#i should not be eating unhealthy foods but fuck i’m so tired of chicken

[unawakening-float07]

all done

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing x.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 8, 711

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL

anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)

and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:

let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3

all the love and I hope you're having a great

day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️

“Open up!”

The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.

You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.

“I can hear you!” You call.

“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.

You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.

And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.

You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.

“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.

You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”

She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.

Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.

“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”

You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”

She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.

“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.

When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match���you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.

“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.

She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.

“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”

You snort. “And the food?”

“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.

You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”

Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”

You scowl.

“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.

Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.

Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.

“Why would he do that?” You cry.

“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”

You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.

“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.

“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”

You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.

“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.

For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.

But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.

Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.

“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.

“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.

You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.

“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”

You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.

“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.

You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.

“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”

You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.

“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don’t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”

You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.

“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”

You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.

You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.

So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.

“I think I like Jungkook.”

Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.

“I figured as much.”

Your eyes widened, “How—?”

It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.”

You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.

“And we kissed.”

At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”

You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.

“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”

You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.

Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.

She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”

Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.

“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.

“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”

You sigh, nodding your head.

“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.

“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.

Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.

“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.

Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.

“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.

You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.

“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”

Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.

“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”

“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.

She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”

You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.

“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”

It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.

That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.

It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.

“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”

Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.

Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.

You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.

But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.

It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.

You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.

“____?” He asks confusedly.

You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”

He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”

Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.

And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.

“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.

When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.

“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”

You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt.

“_____ why are you—”

“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.

“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.

You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.

Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.

“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.

“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”

Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.

“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.

Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”

Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.

“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.

You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”

“I know you have feelings for him.”

Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,

The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.

He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”

“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.

“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”

You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.

“I’m—”

“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”

You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“How did you …” You trail off.

“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”

You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.

Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”

The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.

“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”

Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.

“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”

You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.

Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh.

“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”

You furrow your brows, “Why?”

“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”

You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.

“I am not—!”

He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.

You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.

“We kissed.” You blurt.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”

You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.

“He was my first kiss.”

At this, Namjoon’s widen.

“When you were in high school?” He pries.

You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.

“Two months ago.” You mutter.

Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”

“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.

You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.

“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.

Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”

“I’m a virgin.”

Namjoon blinks.

“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”

“Oh.”

“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.

Namjoon only stares at you.

“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”

“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.

“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.

“Okay …?”

“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”

You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.

“You’re not—”

You groan.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”

You duck your head.

“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”

Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.

“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”

It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.

“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.

“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.

He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”

Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”

Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”

He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.

“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”

You shake your head.

“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.

“Then let me offer you another perspective.”

You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.

“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But

“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”

“You don’t have to—”

“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”

You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.

“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”

You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.

“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”

“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”

You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”

You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.

“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”

“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.

You fiddle with your thumbs.

“What do you want?”

Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.

Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.

It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.

You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.

But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.

She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.

You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.

So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.

You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth

You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.

“Want some?”

You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.

“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.

Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.

“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”

You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”

She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.

“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.

The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.

“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.

“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”

You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.

“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.

The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.

“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”

Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”

You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.

“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.

“I introduced it to him.” You inform.

She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.

“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”

You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”

Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she���s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.

“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”

You frown, “I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.

“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”

“Excuse me?” You scowl.

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”

And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.

“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”

The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.

“I …” She chokes.

You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.

But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.

“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.

“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.

You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Excuse me—?”

“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.

You scowl, “Look I don’t—”

“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?

“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”

“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.

She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”

She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.

“Yes.” You snap childishly.

Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.

“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.

“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.

“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”

Your eyes widen, “What—?”

“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”

You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.

“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”

“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.

“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.

“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”

She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”

You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.

“You’re his type.” You say softly.

Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you believe that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”

For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.

“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”

You flush, “No. I’m not.”

She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”

You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.

“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.

But for some reason you need to deny it, again.

“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.

“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”

You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.

Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.

“Do you want to know something?” She asks.

You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.

“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”

Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.

“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”

“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.

“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.

You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.

“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.

“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”

Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”

Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.

“I know.”

She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”

You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”

You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”

“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”

“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.

“Oh.” You mumble.

She nods, squeezing your hand.

“I think he misses you.”

You purse your lips.

You missed him, too.

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

here’s the final part for my mother’s day special :) I hope you all had a good day and enjoyed this. 

Mother’s Day pt. 3          

 “So how is it?”

           Damian lifted his head, after taking another bite of his burger, chewing before answering his sister with a curt nod. The burger was delicious, greasy, and unimaginably unhealthy; their mother would slit their throats if she saw what they were eating. Outstretched before them was a spread of milkshakes, fries, chicken tenders and each their own oversized burger. Damian had never been to Bat-Burger, and was hesitant but his sister insisted it was good and she, Dick and Tim found the whole gimmick ironic and hilarious; they often frequented the food chain ordering each meal named after themselves.

           “The milkshakes are surprisingly the best around.” She continued, sipping the milkshake named after herself, trying to find something to get him to talk to her. Ever since they left her office he maybe only spoke a handful of words, agreeing to go get food, ordering his food and muttering a thanks when she paid.

           “Even the Night-wings are really good, it gets to Dick’s ego.” She pressed, chuckling. Frowning for a split second, she quickly covered it with a smile. But Damian caught it though, and took another bite of his burger to hide his guilt as she continued to talk. “So what’s new with you?”

           “Nothing.” He shrugged. It was the truth, he didn’t do much besides patrol and she knew that. He didn’t have hobbies besides reading and training. Damian wasn’t in school; he was ‘home schooled’ after trying for a year and it just not working. Bruce thought getting Jason through Gotham Academy was rough but according to Damian he was above prep school.

           He stopped eating his burger when he felt a sudden shift in his sister. Even she was thrown off by it. Maybe it was from lack of sleep or the hunger from not eating since dinner last night, if you could consider a bag of chips dinner. Maybe Bat-Burger wasn’t the best choice to start with. But she thought-, she hoped this place would let Damian loosen up. Even Bruce managed to crack a small smile when entering this place. Shaking her head she pushed her burger away from her, placing her head in her hands, frustrated. Damian slowly put his food down as well, letting his hands fall to his sides, anxiously clenching them into fists. She was gonna give up on him, he knew it. Coming here was a mistake.

           “Sister-,”

           “Halley.” She corrected, looking up from her hands. “My name is Halley. Yes I am your sister, but you don’t have to be so formal about it all the time.” She snapped, instantly regretting it. She promised to herself long ago to never lose her cool with Damian, but he was just so frustrating. “Why did you come to my office today Damian? It crossed my mind that you might’ve been jealous earlier about me making plans with Tim and not inviting you but whenever I do invite you places you just scoff at me. And I just didn’t see you being the jealous type, but then again I don’t really know you. Then you showed up today and I thought you actually wanted to, I don’t know? Do something together? But I feel like I’m the only one wanting to be here.”

           “Tt.” Damian crossed his arms, huffing. “I am not jealous of Drake.”

           “Tt.” Halley matched his stance, crossing her arms against her own chest and leaned back into her seat. “Okay if you’re not jealous of him, then why are we here?”

           Damian was speechless for a moment. Normally, this conversation would play out differently. Normally, after insulting Tim, Halley would then shoot into reasons why Damian should give Tim a chance, and that he was actually really nice. She’d never call him out like that, always not wanting to push him away or giving him a chance to get angry at the conversation and leave. It took Damian a few seconds longer than he’d like to admit to think of a retort.

           “I figured since you have these outings with everyone and they praise them, I should finally figure out what all the fuss is about. And so far I’m not impressed.” He snapped right back, showing the same sass that ran on their shared side of the family.

           Raising her own eyebrow, Halley snorted, reaching for her shake and taking a long sip before putting it back down and pointing a finger at her little brother. “Of course you’re not impressed. When me and the guys hang out we actually have conversations. Dick’s my best friend, we actually want to know what’s going on in each other’s lives; we shoot the shit, whatever you wanna call it. And Tim, Tim tries; he’s always reaching out and making sure I’m not overworking and taking care of myself and I do the same for him. We care about each other.” Halley took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose.

           “With you,” she continues trying to soften her voice, not realizing she sounded as if she was in work mode and could see Damian trying to hide his nervousness. “With you, it’s like I’m talking to a wall, a very thick wall. I’ve tried since day one Damian; I’ve tried to build a relationship with you but I don’t know what else to do. I’ve stuck up for you when everyone else didn’t and I’ve vouched for you. I was there when Bruce went missing, and I believed you with all that Talon nonsense, and I just get nothing in return besides insults. I don’t want much, I’m your sister and I’m just tired of trying if you really don’t care.”

           Damian bit his lip, unpacking every word that his sister spoke. He knew her frustrations. His father and Grayson had the same, as he was constantly reminding himself of. He just wasn’t sure how to open up to her. He wasn’t even sure how she opened up when she moved into the manor. He wanted to ask her but he was just so afraid to open his mouth and talk to her for unknown reasons.  He looked at her sad eyes as she spoke, feeling guilt from the years blocking her out finally being too much to keep in. Damian didn’t know how he would start but he licked his lips, finally figuring it was now or never to start trying back.

           “How did you adjust so well? It’s been two years and I-,” Damian paused already embarrassed for oversharing.

           Halley softened her stance. That was the most serious but personal question Damian had ever asked her. She smiled before opening her mouth to answer him. “I had people who cared. Like you do, even if you don’t see it.”

           She’s been thirteen, Damian’s age now when Dick saved her from her father. It wasn’t until Damian came along and she had to face her father again for the first time in years did Slade reveal that she was also part al Ghul. She learned what would’ve been her life if it wasn’t for Dick. At the time Slade had been part of the League of Assassins, and was one of Ra’s al Ghul right hands. The plan at the time was for Slade and Talia to give him a new heir, with the pair bringing Halley into the world. When she could walk and talk it was agreed that Slade would take her into the world to train; at the time thinking that field training would be the most officiant. When Slade thought she was ready, she’d be brought back to the League, but that was ruined when she escaped and joined the batfamily. She was his ticket in taking over the League, and he hadn’t taken her ruining it for him easily.

           “Dick took me in after saving me from Slade. He’d beat the shit out of me if I just sneezed wrong. He was an abusive fuck, but I was used to it. He drilled into my brain that I wasn’t good enough and I deserved the things he did to me. They would make me stronger. He made me just like you, untrusting and closed off. But Dick and the Titans eventually taught me that not everyone is an asshole. And when Bruce let me move to the manor and take his last name and gave me a home and a good life, I was-, well I just put my trust into them and I’m glad I did.” Halley shrugged, images of her time with Slade flashing through her eyes like a bad movie. Clearing her throat again, blinking away the tears that were forming, she looked back at the boy looking up at her with a soft expression.

           “And Jay, helped me a lot. He helped me adjust to things. He- he was great.” She looked down at her food, letting a finger brush a stray tear away. Cursing, for showing weakness in front of her little brother who already judged her every move, she coughed, straitening herself out.

           “I don’t want you to be like Dick or Tim, or Jason.” She continued, knowing he’d have nothing to say from where she left off. “I just want you to be Damian and I want us to have a relationship that makes you comfortable and makes you feel safe. So if going to stupid burger joints isn’t your thing, that’s fine. We can go to a fine dining restaurant if you want for all I care. And you don’t have to feel like you have to get me mothers day’s presents, that’s not your thing. I totally understand and don’t expect it to be.” She waved off, moving back to bite into her burger, trying to defuse the tension some more.

           Damian still kept his straight face. He knew the basics about his sister but not all details. He knew she was Slade’s apprentice, but he just figured she was a traitor and chose to leave. Her joining his father was what made Slade lose his good graces with his grandfather. It was the whole reason why Slade attacked the League of Assassin’s base years later, killing Ra’s al Ghul and leading Damian to meeting his father. He gulped, letting his face fall a little, in comfort.

           “I don’t mind this place.” He nodded, going back to bite into his burger as well, while also grabbing another Night-wing, wishing the chicken tender was called something else. “And-and, I wouldn’t even know what to get you or what kind of card to make. Though I did tell Drake your favorite color was purple. Tt, imbecile was going to make the letters red.”

           “You remembered my favorite color?” Halley awed at him, causing him to pout, embarrassed. “You just remembering my favorite color makes me happy enough.”

           “That’s silly,” He squinted at her. Grayson turned her into such a sap.

           “Yeah, well I think it’s cute.” She huffed, moving back to her milkshake. She looked up at him as she sipped, “So after this, what does Damian Wayne want to do today? I assume movies and arcade are boring to you.”

           “You assume correct.” He nodded in agreement. He took a second to ponder her question, not quite ready to go home after this. He didn’t really know at first, until one specific place popped up in his head. He’d yet to visit one, but had read about them and was curious, you could say. He was too afraid to ask his father and not ready for Grayson’s reaction; there was no one better than Halley to ask to take him. With a stern face he looked up at her, “I would like to go to the zoo.”

           “The zoo?” Halley questioned. She mentally slapped herself when she saw him begin to crawl into himself again, she outreached a hand to him, “No, no, no! I just didn’t think you’d want to. I love the zoo; I used to beg Jay to go with me all the time, but he thought they were boring and smelly,” She chuckled fondly at the memory. “But the Gotham Zoo is surprisingly nice.” She said looking down at her phone for the time. “We have time if we finish this on our way there, they don’t close for another four hours or so.” Halley said, now excitedly packing up the trash and figuring out what was good enough to eat during the walk over to the zoo.

           Damian felt that same pang in his chest from earlier but this time it didn’t make him nervous. Instead he felt content, happy even? He didn’t feel as if this whole idea was a disaster and for once actually felt a touch of excitement. Gathering his belongings he then proceeded to ask questions about what kind of animals they have at a zoo, and other things, like can you pet them, etc. Halley eagerly answered all of them, asking her own like what his favorite animal was and stuff like that.

           The rest of the afternoon went by way to quick and soon Halley was in a cab making sure Damian got home okay, even with him reassuring her if he could get to her office without her he could get home. She simply waved him off, and gave him a playful shove as the cab pulled up to the manor. Her smile almost hurt when he turned to her as he stood out of the cab and said that he hoped they could do this again sometime.

           Within the next hour, she found herself stomping up her apartment, not in anger but in pure delight. She couldn’t believe today actually happened. After two years she actually made progress with Damian. Opening the door to her apartment, she dropped her bag and plopped the keys onto the kitchen counter, she could have even sworn she saw him smile at least one today.

           She walked into her kitchen, grabbing a water bottle, closing the fridge and looking at the pictures she had hanging on her fridge. Taking a second she leaned against the counter, taking them all in. This year’s mother’s day card from Tim hung near a picture of the two of them from his second birthday at the Manor, it’s been his sixteenth. She’d taken him to an arcade and the pair had spent all day building up their tickets so Tim could get some replica sword. She smirked at the picture where instead of the sword, he decided on getting her a giant stuff pug as a thank you for spending all day with him. In it she held onto it tightly, the thing was so fluffy and cute as Tim smiled into the camera widely. She still had the thing on her bed, she chuckled.

           Next to that one was a picture of her and Dick, from her own sixteenth birthday where he insisted on throwing her a giant pool party, inviting all of the Titans and batfamily. He stood hosting her up on his shoulders, as if she was a prize. It was only moments after the phot was taken did he throw her into the pool, only for her to furiously chase him for revenge. Alfred had taken another photo from that stood next to it of her getting said revenge by smashing a piece of cake in Dick’s face, Bruce seen in the background with a disapproving look.

           Along with those she let her eyes fall to last set of photos on the fridge, feeling the water works already starting. The anniversary of Jason’s death hit her harder this year. Every year it’d been hard, but the pressure of graduating, keeping up with her nightly activities and the nightmare that was her mother kidnapping and brainwashing Bruce, the day just crept up on her and she didn’t have time to prepare herself.  

           Sighing as she looked at the first photo they took together, she just let the tears fall, knowing she’d only feel worse keeping them in.  They’d snuck out on their first date, having kept their relationship a secret, afraid Bruce wouldn’t allow it because they lived right across the hall from each other. It wasn’t until Jason died did Bruce tell he knew from the beginning. She chuckled at the photo, taking it off the fridge too look at it closely.

           It was just a simple movie date but she remembered being so nervous the entire time. She felt her heart nearly beat out of her chest when he made the first move and clumsily placed his arm around her shoulders twenty minutes into the movie. It took another twenty minutes until she found the courage to lean her head on his shoulder. She’d blushed the brightest when the movie ended and he grabbed her hand and held it as they walked out. He called her a dork, seeing her blush, causing her to blush harder.  He’d snapped the photo shortly after, saying she looked cute when she was frazzled. She defiantly looked frazzled in the photo while he sneaked a kiss on her cheek.

           The second photo of the pair had been of the pair a couple of weeks before he had died. They were just about to graduate High School, and where going to prom together. Bruce insisted they should go, so they told Bruce they were going together because everyone else was lame. She’d actually had fun for the short amount of time that they actually stood at the prom. They quickly snuck out, taking Jason’s car to go get Chinese take-out and parking off somewhere and stuffing their faces.

           Clipping the photo back onto the fridge she sighed again, picking up her phone to look at the picture’s she snuck of Damian today. She held a hand to her lips as she looked them over. She couldn’t get any of the pair together without him seeing her but it was okay. She got him in the petting zoo, a blank face, but you could see that he was content as he pet a goat, and then a llama. She laughed thinking about how enthralled he was by the farm animals. He found the more exotic animals interesting but for whatever reason the farm animals really caught his interest.

           She looked at the top of her phone, seeing a notification from Tim. Clicking on it, she noted how she had to get those pictures printed so she could put them in place with the others. Now reading the text from her brother, she could stop the snort that escaped her nose. Oh Damian,

“Why is Damian demanding Bruce get him a pet cow?”

[se0kie]

kimchi helps the heart heal– myg (m)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst, smut, lil dash of fluff

bestfriend!yoongi, unrequited love, f2l

this is for @ficswithluv​‘s luv library project, do check out the other fics they are absolutely amazing and I had such a fun time with the other authors :) 

warnings: angst, unhealthy eating habits, no eating d*sorders but reader is super careless about her diet so if it’s potentially triggering pls be careful!!, dirty talk, vanilla smut really, sliiiightly rough, little to no foreplay (yikes sorry) unprotected sex but reader is on contraception (wrap ur dingdongs)

summary: being dumped weeks before valentine’s day is not the best feeling. sulking and chocolates are the only obvious medication. but your best friend is set on fixing you up and showing you how much more you truly deserve. innocent kimchi jiggae dates or are there deeper feelings behind your and min yoongi’s weekly meals?

Life is pain. Love is a lie.

There’s no way in hell Rose loved Jack, that bitch just let her man drown. That’s what people do, pretend to love you and then throw you away like some used gum.

Man I hate Eunwoo.

I’m hungry. Should I order? When was the last time I ate something from other than out a takeout box?

These were just some of the thoughts running through your mind. You had just been dumped by your boyfriend and to say the least, you were not taking it well.

You were excited for your first Valentine’s day with an actual valentine, you had been looking at options of restaurants to go to when your then boyfriend Eunwoo abruptly let you know that he in fact did not want to stay together.

No explanations, no excuses, not even breakup sex. You were annoyed and shocked to the point that he left your house and you couldn’t get a single word out in protest. 

You may not have been as upset about losing a boyfriend than you were at the fact that you couldn’t give him a piece of your mind, even angrier because yet again another romantic holiday would pass you by and you would be utterly alone.

Sad.

Pathetic and sad.

You didn’t know why you were so affected by the incident, it wasn’t like you were in love with Eunwoo, yeah sure he was cute, sure he had the body of an angel.

But the only reason you had even started dating him was because... well that didn’t matter right then.

You had fallen into a routine. Waking up at 1 in the afternoon, ordering some or the other greasy, unhealthy food from the large collections of takeout places in your neighbourhood, watching terrible romcoms and ignoring your friends.

They had made multiple attempts at trying to reach you and get you out of your hobbit hole but you tried your damnedest to not give in and suffice to say you had succeeded.

You were caught in one of your usual blank periods of contemplating what was so wrong with you that all your relationships failed, why you couldn’t just satisfy anyone you dated and what the hell would you order for dinner tonight?! You were leaning towards fried chicken and cheese when the bell rang and you were whisked out of your reverie.

You got up from your seat and peeked through the hole in the door.

Somebody was standing outside with bags and bags of groceries, to the point that you couldn’t see their face behind the brown paper bags they were carrying.

You opened the door and without waiting for a word from you the figure rushed into your home and then into your kitchen.

You let out a squeal of shock and followed the intruder, angry and ready to put your second grade karate lessons to the test. But before you could go ahead you heard the man speak, it was a voice you knew more than your own, your best friend since middle school Min Yoongi.

“What the hell Yoongi?! You can’t just barge into my house.” You were furious. Not really, cause it was your closest friend but still you were annoyed and you had been known to be a drama queen of sorts for all your life.

“No Y/N, don’t you ‘what the hell Yoongi’ me. What is wrong with you? Where have you even been?! D’you have any idea how worried we’ve been?! How worried I’ve been??! All I knew was that Eunwoo said something and then left.” 

Yoongi was going off at you and all you could do was stand there and listen to him, after all you knew you were in the wrong, Yoongi was the one person you always stayed in touch with and not speaking to him for a whole week is a never before happened situation. You sighed as he continued with no sign of stopping, “I didn’t know if you were alive, if you died, what Eunwoo did. If he had abducted you and killed you? You’re not replying to your texts or taking any calls, I even emailed you! You have any idea how desperate someone is when they fucking email as a form of communication??!” He finally stopped to gasp for breath after his long ass speech, seeing as you at least had the decency to look sheepish he chose not to continue his tirade and you were grateful for it. Yoongi had a serious parentlike reaction to mistakes and you always felt like you were 5 again being chided by your mom.

Taking his silence as an opportunity you started, “Look I know I was wrong to ignore you but I just needed some time to myself okay? Eunwoo dumped me.” 

Your voice was small and Yoongi felt the sudden need to wrap you in his arms and hold you for hours, comfort you and give you the love you needed. But he knew he shouldn’t test his boundaries so instead he made a little noise in his throat as if to brush away all the explanations he knew you were about to give. He chose to instead divert the topic and make the atmosphere lighthearted , “Whatever, we don’t need to talk about it right now. Anyways I know you’ve probably been eating shitty food and neglecting your health—” You were about to protest when Yoongi had cut you off. “Do not try to deny it Y/N I know you like the back of my hand” 

He really did know you like the back of his hand.

He continued, “I’ve brought groceries, some veggies and fruits and I’m gonna make you dinner for the next few days okay?” You nodded in agreement. This wasn’t new for you. There had been times when you looked for comfort in unhealthy food and habits and your best friend had come to your rescue to nurture you back to normalcy, besides, Yoongi was an amazing cook and even you were getting tired of the greasy pizzas and pints of ice cream. You knew your body needed Yoongi’s cooking to recover from your junk food spree.

Not waiting for any further conversation, Yoongi went back to the kitchen and you could hear him rustling around pulling out ingredients for dinner. You went to see him and poked your head from the side of the doorway into the kitchen, exactly like you used to when your mom would cook dinner when you were a child. He was cutting pieces of chicken into little cubes and his face had the cutest little look of determination. You couldn’t help but coo internally at how sweet he was being. He was bobbing around soaking noodles in water and mixing sauces together, he looked so domestic and it suddenly hit you just how much he cared about you. Unlike anyone else ever had.

 “What are you making for dinner?”

 “Kimchi jiggae and chicken stir fry. Is that alright or do you want something else?” You hummed in agreement.

Your tastebuds salivated at the thought of it, Yoongi’s chicken stir fry was something you had been eating for years and it only tasted better each time you tried it.

You felt warmth flood at the sight of your friend taking care of you, “Hey Yoongi.”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“Thanks for caring about me.” You said with a small smile.

Yoongi smiled with a little sigh. You knew it was enough reciprocation.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence though he chimed up, “Hey Y/N why don’t you go take a shower while I get dinner ready? You stink.” 

You scoffed at his statement but you knew your hair was greasy and your body had been subjected to a whole week of sad eating. It was time to get your shit together. So you obediently went to take a much needed shower, letting the warm water roll over you and release the tension from your back and shoulders. You had lost count of how long you had been under the water when you noticed your fingers beginning to prune.

You got ready and left with restless steps towards the kitchen, which was now smelling deliciously of soy sauce and chicken. The dinner table had been laid with plates and heaps and heaps of delectable dishes. Kimchi jiggae, some japchae, chicken stir fry and rice. You sat down opposite Yoongi and mumbled a thank you before digging in. 

Yoongi looked at you fondly as you ate. He hated when you retreated away from him during times you truly needed a friend, he always wanted to be there for you but it was hard when your first instinct was to isolate yourself and drown in junk food. He ate silently with you, chuckling every now and then at your squishy cheeks full with noodles.

After you were both done and the dirty dishes had been cleaned the two of you sat down on your couch, Yoongi insisting on having a talk that was long overdue. He sighed, “Tell me what happened between you and Eunwoo, Y/N.” You looked at him with wide eyes. It’s not like you would hide it from him but the truth is you were embarrassed of what had gone down. “Eunwoo dumped me. There’s not much to it. We were sitting on the couch having a normal evening when he just randomly tells me he doesn’t love me. That he couldn’t be with me knowing that our relationship would go nowhere.” You said with a sad smile. Its not like you were deep in love with him either, but you were excited about being with him. It was your first real relationship as an adult and you were looking forward to being cheesy and going on Valentine’s day dates. What a waste.

Yoongi gave a sigh of understanding, moving quickly to your side and wrapping his arms around your shoulder, pulling your back to his chest. He murmured into your ear, “Oh Y/N, you should’ve told me. I would’ve come over as soon as possible, you had to go through that all alone. Oh sweetie I’m so sorry. He’s an asshole.” You chuckled dryly, “Well I’m more disappointed about the fact that I’ll once again be alone on the wretched day. Can’t believe my one chance at Valentine’s day roses and chocolates is over.” Yoongi scoffed at your bluntness, “It’s okay I’ll be there with you on Valentine’s. Who needs relationships when you can have a best friend, right?” You nodded slowly at his words, basking in his familiar warmth. 

You were grateful Yoongi had barged into your home, that he had taken the first step and extended his arms towards you. You needed him, you truly did... but you were just too scared to reach out.

It had been a solid week of Yoongi coming over to your home and spending the evenings with you, cooking dinner and then watching trashy movies together. Your house had been smelling deliciously all week, Yoongi had been thoroughly pampering you, with his food and attention, suffice to say your ego along with your stomach were well fed. You and your best friend had fallen into a weird rythm together. He would always show up to your house in the evenings, cook dinner that left you fantasizing about it well after it was eaten and watch movies with you that would obviously be ignored so that you could gossip like you used to when you were kids.

You could also feel yourself slowly slip into the feelings you had before you got with your ex. You had always had a massive crush on Yoongi. He was your senior in school who had taken you under his wing, the two outcasts of Daegu High, it had always been you and him. But you knew that your friendship and bond with Yoongi outweighed your otherwise romantic feelings and you learned to ignore them whenever you were around him, so every single waking moment.

You were getting carried away with your thoughts when you heard the usual ring of the doorbell, you got up from your seat at the couch and opened the door to a red cheeked Yoongi, walking into your home to escape the cold. Not wasting time on pleasantries, that’s just how you two were, he removed his coat and went to the kitchen that now felt more like his than yours. 

“I was thinking we could have some steak tonight, huh Y/N? Feels like a steaks and potatoes kinda night, doesn’t it?” 

You could hear Yoongi’s voice amidst the clanging of pots and pans, you replied, “Yeah I could go for steak. I have some really great wine too,” walking into the kitchen to show him your treasure, “I got it from Eunwoo’s friend when they came over for dinner this one time.” 

You gazed at the dark sheen of the bottle. Eunwoo was useless but at least his friend was still helping you days after your breakup. 

Yoongi nodded, “Yeah sure, as long as you don’t get a wine headache and beg me to massage your head.” You feigned annoyance, “Min Yoongi! How dare you?! You’re the one who gets wine headaches, not me. Do not accuse me of things I’m not guilty of.” Yoongi laughed at your antics, gummy smile on display. You could feel your heart skip a beat at the way his face glowed, it was a feeling you hadn’t felt in a very long time.

And just before you could turn on the full fangirl mode, Yoongi cleared his throat and said, “Help me with the potatoes now, we’ll get done faster if you put your ass to work Y/L/N.” You gave him a dirty look and set out to find the potatoes and peel them.

You found the ingredients you needed for the mashed potatoes and started peeling the skin off while observing your friend spearing the cuts of meat and rubbing them with seasoning. You had always admired how great he was with food, he never cooked for just anyone. You had to be special, someone who Yoongi truly cared about, for him to cook for you. And that’s why you loved it so much that he was always making you something or the other to eat and munch on. It seemed like you mattered to him, like you were someone worthwhile of knowing and being friends with. Surprisingly, it was a feeling you weren’t well acquainted with. 

Not wanting to think about depressing things during such a sweet moment you instead chose to focus on how Yoongi caught his tongue between his teeth while handling the meat, how he peeled the garlic and seared the steaks in the oil. His face had a look of utter concentration and you were sent back to being 13 and making papier-mâché volcanoes for your eighth grade project with Yoongi. Some things never changed.

Having deemed you useless in the kitchen Yoongi banished you to the living room after you accidentally sprinkled sugar into the potatoes instead of salt, his exact words were “Y/N you are a hazard to our dinner, please leave and let me be.”

Not like you were hurt or anything, pssh.

You watched a show on Netflix while waiting for Yoongi to finish up which was thankfully not very long. You set the dinner table with the cutlery as he served the steaks and potatoes, a delicious smell wafting from your plates. You cut a piece of the meat, seared on the outside and perfectly pink in the middle. You moaned at the taste of the garlic and beef as it spread through your tastebuds. 

Yoongi asked as he watched you, “You like it?” 

“Mmhmm.” You could only hum as you savoured the flavours, an enthusiastic nod confirming your feelings. A small smile made its way to his face as he felt his ego swell at the blissed out look of appreciation on yours. The two of you ate in comfortable silence punctuated with mindless remarks here and there and random questions thrown in. It would have been awkward for anyone else, anyone else but you and Yoongi.

Yoongi swallowed his morsel before saying, “You know Y/N I never really liked Eunwoo. Ever since I met him I always had a bad feeling about him.” 

You set down your fork at having finished your meal and asked, “Seriously? I didn’t know that I just thought you didn’t want to get too involved in our relationship.” You gave a sigh of realisation. This was news to you. Yoongi continued, “No, yeah I didn’t like him at all. He was always so shady, too nice to people’s faces I didn’t think he was genuine at all.”

“Wow, well you know I can understand. He was sort of an asshole. He was always nice to people but he rarely ever said nice things about them when they weren’t around.” You continued, “Guess I got lucky then, huh?” “Yes definitely. You’re too good for that snake.”

“But still it would’ve been nice to have him as my valentine. He might’ve been a reptile but he had a reaaaaally long–” 

“Y/N!! Shut up! I don’t wanna know!!” he squealed.

 You laughed at Yoongi’s horrified expression. It was so easy to rile him up you couldn’t resist it.

“Jeez loosen up grandpa. No, but really I hate being dumped, especially when the dumper is so ruthlessly gorgeous. Ugh.” You sighed. Life was cruel to you, it was decided, you were sure.

Another moment of silence ensued. You glanced at Yoongi and caught him already looking at you. Big brown eyes boring into yours. You were reminded of all the times you had sat across from him like this. You didn’t know what came over you but you found yourself suddenly saying, “Hey Yoongs, you wanna know a secret?” Yoongi hummed in response. A nod followed.

“I used to like you before I dated Eunwoo.”

A pin could have dropped and you would’ve heard it, it was that quiet. Yoongi just continued to look at you, a peculiar expression on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. Something bordering on frustration and hesitance. “Oh...” All you could do was glance at him and your fingers on the table.

After a moment of mulling over it, he said, “Why are you telling me this? You’re not kidding, are you Y/N? Cause this would be a really cruel joke.”

“No! Of course not! I’m not messing around, I promise. I really don’t know why I said that I’m so sor—”

But before you could get another word out of your mouth his face smoothed over. “Thanks for the lovely evening Y/N but I think I need some time alone. I’ll see you tomorrow.” he said with a sad smile. He gathered his things from the seat beside him, and then he got up and left.

To tell the truth, you were not expecting to be greeted by Yoongi’s face at your door the next day. You thought you had messed up your friendship for good. Or at least for a few weeks. So suffice to say you were thoroughly surprised to see Yoongi once again barge into your house without an invite and carrying on preparing tteokbokki and samgyeopsal for dinner.

Silence reigned for minutes as you gathered enough courage to face him in the kitchen. You walked into the tiny space of the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, waiting for him to speak his mind. You were just about to start when he cut you off and said, “I’m sorry for last night.”

“Oh- No it’s okay, Yoongi. I know it was a shoc-”

“No it’s really not okay Y/N. You just shared something with me and I obviously blew it out of proportion. I shouldn’t have walked out on you.” He looked at you he said this, sincerity gleaming off his face.

“It’s okay Yoongs, I wasn’t mad. In fact I should’ve kept it to myself.”

“No!” He said suddenly, cheeks reddening at the realisation that he was way too quick to correct you. Sheepishly, he continued, “I’m really glad you told me Y/N. Thank you.”

Although you didn’t entirely know why he was thanking you, you just went along with it. Not wanting to cause further awkwardness you left him as you usually did, bustling around looking for pots and pans while he entered his own little world right there.

Dinner had been amazing, as it always is when Yoongi was cooking. After polishing everything off your plates you and Yoongi were now watching Clueless on your laptop, huddled together to keep the chill out. Yoongi’s arm around your shoulder and yours latched across his waist. 

To an outsider this would seem like an intimate position for a pair of ‘just friends’ to be in but you and Yoongi had always been like this. Affection and skinship weren’t things that were openly (or ever) shown to the both of you when you were children, so it only made sense that the two of you looked to the other as a source of comfort. You were never afraid of being your childish self in front of him. One time he had taken care of you when you were drunk off your ass and although you barely remember that night, Yoongi had made sure to tell you had puked on his new trench coat. If it were anyone else in the world you would be mortified, but it wasn’t anyone. It was your best bud Yoongi.

 Not knowing how to deal with this intense nostalgia and appreciation you resorted to what you always did when you didn’t want to get too emotional.

Pillow fight!!!

You reached for the blue throw cushion to your right and smacked Yoongi square in his face. He blinked, registering what had just happened. And then in a split second he had ripped the pillow out of your clutch and thrown it behind him. His arms flew out to trap your wrists in one of his hands as he yelped, “Hey! What was that for? Usually you notify me before smacking me in the face.” You rolled your eyes at how cheesy he sounded, “I’m boorrrreed Yoongi!” 

“Oh well are you still bored now?” He says as he hits your shoulder with the cushion he had apparently been hiding behind his back the entire time. You squealed at the sudden impact and grabbed a pillow of your own, face scrunched up at the soft blows that you were landing on his platinum blonde head.

While the both of you went at each other with all your might you had somehow ended up on top of Yoongi, hitting his chest with a too small cushion that you knew wouldn’t hurt him. Your legs had slotted around his waist and you were currently sat on his thighs. The warmth from his skin soaking into yours.

Limply the pillow you were holding fell out of your grasp as you and Yoongi breathed heavily, staring into each other’s eyes while trying to catch your breaths. Your eyes scanned his face, brown eyes boring into yours, lips soft but slightly chapped, tantalisingly red like cherries smeared upon them. You felt an overwhelming urge to just lean down and peck him. 

Would he taste as sweet as he looked? Yoongi looked at you as you focused on his lips. Waiting with bated breaths to see if you would do what he ached for you to do. He had always been scared of being the one who approached you, the one who put his feelings out in the open for you to accept or reject. He had instead chosen to let you come to him if you felt similarly, he wanted you to be with him only if your heart said so and not because of any obligation you felt towards him. He wanted you heart, not your calculated decisions.

Right when he thought that maybe he was looking too much into it you bent your head down to his and captured his lips in yours.

You could taste Min Yoongi. Soft, slightly rough from the cold and sweet from his strawberry lip balm. You held your position for a few seconds, scared to move in fear of him not wanting it when you felt something below you. Something hard and poking into your shorts, definitely not the TV remote. Unexpected heat flooded through your stomach at the thought of what you had done to Yoongi. Surely this was your doing, you could feel Yoongi starting to kiss you back when he stopped abruptly. A soft “fucking hell” leaving his lips as his gaze flicked downwards to where your core sat upon his. His eyes flew back to yours, strangely apologetic. If only he knew that you frequently dreamt of being in this exact position.

But the last thing you want is for Yoongi to feel uncomfortable around you so like the good, responsible best friend you are you unmount from his lap and put some safe distance between your bodies.

“Yoongi I am so sorry.” you say softly.

Confusion paints his face, “What? Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know what came over me, I should not have done that. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncom-”

“Y/N fucking stop apologising for a second.”

You clearly looked shocked at this point you were sure of it, you were expecting the sudden change in tone. “Fine, I just...it wasn’t my intention to come at you without any warnings. Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.”

Yoongi scoffed internally at your words, what the hell were you saying? Did you not want to kiss him? Or were you worried about what he would think of you? Because he sure as hell did not want to forget about it, it being something he had spent hours fantasizing about. Yoongi felt sudden irritation fill him, you were still rambling about how you weren’t thinking clearly and it was a mistake. All of which was just contributing further to Yoongi’s annoyance.

“Y/N I think I should leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said simply as he picked up his coat and gave you an unexpected kiss on the forehead. A simple brush of his lips against your skin and you knew you had fucked up. You should’ve just stayed shut and let him speak about whatever he was obviously wanting to say.

 Once again you cursed yourself for your inability to read people’s emotions. The last thing you had wanted was to make Yoongi feel uncomfortable but you had failed to consider the fact that maybe he had wanted to kiss you too. As you heard his footsteps slowly die down into the hallway outside your apartment you let out a groan of frustration at your own thickheadedness and burried your face into the blue pillow in your lap. What were you gonna do with all these damned emotions?

You woke up bright and early the next day, your mood significantly better than it had been the past month. And then you were rudely met with memories of the previous night. Everything flashed past you as you recalled kissing your best friend and the ugly debacle that followed after. You were about to dwell on your stupidity and how naive you had been to think that maybe, just maybe, your friend of more than a decade would somehow return your feelings when your phone rang. You scrambled to find the gadget which had been lodged under your pillow and checked the caller id. It was your colleague Irene. She never really called, preferring to talk over text so you assumed it must be important. Busy conversing with your friend you missed the familiar jangling of the keys at your front door as you made your way into the kitchen to prepare your ritualistic morning cup of coffee.

Unbeknownst to you Yoongi had slipped into your living room, depositing the bags of grocery on the table. He could you hear you giggling in the kitchen and just faintly made out the words you were saying.

“I can’t come Irene, I have...plans.”

A pause, he assumed said Irene was speaking. His brows furrowed as he took in what you had said. Who could you possibly have plans with on Valentine’s? Unless you had struck up a date and hadn’t told him. His heart ached, totally unnecessarily but he was used to it by now.

“I would love to get piss drunk on Valentine’s Irene, trust me, but I have plans with someone and I really can’t ditch.” Another pause and then you were saying, “I mean I don’t really know if it’s a date? We haven’t discussed it yet. But enough about me, you go and have loads of fun for me, okay? I’ll talk to you later, buh-bye!”

He stood near the door, not having moved an inch since he entered.

You were absolutely not prepared to be greeted by Yoongi’s figure as you left the kitchen. You let out a yelp of shock at seeing him. “AGH!! Yoongi?! What the hell? You have got to stop entering my house without a warning, you scared me half to death.”

“Oh stop being so dramatic Y/N I told you I’d come over for breakfast today. And since I know you’re such an early bird I just let myself in instead of waking you up.”

“Oh. Right, of course.”

 After a moment of contemplation you said, “Listen Yoongs, should we, y’know, talk about last night?”

You noticed his eyes widen for a split second and then a mask of composure, smooth and swift, so Yoongi.

“Let’s not. We can discuss it after breakfast, sound okay?”

You hummed in agreement, nodding at his statement.

The both of you stood in the silence. When had things become so awkward between you?

“Hey Y/N?”

You looked at him, telling him to go on.

“I couldn’t help but overhear and uh...are you planning something for Valentine’s Day?”

“Uhh, yes. Duh. You promised to spend it with me, remember?”

Yoongi felt the blood rush to his cheeks, face reddening at the implication of your words. And then those familiar twinges of pain puledl at his heart. He couldn’t bear to keep doing this. Falling back and forth into these weird spaces of loving you and hoping to be with you and then turning back into the mature best friend.

“Y/N I don’t think I can spend Valentine’s with you.”

Your face an image of confusion at his words, “What? Why? Did something happen?” As a new theory dawned on you, “Oh my god, is this about last night? I’m sorry, I really am I shouldn-“

“No! It’s not about that. I just...”

“You just what?”

“I have a date that night. I came to tell you that over breakfast.”

“Bullshit.”

Yoongi’s face easily gave away his lie, he may know you better than yourself but you knew him too. He would never keep something like a date a secret from you.

“Tell me really why you won’t spend Valentine’s with me. It’s about the kiss, isn’t it? See, I knew it, I really am sorry Yoongi. Don’t shut me out because of that I promise it won’t happen ever agai-“

“Damnit Y/N! It’s not about the fucking kiss okay! I loved it. I loved kissing you and that’s exactly where the problem lies. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t love you. I can’t act like maybe, just fucking maybe you want me the same way I want you. So I’m sorry but I can’t spend that damned day with you, Y/N. It kills me to hurt you like this but I need to do this for myself.”

You were speechless. Words rushing through your mind but none settling on your lips. You really needed to practice how to control your mouth when you were shocked, so many troubles could have been prevented if you’d just. fucking. say something.

But of course, fate would have Yoongi walking out on you. Something that he had been doing increasingly since the past few days. And you, dumbstruck, standing in your living room. Mixed feelings of joy, confusion and sadness rendering you voiceless as you stood and watched your best friend, your childhood crush and the person you loved the most step out of the threshold with faint, glistening tears in his eyes.

It had been three days since Yoongi’s outburst/confession. You had texted him non stop, called him at least 50 times and yes, even emailed him. You were that desperate. 

But Yoongi was surprisingly resilient, he had ignored all your advances and completely shut you out. You felt stupid and frustrated and stupid yet again, after a point you lost count of how many times you had kicked yourself for being a brainless jellyfish while your first love walked out on you. After confessing that he loved you too. 

Your life was like the worst romcom with all the comedy and none of the romance. 

You sighed, once again forgetting how many times you’d repeated that action.

Finally after a somewhat convincing pep talk (it wasn’t convincing nor a talk, you had watched Marley & Me and cried thrice and then decided to just fuck it all and go for your crush, but let’s pretend it was a pep talk) you decided to take your chances approaching Yoongi. 

You threw on your most flattering sweatshirt and pyjamas and speed walked to the corner take out store that sold your favourite pork ribs and fried rice, placed your order and then thrummed your fingers agitatedly against the counter for the agonising time period of ten whole minutes.

Take out bags in hand you were feeling quite like the prince in a fairytale out on an adventure to woo his princess. Except you weren’t a prince and the only adventure at your hands was finding a damned taxi ready to take you to Gangnam on freaking Valentine’s evening. Yoongi did fit the part of the brooding young maiden sulking in her tower. Oh gosh you were rambling to yourself, the nerves had truly gotten to you.

Finally a cabbie decided to take you to Yoongi’s neighbourhood, surely alarmed at your expression that looked dangerously close to tears.

You tapped your feet inside the taxi, driving the man in the front seat to madness while he drove you to your soon-to-be beloved’s skyscraper apartment. As you reached your destination you shoved a few bills into the driver’s outstretched hand. You rode up the elevator to Yoongi’s flat and hoped with all your heart that he would be home. If you knew your best friend, and you thought you really did, he would be wearing his brown pyjamas binge watching Friends.

You quickly reached his door and sure enough, you could hear the faint shouts of Ross claiming ‘they were on a break!!’

 You smiled to yourself, and rang the bell. Feeling a strange sense of deja vu, you realised that you were in the same position as Yoongi had been in the past few weeks. Bags in hand, ringing the doorbell to the other’s house in an attempt to reach out after days of no communication. 

With horror setting in you thought, what if he didn’t open the door for you at all? What if he was mad beyond repair and you would be left out there in his hallway as he completely ignored you even after you’d shown up at his front door? You were once again, dangerously close to tears when the door flew open, revealing a suspiciously red-faced red-eyed Yoongi. Had he been crying? You felt your heart crush at the thought. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and hold him close and never leave his side.

But first, explanations.

“Hey Yoongs.”

“Hi Y/N.”

You were expecting him to say something, anything. Scream, shout, ask you why you were here. You were completely unprepared for the silence.

“Uh...can I come in? If you don’t mind?”

“Oh yeah, sure come in.”

He stepped aside to let you into his oddly familiar apartment. You had spent countless days and nights here. It had been way too long since you’d visited you realised as you took in the new furniture arrangement.

“I brought pork ribs.” you said with a weak smile as you raised the now cold bag of take out.

“Thanks. Just put it on the counter.”

You did as he said and sat down on the stool opposing the couch.

You started as he sat facing you on the white couch, “I think we need to talk.”

Yoongi chuckled drily, “Yeah I’d say so.”

“You said your piece, but I didn’t really get a chance to say mine. Is it okay if I speak?”

“Listen Y/N you don’t have to coddle me okay? Just say you don’t like me like that and go, don’t dig at the already salted wound I’m jus-“

“Yoongi shut up for a second, please.” you said firmly, you needed him to just shut up and listen for once.

“You’ve been doing a whole lot of walking out on me, right now I need you to just listen to me, okay?”

Yoongi pursed his lips, and after a few seconds nodded, gesturing at you to continue.

“I’ve liked you ever since we got stuck together as outcasts in high school. I’ve liked you since the first time you got into a fight for me, since you started taking care of me and cooking meals for me. I’m so, so deeply sorry I couldn’t say this to you before. I was so afraid of losing your friendship I just couldn’t bring myself to confess.” You could feel fresh tears sting at your eyes, your gaze trained at your fingers that laid in your lap. Briefly you panned your eyes to Yoongi’s face and you were sure his expression was mirroring yours. With a renewed breath of determination you continued, “But i’m not going to sit by and watch you slip through my fingers anymore. I like you, Yoongi. I like you and love you and want you. So much so that it hurts from the sheer need to have you around me. The only reason I could even think about dating Eunwoo was because I was afraid I couldn’t keep up the facade anymore. I love you and I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”

You breathed, trying to control your uneven heart rate. The muscle pumping like crazy in your chest you were scared he could hear it.

And just like that Yoongi was getting up from his seat and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, his face buried in your hair as you clung to his figure and hid your face in the crook of his neck. He spoke with his voice muffled by your hair, “You won’t believe how relieved I am to hear you say that, my love. I love you, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you so so much.” 

“I love you too, Yoongs.” you murmured into his neck. It felt good to say that, as if the invisible weight you’d been carrying for years as unrequited love had just been lifted.

The two of you stayed like that for minutes, hours, you don’t even know.

But now Yoongi had brought his face down to your neck, nuzzling it with his nose and pecking the sensitive spot at the base of your throat.

You could feel the change in the atmosphere, the air charged with electricity, heat flooding your body as the man in your arms sucked bruises onto the smooth skin of your neck and collarbones.

“Let’s go to my bedroom.” Yoongi rasped, voice husky with need.

You stumbled your way to his room, not wanting to take your hands off each other, Yoongi tearing at your clothes trying to undress you.

You broke away for a second and a whine left his lips in annoyance, you giggled at how needy he sounded. Taking off your top and pants you settled into the fluffy blankets of Yoongi’s bed as he hovered over you. Apparently Yoongi was more dominant than you had thought him to be. He continued lapping at your neck, butterfly kisses at your jaw and rough hands on your hips.

“I’m gonna mark you up, gonna let everyone know you’re mine. You’re mine, aren’t you, angel?” He kissed you again but this time it was with more force and urgency. As if he was afraid of you being a hologram, afraid that you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“Yes, only yours Yoongi.” you gasped as he nipped at the spot below your ear. You felt wetness gush through your sex as his rough, calloused fingers swiped at your slit. Prodding at your leaking hole and giving an experimental rub at your swollen clit. A moan ripped through your throat at the feeling. You had been deprived of sex for way too long, along with your heightened emotions at being with the one you loved you were wetter than you’d ever been. 

And Yoongi knew this. “How are you so wet, angel?” he marvelled at the copious amounts of slick you were producing, his cock standing tall with pride knowing he had done this to you. “Yoongi please, I can’t wait anymore please fuck me.” you pleaded.

“Tsk-tsk Y/N. I need to prepare you first baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m wet enough Yoongi please, I need you so so badly please.” You were sure you looked close to tears, Yoongi looking at you with equal amounts awe, adoration and lust.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I really wanted to taste you before fucking you.”

“We can do that anytime else Yoongi please, please fuck me please!” you would’ve been embarrassed at how whiney you sounded any other time but right then you felt like you would die if another second passed and Yoongi wasn’t stuffed balls deep in your sopping cunt.

“Okay fine, angel lemme just grab the condom.”

“I’m clean, and on birth control. You can cum inside me but just fuck me please, I’m gonna die if I don’t feel you inside me!”

Yoongi groaned at your words, “Fuck, Y/N you’re gonna be the death of me. You’re talking like such a cumslut wanting me to fuck my cum inside you. You want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes Yoongi I do, please I want your cum so bad.”

“Well what my baby wants,” he says as he lines his cockhead against your cunt, “My baby gets.” He thrusts into you with unimaginable vigour, you feel stuffed and oh so full. Every ridge of his perfect cock pressing into the walls of your pussy. You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his plush ass. “Yoongi please move.”

He pulls out of you all the way until only his tip rests inside your cunt and then slams back in with an animalistic growl. “You look so beautiful, my perfect little angel, my babygirl.”

You clench around his cock at the nicknames he showers upon you. He pulls out all the way to the tip and thrusts into you again with a jolt, sending you both slamming against the pillows. He does it once, twice, thrice and then you’ve lost count, forgotten your name and who you are as only one names lies on your tongue. Yoongi.

“I’m close Y/N, I want you to cum with me baby, come on angel.”

His hand reaches down between your conjoined bodies to where your clit meets his pubic bone as he thrusts mercilessly into you. Fingers rubbing furious circles against your clit, the squelching sounds of your juices making the scene even more perverse. And with a final thrust you’re cumming with a loud scream of his name as you feel spurt after spurt of hot cum rush deep inside your belly. You pant together as his cock softens inside you and his thick cum leaks out of your battered pussy.

But that can be overlooked for now because you’re in love and together and his arms feel like home when they pull you close to his chest.

You are at the brink of falling into deathlike sleep when you hear his soft voice flow to your ears, “This isn’t a dream, is it Y/N? You’ll be here in the morning, won’t you? Promise me you’ll be here.”

Your chest tightens at how unsure and meek he sounds, wanting to speak a thousand words and kiss him a hundred different ways to show him that you’re real. But in your tired state you settle for kissing the arm that’s around your chest and saying, “You can’t get rid of me even if you tried Min Yoongi. I love you. Now go to sleep and you’ll find me in the morning right here. In your arms.”

[voidingintotheshout]

December 4th: Hot Cocoa With Marshmallows

The party had gone on for three or four hours and Trevor sat eating through most of it. Pigs in a blanket, quiche, appetizers, dozens of cookies; eggnog both spiked and not. All kinds of delicious holiday treats went into his growing belly. Maybe it was the eggnog, or the shots of spiced Brandy, but by the end of the night he wasn’t even hiding his greedy gluttony anymore.

He was still a charming party guest, offering sparkling conversation to anyone who happened near, but he did notice that it was a different type of conversation. People talked to him differently. Before, they talk to him like people were talking to Jack, like you would talk to a minor celebrity. That’s what it was like when people were talking with a hot person. It was great at first, but he had just gotten so tired of it.

He thought about this as he munched on some pizza rolls they were clearly out of the box but they were filling and there were a lot of them. He felt like one way in which he could be a good party guest is to eat the foods that clearly nobody else was interested in eating. A lot of food needed to go into this belly of his so it might as will be the foods that other people weren’t competing for.

The host came over “Thank you for finishing those pizza rolls. She just gets a case of them from Costco and brings that. I have to put it out or else she will get upset but no one ever eats them. I made some of my famous hot chocolate with a bowl of marshmallows on the side to add as many as you want. I put the hot chocolate in a pitcher, so you can refill your cup as you need to. But hey, I want to say that it’s really awesome of you to get Jack to wear your old Christmas suit. He doesn’t even know what to do himself with all this extra attention. I have to ask though, why the change?”

“Honestly? I always knew that he didn’t care about how I looked, and over the previous year, I have been noticing more and more that taking care of my body was keeping me away from the man I loved. He would be taking some cooking classes and he couldn’t share any of the stuff he was making with me because it was too fattening.”

“Really?”

“Really. I was hanging out with his friends from the cooking class and he had gone to the bathroom and they were talking about some of Jack’s favorite recipes and I didn’t know any of them. At first, I thought it was just because I don’t know much about cooking but then he sheepishly mentioned that he didn’t talk about them because he didn’t want me to have to refuse to eat recipe after recipe because he didn’t want to feel like he was pressuring me to eat unhealthy food he knew I didn’t want.” Trevor sighed, and looked bashfully down. “Do you get it? Taking care of my body was causing the man I love to start keeping things from me and it was keeping me out of parts of his life that really meant something to him. Not to mention the time at the gym.” He added with an airy gesture of his hand. “There were all of the times where he just wanted a quiet night at home and chose to hang out with one of his friends instead of me because he didn’t want to keep me from the gym.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. The worst was right around Valentine’s Day, when he started to imply that it was OK if I started to check out other guys right in front of him on dates because, he felt like it only made sense for me to want a more in shape guy with a body like mine instead of his. It made me feel really bad, like I was living my life for myself. I felt like I needed to change my priorities and make him a priority in my life. I needed to make him feel like he was my priority, not my physique.” Trever smiled, holding up the mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. “Thanks for the hot chocolate, by the way.”

“No problem, big guy. Bears are hot right now.”

“It’s all that extra fat.” Trevor said laughing as the host walked off to greet another guest.

He wondered how far he was going to take this new lifestyle that has started as a rebellion against his place in the social circle. He did this partially because he had been tired of all of the backhanded compliments about Jack behind his partner’s back. Asking Trevor if Jack had a great sense of humor, if Jack was really successful at work, or rich. Always the implication that clearly looks were not what drew Trevor to his husband. He didn’t really even care about his own looks anymore. He already had his fun being the hot younger guy and now he was settled down. Nobody at work really cared what he looked like and the guys in the gay community that cared what he, a married man looked like, were usually bad news.

The decision to start gaining weight happened around Valentine’s Day earlier that year. He had gone to dinner and dancing with his husband and while his husband was off getting drinks (whose idea had it been for Jack to be the one in the servant role in the relationship that got things for him, Trevor wondered). They have been thick as thieves all night with Trevor unable to keep his hands off his curvy beautiful husband and this morally bankrupt Twink piece of trash came over and started hitting on him on Valentine’s Day, while he was on a date with his husband. It galled Trevor that even after he said “I’m here with my husband on Valentine’s Day.“

He couldn’t believe it when that asshole replied “I can’t blame you for wanting to talk to me when your husband is looking like that. Oink oink! Am I right?” The Twink added, snickering.

Trevor was apoplectic. He grabbed a little twerp and held him about an inch in the air, his muscles rippling. “If I see you coming back here and talking to me again I swear to God I will tear your dick off and beat you to death with it. Get the fuck away from me and don’t ever say anything nasty about my husband again. He is the hottest fucking guy and he has what you will never have—class.”

“Pfft. Fine. Guess sloppy guys are your kink. I can’t compete with that. I actually exercise. Have fun fucking person pudding.” The twink said as he laughed and walked away.

Trevor glanced back and noticed that Jack was making his way back to the bar, only having eyes for him. He hated himself. What had Jack heard? What Jack said next would change Trevor’s waistline forever. “Don’t worry about it. Dating a guy as hot as you, I expect other guys to hit on you. That guy was cute. I don’t mind if sometimes you want to look. I know you’re going home with me. I love you.”

Even though he hadn’t done anything, Trevor felt like shit. He hated having to deal with assholes hitting on him and not really being respected for what he brought to the table because he was just automatically given better treatment because of his looks. He loved the fact that Jack was not even remotely interested in his physique because that didn’t play into his sexual fantasies involving Trevor or their sexual compatibility. Increasingly, Trevor didn’t even like this physique either.

They hung out at the nightclub for some pre-dinner drinks for a little bit longer and then Trevor remember that there was an amazing gourmet pizza restaurant that Jack had been wanting to go to for six months and all of a sudden it seemed like the right night to go, that Valentine’s Day date all of those months and pounds ago. “I love you too. Speaking of, I had an idea. Do you remember that gourmet pizza restaurant a couple of blocks from here that you’ve been wanting to go to for a while? Well, I know I didn’t make a New Year’s resolution this year but I think my resolution this year is to eat more carbs. You are such a great cook and I really want to start enjoying everything that you have to offer in the kitchen. Besides, I’ve had a decade to enjoy this fit trim body, I’d like to take some time to enjoy other parts of life instead of just the gym and different ways to flavor chicken breast. Would you mind if we started experimenting in the kitchen a little bit more?”

“But what about your abs and the muscle definition you worked so hard for? I thought we were going to that salad place for our Valentine’s date. That would be okay with me. I can get pizza with one of my other friends. I know how important your fit, toned physique is to you. I wouldn’t wanna mess that up.”

Now Trevor really did feel like shit. “Honestly? I’m tired of looking like this. It’s not fun anymore. I’m with you, an amazing guy that makes me happy every single day and I could be wrong but I don’t think you really care about how my body looks and I’m really tired of the negative attention that it’s getting me. I’m tired of feeling like I’m missing out on fun things in life like amazing desserts and delicious pizza because I need to watch my calories and carbs. I’m tired of it. How would you feel if I just let go of my restrictive nutrition regimen and just started eating whatever I felt like with you. Would you mind?“

Ever so quietly, Jack whispered “actually, I’ve often fantasized about you being bigger. Softer. More comfortable. I knew how important fitness was when we started dating, so I was happy for you being big with muscles; but you being big with muscles and curves would be really hot I think. The pizza is really good there. Also, if you put on a little weight then we might be able to wear some of the same clothes.”

Right then, Trevor decided that they would be able to wear some of the same clothes because soon Trevor was going to get bigger and fatter than Jack had ever been and Jack would have his own wardrobe and Trevor’s old wardrobe to choose from. “I’m definitely going to be making a pig of myself there. I might get a whole pizza for myself.”

“You should! Indulge. Be bad. Weak. Let the whole restaurant see that you don’t have any self-control. That you can’t stop yourself.”

Trevor smiled. “Let’s get pizza. I’m feeling hungry.”

Suddenly, he was shaken from his reverie by Jack. He was pulled out of the memories of that amazing Valentine’s Day date and back to the Christmas party, where he found that he had been absentmindedly eating the whole time he’d been daydreaming. “Hey pig. I think it’s hot that you’re stuffing food into your mouth with your hands, off in your own world over here, but our friends are starting to stare. Maybe we can dance and chitchat with our friends before you eat yourself into a coma?”

Even though his body was getting soft, something was getting hard, And both men knew it. Trevor’s plate was now empty plate in a nearby trashcan and he accepted the waiting hand of his sexy husband who lovingly heaved him up off of the chair so they could dance to some of their favorite songs, body against the body. Firm against flesh. It was a good life.

[nikoalaa]

usually this is something i’d post on a side blog with no tags or followers (just to get out of my head), but i think this time i want the possibility of someone helping. idk how long this will be but i’ll put it under a read more when i’m on my computer.

i’ve been struggling more lately. idk if it’s just the pandemic and quarantine and everything getting to me, but this has all been happening before too, just maybe not as often. i’m more anxious, i’m more depressed, i want to shut myself away from friends and not leave my house much unless it’s a quick trip somewhere by myself. i’m so tired all the time. i’m just so, so exhausted. and since i’m home a lot with nothing to do, i’ll sleep. my schedule is so messed up. i sleep basically 5am-2pm and then sometimes still take a nap. like today i slept 5 or 6 am- 2, woke up and had something small to eat, sat at my computer and then slept again 6:30pm-9pm. i jokingly call this my “unemployed schedule” with my parents, but i think they just think i’m lazy.

and speaking of them, i think a lot of my problems i have with myself would be nonexistent if i just had good parents. my crooked teeth wouldn’t be an issue if my dad didn’t hate doctors and was scared of the dentist, therefore never making appointments for me or my brother, resulting in us both not having good teeth. my weight and unhealthy relationship to food wouldn’t be an issue if my mom would have just made me eat a god damn vegetable when i was a kid instead of just giving me chicken nuggets so i would stop whining. and when i was chubbier then other kids, instead of herself trying to fix my diet by actually cooking healthy food and making me eat it, she made me see a doctor and go to group sessions of other kids in similar situations (that i was very uncomfortable going to, to the point of me crying, but she forced me to go anyway). which none of that helped anyway, it just made me self conscious about eating so i now hate food and when i do eat in public, i feel gross and that people are staring at me. and now my body has tricked itself that if i’m out in public, i can only eat very little or else i get sick and throw up. and my mental illness could be in check if my parents just put in any effort. they’ve been aware of my depression since i was in 3rd grade (which my mom would phrase as “you don’t seem as happy anymore”) and i recall having anxiety since kindergarten. i get that we didn’t have a lot of money when i was growing up, so maybe they just made me see the guidance counselor every friday for two school years. which is fine, that’s what they could do and it was at least something idk. but after that it’s like they stopped caring. i went on to public school after that and i hated it. i constantly would go to the nurses office in 5th grade and pretend being sick so my mom could pick me up or some how get me home. that should have been a red flag. or whenever my dad asked me how my day was and i never said “good”, another red flag. i was so depressed for the rest of my time in public school, and they didn’t do anything. sure i would join clubs or play sports to try to make myself happy and have fun, but it wasn’t ever enough. high school was even worse. i was angry all the time. just that angry emo kid sat in the back of the class. and eventually i lost almost all my friends. i started cutting, but i kept it hidden until i got changed after gym class one day. someone i was kinda friends with spotted the cuts on my upper arm. they gave me a knowing look and asked what happened. i said my dog scratched me. but it was way too many cuts and too dark to be dog scratches. but they didn’t ask again and i was grateful because i didn’t want help at the time. rest of school went on, the cutting stopped (or at least stopped being as frequent. relapses now and again), had panic attacks before and during school (that i always seemed like a burden for having when my mom had to deal with it), then i had a manipulative friend/ex gf i’m not even going to get into rn. long section short, my parents knew i was struggling. they would mention it off handedly. “you didn’t seem as happy” “we saw their was something going on” stuff like that. but they did nothing to help me. never asked questions, never talked to me, never asked if i needed help or someone else to talk to.

after highschool the panic attacks weren’t as frequent, but the depression was there. and they knew it. because even now and then i would bring it up, especially when i was having a breakdown. i would tell them i need help, i need a therapist and i need medication. she said (because it was always my mom i would go to) that she would see what she could do. then nothing happened. another time, full break down, and i fully told her i am suffering and i need help. she made me feel like such a burden and an inconvenience. she said she had no idea how to get me a therapist. no idea where to start. so i told her, mainly yelled, to ask this one lady we know (someone who had actually done more for my mental health than my own mother) for advice because i know her two kids go to therapy and stuff. she said she would try but she never did. few weeks ago, i have the biggest panic attack i’ve had in a while. full hyperventilating, almost going to throw up, all because there was a bug in my room trapped under a bowl. that is not healthy. i’m sobbing and gasping for air as my dad is trying to get the fast bug off the floor but not lose it, and once it’s gone i’m in bed sobbing and heaving and my whole body is twitching uncontrollably. she thinks she’s hot shit because she did that “5 things you can touch” bull shit once i was starting to calm. nothing again after that. what they did, they bought a hand vacuum so i could catch bugs myself. i guess so i won’t have to bother them at 4 in the morning and again freaking the fuck out. all in all, if they got me therapy as a teen and i had meds, i probably would be much much much better off. i won’t even go into the trans stuff rn. i think they think it went away because they ignored it and i don’t talk about it with them. even tho in the rest of the world away from family, i go by my chosen name and my friend calls me “he”. but it’s been almost 4 years, if not already 5 years, since i came out to them. they said they looked up therapy and stuff but again, nothing ever happened. i joke with my parents and say they’re lucky i don’t steal my dogs prozac and they laugh. i know it’s exactly the one used for people because it’s the same exact one my ex took. these days i’m starting to see things out of the corner of my eye, but nothing is there. i tell my mom i think i have adhd or something because i’ve read symptoms and it would make sense. and i also don’t remember a time where my head wouldn’t just be quiet. even now. it never is. but she says i was tested and they didn’t say i had adhd. when i was 7... and it’s misdiagnosed in afab people... and especially since i was anxious as a child.. and nervous around the lady who tested me. when. i. was. 7. shit develops later in life. but she won’t believe me because she says she’s trained to see the signs for her work. but then she’ll bring up how my uncle, grandma, and dad, are like the poster kids for adhd. and she just won’t believe me.

i’m really struggling with just everything. and i feel guilty that i’m even struggling and “feeling bad”. i’m a white kid from the philly suburbs. everything could be much much worse for me. but then again, i know thinking like this isn’t good for me. just because it could be worse, doesn’t mean it still can’t be a hell of a lot better too. i just want to be okay. i want to be healthy and happy. i’ve never really gotten to experience it all. my happiness seems fake and it fades away. my idea of health is “going to the gym and the right amount of anorexia.” i know that’s not healthy but that’s just the only way i know. my mom doesn’t seem to care anyway. i tell her that when i am working or i was in school, i would only have like one meal a day. she didn’t say a thing. i just want to be happy. i don’t want to die. i really don’t. i hate being alive but like, i’m already here. i’m not going to take myself out. but it’s just so hard to exist a lot of the time. idk how i’ve done it this long. and i can tell it’s gonna get bad again because i tried to cut myself a few nights ago. the knife wasn’t sharp enough to really make a mark but i had no energy to keep trying. i really need help but idk what to do anymore.

[artificialqueens]

drawing new lines, chapter seven (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: So…normally I’m a bit more on the ball with submitting to aq. Oops? This is chapter seven, but here’s the link to all the chapters in between. Most of you have been reading this story on ao3, too, so thank you so, so much for all the love and support for this fic. I appreciate every single message and they make me so happy. So, thank you. As usual, Writ continues to be the best beta and friend one could ask for.

(read on ao3) | word count: 3730 | tumblr: plastiquetiaras

“Here.” A’keria slams the burrito bowl down in front of Vanessa, and she can’t help but let out a delighted squeak.

“God, I could get used to not having to pack my lunch. This month is gonna be lit.”

“Don’t get too used to it.” A’keria snorts as she mixes up her own bowl. “It’s only for a month, as the bet specified.”

“Hey, I don’t care.” Vanessa’s voice is muffled as she tries to talk with a spoonful of the sweet, sweet rice, salsa, beans, chicken and vegetables in her mouth, but it’s hard. “Imma enjoy it.”

“Good, cause you earned it. Top ten things in my life that I didn’t need to see - you and Brooke practically fucking on the dance floor. Nasty hoes.” A’keria makes a face, and Vanessa grins right back at her while Silky snickers.

“You just jealous you ain’t got a blonde skyscraper on your arm.” Part of Vanessa still can’t believe it, really. That Brooke’s willing to do this with her. Not that she’s complaining in the least.

A’keria flips her hair over her shoulder. “I got my man, that’s all I need.”

“He’d rock a blond look though, I ain’t gonna lie.” Silky’s statement makes Vanessa pause, try to picture it.

“You’re right Silk, he totally would.”

“Enough about my non blond man.” A’keria takes another bite of her own burrito bowl before handing it to Silky to share. “What do you want for tomorrow’s lunch?”

Vanessa has to stop herself from practically rubbing her hands together with glee. “Lord almighty, I did not realize how great having my food brought to me would be. Pizza? Poutine? Gimme that unhealthy shit.”

Silky lets out a whistle. “Damn Vanj, you ain’t gonna try and look good for your girl?”

“It’s called happy relationship weight. Imma get it, cause I’m happy. And in a relationship, and she thinks I look good anyway.” As if Vanessa actually is in one. But hey, why not? She’s allowed to enjoy poutine.

“Brooke looks like she can lift you up with one hand, anyway.” A’keria’s tone is almost envious. Which is understandably, really, because her boyfriend is on the scrawny side.

“Damn, I should get her to try that. Do you think she would?” Vanessa remembers when she’d been dating Kameron, who’d brought her to the gym often. Kameron had picked her up once  and done squats at the same time, and Vanessa would be lying if she said it hadn’t been fucking hot.

“You know her better than we do, Vanj. If she’d let you be a human barbell, go for it.” Silky shrugs. “I ain’t getting anyone to lift me anytime soon.”

“Imma go find her. Share some of this burrito bowl, ‘cause it’s technically her victory, too. Not that she knows about the bet.” Vanessa stands up, packing the burrito bowl up once more. It’s a bold faced lie, because Brooke does know, though Silky and A’keria don’t need to know that.

Brooke’s on the phone in her office when Vanessa pops by, the fingers of one of her hands pressing against her temple. She looks up, gives a small smile before turning back to the papers on her desk and ripping the person on the other end of the line a new one.

“No, we can’t use the support beams from the other manufacturer. I don’t care if it’s going to lower costs - it’s not going to matter if the structures collapse in five years because of faulty material and we’re the ones who get sued. So, save it.”

Vanessa plops down in the seat across from Brooke’s desk as quietly as she can, her eyes transfixed on Brooke. It’s kinda hot - Brooke yelling at someone on the other end of the line while completely maintaining composure. Not that Vanessa would ever admit it to her.

“You need to liaise with the first company again, because they’re the ones that have been working well this whole time. I need the estimate from them by tomorrow.” With that, Brooke slams the phone down, letting out a sigh. She shoots a small smile towards Vanessa. “Hey.”

Vanessa holds up the bowl. “Brought you some lunch, ‘cause I know your overworked ass ain’t eating.”

“I had a protein bar-”

“Rabbit food doesn’t count.” Vanessa pulls out the extra set of cutlery, lays it out for Brooke. She’s already had enough of the bowl, and Brooke looks tired enough that she needs as much as she can get.

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t rabbit food supposed to be what people call vegetables?”

“You telling me any sane human is gonna eat a protein bar for sustenance?” Vanessa can’t even picture having them on the regular, so tasteless and quite unlike the chewy bars of her childhood.

“Are you calling me nuts?” Brooke’s finally smiling, and it makes Vanessa’s heart grow when she sees it. She hates seeing how tired Brooke’s job makes her.

“Remember, you took us to a spin class for a date.” Of course, Vanessa had enjoyed the shit out of it, but she’s not gonna mention that to Brooke.

“I distinctly remember you having a great time.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you eat half of this already?” Brooke holds back a laugh when she takes her first spoonful, looking down at the already picked-over bowl.

“Hey, I was hungry.” Vanessa shrugs. “Plus, this is the start of the free food A’keria is giving me for the bet. Figured I’d share it with my partner in crime.”

“Well, that was very sweet of you.” Brooke’s voice is muffled by her bite, and the contrast is adorable from her blazer and the smell of her expensive perfume.

Brooke’s an enigma, a person with so many facets that Vanessa is relishing in the chance to discover. The fact that Brooke’s willing to open up to her more and more is Vanessa’s favourite part of the bet, mostly because she’s an open book herself. Because what people see with her is what they get.

“Gotta make sure you don’t waste away on me while yelling at your minions.” Vanessa snickers when Brooke makes a face at her.

“They’re not minions. Just people who should know how to do their jobs.” Brooke sighs, gathering the papers on her desk and pushing them to the side. “Don’t go into management. The title isn’t worth it.”

“Can you imagine me trying to get people to do shit? It would be a whole lotta yelling.” Vanessa tries to picture herself at a desk like Brooke’s, having to spearhead projects and be responsible for them. At least she’d get to wear a power suit.

“You’d be good at it, though. You have charisma, the kind that most people don’t and the kind that can’t be bought.” Brooke takes another bite of the bowl. “Dang, this is good.”

Vanessa raises a skeptical brow. “What do you mean, charisma?” She’s just her natural dumbass self, which pays off sometimes.

“I mean, you convinced me to fake date you thirty or so seconds after introducing yourself. I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

Vanessa snickers as she leans back in her seat, resisting the urge to lift her feet up onto the chair. “True.”

It’s funny to think back to that day months ago, when Vanessa had barged into Brooke’s office, convinced she’d be able to get her to agree with no evidence to back her up aside from sheer dumb confidence. Though it had worked by some miracle, something that still surprises Vanessa every now and then - and she’s sure that it’s the same for Brooke, too.

Brooke lets out a contented sigh when she finishes the bowl, pushing it away from her on the desk. “So, are you going to share all of your lunches with me from now on?”

Vanessa doesn’t miss a beat. “Why, Miss Hytes, are you asking me to lunch for the next twenty nine days?”

Brooke rolls her eyes, but grins nonetheless. “Only if the food is good.”

“You can bet on that.”

Brooke really, really doesn’t want to go out.

It’s a Friday, she’s had a long week. Really, all she wants to do is curl up on the couch with her cats.

But Nina’s birthday only comes once a year, and she’s a good friend, and so she has to choose a dress from her closet even though pyjamas sound like an infinitely comfier option right now.

The buzzing from her phone on her bed distracts her from her closet dilemma, and so she hangs the dresses in her arms back up in favour of checking her texts.

VVM: Kahanna is singing along to the radio

VVM: AND RILEY IS DUETING WITH HER

VVM: we bout to get complaints from the neighbours at any moment but this shit is hilarious

BLH: Omg. Send me a video

The resulting video from Vanessa makes Brooke crack up, because Riley’s spinning around and howling in the same key as Kahanna is singing. The best part of the video though, is the shaky quality of it, because Vanessa seems to be giggling too hard while filming to hold the camera straight.

BLH: These two need Grammys

VVM: RIGHT! IM SAYIN

VVM: I wanna join in but I’m afraid of ruining it

VVM: anyways how’s your evening going, blondie?

BLH: Trying to choose an outfit. Nina’s birthday and she wants to go clubbing, as if we’re not too old.

VVM: speak for yourself, grandma, some of us are still young

VVM: that being said, you’re not too old for clubbing at all

VVM: show me some of those outfits

BLH: Like, take pictures of them?

VVM: yeah

VVM: better yet, facetime me

It seems like as good of an option as any. Maybe Vanessa can help her decide.

Vanessa picks up the call on the first ring, Riley’s singing reverberating loud and clear in the background. “Hold up, lemme go to my room and close the door. These opera singers be too fucking loud.”

Brooke watches as Vanessa falls back onto her bed, her hair fanning out all around her. “There. Much more comfy. Now, show me some outfit options.”

“Let me prop my phone up on my dresser, hold on.” Brooke leans it carefully so that she can get a clear, hands free shot of herself, and gives a little wave to the camera.

Vanessa giggles on the other end of the line. “Hi to you too, you dork.”

“Okay, help me decide, I’m stuck. Mostly ‘cause I don’t wanna go.” Brooke pulls out a couple dresses and lays them on her bed. “I guess I’ll just hold them up one at a time, or something?”

“Nuh uh. You gotta try them on, give me the full fantasy.”  Vanessa snuggles further into her pillows on screen, and it makes Brooke raise an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Fine.” Maybe it’ll be fun, help Brooke decide a little better.

She pulls out a blazer dress, steps out of the frame to try it on. When she comes back, Vanessa is nodding appreciatively.

“Okay, I could get into this. Suits you.”

“Yeah?” Brooke faces the screen, turns a little so she can see her back. “I dunno if I wanna wear long sleeves tonight, though.”

“Clubs do get warm.” Vanessa shrugs. “What other options you got?”

“How about this?” Brooke steps back in front of the screen after shimmying into her knee length, floral form fitting dress, one which she doesn’t pull out often because of how long it takes to take off when she has to pee. But it feels like a good option.

“Woah.” Brooke’s almost not sure if she hears the words or not, but Vanessa’s eyes are wide as she shuffles closer to the screen, and Brooke has to bite back a smirk.

“Yeah?” Brooke puts her hands on her waist, turns slightly so that Vanessa can see what it looks like from the back. She knows what she’s doing.

It works, from the way Vanessa gulps.

Brooke knows that the two of them have chemistry. She hasn’t forgotten the holiday party, hasn’t forgotten the way it felt to have Vanessa gasping into her mouth. The way Vanessa had pulled her closer, the way Brooke hadn’t stopped wanting to kiss her, either.

Well. They’re not actually together. But it’s nice to know she has chemistry with her fake girlfriend, at least. Sells the fantasy.

Because that’s what this is about - being believable.

That’s it.

Right?

The club is a lot more boring to Brooke when she doesn’t feel like dancing with anyone.

It’s too sweaty, that’s why. The club feels like it’s a million degrees, and adding dancing to the mix will only make it worse. Heck, Brooke’s sitting at the bar in front of a fan that is directly blowing cool air at her, and she’s still sweating like crazy.

That’s why she doesn’t want to dance.

All of Brooke’s friends are on the dance floor with their respective partners - save for Courtney, who’s found a girl for herself to make out with in the corner of the club. Brooke can’t help but feel…bored. Why dance anyway, when it’s too warm and sweaty and crowded? Why talk up a girl when-

When she has Vanessa?

Technically, Brooke doesn’t have Vanessa. They’re not dating. She has to remember that.

But they did sign a contract together, saying that they won’t mess around with others while doing this. Yes, that’s why Brooke is staying away from chatting up nearby girls. Because she has a commitment to keep. Not that she really wants to talk to other girls in the first place. But her gin and tonic is nearly done and she needs another if she’s going to be at this bar for any longer, so she signals to the bartender and opens up her phone while she waits.

BLH: Help, the club is boring

BLH: I’m wasting away at the bar

VVM: omg

VVM: go dance, you’re at a club

BLH: I don’t wanna

BLH: Stinky guys

VVM: stinky, huh?

BLH: You need to spray your perfume on them. You smell so much better

VVM: weird compliment, but I’ll take it

VVM: we should go out dancing. I’d give you such a better time

BLH: Would you, now?

VVM: you know it, blondie

VVM: let’s do that for another date

Brooke is reminded of the holiday party, of how they’d danced pressed up against one another and how it was fucking hot. The chance to do something like that again with Vanessa? She’ll take it.

BLH: You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of me

VVM: you say that as if you’d be able to keep yours off of me

VVM: I know how much you love grabbing my ass

VVM: not that I’m complaining about it

Brooke smirks at her phone screen. She remembers how Vanessa had keened into her touch, spurred her on to keep going with little gasps into the crook of her neck. Dating or not dating, Brooke loves how easy Vanessa has been to take apart. She wants to do it again.

BLH: Interesting. Noted.

It’s funny. When she and Vanessa had signed their list, they had agreed on light PDA only. But there’s a part of Brooke that wants more more more, that wants Vanessa on her arm and wants everyone to know it. That Vanessa’s hers, that she’s the one who gets to take Vanessa home every night.

Brooke almost wishes that those things were actually true.

“C’mon, Nina. There you go, come on out of the Uber. Small steps, don’t slip on the ice.” Brooke wraps one of her arms around Nina’s waist, holds her up as they head to Nina’s apartment.

“Ugh. It’s too cold.” Nina leans her head on Brooke’s shoulder, and Brooke reaches out to pat her hair.

“Almost inside. You got your keys?”

Nina fiddles in her pockets for a good thirty seconds before pulling them out, holding them towards Brooke. “Please?”

“I got you.”

Brooke is usually the supportive friend in situations like these for Detox, helping her get home in one piece after she’s had too much to drink. Nina’s not usually the one to need it, but Brooke had found her in the club bathroom leaning against the mirror and sniffling about her fiancé. Considering the fact that they’d gone out for Nina’s birthday in the first place? Brooke had felt her duty calling.

“I don’t feel so well. That car ride was fast.” Nina rubs at her eyes as Brooke tries to get her coat off, pushing it off her shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Bathroom first, then.”

Nina sighs, resting her head against the lid of the toilet after sitting down on the ground. The scene feels reminiscent of Brooke’s undergraduate days, when she’d partied too much and absolutely did some damage to her poor liver. She pulls Nina’s hair back, has to keep her nose from wrinkling when Nina lets out a retch.

“Thanks, B.” Nina sighs when she lifts her head up, only to turn back towards the toilet to throw up again.

Brooke’s definitely been there before.

“No worries. It’ll feel better when it’s out of your system, anyway.” Brooke rubs her back, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible because she knows Nina’s probably got a pounding headache, too. “Now, tell me. What made you drink so much today and end up crying by yourself on your birthday?”

Brooke’s surprised by it, really. Nina’s usually the one who takes care of everyone else like its second nature, because she has a high tolerance herself. Which means that to reach this current point tonight, she’s probably had a lot to drink. Which also means that something has to have really rattled her to get her here, bent over the toilet and looking slightly green.

“It doesn’t matter.” Nina mumbles the words, looking down, and Brooke puts a hand on her shoulder, gives her a little squeeze.

“Course it does. You can talk to me.”

Nina finally, finally looks at her, and Brooke can see the dimmed sparkle in her eyes, the sadness along her features. No, not sadness - more defeat.

“Am I making a mistake, Brooke? Marrying Ben?”

Booke pulls back in surprise. “What? What do you mean?”

Brooke has multiple friends that are in long term relationships and Nina’s, by far, always has looked the steadiest. The most wholesome. Nina never shuts up about her fiancé, telling Brooke all the time about the picnics he takes her on or the gifts he gets her or how they’re absolutely soulmates. Nina’s always looked happy, truly happy with her man, something that Brooke has loved to see, because Nina’s the kind of person who believes in true love. In a happily ever after. And, up until this moment, Brooke has believed that Nina’s been living exactly how she’s always dreamed of.

But what if she hasn’t?

“It’s just-it’s good. But it’s also just good, y’know? He brings me flowers and always opens doors for me and snuggles me at night but…” Nina lifts her head, looks at Brooke, and her face is more lost than Brooke has ever seen it. “I don’t feel anything else with him. Like, it’s happy, it’s good, he’s good, but-”

Nina cuts herself off, takes a deep breath as she lifts her left hand up, holds it out in front of them. The sparkling bling on her ring finger reflects sparkles along the bathroom tiles and walls, ones that make Nina wince when they shine on her face.

“I just don’t know. I’m not feeling what I’m supposed to feel, y’know?” Nina sits back, scooches away from the toilet to lean against the wall.

Brooke joins her because really, does she have anywhere else to be? She doesn’t know what to do though, not when Nina’s looking so forlorn and lost and all Brooke wants is be there for her, somehow, even though she’s never felt the way Nina is feeling right now.

So Brooke leans her head on Nina’s shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of Nina leaning her head against hers, too. “I dunno, babe. I wish I could tell you I had the answer, or how to make things magical, but I have none of those answers. All I know is that you deserve to be happy. You deserve the ending that you’ve always wanted. I think you need to first figure out exactly what that is.”

Nina sighs, twisting her ring on her finger. “I have no idea what that is.”

“No need to decide on your birthday with a tipsy brain. It can wait.” Brooke unfolds herself from the ground, gets herself up before holding her hands out to Nina so that she can help her up, too.

“C’mon. Let’s get you into bed.”

The conversation replays in her mind, though, as she Ubers home from Nina’s. It makes no sense - how has Nina lost that spark with her fiancé, when they’ve always looked so stable? Did Nina ever really have it in the first place? Or did she just think she did? Was the way Nina had felt in the bathroom just cold feet, or was it something bigger?

And then there’s that spark Nina had talked about in the first place. Brooke tries to picture what it would feel like, what the concept of sparks flying actually even means. Fireworks and butterflies and falling head over heels? Hell, Brooke feels fireworks when she kisses Vanessa, but it’s only because she’s kissing a pretty girl after ages and ages and fully enjoying it. The concept of sparks flying feels elusive, something that could be searched for forever and ever without ever truly being found. It feels similar to the way that Vanessa’s looking for her true love and Princess Charming, and how she’s absolutely convinced that she’ll know when she finds her.

It feels like everyone has a radar for knowing these kinds of things except for Brooke. Not that Brooke minds, not really. Being in search of something that’ll never be in reach seems fruitless. Unnecessary. Especially when she has other things she’d rather be spending her time on.

Quite frankly? Brooke’s good with just her cats and friendship - especially Vanessa’s.

[carmenlire]

Satiable

Trigger Warning for disordered eating.

read on ao3

He doesn’t notice at first.

He doesn’t notice that he’s subsisting on coffee, that he can’t quite remember the last time he had a real meal. He’s just not hungry and he can’t figure out why his headaches have come back.

When he was a teenager, Alec suffered from terrible, pain in the ass headaches that made him want to collapse into bed where he could cry until he finally fell asleep and get some relief from the pain. It’s a dull ache in the back of his head, a sharp pain in his temples.

It’s been awhile since they’ve been this bad, though Alec doesn’t notice that their intensity-- and frequency-- has been ratcheting up. All he knows is that by mid afternoon he can hardly focus. He takes a deep breath and as his lungs expand, he feels a quiet easing of the bands that seem to tighten around his chest a little more with each day that passes. It’s a temporary relief from slogging through paperwork and approving expense reports but it keeps him from screaming.

Sighing heavily in the quiet of his office, Alec tosses his pen onto the blotter and brings a hand up until he can press fingers into his temples hard enough so that the blunt pain can drown out his headache for a brief, blissful moment.

Glancing at the clock, Alec sees that it’s almost six. Shadowhunters should be coming down to ops soon for their assignments and Alec’s glad that he gave Jace that responsibility a couple of months ago. He doesn’t know if he could leave the sanctity of his office right now and go into the control center where everyone would be talking, eager and ready to head off on patrol as their runes kicked in for the night.

The very thought of the controlled chaos makes his head pound a little more viciously.

Shaking his head a little, Alec works another hour or so until he deems the day done. He still has a thousand things that will be waiting for his attention in the morning-- and he knows a thousand more will drop in his lap overnight, no doubt-- but he’s done all he can for today.

Standing, Alec feels himself sway a little in his spot. Blinking, he frowns and reaches for the mostly empty mug of coffee that’s never far from his elbow. He takes a last swig and while it’s gone cold and more than a little gross, his shoulders lose some of their tension.

Reaching behind him, Alec shrugs into his coat and pockets his phone and stele. He’s out the door a minute later and manages to avoid everyone on his way out. Fall is sneakily fading into winter and Alec huddles a little tighter into his coat.

Magnus is out of town for a few days, tending to a werewolf pack illness in Dubai, so it’s just him as he swings the door open to their loft.

Alec briefly debates making dinner-- maybe heating a can of soup up or scrounging for some cheese and crackers-- but just the thought is exhausting. As he goes to walk past the kitchen, however, he abruptly stops as he realizes that the only thing he’s had today is six cups of coffee.

Suddenly, he’s starving and with a sigh, he enters the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge. Opening it, his head throbs as the fluorescent light pierces into his skull.

He’s not seeing a lot of options. He’s definitely not in the mood to cook and Alec briefly wishes that he’d had this realization just ten minutes before. He could’ve stopped by the pizza joint down the block or ordered takeout from the Thai place halfway between here and the Institute. Undoubtedly unhealthy but he needs calories and he's too tired to worry about their quality. He figures something is better than nothing.

Now, if he could just find something that wasn't too damned exhausting to prepare, something he wouldn't need to wait an hour for. He wants his bed so fucking bad he feels his eyes burning.

He’s just about to give up altogether when a deep blue Tupperware container catches his eye on the bottom shelf. Leaning down-- and that feels like so much goddamn effort-- just a little, he slides the box out enough to see a bright pink post-it on top.

This is for you, darling. I shudder to think what’s passed for a meal since I left you a few days ago. Before you collapse into bed, I want you to eat this entire bowl.

Love, Mr. Lightwood-Bane

Huffing out a laugh, Alec wonders idly that Magnus knows him too well. He hadn’t looked in the fridge in a few days but he’s filled with a quiet wave of warmth at Magnus taking the time to prepare-- or summon, for Alec’s not quite romantic enough to think that Magnus toiled away over this pasta when he wasn’t looking-- dinner while he was away. It's well known that Alec gets tunnel vision when he's at work. Magnus is used to Alec coming home and devouring the whole fucking kitchen once he's out of the Institute and breathign fresh air.

Alec tries to tamp down on the guilt that Magnus doesn't know that that's not what this is lately. It's not enough to be cause for concern, he tells himself and ignores it when the thought strikes hollow.

The pasta-- chicken fettuccine, his favorite-- warms up perfectly in the microwave. It’s delicious, even if Alec barely manages to eat half of the container before he’s too full to continue.

Figuring he’ll have leftovers tomorrow, he pours a glass of tap water and downs it while standing in front of the sink. Placing the empty glass next to the fork he’d used, Alec runs a hand through his hair before giving the room a once over and stepping out to the hallway, turning the lights off as he goes.

Pulling his shirt over his head and pushing his pants down until they pool on the floor next to his side of the bed, Alec slides between cool sheets and sighs into his pillow.

The weight of the day sloughs off him and he closes his burning eyes, finding almost immediate relief from the headache that’s held him in a vise grip for most of the day.

Sinking into the sheets, he falls asleep quick, pulling Magnus’s pillow to his chest and breathing in the scent of his husband’s shampoo.

--

The weeks blend together and Alec feels like his whole goddamn life is a never ending dumpster fire.

Well, that’s not quite true but he’s overwhelmed and stressed to the max and if Jace asks for special permission for a dumbass mission one more time, Alec won’t be responsible for his reaction.

His vision blurs as he reads over a request from the Clave that’s as subtle as a fucking grenade asking for his expertise to calm rising downworld tensions in St. Petersburg. Their flattery falls flat and Alec’s well aware that he’ll be portaling his ass to Russia by week’s end to deal with shadowhunters who will need to be brought to heel quickly and with as little bloodshed as possible.

That’s a headache for future Alec, though, he thinks with a grimace.

Reaching for the last bite of his pain au chocolat that he’d picked up along with his quad latte this morning, Alec barely tastes the damned thing. He figures it’s more than enough to get him through a day that’s busting with meetings and reaches for his coffee to wash it down only to scowl when the to go cup is unforgivably light.

There’s not a drop left and Alec growls a little-- there’s no one around to hear his irritation, at least-- as he stands, rounding his desk to head to the canteen, hoping to hell that someone’s bought more hazelnut k-cups since they were out last week.

Thankfully, Izzy is the only one there when he arrives and she bites into her sandwich as he grunts at her, the bare minimum greeting she’ll take and the most he can summon the energy to give.

“Rough day,” she asks dryly, reaching onto her plate for a cheddar and sour cream chip.

“Everything’s a pain in my ass,” Alec replies roughly. “If I have to hear another recruit talk back I’m putting them on ichor duty for the rest of the goddamn decade.”

Rasing a brow, Isabelle doesn’t say anything. She just watches him as she makes her steady way through lunch.

Alec opens one of the cabinets and breathes a quiet yet fervent sigh of relief when he sees the red box, almost three quarters full of his favorite k-cups. Placing his mug under the drip, Alec fires the Keurig up and selects the biggest size, tapping the button for strong before hitting start.

Almost immediately, the fresh smell of brewing coffee hits the air and his shoulders relax. It’s like coming home. It’s a brief respite and Alec inhales the notes of hazelnut and beans and prays that his headache stays away until after he has a chance to peak into the new recruits' training.

He’s just reaching for the almond milk in the refrigerator when Izzy asks, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I had a croissant this morning,” Alec says absently.

“And before that?”

Alec’s quiet for a moment as he tries to remember. There was that granola bar he’d forced down last night as he’d been reading over a treatise draft. Frowning a little, Alec can’t remember anything else that he’d eaten yesterday and shit if he can remember the day before that.

He’s too busy to eat, he thinks with a frown. He’s never hungry in the mornings and by the time he gets to the Institute, he’s too busy to take a break. Most nights, he’s so damned tired that he takes a few mechanic bites of food before going to bed, just to wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

His plate is full to bursting and eating is as low a priority as he can have right now. There’s a little voice, though, that tries to slither its way through his head.

It’s not that he likes not eating. It’s not that it makes him the tiniest bit happy when he’s realized that he’s managed to go sixteen-- or twenty four or thirty six-- hours without anything but coffee to serve as a meal.

It’s something he can control. He can ignore his hunger pains through sheer force of will, even if nausea sweeps through him occasionally and he has to close his eyes to regain his equilibrium.

It’s something that’s plagued him off and on since he was in the Academy. When Alec was stressed-- when he was tired and the only thing he felt he could control was his eating-- his appetite vanished. It’s nothing unusual and Alec knows that in a few days, a few weeks, he’ll feel better one morning. Waking up won’t be so exhausting and he’ll go over to the East Village and have the best bacon burger in the city with an extra large fry and Oreo milkshake. Everything will go back to how it’s supposed to be and Alec won’t have to wonder when his last meal was, won’t feel his sister’s piercing eyes over a bag of Ruffles potato chips.

He doesn’t answer her and Iz doesn’t push. He pours a healthy dollop of milk into his coffee and leaves, resigned to going back to his office and getting through the day’s work.

Distantly, he wonders if he’ll have time to sneak in a quick training session before he calls it a day. He feels light and there’s an energy that’s simmering low in his gut that he knows from past experience just needs an outlet. Blowing across his coffee, Alec takes a slow, deep sip and wonders if he could persuade Jace to a sparring match tonight.

--

The next morning, Alec wakes up to a long line of warmth along his back. Sinking into the sheets, his breath catches at the dull throbbing in his ankle. He’d used an iratze after sparring Jace last night and he’s pissed that his ankle still feels off. Deciding to deal with it later, Alec relaxes further against Magnus and his eyes fall shut as he feels his husband nose along his spine.

He lets himself be urged onto his back and stares up at a sleep-rumpled Magnus. It’s a vision that still makes his heart ache in the best damn way, no matter that they’ve been together for a few years now.

Magnus studies him in the low light and Alec closes his eyes again as Magnus leans forward and nibbles across his collarbone, along his deflect rune.

“What do you say to waffles this morning, Alexander?” Magnus’s voice is a low rasp and Alec smiles a little even if words get stuck in his throat.

As though he knows Alec’s thinking, Magnus raises his head and studies him carefully. The intensity in his unglamoured eyes is a little unnerving.

Running a thumb over a stubbled jaw, Magnus smiles. “What do you say? Surely the Institute can wait a couple of hours.”

While there’s a part of Alec that’s uneasy-- while Magnus could be coy when needed, with Alec his attempts at subterfuge had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer-- Alec knows that Magnus has realized that his appetite has been damn near nonexistent lately.

Resigned, Alec thinks that he wouldn’t be surprised if his husband knew about his over-training. Alec’s not dumb. He might be pissed off but his ankle is screaming and the only reason that ever happens after applying an iratze is because his energy stores are too low.

Things have finally come to a head and while he still feels like he’s in a fog most days, he knows that something had to give sooner or later.

“Sure,” he replies hoarsely. “Let’s have waffles for breakfast.”

Magnus’s gaze eases just a tad even as the gold warms. He leans down and kisses Alec.

“Right answer, darling.”

The two of them get ready slowly, showering together, lingering under the warm spray. Magnus catches Alec’s wince when he forgets not to put his full weight on his left foot and his eyes sharpen.

He doesn’t say anything though, merely lowering until he’s kneeling on the marble of their shower, reaching a hand out to wrap it around Alec’s ankle. Alec watches as azure flows into his skin and the relief is immediate.

Magnus kisses the delicate bone of his ankle before lowering his foot back to the ground and stands, pulling Alec closer with arms around his middle.

They stand there for long minutes and Alec feels warmth that’s been missing for longer than he wants to admit.

He’s finally hungry. Not starving, not ravenous. But he can admit that he’s craving food.

It’s the breaking of the dam. It’s a start.

Alec knows the next few hours won't be easy but Magnus hasn't stopped looking at him, warm and open, and suddenly he's tired of hiding from his husband.

It feels like the quietest of snicks as the puzzle pieces align. Maybe, he wonders, if he felt guilty about keeping something from his husband then it was time to come clean.

He breathes easier at just the idea.

[alphacrone]

au zimbits meetcute - hot guy at the grocery store

CW: vague mentions of body insecurity and fat shaming, abuse of energy drinks, college typical sleep deprivation Note: i love chubby non-hockey jack a LOT. also i miss cheetos a lot and would kill a man to be able to eat them again. not even exaggerating honestly. 

Today was the worst possible day for Jack to run into Hot Guy at the store, so of course he ran into Hot Guy at the store. The universe hated him.

Jack and Hot Guy had similar schedules, it seemed: they both did their grocery shopping on Thursday evenings, they both got munchies on Sunday afternoons, and sometimes they even ran into each other doing beer runs on the weekend. Hot Guy appeared to be a Samwell student, as well, given his SMH hoodie -- and Christ did hockey follow him everywhere -- and always smiled kindly at Jack when they bumped into each other, sometimes chatting for a minute or two in his cute-as-fuck southern accent before scurrying off to the baking section. Jack had yet to learn his name, but he knew he was getting pathetic when he started looking forward to his grocery store trips.

But today was not a good day for Jack to be seen by the hottest guy in the neighborhood. They were deep into finals, and Jack was totally rewriting a good chunk of his thesis and this draft was possibly due tomorrow and the neighbors kept arguing and Jack was running on about two hours of sleep and-

Everything was terrible. Even Hot Guy couldn’t make that better, especially since he was now looking at Jack with his stress-eating-belly and anxiety-induced breakout and what Parse had once dubbed his Super Tired Murder Eyes. Jack looked horrible and Hot Guy was fucking killing it in his tight sweatpants and oversized Sabres hoodie -- something he’d probably stolen from his boyfriend because he was hot and nice and definitely couldn’t be single at all or even interested in a huge mess like Jack.

Grunting to himself, Jack reached for a pack of Five Hour Energy and hoped it wouldn’t kill him. He didn’t have time to worry about Hot Guy, had too much to get done.

“Oh, Lord, that stuff messes with my head.”

To Jack’s horror, Hot Guy had approached him and was pointing at the energy drinks in his hand. “Euh,” was his eloquent response.

“I get all shaky and hot when I drink more than half a shot of those things,” Hot Guy continued, his own basket laden down with a disturbing amount of unsalted butter. “‘Course, that’s usually after several espressos and an Americano or two, so maybe I shouldn’t tempt fate like that.”

Jack’s lips quirked at the edges as Hot Guy pronounced it “express-o.” Despite himself and his nasty appearance -- when was the last time he’d showered? -- Jack was really happy to see Hot Guy.

“That’s a lot of butter,” Jack commented, struggling to keep the conversation going. Hot Guy looked down ashamedly.

“Yeah, I know, I just- I stress bake, you know? Probably an unhealthy amount, but at least it fuels the boys in their studying and no one has to trek out to the dining hall and disturb their momentum.”

Jack assumed he was referring to his teammates, and desperately hoped he didn’t mean his multiple handsome boyfriends or something else equally disheartening. “What are you making?”

Hot Guy’s smile came back and Jack ignored the stupid flip in his stomach at the sight. “Well, pie’s my specialty, so I’m going through our sin bin fund and trying to make everybody’s favorite pie before the week is up. Tonight’s menu includes honey peach and chocolate chip pecan.”

Jack held back a smile at the funny way Hot Guy said pecan. He was too cute for words, and Jack so desperately wished they had a class together or that he was on the hockey team, too, or that they knew each other from somewhere other than the grocery store.

“Sounds delicious,” Jack said, fiddling with the Cheetos and Chef Boyardee already loaded into his basket. He loved junk food when he was stressed, but a homemade pie sounded divine right now.

“You should come over for a slice,” Hot Guy said, and Jack looked up to see he was biting his bottom lip nervously. “I mean, if you want. If you’re not too busy. You don’t have to, but we always have plenty of pie- oh! And I’m making Buffalo chicken mac n’ cheese tonight for Holster, he claims it’s the ‘dish of his people’ but I don’t believe that for one second-”

Jack wondered idly if this was the boyfriend whose Buffalo Sabres hoodie Hot Guy wore now. “Oh, uh, that sounds great, but I’m sort of drowning in work tonight and probably shouldn’t…”

“Oh, right, of course,” Hot Guy said quickly, and though Jack wasn’t great with reading other people’s emotions, he thought it would be unusual for a guy with a boyfriend to blush this hard in these circumstances. “I-I just thought- I always see you here and you’re really- I mean, it’s silly, I know it’s silly, but- Do I sound creepy? I’m sorry, you’re not interested, I should just-”

Jack caught Hot Guy’s elbow as he turned to leave, smiling as he realized what was happening. “I turn in a draft of my thesis tomorrow. I still have finals but I’m pretty confident in my abilities...what I’m trying to say is, do you want to get coffee tomorrow? If you’re not too busy?”

Hot Guy looked stunned and nodded slowly, large, warm eyes growing impossibly larger. “That would be nice. Annie’s?”

Jack nodded eagerly. He lived close to Annie’s and liked their smoothies. “They have good chocolatine there.”

Hot guy tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Chocolatine?”

“Pain au chocolat,” Jack clarified.

To his surprise, Hot Guy didn’t politely agree or subtly eye Jack’s chunky gut or make some comment about their healthier options. Instead, he gasped and said, “They do not. I love Annie’s to death but their pastries are an abomination.”

This startled a laugh out of Jack. He’d never met someone who was so passionate about baked goods. “They taste like the kind my dad makes.”

“Then you need to send your father my recipe,” Hot Guy said. “C’mon, let’s grab the fixings for it and I’ll bring you some tomorrow.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Jack protested. “You have your pies already-”

“Uh-uh, mister,” Hot Guy said, pulling Jack by the hand toward the baking aisle. “I do not show up to a first date empty-handed.”

And the thought of that -- of going on a date with Hot Guy -- was honestly too much for him to process on such little sleep. “Wait, wait, hold up.”

Hot Guy turned, cheeks pink again. “Sorry, I just assumed-”

“I don’t know your name.” Jack looked down at their connected hands and swallowed roughly, anxiety bubbling in his gut. “I need to know your name before our date.”

Hot Guy smiled widely and laughed, loud and bright. “Oh, Lord, where are my manners? I’m Bitty. Well, Eric, but all the boys call me Bitty. Hockey,” he clarified with a shrug.

“Nice to meet you, Bitty,” Jack said. “I’m Jack.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I Facebook stalked you,” Bitty admitted, looking down at his shoes. “Pretty much the first day we met.” He looked up, worried. “Is that creepy? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s kind of flattering,” Jack said, moving closer. “I wish I’d thought to Google you.”

“The boys say your dad’s hockey famous or something,” Bitty admitted, still looking unsure. “I don’t really know much about the NHL.” He gestured to his sweatshirt. “I couldn’t name a single player on the Sabres. I stole this from my teammate because all mine are covered in flour and egg.”

Jack felt something warm bubble in his chest. It had been a year or two since he’d been recognized and nobody really talked about him much anymore, but there was always something refreshing in meeting a person who had no clue who he was or who his father had once been. To Bitty, Jack was just the awkward guy he’d liked enough to find on Facebook. He probably thought of him as Tall Guy or Montreal Jack -- Bitty didn’t know the weight of the Zimmermann name at all.

“A hockey player who doesn't watch the NHL? I’m shocked,” Jack chirped, delighting in the sound of Bitty’s laugh again.

“Shush, I get enough grief from my boys, I don’t need it from a hot guy, too.”

Jack paused for a moment, confused, and then leaned down to peck Bitty’s cheek, overcome with emotion in his delicate, sleep-deprived state.

“I’ve really got to run,” Jack said, pulling back. “But tomorrow at 3 or so?”

“3’s perfect,” Bitty said breathlessly, hand creeping up to touch the cheek Jack had kissed.

“Just so you know,” Jack murmured, giving Bitty a quick wink. “I think of you as Hot Guy, too.”

Bitty’s blinding smile followed Jack through the checkout line and back to his apartment, dancing around his head as he blasted through the last bit of his thesis and starring in his dreams as he passed out around dawn, alarm clock set to wake him up in time for his date.

[My writing masterpost (a WIP itself)]

[My online novel]

[honestlywhateverahh]

26.01.

very dark chocolate (200)

1 cucumber (40)

1 orange (80)

protein beef jerkey (80)

frozen banana ft. cinnamon (100)

2 bonbons cuz i'm ill (20)

dried mango stripes (200)

yoghurt rice cake (80)

1 small carrot (20)

820 so far, rounded, it's 3pm and i'm not even hungry, just in a snacking mood ... going for another yoghurt rice cake

2 yoghurt rice cakes (160)

dried mango stripes (100)

protein snack/nuts (180)

so we are at 1260 calories and i also did a workout

as my goal is a lil higher (1600ish) imma go for some dark chocolate now and some more veggies later

if i (like some ppl on here) didn't count calories from fruits/veggies my count would be veery low ... like on some days that's all i eat? and on other days i eat some nuts, fish, bread, dark chocolate and meat but ... still, the bigger part of my intake consists of fruits/veggies and i think that's good, i'm still worrying about calories and obsessively working out most of the time but at least the stuff that i eat is HEALTHY and lately i managed to consume a considerably high amount of calories, my goal is to keep on doing that and hope that the feeling of guilt may pass at some point? i shouldn't gain any weight from what i've been eating lately, might even lose some more fat and build up muscle instead (which is one of the reasons why i include as much protein as possible in my diet), maybe that's gonna help prove my sick thoughts wrong and establish a healthier relationship with food. i'm NOT gonna end up in a hospital EVER, i don't need therapy for this, it's fine. some days i might find myself struggling with eating even just a few grapes, yeah - but this is TEMPORARY, and you know what? i still eat the grapes then. i know that my body needs nutrients. i'm trying to let it heal.

dark chocolate (100)

yoghurt rice cake (80)

1440 so far

1/2 slice of bread with chicken breast (100)

1540 kcals

and i think that's it for today, or should i eat another orange/yoghurt rice cake/chocolate bar to really reach or go past 1600? i mean apart from working out i pretty much just stayed at home today & i didn't move too much so 1500kcals might not be that bad ... oh fuck it imma decide that later, for now im just gonna drink some more water.

update:

grapes (but i didn't fucking count them because fuck you brain, imma guess like 60?)

so thats 1600

but i want dark chocolate

and you know what i'm gonna fucking get some now because i'm tired of this bullshit and also scared of gAiNiNg iT aLl bAcK if i lose weight by restricting AND actually i don't wanna fucking lose so much weight i just wanna put on some muscle and tone up a little more, AS LONG AS I AM NOT CONSTANTLY GONNA OVEREAT I WON'T GAIN, MY BODY NEEDS ENERGY, THE VERY DARK CHOCOLATE I HAVE ISN'T THAT FUCKING UNHEALTHY, I WANNA BE ABLE TO NOT FUCKING WORRY ABOUT CALORIES ALL THE TIME WHEN I GO TO FRANCE IN A FEW MONTHS, CRAVING FOOD MEANS MY BODY NEEDS FOOD AND I FUCKING NEED ENERGY TO EVEN PUT ON MUSCLE so fuck it imma have some chocolate

1700

k that number looks huge

STILL imma eat that chocolate now bye

[lovethesoftkpopbabies]

Fanfic Trade: Part 2

This is the fanfic Roebling made for me in return! This is a fanfic of Himchan from B.A.P with my OC, Su-Siyong so if you don't like OC x Character fics, this one probably isn't for you. ^^ 

 Also please check out roebling's work! The writing is exceptional and I read it on quite a regular basis: 

http://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling 

 Second Helpings and Second Chances 

 by: Roebling 

 Category: F/M 

 Fandom: B.A.P 

 Relationship: Kim Himchan/Original Female Character(s) Su Siyong 

Characters: B.A.P, Original Female Character (Su Siyong) Words: 9187 

Chapters: 1/1 

Summary: Himchan's always had to be careful about his diet, lest he put on weight. After a bad breakup that's entirely his fault, he finds himself comfort eating and getting soft again. As the number on the scale climbs, the way he looks at his body -- and his happiness -- starts to change. 

Notes: For KatsGGM. This is my half of a little exchange I did with KatsGGM, based on her request and featuring her OC Su Siyong :) I really enjoyed writing this, although I know it turned out a bit different than her prompt! This story does not contain sexually explicit material, but it is weight gain fetish fiction. If that is not something that is appealing to you, please hit the back button in your browser! It also features a character who initially has a very unhealthy relationship with his body and weight, and mentions past disordered eating. If anything related to eating, food, or weight is triggering for you, please proceed with caution. If you'd like more information about contents, message me. 

The breakup hits Himchan harder than he expects, considering it's entirely his fault. He knows it, too. Deep down inside, he knows he acted like a selfish, inconsiderate asshole. He’s scum. He isn’t worthy of being ground under Siyong’s shoe. Not to put too fine a point on it.

He realizes right away what a terrible mistake he's made, and what a miserable excuse for a boyfriend he's been. Siyong is amazing, beautiful, talented: too good for him really. He’d been too ashamed to admit they were dating just because he was concerned what some lowlife netizens would say. He misses her, is the thing. He really misses her. He sinks as low as messaging Siyong and asking if they can meet and talk, but she doesn't even reply.

He’s not surprised. She’s right not to respond. He messed up bigtime.

It's understandable he's feeling a little down about himself. It's understandable that he would console himself with nights out with Yongguk (who is always willing to listen to him whine, and doesn't judge him too harshly) and with weekends at his parents' house. It's expected that, newly single, he'd want to have a little bit of fun and take it easy.

What's not expected is when, a month or so after the breakup, he goes to pull on his favorite pair of jeans and realizes he can't do up the button. There's a few centimeters of plush pale belly in the way.

The thing is, Himchan has always gained weight easily. The slightest lapse of diligence puts him at risk of pudging up. When he was an idol, he subsisted on a meager diet of coffee and chicken and got enough exercise that he managed to stay fairly slim. During his army service, he actually gotten into pretty good shape -- even kinda almost had abs -- but he's been out of the army for eighteen months and BAP is on hiatus while the Daehyun and Youngjae do their service, and Himchan is getting soft again.

The scale reveals the scope of the damage. He's back up to 75 kg, which means he's gained a solid five kilos in the last month. That's a lot in such a short period. Standing in his bathroom in only boxer shorts, he is amazed he didn't realize it sooner because it's really obvious. His belly is soft again. His thighs look big. His cheeks are round.

Shit.

It stings all the worse because he knows, deep down, he would have gone public with his relationship with Siyong if she's just you know, been a little bit thinner. A little closer to what society says a beautiful woman should look like. She was beautiful and smart and talented, and he'd been too much of a weasel to stand by her because she was a few kilos heavier than most actresses.

He’d been scared to have his name linked to the ‘chubby actress’ and now he's on the way to being a fatass himself again.

Staring at his puffy-faced reflection in the mirror, he scowls. "You're a hypocrite, Kim Himchan. And you don't deserve her."

The thing is Himchan has always hated dieting. He endured it because he had to during his B.A.P days, but now? He's got a few variety show appearances lined up, a semi-steady gig as the host of a weekly entertainment news program, but he's not an idol anymore, and nobody expects him to go on stage and sing and dance in leather pants.

Thank god. He’s too old for that shit anyway.

So he just ... doesn't diet. It seems like too much work when he’s already feeling so tired. Eating what he likes is a hell of a lot easier than dieting would be. When his sister invites him out for brunch with her family on Saturday morning, he gets fried chicken and biscuits. The chicken is moist and the batter is crispy with a hint of spice. The plate is covered in a generous puddle of greasy, rich gravy. He sops up every drop of it with the buttery biscuits, and then finishes off his little niece's waffle. His sister gives him a look, but she doesn’t say anything. He gets sweet, extravagant drinks at Starbucks in the morning instead of his standard iced coffee with no milk because they just taste better. When out for barbecue with friends, he stops worrying about how many servings he’s had, stops worrying about how much beer he’s drunk. He eats and drinks his fill, until his belly is swollen and aching.

He knows he's overdoing it, but he's spent the last ten years worrying about every calorie that passed his lips. It's really fucking nice to just not worry for a little while. He’ll get back on his diet one of these days.

He's at the KBS building preparing to film a guest spot on a variety program about traditional Korean music. The clothes the stylist picked out for him today are a little snug. The pants are tight around his waist, and the shirt pulls over his round belly. Luckily, he's got a sweater to wear over top that will disguise the most of the damage.

He's got a long time before his segment films. The waiting room is cold and boring. He only had a bagel for breakfast, and he's feeling a little peaky.

"Hey," he says to the PA, "I'm going to run out for a sec. I'll be back, okay?"

She narrows her eyes. "Your call time is at three. You need to be back here by then."

"I know," he says. "I got it! I'm a professional."

She rolls her eyes, like she's heard that line before, and she probably has.

Himchan takes the elevator down and walks out through the big lobby into a cold early spring day. Himchan sticks his hands in the pocket of his coat. He has a destination in mind, and thankfully it's not too far. There's a Burger King just a few blocks away across the park. He walks quickly. The streets are crowded with people on their lunch, and he knows if he's not back at the station by three it's his neck on the line. It's not like he's destitute, by any means, but the extra money he pulls in with these variety gigs helps an awful lot.

The line at the Burger King isn't bad. Himchan is overheated and a little sweaty by the time he gets there. He's never been the most physically fit guy and whatever endurance he built up during his military service has been eroded by months of the easy life. His arm brushes the bulge of his belly ... Well, that can't help either.

He's pretty hungry now, he realizes. He shouldn't have rushed so much this morning. Of course a bagel isn't going to tide him over all day. He stares at the menu as the queue shuffles along. He can't make up his mind between the Creamy Shrimp Whopper and the Garlic Steak burger.

In the end, he orders both.

"Will that be all?" the cashier asks in a bored tone.

"Uh," Himchan says, hurriedly. "Let me get a sweet potato fry, a large regular fry, a 10 piece nugget, and a large soda."

Her eyes widen in shock, but she's professional enough not to comment on his order. It's still a little embarrassing, but he's not going to be home until late and filming always makes him hungry.

Still, when his order comes up, he's kind of surprised at how much food it is. He hefts his tray and heads to a table in the back of the restaurant -- he doesn't need anyone gawking at him while he eats. He glances at his phone. It's 2:00, which means he needs to eat pretty quickly. Luckily, he's good at that.

He tackles the Creamy Shrimp Whopper first. This is a new menu item, and he's been wanting to try it ever since he first saw the commercials. It's ... interesting. The burger is typical mediocre Burger King fare, but the shrimp are sweet and firm. The cream sauce is greasy, leaving an oily aftertaste in his mouth. He finishes it off in five or six big bites, washing it down with big gulps of soda. He helps himself to a few nuggets, dipping them in sweet barbecue sauce. It's fast food, so of course they're not that good, but he likes the salty crispy texture. He dips the sweet potato fries in the barbecue sauce as well. They're a little dry, but not bad really.

The thing about food is that Himchan really doesn't care if it's good. Greasy, disgusting fast food burgers are fine by him. He likes it all. He just likes eating, and rushed as he is now, he gets a little sloppy. He stuffs fries in five at a time. He opens his mouth as wide as he can to take a big bite of his second burger. He swallows down the painfully sweet Pepsi and hides a discreet belch behind his hand.

As he's finishing off the Garlic Steak Burger one slippery caramelized onion slides out of the little triangle of bun that's left and lands right on the bulge of Himchan's belly. Shit! The grease soaks into the white fabric instantly, even though he's quick to pick off the errant onion and pop it in his mouth.

Shit. Shit. At least he’s got the sweater to cover it up. He can’t go on television with a grease stain on his shirt. He’s already going to catch hell from the stylist about this.

He sadly pops a few last fries in his mouth, a last nugget or two, and then all that’s left is a wasteland of greasy wrappers.

He leans back Oh boy. He overdid it a little bit, maybe. His belly aches from how much he’s eaten. He finish the last of his soda, hoping that will cut through the heavy glutted feeling, but it doesn’t help.

Himchan piles up the wrappers on his tray. It certainly looks like a lot, all heaped up like that. A lot of garbage, just like all the garbage he just stuffed his face with. He shuffles his chair back, and he's surprised to look down and see how round and huge his belly looks.

He can't go on air like this. He's so full that there are little peeks of white soft belly visible between the gaping buttons of his shirt. He looks like a fat pig.

Shit.

It's twenty to three, and he needs to get back. There's no time to try to find something new to wear. All he can hope is the sweater is generous enough to hide his belly.

He groans as he gets to his feet. His gut feels sloshy and massive, absolutely packed full of food. He dumps his garbage and pulls his coat as tightly around himself as he can.

It's an agonizing slog back to the KBS building. He feels like everyone he passes is staring at him, even though he knows that can’t be true. He's not in the most rational state of mind. All he can think about his how full and sleepy he feels, and how appearing alert and awake and charming on camera is the last thing in the world he wants to do right now.

Thankfully, the lobby is empty, and he gets his own elevator back up to the fifteenth floor. He thinks he's home free, but then the elevator stops on the third floor. Himchan tries to button his coat. He sucks in his belly, and slips one button into the hole but he feels like a sausage squeezed into a much too tight casing. That's not going to work. He unbuttons the coat and hopes nobody important is getting on.

He is staring at his feet, so he doesn't realize who his elevator companion is at first. He sees a pair of expensive heels, strong looking ankles, beautifully curved calves, a pink pencil skirt over thighs just a bit wider than most would find attractive.

Oh no. He knows those thighs.

It's Su Siyong.

He folds his arms over his chest, and looks up. "Hello, Su-su." He coughs. "Uh, it's good to see you."

Her eyes narrow in confusion. "Himchan?"

He smiles in what he hopes is a charming way. "Come on, Su-su. It hasn't been that long."

Her cheeks color a little. It looks good on her. "I didn't recognize you," she says. There's a note of bitterness in her voice that makes him nervous. "You've put on some weight."

He frowns. He knows he's been a little lax with his diet, but he hasn't put on that much. Has he?

"Uh. I had ramen last night. I'm just swollen."

She stares pointedly at his belly.“Must have been a lot of ramen."

He swallows, and tries to pull his coat over his belly. "I've put on a couple of pounds, maybe. I ... uh. I was trying to be like you, actually. You know. Stop worrying about my diet. Enjoying my food a bit."

Her face, so soft and pretty, takes on a dangerous cast as she narrows her eyes. "You are so stupid," she says in an icy voice. "'Enjoying my food?' Is that what you really think of me?" She gestures at herself -- at her generous bosom, at the slight curve of her belly. "You think I'm like this because I 'enjoy my food'?"

Himchan doesn't get it. He knows she does enjoy her food. Why is she acting like he said something awful? "I just ... I always admired that you let yourself eat like a normal person in spite of being...."

"A normal person?" Her voice is dangerously cold now. "Himchan, I am a normal person. I'm a normal person who is fat." He's not sure what his face looks like, but it must be something else. "Yeah, that's right. I can say it. I'm fat and I'm not ashamed of it. I don't have to lie about eating ramen and being swollen." She pokes him right in the belly, hard. Her finger sinks into his soft gut.

He's surprised at the sudden, intense rush of pleasure he feels.

"Would you believe I was almost thinking of returning your call?" She shakes her head. "I'm such an idiot. Listen, Himchan, you're a sweet guy, but why don't you get a clue and figure out how to stop hating yourself? I think you'd be a lot happier."

The elevator slides to a halt on floor fourteen. Siyong gives him one last, disgusted look and gets off.

Himchan sags back against the cold elevator wall, finally relaxing his belly. It sags forward, testing the strength of his buttons.

The stylist shoves a navy sweater at him as he walks to through the door. It's dark enough to disguise the worst of his overindulgence, but it's also so tight he can see the imprint of his buttons through the fabric. He glances at himself in the mirror -- he looks like he's swallowed a bowling ball. He still feels so full and swollen, all achey with how much he's eaten.

He brings his hand to his mouth and lets out a long suppressed belch.

He is tired and distracted during filming, unable to stop thinking about Siyong and sure that everyone is whispering about how fat he's gotten, even though he's sitting behind a desk (he's not sure who to thank for that, but he wants to thank someone).

It's not his finest moment. He's so grateful to finally get back into the dressing room where he can change out of the restrictive dress shirt and pants and into his slightly more comfortable jeans and tee shirt. He's surprised at how tight the jeans feel, biting into his belly.

Siyong is right. He really has gotten fat.

He feels so awful that he stops at the grocery store on the way home and picks up a carton of ice cream. He's not an idiot -- he knows that eating ice cream when you're worried about your weight doesn't exactly make sense -- but he doesn't honestly have the energy to care. It's sweet and delicious and it makes him feel better, one spoonful at a time.

The next few months are not good. They're among the most not good Himchan's ever had. Probably the only other time in his life he remembers being as depressed is when he broke his wrist during the One Shot promotions. It had been so hard to sit at home and watch the others perform, but at least then he'd known that he'd heal soon and be able to rejoin them. At least he'd had daily updates from the kids about everything that was going on.

Now, he feels old and lonely and useless.

To add insult to injury, his hosting gig is cancelled. Through no fault of his own, the network assures him, and he thinks it's probably true. They're just revamping a lot of their programing, and the entertainment news program he hosted is being replaced by a baking competition show. He gets a few offers for variety appearances, but for the most part he turns them down. He's not feeling up to being cheerful and jovial on television.

He doesn’t totally give up, at least not at first. The week after he sees Siyong at the studio he pulls on a pair of old sweatpants and his baggiest tee shirt and laces up his old trainers. He doesn't want to show his face at the gym in his current condition so he just heads down to Hangang Park, figuring he’ll go for a run.

It's a lot harder than he remembers. He jogs slowly for a few hundred meters. He can feel his belly jiggle. He can feel the extra weight in his thighs and his ass. His sweatpants slide down the curve of his gutand he keeps tugging them back up. It's a hot day, and he gets sweaty and red-faced. The park is full of beautiful athletic people running and cycling, and Himchan feels conspicuously old and fat and slow.

Still, he keeps it up for a few days and tries to watch what he eats (only one hamburger for lunch, a small butter pecan Frappucino instead of a large). It's crushing when he steps on the scale at the end of that week and it reads 79.8.

He hasn't lost anything. He's put on a half a kilo, even while depriving himself and torturing himself with daily runs. In the mirror, he looks rounder and pudgier than ever. His belly looks big and soft even when it's not full of food, and even his chest is starting to soften up a little bit too. His cheeks are fuller. His thighs are huge.

For a wild moment, he considers going on a starvation diet. This was his old ace in the hole back in his idol days. Need to drop a few pounds fast? Well, just stop eating. That always did the trick. But he's older now, and the thought of living on a sweet potato a day is enough to make him almost want to cry.

It's no use. He's destined to be a fat ass. He might as well just give up.

He tosses his sneakers in the back of his closet and orders a few pairs of larger sweatpants off of the internet.

He spends the next few weeks indulging his sorrows like never before. He sleeps late and ignores messages from his manager. It’s perverse, he knows, but the worse he feels the hungrier he feels. He spends most of the day on the couch, reading and watching dramas and working his way through bags of chips, boxes of cookies, and packages of candy.

At night, he places big orders of fast food, crossing his fingers that the patient food service workers taking his order think he’s got several very hungry house guests. He turns the volume up on the television when the delivery person arrives, and opens the door only a crack. After he’s alone, he sets his haul out on the coffee table and eats until he’s full and almost ready to burst. Slice after slice of pizza. Giant bowls of jjajangmyeon. Box after box of greasy fried chicken. It’s never too much. There’s something wonderful and awful about the heavy achy feeling of being truly stuffed. His belly is so big and round and demands so much of his attention that he can’t even worry about all the other stuff in his life that he’s messed up so badly. And sometimes when he’s rubbing the heel of his palm into the most aching swollen part of his gut, it hurts so much it feels almost like pleasure.

He’s not sure what to make of that.

He is lying in bed at ten o’clock one morning a few months after his ill-fated encounter with Siyong when he gets a message from Yongguk.

I know you’re not ignoring me Kim Himchan. You’re coming out with us tonight, aren’t you?

Himchan throws his head back against the pillow and groans. He has been ignoring Yongguk, and he doesn’t feel good about it. He just keeps telling himself he needs a little more time before he can face his best friend. But tonight … he’s not sure if Yongguk’s going to let him blow off tonight. Tonight they’re going out -- the six of them. Daehyun and Youngjae by some miracle are both on leave for the weekend, and they have plans to go out for barbecue and beer before they head back to their respective posts.

It was, Himchan remembers with some chagrin, his idea. Months ago, before he’d even broken up with Siyong, when life has seemed so much brighter, he’d proposed this B.A.P reunion.

Idiot. He’s an idiot. He buries his head under a pillow.

The phone buzzes again.

I can tell you read the message, you know

Yongguk is too fucking smug for his own good sometimes.

I’m not an idiot, Bbang. I’ll be there tonight. Don’t worry.

Himchan closes his eyes and groans. He really really doesn’t want to do this, but if he’s going to he needs to get up and try to make himself semi-presentable.

His fingers, flung across the bed in frustration, brush something cool and smooth. Oh. It’s the box of Chocopies he’d been munching on before Yongguk’s text derailed his morning. Still halfway full.He pops one of the little chocolate pucks out of the package and into his mouth. No point in letting them go to waste. He needs some cheering up, anyway.

An hour later Himchan is standing in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Freshly showered, his hair is dripping down his back. It’s longer than he’s ever worn it. He really needs a cut. There’s a carpet of patchy stubble on his chin and cheeks. He’s been lazy about shaving. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t go out, right? He’s pale, even for him, and there are dark circles under his eyes. And, of course, he’s fat.

He’s the heaviest he’s ever been as an adult -- he hasn’t stepped on the scale yet, but that will just be confirmation of an obvious truth.He’s big. A few months of guilty sloth and gluttony have added a thick layer of pudge to his already generous form. His features are softer, and he’s got a permanent double chin. He’s got actual man boobs now, plump and round. They lead down to soft bumpers of fat under each arm. His arms, speaking of, are really thick. He lifts one, and gives it an experimental shimmy. A little flabby wing of flesh under his bicep jiggles. Ugh. His belly has taken the brunt of the damage. It’s big, hanging soft and wobbly over his waistband. He can grab a whole handful of jiggly belly fat now. There are stretch marks on his love handles, and around his belly button. His thighs are dimpled. His ass, from what little he can glimpse in the mirror, is huge. Even his knees look fat.

He hadn’t even realized knees could look fat.

He closes his eyes and takes a step forward onto the scale.

He opens one eye, and then the other. He has to lean forward a little to see over the curve of his belly.

92.4 kilograms.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

He’s not just the biggest he’s ever been as an adult. He’s barely 5 kilos from the biggest he’s ever been. He’d sworn he’d never let himself get that fat again, but here he is. He digs his fingers into his pudgy overhang. He’s made a big, fat pig of himself and he’s going to have to go out and see the guys. He’s going to have to see Daehyun and Youngjae. Shit. They’re never going to let him hear the end of this.

Nothing to do but make the best of a bad situation.

He feels a little better once he shaved and brushes his hair. He’s still a handsome guy, and even the twenty kilos he’s put on can’t totally disguise that. He smiles, and it’s the same charming smile he remembers. Almost. Except for the double chin. Opening his closet crushes any hint of self-confidence he’s been able to muster. Oh god. Nothing is going to fit. He pulls out a pair of black pants he remembers being a little bit looser than his others, maybe. They get stuck around his big pale thighs. He tries his luck with a pair of baggy, unfashionable jeans he’s had for years, and he can pull those up at least. They’re tight around his calves, though, and the seams are going to be imprinted into his thighs. The zipper doesn’t even come close to doing up. He lies on his back on his bed and tries to pack as much belly fat as he can under the flaps, but nope. Not happening. Not even close

He settles, finally, on a pair of black athletic pants that he can just pull on and an XXL black sweatshirt. The clothes are forgiving and he doesn’t look like a total fat ass. He pulls on a baseball cap and some sunglasses and heads out.

He gets a haircut first. That’s safer. He just goes to some hole in the wall place, not his usual salon. He doesn’t want to explain his absence or his gut. The ajusshi who does his hair is old fashioned and gruff and doesn’t seem to care at all what Himchan looks like. That’s just fine with him. Short on the sides and with a smart part, it really doesn’t look bad. Himchan is pleased when he inspects the man’s work in the mirror. It’s not awful. It makes him feel a little bit better.

He’s much less enthusiastic about trying to find a pair of pants that fit. He remembers this from when he was a kid. Shopping isn’t much fun when you don’t fit in even the largest size in the store. The only difference now is that he has a little more money.

He goes to the Gentleman’s section of a very nice department store and wanders around aimlessly for a while. He’s not even sure what size he is, and he’s not sure he wants to find out. He fingers a beautiful soft double-breasted wool jacket and a pair of fine cotton slacks with pleats. Fat guy clothes, but these aren’t ugly and sloppy. He’s almost worked up the nerve to take a pair of pants into the dressing room when someone clears their throat behind him.

“Can I help you?”

The speaker is an older woman, about his mother’s age, expensively dressed. Only her tasteful nametag reveals that she’s a clerk.

“Uh,” he says. “Um. No. I was just going to …” He makes a vague motion with the pants. “I’m trying to find something to wear to a party tonight.”

She smiles, kind but firm. “I don’t think you want to wear those,” she says. “You want something younger, a bit trendier. A handsome young guy like yourself shouldn’t dress like a grandfather, right?”

Himchan knows she’s just flattering a customer to make a purchase, but still, it’s nice to hear. “Um. Yeah. I …” He swallows. “I’ve put on a bit of weight lately, and I seem to have outgrown all of my favorite stores.” He smiles, hoping she’ll do him the favor of laughing at his joke.

She tuts. “Don’t worry about that,” she says, kindly. “Let’s figure out your size and we’ll a few nice things picked out for you.”

Himchan, cheeks red, follows her into a dressing room. He strips down to his boxers as she asks, and oh god. He looks even more enormous with mirrors on all sides. He’s a big, flabby pale blob.

The clerk is the picture of professionalism, though. She takes out a cloth measuring tape and for one awful moment he’s afraid it won’t be big enough to span his massive girth … But it is. More than large enough.This is a fat guy store, and they’re prepared.

“101 centimeters,” she mutters under her breath.

There was a time when he fit into a 75 cm waist. Now he’s 100 centimeters around. That’s a lot bigger. She keeps measuring him and all the numbers are so much bigger than they used to be. They’d been measured all the time for stage outfits and other clothes, and Himchan always knew his numbers. An increase of a centimeter or two was a warning bell. Now, he’s blown past all those warnings, and the numbers are almost obscene.

“Let me bring you a few things,” the clerk says, when she’s done measuring him.“I know what you kids find fashionable.” She pats him affectionately on the shoulder.

He waits in the dressing room, under the unforgiving glare of the bright lights, confronted with his reflection on all sides. There’s a whole army of fat Himchans.They exhale in unison, setting off a wobbly avalanche of belly flesh. He puts a hand on his belly. It is really soft. It’s not like Himchan’s never known any other fat guys, of course, but a lot of them are the big, thick, solid type of fat guy – beer guts and disproportionately skinny legs. Himchan’s all soft, pliable pudge. He’s almost a little pear shaped, with the way his hips flare out and then curve back in. He would be, anyway, if his love handles weren’t so huge. He’s just big all over.

But, maybe … just maybe … it’s not quite as bad as he’d imagined? There was something about hearing that number that flipped some switch in his brain. He isn’t just fat. He’s big – a really big guy. He has mass and girth and substance. He’s still not wild about being a fat pig, of course, but there’s something about being being that big that he kind of likes.

The clerk comes back with armfuls of clothing. She hands them in to Himchan one at a time, and makes him show her each outfit.

He looks a lot better wearing clothes that actually fit. The first outfit he tries on consists of a pair of soft grey trousers that are big enough that he can do them up over his stomach, and a sweater that doesn’t cling to every lump and roll on his body. It looks … not bad. The kind clerk thinks so too, but she doesn’t let him off the hook that easily. He’s barely back in the dressing room before she’s handing in another outfit.

He leaves an hour later with two shopping bags brimming full. He has new pants and tee shirts, a new jacket and several nice sweaters, all in large enough sizes that he can wear them without feeling like he’s being squeezed half to death.

He doesn’t go totally overboard, of course, because he will lose the weight. Eventually. One day.

Right?

Later that night, he’s standing in front of the door where he’s supposed to meet the guys and his nerves are acting up again. He’s wearing a pair of new jeans and a tee shirt with a sweater over it. In his apartment when he’d admired himself in the mirror, he’d actually thought he looked pretty good. Big and solid. Manly, almost, which wasn’t something Himchan was used to feeling.

Now, though, he’s thinking about the last time he saw Yongguk, and how he’d been ten kilos lighter. He’s thinking about the last time he saw Youngjae and Daehyun. It had been right after he’d gotten out of the army and he’d been in the best shape of his life. He’d been so proud that he’d almost had abs for a little while.

Now he’s got a shelf, he thinks, patting the jut of his belly.

Oh well. Nothing he can do but grin and bear it. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

They’re all gathered in the back room – everyone is here. They’re sitting around a table laden with food and soju and beer, laughing and talking so that they don’t notice him at first.

“Oh sure,” he says, a little loudly. “Ignore poor old Himchan hyung.”

Everyone looks at him, and there’s a moment of silence, an awful moment where HImchan almost wonders if they don’t recognize him (so fat his best friends don’t even recognize him!) but then the moment passes and they’re all on their feet, patting him on the back and pulling him into hugs. He rubs a hand on Youngjae and Daehyun’s short cropped hair.

“Nice ears,” he says to Daehyun.

Daehyun groans. “My squad calls me Dumbo.”

Himchan slides into his place next to Yongguk. It’s a little bit harder now, a little bit of a tighter fit, but he manages okay. Yongguk smiles at him and Himchan feels a lot better.

Youngjae and Daehyun get caught up trying to get Junhong to tell them who he’s dating, and when their attention is elsewhere, Yongguk leans over and says, “Are you okay?”

Himchan frowns. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Yongguk’s expression is deadpan. “You didn’t return any of my calls for weeks.”

Himchan frowns. “Um. I was kind of depressed, I guess.”

It’s true, he realizes, although he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.

“But you’re okay?”

Other than putting on fifteen kilos and turning into a fatso? “I’m fine,” he says. “Really. I’m sorry, Bbang. I won’t ignore you any more.”

Yongguk grins. “Good,” he says quietly.

His weight, surprisingly, doesn’t come up until much later in the evening. They’re all a little tipsy by now, having moved on from the restaurant to a noraebang, and Himchan is getting slowly to his feet to do a duet with Jongup. Daehyung, who is pretty drunk, takes a bad step, and falls right into Himchan. He almost knocks HImchan off his feet. Himchan grunts and barely manages to stay upright. Daehyun clings, one hand resting low on Himchan’s belly, on the softest, jiggliest roll of fat.

“Damn hyung,” Daehyun says. He gives Himchan’s belly an affectionate squeeze. “You really have given up on the idol life, haven’t you? You’re huge.”

Himchan’s cheeks go scarlet. “I’m going to leave the singing and dancing to you whippersnappers,” he says calmly, even though he feels like he could crumple up and disappear from embarrassment. “I’m taking on pursuits more appropriate to a man approaching middle years.”

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says, sharply. He’s always been a little too observant for Himchan’s tastes. “Get over here. You said you were going to sing ‘Gee’ and do the choreo. There’s no way you still remember the dance.”

This time, though, Himchan is glad for the out. He closes his eyes and reaches for his glass.

Much later still, so late it’s nearly morning, they are out on the streets. Jongup and Yongguk are gone. They left early, because they’re the smartest ones. Daehyun is throwing up in a gutter, leaning on Junhong for support. Himchan has his hands shoved in his pocket. Youngjae is watching him quietly. There’s another sounds of explosive vomiting, and Himchan takes a step away. He really likes these shoes.

“Sorry about Daehyun before,” Youngjae says quietly, without looking up. It’s funny, but he still looks just as young as ever, even with the shaved head.

“Huh?” Himchan asks. He’s not really that drunk, but he feels a little muddled.

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says. “He shouldn’t have said anything about your weight. He doesn’t … he doesn’t get it though.” He smiles, a little sadly. “He’s always been kind of a dick about that stuff, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Himchan says slowly. There were moments, over the years, when Daehyun said something about his weight that stung, sharp and cruel. Himchan had laughed those comments off, because what choice did he have?

“He doesn’t know how much work it is, how exhausting it gets,” Youngjae says, tiredly, and Himchan remembers Youngjae at eighteen, when they’d just debuted and he’d been just a little bit soft with baby fat. He remembers how embarrassed Youngjae had been when the press had snapped a few pictures of his barely soft stomach, and how diligently he’d worked to lose weight. Youngjae, Himchan thinks, knows exactly how exhausting it is to count every calorie you put into your mouth. He is suddenly intensely sad, for both of them.

“Anyway,” Youngjae says. “I’m glad you’re taking it a bit easier now. You look good.”

Himchan rolls his eyes, “I look …”

“You look good, seriously,” Youngjae says. He brushes his hand over his hair, over the patch on top where it’s getting a little thin. “Are you happy?”

Himchan shrugs. “I’m working on it,” he says, slowly. “I’m trying.”

Youngjae smiles at him, and he’s about to say something else, but there’s a howl behind them as Junhong steps back quickly from Daehyun. There’s vomit splattering his shoes. Daehyun goes down heavy onto his knees.

“Oh god,” Youngjae says. “You go get Junhong and keep him from killing Daehyun. I’ll try to get Daehyun home.”

And for a little while, the fact that Himchan’s carrying twenty extra kilos doesn’t matter at all. It’s almost like the good old days. It’s almost like nothing has changed – nothing important, anyway.

He wakes up early the next morning with a terrible hangover. He hauls himself out of bed, takes two aspirin, and lies down on the couch. When he wakes again it’s two in the afternoon and he feels much better. He feels better, in fact, than he has in months. It was really, really good to see the guys. His heart feels whole again.

He’s also starving. He makes himself three fried eggs and heats up some frozen hash browns. He makes a nice little pile of buttery toast while the eggs cook. He makes a cup of instant coffee and sits down to eat his breakfast at his kitchen table. He takes his time, wanting to make sure he doesn’t overdo it, but this is nothing he can’t handle. When his plate is clean, he sits back with one hand resting on his belly, feeling totally, utterly content.

After he showers and dresses in some of the nice new clothes he’s bought, he actually works up the nerve to call his manager and beg forgiveness. After a well deserved reaming out, his manager tells him that he’s had a few offers come in for new projects.

Himchan clears his throat. “Hyung,” he says. “Listen … I’ve um. I’ve put on a little more weight.”

His manager makes a tired sound. “Okay,” he says. “We can get you a personal trainer again. We can …”

“No,” Himchan says. “I don’t want to do that. I’m … I’m okay with it. I’m just letting you know.”

“Oh,” his manager says, seemingly at a loss.

HImchan clears his throat. “Tell me about these new opportunities.”

Four weeks later, Himchan is signing a contract to be a member of a new MBC variety show focusing on the traditional arts. He’s also, reluctantly, agreed to start going to the gym, but the joke’s on his company. He goes three times a week like they ask but he mostly does strength exercises, capped off by a leisurely walk in the treadmill. Getting a little exercise is a good thing, he thinks, but this routine isn’t going to slim him back down anytime soon. Not with the way he’s been eating.

He’s put on a few more kilos, in fact. He’s tried to cut out the worst of his binging. He’s not eating two pizzas a night any more, and isn’t pigging out on fried chicken, but he’s Kim Himchan and he’s still got a very healthy appetite and a real weakness for sweets. At the development meetings for the new show, there’s always a table of pastries and fruit, and Himchan makes sure to fix himself a nice plate before he sits down. He hasn't switched back to iced coffee -- his default Starbucks order is still a Venti Mocha with full fat milk and extra whipped cream. It just tastes better. He's not going back to those salad days of boiled chicken breast and soybean paste soup. He's just not going to do it.

All the nice new clothes he got start to get a little tight, though. The pants start pulling around the waist. The sleeves of the shirts start to squeeze his pillowy upper arms. Even the sweaters start to get a little tight, clinging to the curve of his belly, not doing nearly so much to disguise it.

He's not sure it can be disguised, at this point. He's getting big. His scale is shoved under the counter in the bathroom -- out of sight, out of mind. He's trying to stop worrying about the numbers, but he can tell from the way his belly looks so huge that he's passing definitively out of the realm of chubby and into the kingdom of fat.

Kim Himchan is a fat man.

It's funny, but those words don't burn quite the way they once would have.

It's even funnier that nobody else seems to care quite as much as he thought they would.

Strangest of all, he's actually had a few people flirt with him. He's not sure, because Himchan's never been the best at noticing that kind of thing. He can turn on the charm when he wants, but he assumes all attention directed his way is mocking. Still, he'd gone out with some of the staff of the variety show to a bar a few weeks back and there had been a woman there -- his age, attractive, very well dressed -- who had talked to him all night. She'd been friendly and engaging and coy, and he'd been nearly convinced she'd been flirting with him.

He hadn't been positive, though, so he hadn't asked for her number. He almost regrets that, except every time he thinks of dating someone his thoughts inevitably drift back to Siyong.

He hadn't realized in their brief time together how much he'd come to care for her. She's the second lead in a new drama, and every time he sees an ad for it he's struck at how beautiful she is. Her beauty is barely the smallest part of what he misses though. It had been so easy to be with her, once he'd gotten past her initial shy demeanor. She was easygoing and kind, and she had a great sense of humor. He'd love just sitting in her kitchen chatting while she whipped up something delicious and sweet.

He regrets now how unwillingly he'd always sampled her baking. It's just one of so many regrets he has when he thinks about Su Siyong.

But, like Himchan's thirty-inch waist, some things are gone and won't ever come back.

In the fall of that year, after the first season of the variety show has ended to general acclaim, Himchan is invited to the wedding of an acquaintance-- it's not someone he knows well, just one of those people he'd run into here and there over the years. The wedding invitation is a generous gesture, and although he has a pang about the +1 on the invitation, he decides to go.

The day he mails in his response, he steps on the scale for the first time in almost half a year. He’s going to need to buy a new suit. He's pretty sure that the nice navy suit he bought in the summer isn't going to fit any more. He knows he's put on more weight. He's big enough now that he can't find anything at all that will fit him in a standard size store. Even XLs are comically small. He goes to specialty shops catering to larger men -- fat guy stores.

It doesn't bother him as much as it should.

There have been a few articles about his weight gain, and he's read them, but all the sting has gone out of it. He feels good. He feels better now than he has in years. He's even gotten more serious about strength training at the gym, so at least a little of his new bulk is probably muscle. He knows people whisper when he eats as much as the other, skinnier cast members, but why shouldn't he?

He realizes now, finally, what Su-su had meant about not hating himself.

There's a strange, residual moment of terror when he stands in front of his old nemesis the scale. He's spent so many years terrified of what it would reveal: every kilo gained was a personal failing, every kilo lost was just a temporary victory against an overwhelming tide.

He thinks he's over that, but twenty odd years of self-loathing aren't all that easy to shrug off.

He takes a step forward onto the scale, eyes closed. He waits, almost trembling with nerves, while it registers his weight. He opens an eye and looks down but all he can see is the pale hemisphere of his belly. He leans forward.

114.2 kilos.

He feels hot and cold all at once. 114.2 kilos. The number sounds so big. Huge, honestly.

The realization that he's not upset is even more shocking than the number itself.

He can't quite define how he feels, honestly, but that awful icky shame feeling in the pit of his stomach is absent. He knows that one well; he lived with it long enough. He feels surprised, definitely. Even though he knew he'd been gaining weight, 114.2 kilos is still a lot. Even more shocking is the thought that in the last year he's put on almost 50 kilos in the last year.

When he thinks about that, he doesn't feel bad at all. Instead he feels almost ... proud?

Yes, proud is the right word, although it still sits a little uneasily. There is something kind of impressive about the enormous bulge of his belly, maybe. If you look at it in the right light. There's definitely something impressive about how much he can eat. It's not like everyone can toss back a pizza like it's nothing. There's something wonderful, certainly, about how much he enjoys eating.

A month or so later, just before Christmas, Himchan shows up at the Shilla Hotel feeling pretty good about himself. He's wearing a new suit, custom-made, that fits him like a glove. (The tailor he works with had thoughtfully added a few centimeters to his initial measurements, allowing for some extra indulgence leading up to the holidays. Himchan hasn't weighed himself recently, but he's more than filling out the 120cm waist pants.) He gets out of his car and hands his keys to the valet. In the glossy plate glass exterior of the hotel, he takes stock of what he sees: a large man, certainly, but well dressed, and with a charming smile. He straightens his lapels, and brushes a stray hair back into place.

It's a lovely evening. Himchan has a great time. The couple is deeply in love, and their joy is infectious. The food is excellent, and provided in such ample quantities that even Himchan eats his fill (or comes close, at least). There's an excellent band playing good music. Opulent displays of flowers cover every horizontal surface, and many of the vertical ones. He catches up with some old friends he hasn't seen in years. Not one of them mentions his weight.

Still, by the end of the evening, Himchan is feeling melancholy. Not sad, exactly, but just a little sorrowful to think that in the midst of all this happiness he's alone, and there are no prospects of that changing anytime soon. He drains his glass of cabernet and gets up to get another. Rather than return to the table he takes a seat at the bar. It's more of an effort than it used to be to haul himself onto the bar stool, but there's a lot more of him to haul.

He's nursing his wine when someone sits down beside him. The bar is pretty full, so it's not surprising. He glances over. It's a woman, looking away from him down the bar, towards the front of the room. Her generous curves are poured into a sleeveless pink dress, and her blonde hair is tucked up into an elegant knot. There's something familiar about the way she's sitting, with one leg curled around the other. He's seen that before. It's so familiar. It's ...

"Su-su?"

She turns around, surprised, and he can see the confusion in her eyes. If it had taken her a moment to recognize him the last time they met, now the reaction is even more delayed. He understands why. He looks much different. Much fatter.

"Himchan?" Her eyes are wide.

"Hello," he says, and he smiles.

"Himchan. Hi.” She turns towards him, eyes wide with suprise.

"You look lovely," he says, because it's truth. She looks more beautiful than he's ever seen her.

"Thank you," she says, smiling. "You look ..."

He forces the smile to stay on his face. "Fat," he says. "I know. You can say it."

She narrows her eyes. "I was going to say happy," she says.

He thinks about that for a moment. "I am happy," he says. "Happier than I've been in a long time. Fat, too, though." He smiles wryly.

Su-su sits back. She looks confused. "What happened? Are you okay? Are you..."

"I'm fine," Himchan says. "Really. It was rough going for a little while there, but I'm in a much better place now."

"I'm glad," she says cautiously. “You do look like you’ve

He is struck suddenly at how badly he must have hurt her. He knew it, but he can feel it now. He'd been ashamed of her and more ashamed of himself, and all that shame had been a twisted, evil thing that had ruined any chance they had of being happy together. He’d been so unhappy with himself, he doesn’t think he could have been happy with anyone.

The bartender comes with Siyong’s drink, and she moves as if to stand up. Himchan realizes that if she does, this is it. They'll never be anything to each other again. And maybe that would be what he deserves, but he wants to apologize before she goes in case he doesn't get another chance.

"Hey," he says, resting a hand on her arm to pause her.

She turns back towards him, eyes hard.

"I just want to apologize again," he says. "Su-su, I'm so sorry."

He can see in her face all the years of effort she's spent fighting against a society and a world that told her she's wrong just for being her.

"It's fine, Himchan," she says. "I appreciate it, honestly, but I've ..."

"No," he says. "It's not fine. I didn't realize." He shakes his head. "I didn't realize how much I hated myself. I spent such a long time worrying that someone might call me fat I never stopped to wonder why I was scared of it to begin with. I didn't realize how brave you were for just deciding to be you, and not ashamed of it." He clears his throat. "So, I'm sorry, Su-su. I know there's nothing I can do to make up for it, but I want you to know."

Something in her face crumples, and she sits back down. "Oh, Himchan," she says. "It's okay. Really." She sighs. "I know it's hard. I mean ..." She closes her eyes. "I try so hard, but you know what they told me when I got the part in 'Moonlight Girl'?

This was the drama she'd just completed. It had been a relatively big hit, and Himchan had been glad for her.

"They said they wanted a chubby girl, but they told me not to gain any more weight. 'Chubby, but not really chubby.' That's what they said."

Himchan frowns. "What did you tell them?"

She shrugs. "Nothing," she says. "I needed the work."

He nods, slowly. He gets it. He really gets it. It's taken him until his thirties to even think of defying conventional stick-thin wisdom, and he knows it must be ten time as bad for her as a woman. Sometimes, the fight isn’t worth the cost. Sometimes, though, it is.

Himchan feels his cheeks growing red. "I knew I was an idiot for losing you, but I didn't realize how amazing you were, Su-su. You're a hundred times braver than I am."

Siyong stares down at her hands folded in her lap. She takes a deep breath, and then looks up. Her eyes are bright. "Maybe ... Maybe we could get dinner sometime? Start over?"

He smiles so wide he feels like his cheeks are going to split, and he doesn't even worry about how chubby it makes his face look. "You still want to? In spite of ... all this?" He pats his fat gut. He’s not the guy she started dating almost a year ago -- he doesn’t look like that guy, at least.

She flushes even redder. "I think you look good," she says. "Really. It suits you."

He laughs, a little embarrassed, but also so happy. Happier than he can remember being in forever. "I kind of like it," he says. "It's a lot easier, eating what I want."

She giggles and nods. "I'm glad I'm done with the drama." She pats her own soft belly. "It's so nice not to worry. I've actually been thinking of getting another slice of that cake."

Himchan nods. It had been excellent cake -- soft and spongy, with a thick layer of custard in between and sugared fruit on top.

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea," he says. He gets to his feet, and offers her his hand. "Shall we?"

She takes it. Hand in hand, they set off to find their cake.

[annnnnnabanana]

How can you tell them that you want them and that you care for them but you can’t be with them. I’ll always be there for you. when it is 3am and im drunk or when its 2pm and im working. I’m there. always there. it’s you; it’s always been you since I met you five months ago. The way you make me feel is insane. It’s an indescribable feeling. You made me feel every single fucking emotion. You made me so happy but you managed to make me so sad. Luckily the happy outweighed the sad. Maybe one day we will cross paths, you’ll see me, i’ll see you, we’ll meet up and reconnect and talk like we never stopped. Our passion was like fire. Bright and hot. We loved hard for five months. We definitely fought to be together. You picked me. You wanted me instead of her. I picked you over everyone. You understood me. I remember staying up for nights in a row just to talk to you until morning. Our silences were so calming and weren’t awkward. I could sit there and listen to you breathe and be so content with life. I wish we were in my car and I was driving doing something stupid and you just laughed like I was an idiot but I really knew you were falling in love with me with every little moment we spent together. From the waffle house dates to playing monopoly to getting lost in Narnia a.k.a. IKEA to sitting in my room just talking to being on facetime and you making music or you showing me your favorite songs. God I miss you. To be honest, I don’t think i’ll ever stop missing you. You were something special. You didn’t know how to open up to me. I struggled because i knew you wanted to let me in but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to get hurt. You didn’t want someone to learn so much about you that they could hurt you. I wasn’t ever going to hurt you. I never planned on it. But you, you hurt me. You destroyed me. I’m broken because of you. But there you are, partying and getting drunk with random people you don’t know, probably fucking some girl in your room, to suppress your feelings; but here I am, getting drunk and crying my pitiful, sad tears all alone to let out my feelings. You’re numb. You put up these walls that I spent five months trying to break down. I let you in straight away because i’m too trusting. I care too much. I love too deeply. I get attached too easily. It fucks me up. Maybe one day i’ll learn to not do that to keep my heart from being broken and crushed. You ripped my heart out of my chest tonight. I’ll be numb too, just like you. But eventually i’ll be okay. I’ll find someone who won’t make me feel like this. You’ll still be sleeping around trying to forget your hurt and pain. I wonder if you’ll lay in your bed at night tossing and turning because you can’t sleep because you’re thinking of me and if I still miss you. If you’re wondering, I do. We both have some growing up to do. We both were changing. You couldn’t handle having someone there to help you through it. You didn’t want to change together. You didn’t want to grow with me, I did. I wanted to go through everything with you; the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You were scared you were going to hurt me so you let me go. It was more painful to know you didn’t want to try with me. You tried to spare my feelings. I’m not some fragile fucking doll. I am a damn human. I am strong and I can take what you throw at me. I wanted us to work out. In all honesty, it got to the point, for me, where I was day dreaming about our future together. Our house, our jobs, our kids, our wedding. All of it. But it doesn’t matter now. You threw it all away… But I hope you can be happy and successful just like I hope you wish the same for me. I won’t talk bad about you because you were and still are what I wanted. You’ll forever be engraved in my heart and my mind. You taught me how a guy should treat me, how I should be loved, and I can’t thank you enough for it. Hopefully, I taught you something too. Maybe you can love your next girl even better and treat her even better. Maybe she will be more than what I could/ did give you. I hope she does you well. I hope she checks up on you while you’re drunk. I hope she likes your music and she supports you. I hope she doesn’t get mad when you need to be alone because you’re going through something you can’t explain. I hope she knows your favorite colors, that you only like Chickfilas diet lemonade and that’s all you will drink from there, your slightly unhealthy obsession with Selena Gomez and butts, that you love choking people and that it is your job, that you can eat seven plates of food and still be hungry, that your favorite movie of all time is Dead pool, that you’re insecure about your calves and only you can make fun of them or you get upset, that you and your sister are really close, that you and your dad share college stories, that you love memes and deadlifting, that your favorite animal is a penguin, that you believe in aliens, that even though you are lactose intolerant you still choose to eat area 51 ice cream because that is your favorite place, that you also really love chicken nuggets and I think if it were possible you would marry them, that you love waffle house, that you love crazy crew socks, that you love being dressy and you love playing dress up, that when you start tapping your fingers to the beat of a song you are playing the beat in your head and trying to figure it out, that you’re weird but it makes you ten times funnier, that you are charming, that you are the perfect gentleman, that it is hard for you to open up and let people in, and I hope she gets to know more of you than I got to know even if I wanted to know every detail about you; from the day you were born to the very day and moment we are in right now.

Why can’t you get drunk and text me that you miss you like I do when i’m drunk. It doesn’t seem fair that you hold it together so well while i’m barely holding on by a thread, just dangling there waiting for someone to cut the string. You remember how this whole thing started? It started with Grey’s Anatomy. You tweeted, “what’s so hype about greys?” I replied, “hot doctors and crazy cool illnesses.” You said, “hmm maybe i’ll watch an episode.” A few days later, I dmed you because it gave me the perfect excuse to talk to you. Of course you said you didn’t watch it. I remember the first thing you told me was that you thought your middle name was weird and then you randomly told me your middle name. we talked every day from that night. We made so many memories starting from that night. and now… now it’s all over. Both going through the same cycle. Heartbreak, sadness, possibly anger, happiness. But then we just start over with someone new and then go through that cycle with them. I didn’t want to have to start over. I didn’t want to go through the heartache or the breakups or the sadness. I wanted to be with you and only you. I wanted to wake up at 4am and look to my left and see you laying next to me. I wanted to make breakfast together in our cute apartment/ house. I wanted to cuddle up next to you on our couch eating dinner and drink some sort of alcoholic beverage enjoying each others company watching some weird ass show I probably found. I’ll always wonder what you’re doing. If you’re talking to some new girl. If you’re having sex with some girl to fill the void like you do. I’ll wonder if you’re okay. I’ll wonder if you wonder about me. I’ll wonder if you want to get back together with me. I’ll always wonder. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I miss you and I hope you miss me too. 1/22/2017 2:05am 1/24/2016 11:03pm You texted me today. I replied with I miss you. You didn’t reply. I drove to all of our places today. I cried and I laughed because of our memories we made. Im sad because I know that it’s completely over between us and I wish it wasn’t because we had so much growing to do that we could have done together. I know you want to be with me but right now it’s too hard. We could have been something special, ya know? Really special. We could have given each other the world. I miss you so much. Its only been four days but all I do is cry. 1/27/17 8:07am I am in class. It’s boring. And all I’m doing is thinking about you. I still miss you. It’s been 6 days, almost a week since we broke up. I’m still sad but I’m better. I hope we can try again one day. You were and still are my favorite person. You make me so happy. You said you wanted to be with me but you couldn’t. It hurt but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as when you said you are trying to detach yourself. That broke me. I’m sorry for talking about my feelings and oversharing and just missing you. I don’t really know what to do. I have this feeling that we will get back together but in my mind we won’t. I have not been able to get the thought out of my head that you are fucking some other girl and the thought of that makes me sick. Like honestly sick, like I could throw up at any moment. I had a dream last night: you came to my house with flowers, talked to my mom. You didn’t tell her we were broken up because you knew that I never told her in hopes of us getting back together and I didn’t want her to not like you. You came to my room and asked if we could talk and I said get the hell out because I didn’t want to speak to you because you broke my heart. You didn’t leave. You came in, shut my door and sat on my bed. I sat up and said I didn’t want to hear anything you had to say because I was sick of your bullshit. You talked to my anyways because you knew I would listen. You said, “I want to be with you, Anna. I miss you and I keep coming back to you. You are my favorite person. I would do anything for you. I care about you so much. Do you miss me? (as if you didn’t already know the answer).” “Of course I miss you, Braeden. How could I not? You were so special to me and I don’t think you realized it. But I am so sick of your bullshit excuses and I’m tired of running back to you just so you can break my heart again and again and again. You showed me something about myself that I didn’t think anyone could show me. You showed me how I should be treated by everyone that came into my life and I can’t thankyou enough for that.” “Do you wanna go for a drive with me”, you asked. “Yeah, I do.” We got up to leave. My mom said be safe and that she loved us. We got in your car and started driving. You told me why you left and that there was no ulterior motive behind it, that you weren’t lying. I am so appreciative of the fact that you are so honest with me. I stared out the window while you were talking to me. I couldn’t look at you without crying. I just wanted to hug and kiss you but I knew I couldn’t do that. That it wouldn’t be fair to me or you. I am always looking out for you. I always have and will put you and your feelings above myself even though I know I shouldn’t do that. You looked at me looking out the window and you smiled. I saw it in the reflection of the windshield. I said what. You said, “I have to tell you something and im not sure how you will react or how im going to react after the words come out of my mouth.” I said, “what is it? Are you gonna tell me you slept with 15 girls in the matter of a 2 weeks and then got back together with Mallory?” “No I wasn’t going to tell you that. Why would you think that? I never even thought of sleeping with someone else Anna.”, you said. I said, “ that’s what you do Braeden. When you are single, you fuck. That’s all you do is fuck.” I knew when I said that, I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I apologized for saying it. You know I would never hurt you on purpose. You told me that it was okay; that you knew I was sorry. You acted like it didn’t affect you. I hate when you do that. You put up this façade and act like nothing matters to you and that nothing hurts you and that you don’t care. I do it too. I am trying to stop it. You said, “can I tell you what I was trying to tell you ten minutes ago?” we are in horn lake somewhere, I don’t remember driving that far. “yes you can, Im sorry.” Im always apologizing for something. “don’t be sorry, Anna. But * long pause* I think I love you.” I sit up and I finally looked at you. “what?” “Yes, Anna, I really do.” “Since when Braeden because you sure as hell don’t act like it,” I said. “since I met you. I knew it on our first date that I was gonna fall in love with you.” “oh…,” I said. Then I woke up and Im not quite sure what happened after that.. I know that this dream will never happen in real life. I know that you don’t love me like that. I know you don’t want me. And that’s okay. I’m eating. More than the last time we broke up. Im not drowning my feelings and filling my veins with alcohol like I did before. Im better. I might be sad but im better. My mom asked about you Friday, I had to tell her and she got mad at me for not telling her sooner… Telling her, made it seem so much more real. I didn’t want her to know because it gave me some sort of hope in us getting back together. I didn’t want her to not like you but she still likes you even loves you. I had another dream; all you did was text me about some hockey player attatched with a picture. It was weird and I don’t know what’s happening to me. Its been 4 days and I still haven’t cried.. its been a week and one day since we broke up and it still hurts just like it did the first time you broke up with me. Day 11 since we broke up… 2/1/17 10:31am Well its our almost what would have been six months of being together. 3 months of officially dating. But that doesn’t exist anymore. I got sad yesterday and of course im still sad today. I think about you all the time. You never leave my mind. It’s literally impossible to go a second without seeing thinking of you. I see you in everything I do. It hurts me but somehow makes me happy at the same time. I still have all our pictures and videos because I can’t seem to delete them. It would make me sad to know that I could never look back at all the memories we made. I am honestly surprised I am doing as well as I am. When we broke up the first time, I was a mess. I didn’t eat or sleep or anything really. The only thing I did was drink and drink and drink. Its all I did for a week straight. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t breathe. I felt sick. I missed my home. My comfort. My safe place. You were my home. I never felt safer than when I was in your arms. Your hugs made me feel warm and happy. No matter what I did or how I felt, you were always there for me. It’s hard to do things without thinking of you or it bringing back memories. I can’t listen to certain songs or go to certain places or order certain things without crying or feeling sadness because it is all associated with you. I remember every little detail about you and our relationship. It’s a constant cycle of me just replaying our memories in my brain. It’s never ending. You are on my mind when I wake up, all day, when I go to sleep, and even in my dreams. I can never get away from you no matter how hard I try. I know it’s not over for us. I feel it in my bones, my heart, my brain, my blood, everything. We are nowhere near done; not any time soon. I was talking to Meagan last night. I know what you are thinking; your best friend. My Mallory has told me over and over that all you did was use me for sex. But I don’t think you did. If I did, you wouldn’t have stayed with me for five months. You would have left me the second after we did stuff together. I think you genuinely cared for me and showed me how I should be treated and I cant thank you enough for that. I am so appreciative of you. I know you know that I am always there for you no matter what and that I will always care for you and that you will ALWAYS have a special place in my heart. I told her that I think we were getting super serious too fast and it scared you. You aren’t used to something like that. You take your time but I think you realized that you were falling and falling hard and fast and you didn’t know what to do or how to handle it. I was scared because I didn’t know what was happening. Im terrified. I didn’t know what I was feeling or how I was feeling. My emotions went crazy. I think I realized that I was falling too. I’m scared of being happy. Scared of being in love. Scared of fully opening myself up to someone. I know you are too. I don’t think you and Mallory or any of your exes had a connection like we did. I don’t think you felt like this with anyone but me. I really do hope you are doing okay because im not. Im doing horrible. Im constantly being asked if I am and I say yes but I know I am lying and I think they know im lying too. They still like you. They hope that we get back together. They want you to come over on super bowl Sunday. My dad asked about you… He said he missed you and he never says that about anyone. Im sorry I feel the way I feel. Im sorry I couldn’t help you get through what you needed to get through. I told Meagan that she could read this one day but I don’t think I will let her. Maybe one day I can stop writing because A) we get back together or B) I finally get over you. Man, I hope it is the first one. I really do. But for right now, I’m not done writing and I won’t be anytime soon.. I Love You So Much. Its 3:03am on Friday February 3rd, 2017. You sent me a song yesterday that you remixed. It was another one of your breakup mixes, you know, the ones that make you a lot of money and get you a lot of views… yeah one of those. I don’t know why you did it. Was it to hurt me? To remind me of you and that you still existed? Either way it was still good and I really like it. But I decided to look up the meaning of the lyrics and it hurt me. “fighting flames of fire hang onto burning wires we don’t care anymore Are we fading lovers?” It makes total sense. We had hardships in our relationship. A lot, actually. We are fading; we don’t talk anymore. We hung to burning wires; clinging for us to stay together. Fighting for what we wanted and needed. I cried for so long today. My mom is worried. I don’t know how long it will take me to be happy again. I’m getting drunk tonight, and Saturday and Sunday. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take my feelings and emotions and the pain. It feels like my heart has been ripped out and stepped on by a bunch of elephants. You were like the ocean and I was drowning. I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know how I’m functioning. I am a functioning depressed person. I hope you regret it. I hope you regret leaving me. I hope you realize you made a wrong choice and that you come back to me. I hope that you think about me everyday.. and what we could have been. You texted me today.. 2/9/17.. you asked about your red jacket. I know you knew I didn't have it, or so I thought? Was it just an excuse to text me, to see me? What was it? Because i cant keep having you text me randomly when you miss me or when you feel like. Its fucked up on your end knowing how much I care for you.

[0225pm]

04 dec 2017

yooohoo

so it's currently 11:43pm and i'm writing this in the toilet as i poop.

didn't do much today but i met dayah and we went to bedok singpost for awhile in the afternoon cus she had to top up the current for the house. and then we went to bedok mall to have our late lunch. i suggested eating at fish n chicks cus i really wanted to try their hawaiian chicken set but we ended up just having lunch at 18chefs instead cus she didn't really feel like having anything there after looking at the menu. kinda bummed but i guess there's always a next time (hopefully!!). i wanted to have my usual (the tomyum fusilli or the curry rice with beef) but didn't wanna go over my budget of 10 bucks so i just got the cheese baked rice under the student meal which is also my usual when i wanna eat something nice and filling but at the same time still save!! cus their student meal automatically comes with a drink (the standard ice lemon tea) and dessert (ice cream of the day). so for about $10 or less, you practically get a whole meal which to me is really worth it if you feel like having "normal" food instead of fast food all the time.

after our lunch, she had to fill the current up so we went back to her place and i waited for her with the neighborhood cat. super cute, i should have taken a photo so i post it here but i didn't lol. and then she booked an appointment at the doctor's cus of an injury she had during her trip at pulau ubin. damn clumsy af wth. her hands and a side of her face were covered in scars from all the thorns and she has a really bad bruise around her abdomen and bladder area wtf. i fuckig told her to go for an xray since it's such a sensitive area but stubbornly refused zz no matter how many times i advised her to.

but ya anyway while waiting for her appointment, han suddenly called me and asked me if i want to accompany him cut his hair or not today. i said yes!! cus i told him before to bring me if he wants to cut his hair but i can only leave around 7 or so i thought.... cus i actually reached his place around 9 lol. i felt bad just leaving dayah there so i waited till she sees the doctor before i left and took an uber down to han's place. unfortunately, by the time we reached the barbershop it was already 9:15pm and they closed at 9pm so we actually missed it by 15 minutes. sadly.

then han raged like a madman for awhile, kinda like a screaming child throwing a little bit of tantrum (jk lol i love you bb!!!!!!) because he really wanted to get a haircut today. he couldn’t tahan how long and bushy his hair has become cus he felt rimas hahahaha. imo, he can style his hair up a little like what he did last time since his fringe was getting in the way but lol i didn’t really suggest that to him just now cus i don’t think he’ll do it even hahahahha. and then he had a short moment of regret cus he felt that he should have just went ahead and got his hair cut, instead of waiting for me and going together.

after he was done being a madman, we walked towards the mrt because there’s an eatery nearby selling really cheap food, something like ananas. and he bought set A which is nasi lemak. there were pretty much only noodles and other fried food available since the eatery was already preparing to close for the day. 

then we walked around, to look for a sitting area at the void deck so he can sit down and eat. honestly, it would have been easier if we just go sit at his block’s void deck, but i was trying to avoid all chances of seeing his mom since i wasn’t properly dressed. the thing about me is that, i like wearing shorts or skirts more than jeans or pants or whatever long bottoms because i feel so restricted covering up all the skin on my legs (lol) but at the same time, i think it is rude for me to show up with a “naked” bottom, especially in front of the older generations. i think most malays (muslims) can relate to this. like tbh, my parents are super okay with me wearing shorts or skirts out but i don’t want to give a bad impression to others you know. and like, i know i should be myself and all but i don’t want to put whatever good (i hope) impression his mom have of me in jeopardy (even tho she already saw me wearing a skort ONCE). and tbh it is hard for me to be super comfortable around his mom cus she seems so traditional. like you cannot have any skinship because it’s haram and all lol whereas for my mom, she’s like super duper ok with skinship (she kept teasing me by saying things like “ooooh later far touch touch here (my thighs)” whenever i wear shorts/skirts out to meet han) but ya like apparently she’s totally fine with skinship. like even when han went over to my aunt’s and then sat beside me, being all chummy and touchy by laying on my thighs, or my shoulders, holding my hand etc, she didn’t even say anything when she saw it. it’s like she’s totally ok and sometimes i feel like she’s even encouraging the skinship actually LOLLLLLLLL istg!!!!

ok ya then we walked around looking for seats, petted some cats (we saw 4 cats!!!) and then finally just decided to walk back towards another block near the mall and found an empty sitting area!!! han ate and then we talked about his work, and other stuff. today was also the day i realised that han doesn’t like jobs that are gaji buta HAHAHAH. he prefers to be doing something on the job rather than just idling away not doing anything. but he also told me that he might not be able to last long at his current workplace due to experience-wise as well as the people there who are not really willing to teach him hands-on. just passing him some paper/manual thingy and asked him to read it instead of using his phone. tbh i find that quite shitty???? it was pretty much mundane at the start of the day until he was given a task to cut boards thingy till the end of his shift.  by 1030pm he was already getting really sleepy and tired, i guess his body clock is rewiring itself since it was pretty much fucked during the weekends and then i suggested that i should go home then so he can have an early rest. our meetup was short but honestly it was worthwhile going back and forth just to see him even if there wasn’t any skinship involved. and i’m not sure if he feels the same way but to me, just being around him makes me happy tbvh. like we don’t even have to be looking at each other or whatever, but his presence makes me feel like i’m not alone. i’m not talking about companionship but like you know the feeling of being able to share someone’s joys and pains. ya it’s that kind of feeling. i don’t think i explained it very well but i think you somewhat get the gist of it. then he wanted to book a grab home for me even though i said it was ok and i can just take the train cus it was only about 1030pm anyway and there’s still trains available probably up to 11+ even!! i told him to save his money (cus he got his pay of 3 days! the company damn good sia i thought usually most companies will bring forward the extras to the next month) but he stubbornly refused and still wanted to book a grab home for me so i gave in and since i haven’t had dinner, i told him that i wanna singgah 7-11 for awhile to get something to eat.

initially i was looking at getting a tuna onigiri (number 1 fav onigiri filling!!) and then i saw garlic + cheese bread and i really like garlic bread as well even though your breath will stink for abit due to the garlicky flavor but lmao idc and thought of getting both the garlic bread and the onigiri. but then i walked around and saw nissin’s cup noodle which is my second fav brand of cup noodles for tom yum flavor!!!! super love because the soup base is spicy and sour and salty wah damn shiok la but i don’t think it can beat this other brand that i super love but idk the name of the brand cus its in another language lol i think chinese???? but it’s only sold at sheng siong outlets and it costs about 90cents per cup. fucking nice istg it’s the most spiciest tom yum/shrimp flavored cup noodles i have ever tried. if i can find it one day, i’ll remember to snap a photo of it! ok but ya so i ended up getting one cup noodle, the garlic bread and instant tteokbokki. tbh i want to spend all my money on 7-11 HAHAHAHHA i love instant fooooood so unhealthy but so good wth!!!! why do unhealthy food taste so good omg 

and then han grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the store cus he knows if we stay there any longer i might make impulse purchases on food haahahahahah

after that he booked a grab for me which i had to share with someone else apparently cus the person was already on the ride. tbh i don’t mind sharing but i don’t really like sitting in the front cus super leceh esp with my bulky bag all then still must put on seatbelt (ya ok i know actually should put on seatbelt at the back also just in case anything happens) but ya then i told han that if there’s only one rider i’m gonna sit at the back je. the grab came and then we quickly kissed and hugged each other goodbyes and yesss lol i sat at the back cus there was only one rider sitting on the left so i decided to just sit on the right instead of the front hahahahahhaha the guy inside was kinda shock that i chose to sit behind i think cus usually second riders would rather sit in the front than with another random passenger at the back but lol idrc. then the driver dropped me off first. i got home around 1130pm, the journey felt so long but yet so fast lololol but by the time i’m home, han already ko HAAHAHAHHA

it’s gonna be another working day for him tomorrow!! second day of the week, 3 more days to go :>

jiayou my sayang hehe i love you!!! <3

[useless-lesbian-canadian]

All the numbers ✨

this was almost mean in a way cause its so late but here you go, i dunno why youd wanna know all that about me but thanks for making me do them all i guess :P 

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?- tbh i dont even know, its been too long3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? - my mom, she’s coming to the city sunday. i miss her. 4. Are you easy to get along with? -i would like to think so yes, i try to be easygoing and nice so theres that. 5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? -no7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? - i mean i think id want to be, i doubt it would happen tho….8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? - honestly nobody..9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? - sorta, i mean i get that its so mainstream but I’ve never been one to talk about it unless its with someone I’m interested in and have know/had a connection to for a while. 10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? - someone who i no longer in my life so it doesn’t matter. 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? -“ lol am i supposed to support you eating them or stop you tho” to my cousin12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? -  Stay- Zedd & Alessia Cara, How Not To- Dan + Shay, Lights Down Low- Max Ft Gnash, Happier- Ed Sheeran and still giving it up for Closer- Chainsmokers & Halsey 13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? - if i like you yes, if i dont then dont touch.14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? - sorta, i believe in luck, and that I’m one of the unlucky ones, but not sold on miracles yet15. What good thing happened this summer? - i moved to Edmonton! YAY16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? - fuck i dont recall who that was, but i think it was a friendly weird drunk thing so probably not. 17. Do you think there is life on other planets? -yes to think otherwise is extremely stupid and arrogant to think humans are the only life out there18. Do you still talk to your first crush? - no, well i mean unless we’re in a group setting, 19. Do you like bubble baths? - i love baths in general, I’m sad i only have a shower right now :( 20. Do you like your neighbors? - i dont know them, i dont like where they park their car tho21. What are you bad habits? - uh I’m bad at texting back, sometimes i dont think before i speak/type, 22. Where would you like to travel? - the world, Greece, Ireland, Switzerland, Australia 23. Do you have trust issues? - oh fuck yeah, ill admit to that,24. Favorite part of your daily routine? - sleeping?? 26. What do you do when you wake up? - either check my phone or get something to drink27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? - a little darker, my family was making fun of me a couple weekends ago cause i look like a ghost in our family photo28. Who are you most comfortable around? - my family and cousin and our friend group29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? - ha, haha hahaha that would require them to use words to break up and not just ghost away out of my life forever. 30. Do you ever want to get married? - maybe, if i find the right person. 31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? nope not at all32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? - tbh idk, I’m more on the demisexual scale here and i dont really think of sleeping with random people including celebrities 33. Spell your name with your chin. no I’m too tired34. Do you play sports? What sports? - soccer and basketball for fun with the fam 35. Would you rather live without TV or music? -tv, i need music to live36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? - uh i dont think so37. What do you say during awkward silences? - ramble or ask weird or lame questions 38. Describe your dream girl/guy? - nice and kind with a good sense of humour, has to have some smarts and be a little more mature, but still can fool around. 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? -hollister, their jeans are great, winners, warehouse one, 40. What do you want to do after high school? I’m way past high school, still dont know41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? - yes but not on everything. 42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? - i could just be observing, or I’m a little sad, or maybe I’m uninterested in the topic43. Do you smile at strangers? - i try to44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? oh fuck uh ocean i guess45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? - the need to have money to stay living 46. What are you paranoid about? -nothing really i dont think47. Have you ever been high? -nope48. Have you ever been drunk? - yup, wish i was right now49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? - not that i know of51. Ever wished you were someone else? - sorta, wished i was different than i am 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?  - everything53. Favourite makeup brand? -…….. moving on 54. Favourite store? - walmart cause its cheap and I’m poor55. Favourite blog? - oh uh idk56. Favourite colour? -blue or purple57. Favourite food? -pizza58. Last thing you ate? - mcdonalds chicken burger59. First thing you ate this morning? - left over wings, so unhealthy but I’ve had a bad week sue me 60. Ever won a competition? For what? i won the music award for highest mark in school. 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? -nope i was a good little nerd62. Been arrested? For what? -nope 63. Ever been in love? - yup, do not recommend 64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? - it was with my best friend we were 15 in my basement, he was to shy so i kissed him first it was nothing special, turns out I’m gay as fuck65. Are you hungry right now? - nope66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? - ……..67. Facebook or Twitter? - twitter68. Twitter or Tumblr? -tumblr69. Are you watching tv right now? -no70. Names of your bestfriends? - like irl, Sam, Haley, Zach Cassidy, Des71. Craving something? What?- a relationship that lasts 72. What colour are your towels?- blue, and i have a hudsons bay one that is HB colours72. How many pillows do you sleep with? - 4 73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? - yup gotta have melman with me74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? - uh under 20 but thats all I can say 75. Favourite animal? - puppy! 76. What colour is your underwear? -navy blue77. Chocolate or Vanilla? -choco!78. Favourite ice cream flavour? -choco or cotton candy79. What colour shirt are you wearing? -grey and it says hog wars 80. What colour pants? - no pants81. Favourite tv show? -atm survivor 82. Favourite movie? - ghostbusters but then new one obvs 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? - mean girls is that even a question?84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? - mean girls85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? - Glen Coco86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? - Dory87. First person you talked to today? - my cousin88. Last person you talked to today? - my cousin, we’re roommates so...89. Name a person you hate? -Trump90. Name a person you love? - my mom91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? - eh sorta, i like punching thins when I’m in a bad mood but i dont because that not healthy 92. In a fight with someone? -nope93. How many sweatpants do you have? - uh 4/594. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? - uh 10 maybe95. Last movie you watched? - Moana 96. Favourite actress? - oh shit uh atm melissa mcarthy 97. Favourite actor? - ryan reynolds 98. Do you tan a lot? i burn99. Have any pets? no my dad does tho i count them sometimes 101. Do you type fast? - yeah sometimes 102. Do you regret anything from your past?- a lot of shit man, way to much. 103. Can you spell well? - nope this is just a fact 104. Do you miss anyone from your past? - you know what no, they dont deserve it 105. Ever been to a bonfire party? - all the time, I’m a country kid at heart106. Ever broken someone’s heart? - i dont think so107. Have you ever been on a horse? -no horses scare me 108. What should you be doing? - sleeping109. Is something irritating you right now? - sorta 110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? - hahahahah fuck off yes111. Do you have trust issues? - didn’t i answer this already???112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? - probably all my fam at my great grandmas funeral 113. What was your childhood nickname? -Cera after the triceratops from land before time 114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? - yup to Italy, LA, and British Columbia 115. Do you play the Wii? - used to 116. Are you listening to music right now? -nope 117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?- yes 118. Do you like Chinese food? - yes119. Favourite book? - i can’t remember its name but its gay as fuck 120. Are you afraid of the dark? -nope121. Are you mean? - i dont think so122. Is cheating ever okay? - no never 123. Can you keep white shoes clean? - for some time yes 124. Do you believe in love at first sight? -no125. Do you believe in true love? - idk it constantly changes, sometimes 126. Are you currently bored? -nah not really127. What makes you happy? - music, my family, food 128. Would you change your name? - no 129. What your zodiac sign? - leo130. Do you like subway? - yes131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? - too bad bro I’m gay 132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? - this was already a question stop repeating 133. Favourite lyrics right now? - Yeah, you're worth the heartbreak and the regret But I don't know how not to Think about you When it's late at night and quiet134. Can you count to one million? - yes135. Dumbest lie you ever told?- a guy asked if i was single while i was working so i said no because fuck if I’m gonna deal with that 136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? - closed137. How tall are you? - 5'5138. Curly or Straight hair?- its wavy 139. Brunette or Blonde? -im a blonde, tend to like the brunettes tho 140. Summer or Winter?- summer141. Night or Day? - night142. Favourite month? - august 143. Are you a vegetarian?- nope144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? -milk145. Tea or Coffee? - neither 146. Was today a good day? -it was ok 147. Mars or Snickers? - snickers 148. What’s your favourite quote? - its song lyrics but “beauty goes deeper than the surface” aka half of my tattoo 149. Do you believe in ghosts? - oh hell yeah