she says.

And they've been hers ever since. Through high school, through college, through her first apartment out of college, to the condo. Right there in the corner between our kitchen and our dining room where there was never enough light so we usually had the one under the hutch turned on.

Eventually, both pieces of furniture made their way north with us to the house but, at the house, they weren't as much the center of attention as in the condo. They were, after all, meant to maximize small spaces.

Years go by and our friend Susan moves up north with us and, 'cause she could use a little furniture, we send the bookshelf and the desk/hutch her way.

Now, it’s’ after she moves out of that place of hers up north where I lose track of the furniture. And when she passed away last year there are many things for which I don't have a memory. It’s a blur. I wasn’t taking in the details. And there are many memories we created instead as we honored that loss and then the loss of two other people close to us afterward until at some point... 

The page turned.

Life moved us on.

We realized we've been charting a different path and.

We're moving into what's next.

Which means it's time to be honest with what stays and what goes as we map the life we've been living onto this new one that's been in process for a while now.

And yes. As we do that, I've been thinking about certain things we bought along the way. Certain things we owned.

I’ve been thinking about the life that swirled around them and the life certain of our possessions symbolized.

Once.

Upon.

A time 

🙂

[rossidce]

Decorative Concrete - the ultimate guide!

What exactly is it?

Decorative concrete uses an overlay material that goes over existing concrete. Most manufactures have their own blend, if you will, but they all consist of a mix of Portland cement, aggregate and polymers. Consider it a protecting coating that goes over your existing concrete. It bonds to it and essentially makes them one, if you will. When installed correctly (which of course, by us, it is), it serves more than just something pretty to look at.

Two things to remember when doing decorative concrete over your existing concrete; it is ONLY as good as the concrete it is bonding to AND the preparation done beforehand. Two cardinal rules that must always be kept in mind.

Process

In just about everything that you do, there is a process to ensure that your task is successful. Decorative concrete is no different. There may be more than one correct and effective way to do a task, decorative concrete included, but this is how I go about it. Wondering how to do decorative concrete overlay? Here’s a brief overview;

Prepare the surface. The concrete needs to be prepped in order for the decorative concrete overlay material to adhere to it. Have you ever tried to stick tape to a dirty surface? No good, right? This is no different. That’s why this is probably the most important step.

Lay down the material. Time to play! Once the surface is cleaned and ready to go, time to go to work! Time to lay down the decorative concrete overlay and do well, the decorative part of things. Then wait till it dries. Depending on the design, a second layer is needed to accomplish the look of that design.

Lay down the color. Sweet! The decorative part is done! Now on to the color! Sometimes it is hard to visualize until I’m done with this step. If they haven’t yet, this is when most people will go “wow! That’s awesome!”

Seal it. Time to ensure the longevity of your investment. Time to seal it! Two coats of a good sealer and boom! Job is complete!

***** There’s a lot more to it, do not get me wrong, but this is just so you get the gist of it.

Benefits

There are plenty of benefits to getting a decorative concrete overlay. Here’s to list a few and most important:

Benefit #1 – Price

The first and probably most important to most people is the price. It is usually much cheaper to do a decorative concrete overlay than it is to rip out and replace. Not only that, if you did choose to rip out and replace, that could also take much longer for you to be able to enjoy your patio/porch/etc. After all, the more moving parts you have, the more delays and issues you can run into. Thus, a decorative concrete overlay can not only save you some money, but some time as well.

Benefit #2 – Strength

Most manufactures have their own blends, as previously stated, so their strengths and data charts varies slightly, but overall, they tend to cure if not, then at around 6,000 psi after 28 days. Let’s take a driveway or a concrete patio. There’s a good chance the concrete contractor came in, formed, graded, poured, bull floated, possibly broom finished, went home. That driveway or concrete patio is most likely between 3,000 to 4,000 psi when cured at 28 days. 6,000 psi could mean double the strength.

Benefit #3 – Longevity

We all want the things we buy to last, right? Well, things that have to face mother nature day in, day out, tend to have a much shorter shelf life than those things that are sheltered from it. We live in the greatest (if not the greatest, then one of) state in the union known as the great state of Tennessee. How do I know our state is awesome? Look at the influx of people moving in!

With that said, we have all four seasons, winter being the shortest, but still shows up to say hi for a little while. That means we have a freezing and thawing cycle. We also have a lot of rain, heat, humidity and the list goes on. Even with all that, our state is pretty awesome. A strong decorative concrete overlay will surely help protect the concrete underneath in order to maximize the life of the concrete under it.

Benefit #4 – Low maintenance

Most people are busy; period. We as humans like things that are easy and low maintenance. Nothing wrong with that. Instead of making it part of the “spring clean” and pressuring washing your concrete every year, just take the hose to your decorative concrete overlay and boom! It’s clean! Next task!

Benefit #5 – Beauty

This one is kind of goes without saying, but hey, I’ll state it anyways. Not only do we all want our things to last, but we also want them to be pretty and aesthetically pleasing. Concrete is a material that is used to build foundations of buildings, sidewalks, driveways, etc., not because it’s pretty, but because overall, it is the best bang for the buck. With that said, it is not very pretty to look at.

Concrete tends to be gray, dull and dead looking; and when dirty, exceptionally ugly as well. Dirt just so happens to show really well on dead concrete. A decorative concrete overlay most definitely changes that. I mean, take a look at our work, it speaks for itself.

There are many benefits to having a decorative concrete overlay, from cost efficient to protecting the concrete to its beauty.

Styles

Got you interest in a decorative concrete overlay? Great! Let’s talk about a few popular styles!

Style #1 – Stone look

Absolutely stunning! Looks like natural stone were placed everywhere. This decorative concrete overlay is recommended by us when the concrete has a few more cracks than we like it to. Instead of trying to amend a bunch of cracks, which may come back, this one takes advantage of the cracks that are already present to make a beautiful design! When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, am I right?

Style #2 – “Aged” Stone look

This one is one of our personal favorites. What makes this decorative concrete overlay different than the regular stone look are the cuts and the surface itself. What I mean by that is, if you look at the crack lines themselves, they are bit wider, the colors a bit more faded, and the surface looks more “weathered away”. With this decorative concrete design we are trying to say, “It’s been here for 50 years, but well taken care of!”

Style #3 – Wood look

Also exceptionally popular, our decorative concrete wood look design is a beauty! This one is exceptionally customizable to match your preferred look. Some prefer the modern 2×8 to 2×12 planks. Some prefer the old school thin 2×4 planks. Some prefer going parallel to the house, some perpendicular. Some prefer this outside, some prefer it inside (beautiful option for the basement). Darker? Lighter? No Problem! We can match exactly what as to what you like!

Style #4 – “One Piece” Wood look

Like the wood look but want something a little different? Our decorative concrete one piece wood design look is just what you are looking for! We can make it look like it was one piece cut from the tree and placed it straight in your desired area! Want knots to make it look realistic? No problem! Want a little darker or lighter to represent a certain tree? We got it covered!

Style #5 – Ashlar Pattern

Our decorative concrete ashlar pattern design is also something to look at! The colors can be what you like them to be, and the size of each rectangle is also adjustable to your desires. A memorable piece of artwork for sure!

Style #6 – Slate

Want something beautiful, but yet, subtle? Here it is! Our decorative concrete overlay slate design is perfect for you! This one blends in really well with the nature outside, making one with its surrounding.

Style #7 – Brick

A unique beauty in its own. Whether an accent (border) around a pool patio or concrete porch, or maybe just the whole porch, our decorative concrete overlay brick design will most definitely enhance the appearance (and strength) of your surface.

Style #8 – Sprayed

Though not as aesthetically pleasing as the rest, it does have a purpose. Our decorative concrete overlay sprayed texture does add grip “sand paper” like to its surface. This particular design is always recommended on surfaces that may expect to get more water on it; such as a pool patio or an inclined driveway. Sealer tends to be somewhat slick. Sure, additives can be added to reduce its slickness, but it will still be present. Thus, why this design is recommended for such said surfaces. Safety is number 1 priority!

Great! Where can I get it done?

Good question! And the answer to that is pretty simple; just about any concrete surface!

With that said, here are some of the most common places to have a decorative concrete overlay; – Outdoor Concrete Overlay places         – Driveways.         – Sidewalks / Walkways.         – Pool patios.         – Front/back concrete patios.

– Interior Concrete Overlay         – basements         – man-cave

Everything sounds great! Now, how much is it going to cost me?

Another great question! This one though, not such a simple answer.

Every job is different. Thus, every job will have a different price attached to it. Some of the factors included are; – Size of project. – Style of project. – Condition of current surface (meaning, is it brand new or will it need a lot of TLC). – Is there already another coat or painting on it? – Your timeframe (meaning, do you need it done yesterday or can it be added to the current schedule?).

See why this is not such a simple answer?

A simple Google search and you can see that both Concrete Network’s and Home Adviser have a wide range of the cost per square foot. With that said, their range seems to be pretty accurate.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

Question #1 – My concrete is badly damaged. Will an overlay fix it?  – No! It most definitely will not! If the concrete is failing, has sunken, clear signs of being that badly degraded, your best bet is to rip out and replace. All things have an expiration date, and such said concrete has most definitely reached it.

Question #2 – If I do have to replace the concrete, will you do it? – No, we will not. We do not pour concrete.

Question #3 – My concrete is cracked. Once filled and a decorative concrete overlay applied, will it crack again? – In short, maybe. We fill the cracks with the best materials we can get our hands on. With that said, due to so many variables, those cracks may come back or, they may be formed in a different area (I want someone to tell me when has mankind ever won a fight against mother nature. This is no different)

Question #4 – How long will this decorative concrete last? – This one is hard to say as there are various factors to it, but with that said, as per Home Inspection Insider, typically lasts for about 10 to 15 years, but much longer than that if well applied and well maintained. The “well applied” part I will take care of; the “well maintained” part is up to you. Since the decorative concrete overlay material bonds to the concrete that it is on, whatever happens to the concrete slab is what will happen to the overlay. Meaning, if the concrete slab fails, so will the decorative concrete overlay.

Question #5 – “Well maintained?” What exactly do I need to do? – That is pretty easy. Every 2 to 3 years; 1. Clean it really well (I mean, really really well) 2. Let it dry (I mean, BONE DRY) 3. Apply two coats of sealer.

Did we miss anything? Let us know at Rossi Decorative Concrete & Epoxy if you have any additional questions, comments, or concerns. Please don’t forget, follow us on Facebook and Instagram! Drop a like and share our work!

[poguestvff]

LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

[idontblushsrry]

Itadori Yuuji Boyfriend Headcanons

A/N: Reader is from America and a black female. Idk why i decided to write this but I think that Yuuji would be a fun boyfriend lmao. I don’t entirely know what the reader’s cursed technique should be so lmk if you have any ideas. Until then enjoy Yuuji and reader being 2 idiots in love. Spoilers for all the eps of jujutsu kaisen up to about episode 11, nothing past that though as I want to finish the show first before reading the manga, so please be respectful of spoilers and label them (and tag if necessary) in the comments. Also srry if this cuts off abruptly bcus of the point the show is at. This is also like, all over the place but whatever.

(also sorry this was posted later than usual oops)

Word Count:  1943

This dork-

He is so sweet and kind and considerate 

But also a dumbass but also like he’s your dumbass

You and Yuuji are both equally stupid like bless yalls hearts

You and Yuuji met during his time at the Tokyo Academy when you transferred from America

The moment this man saw you walk up with Gojo-sensei he was smitten

Like your skin was glowing??? how???

And you had a slight accent but like he loved it too

And when you came up to greet him and shake hands you smelled so good and your skin was so soft

((He would later come to find out that the root of that was the shea cocoa butter lotion you used))

But yea mans was smitten and he is fully in love with you lmao

Will do literally anything you ask

You hungry? He’s prepared a 5 course, michelin star meal

Want new clothes? He’s been training for the day he could hold your bags for you

Ran out of hair products?? He’s already back with a special box of your products that he had imported from America

To this day you don’t know how he was able to get those products so quickly

He is loves when you tell him things about you from your day, to your times in america, to how your cursed energy works

Yall are the couple that does stupid shit together

Like one time you showed Yuuji one of those life hack videos and he was like 

“We should totally do that” 

And you were like “Bet”

Needless to say Fushiguro was very confused at the sight of bandaids on both of your fingers the next morning

“???What happened?”

“Well you see, I told Yuuji that I should use the glue gun because he didn’t even know where to put the glue stick. And he said nah, I got it and um yea so I fell and the glue gun was plugged in and then he tripped over me and so now we look like this.”

Gojo and Kugisaki thought that this was hilarious while Fushiguro decided that he’d store your guys’ glue gun in his shadows from now on

How yall manage to get through missions you go on together alive is a miracle

Speaking of missions, you eventually ask Yuuji what’s his deal because you feel a powerful aura coming from him but he never uses cursed energy, always cursed weapons

Cue Sukuna’s mouth popping up on the side of his face like “Hey mamas”

(You can’t tell me that Sukuna isn’t the type of guy to ask where his hug at)

“YUUJI WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t met Sukuna yet, huh?”

So he sits you down and explains how he ate Sukuna’s finger and you're sitting there like ‘mhm mhm mhm, sorry you what?’

For like 3 days after he told you that you couldn’t bring yourself to kiss him just because you were processing the fact that Yuuji ate someone’s nasty old ass finger and would have to eat 19 more

And the fact that he’s the vessel of like the worst curse known to man 

During those 3 days, Yuuji’s pouting because he’s like ‘I fucked up, now she doesn’t wanna kiss me let alone talk to me because of this monster inside of me :(’

Meanwhile you’re just like ‘why would anyone eat some random mummified finger?’

Eventually you get wind of Yuuji’s bad mood and immediately, you rush to smooth things over with him.

You knock on his door and hear blankets rustling before he goes, “I’m not in the mood to play fight right now Kugisaki’

“Can I come in baby?”

You immediately hear the most comical almost cartoonish amount of noise ranging from a cup falling over, sheets falling off the bed, and what sounds like Yuuji falling flat on his ass before he opens the door

When he does, you’re laughing and it’s like the sky is no longer grey and the world is filled with color

You smile at each other before your moment is interrupted with Sukuna going “Finally, full offense, his whining was getting annoying”

You step inside his room and apologize for ignoring him, explaining that you just needed time to process things, explaining that you should’ve told him that before dipping

He just grabbed you in a bear hug and lifted you of the ground and spinning you around laughing happily, after all he wasn’t even upset with you, he just missed you

And thus begins the honeymoon phase of your guys’ relationship

Fushiguro is actually really happy for you guys and is the most supportive of your relationship but if anyone asked him to admit that out loud he’d actually apparate to the nearest marooned ship

Nobura doesn’t hate you guys but she thinks all couples are disgusting, so while it’s nothing personal, she does gag when you and Yuuji do so much as make goo goo eyes at each other

Gojo is actually like the main cheerleader of your relationship. 

He is the teacher that changes the seating chart to put students he ships together

He was always pairing you and Yuuji up on missions and placing you as sparring partners like ur not slick

If Gojo is the cheerleader, Sukuna is an actual antagonist

Like the man goes out of his way to CHOOSE violence

Like on time you kissed Yuuji’s cheek on a date and when you pulled back, your lip was bleeding and Sukuna’s mouth was smirking at you

Another thing he likes to do is tell you all of Yuuji’s simp^tm thoughts

Like all of them

Now Yuuji isn’t ashamed of how much he loves you and is in fact very open with it, but he doesn’t need Sukuna telling you that the only reason he bought x mouthwash was because it made your breath smell like “sunshine” and he had to see if it would work on him

Speaking of dates, good luck

Now I stand by the fact that Yuuji would never half-ass a date and things with him are certainly never boring

But he’s also like a country boy in the city and his tourist tendencies tend to get the best of him

Like you’ll be trying to find a spot to eat and when you look back Yuuji’s gone

((Prolly to buy another I <3 Tokyo shirt so you can both match))

He always catches up with you ad you eventually learn that but like the first few times be havin you ready to put up a lost child signal on the loudspeaker

He’s very sweet and this is where his thoughtfulness shines through

You and Yuuji plan dates in the same way one plays bingo

Like because you never know where you’re going to be r when exactly you’ll both be free (especially with Gojo-sensei and his bare minimum ass information) you two tend to go ‘ok well if we’re here we’ll go here and if we’re here, we’ll go here’ and so on and so forth

But Yuuji always remembers such little one-off details about you that make your dates.

Like you mention wanting to try a sushi train and he’s already scrolled through multiple yelp reviews and watched every youtube restaurant review like 9 times

But every high has a low and Yuuji and your’s low comes suddenly and it brings you crashing to the ground with no warning and nothing to slow your descent

When your class of first years were sent to exorcise the special grade cursed womb

When Yuuji’s hand got blown off and he told you to run you froze, your mind racing faster than your legs could even start

“(Y/N) RUN!” Yuuji’s voice broke you out of your fear-based trance

“I- I...can’t...I can’t leave you!” you cried out all your rational senses screamed at you to go, run, he had Sukuna and you were barely a grade 2 sorcerer. But your intuition told you if you left him you wouldn’t see him alive again.

You were trapped in a paralysis of indecision but the choice was made for you when a sticky tongue wrapped around your midriff and you were gulped into the mouth of one of Fushiguro’s frogs

“Goddamn it Fushiguro! Let me go! I need to... save... him.” You were outside the building before you could even finish arguing.

You glared up at Fushiguro but your eyes softened some when you saw how beat up Kugisaki looked.

He gave you this look that said he did what he had to do and he didn’t care what you had to say about it 

You and him waited in the rain for Yuuji or Sukuna to exit the building

You tried to focus yourself and save your negative emotions for your cursed attack

When Sukuna inevitably appeared, one finger stronger, you were fully prepared to fight him

However, he didn’t seem interested in fighting you and more engaged in fighting with Megumi

You tried to urge Fushiguro to wait it out, eventually Sukuna would lose control, but when Sukuna took Yuuji’s heart hostage, you both knew you’d have to fight

You and Fushiguro gave it your all but when Yuuji came back he still died 

It took all your strength to not completely fall apart after his death and the support from the second years as well as Kugisaki and Fushiguro helped

You’d tried to visit him at the morgue but Shoko only told you that she didn’t think it’d be a good idea.

You still slept in his sweaters and the things that smelled like him from time to time, trying to make the idea of him last, but after a month, the smell of him had started to fade

Everything about Yuuji’s memory seemed to become leached away with time, from his smell, to the wear present on things he’d given to you

You couldn’t help but feel resentful towards yourself but also to Sukuna, he’d taken Yuuji from you with the same care that one would throw litter on the ground

The pain in your chest didn’t wane either, it only became ignorable to a degree as training for the exchange with the Kyoto students became more intense

Fushiguro is a comfort to you as well, aside from you, him and Yuuji were the closest to each other and so he gets a lot of what you’re going through and doesn’t push when you become more withdrawn

He also lets you pet his demon dog too but when you ask him why he’s letting you pet it he just says ‘because no one would believe you if you told them’ lies

The bastard really just does it because he knows you’re sad and he doesn’t want you to be sad

Speaking of the Kyoto students, Zenin Mai and Toudou Aoi are permanently on your shit list

You’re relieved that Panda, Maki, and Inumaki came to your guys’ aid but like if you had your way Mai wouldn’t even exist

Anyways Maki has Panda physically restrain you while she tries to calm you down 

“(Y/N), you can kick her ass at the exchange!”

When you calm down, Panda puts you down and even though Mai’s long gone with Todou to go get his handshake, you make a promise that carries through the wind

‘Zenin Mai, pray that the next time you run across me I’m feeling kind, because if not-’, the last word is lost as the wind picks up but Mai feels a shiver rack through her body that more than ensures your message.

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Haechan x Reader (Female)  ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Fluff ➔Warnings: Angst | Mentions of death | Cursing ➔Word count: 6,865

➔Summary: He was always yours, even before you wrote a book about him, even before he disappeared from your life after high school, and even before he broke his promise. 

➔Request: can I request a drabble of haechan friends to lovers? 🥺

➔ I hope you don’t mind that I turned this into a longer story that is more on the fluff side. I felt really inspired to do so. Thanks for sending in the request! 💚

You

  You hated school. Not because you weren’t serious about your studies. You liked the subjects well enough. You liked eating lunch at a table, a little package of apple slices, and a chocolate milk that always tasted like the carton it was in. You liked hanging up your coat in the coat closet, little rain droplets dripping on the wooden floor when the weather was bad. You liked your teachers and how they would encourage your love of reading. You liked all the things to like except one: school hours meant time away from him.

  Him. He pulled your hair sometimes when he was bored. You cried once, your mother saying something sexist about how he must like you. Your father never paid attention, just kept watching the television. You wondered if all boys were that stupid. He also made fun of the way your nose would wiggle when you talked. He had a smart comment for everything. He thought he was smarter than you, even. There weren't many nice things to say right off the top of your head, but you loved him anyway.

 During the school year, the school hours especially, you never talked to him. He was off parading around with his squad of friends, each one more pigheaded than the last. They’d act like they didn’t care about school in the schoolyard, but all of them got decent grades. Sometimes they would pick on others boys, the principal telling others that that’s just what boys did. Sometimes he would raise his hand in class and answer the right question, and even though you sat next to each other in class, he’d never look at you. 

  Your school life was a little different. You were off spending time hovering by doorways, wishing the days would end until you could see him again. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, a question of whether you truly knew him or not always on your tongue. You didn’t spend time pretending other people were your friends, because your best friend had always been him.

  After school felt like a different time zone. Neither of you took your time with homework. You would rush, a telltale sign being poorly erased letters and crumpled papers shoved into bookbags. Usually, he would walk to your house and meet you in the tent in the backyard, talking long before he reached the entrance. He always talked about his day as if you weren’t in it. He liked to talk a lot.

“I don’t want to hear it.” you would say. “I don’t know why you’re friends with those people.”

 You were both at an age where you were figuring stuff out. You fought a lot, with him storming out of your backyard tent and walking home, and you resisting the urge to follow him. There was always a phone call from his concerned mother, eased by your own mother reassuring her that you’d both work out your differences soon. You’d been best friends since you were even younger, clinging to each other only when other people weren’t looking. It was too late to make a clean break.

 Summers were your favorite because you had him all to yourself. At that age, you weren’t aware that keeping him was holding him back from other things. You were all too happy to lounge on a beach with him, watching him get stuck in the sand and laughing at him until your stomach hurt. To you, it was the purest form of love. 

 Time made things weird, as it does. The summers you used to love started fading out. He no longer came on family trips. Instead, he went to summer camps with other thirteen-year-old boys. He would come back boasting about being taught to shave his face by the older kids, and then he would show you his new skills. Even though you were disinterested, you always watched him intensely, thinking that if he let you in to this one valuable piece of information, he would open the door to the rest. He never did.

  Gradually, after-school hangouts were taken away from you, too. Your father’s only contribution to any conversation was to say that your best friend would be more interested in girls now. Even as your parents left you alone, the words of  “But I’m a girl!” leaving your lips until the last light was shut off, you never really understood what it meant. In fact, it wasn’t until he flirted with someone else in front of your face that you got the hint. You were a girl, but he never thought of you that way. And he would rather spend his time after school walking to someone else’s house.

 None of that was as bad as high school was. Up until then, you’d been clutching at straws to make the friendship what it once was. You made the tent bigger to accommodate his growing frame. You offered to pay for movies if he’d come alone, and you would even sit through the boring ones just for him. On the rare chance that you’d guilt trip him into staying a little longer with you, it was enough to keep you enduring. When high school truly hit, the studying took up most of your time. The scraps that were left were spent having family time, or visiting schools your mother wanted you to attend after high school.

 Though he no longer ignored you in school, things had gotten harder. He was dating often, sweeping girls off their feet with his wild, charming sense of humor. It was hard for them not to get jealous of you. Though you weren’t around much, the bond you both shared was obvious to everyone who watched the pair of you together. He never really wanted to choose between his childhood best friend and someone he was seeing, but the choice was always very apparent to you. 

“Maybe you should date, too,” he had said.

  You shut it down quickly, appalled that he would even suggest a thing. When you realized your dismissal must have hurt his feelings, you backtracked.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” you asked.

 His smile made you feel like you were on top of the world. Of course he had someone to introduce to you. Thus, the double date was born. You could tag along with him and his girlfriend, with a friend of his you eventually started dating. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it had rekindled something in your friendship you didn’t know you’d been missing.

 He had even come around to your house more. You came home from a study group one time to see him in your childhood tent, his long legs sticking out of it. He bent his body forward, holding up a bag of snacks you recognized.

“You still sit in here?” he asked.

You sat down next to him, the plastic of the tent hitting you in the forehead. “When I need to think.”

“You have a brain?”

“Funny.” you said. “Why are you here?”

  He got a far away look in his eyes, like he did whenever he was truly going to say something stupid. There were times he spoke philosophically, because deep down, he was never the stupid little boy you said he was.

“Life is moving too fast,” he said. “Remember when we were kids and it moved so slow? I would suffer waiting for summer.”

“I remember it vividly.” you said. “Are you feeling nostalgic?”

  He ate some of the snacks, offering you some. When you didn’t take it, he pulled on your hair a little bit. It pulled you to wherever he was at, back in time to when things felt much easier than they were. High school was ending, and you were all walking down different paths, none of them leading back to this tent.

“I want you to promise me something.” he said. “After high school, I want us to always be best friends. This last year has made me realize how much I missed you.”

 You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, to take his hand and hold it in yours. There was something in you that couldn’t do it. You just kept chewing, waiting for him to keep talking. 

“Let’s promise to call each other at least once a day when we’re adults.” he said, getting this excited look in his eyes. He felt more like the real Haechan right then than he ever had in the past five years.

“Promise.” you said, holding out your pinky and getting ready to kiss your thumb.

  Haechan linked his pinky with yours, his thumb connecting to your thumb. You leaned down to kiss it at the same time, your faces coming closer to each other than they had in a long time.

  Sadly, after high school, the promise was never kept. The image of him walking away from your backyard was the last time you saw him in any place you called home.

                                                          ~♡~

  You held the phone away from your ear because it was too hot. In your other hand, you held a cold, strawberry smoothie, the condensation dripping down your fingers. The sidewalks were busy, so it was tricky trying to weave in and out of the people, all while holding an unfinished manuscript for the next book you were writing. Years of dodging kids in school hallways made you a pro. As you were about to collide with a delivery man, you spun around gracefully and avoided disaster. After taking a sip of smoothie, you brought the phone closer to your ear.

“Do people still do book signings for physical copies?” you asked. “I thought everything was about selfies now. I definitely don’t look good with the flash on.”

“Of course.” your agent told you over the phone. “I don’t think anyone over the age of existence does. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.” you said.

 Your agent on the other end sighed. “You’re too young to be worried about any of this. I’ll book you for the signing and people will come, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 You wanted to rattle off all the reasons you were freaking out over it, but you were in public. You took another sip of smoothie and looked at the manuscript tucked against your body. Twenty-four and published, with your book rising in the charts, and a second book underway. You shouldn’t be so scared to have human interactions with strangers who enjoy your work, and yet...

“Okay.” you said, closing your eyes for a moment.” Okay, you can do it. I don’t know why I get like this. Seriously, you’re the best.”

“I know. I know.” your agent said. “Take a bath and relax. Call me later.”

  You hung up and threw your phone in the deep recesses of your bag. Your one hand was wet, and you didn’t want it touching the papers, so you tucked them deeper against your body and kept on walking.

                                                        ~♡~

“A book signing. Can you believe it?” you said into the phone. There was no answer on the other end, not even a little static. You walked a little slower on the sidewalk, letting the outside world disappear from your vision. You took a deep breath. “I sold so many copies, mom. I know you would be proud of me.”

  The message ended with a beep. You left the phone on your ear and stopped walking. You stood still, wondering if one day calling your mother and leaving messages on her old cell phone would eventually make you feel better. She died shortly after you graduated from high school, and the phone number was the only part of her still kept alive. You called it whenever you felt a little lost, or on days when you had exciting news to share.

  Feeling a tightness in your chest, you turned off your phone and dropped it into your bag. You were almost home, but you felt like you weren’t ready to face your apartment again. You found it so funny that your professional life was so full and booked, but your personal life was so hollow and empty.

  You turned away, thinking that you could retrace your steps and find yourself on a street with a cafe still open. You would gladly sit at that table and write, watching strangers living their lives, each one stuffed to the brim of character. Men that tried hitting on women who were disinterested, the click-clacking of their heels walking away from potential danger. Mothers with their children, each child holding a mushy, spit-covered ice cream cone. There was always someone who didn’t belong in the crowd, someone your eyes glossed over, and someone who brought up memories of someone you used to know. It was your favorite pastime: watching people who weren’t watching you. You smiled at the thought of getting to live those many lives, when you remembered that there was always a writing deadline to attend to.

  Another time, you thought, before taking the remaining steps to your apartment and looking through the darkened glass front door. Maybe you would take up your agent's suggestion of taking a bath.

 Feeling a little more jolly, you walked up the steps and let yourself in. You stopped to check your mailbox (empty), stopped to check your phone messages one last time (also empty), and lastly, checked your surroundings. When you were sure no one was around, you walked up the steps, feeling tired both mentally and physically. When you reached the top of the hallway, you stopped.

“Haechan.” you said, his name too quiet for him to hear.

   Sitting outside your door, a hood over his head, sat the boy who used to pull on your ponytail. Only now, the figure in all-black clothes, a little 5 o’clock shadow on his face, the one that looked up at you like he didn’t recognize you, pulled at your heartstrings. 

                                                           ~♡~

  You liked to remember Haechan often, especially considering the main character of your book was written with him in mind. Well, you changed his name in the book and made him a lot cooler, but the core of him was the same. Both men were the epicenter of your whole world, even though one of them had left years ago. 

 Looking at him sitting on your floor transported you back in time. Briefly, your mind tried to convince yourself that you were seeing a ghost from the past. But, when he got up from the floor, approaching you cautiously, and he paused for a second before reaching out his arms to hug you, your fingertips knew what your brain didn’t: he was real.

  “Why are you here?” you blurted, pulling away from him, your body regretful that you had let him go.

“I don’t get a hello?” he asked.

  You raised your eyebrows, the surprise on your face real. You were struggling with words, which annoyed you as a writer. All you could do was look at his face and how much it had changed over the last few years. He was a man now. He was a little taller, and the baby fat on his cheeks was gone. He still couldn’t dress right, and the old confidence faded, but he was still as handsome as ever. When he smiled to show that he was joking, you couldn’t stop looking at his teeth.

“How did you find out where I live?” you asked.

“Your dad.” he said.

 Haechan didn’t so much as give his apologies for missing your mother’s funeral, and he had the good graces not to bring her up at all. You felt grateful, saving the pain of both things for another time. 

“I don’t talk to him much anymore.” you said. “He only comes by to give me old things he thinks I want.”

  Not knowing what to do with the piece of information, Haechan shoved his hands into his pockets. You hated how awkward it felt being in front of him. The silence outside of your apartment was magnified by your deep breathing. 

“Are you here because of my book?” you asked.

Puzzled, Haechan blinked. “Book? I didn’t read your book.”

  You adjusted your bag in your hands and thought of something to say. Before you could speak, Haechan motioned to the bag he brought sitting in front of your apartment door. You looked at it, the big black boulder holding no significance to you.

“I was actually just passing through town. I was wondering if you could let me stay a night.” he said.

Him

  He said he hated the apples, even though they were his favorite fruit. He put them on your lunch tray when you weren’t looking, because if you’d seen him do it, you would have made a fuss. Then, he’d get up from your table and go back to wherever his other friends were, because that was what was expected of him. But his eyes always went back to your table to make sure you were eating well, and he would try his best to remember the way you’d smile when you looked down and saw what he had left behind.

 He hated school. It was full of adults who tried to change him. Laugh a little less, they said. Don’t be a clown. Don’t make too much trouble. There was never any room for dreamers or troublemakers, never any kind of future for those who didn’t have plans by the time they were pulled from the womb. Behave and listen. Listen and learn, or we’ll call your parents. He had heard it all by the time he was thirteen, and he hated every bit of it.

 Not you, though. You never tried to change him. You let him go on his way, even though he knew you felt like he was abandoning you. You were the only person he trusted most days, and in the tent in your backyard, he had felt most like himself. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” you had said once. You were angry, he could see it in the way you tried not to say what you wanted to say. “I don’t know why you’re friends with those people.”

 He hadn’t known, either. They liked the way he made them laugh, and he liked the attention they gave him. They were different, in the way that they didn’t remind him that friendships were temporary, that everyone you know might someday disappear. He was terrified of that, of the idea that good things didn’t last.

“Are you jealous?” he asked.

 He wanted the words to sting. He knew you were jealous, and he knew you would never admit to it. He would have been jealous, too, if the roles were reversed. He wanted nothing more than for you to admit that you cared about him, that you loved him, or to rouse any kind of feeling in you at all. Those words spawned a fight that made it hard for either of you to bounce back from. He pulled and picked at you until you were deteriorating in front of his eyes. Choice words were said, and though the wounds healed as you both grew older, neither of you really forgot the beginning of the end.

 Summer came and went, time never slowing down for anybody. The hatred  burning in his heart subsided as he grew into himself more, though he never really learned how to savor the moments as they happened. He was always reaching for more, stuffing his greedy face full of anything that could keep him content.

   His phone calls to you melted down to just one call per week. He didn’t stop by the tent as much, didn’t ask to catch up on homework. He was drifting through school, using the passage of time to measure the length of girls legs, and how they’d move in his direction any time he smiled.

“Maybe you should date, too,” he had said.

 His bright idea didn’t rub off on you. You didn’t smile, didn’t look at him the excited way he looked at you. When you shut it down so quickly, he wondered if your rejection had something to do with him. He was trying really hard to keep your friendship alive, even catching up in the hallways before class to make sure you were taking care of yourself.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” you asked, a simple smile appearing and disappearing before he could blink.

 Introducing you to one of his friends, in hindsight, wasn’t the best idea. He’d had better, but he could hardly take it back. You looked happy when his friend's attention was on you. You were radiant. And it was the perfect set-up. You both could double date and spend time together, just like the old days, even making both of your dates uncomfortable by how close of a bond you had together.

  When the jealousy arrived in a perfect little handbasket, he was sure it was payback for treating you differently, as he was getting to know himself more. He burned whenever he saw you with the other boy, whenever you reached out for his hand, your lips quivering for a kiss. He would stay up late at night in a restless fit, his mind taking turns convincing himself that you were losing your virginity every waking moment. 

 “You’re spending a lot of time at my house.” you had said to him on more than one occasion. 

“Do you mind?” he asked. “I can go home, if you want.”

“No.” you said quickly, your eyes sparkling.

 He wanted to kiss you then. It was a fleeting , special moment, and it hovered in the air between you both from that moment forward. He thought maybe he was imagining it, but he had been close to many girls, and no one looked at him the way you did.

 Sitting in your tent, his legs stretched out of it because he was too big, he thought back to every time you made his heart do backflips in his chest. Ever since you were small, he had feelings for you. In fact, his parents used to joke that the two of you would end up together one day, maybe have a wedding in the backyard,  your inside jokes written into your vows.

 Hearing leaves crunching underfoot, he sat up.  “You still sit in this thing?” he asked.

You sat down next to him, the plastic of the tent hitting you in the forehead. “When I need to think.”

“You have a brain?”

“Funny.” you said. “Why are you here?”

 He wasn’t sure why. He had been taking a walk and found himself there, his feet knowing exactly where to go. He had been thinking too hard about life after high school, and about what kind of man he wanted to be.

“Life is moving too fast,” he said. “Remember when we were kids and it moved so slow? I would suffer waiting for summer.”

“I remember it vividly.” you said. “Are you feeling nostalgic?”

  He ate some of the snacks, offering you some. When you didn’t take it, he pulled on your hair a little bit. Getting you to eat properly was important to him. If he wasn’t around to remind you to take care of yourself, how would you survive the rest of life without him?

“I want you to promise me something.” he said. “After high school, I want us to always be best friends. This last year has made me realize how much I missed you.”

 When he felt like he was going to cry, he shoved more food into his face. He was watching you out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should continue. When you remained quiet, he began again.

“Let’s promise to call each other at least once a day when we’re adults.” he said, getting this excited look in his eyes. He felt more like the real Haechan right then than he ever had in the past five years.

“Promise.” you said, holding out your pinky and getting ready to kiss your thumb.

  Haechan linked his pinky with yours, his thumb connecting to your thumb. You leaned down to kiss it at the same time, your faces coming closer to each other than they had in a long time. It would be so easy to seal the deal with a real kiss, one that had been years in the making. But he didn’t, and neither did you.

“I have to go.” he said, getting to his feet. “You’re going to keep your promise, right?”

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?” you asked.

                                                       ~♡~ 

  He was raised not to comment on the state of other people’s homes, good or not. Looking around yours, he wanted so badly to tell you how well you were doing for yourself, and how proud of you he was. He looked around, his fingers itching to touch the pretty ceramic birds on an end table, to run a fingertip on a dustless counter and hold it up to the light. 

“You can put your bag down over here.” you said, motioning to a spot beside the couch. “My couch isn’t much, but it is comfortable.”

 You were a little awkward, your eyes unable to connect with his. He could see your mind waiting to defend yourself against the little jabs old Haechan would have made about your space. When he didn’t, you didn’t let your shoulders relax. He moved further inside your apartment, and to your confusion, he said it was a nice place, and that he would be happy to sleep wherever. 

 Compared to your nerves, he was quite calm. He felt like he had walked into a time machine and transported himself into the backyard again. It was like nothing had changed at all. You still looked the same, with nicer clothes that looked more expensive than the average persons. It looked like you went to the hair salon to ask for an “adult” haircut, but your baby face made it hard to take you seriously. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

Haechan shrugged. “Sure.”

  When you didn’t ask if he was hungry, Haechan made himself comfortable on the couch. You sat on an opposite chair, folding your hands in your lap. You kept looking around the room nervously, as if you were scared to be alone with a stranger. It hurt him a little bit, but he was mature enough to let it slide.

“Thank you for letting me stay.” he said.

“It’s fine.”

Haechan sighed. “This is much harder than I thought it would be.”

“What is?” you asked, touching your fingers to your neck.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  You got up from your chair as if you’d been electrocuted. “I forgot I need to make a phone call. I will be right back. Don’t touch anything.” 

  Haechan watched you as you grabbed your bag and left the room. Never one to keep still, an old habit that never died, he got up and looked around. He came across the room you entered and saw that the door was ajar. He didn’t listen to the conversation, just grabbed little pieces of it regarding a book signing to take place the next day.

“So soon?” he heard you ask the person on the other end of the phone.

 Haechan walked away, his attention set on the fireplace. On top of it sat a bunch of picture frames, one of which he was in. Haechan stared at it for a long time, his eyes tracing the outline of the little boy he used to be. In the picture, the two of you were hanging onto each other. You were maybe eight years old, ice cream running down your chin, and a blissful ignorance only a child can carry on your sweet face.

 He didn’t know where things had gone wrong. The two of you should have been friends forever. It just made sense. He reached out to touch his fingers to the photo but reeled back when he saw your face in the reflection.

“My mother took that photo.” you said, appearing behind him.

He nodded. “I remember.” 

 The air was heavy. He wanted to apologize for not going to her funeral. He had been out of the country during that time, but he should have called you. He could have written a letter, he could have done anything else but ignore it. 

“I was scared.” Haechan said, the words surprising himself.

You held up a hand, as if you didn’t want to talk about it, but Haechan continued, “I loved her, too.”

 You turned your back and went into the kitchen. Quietly, Haechan followed. He wasn’t going to bring it up anymore. He sensed your sadness because it brewed in his chest, too. He sat on a stool as you got yourself a cup and poured cold water from a pitcher into it. 

“How was your trip?” you asked, your voice shaky.” Are you still traveling?”

 Since he left high school, Haechan felt aimless. He needed to explore the world in an attempt to further his education surrounding himself. He had traveled to many countries and met many people that changed him. Disappearing was never the plan, but it was addicting to not have phone calls, or to adhere to schedules. 

“I’m seeing where it goes.” he said. 

  You took a sip of water and never stopped looking at him. When you were done, you placed it on the counter. “I guess I should ask the million dollar question.”

Haechan leaned back in his stool, “Hit me with what you got.”

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“I didn’t want to pay for a hotel.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“Haechan, I’ve known you all my life.” you said. “Lying is your calling.”

“I wanted to see you.”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.” he said. “I’ve never lied to you.”

  The bitterness was morphing your face. He could tell you were thinking back to the promise, about how broken it had made you. After he left, he heard from his parents that you called his house often to ask where he had gone. You wrote him letters that were undelivered. You nearly followed him halfway across the world until your mother got sick. 

“Okay.” he said. “It wasn’t a lie when I made that promise. I had every intention of being with you until we were old and wrinkly.”

“Please.” you said. “You knew what you were going to do before you did it. You booked the plane ticket two weeks in advance. You were with me at graduation. You kissed me.”

  He remembered the kiss well. He had thought about it often on his travels, remembering the way your velvety lips felt, and how he never wanted to stop kissing you. The kiss made sense. It was the one thing time had every permission to slow down. 

“I know.” he said.

  He kissed you. You didn’t kiss him. He was happy about graduating. He was riding the high of the plane ticket, of the unknown waiting for him. He was scared it was the last chance he had to show you his feelings. When you kissed him back and it felt so good, he was then scared that he would never have the guts to leave. 

  You continued speaking, each word obliterating his thoughts, “ You want to think going away was just some spontaneous thrill, Haechan, but it fucking wasn’t. You could have told me it was what you wanted. I would have understood. You didn’t have to leave without saying goodbye. You didn’t have to-”

 You couldn’t say the words, so he finished them for you. “-leave. I know. I’m sorry. This isn’t an excuse, but I...didn’t want to lose you.”

  The words felt stupid as soon as he said them. You held your hand up to your head and said you had a headache. Haechan took the time to excuse himself and use the bathroom, locking himself away to figure out what he really thought was going to happen when he showed up at your door to get you back.

You 

  You collapsed onto your couch. The last hour felt like a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. You were older and more equipped to handle confrontation, but there was something about seeing Haechan that made you want to curl in your mother’s lap like a child. You bit down on your thumb and thought of the ways you could ask him to leave your private space. There was a hotel down the street that was relatively cheap. 

  You looked at the photo on the fireplace. The little boy staring back at you had no idea one day he would break your heart into a million pieces. He was still a little unsure of himself, his smile unknowingly gearing up to be mischievous in a few years time. You thought of the grown man in the bathroom, and how the years had passed, but he still felt the same. A part of you wanted to pinch his cheek and wrap your arms around him like you would when you were young. An even bigger part of you wanted to kiss him to see if the feelings still lingered, even though you already knew the answer to that.

  Moving your foot, you accidentally nudged his backpack. You looked down at it. It was worn in places, with band buttons adorning the front. One of the zippers was open and the edge of something was sticking out. You looked at your closed bathroom door and back to the backpack before gathering up your courage and unzipping it slowly. 

  Digging your hand inside, you pulled out a corner of his underwear. With a quick “Ew”, you shoved it back inside. Your knuckle touched against something hard. You wrapped your hand around it and unearthed it to see that it was your book. You pulled it out even more and audibly gasped. 

“You liar.” you whispered.

 Hearing the toilet flush, you panicked and pulled the book all the way out and shoved it underneath your couch pillow. Quickly, you zipped his backpack and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. When Haechan came out, he hardly looked at you.

“Coming here was a bad idea,” he said. “I don’t know what I expected.”

You stood up. “Wait.”

  Haechan didn’t hear you. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. You could see that his face was wet where he had thrown water on it. He didn’t make eye contact with you, just waved his hand and apologized for being an inconvenience. 

“Leaving again?” you said.

  Haechan stopped moving. He turned back. “I thought about you every day I was gone. Every day. And every day, my next thought was that I didn’t deserve you.”

 You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing at all. For a beat or two, you both stared, your eyes searching each other's. You could see every age of Haechan since you’d known him on his face, from the adorable child to the handsome adult. 

  You let Haechan leave this time. He closed the door with a soft click, his presence feeling like a fever dream. Mindlessly, you sat back down on your couch, and only remembered the book still laying there after some time.

 You took your book and placed it on your lap. It was so worn that some of the pages were slipping out of the binding. You opened it carefully and flipped through the pages, the margins filled up with black pen ink. Haechan had written down his input on most pages with things like:

Am I really like this? There is no way this guy is cooler than me.

You know? You’re actually kind of funny. 

Your mother was better than us all.

  You closed the book with a snap and felt the tears falling. You put your head down and tried to feel everything all at once.

                                                         ~♡~

  Your agent walked next to you, her stride slowing to match yours. She didn’t outright say you looked like shit, though it was the truth. Your eyes were a little red, your cheeks were puffy, and you kept itching your neck all throughout the night until there were red scratch marks all on your skin.

 She held open the door to the bookstore “Are you nervous?”

“Am I nervous?” you asked. “I’m shitting myself. I don’t think anyone is going to show up, but with my life, I’m pretty sure I can deal with the embarrassment.”

 Your agent rattled on and on about how special you were to people. She dragged you throughout the two story bookstore, pulling you harder when you tried stalling. You mostly blocked out her words to save your sanity. You didn’t love when people tried buttering you up.

“Just over in this section.” she said. “It starts in twenty minutes, so don’t expect many people right away.”

  When you both turned the corner, there was a sizable line leading up to a table stacked with new books. When the people saw you, they gawked. Some clapped, which made your face turn as hot as your neck. 

“I can’t do this.” you whispered.

  Your agent directed you to a chair, holding you down by your shoulders, so you wouldn’t run away. You took a sip of cold water sitting by your side.

“They’re all here for you.” she said. “Smile and try to be happy.”

“I’ll try.” you said, but when someone smiled at you in front of the line, you felt yourself returning a genuine smile.

 Twenty minutes passed by faster than you wished. When the first person approached the table, you tried to remember your school teachers who believed in you. You recalled all the people who inspired your stories, making a mental bid to thank them for making the first signing so sweet. 

“I really love how you write.” someone had said. Hearing those words made you feel touched. You tried your hardest not to tear up, signing your sloppy signature as best you could.

“Thank you.” you said, the gratitude you felt hopefully being translated well.

  You signed for a long time, the line growing and growing as time passed. Some people came with their own dog-eared books, others with fresh copies. They asked what your upcoming book was about, which made you excited to finish writing it. 

“There isn’t a set ending quite yet, but I’m writing like crazy!” you said.

  You looked down at a book before you and smiled, your fingers touching the pages softly. You signed it and handed it back, giving the fan a smile that reached your eyes. When your eyes locked with his, you felt the world move. Staring back at you was Haechan.

“I would have given you my own copy to sign.” he said. “But I seem to have misplaced it.”

 There was a knowing smile on his face that made you feel flushed all over. He took the signed book back and tucked it underneath his arm. Since yesterday, he looked freshly showered in a similar black t-shirt and jeans. His hair was carefully laid flat on his head like he cared what he looked like in public. He looked handsome, and his cheeks were definitely not puffy.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you read the book?” you asked. 

“You and I both know I don’t make the best choices.” he said. 

  You smiled faintly. There was pain in the smile he returned. You wanted so badly to reach across the table and smooth away the lines on his forehead.

“I know this isn’t the best place.” he said, turning around to look at the line behind him. “But I came here to tell you the truth of why I was outside of your door yesterday.”

“Okay.” you said, your attention no longer on those people.

Haechan continued. “You see, I’m not traveling anymore. “

“You’re not?” you asked. “Then, what are you doing?”

“I’m coming home.”  

 You didn’t know what he expected of you, but he looked a little deflated when you held out your hand. He looked at the book under his arm and back at your hand, his smile unsure. He took the book out and placed it gently into the palm of your hand. You placed the book back onto the table and opened to the space where you had signed your name.

“I’m not going to ask for promises anymore.” you said. “I’ve always asked you for too much. For now, I would just like to tell you something.”

In the book, just below your name, you signed “I love you, Haechan.”

  Before you could even close the book, Haechan came around the table and brought you into a big hug that certainly felt like home. 

[broadstflyers]

A/N: I am so excited to be starting my first ever series. This is inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Cardigan” because her music creates stories in my head that I must write down on (digital) paper. Please keep in mind this chapter is written in past tense, and the story probably won't be in present tense for at least another few chapters. Let me know what you think! If you want to be on the tag list for the next chapter, or drop any (constructive) feedback, you can take this survey here.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: None

Summary: They say at fourteen you’re too young to know you’re in love. But what if you aren’t?

Navigation: chapter two

Grade: 9 Age: 14 --------------------------------- As sure as you are that spring comes after winter, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and seconds turn into minutes, you know you are in love with Joel Farabee. Not the gushy “I want to hug you and kiss you and never let you go” love, the intense “I want to burst at the seams because I just want to scream it on the rooftops and tell you and it literally crushes my heart that I can’t” love.

Yeah, that love.

The problem?

You were only fourteen when you knew.

Yes, the grand old age of fourteen. The age you were supposed to be nervously texting multiple boys, wondering if you were going to be asked to the ninth grade dance and worrying about who your first kiss was going to be, or even the first person you were going to hold hands with.

It started on the first day of school, but the start of it all was less than romantic. You shuffled up the hallway with one of your best friends, your feet felt like lead.

“What’s wrong?” Luna whispered in your ear.

“I really hate math,” you huffed. It was the last period of the day, eighth period, and you had to spend it in what was probably going to be a room full of rambunctious athletes who would be itching to burst out of the room at the very sound of the bell. How did you know this? Because you had been stuck in a class like that ever since the beginning of middle school. It made for some laughs, yes, but for some reason a pessimistic attitude bitterly swarmed around you in dark circles. Also, math in general made you anxious, and it didn’t help that the last few years you had to fend for yourself because of your lack of friends in said class.

“Well, at least you’ll have me this year,” Luna attempted to reassure you and your looming anxiety.

“Yeah, but I wonder who’s going to be in our class this year,” you mumbled. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies, but you’d rather call them icky moths.

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but you reached the door frame before her. Before you could even make it through the entrance, you made eye contact with a group of rowdy boys sitting at a table directly in front of you. You stopped dead in your tracks. They paused in their shouting to turn and look at you and Luna, since you were only about seven or eight feet away.

You scanned their faces, and you recognized most of them. They were mostly hockey players that played for the local team that looked for a shot at the NTDP in just a few short years. It was Syracuse, hockey was a pretty big deal there. There was also the prospective varsity quarterback and his star wide-receiver, these labels given to them at just fourteen. Of course, more athletes. Suddenly, you locked eyes with this boy you strangely have never seen before. His hand was hovering in air over his friend’s head with what you could only assume is his friend’s pencil in a lame attempt to keep him from grabbing it.

He blinked a few times, and you might have blinked a few times, you honestly couldn’t remember.

You snapped out of your trance and looked over to the board that said, “Welcome class! Pick your seats for the first day!”

“Hey,” Luna nudged you and grabbed your arm, “let’s sit over there.”

She lead you to a table adjacent to the boys’ table, despite your unheard protests of being “too close” to them.

You took your seat huffing, and you pulled out your binder and got ready for class, something you wished the crazy boys would pick up on. Thankfully the bell rang, your teacher shut the door, and class began.

That’s the first time you saw him. Not very eventful, but hey, you two were awkward fourteen year olds just entering grade nine. Of course things were not going to be all fireworks and love at first sight.

---------------------------------

A few classes went by, and the only disturbance that occurred was when the class was taking one of those horrible diagnostic tests. See, you really hated disturbances, interruptions, anything relating to that matter.

So when this dude named Joel (you learned his name when he was yelled at for playing rap music in the middle of class) started fooling around with his friend while you were trying to figure out why letters were in math now, you weren’t happy, to say the least.

And when he locked eyes with you and made a silly face, yours did not move in a rather unamused manner. You simply blinked and looked back down at your test.

You missed his face slightly fall, but it was short lived when the teacher yelled his name from across the room and made everyone jump ten feet. He was quiet after that.

---------------------------------

It was a random Tuesday in late October.

You and Luna were chatting about your previous classes, until you both stopped in your tracks and you raised an eyebrow. Everyone in your class was standing up and congregating away from tables. You could hear the ominous music creeping over everyone’s heads.

“Oh no,” you whined to Luna.

She winced. “We’re being assigned seats, aren’t we?”

You nodded. You both stood in the sea of kids and awaited your fate.

“Alright, everyone,” your teacher said. “You guys have been extremely chatty lately.” She paused to side-eye Joel and his friends.

He opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly shut it when she frowned.

“So you leave me no choice, but I must assign seats,” she dramatically said as she unveiled the new seating chart on the board.

Everyone pushed and shoved to the front to see where their name lied in the cards of fate. You heard some soft celebrations and loud protests.

You nudged your way in and scanned up and down the board. Luna wasn’t at the same table, but she was sitting facing towards you at another table. Hopefully you and her would be able to make eye contact. You scanned until you see your name fall right next to someone who you would rather forget you treated so poorly. It was there in bright, bold red.

Joel Farabee.

“Aw man,” you and a voice said in unison. You looked up at your side to see that it’s him. Oh dear brother. Did you both just admit out loud that you don’t want to sit next to each other? You and him rolled your eyes at each other, huffing that you’ll be forced to be in each other’s presence.

And you knew he was thinking some sort of variation of what you were: how dare your teacher.

You trudged over to your seat and plopped down. He threw down his stuff and sat next to you. You could sense his extreme dislike for your rather serious demeanor. Hey, you could crack a smile.

Just not around him. And for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. It’s almost like if you did, you knew you would never stop...

You both avoided eye contact, you played with your pencil as he yelled to one of his friends across the classroom about some stupid video game.

And that’s just how it was for weeks. You’d both come in, sit down, he’d scream to his friends, you’d fight shooting him a really dirty look.

Until one day, you accidentally did. Now, later when you told Luna, you swore up and down you didn’t mean to, and it was just the fact that seventh period gym was terrible (but when was it not). Okay, so maybe you were fed up with him yelling about whatever rap song came out, or whatever Instagram model popped up on his feed (that made you shutter).

But what you did wasn’t really admittedly the nicest.

“Joel, do you always have to yell so freaking loudly?” you snapped.

He feigned a stunned expression, or maybe he really meant it, who knows what goes on in that boy’s seemingly empty head.

“Do you have to be such a downer…like all the time? Kinda ruins the vibe bro.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks Joel, because the number one thing I care about is ruining your ‘vibe’,” you put that word in air quotes, “and not getting any work done in this class, bro.”

Now he rolled his eyes. “Look, you could benefit from loosening up a little, you know? You’re kind of just, not a fun person.”

A look of real hurt flashed across your face. One that he caught. “No,” you punctually state. Then you turn your seat so you completely have your back to him and you’re facing the board.

Meanwhile Luna and your table-mates watched the whole situation unfold. Okay, and maybe most of the class.

And when the bell rang and he called your name, you simply decided you didn’t hear it.

“He’s calling you,” Luna prodded.

You just shook your head as you continued down the hallway to the bus. On the bus, you had some thinking to do.

Did he really think of you as...boring? You usually didn’t let the immature words of boys get to you, but this, this really hurt.

---------------------------------

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Luna insisted that evening while lying on your bedroom floor that same Friday evening.

“Yes he did, and he’s kind of right,” you begrudgingly conceded. “I haven’t been the nicest to him,” you sigh into your hands, “and maybe I should be.”

“Well, what’s stopping you?” Luna curiously asked.

“I, I don’t know.”

---------------------------------

The following Monday, you winced and leaned into Luna as you approached the classroom. To say you were terrified is an understatement.

But you took a deep breath, held your head high, and locked your face into a neutral expression. You never let anyone get the best of you, and you weren’t going to let Joel out of all people be one of the first.

Luna offered a small sympathetic smile as she made her way to her seat.

Your heart beated out of your chest anticipating his arrival. Sure enough, you caught him out of the corner of your eye. He took his time and strutted around the room to talk to all the friends he had. He was obviously looking to avoid you, too.

Coward.

Eventually, he made his way to his seat. He cleared his throat, but you didn’t budge. Ever heard of being saved by the bell?

“I’m going to hand back everyone’s quizzes from last class,” your teacher announced. You audibly groaned. That quiz did not go well. Who puts diamonds and boxes and something called factoring in math?

Sure enough, she shoved a C- into your sweaty hands.

“Dang,” you whispered.

You glanced over at Joel’s paper. 100%.

Are you kidding me?

His prying eyes had the audacity to spot your C-, as if you didn’t pry on his paper seconds before.

“That’s rough,” he said, trying to make eye contact with you.

“I- um, yeah, it is,” you choked out with your eyes still glued on your paper.

His heart broke when he heard your wavering voice. He had to do something.

“Can I see it?” He quietly asked, when quiet usually isn’t typically his demeanor.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Uh, sure?”

He took the paper and started drawing stars around the C- mark, very messily, may you add.

You went to take the paper back, but he moved it away from your grasp.

“One second,” he pleaded. He stuck his tongue out in concentration.

You tried to see how badly he was defacing your quiz, but the position of his arm prohibited you from peering over to see.

“Done,” he proudly said as he slid the paper back over to you.

Instead of a plain old C-, there was now...a C- with stars around it.

“Joel, this is very lovely and all, but why the stars around the C-?”

He smiled with his sickeningly sweet toothless grin, and your heart absolutely backflipped into oblivion.

“That’s not a C-,” he goofily joked, “that’s the moon, y/n,” he said through a smile. “See it?”

You looked up from your paper and looked at him in the eye. Your hands shook from adrenaline, your heart was fluttering, goodness, you didn’t know how you could feel any lighter.

That smile was going to be the death of you.

“Yeah, Joel,” you cracked a smile, “I do see it. Thank you,” you sincerely said.

Crack a smile.

You cracked a smile.

His heart skipped a beat. He knew instantly he was going to do whatever it took to keep that smile on your face for as long as possible. He didn’t care what he would have to do.

He smiled once more, and he turned to his buddies to shield his face from you. He didn’t want you to see how red it was turning. He proceeded to explain to them how perfect his stars were and how no one could top them. Something along the lines of “Bro, you have to see this one, it’s so perfect bro…” He also told them how he made you feel better while slapping his chest, for some reason, as in yeah, I made the mopiest girl in school smile. He sounded like he was priding himself on it.

His smile, the way he talked about you, those freaking stars. You’d let him draw those all over your arm instead any day.

At that age, you may not have known why there were letters in algebra, but you knew that the way he made you feel wasn't the same as you did with your two other crushes back in middle school. This just felt...absolutely weird.

But absolutely right.

And that’s the story of how at just fourteen years old, you knew you were absolutely screwed.

[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter One

Evan Golightly didn't consider himself an unlucky kind of guy. It wasn't like he was wandering around winning the lottery, but he also wasn't getting hit by chunks of blue ice from the sky from a passing airplane.

This week was just like every other week he had experienced so far. As he walked to his lecture across the university campus, he saw the same people he usually did and went to the same places as always. He didn't step on any cracks in the pavement, and he didn't walk under any ladders. He didn't find any four leaf clovers either, and he didn't have a lucky rabbit's paw on his key chain. He had a coffee cup in his hand – medium sized, not big and not small. 

He was a little late, because he had stopped to pet a black cat that lay on the pavement in front of him, but that was okay. The lecturer was very forgiving, and most people were a few minutes late anyway due to a clash in timetabling. 

Evan couldn't remember if seeing a black cat was good luck or bad luck. As the kitty purred and rubbed itself up against his fingers, he couldn't help but smile and talk to it quietly.

"Oh, you like that? You like the scritches? You're so handsome, such a handsome boy..."

Someone behind him coughed disapprovingly. A little embarrassed at getting caught, Evan straightened up and kept walking, forgetting all about whether black cats were lucky or not. 

As he approached the building where his lecture was held, Evan started climbing the concrete steps up to the entrance.

If luck could be charted on a bell curve, with some people being extremely lucky, and some being extremely unlucky, then Evan considered himself to be slap bang in the middle. If he entered the lottery, he might win one of the smallest prizes, but not very often. If he got onto a crowded bus, there would be a seat available, but not a very good one. If he chose answers at random on a test, he would get a 50% grade at the end. 

There was a meow from down by his feet. The black cat was following him. It had big green eyes which were staring at him as it meowed again. 

"I'm sorry, I would love to play with you, but I'm late," Evan said. He knew the cat didn't understand, but he still felt like being polite. 

The cat meowed very loudly and then started walking in between Evan's feet as he climbed the stairs. He started to worry that he was going to trip, slowing down and trying to shoo it away with his foot. It meowed again, but ran away, standing at a distance and staring at him. 

Evan had always been weak for cute things. He bit his lip. "Ahh, I'm sorry! Wait until my lecture finishes, I'll come back and give you scritches then!" 

He was almost at the top of the stairs now. Evan turned away from the cat – only to see a small black shadow out the corner of his eye down by his sneakers. He felt something brush against his leg, and then he tripped over something, and before he knew what was happening, he was falling backwards down the stairs. 

Evan let out a sharp cry, his arms windmilling around him as he went into freefall. 

Not the stairs... not the stairs! This was why he hated stairs! He always knew they would kill him one day! 

Before he could fall any further and roll down the stairs and smash like a boiled egg, he felt someone grab his arm and hold him still. His bag hit the ground and his coffee cup went flying, bouncing down the steps and spilling coffee everywhere, but Evan...

Evan was being held up at the top of the stairs by a strong, sure grip. 

He looked around in surprise. Holding his arm was a smiling youth with curly blond hair, tumbling in cherubic whorls around his ears. The youth looked just as shocked, his eyes big and wide as he stared at Evan. As he stopped Evan from falling. 

There was a moment of silence. The youth pulled Evan forward onto the flat ground at the top of the steps, and let go. 

"You..." Evan said in a rush. "You saved me! Thank you so much, I thought I was a goner..." 

The youth hesitantly smiled back, his eyes flickering down the stairs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just tripped on a–" Evan said, gesturing to the cat. 

The cat was no longer there. It had disappeared. 

"... Huh. Guess I tripped on nothing. Um, thanks. Oh, man, my coffee..."

The youth picked up Evan's bag and handed it over to him. His eyes were wide, like he was recovering from a sudden shock. "Sorry. I'll buy you a new one."

"Don't worry about it, it was my fault," Evan said with a laugh. "I owe you for saving me. I should buy you a coffee!" 

The youth looked at Evan. He couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were light grey, bright and cold, crinkling at the corners in a warm smile. "There's no need to thank me. You don't owe me a thing."

Evan had heard those two sentences before many times in his life. He had heard it from friends who had done him a favour, and from customer service workers who helped him get a discount for his broken laptop, and from the nice woman in the corner shop who sent his mom flowers when she heard his grandfather had died. 

They had always been said with varying levels of sincerity. A lot of people said "no need to thank me", but secretly wanted to be thanked very much. If you didn't thank them, they wouldn't help you in the future. People were weird like that. 

But when this guy said it, for some reason Evan understood that it was the absolute truth. Like it wouldn't matter if Evan thanked him or not – he would still help him. 

Feeling a little flustered, Evan scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I have a lecture now, so I better... uh, you're sure you don't want a coffee afterwards?"

The youth seemed to think about it for just a second too long, before shaking his head. His smile was apologetic. "It's fine. Enjoy your lecture." He started walking away. 

"Ah, uh, you too," Evan said in a panic, before quietly smacking his own face. He had no idea if the guy even had a lecture. Stupid, stupid, stupid... 

The youth came to a stop. He slowly turned around, an angelic, apologetic smile on his face. "Actually, I'm a little lost. Could you tell me where room M42 is?" 

"That's – that's where I'm going now! That's where my lecture is!" Evan gave him a wide grin. "Astro 228, right?"

The youth nodded. "Right."

"Just follow me, then. Huh... I didn't know we shared a class, sorry I didn't recognise you!"

"That's okay," the youth said quietly from behind him as they entered the lecture building together. "I tend to stay quiet." 

Watery winter sun did its best to shine through the floor length windows of the lecture building. It shone off the back of Evan’s pale neck, the black hair that fell in every direction. It reflected off the otherboy’s grey eyes, making them seem more luminous, more pallid, as they watched Evan with keen, unwavering interest.

Evan walked slightly ahead to lead the way. "Well, I definitely won't forget you now. You saved my life! What's your name?"

The youth was quiet. Evan waited for an answer for an uncomfortably long time, before wondering if he had spoken too quietly. He was about to repeat the question when a soft voice from behind him said "Ruth."

Ruth? Wasn't Ruth a girl's name? Was this guy actually a girl? "Oh, Ruth? Ahh, that's a cool name."

"You don't think it's weird? That a guy has a girl's name?"

Oh, thank god, he didn't have to try and subtly ask awkward questions about pronouns. Maybe the guy was used to this kind of thing and anticipated the awkwardness. "No, I don't think so. As long as you like it, then that's all that matters. I'm Evan by the way." 

The youth hummed. "I know." 

Now Evan felt guilty. He didn't even remember seeing this guy around, but he remembered Evan's name. Ah, this was too bad. He would definitely make an effort to remember him now. "Well, here it is. Just in time–"

"Actually, you go ahead," Ruth said suddenly. "I need to use the bathroom."

Evan turned around and blinked at him. "Oh. Sure. I'll see you in a bit, then."

The youth nodded. He hesitated, before speaking again.

“It was nice to talk to you.” 

He gave Evan one last beatific smile, before walking away and disappearing around the corner. Evan quietly let himself into the lecture and scurried to the back, mouthing "sorry" at the lecturer, who ignored him. 

He made sure to keep the seat next to him free for Ruth even as other students trickled in. 

The lecturer coughed several times to get the attention of the class. 

"So, last week I opened the lecture with the following quote: God does not play dice with the universe. This is oft quoted and attributed to Einstein himself in a letter to a friend criticizing what he saw as the unacceptable flaw in quantum mechanics, that is, the possibility of unpredictable random events on a molecular level. In many ways, he was right. We have been learning how to chart the movement of objects in a vacuum – predicting the orbits of distant planets and stars around the insatiable black holes that are, themselves, in a perpetual state of movement. I know that most of you have grasped the basics of this particular module very quickly. Predictability is a magnetic lure – one gets lulled into the false sense of security knowing that we can work out the trajectory of some far flung meteor to a high degree of accuracy. As if space can be imagined as some unfathomably large clock, each cog in place, every heavenly body caught in an eternal, rational, predictable waltz to the swing of a baton that, if only we have the numbers, might one day understand the rhythms of. If you turn your attention to the notes we made on how you can work out the speed of rotation of a planet..."

Evan tried very hard to concentrate and make notes. There was always a buffer at the start of the class where this particular lecturer went on a long tangent about random things he thought were interesting, and he usually zoned out through them, but once the actual maths was brought in, there was no possibility of daydreaming and letting it slip by. If you missed anything, you ended up being more confused down the line when the more complicated stuff got brought in. 

The poor girl next to him was doomed. She fell asleep almost immediately, and Evan lit a candle in his mind for her. RIP your grades, you snoozy bitch. At the same time, he was envious. Why couldn’t he take a nap instead of doing work?

He tried to concentrate, but all through the lecture, Evan couldn't help but keep looking at the doorway, wondering when Ruth was going to appear. How long did it take to use the bathroom? Did the poor guy have a stomach upset? 

By the time the lecture was over, Evan had accepted that Ruth wasn't going to appear. He lit a candle in his heart for the guy's bowel system. Clearly, he had been having some kind of toilet trouble and decided to skip the lecture. 

What a shame. He seemed so... interesting. 

After the lecture was over, Evan slowly clambered out of his seat. The lecturer had set a bunch of exercises to do at home, and the library was calling for a study session. Time to shuffle into Tesco to get a £3 meal deal and sit down for several hours to pound his brain into submission! 

"Hey, Evan," someone called out as they left the lecture. "Evan, wait up!" 

There was a girl chasing after Evan. She had warm brown skin and an infectious smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"Oh, sorry Aliya," he said, slowing down so she could catch up. "Did you enjoy the lecture?"

Aliya pouted. "No, are you insane? Enjoy it? Why did I do an astrophysics course again? There's so much maths. I genuinely think I would drop out if I didn't think my mum would kill me."

Evan nodded in agreement. "Sometimes I think about switching to an art degree instead. I won't do it. But I just think about it sometimes."

"Wait, wait, I wanted to ask you something," Aliya said, slapping his arm lightly. "House party. I've been invited, but I don't want to go alone. It's a bunch of people I don't know very well, and..."

Evan rolled his eyes. "If you don't know them, why are you going?"

"Because I don't know how to say no!" Aliya moaned. "It's a pretty casual thing, don't worry. You know I don't drink, so I'll probably be dipping early. Please? Please please please? Please just come for a little while, just to keep me company..."

Evan wasn't a prude. He liked a good party. The thing was that he liked a good party with people he knew. "And I don't know anyone there?"

"Probably not, they're all from netball club. But hey – you'll know me!" 

"I don't know you. Who are you. Why are you following me."

"Evaaaaan. Please! I'll do anything."

There was a long silence as they exited the lecture building together. Evan watched the students stream out of the building on their way to other classes, or the library, or their rooms to go back to sleep. 

He wasn't exactly great at making friends. Aliya was the only person on his course that he talked to regularly. It was why he was pretty excited to get to know Ruth, except he disappeared, so that was a bust. He tried a few clubs and societies, but none of them had really clicked so far. 

He hadn't been to a party in ages. He was wasting the best years of his youth in university, and he wasn't even going to parties. What was the point? He was living like a grandpa and he was only twenty one! 

He wasn't an old man yet! He didn't have a pension! He still liked electronic music!

Maybe this was the chance Evan needed to make new friends. How hard could it be? 

"Sure, why not." 

Aliya cheered. "Yay! Thank you, big guy. I owe you one. Oh, wow, watch your feet, it looks like someone spilled their coffee down the stairs... haha, poor them..."

Contents | Next Chapter

[purpletaecup]

7 ☾ i loved you. i’m sorry.

warnings: depictions of panic attacks

notes: writing the end of this chapter made me cry t^t luv u guys, thank you for the support. i love writing this story so much! feel free to send an ask to the IFU universe characters or vent to me about them! also, there is a picture in here that i drew!!!! it’s not that great but I hope you guys like it :-)

word count: 4,471

“Who are you?”

Those words echo in Yoongi’s ear as if it was his final judgment from the king of hell. He staggered but held onto the edge of your hospital bed to keep from falling. He could only look at you in shock and silence while the doctor came up from behind him and examined you.

“Miss Kim, how are you feeling? Is there any pain?” The doctor asked.

You rubbed and blinked a couple of times. Everything was still a little blurry.

“M’head hurts and my body is so sore,” you reply. “Why am I here?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Miss Kim?”

Rubbing your temples, you groaned in frustration, not remembering how you ended up in this hospital bed.

“I can’t remember. Everything’s really fuzzy right now.”

The doctor turns to Yoongi, who sat himself down on the chair further away from you.

“Do you recognize him?”

You looked at the man in the chair and examined him for a while. There’s a chill that runs through Yoongi’s body as he sees your eyes roam him from head to toe. He almost expects to see some kind of anger or resentment on your face, but receives nothing but confusion.

You turn back to the doctor shaking your head. He opens his mouth to say something but Yoongi beats him to it.

“It’s okay, doc, we can talk about that later, but is she okay? You said your head was hurting, right, Yn?” He says, looking back at you.

Cautiously, you nod at him before looking at the doctor again.

“It’s throbbing and it feels like there’s drums banging in my head.”

“This is all completely normal. You were in a pretty severe car accident and received a pretty worrisome head injury. You were unconscious for about five days, so your body has already started its healing process. In the coming weeks, you might experience some delayed symptoms related to the concussion you received.”

“What kind of symptoms? Is she going to be okay?” Though shocked as he was with your current predicament, Yoongi couldn’t help but worry even more.

“Mr. Min, if you would just let me continue, I can give you and Miss Yn all the answers you need. Because of the nature of the accident, she received a pretty bad head injury resulting in a concussion I believe to be grade II or III.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“It’s just a way to classify the severity of the concussion you received. Since you were in a car accident, you sustained a lot of other injuries but nothing too severe like broken bones. Miraculously enough, you managed to be wheeled away with only lacerations, bruising and a head injury. You were unconscious for about five days and you’re exhibiting signs of amnesia along with blurriness and headaches. These are all signs of a grade II or III concussion, though we won’t know which one until after a few more days of monitoring. Either way, there is the possibility of delayed symptoms like headaches, nausea and imbalance. After we’ve monitored your brain activity and symptoms for a few days, we can determine the grade of concussion clearly and proceed with treatment if needed. I’m leaning a bit more towards a grade II because you’re still able to speak and understand in a normal manner, but the memory loss is worrisome so we’ll have to monitor that and see if it lasts for over 24 hours or not.”

You groaned and tried to sit up straighter, but your muscles, so sore and unused for days, were making it difficult. Yoongi, who had inched closer and closer to you while the doctor spoke, held your hand in one of his while the other helped push you to sit up more comfortably. You murmur a soft thanks in his direction.

“I still don’t understand. You’re saying that I have amnesia, but I feel like I remember everything I should. I know my name, my parent’s names, my friends and my family’s names.” You begin to explain, not really understanding the whole ‘amnesia’ thing.

“How old are you? And what year is it?” The doctor asked while scribbling on your chart.

“19, and it’s 2016.” As soon as those words came out of your mouth, Yoongi fell into a quiet shock once again. Not only had you not recognized him, he was completely erased from your memory. You two met when you were 19, and in your head, you were 19 and you had no idea who he was, so your memory must have conveniently stopped sometime before you met him. He almost scoffs at the irony of it all.

“Miss Kim, you’re 23. You just turned 23 two months ago and it’s currently 2020. Today is the eleventh of November.”

The gasp leaves your mouth before you realize it. Your shaky hands lift up to cover your mouth and you feel tears well up in your eyes from the impact of the doctor’s statement.

“What do you mean? How can I just lose four years in my memory?” Your voice cracks when you ask and through the tears and the shaky breaths, you feel the ghost of a hand on your back.

“That, we don’t know. We haven’t seen an amnesia case this severe in decades, but that’s why we’re going to be monitoring you. Amnesia in head injury patients is pretty unpredictable, but most people who experience amnesia usually only lose memories within the day or at most a week, but it usually never lasts for more than a couple of days. You losing four years of memories doesn’t essentially correlate to how long it will take to regain those memories. For all we know, you could get them back tonight, but like I said, it’s pretty unpredictable.”

It takes a moment for all of it to sink in and absorb. Okay, so you lost four years of memories, but you might regain them soon. Although it’s not a guarantee, it’s still a possibility. You wipe the tears and you steady your breath before turning to the doctor once again.

“What’s he got to do with all of this? I still don’t know who he is or why he’s here.” You ask while pointing to the man beside you.

The doctor looks at you, then looks at him as if expecting him to take the floor and explain things himself.

“I’m Min Yoongi.” He holds out his hand intending you shake yours. You lift your wired up hand to his and he encloses it gently. It’s warm.

“Okay, Min Yoongi, that doesn’t explain how I’m supposed to know you?” You question again, a little bit of attitude in your voice.

It’s silent for a moment. Sensing the tension, the doctor excuses himself, telling them that he’ll send some nurses to help with your headaches and soreness.

Yoongi’s grip tightens on your hand. He contemplates for a little while about how to explain who he was in your life and who you were in his. Can he say that you’re his wife? Will that make it easier for the both of you since you were pregnant? But that was a lie, because you were divorced.

And he had lied to you enough times during your marriage. He thinks it might be the time to be more truthful.

“We were together for four years.” He starts. You wriggle your hand out of his, feeling a little too warm.

“Ah, if we were together for four years, how come I don’t remember you?”

Yoongi thinks about how to answer this one. He hums for a couple of seconds before he asks, “well, in your head, when did you turn 19?”

It was your turn to let a “hmm” pass your lips this time.

“Last week!”

“Okay, so in your timeline, we would have met next week. Two weeks after your birthday, on September 24.”

You nod your head in understanding, but you wince pretty obviously right after. The bruises are aching and you think it’s because you sat up for too long. Yoongi puts his hand on your arm and guides you to lay down.

“Here, just lay down and I’ll sit right here and answer your questions, okay?” He reassures.

After laying down, you try to move your body to the side so you could face where he was sitting.

“So how come you’re here and not my family members?” You asked after a minute’s silence, trying to think of a question to ask. If baffled you that this man you don’t even remember is the only one visiting you in broad daylight after a severe car accident.

“Jin was here with me the day of your accident. He said he was going to take care of you, but he got called in for work and had to travel out of the country a couple of days ago.”

“What about my mom?”

“Actually, I’m not really sure. Jin told me that she was abroad.”

“So you’re the only one left. Must be important if you were in my emergency contacts.”

“I was the only emergency contact you had according to the nurses.”

At this moment, Yoongi looked at you with sad eyes, but you didn’t know why. It felt like it was penetrating you and a nagging voice in the back of your head told you to stop looking at him.

Eager to ease the tension, you ask how the two of you met. Yoongi rests his elbow on the arm rest of the chair, plopping his chin down on his palm.

“Well, I had a music video shoot on the same day as yours. You were doing a photoshoot, I think, and you were using the same set room as me. I went there early to talk to the directors, but you were in the middle of your shoot and I just stayed. I asked my manager to ask for your number and we started talking and then I asked you to be my girlfriend on Halloween at a costume party.” There was a smile on Yoongi’s face when he recalled that particular memory.

He had no recollection of whose party it was, but you two showed up in the best costumes you could muster. Lydia Deetz in her wedding dress and Beetlejuice. The party was fun and the two of you had spent the night in the garden of the venue, just laying down and admiring the stars on Halloween night. It was nearing midnight when the both of you heard a countdown coming from inside. Why there was a countdown for midnight on Halloween, neither of you had a clue, but he took it as a sign and as the grandfather clock chimed, he gave you a gentle kiss and asked (whispered) you to be his girlfriend. 

He remembered your laughter from that night and it brought an even larger smile to his face.

You looked at him in awe, thinking his smile was simply breathtaking.

“So you fell in love with me at first sight, huh?” You asked teasingly.

Yoongi glared at you, but as soon as he spotted your little smirk, the glare melted away and a hesitant smile made its way on his face again.

“For your information, it was at first laugh.” He simply stated. At that, you gave a gentle smile and a quiet giggle into your hand.

In that moment, Yoongi was taken back to the early days of your relationship. The appearance of that gentle smile had catapulted him back to the happier days of your story. It was so different from you in the recent months. You, who had been so sad and exhausted and frustrated. Though pale and bruised and in a hospital bed, you looked much more youthful than before, as if you had reverted back to the person that was happiness personified.

“Right, okay. At first laugh. Never heard that before.”

“I’m serious. It was like hearing bells.”

“That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Good bells.”

You laughed again, a little scratchy this time. Yoongi handed you the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Okay, so you fell in love with me at first laugh, then what happened?” You asked, eager to find out about this story. At the moment, you really had no inkling of who this man was, but it intrigued you to hear your apparent love story. You loved a good love story and this one, yours, seemed to have a good start. Because you couldn’t recall it, hearing it from his mouth is like looking into your own love story from an outsider’s point of view.

Yoongi took the glass of water and placed it back on the table.

“Well, we got together obviously, and we were together for four years.”

“Past tense, so you’re an ex-boyfriend?” This was getting more interesting. You have always associated exes with heartbreak (at least the ones you remembered), so this was interesting. You must have been good friends after the breakup for him to be your emergency contact.

“Ex-husband, actually.”

Oh.

That stopped you in your tracks. Now, divorce was something you had never, ever thought about. Mentally, you were 19, and at 19, you were worried about your career. You had suffered your fair share of heartbreaks and cheating bastards in high school and swore off marriage until you got yourself together, so this revelation confused you a little bit. You two met when you were 19, but here you are at, apparently, 23 years old and you’re divorced. That’s actually… unbelievable.

“We started dating on Halloween technically, but I proposed in July and that’s when we agreed to celebrate our anniversaries even though that sounds kind of silly. You thought it would be cute to just have one single date to celebrate our anniversary. Something about Halloween being sacred to you.” Yoongi laughed a little nervously, eager to soften the mood just a little bit. He knows you don’t really remember, but it still feels strange to talk about your divorce.

“Wait, so break this down for me a little bit more. How long were we married for?”

“2 years. So I proposed the July after we started dating and then we got married a year later on the same date.”

“And when did we get divorced?”

Yoongi fiddled with his fingers a bit before answering, “ The end of September. We were drifting for  some months already, so I think divorce was the best option for us.”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was a little strange to be here, in a hospital bed, listening to this man (who is apparently your ex-husband) talk about your divorce. You felt like you should be feeling something more than this, but all you can feel is some kind of nonchalance, like you were listening to a lecture on a subject you didn’t like. Still, this was your love life, something you treasured with all of your heart, and the news of this divorce with a man you can’t even remember is shocking but in a detached way, if that made sense.

“That makes sense. No one should stay in a marriage where the feelings aren’t there anymore.” You say slowly, silently, absorbing this whole situation.

From your peripheral, you see Yoongi just nod, not saying anything. The silence that befell the two of you was somewhat comfortable but solemn at the same time.

The silence was interrupted by murmurs coming from Yoongi.

“Don’t worry. Even though we’re not together, I’ll still take care of you. You don’t have any immediate family and I’m the only one you really know in this city. The least I can do is take care of you.”

You look at him and shake your head. The independent part of you wanted to deny that. Even though you were mentally 19, in actuality you were 23 and you knew how to take care of yourself.

“It’s fine, Yoongi. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

That silences Yoongi for a bit. He remembers you saying that all the time, moreso during the time you decided to quit modelling. He was worried about you, but you always reassured him that there was nothing to worry about. You were a big girl. A woman. When these words came out of your mouth, it reminded him that although you didn’t remember much, you were still the woman he knew deep down.

Before he gets lost in his thoughts again, he lets out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I know you can, but you don’t even know where you live. Do you even remember how to drive? I remember you learned how to drive when you were 21.”

You furrow your brows, angry at his statements, but decide that you can’t refute since what he’s saying is completely true.

“Okay, valid. You can go home if you want, though. They said they were gonna keep me here for a couple of days, so you don’t have to come to the hospital until then, I guess. You look kind of rich… and famous, so you must be busy all the time.”

“I’m my own boss, so I can take my own time off, but I do need to go to the company to settle some things before you get discharged.”

As he talked, your eyes become droopy and were slow to blink.

“Yn, are you okay?” Yoongi asks as he moves closer to your face to examine you. Instinctively, you move back a little, but you’re still close enough to see his eyes up close. You decide to close your eyes.

You mumble a little. “Mhm, just sleepy. Head still hurts.”

Yoongi pulls the blanket up to cover up to your neck and fixes your hair so that it’s not in your face. The intimacy is strange, but not unwelcome, you think.

“Kay, just go back to sleep. I’ll go talk to your doctor then I’m going to the company, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow to give you some of your necessities.” He whispers.

You could barely hear him, but you nod anyways. The disappearance of his warm hand left a cold, empty feeling. Soon enough, you drifted off into sleep.

☽

Yoongi takes one last look at your sleepy form before he quietly leaves the room. He sees your doctor from the corner of his eye and walks up to him. Before he could ask anything, the doctor tells him that they have the results from a scan taken the day prior.

“There seems to be no traumatic damage to the brain, so we have high hopes about a smooth journey to recovery. Of course, she is pregnant, so that might make things a bit more delicate, but nothing that is too difficult to adjust to. She’s right in the middle of her first trimester, so you both really need to be careful. It’s already a miracle that the fetus survived. The rest is up to you guys.”

“And what about the amnesia?”

“We’re still confused about the memory loss. As I mentioned before, the last case of amnesia that was that severe was such a long time ago, and there was no explanation or pattern that was found in the brain to justify the timeline of the memory loss. 4 years is a really long time. We believe she might be more sensitive due to having such a huge gap in her memory. We don’t know what could trigger memories or how she would react to them, but you and the rest of her family should come up with things or events to stimulate her brain activity and remind her of some of the memories that she lost.”

“That sounds reasonable. I don’t want to overwhelm her too much, so I held back a lot when I was talking to her today. If it’s possible, can we hold off on telling her about her pregnancy? At least until I come back and I can tell her myself. I tried to take the day off today, but I have to deal with the company first so I can be here when she’s discharged.” Yoongi explained.

The doctor looked nervous at first, but thought about it for a while.

“Yes, I think that might be for the best. Waking up in an unfamiliar place with no memories of the past four years can be very overwhelming so it might be easier to ease her into the news. Thank you Mr. Min, we’ll call you when there’s news.” The doctor says before holding his hand out for a handshake.

Yoongi let out a small smile as he shook the doctor’s hand.

“Yes, please let me know if anything happens and if her situation changes. I’ll be back tomorrow to drop off a new cellphone for her so it’s easier to contact people. I’ll see you then, doc. Thank you so much for your hard work.” Yoongi couldn’t help but praise him for being such a helpful person during a difficult time for both him and you.

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Min. It makes me happy to see how devoted you are in taking care of your wife and future child.” The doctor smiles at him and pats his shoulder roughly before he walks away whistling.

Yoongi only stared at his back as he walked away from him. Devotion. That wasn’t something he was used to.

☽

He’d gone home that night and contemplated the strange encounter that you both had today. The initial shock he received when realizing that you couldn’t recognize him, worse yet remember him, was swept away quickly by your questions about your relationship with him. As the night ended and he tucked himself into his bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation today.

It was the most civil conversation you’ve had since before the divorce. It was basically the only conversation you’ve had since the divorce. The more he thought about it, the more he zoned out of the reality in front of it. He thought about your teasing smile when you asked if he fell in love with you at first sight. He thought about your laugh, like bells, when he corrected you and said it was love at first laugh. It was like the fates turned back time to when you two first met. It was like he was seeing you for the first time again.

The you from today was such a stark contrast from the you that Yoongi had lived with in the months leading up to your divorce. Being reminded of what you were like back then and comparing it to the person you turned into after 4 years together made his heart beat faster. He didn’t know what it was but thinking about how you changed, how you grew, made him nervous. These weren’t fluffy feelings of romance or admiration. It seemed to be more like fear. He looked down at his hands and realized that they were shaking. As the shaking continued, he noticed his breathing getting shorter and shorter. He didn’t know what was happening but having these thoughts made him feel so scared.

The tears escaped his eyes before he even realized he was crying. He had never experienced this before. His heart was beating so fast and he couldn’t stop shaking or crying but all he could focus on was your soft smile today and every time he saw it in his head, it crumbled into the 23 year old you who sobbed into her hands in front of him. He just kept thinking and thinking and thinking and it made him cry into his palms more and more. Behind his closed eyes were images of the two of you through the years and the way you had changed from a beautiful, happy person who could probably make the sun and all the planets stop into a sad, quiet, reserved woman who preferred to stay at home and be alone with your paper and your words.

Did he do that? Did he do that to you? Did he make you that sad? Was it his fault that you pulled away from him? Was it his fault that you two fell apart as catastrophically as you fell in love? Was he the reason for your accident?

No, no, no, no. He cried and cried and couldn’t breathe. I didn’t do that, I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t mean to do that. I loved you. I loved you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

-

At the same time, you woke up in your hospital bed, shocked by a nightmare that eventually dulled and became forgotten as soon as you woke. You felt like there was something important that the dream told you, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Instead of trying to remember, you looked up at the ceiling of your hospital room and contemplated on your strange encounter with your so-called ex-husband today. Mentions of the divorce were vague, so you didn’t focus on it much. He told you a love story that you wouldn’t have believed if you hadn’t lost your memories. You smiled as you remembered that way he told you he fell in love at first laugh. There was a twinkle in his eye when he said that, but you still noticed a twinge of sadness and regret behind it all.

“For your information, it was at first laugh.”

You closed your eyes and tried so hard to remember anything, just the smallest thing, to confirm whatever Yoongi had told you, but nothing came to you except for a barrage of tears that was so sudden it shocked you. You tried to stop crying, but you couldn’t. You tried to laugh but it only ended in broken sobs. There was a hurt in your chest that you couldn’t precisely describe. It was sharp, and it hurt your heart, like it was breaking little by little. It wasn’t happiness. Not at all. It felt like a sadness that you hadn’t ever felt before (or at least your 19 year old self), but you couldn’t possibly remember why you felt like this. The tears kept coming and coming and it frustrated you so much that you didn’t know why you were crying like this. You just wanted to remember something about your marriage, your relationship, and Min Yoongi. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling like this.

Of course, though the memory is lost, the hurt and sorrow that your heart had gone through couldn’t be forgotten. At least not by your body. It was a sadness so deep in your bones that not even the loss of the memories associated with this hurt could erase it.

☽

← masterlist → 

taglist 1: @victoriedulce @yoongistruth @rebeccawoodrow @moon-asia @koochiekoo @sonderkook @fangirling-gallifreyan @teresaisla @veronawrites @haeilove @rjsmochii @mama-m0chi @agustd-2020 @imluckybitches @dreamer95 @coldfreakeggsexpert @rjsmochii @loveyoongles @selfproducingfanfictionauthor @mr-robot-x​ 

[scientia-rex]

Reporting back on this whole "how is life as a new attending" thing: well, the good news is I have money and a lot more time. The bad news is I'm still me.

So we're buying a house--it's taking forever but it's also a really great house that's not like a mansion-mansion but is light-years beyond what anyone else I know my age who isn't a doctor or the child of rich people can afford--and I'm really, really excited about it. But I'm also still depressed, on an SNRI for it, getting godawful night sweats because of the SNRI for it, and prone to severe acid reflux and chronic nausea. Also, there's a random spot in my right lower quadrant that occasionally hurts like hell for no apparent reason and deep down I'm terrified that it's my appendix thinking about getting real infected and rupturing, or an ovarian cyst that starts to torse and then de-torse, or an endometriosis explant that's going to finally burrow all the way into my intestines one of these days and give me, I dunno, sepsis or a hemorrhage or something. Any one of those could spontaneously become a life-threatening surgical emergency with no warning. So yes, I still have anxiety.

I have started to resume something resembling a normal human sleep schedule. I only took a week (technically just under a week) off after graduating from residency. I'd already passed the boards so as soon as residency was officially over and my program director submitted the final things I was board-certified. Which is fucking bananas! I'm still me! I'm still just a weird chump with frizzy hair, two to three chins at any given time and slowly developing jowls, a mustache and over the last couple of years a beard I savagely beat into submission with my favorite tweezers every fucking day, the short-term memory of a goldfish, zero ability to remember anyone's face or name but a near-godlike recall for bit-part actors in television shows based on just a few seconds of hearing their voice, a long-term obsession with Sherlock Holmes since the 4th grade back in the early 90s long before Moffat put his greasy mitts all over them, and some weird kinks I literally never talk about because I don't want to. I am such a peculiar, obsessive, hoarding, strident freak! And now I'm a board-certified physician. Jesus Christ. The only thing worse than knowing that I'm a doctor is knowing that my classmates are doctors. Not the ones from residency, they're all cool, but the ones from my actual medical school. You know! The ones who accidentally boned the same woman on an away rotation they did sequentially and then made homophobic jokes about sloppy seconds! Those ones! The ones who wore shirts with boner jokes on them to class while being devout Mormons who thought women belonged in the kitchen! The one who said awful things about Tamir Rice and then said he couldn't be racist because his nephew was black! THOSE ASSHOLES! THEY'RE PROBABLY ALSO DOCTORS NOW! I don't know for sure because I'm not friends with any of them on Facebook because they're horrible assholes and I called them all homophobic and racist and sexist to their fucking faces, but DON'T TRUST DOCTORS UNTIL OR UNLESS THEY SHOW YOU A REASON TO.

Anyway, I've been finding some solace in obsessively looking at different things I might get for our house. We're closing soon, thank God, but the current owners wanted to stay until the end of August because they're building a new house and it won't be done until then (and do I believe it will actually be done then? No.) and we wanted to be very attractive buyers in this godforsaken housing market where you have to bring an elephant's weight in gold and several wine bottles of your own blood to even get a chance, so we said sure, so we're still a month and a half from moving in. UGH. It's worth it, but it's giving me all the anxiety. I feel paralyzed, because I can't do shit about most of the planning and decorating until I'm actually in the space. And somehow I can't do any of my other hobbies, either. I can't write. I can't bake. I've been getting stoned more often than usual, but I did that on Friday night and frankly it just annoyed me because I didn't enjoy losing the ability to string my thoughts together. Sometimes I'm really in the mood to get stoned and it feels lovely and freeing, and sometimes it's just an annoying hindrance.

And I can't drink because my acid reflux is so bad right now. I doubled up on the omeprazole, which I never tell patients to do, and it did help some, but I'm still always one acidic beverage away from feeling like I'm going to die. I threw up a couple of months ago and I honestly think it was from just having too much acid in my stomach for my body to cope with. So naturally I'm worried I've got one of those crazy tumors, starts with a Z, Zollingers? that tells your stomach to make acid. Do I? Almost certainly not! Will that stop me from worrying about it? Boy howdy, no!

However, I have had some really nice moments. Last week I had a patient who had a history of migratory polyarthralgias. He'd never been definitively diagnosed, though he'd been tentatively diagnosed with gout based on presentation and placed on allopurinol. He was sitting in my office with a huge, swollen, painful knee, and I thought, well fuck it he needs a knee aspiration. Have I done one of those before? No! But I've put enough corticosteroids and hyaluronic acid into knees that I figured I had a good shot at getting something out, and it wasn't pretty but I did it. I got a good sample of knee juice all by myself. It felt great. For me. The patient was in a substantial amount of pain. However, it did give us a definitive diagnosis--birefringent monodium urate crystals! That's gout, baby! Sure, it presented a little weird, but because I stuck a big-ass needle into his knee now we know for sure and I wrote him for colchicine, which somehow no one else had???? despite the diagnosis of gout on his chart???????

I haven't really felt completely at sea much at all these first couple weeks of being an attending. I have an MA who is a sweet ray of sunshine and she is very determined to do a good job, and we get along well. I'm slowly settling in. I feel more and more like a real doctor and less like some crazed impostor wearing a doctor suit every day.

There's bad stuff, plenty of it, but overall I'm feeling pretty lucky. Mostly. Except for how today I had a bunch of caffeine and dairy, so my stomach is telling me that this was a Mistake. But! In counterpoint, the Baskin-Robbins Flavor of the Month was really delicious, and I regret very little. Not nothing, but very little.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Civic Auditorium Arena in Omaha, NE, USA - September 13, 1980

(x)

(x)

Fan Stories

“I don't know if anyone has ever been able to appreciate a rock concert as much as I did when I saw Queen at age 7. I knew the order the songs were supposed to be in, the way the stage was supposed to look, and what the band was supposed to do. And everything happened perfectly. Except for that damn mustache. Late summer 1980, I was pestering my mom to take me into town to get candy. She said, "Do you really want to get candy, or would you rather get tickets to see Queen?" I stopped in my tracks and started being the nicest boy you could imagine. I thought maybe she was kidding, but knew she wouldn't kid me about something like that. I guess my dad had already OKd it too. Like Axl Rose once said about Queen: "They meant everything to me." We drove all the way to Omaha to get tickets: they were $9 in advance, or $11 the day of the show if still available (though now I'm not sure how they weren't sold out immediately). I'm still not quite sure why Queen was playing smaller arenas at that point, since I think they had already begun playing stadiums. Finally, September 13 arrived. I was in 2nd grade. Ads had been all over the radio for this concert. One of my baby-sitters and two of her friends rode up with us also, and they went off on their own when we got there. The show was one of those infamous "general admission" things, so our seats depended solely on how early we arrived. I think we got to the arena at about 9 am... almost a full 12 hours before the show actually started (much longer in 7-year-old hours). A single word, "QUEEN", was boldly displayed on the marquee above the many doors where small lines were beginning to form. Excited bands of people were running/gathering everywhere. Queen was one of the biggest five bands in the world at that time: "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" was on the charts, The Game had just been released, and "Another One Bites the Dust" was soon-to-be released as a single. We picked one of the lines and got ready for what was indeed halfway dangerous: the growing mob of people ready to run in when the doors would open. This was a big issue of the time, as it was the year before that 11 people were crushed to death at the turnstiles of a Who concert. (An episode of the TV show W.K.R.P. in Cincinnati even focused on this.) People were starting to press onto the transparent doors trying to look inside, when suddenly there was the sound of tires screeching from the street: a white limousine honked twice and sped around the corner toward the other side of the arena, and was gone within seconds. The "big kids" screamed and ran after it; I was too small to do this, but we got better places in line! When everyone came back, they said they actually saw Freddie and John get out of it and be scuffled into the building before getting attacked by the mob of people. In the meantime, others around us were starting to talk to my mom. Two of them were a man and a lady who were apparently on date, and they ended up even staying by and sitting by us through the show. Some other people also offered to kind of stay around my mom and I to make sure I'd be safe on the way in. A couple of times, a big fat drunk guy yelled out, "Who's your favorite group?" and of course everyone yelled "Queen!"

Now people were beginning to bang on the doors of the entrance. I think the doors finally opened at around 11 am. When they did, we and other people from several sides of the arena moved in, towards those coming in from other doors on opposite sides: within seconds, everyone had funneled from outside to stopping cold in the lobby, having basically run into each other. This is exactly where everyone stayed for the next two hours. A human shield of several people were intact around my mom and I preventing my being crushed... and all I could see for two hours were a bunch of butts! Once in awhile someone would try and lift me up to see all the people. From the distance, the drunk guy again repeated the "Who's your favorite band?" line a couple of times, realizing that more people could hear him now that he was indoors and echoing, and everyone gave the appropriate response. By the fifth time, only the drunk people were responding to him, and by the tenth time people were laughing and moaning. Every so often, some loud music would come out of the arena like a band was tuning-up, but it wasn't Queen music so everyone figured it was just the opening act. At 1 pm, the turnstiles were finally opened. I was kind of keeping my guard around me as everyone pressed forward, and everything was moving faster the closer we got, but by surveying the area I thought I'd be safe. I had my ticket in my hand. The guy from the couple was going to try and enter first, then me, and then my mom. When I got to the turnstiles, my mom and the guy grabbed my arms on both sides and completely hoisted me over. A surprised old man tore my ticket while I was in mid-air. Suddenly, we were standing relatively calmly inside: the difficult part was over, and we were at least safe from here on out. People were still running everywhere and screaming, but the hallways were pretty big so it wasn't too dangerous as long as we stayed toward the edge. Most people were still outside, since we were somewhat early. An older 12-year-old tore around the corner, then his '70s-style tennis shoes screeched against the floor and he fell down for a second as he decided to which way to go. We knew we were sort of on a mission to walk fast toward a balcony and just get seats instead of wandering around indecisively like others. We went straight up toward the second level balcony, as others ran the opposite way down to the main floor. My mom and I and the people we'd befriended walked right next to the wall, and I pressed against it while just a few feet away scattered groups of people would sometimes run by full-speed. I would have wanted to be on the main floor, but my mom had previously explained to me how, unless we were in the balcony, we would have to actually stand through the whole show (there weren't any chairs on the main floor) and would hardly be able to see anything. Plus, along with the horror stories of people running in at the beginning of a rock concert, I had also heard how people supposedly got crushed to death against the stage... so sitting in the balcony was just fine with me. We got two seats in the front of the second balcony, just by the railing to the balcony below. We were on the right side of the arena, about halfway back, so we couldn't complain. Now, I knew this was the beginning of the biggest wait: sitting in the same spot from 1 in the afternoon to about 9 at night.

The main parts of the stage I liked (from viewing the pictures in my Live Killers album) were intact: the steps were lined with lights under Roger's drums, and middle of the main stage had a small plank stage that stuck out for Freddie to walk on, where the crowd could touch him but not too easily. Most of the instruments, and all of Roger's drum set, were covered in giant sheets of plastic. I'd never seen such big speakers; I had a flashback when I saw the black and white photo to the right because that's what they looked like with the house lights up. Throughout the afternoon, the lights in the arena would go out, then come back on... like we were being teased. Finally when it was about time for the opening band, the lights went off longer than usual and the band took the stage. The opening band was someone we had never heard of, and my mom and I both can't even remember who it was now (two people have e-mailed me saying it was a band called "Dakota"). I don't think they had any hits, and then apparently disappeared soon after. The crowd tolerated the first two or three songs. Then, every song ended with "Just one more song!" much to the audience's vocal dismay. I went on a trip to the bathroom, and they were still playing when I came back. Then they left. Ten minutes later, they came back and said "Just one more song!" and I think they played three. People were yelling, "We want Queen!" People were getting harsh to the point it was just uncomfortable even seeing the band on the stage. Everyone cheered when they left. The lights came back on. Another two hours. Just seeing them walk across the stage would have been enough for me, so at that age I really couldn't comprehend being in their presence for a whole two-hour concert. This wait was easier though because every second we knew the show could start. Seeing Queen still seemed like it was too good to be true, like some act of God would occur just before the show to prevent it. Then, the lights went out. There's no feeling like the wait in total darkness just before a Queen concert. It was 10 minutes of black and the loudest screaming I'd ever heard. I remember it was "scary" and so I think Brian might have also been playing the weeping guitar sound like the beginning of the We Will Rock You concert video. It was a good scary feeling though, like going up the first hill of a roller coaster. After several minutes of intense darkness and the crowd screaming, when I felt like my ears didn't have room for any more sound to enter (though I loved it), the even louder sound of thunder clapped across the arena with an incredibly blinding light. I could see everyone on the main floor have to turn completely around in unison toward the back of the arena because the lights were so bright. I kept trying to glance at the stage to see what was happening, but it was too bright to see anything... plus, in between the flashes, it was too dark to see anything. It was sort of an unnerving state, being totally blinded in that big of a place with that many people, and coming to the realizaton that it would be unthinkable to actually move around and that we were basically helpless. I was holding my mom's hand. Queen had the whole crowd paralyzed in their tracks before the show even began.

I'm not sure if the lights all rose up like in the We Will Rock You video or not (since we couldn't see), or if they were already raised because of the opening band. Eventually the thunder and noise turned to music. Finally, through my wincing, Freddie Mercury was suddenly in front of my own little eyes on the front extended stage in all the smoke. I'd never even seen a celebrity in person before, much less my idol at the time. I didn't think they would open with the fast version of "We Will Rock You" for some reason, since that's at the beginning of the Live Killers album and I thought they would want to do something different, but was surprised that they opened with a non-Queen song: "Jailhouse Rock". The stage looked similar to that in the We Will Rock You concert video, with the smaller panels of lights replacing the single giant panel from previous tours; however, I'm certain there was at least another entire, higher level of moving lights (not only from seeing them at the concert, but also looking at the pictures for years afterwards). The lights in the We Will Rock You video seem extremely cut-back. Instead of one row of panels of lights across the back of the stage, the panels were all over the place and the ones above the band moved straight up and down on poles and tilted back and forth. There were also little men somehow sitting amongst the panels who manually operated at least a dozen spotlights, and more guys doing this from a small section hanging down from the ceiling at the middle of the arena. Since the spotlights were directed from the top of the arena, there wasn't a big bulky spotlight booth in the middle of the main floor taking up space, and the audio booth was placed along the right side of the arena (down not to far from us) so it wasn't in anyone's way. In the darkness between a lot of the songs, flashlights darted around the stage... we couldn't figure out if it was the band or engineers setting things up. Thankfully, no one came out on stage before the show to announce the band (I've always thought this is really cheesy). Freddie had on those red leather pants with the blue knee-pads... and, unfortunately, that ugly mustache! "What do you think about my new mustache?" Freddie asked. (Mixed applause.) "Some people don't like it, but I just say 'fu** 'em.'" (Crowd goes wild.). Freddie drank some water, then tossed the rest out onto the crowd along with his cup. He tossed his tambourine out later, and I couldn't imagine what it would actually be like to touch it. Freddie also had that long silver microphone stand that he always danced around with in the videos. He was running all over the place; one second he was on the plank at our side of the arena, the next at the other side. The three high school girls who rode up with us were excited because when he went to the end of one of the planks he ended up level and close to them in the balcony (but upset because, had one not been on crutches, they would have stayed on the main floor where Freddie tossed his tambourine!). Once or twice I remember looking into the middle of the arena and some kind of explosion occurred in mid-air (apparently launched from the lighting duct at the top of the arena). There weren't that many lighters in the audience, but instead everyone was using those green glow-sticks that come out around Halloween (I think these were new at the time). The audience kept throwing their green glow sticks up on the stage until at times it was covered, and more than once Brian kicked off some back into the audience (and I think he might have been getting upset but I'm not sure!).

There were numerous parts of the show I knew had to be there... and they all were. The first was the "scary" sound effects and section of "Get Down, Make Love", where Queen showed off their lights. (At that age, I thought the erotic sound effects were simply supposed to represent the monster breaking-in on the cover of News of the World). Smoke shrouded the band, as the panels of lights took over and moved around to the audience's ooohs and aaahs. My mom and I were trying to figure out what was on Roger's bass drum, since it didn't look like an album cover; it turned out to be the white "face" design, also in the We Will Rock You video. Back then, concerts didn't have big video screens, so we just had to use the binoculars that we'd brought. Some spotlights were gathering on Freddie and Brian as they went to sit on two stools toward the right of the stage, and my mom got excited because we knew "Love of My Life" was coming. Freddie announced, "This is our first time in Omaha... " as the song started, and got the crowd to sing along like on the Live Killers album. Meanwhile, I had become a source of info for those around who wanted to know what the songs were; every time a new song would start, people would ask me what it was! I really don't know if anyone has ever actually been able to appreciate a concert as much as I did that night: I was only 7, but had every album except the first two, and knew every song they played except maybe two or three. But what's interesting is how fans often wish they could experience how a "classic" band was 20 years prior... and this is strangely how I felt I was experiencing the show, because at my age it seemed like Queen had been around 20 years. There were parts of the show, including the stage design, that were "legendary" to me, but were only 2-3 years old in reality. Now, 20 years later, they're legendary to everyone else. Periodically, the guy next to me changed the tape in his "hidden" tape recorder. We knew the show was close to the end when "Bohemian Rhapsody" began. Everyone clapped to the pre-recorded opera section, and as the Live Killers liner notes say: "The audience and the lights take care of the rest." The crowd went nuts when Roger hit the famous gong at the end.

I think there were two or three more songs, and then everything went black for about 10 minutes. Could it be that they were actually not going to play the standard "We Will Rock You/We Are the Champions/God Save the Queen" closing? The house lights may have even come on for awhile, then went back off. A few people were starting to leave, and I kept telling my mom that they had to end the concert that way, because that's the only way a Queen concert ends... but then even I was having doubts. Finally, the yellow lights around the gong all turned on, pointing directly on Roger, who started the drums of "We Will Rock You" and everyone stomped their feet and clapped. Of course "We Are the Champions" was next, and Freddie shook some of the hands flailing in front of the stage while singing it. I remember there was one hand jumping up and down that never got shook! Freddie bent his neck way back when he sang "... of the world!" at the very end like I knew he was supposed to from videos on TV, and we hoped for another song but knew that was probably going to be it. A grand finale of Queen's famous pyrotechnics began shooting everywhere from the stage, the lights were all moving around, and everyone was jumping all over in the aisles. Soon the pre-recorded Night at the Opera version of "God Save the Queen" did begin playing...but, nobody really sang to it since this is America and no one knows the words! At this point, I tried to make sure I was truly fathoming what it was like to actually see the band members in front of me since they'd be gone soon. Freddie was still dancing around and danced out a little door behind the drums, and the rest of the band followed one-by-one, with John being last as he waved to everybody one last time. The lights flickered and moved some more to the rest of the song, slowly going dark along with the rest of the arena, with the final rise of the crowd's applause. Perfect. Except for that damn mustache. We walked down what seemed like endless spiraling stairs on the way out...extremely slowly this time. My ears had that weird "ringing" feeling like everyone said I'd have, but that I'd never experienced before. Spotlights were panning the sky outside. We said goodbye to the couple we'd been with during the show. A guy in his late 20s started talking to us on the long way out; he laughed and told me how he'd also had to argue with his mom who said Queen would never come to Omaha. My mom asked him if he thought I'd even remember the whole thing since I was so little. He looked down at me, saw my grin from ear-to-ear, and said, "He'll never forget this."” - Jim

[uwua3]

hello hello would it be okay to ask for some fluffy and romantic headcanons for tenma with a childhood s/o? they were both in the entertainment industry, but s/o is now playing music in a band (like bang dream!) thank you thank you!

hi anon~ of course!!! 🥺 i never actually got into rhythm beat games because i simply Lack The Talent to play them T___T please excuse me if i say anything wrong~

summary: tenma promised he’d perform with you at your first stadium show, but will he keep his word?

warnings: unhealthy/strict parents

author’s note: i incorporated So Much Stan Twt culture in this, i swear. please look forward to fanboy! tenma and this super cliché, cute headcanon with you as tenma’s first friend/crush!!! sunshine x sunflower couple rise up ♡ this may be slightly ooc + i used poppin’ party’s sunflower dreams lyrics towards the end!!!

word count: 6,795

music: sunflower dreams – poppin’ party

sunflower dreams!

🌻☀️ sumeragi tenma

you were born to be on stage

tenma remembered thinking that the first time he saw you singing into that off mic, absolutely living out your idol dreams in that music room with a guitar much too big for your tiny kid self

you and tenma were about eight years old, and that was the first time he had a crush on anyone before

it was elementary. tenma was already recognized country wide, he was the it child star of the decade, his fame catapulted him to great success early on with two acting parents in the entertainment business

but, why didn’t he have friends, then?

everyone he talked to as a child suddenly didn’t look at him the next day. every time tenma asked his parents, it was always the same answer: “they’ll do nothing for your career, focus on acting”

so when he found you sneaking into the music classroom and stealing one of the teacher’s guitars to use, strumming even if you didn’t know any notes, tenma hid behind the door as he listened

you had a voice made for stardom. you sang like you were performing for a stadium of thousands of fans, you did it confidently as if you’ve been in the industry for years, and you jumped around like this was the last song of your life

you loved music, and before you knew it, tenma became your first and biggest fan. he arrived at the same time everyday after school to sit outside the music practice room and hear you sing again

eight–year–old tenma didn’t know why he lied to his parents, claiming he was just catching up on schoolwork due to his acting career. his grades didn’t change, but it didn’t matter when he got to hide in the corner of the corridor and push his short frame to the ledge of the window to see you playing the guitar

one day, tenma was back again in his usual spot, standing on his tippy–toes to peek into the classroom as always, knowing he was in for a show for the next hour or so before his driver picked him up

it was supposed to be another regular one–man concert all for himself, where he applauded silently for the aspiring musician. but, as you were singing a song you had practiced for a while now, your eyes met his mid–strum of the guitar

you stumbled on your notes and fell silent, eyes wide at the bright orange hair that disappeared behind the wall instantly. before you could react, you heard the squeak of sneakers against the floor as a blur of the school uniform ran past the door and away into the hall

you recognized that face immediately, who wouldn’t? sumeragi tenma was the most popular elementary student ever in the district despite always being alone. you contemplatively stared at the spot where tenma hid, wondering how long he had always been there.

it was the next day and tenma was hesitant, nervousness taking over as his face flushed from yesterday’s events. he was so careless, he couldn’t believe he let himself be discovered like that! tenma rubbed his face, groaning with the stress of an adult as he stood at the entrance of the music hallway

it’s not like he could go anywhere else without getting in trouble, so here he was, returning to visit the school’s secret singer because he wanted to hear the music. but, he seemed like a stalker! tenma swore he just wanted to hear guitar (he pretended like you weren’t his first crush)

before tenma could become chicken and run away from the confrontation, he heard a few familiar notes before you began singing. the recognition kicked in as tenma creeped closer, poking his head around the open door frame with a curious look as you stood dancing around in the middle of the room, already smiling at him

you were singing the ost of the latest drama he was in!

did you learn it just for him? tenma was about to ask, but you ran over, not letting him get away this time as you tossed him a fake mic (which he embarrassingly almost didn’t catch)

were you asking for a duet? your guitar skills had gotten much better over time, in fact, little tenma couldn’t tell the difference between you and the professional who originally played it! tenma felt himself get into the music as you dragged him to the center, giving him an opening to join

tenma took it, and before you two knew it, there was no need to exchange any words as you two sang your heart out without any care in the world to the pop ost

for once in his life, tenma felt like this was what it was like having a friend! he always had those on screen, but this felt real. like, these were the childhood memories he always had to act out for the camera, just yelling lyrics loudly surrounded by instruments and a friend who learned his ost just to make him happy!

out of breath, tenma panted as you played the final notes, letting it hang in the air as the incoming warm air entered through the open windows. you two’s shadows struck final idol poses, like you were actually on stage

a moment of silence passed before you grinned, yelling a celebratory “yes!” as you held your hand out for a high five. tenma just weakly put his palm against yours, trying not to blush from the contact (was this what it was like, holding your hand?)

“dude, we need to start a band!” you exclaimed, not even looking tired as tenma wiped the sweat from his forehead with a grimance. maybe not the right decision if he didn’t have the stamina to be a chart–topping singer

“i... i don’t play any instruments—” tenma started shyly, wringing his hands together before you shook your head rapidly, putting your hands on your hips with an exasperated expression

“but we’re friends!” you insisted, not giving him time to answer as you threw him another water bottle (you had brought an extra, hoping tenma would come by again)

tenma stared at you, shocked as he gripped the water bottle between his small hands. friends? already? was... was this tenma’s first real friend? and his first band, apparently?

you rearranged your items, setting up your music sheets as you quickly glanced over the notes. you could sight read, and you learned it all by yourself, you were so talented, but you wanted to be friends with him?

when you lifted your head with a bright grin, passion within your eyes for music, tenma nodded with determination as he tightened his grip on the bottle. it was his first gift from his first friend

“yeah, we’re friends! let’s do it!” tenma said, watching as you cheered again and confidently high–fiving you this time (last second, you switched your hand to a fist and called it a ‘turkey’. whatever that was)

and that, was the start of the two–man duo band as tenma made his first friend (and crush)

you two grew up together, with tenma prospering in his fame as a multitalented child prodigy

despite his hard–earned popularity as an actor, tenma was never ever late to band practice! you two came to the unlocked music room every day after school, with props as microphones and animatedly daydreaming about stage costumes and the feeling of the lights upon your glowing faces

“do you ever dream about being on stage, ten?” you’d ask, gazing out at the sunset as you fiddled around with the drumsticks, attempting to pick up the beat as your eyes flickered from the orange sky to the worn down drums. tenma would just shrug, laying on the floor after a particularly hard song as he lazily strummed your favorite guitar

(this explained the callouses on your fingers despite being so young, you had rougher hands than him)

“i don’t know, i’m already on t.v.” tenma would justify, just staring at the ceiling as he’d watch the shadows of the trees outside against the surface. these were the moments he remembered the most, where you two took a break from the music and talked endlessly until it was time to go home

“i mean, it’s all scripted, right?” you asked, satisfied as you put your sticks down after finally acing that one technique you struggled with. tenma unstrapped the guitar and rolled to his side, propping his head up with his arm as he considered your question

“yeah... i guess it is.” tenma figured, about to go back to play with the strings before you landed next to him, facing him in the same position as you smiled

you always had that smile whenever you ranted about your ‘big break’, your rise to stardom and dreams to be the #1 global singer in the world (tenma never brought you down to earth, not even for a second)

“on t.v., you can just edit it out, right? but on stage, it’s all live. if i make a mistake, everyone knows.” you furrowed your eyebrows, looking too serious for a young child as you looked past him, as if you were imagining what could go wrong

before tenma could snap you out of it, your eyes landed back on him and you giggled, flopping onto your back as you put your arms across your chest

“that’s what’s so exciting about the stage, ten. every time i go out there, i’m always gonna do my best! i’m gonna be the best performer on the whole entire planet!” you suddenly jumped up, acting out your idol persona as you faked holding a mic, striking your iconic pose you had perfected over time

(tenma just stared up at you, wondering why you shined so much in the light. he wanted to see you under stage lights, though. if you glowed this much now, you would be blinding in front of a crowd)

“and you’ll be with me!” you pointed your invisible mic at tenma as he smiled, not considering any other future as he pushed himself up with his own mic

“i’ll be on stage with you forever!” tenma guarenteed, performing your complex secret handshake as you two made explosion sounds at the end, pretending to fall back from the boom

“come on, let’s practice for when our first show comes!” you ended break time as you took your guitar back. tenma kicked back on the keyboard, not knowing a thing about it but wanting to try his best for you

as you two rocked on, tenma knew you two had were beyond any battle of the bands competition. you two were unstoppable, you two would sell out arenas and pose for the papparazzi together, you two would perform together!

or at least, that’s what tenma thought before one day, his parents came to pick him up

when his famous, high–standard, professional parents arrived to surprise him, they didn’t expect to search the building with a teacher who had no idea she was tutoring him. when they heard the loud singing, all they had to do was coldly glare at their son to make tenma quiet down and obediently follow them to the car

“sumeragi tenma, we raised you better than this. we’ve given you the perfect life, how could you lie to us?!” tenma’s mother cursed, grabbing his hair once they were out of sight of any witnesses. tenma flinched as his parents dragged him to the car, looking back to see you had ran to the entrance with wide eyes

“wait!” you insisted, catching up with his parents with a stubborn expression, holding onto tenma’s blazer sleeve and staring tenma’s father right in his strict face (tenma wished he was as brave and cool as you)

“get off, kid.” tenma’s father spat out, trying to shake you off as tenma kept his head down, attempting not to cry as he bunched his hands into fists. he pretended like this was just some scene, he had to keep his emotions in check behind a mask. he was raised to act like the best son

“no! tenma’s my friend!” you declared and tenma whipped his head up, staring at you with a sad smile as his father scoffed, prying your tight fingers off tenma’s school uniform as you stumbled back. when you hit the ground and sat up, tenma almost escaped his parents’ clutches as he called your name, being shoved into the backseat against his will

“tenma’s not friends with nobodies.” tenma’s father laughed maliciously, slamming the door closed as the family car swerved out of the parking lot

as you put your hand down from blocking the dust, you helplessly watched as tenma performed his end of the secret handshake as he faded into the distance. you stood back up, brushed down your uniform, and made your way back to the music room with tears in your eyes

you were going to be the best lead singer in the world, and tenma was going to sit front row for every show. tenma was gonna be your friend forever

(even if he mysteriously transferred schools the next day)

you began auditions to be involved in the entertainment industry as well

you wanted to be famous just like tenma, if you had become as popular and talented, maybe his parents would let you keep seeing him

entering middle school, you dedicated all your time to improving as an artist outside of your academic studies and transforming the abandoned elementary music room into your practice area

you practiced everyday until your throat was sore, you snuck into the local theatre stage and pretended like it was your concert, you tried to master every instrument that was available to you (though, you never forgot about your original guitar) just to become famous

it wasn’t until you gained your second fan, that your band took off

it was midway through middle school, after countless failed auditions for entertainment companies, that you turned and saw someone hiding in the same spot tenma claimed all those years ago. you blinked, but instead of an orange hue, you found a future bandmate who was just as enthusiastic about music as you

slowly but surely, your band became special to five students as their bond strengthened the core of your group: NATSU-mmer!

(the name flowed naturally since your group’s energetic, poppy, bright music became your image and was a happiness boost for anyone who listened)

although you guys weren’t experienced, your crazy energy and unbreakable friendship sold you to the public as your online covers and self–composed tracks became viral hits over time

you were on guitar and vocals with the support of more guitar, drums, keyboard, and tambourine! as you five practiced until the end of the day, your dedication and passion to music shined as you became famous as the lead singer of NATSU-mmer!

as years passed, you kept tabs on tenma every now and then. you would binge every show he was on, even if he had a minor background role, and couldn’t believe this was the same boy who sang proudly in the afternoon sun like it was a spotlight

tenma was older now, but he still had the same arrogant smirk he wore when he got competitive about beating other bands or who could shriek the highest note. he still had the same orange hair you noticed that one day from behind the window and he still acted like he was the best (maybe, because he was to you)

although you always answered his name when asked who your favorite actor was, you never told anyone your history with him. it felt almost too personal to say anything, when your friendship with him was still close to your heart and would always be associated with those practices after school

you respected his privacy and let him be, knowing damn well you wouldn’t have made it this far without his absence pushing you to be the best possible

(when asked about why you began singing and becoming the leader of your band, you never mentioned the truth: how you wanted to become famous to be tenma’s friend again)

although you two were both now in the entertainment industry, you never reached out to him again because it felt like acting and music was in two different worlds. as tenma dominated the billboards and popularity ratings in magazines, you strummed your guitar and sang with all your heart to your fanbase on stage

you forgot about the promise you had with tenma, until it was time

NATSU-mmer was having its first stadium show as an anniversary gift to the fans, selling out within minutes as you were processing the news. your bandmates screamed around you, jumping up and down as they loudly discussed how this was an once–in–a–lifetime opportunity

you smiled, but you had a distant look in your eyes. you were remembering tenma, even though he hadn’t crossed your mind in months, with the pressure and business of rehearsals and concerts and all that

it was nearing summer, you two were on break again after tenma’s voice cracked from a tune. you did your best not to laugh as you two sat on the desks, staring out at the sunset nearing in silence, just the sound of you two’s slightly heavy breathing from the work out

“do you think we’ll ever become big, ten?” you asked innocently, always talking about your dreams together as if tenma wasn’t a renowned actor already. tenma didn’t answer right away, resting his face against the window pane on his folded arms as he blew a strand of hair out of his face

“i don’t know, my parents want me to become a famous actor.” tenma sighed and you laughed, nudging him slightly with your elbow

“you’re already famous, ten! that’s why i call you ten, because you’re a 10/10 in every review!” you brought up again as tenma laughed with you, finding the whole situation funny for no reason

“yeah, but an even bigger actor. i’m gonna win best lead actor in every country.” tenma huffed, puffing his chest out like he was those big hotshot teen “heart–throb” actors while flexing his non–existent muscles

“and i’m gonna win every music award show trophy!” you added and tenma nodded, like he was so sure these were your fates. like nothing could change, like it was a matter of fact

“you will...” tenma trailed off, suddenly thinking about something. before you could ask, he fully turned his body towards you as he grinned, holding his pinky out

“but really, once you get that stadium, imma be front row and center!” tenma promised and you looped your finger around his, believing in him 100%

“no, you’ll be backstage! or better yet, on stage with me!” you fantasized as you two dreamily imagined it, shaking your pinkies before letting go with a secret promise you could never break

“we should spit shake.” tenma spat in his hand as you shrieked, ranting about how gross he was as he chased after you like every annoying little boy did. your laughter faded in your memory as you remembered the promise you and tenma made that day

“ten, it’s my first stadium show.” you whispered under your breath, not noticing the sunset outside the practice room

tenma sometimes wondered what would’ve happened if he ended up in a band with you. by no means was he idol material, but at night, he liked to lay down and stare at the ceiling, in the same position whenever he needed to cool down after practice

he had forgotten your name at this point, overwhelmed and exhausted from his acting career and lack of childhood that he had to skip over. from the scarce memories of his youth, all he could distinguish between the blurs was your face grinning happily at him as you jumped in the air with your guitar

(and something about how rough your hands were against his own)

all tenma knew was that he wanted to be on stage with you, and his younger self would’ve done anything to do so

tenma continued acting, forgetting all about his dream to be in a two–man band with you and kept his roles to the camera, skyrocketing into fame faster than anyone before him and staying in the limelight

in a way, both of you had accomplished your dream, just not together

tenma had joined mankai company, to the shock of every media outlet ever. the starlet had overcome his fear of making mistakes, he remembered clearly before he went onto the theatre stage for water me! the first time, a young voice echoed in his ears

“that’s what’s so exciting about the stage, ten. every time i go out there, i’m always gonna do my best! i’m gonna be the best performer on the whole entire planet!”

tenma remembered seeing your face clearly for the first time in a while, remembering every detail of your childhood self as he bunched his two hands into fists, staring at the spotlight upon the stage with the same determination he had when you two became friends

“i’m going to do my best.” tenma said and the rest was left on the stage until closing night

adjusting to mankai was a process. growing up with no true friends, both in school and in the entertainment industry, had surprisingly taken a toll on his behavior without him realizing it. to mankai, he wasn’t the famous star tenma, he was just the really not–put–together teen who wanted to take care of his bonsai in peace

so this is what having friends is like, tenma once thought as he glanced upon the entourage. it was the last time he truly remembered your friendship before he moved on, hoping one day he’d see you someday again

it wasn’t until he happened upon kazunari and misumi’s hanging out session that he was struck with memory of your name

the two were excitedly talking to one another, kazunari rapidly tapping on his phone screen and holding it up to misumi’s attentive face. tenma was about to walk away from the everyday meet–up before kazunari hyped up some group, letting a music video blast from his speaker

over the exaggerated “wow~ that’s a triangle!”, tenma stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a strong, enthusiastic voice belt out a familiar lyric. tenma jumped over to kazunari on the sofa, grabbing both his shoulders with desperation. misumi even paused the video to stare at tenma with shock

“who’s singing this?!” tenma rushed out as kazunari just grinned, finding nothing wrong with being trampled by his troupe leader

“ah! tenten~ are you interested, too?! it’s NATSU-mmer, i was thinking to ask them to sing our next play theme!” kazunari joked before misumi tugged him out of tenma’s grip. as the two went back to watching, tenma repeated the band name multiple times before running to his room and slamming the door

“what the hell do you—” yuki started, looking up from his sewing machine before tenma threw himself onto his bed, fumbling for his phone as he began typing something. tenma paused, zooming in on a group photo before dropping his phone

“THAT’S MY FRIEND!” tenma yelled, swiping through the photos as he finally recognized your name. it was you, the guitarist soloist back in elementary who was his first friend. you had done it, you actually became a full blown band leader who was rising in popularity. he was right in not questioning your dreams

yuki leaned his chair back to sneak a glance at the screen, furrowing his eyebrows as he stared at tenma with disbelief

saying your name, yuki scoffed as he crossed his arms, “the lead vocal of NATSU-mmer, one of the most popular bands in japan right now, is your friend? yeah, right.”

tenma furiously shook his head, sitting up and launching into the full story he didn’t even know he remembered about how you were his bandmate in elementary. yuki barely listened, but got the gist of the tale as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh

“you’re telling me... you grew up with NATSU-mmer’s powerhouse vocalist... and you didn’t even know?!”

tenma sheepishly kicked at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh

“maybe?”

(tenma yelped when yuki threw a pillow at his dumb face with perfect aim)

turns out, everyone in mankai had either known of NATSU-mmer or were huge fans, there was no in between. most of the high schoolers actively followed your band account across multiple platforms, gushing about your performances and how you were a fresh group that came from nothing

the university students knew an album or two, the adults mainly had an idea, and matsukawa even sang along to their songs this entire time! tenma was the last person to find out who your group even was (he was out of the loop all the time)

now that he knew, he was becoming aware of how prominent you had always been in his life. yuki took fashion inspiration from your stage outfits for the plays (they were as spectacular as he remembered imagining them), kazunari kept repeating your title tracks during breaks at practice to keep the mood up (tenma stopped telling him to turn it off), muku’s favorite anime he watched at night had an ost sang by you (tenma listened to it every night through the walls), misumi even pointed out the five people in your band formed a triangle when you all did a group photo (tenma guessed he was onto something, he noticed you were always at the center)

it was like you were still his friend, after all this time, still apart of his life despite the distance

because of this, tenma remained your biggest fan of all time. at first, he intended to follow your music casually, but after going down a rabbit hole of videos (such as interviews, streamed concerts/events, even fan–edited videos of your cute/funny moments or “meet NATSU-mmer” style of “crack edits”), tenma would consider himself a proud “sunflower”

(it was ironic that was your fanbase’s name, because he called you that after you got your first official guitar and you two painted sunflowers on the surface. in a way, he stayed in your life too, since you were both each other’s sunflower and sunshine)

tenma even made a stan twitter account for you! he made it with no intention to dm other sunflowers, but he turned on notifications for your band’s sns and replied to your posts with encouraging messages and reminders to take care of yourself

(he became known in the fandom as “ten”, the sunflower who was practically in love with you) (his icon was always you)

(tenma even bought merch with his own money. yes, he had a jersey with your birth year and last name, tenma admitted from his “early stan” days) (his home screen was a hq fansite picture of you holding a microphone towards the camera, as if you were still inviting him to sing along after all these years)

(he also somehow got roped into downloading your beat rhythm game, knowing you probably crushed all the levels as he struggled with beginner’s) (he got distracted by your voice singing in the background)

(one time, you had a live ig q&a and when you answered his question by saying his username “summerten”, he nearly fell over from excitement) (yuki had to kick him to shut tenma up with his internal freak–out)

tenma’s favorite thing to do as a stan was to watch your performances as if he was there. he had bought your group’s lightstick (a sunflower with spinning petals, how cute!), shaking it in front of his laptop screen and posting pictures with the “TT” sad emoticon

(summerten: TT just want to go to a concert so bad ~ 14 likes)

you were the same as you were before back in elementary. you still danced and sang with all the energy in the world, with uncontainable excitement to be doing what you love and your raw honest personality with your fans was admirable. you were open and the perfect idol since you were so passionate and uplifting with your self–produced/written music

you took the stage by storm, acting like it was your own and wildly playing your guitar like it was your last. you still had the same electric smile and sunny happiness, of course you had become famous for being in a band, you were born to be a star

present day, tenma was practicing his lines with the rest of the summer troupe before his phone buzzed in his pocket, making him automatically check it as summer snickered about his obsession with NATSU-mmer (only yuki really knew why as he refused to tell anybody else, just claiming it was teenage boy hormones)

tenma’s face paled and he looked like he was about to pass out. before anyone could ask, tenma sprinted out of the practice room with an urgent stride to his steps

everyone automatically followed him, yelling about how practice wasn’t over as tenma stumbled to his desk, opening his laptop with such determination it was admirable how one–minded he truly was

“why did you run like someone died?!” yuki whacked him over the head but tenma didn’t react, just logged into a ticketing website with intensity

“someone will die if i don’t get tickets to NATSU-mmer’s second anniversary stadium concert!” tenma insisted, memorizing what he was supposed to do as he sat down, biting his nails as he stared at his spot in the queue. oh god

understandably so, no one understood why tenma had to go to the concert so bad (“why doesn’t he just use his connections to get tickets?” “he really loves NATSU-mmer, huh...” “they do form a triangle!” “shut up”). yet, they resigned themselves to this predicament and let tenma end practice early, knowing pulling him away from his screen would make things way worse

sitting around him, the summer troupe kept light conversation as tenma tapped his foot against the floorboards, willing himself to stare straight ahead to react the fastest

i have to keep my promise, tenma thought as he impulsively bought five tickets without warning, all front row and didn’t wince at his bank balance

tenma promised he’d see you front row at your first stadium concert, and on god, he was going to keep it

when the troupe cheered and rambunctiously discussed tenma’s generousity to take them to the concert with him, yuki stood in the back with his arms crossed and eyes watching tenma carefully

“you hack... you still like them, don’t you?” yuki mumbled, not catching anyone’s attention. it didn’t take a genius to piece together the puzzle, he knew you were much more than just tenma’s first childhood friend, but he didn’t say anything else as tenma breathed a sigh of relief at the mercy of the ticket gods

(when tenma tweeted how he was going to the stadium show, his mutuals showered him in congratulations and your official account even liked it) (he keyboard–smashed like the fanboy he was)

while you were preparing for your opening stadium event for the first time in your professional career, tenma was planning the entire trip as best as he could

(yuki felt so bad for him and his very obvious crush that he made him a sunflower headband for the concert, it was so nice tenma almost went in for a hug before yuki smacked him)

the night of the stadium concert, you were sitting backstage dressed in your group’s common bright fun colors as you fiddled with your guitar, playing a tune you hadn’t remembered until recently. you thought of a little boy with orange hair and purple eyes as you stared off into the distance, just nonchalantly playing the song you two had wrote together back then

as you kept strumming, you imagined him sitting front row, cheering you on

(maybe, you shouldn’t have stalked his official sns accounts before going to sleep last night)

you knew it was last second. but for some reason, even if he never heard it, you had to honor your relationship with tenma

in a way, you would have never been here without his friendship, and you wanted to thank him even if he wouldn’t be there

it took a lot of convincing for your solo stage to be moved to last with no backing track whatsoever (your manager was suspicious of what you had up your sleeve, but you promised it wouldn’t hurt your group’s image), but you did it!

your group pestered you obnoxiously about the change, their sibling–esque bond with you as their “parent” making you laugh as you played it off like it was no big deal.

(as you opened a guitar case you hadn’t brought along in a long time, you smiled down at the worn sunflower–painted guitar)

this was your first stadium show and you could only dream of tenma being right beside you

summer troupe arrived at the stadium hours early, but there was already a long line with campers filling the streets (“why are people sleeping outside just to see some cute people?!” “stan culture, man...”)

tenma was excited in line, not even bothered by the length of the wait as he rambled about your group discography to the boys, subconsciously waving around his sign as he pushed up his sunglasses

(how no one recognized his bright orange hair was beyond anyone’s common sense)

when the group made it past security with a few mishaps (muku making himself look like he was highly suspicious by stuttering and kazunari having to come in to save the day with his social media presence) (misumi almost stripping down for no apparent reason) (yuki actually walked like a normal person with nothing to hide), tenma practically ran to his seat like he was a child again

“everyone say NATSU!” kazunari held his phone up for a group selfie, the five making a triangle as he posted it to his story, tagging it with the group hashtag and the location as always

your band member was scrolling through the hashtag with the group account, showing everyone fan pictures and providing over–the–top commentary, as you all sat in a circle waiting for the show to begin

“oh~ it’s that kazu guy! he usually posts stories with our songs!” your band member said, swiping to their most recent story and your eyes widened

was that a shock of orange hair?

you couldn’t have missed it. that had to be tenma, no other fan would just show up with sunglasses front row like he promised before

did he remember you? before you could react, everyone moved onto the next fan and complimented them endlessly, your mind still stuck on that orange hair

it couldn’t have been... but yet, you smiled

at least you could imagine singing to someone for your stage at the end

when the concert began with a strum of your guitar, tenma let out the most excited scream of all time as his voice was drowned out by the rest of the fans. summer troupe side–eyed him but ignored his frantic lightstick waving as they watched the five members of NATSU–mmer rise from the stage in their iconic poses (yours was the same from childhood)

“who’s ready to start this summer off right?!” you shouted into your mic, your voice vibrating the open stadium as the fans cheered in response. tenma was quiet this time, staring up at you with such admiration yuki had to shove him out of it (“don’t be so dumb right now, enjoy the show!” “shut up, i wasn’t staring!” “i didn’t say you were...”)

you guys opened with your debut song, going back to your humble beginnings in the elementary practice room as everyone danced the night away. everyone online was right; streams could never compare to the real thing. tenma didn’t care about being “cool” for once as he jumped up and down

(kazunari definitely got multiple videos of him singing every song word for word at the top of his lungs like his life depended on it) (there’s also a video of him crying to an emotional ballad song, just full sobbing as muku awkwardly patted his back while worriedly glancing at the camera)

(“it’s so sad...” tenma sniffled as yuki practically shoved his own hands into his mouth, trying not to laugh for once)

the event passed in a flash, your stamina crazy high as you didn’t even seem tired. you looked more alive than ever, especially when you began giving your final speech of the night as NATSU-mmer’s leader

“hi, sunflowers!” you giggled, the fans awww–ing in unison and tenma was staring at you like you were the sun. he was right, you were so bright under the spotlight, it was blinding

“thank you so much for coming to our first stadium show.” you bowed and tenma noticed your hand was shaking around the mic. he was worried, were you okay?

“actually, this is very special to me, not because it’s a stadium, but because you’re all here to share it with me~” you cutely said, laughing when everyone cooed. you kept going, all the attention on you as the background musicians began filing out backstage. murmurs filled the stadium, what was going on?

“but also... i made a promise back then, to my very first fan, band mate, and dear friend of mine, someone i’ll call sunshine for now.” you said and yuki’s head snapped to tenma, who was looking at you with a small smile

“he said he’d be front row when i had my stadium show, and...” you trailed off, turning to the summer’s troupe location as the group members excluding yuki and tenma excitedly talked amongst themselves (“oh my god, does NATSU-mmer recognize us?! let’s invite them to our opening night next month!”)

“he is.” you finished, smiling as the tears you kept in glistened under the light. tenma roughly wiped under his eyes, hoping no one noticed as he made eye contact with you for the first time in years

“this is for sunshine, the first song we ever wrote, called sunflower dreams.”

you stepped up and placed the mic on the stand decorated with vines and yellow petals, swinging your guitar around to the front as tenma recognized its sunflower pattern. he knew both your names was signed behind it

“hide all the feelings in your heart, someday the season will go on and change.” you sang, the whole stadium silent with the single spotlight on you. you stood center, like it was the elementary music room again

tenma held his breath, trying not to sing along to avoid the confused looks of his friends. he knew every word, even though it was unreleased. you two worked on the song so hard, it became the only song you two finished to completion

“as i looked at the sky, it was a faraway dream,” you opened your eyes and looked directly at him, like he was still the same shy kid who hid behind the wall just to hear you sing. for a moment, tenma went back to that time like it was just you two again

“we’ll reach that sky someday.” you smiled before you heard your own voice, remembering something about the promise: “no, you’ll be backstage! or better yet, on stage with me!”

without thinking, you quickly grabbed a microphone left on stage and turned it on, tossing it to tenma who didn’t drop it this time

sunmer troupe exchanged wild glances between each other as you went to their side of the stage, holding your hand out with a shaky smile

“you know the rest, right, ten?” you asked, afraid to move back before tenma nodded, not caring about hiding his identity as security let him through

although there were tens of thousands of people, tenma took your hand and felt like you two were back in school together, just practicing like always

(your hand was smoother, but you still had the same callouses from playing guitar)

you started strumming again and it didn’t take any effort before you two bounced off each other like before, singing sunflower dreams like it was just yesterday as fans made the connection sumeragi tenma was on stage

(“oh my god, tenten!!!” kazunari shrieked, recording despite his full phone storage. muku was sparkling, dreamily calling it a manga moment as misumi said something about you being one of tenma’s three happinesses. yuki just smiled, he knew it)

when you two ended the song with your (not so) secret handshake like no time has passed, you and tenma grinned as you two immediately hugged on stage

“ten, i knew you’d remember.” you whispered, and tenma just smiled even bigger as he ignored the crowd’s volume

“i knew you’d become a famous singer and win every single music award. you were born for the stage.” tenma said, and you were blinding under the spotlight

you two accomplished your dream for your childhood selves this time: performing on stage together

[coraldazewitch]

I have a true story from 2nd or 3rd grade.

So in 2nd or 3rd grade my classmates and I really hated this one student. He was the class bully and would yell at us and bully us every chance he got (which was when teach was out of the classroom) and one day our seating chart got changed. I got placed next the the bully kid (jadon/jason idk which was his name but it was one of the two) and my brilliant angry ass was tired of his shit after like two weeks after sitting with him. Aroubd a week later he was pulled out for an out of school appointment, teacher had to walk him to the front of the school (our class was at the back of the school) and I was like, “hey, wanna get back at jadon/jason?” to my seat mates; we were grouped in tables of 5. And my other three seat mates were like “heck yeah!” I was like “okay cool! When jadon/jason comes back into class next just act cool while I let loose my absolute anger onto him.” What I didn’t know my other classmates were listening in, one of them in excitement asked “What are you going to do?!” I said eagerly with an absolute shit eating grin, “payback for the absolute heck he’s given us. Also please don’t say anything to teach as this has to be a class secret. Also if anyone says anything to get me into trouble after Jadon/Jason has gotten into trouble, I’m absolutely okay with taking the blame.” Teacher comes back like 30 seconds later with no Jadon/Jason. An hour or so goes by when Jadon/Jason was brought back to class. At that time my plan has been formulated. This is the biggest thing to remember for this story (you’ll need to know for later) Teacher left the window to the courtyard to out class open.

So when Jadon/Jason got back and the teacher had to leave to make copies on the other side of the school… I put my plan into action. I started off by telling Jadon/Jason “shut the hell up, no one fucking cares.” He turned to me super angry (he was telling his story about his appointment) and he came back with, “what’s your problem ugly little bitch girl.” Me, “you’re my fucking problem you ugly duck fucking face!” And he proceeded to get up and shove me out of my seat. I got up, grabbed his chair and literally hulked threw it out the courtyard window. What I didn’t take for in account was the angle of the window. It ended up clipping the edge of the window and breaking it.

I quickly sat back down in my chair and did my classwork as if nothing happened. Jadon/Jason looked at me. Then the window and looked out again. Next thing I knew he was trying to climb out the window to get his chair. Right when he got out the window the teacher came back. And saw that the window was damaged, Jadon/Jason was outside and the chair also damaged. Teacher asked the class what had happened. One student said, “Jadon/Jason was upset about something with his appointment; went and threw his chair out the window.”

Teacher went dead silent looked around the class with students nodding their heads and agreeing with that student. Teacher then proceeded to his desk called the office, the principal came down got Jadon/Jason and took him to her office, all the while Jadon/Jason was screaming that it wasn’t him and he was set up. No adult belived him as he was a known angry troublemaking child. Came to find out he he was suspended for a month, had to serve in ISS for another month and go to anger management counseling in the school AND his parents payed for the damages for the window and chair. My classmates never told a soul it was me who damaged the window and threw the chair out the window besides one girl who was out of class sick because they wanted her to know.

Also we had no cameras in the school until about 4 or 5 months later when someone took a literal shit on Jadon/Jasons desk because he was back at being an asshole again.

Moral of the story don’t be an absolute asshole or bully unless you absolutely want someone to come for your ass and get revenge.

[insomniac-arrest]

When my heart felt volcanic

Have you ever noticed that there’s this trend in book titles that go “The X’s Daughter”? Things like The Clockmaker’s Daughter, The Emperor’s Daughter, The Scavenger’s Daughter, The Madman’s Daughter, so on.

It’s never called “The Clockmaker” and about just the daughter. It’s always her dad that teaches her how to beat up guys in masks or fire a pistol or fly a fighter jet. Sometimes she even has 7 or so brothers who bully her into being tough and stoic, a boys-girl. You know, like a tomboy but hot and you also never have to deal with any feminine interests she might have. It’s always the daughter.

Well I was the daughter of a narcoleptic. It didn’t make me any more likely to wear short-shorts and kick bad-guys in the chest like if I was in a movie. It also didn’t make me any more knowledgeable about sleep besides the obvious bit about human bodies being mysterious and full of vindictive whimsy.

Mostly, it just made me angry.

For as long as I could remember my dad would be reading me a bedtime story, maybe about Mr. Toad and friends or Harry Potter or the Hobbit. I don’t think we ever made it through a single chapter.

His eyes would flutter shut, sometimes there would be some buildup, like tides slowly easing onto the beach, or sometimes it would be like a light being blown out. And he was gone.

We would be eating breakfast and he would slump down in his chair. We would be watching a movie and he would never know the ending. My mom and him would be at my softball game and I would look back over to the bleachers to see my dad fast asleep with a foam finger on his hand. My mom told me to have some compassion, it was a condition.

But all I knew was that other girls didn’t have to kick their fathers to stay awake at their back to school nights.

Of course, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Some people have it a lot worse: drowsy all the time, barely able to hold down a job, chronically nodding off in a space between dreams and reality. My dad only sometimes was lost to us.

The condition wasn’t that bad he said and he was a doctor after all- the serious type. The type for heart disease and lots of charts on the walls and the reason my mom didn’t have to work either.

My aunt once tipsily told me my dad developed it in college. He worked a job and went to medical classes all at once and he messed with his sleep schedule so much he never really recovered. I suppose that softened my heart a little bit, but then I saw him asleep at my 14th birthday and the irritation seized me all over again.

It was 14 and growing in all the wrong directions- a puzzle with the pieces being jammed in their wrong spots. I was yelling that day.

The car was cramped and smelled of hand sanitizer and yogurt I spilled on the front seat months ago. The air felt yellow with spring heat and a dusty country road in front of us. I threw my hands in the air emphatically.

“I need them.” Most of my family’s serious discussions were had in the car going from place to place. “It’s important.”

My father got that “thinking” look on his face where his features paused and his soft chin dimpled. “You’re young.” He said with dust in his words, “I think it’s a little early to think about drugs.”

I rolled my eyes, “Mom says they’re safe.” I sniffed loudly, “And I bet it would make my grades better.”

My dad glanced at me through his wire-frame glasses, “Grades aren’t everything, bumblebee.”

I rolled my eyes, “You always say that, but do you mean it?”

“I’m a doctor,” he said with a heavy sigh, “I know about the human body. Teenagers sleep schedules can be naturally irregular. It doesn’t help with the school making you get up at god awful hours.” He complained.

My dad was against most systems in a moral sense. He didn’t like school systems or government systems or even the health care system. But he was also neatly soft-spoken and orderly and a contradiction all by himself.

I crossed my arms over my chest, “It’s not normal.” I hissed because I had sleep problems too and my heart felt volcanic for it. Burning. Exploding. I never asked for this. “I just want to go to fucking sleep for once instead of staring at the ceiling for hours.”

“Language,” He said in the same dusty way and I shook my head.

“Listen to me!” I pulled out the stops as I jerked upright in the chair and gestured fiercely. A tree passed and the rolling fields in all directions gave a certain feeling of yawning loneliness around us. “It’s not your decision. It’s mine. I want to try the pills!”

My father just continued to frown. “What about a more regular schedule?”

“That’s always your solution.” I grumbled, “I don’t see yours helping you at all.”

My father wilted slightly, “Brooklyn…” He said my name as a warning.

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved a hand through the air. “But I don’t want however it is you live your life. It’s like you’re not even trying to not have it.” Maybe I knew it was cruel at the time. I’m not sure if I meant to be cruel. Maybe I wanted to be, needed it, but it happened all the same.

I had barbs at that age.

My father grew quiet as he usually did when he was hurt and we drove in silence to my doctors appointment one city over. It must have been ten or fifteen minutes when I saw the car start to veer to the side of the road.

“Dad…” I said softly as the car gently crossed the center of the road. I twisted toward him and my eyes flew wide open as his chin was nestled on his chest. “Dad!”

His eyes were closed and the car precariously descended toward a ditch. “Wake up!” I shook him violently but not before the nose of the car aimed into the ditch and sent shock waves up my arms.

“Ah,” I yelped as the seat belt tore across my chest and I bounced back against the seat.

My dad jerked the wheel to the side, but it was too late as the car rumbled down into a sudden stop against the ground. We jerked with a painful lurch and I held onto the seat belt with both hands.

We took deep gasping breaths for a long second as the hood of the car was crumpled and I wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke leaking from it soon.

My father threaded a hand through his thin hair. “Are you okay?” He turned to me and his voice shook. “Are you okay?”

I nodded again and again. “I’m fine, it’s fine.” He looked off into space and seemed to be seeing something I couldn’t.

That was the first time in my whole life I saw my father cry. He nudged at his watery eyes with his hands and I watched as tears fell like meteorites down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He croaked and he put his head and hands on the wheel with limp wrists, “I never thought it would come to this.” More tears made tracks across his face.

I didn’t know what to say, so I reached over and patted his shoulder weakly as he gathered himself up again. I had never seen my father cry before. I wasn’t sure he could.

That was the year my dad gave up driving. And I started a few trials for sleep problems.

And I forgive them now. I forgive people who walk too slowly on the sidewalk and cashiers that count my money out wrong and people who tell me the same joke three or four times. I forgive people for being late to meetings and others for canceling plans. There’s nothing else to do.

I am The Narcoleptic’s Daughter.

[cordria]

Flowers

Danny skulked into his house through the back door with the intent of avoiding his parents. He’d had an extremely wonderful day thus far - no homework, no ghosts, a decent grade on his math test, and even a compliment from his science teacher on the project they were working on - and he had zero desire to run into someone who could ruin his winning streak with a reminder about chores. 

It was for nothing, as his mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Danny’s shoulders drooped. 

“Hi Sweetie,” she said. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Danny muttered, toeing off his shoes and dropping his bag near the door. “I’m going to-” he stopped, realizing there was someone else at the table with his mother. He blinked at the strange woman. “Hello.”

The woman had a kind smile with large dimples, an oversized nose, and a large black curly hairstyle. She also looked vaguely familiar. “Hello.”

“Danny, this is Katie. She and I were good friends in college.”

It clicked in Danny’s mind. The woman was in a lot of his mother’s pictures from college. “Hi,” he repeated. Taking advantage of the fact that his mother was chatting up an old friend (although ‘friend from college’ made the little hairs on his neck stand on it - that phrase never seemed to bode well), Danny edged around the table with the idea of vanishing up to his room.

“She’s a botanist,” his mother continued, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Danny wanted to not be here. “Katie was just passing through after picking up some specimens, but she’s agreed to stay for a while and help me with an experiment I have going. She had a unique idea for it.”

“Sounds fun,” Danny said. He was nearly out of the kitchen.

“She’ll be staying in Jazz’s room.”

Danny hesitated. Having another scientist actually in their house meant he’d have to be careful to toe the line for a few days. “Okay…”

“Can you clean Jazz’s room a little before you relax?” His mother sent him a smile. “Make sure there’s nothing lying around?”

“Oh, Maddie,” the woman said, waving her hand, “I can do a bit of cleaning. I just appreciate the offer! Let the young man go do his thing after a long day.”

Danny was about to nod and agree with that sentiment, when he remembered Jazz sucked at hiding things. Like notebooks and photo albums full of secret-breaking information. “Ah… I can clean. Jazz is a neat freak anyways, it’ll only take a minute.” 

“That’s sweet of you.” Katie sent him a huge smile. “Thank you.”

“New sheets and things too, please,” his mother added. “I know Jazz keeps her room clean, but it’s been almost a month since someone was in there. They’ll smell dusty.”

Danny waved his hand and took the chance to escape the kitchen. He trotted up the stairs, sending a quick text to Tucker that he’d be late logging into their game.

Jazz’s door was the second on the left, and the door was already open, a suitcase sitting on the bed and a coat draped on the desk chair. Danny felt something odd at seeing these strange things in his sister’s room, but he shrugged it off and glanced around. He knew about the notebook and the photo album. Now where did she hide them?

Poking around at the books on the bookshelf, Danny noticed what looked like a glass suitcase sitting on the ground. Pausing in his search for the notebook, he knelt down and studied what was inside. The glass was tinted, like sunglass lenses, and the objects inside were blurred and hard to see. They looked something like plants. Which made sense, since the woman was a botanist. Kinda weird, though, keeping them in such an odd container.

Danny left the plants to continue searching for anything secret-revealing, spending nearly fifteen minutes and not finding anything. “Perhaps she’s better at hiding things than I thought,” he muttered, slinking to the hall closet and getting a new set of sheets. “Or maybe she brought them to college.” It took only a few minutes to get the new sheets on the bed, new covers on the pillows, and to dump Jazz’s in the laundry. He lingered a few more minutes, eyes drifting over the room, trying to think of anywhere else things could have been hidden.

Feeling confident his secret wouldn’t be revealed, Danny headed towards his room. Tucker was waiting.

“Danny!”

He stopped, one foot in his room, and let his head fall back. He debated pretending not to hear his mother’s call. Twenty more seconds and his noise-cancelling headphones would have been on and he’d be surrounded by the sounds of an alien world. But his conscience tugged at him. “What?” he yelled.

“Need your help for a moment!”

He groaned, twisted on his heel, and slumped down the steps. Making sure every hint of his body screamed ‘I don’t want to be here’, Danny slunk back into the kitchen. “What?” he asked.

The kitchen table was now covered in paper. Graphs and charts and pages full of numbers were everywhere. His mother looked up with a grin, seemingly oblivious to his posture. “Katie has a terrarium up in Jazz’s room. Can you grab it please? And then, down in the lab, we’ll need some equipment. The portable lab kit will do, I think.”

Really? Danny thought as he headed back upstairs. Couldn’t do this yourself? 

But after those couple annoyed thoughts, he did start to wonder what was in the terrarium that they’d need the porta-lab. Slipping back into Jazz’s room, he knelt down next to the terrarium and studied it a little closer. 

There were five plants inside. They weren’t potted like a normal plant - their roots were dangling in the air, and the plants were suspended in the middle of the terrarium by glass rods. Two looked something like orchids, one looked like some sort of vine, and the other two looked like tiny trees. They looked like very normal plants, other than the lack of soil. 

He shrugged and grabbed the terrarium, hauling it downstairs. “Here,” he said, setting it on top of the mess of papers. 

“Thank you!” Katie chimed, reaching forwards and pulling it closer. 

In a hurry to get back to Tucker and his game, Danny took the stairs to the basement two at a time. The portal was humming calmly. He headed straight to the self where the porta-lab was kept, snagged it, and headed back up the stairs. It joined the terrarium on the table.

The glass door was open and Katie and his mother were peering inside. Despite the desire to run upstairs and get into his afternoon fun, Danny lingered, curious.

His mother dug through the lab supplies, pulled out a huge pair of gloves, and handed them over to Katie. “Perfect,” the woman whispered, reaching into the terrarium with gloved hands, and slowly releasing one of the plants from the glass rods holding it in place, and pulling it out of the terrarium.

Danny felt himself tensing, waiting for something bad to happen. Maybe it was a ghost flower, like those blood blossoms. There had to be a reason for the lab supplies and the strange, tinted glass. It’d be just his sort of luck, too, after such a good day.

But it was a normal plant. Six long green leaves. Limp white roots dangling from Katie’s gloved fingers. A small but pretty white flower hanging from a stem.

Danny was almost disappointed. “What is it?” he asked.

“Dendrobium pacificum florid,” Katie said with a smile. “A rare and quite expensive orchid.”

“It’s just a plant,” Danny said.

Katie glanced at him. “What were you expecting?”

Danny sent his mother a confused glance. “You’re doing a project… on a normal plant? No ghost… anything?”

Katie laughed. “Ghosts? Are you still on that, Maddie? Jack and Vlad too, I suppose.” 

Maddie’s smile twisted into a small frown. “There’s potential-”

“Yes, yes,” Katie interrupted. “I heard all about it many times in college. God, it’s hard to believe you three never gave that pet theory up.”

Danny could see his mother’s hackles rise. “It’s not really a pet theory anymore, if you’d follow the news.”

“Of course, dear,” Katie said, her smile indulgent. Then she turned to Danny, ignoring the look on Maddie’s face. “And we’re not doing an experiment on the plant. We’re doing an experiment on it’s genetics.”

Still with a frown on her face, Maddie nodded. “Vlad sent-”

Every muscle in Danny’s body tensed.

“-along some rather interesting data he said he’d collected and Katie’s an expert in biogenetic engineering, especially when it comes to plants. We’re hoping to see if we can recreate some of… this,” she waved her hands at the messy stack of papers, “in a plant.”

“Uh-huh,” Danny said, trying not to sound too interested. But with Vlad involved, he needed to know what this experiment was about. “What are you trying to get the plants to do? Grow fangs and attack Da... uh… someone?”

Katie laughed. “No. We’re trying to translate a unique bioluminescent trait into the plant. Like what a firefly uses to glow.”

“A… glowing plant?” Danny asked.

His mother sent him a tight smile. “Yes.”

Danny looked down at the porta-lab, at the ghost equipment and the beakers that still had traces of glowing ectoplasm clinging to them and the sensors, and put two and two together in his mind. “Will this glowing plant be able to… float?”

Katie leaned forwards. “Floating is impossible, but the bioluminescent trait caused some sort of odd gravitropism. It was the interesting part of Vlad’s research, one of the reasons I agreed to this.”

Danny blinked, glancing at his mother in hopes of a translation. 

Maddie’s smile was sharp. “It’s a bioluminescent plant with odd gravitropism, Danny. Not a glowing plant that floats, of course. Ghosts are a… silly pet theory.” 

“Ah,” Danny said.

“I’m more interested in studying the gravitropism to be honest,” Katie said, turning the plant around and around in her hands. “Bioluminescence has been done before, of course. This plant has just the right sort of genetics for what I’m seeing in this data. Fortunately it’s flowering. Unfortunately, it’s such a slow grower it’ll be years before the pollen and ovules we’re modifying will be large enough plants for good study.” 

“Think about it,” Maddie said, leaning forwards and poking a finger at the papers, “a way to create organisms, living beings, with… bioluminescent and odd gravitropism.”

Danny didn’t particularly want to think about it. He didn’t want his mother figuring out how to create plants that could glow and float. A half-ghost plant. He felt the hair raise on his neck at the idea of his mother realizing that a half-living, half-ghost creature was possible. 

Surely Vlad didn’t want her to either. What was the man thinking?

“I’m going to… go,” Danny said. “You guys play with your plants.”

He ducked out of the kitchen, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he headed up the stairs. He went through his blocked number list, found the one he wanted, and hit ‘call’. “Hi, Vlad,” Danny said when the phone picked up.

“I’m busy, Little Badger.”

“What’s with the data my mom’s looking through?”

Vlad scoffed. “Merely theoretical information. I’m hoping she can help me solve an instability issue I’m working through.”

“Theoretical, huh?” Danny slumped into his room and shut the door. “You’re not planning on her using any of that information?”

“Maddie doesn’t have the skill, interest, or technology to actually do anything with the data I sent her. It’s not even the complete set of data. I’m just using her analytical skills to find a mistake. It’s harmless, Daniel.”

“You remember Katie, from college?”

“No.” A pause, then, “The flower girl? Black hair, big nose?”

“You mean the botanical biogenetic engineer? Yes, that one. She’s sitting at my kitchen table, looking through your ‘merely theoretical information’ and planning an experiment with my mom.”

There wasn’t a response to that.

“Hello?” Danny said after a long thirty seconds of silence. He pulled the phone away from his face, realizing he’d been disconnected. He couldn’t help but smile. “Well. That was rude.”

When the doorbell rang just a few minutes later, Danny glanced out the window to see Vlad’s limo double-parked outside. Setting his headphones over his ears, he finally logged into his game. It’d certainly be interesting to watch Vlad try to talk the information back out of his mother’s hands, but Danny was ready to tune out the world and play his game.