#i will elaborate if you ask me (maybe if i remember im like so tored) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taelme · 4 years ago

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Enemies-to-lovers!Changbin

request: Hiiiii I read you bangchan enemies to lovers au and I swear if I could like a post more than once I'd like that one a MILLION TIMES I'm wondering if maybe you could write an enemies to lovers au for changbin pretty please? 🥺🥰 genre: enemies-to-lovers!au (again, not Super extreme, low-key clash bc they’re both stubborn), film club president!Changbin, childhood penpal!au (fluff, very mild angst, they bicker a lot, kind of cheesy bc changbin’s a sap and we know that) pairing/s: Changbin / Reader (ft some skz members) word count: 17k+ tw: mild coarse language (they say shit a lot LOL) a/n: THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS...IM PRETTY SURE you waited months for this so thank you for being so so so patient!! I decided to try something a little different from my usual style but idk if it’s That Obvious, but its more structure wise I guess, but nonetheless, I'll be getting a little busier soon so I’m not sure If I'll be able to put out Full one shots for the next few months but I'll try my best w those little shorter ones maybe! (I'll have to see how Tired I am) also p.s I love this gif thank u to whoever made it but changbin is blonde in this fic bc of Personal Reasons

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

I had a good day today. Sorry if the paper is crunchy I am writing this on my bed because my mom thinks I am already asleep. Today I went out with my mom and we went to the park and ate some sandwiches at the park. We had a picnic but with no juice because my sister finished everything. And then we went to the toy shop after lunch. I saw a keychain of a camera and bought it for you because you like acting and cameras can take a video of you acting.

This is a picture of me next to the wishing well at the park, you cannot see it but i’m making a peace sign. I threw a coin in the well and made a wish that your audition will be good. I know you will do very well because you practiced a lot for it. That’s all. I’m a bit tired now. Goodnight, or good morning if you are reading this in the morning. Or afternoon.

I hope i’ll be hearing from you soon, Binnie.

“So, do you wanna keep them? If not I can chuck them together with the rest of your old things,” your mom began, already reaching over to take the letter from you.

Your eyes widened just as quickly, shaking your head quickly as you gripped the envelope and its contents behind your back away from her reach.

“No, no. Don’t throw them away,” you said sternly, softening your gaze when you noticed the way her eyebrows had raised in amusement, embarrassment washing over your features.

“I’ll keep them. Gimme the box.”

Your mom set the beaten looking converse shoebox down onto the table, shaking her head at you as a small chuckle escaped her. Mental note to transfer the letters to a smaller (and more durable) box.

“Alright, alright,” she waved her hands at you in dismissal, “hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”

She shut the door behind her with a light thud, leaving you to stare at the grainy polaroid your childhood penpal had sent you when you both were only eight and still exchanging letters every week.

Inhaling deeply, you shoved the polaroid picture back into the envelope, slipping it into the box of envelopes before getting up. You figured that was a box you wouldn’t have the time to delve into when you were already keeping Jisung waiting.

Driving as fast as you could (or as fast as you dared to) within the speed limit, you’d reached your campus soon enough. It wasn’t that long of a drive and it would be even shorter (walking distance to be specific), when you move into your apartment nearer to campus in a few days. But that didn’t change the fact that you were running late now, spotting Jisung standing by the fountain with a sour look on his face that had only deepened once he’d spotted you.

Before an utterance of apology could leave you, Jisung had pursed his lips, stretching out his hand that held your cup of drink, a small hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“I’m starting to wonder which one of us has worse time management,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head with feigned disappointment as he glanced at his nonexistent watch on his wrist.

Jisung was one to talk, for sure. His crumpled looking shirt over baggy cargo pants and a hat to cover his head of messy hair told you his journey to school wasn’t exactly ‘leisurely’ either.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste, “it’s definitely you. I was only late today ‘cause my mom was showing me my old stuff she found in the storeroom.”

Jisung waved you off, “fine, whatever,” he fished his phone out of his pocket as you started walking towards the auditorium for a class you were both dreading.

“Oh, shit, Hyunjin says the professor’s already in class, we should hurry up.”

Quickening your pace, you were glad to have reached before your professor had started, Jisung directing you towards where Hyunjin was seated at the side of the auditorium, giving him a small nod as you sat down.

Not that Hyunjin noticed anyway, the said boy busy with messaging someone on his phone with a frown on his face.

“What are you doing?”

Jisung peered over Hyunjin’s shoulder, frankly not wanting to focus on the lesson as the professor played a video on boring business things he figured he could just ask you for later.

Hyunjin sighed, setting his phone down onto the table and pushing his laptop open further, going to his email with quick clicks on his trackpad, “gotta send the scene for the auditions later to Changbin.”

“Oh, for that film thing?” Jisung asked, earning a nod from Hyunjin, whose eyebrows furrowed as they remembered your presence.

“Y/N should audition,” Hyunjin nodded his head towards you, his mention of your name distracting you momentarily, but you’d brushed it off quickly as you tried to take down whatever your professor was rambling on about.

At your lack of response, Jisung nudged your shoulder with more force, “hey, did you hear what Hyunjin said?”

You tore your gaze reluctantly from your professor as your fingers finished typing whatever you had left in your memory, the confused look on your face prompting Hyunjin to take over.

“We’re having auditions later for the movie the film club’s gonna be making,” he started, nodding slowly as his eyebrows raised, “I was saying you should join, you’d be good for the role.”

You narrowed your eyes at Hyunjin, “what’s it about?”

Jisung huffed, “some cheesy penpal shit, the last I heard.”

Your quirked an eyebrow at that, Hyunjin rolling his eyes.

“Something like that, but it’s not super romantic. They’re childhood penpals who meet again in the future but they don’t end up together, I don’t know how to explain it to you as well as Changbin can, but will you come anyway?”

You scrunch your nose as you consider his offer.

Was there anything you needed to prepare? You didn’t even know exactly what you were signing up for. Or much less anyone in the film club. Well, other than Hyunjin, of course.

“Is there any script I'm supposed to prepare with?” you asked, making Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise, his lips parting in realisation.

“I’m pretty sure it depends on what role you want…” he trailed off, making you scoff.

Not being able to help the laugh from escaping you, you narrowed your eyes at him, “you sound like you’re not even in the club.”

Hyunjin flashed you a sweet smile, “you know what? I’ll just send you what I sent Changbin. You can just prepare with that! Penny’s role!”

Jisung snorted, his hand coming up in a poor attempt to stifle his giggles.

“Penny? Is it because...she’s a pen pal?”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, finding it awfully amusing as well.

Hyunjin frowned, scrunching his nose up in distaste, “we couldn’t think of anything better, okay?”

You huffed, lower lip jutting out in a small pensive pout. You didn’t have much going on in terms of school productions as of now, anyway, you guessed there would be no harm in showing some support for Hyunjin.

“What time are the auditions?”

“They start from lunchtime until like five,” Hyunjin tried his best to recall, looking at you with his best pleading gaze.

Sighing again, you nodded, “this is my only class for today.”

Hyunjin was practically beaming now.

“Perfect.”

===

“I don’t like it.”

Hyunjin sputtered over his sip of coffee, an incredulous expression on his face, attracting looks from the other film club members in the dance studio. Excusing himself, he’d made his way outside, oblivious to the squeals and stares the girls waiting to audition were directing towards him, settling himself in the middle of the field outside the dance studio.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t like it’?” he asked you again, his eyebrows furrowed as curiosity took over him.

You sighed, rolling your shoulders back as you nodded at one of your teachers you were walking past, your grip relaxing on your phone as your arm had started to get tired.

“I mean, I read through the script, and something about Penny’s character just doesn’t sit right with me,” you told him, “it just… doesn’t make sense for her to come to that conclusion when she’d been having a perfectly good time with the guy before that, you know?”

Pausing, you’d waited for him to respond, his silence prompting you to continue with your elaboration.

“Okay, I’ll put it this way,” you started, adjusting your grip on your laptop in your arm, “If I were a reader, or like, a viewer in this case, I would wanna be able to pick up on these small moments or signs that Penny is actually thinking about her relationship, do you know what I mean? Because now the way it looks is that she’s just a plot device meant to hurt him, and that there’s no exploration of the development of their relationship at all.”

Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, “Okay, I know, I know, but the thing is… this was Changbin’s idea, and I don’t know if you’ve heard—I mean, you probably have, but… nobody really questions him.”

You hummed, following Hyunjin into the school building and tugging your coat tighter around yourself, the cold air in the building shocking you as you entered.

“Yeah, I get that, but you’re forgetting that I don’t have the same relationship with this Changbin guy that you guys do. I don’t mind telling him that I have a problem with it. I don’t wanna be acting out some two-dimensional love interest character if I can help it.”

Hyunjin grimaced, not seeming to be too keen on your insistence, “I really think it might be a little late for him to change the script.”

“It’s never too late.”

“Well to Changbin it could be!” Hyunjin insisted, making you roll your eyes, a small chuckle leaving you.

You huffed, “I still think the audience deserves a better film with better crafted characters.”

Hyunjin let out a sound in between a sigh and a groan, “Okay fine, you just have to make sure you get the role, and then you’re free to argue with Changbin all you want. Deal?”

“Deal,” You turned the corner and spotted Hyunjin standing in the middle of the field, already making his way back to the dance studio.

“Okay,” he spoke before you could end the call, “I gotta go, see you later.”

You didn’t expect there to be so many people at the auditions, mostly girls and just a handful of guys. Though you seemed to piece the uneven ratio together when you saw the not-so-furtive stares the girls would cast in Hyunjin’s direction whenever he’d peek his head out from the crack in the door to call the next person in.

You recognized one of the guys who’d come in later than you, one of Jisung’s upperclassmen friends whose name was Minho.

“Didn’t think i’d see you here,” he gave you a small smile as he took a seat next to you.

Shrugging in response, you let out an awkward huff of laughter, not used to talking to him about anything other than his cats and Jisung’s whereabouts.

“Yeah… well, Hyunjin asked me to come, so I figured I might as well,” you fiddled with the slip of paper with the scene printed on it, “not like I had anything better to do, anyway.”

Minho nodded slowly, leaning closer to you and dropping his voice to a murmur, “I’ve never seen any of these girls before.”

You huffed, “I’m pretty sure most of them are here for Hyunjin.”

“Oh yeah, makes sense,” Minho hummed, a small lilt of amusement to his tone, “where is he, anyway? He told me he would be here—”

Minho’s question was answered when the girls beside the both of you had erupted into harsh whispers and murmurs, tapping each other excitedly as Hyunjin could be seen through the window panel in the door, looking on seriously as one of the girls inside the room was auditioning.

You huffed, gesturing to the window.

“Found him.”

Inside the room, Changbin was distracted.

He knew he had a certain image in his head about what he wanted ‘Penny’ to be. But whatever the girls that had auditioned so far had been showing, that dramatic ‘i never loved you!’ emotion, that wasn’t exactly it. And it didn’t help either that they struggled letting go of the dramatics when Chan would prompt them to try a different angle.

Hyunjin cast a (mildly concerned) look at Changbin, trying to gauge his expression, figuring the pointed look Changbin had sent his way was enough to say he didn’t think this girl would be shortlisted.

“Who’s next?” Chan leaned over in his seat to peek at the clipboard of names of signups, Changbin leaning back in his seat and pushing the clipboard towards him, not finding it in him to be able to be more hopeful about the next person.

“Oh, Y/N,” Chan hummed, nodding with an impressed expression on his face, the name catching Changbin’s attention, “that’s cool, didn’t think they’d audition.”

“Y/N?” Changbin echoed, something about the name awfully familiar to him, yet not being able to make the connection in his memories yet.

So for now, he’d simply gestured to Hyunjin to signal that he could send the next girl in, Chan sweetly thanking the girl that had just auditioned as she left the room.

Making your way into the room, you scanned the ‘panel’ of judges.

You recognized Chan, the said pale-faced boy looking even more tired when he’d yawned as you made your way to the centre of the room. He came to your school productions often since he and Felix were friends, and Felix was always involved in some way or another. The other boy, though, you didn’t think you’d seen before.

The two of them seemed to exude completely different auras, with Chan smiling warmly at you and gesturing for you to come closer while the other boy sat with his arms folded across his chest, frowning at you as though you were a code to decipher.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here,” Chan broke the silence first, giggling.

You shook your head, “honestly didn’t think i’d sign-up either.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile, rocking back on your heels as you glanced at the boy next to him again, “I actually only heard about it from Hyunjin this morning,” you admitted, Hyunjin flashing Chan a grin from behind you as if to say ‘you’re welcome’.

Changbin cleared his throat, making Chan perk up.

“Right, sorry. So, we’ve obviously met but this is our club’s president Changbin,” he gestured to the boy sitting next to him.

Changbin nodded curtly, bringing his hand up to run it through his bleached hair and shoving his cap back on his head with habitual movements.

Now you were starting to understand why Hyunjin was so intimidated by Changbin, always having heard stories about him but only now being able to put a face to the name.

Nodding slowly, you gave him a smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

Changbin had to stop himself from faltering, his breath hitching when he realised why your name was so familiar.

After all, it had been the first candidate before they’d decided to go with ‘penny’. He wondered how cruel fate was to have brought you, someone with the same name as the person he’d practically based this story on, to be auditioning for the very role.

You tried not to be offended by the way Changbin had simply nodded at you, straightening up in his seat, “and you’ll be auditioning for the role of…?”

Would it hurt him to smile?

You inhaled deeply, trying to hide your amusement as you answered him, “Penny.”

Changbin nodded, Chan humming as he looked up from his copy of the script to give you another reassuring smile.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready. I’ll be taking the lines of the male lead,” Chan told you.

You understood that the scene was some sort of scene where the two romantic leads have some sort of confrontation, and you did your best to get into what you imagined Penny would be feeling, Chan reading the line asking if ‘penny’ had even loved him at all. Dramatic was the word to describe it, really.

You softened your gaze, unintentionally letting it rest on Changbin but deciding to let it stay there, executing your lines all the while trying to ignore the way Changbin’s stare was unnerving you, making you want to prove to him that you were a good actor even though he hadn’t questioned your acting skills.

Hyunjin had been watching the exchange closely, Changbin’s grip on his pencil loosening as he’d let the pencil fall softly against the table.

Changbin wondered if it was some sort of coincidence, because whatever ‘it’ was that he’d been looking for in Penny’s character, you’d managed to convey almost perfectly.

And it was clear that Chan had felt the same way as well, since once your audition was over, the smile on Chan’s face was nothing but beaming.

Once you’d left the room, Hyunjin telling you that they would contact you by the next morning, Chan had turned to Changbin, the same stupid smile on his face.

“That was great!” he nudged Changbin, the younger boy still recovering from the shock of the coincidence of it all, managing to muster a small huff in response.

“Yeah,” Changbin reached over to grab his water bottle, prolonging his silence as he took a long sip, “I don’t think we’d even need to see the rest.”

Chris scrunched his nose up, grinning, “but you know we still will, of course. Just in case.”

Changbin sighed, glancing at the clock, agreeing with Chan even though he knew he’d already had his mind made up.

“Yeah, just in case,” Changbin mumbled, looking out the window and seeing you talk to Minho, tearing his gaze away and rolling his shoulders back.

“Okay, send the next one in.”

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I’m okay. I like the picture you sent me of you using your scooter. My mom says you look nice. I think so too.

Today I went to the museum and I ate an ice cream for lunch. I don’t have a picture of it but it was a Strawberry ice cream.

I just finished reading your letter. Sorry to say it using a bad word, but i think what your sister did was stupid. I think you should still tell her to ask for permission to use your scooter. But if she still does not listen, maybe you should tell her again. Because my mom always tells me that if I want something, I have to ask for it. So you should do that. Maybe she does not know you don’t like it when she plays with your scooter. Or, you could buy a new scooter. Here is some money so you can buy a scooter. I drew you $50 because that is a lot of money. I hope you have a good day when you read this.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

You weren’t the world’s kindest human alive, you had your petty moments. I mean, there were so many songs and literature and movies that highlighted that idea that no human was perfect, right? But you tried your best, surely.

So, you’d gladly complied when Hyunjin asked you to grab extra cups of coffee for Chan and Changbin (as reluctant as you were. You were strapped for cash as it was).

You figured that was the least you could do before the trouble you were about to cause the both of them. But hopefully, if office etiquette was anything to go by, the simple gesture would show that you were kind, and someone who appreciated the offer given to you, as much as you hated the superficiality of your character.

However, when you showed up at the room, you were reminded that Changbin wasn’t just anyone. And while Chan made his appreciation known, Changbin… was the same as ever. Intimidating, and very hard to read. The sight of it almost made you want to take back his coffee.

He wasn’t wearing a hat today. Instead, he’d let his blonde hair (which looked darker since the last time you saw him, or maybe it was just his dyed-black undercut) fall messily over his forehead in a slight side part.

His black shirt did nothing to hide his physique, every movement of his coming across as a subtle flex, making you have to remind yourself time and time again that you weren’t exactly here to fawn over him.

He would lean back in his seat, scrolling through whatever he was looking at in his phone with one hand, his other hand draped over his stomach and propped underneath his elbow to support it. The way he would look made it seem as if he was almost oblivious to the world around him, only paying attention to what was on his phone until he would laugh at something Chan said, Chan being the only person you’ve seen that managed to elicit seemingly uncharacteristic giggles from him.

Though it wasn’t as if you were given much time to get used to it. The moment Chan had murmured something in his ear, his expression had switched back to ‘strictly business’.

Chan straightened up, looking around the room with his eyebrows slightly raised in question, one hand adjusting the braided leather bracelet around his wrist

“So, shall we get started then?” Chan asked, gesturing to Changbin before typing away at his laptop.

Changbin took his cue, getting up from his seat and making his way around the table to the front of the room, pulling the overhanging screen up to reveal the whiteboard.

“So, first of all, we’ve finalised the actors playing the characters,” he gestured towards you and Minho, “Minho as Soobin and Y/N as Penny. So, we can start shooting about next week. I would say we’re working with a pretty loose deadline because we don’t have to submit it until a few months from now.”

Changbin rolled his shoulders back, his body language seeming fairly relaxed although his expression remained serious nonetheless, “but that doesn’t mean we should slack, obviously.”

His statement elicited a small groan from Hyunjin, who muttered a ‘figures’ under his breath, making you stifle your giggles for Changbin’s sake.

“But we will start with maybe going over the script once through, go over the technical stuff after we get any issues with the flow out of the way.”

He looked as though he were going through a mental list of things to cover, his gaze flickering momentarily to Hyunjin, as if his face would give him answers to the invisible question in his head.

“The people in charge of the props, have you started preparing the letters?” Chan stepped in, earning a shake of the head from the two girls sitting next to Hyunjin, making Changbin wave a hand dismissively in their direction.

“They could start on that after we confirm the script,” Changbin leaned over the table to grab his cup of coffee, proceeding to take a long sip from it.

“Alright, let’s start then.”

Changbin took the empty seat he was standing next to, pulling his laptop closer to him to pull up the script.

Throughout the reading, you tried to keep your comments to yourself, you really did. It just fascinated you how fearful the team was of Changbin (well, aside from Chan), the way everyone seemed to bite their tongues or withhold their comments caused a permanent frown to be etched on your face.

It didn’t make it any better that Minho seemed to have no problems with the script, not even when you’d occasionally leant over to whisper to him and ask if he found that part a little weird or a little abrupt. But you held your tongue for now, (and also because of the side glance Hyunjin would cast your way whenever you would let out a small sigh), you wanted to give Changbin the benefit of the doubt, figuring maybe if he read through his script again he’d realise how one-sided it was.

But thankfully, when you were reading out the lines where the two main characters had ended their date, and on a particularly high note for that matter, it seemed the opportunity to voice your concerns about the script was presented to you when Changbin had spoken up.

“Okay, since the next scene onwards will be where their relationship breaks down, any questions so far?” He asked, though his tone didn’t sound like he was really asking for feedback. But, hey, an opportunity as an opportunity, wasn’t it?

You cleared your throat a little too harshly, raising up your hand as you leaned against the table to be seen better, “uh, actually, me? I mean, I have some feedback actually.”

Changbin looked at you curiously, his gaze landing on you with slight surprise, as if he hadn’t expected it to be you of all people. There was a slight hesitancy evident in the way he paused before giving you a short nod, prompting you to go ahead.

You smiled, ignoring the way Hyunjin had sighed deeply a few seats away from you, dreading the chaos that could have come with people like you and Changbin bumping heads.

“Well, it’s not really specific to this scene. It’s kind of about the whole flow of the plot in general…” you fiddled with the corner of the page you were on, “but I was thinking it would be better to show more of Penny’s point of view? You know, because when I was reading it it just felt a little… weird for them to suddenly break up if everything seemed to be going fine.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at you, looking back down at his computer with a simple dismissive shake of the head, “That’s not necessary, they’re going to break up anyway.”

The room had fallen silent, everybody seeming to have taken that as a ‘end of the conversation’ kind of line, already beginning to bring their attention to the next scene.

You frowned, unable to control your expression as you made your dismay obvious, casting a desperate look to Hyunjin who honestly looked as though he would pay you not to pursue this.

“But that’s not the point,” you spoke, getting Chan’s attention as he looked at you, silently urging you to continue, “you wanted to show their relationship, right? So, shouldn’t you show… both their parts in the relationship? Since it’s not like this is told in Soobin’s point of view.”

Changbin pursed his lips, “the point is,” he brought his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a small sip before continuing, “their relationship was superficial so it doesn’t matter.”

You mirrored his expression. The way it sounded was that he was just trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter.

Your frown deepened, quick to respond to him.

“That’s the thing, if you’re so insistent on them breaking up, why don’t you just make their relationship lead up to that? The way they’re interacting up to this scene makes viewers think they’re just going to end up together,” you tried to reason, hoping Changbin would understand where you were coming from.

Minho took that opportunity to excuse himself to the bathroom, and as you gave the rest of the film club members a once-over, you hated the way they were all looking at you as if you were cussing Changbin out instead of just giving him constructive feedback, or just voicing your thoughts for that matter.

“Well, not everyone gets a happy ending, I guess.”

He was practically avoiding your message at this point, making you grow more frustrated.

“Okay, look, what’s your intention behind making this film?” you asked, watching carefully as Changbin huffed, looking fairly amused at your insistence, which only served to irk you more.

“Simple,” he shrugged, “to show people like you that not everything that seems so perfect ends up perfect in the end.”

Your lips parted, scoffing, resisting the urge to get up from your seat as you heard Minho re-enter the room.

“People like me?” you echoed spitefully, “okay, fine, whatever. But as you said, if that’s the point of your discourse, shouldn’t your message be to tell people that they can work through things like this instead of just giving up and leaving like Penny did?”

Changbin was annoyed now. To him, you seemed too idealistic to understand his reasoning behind the story. He wondered why it had to be you that was telling him this, you were the only one that was trying to find problems with his story, that he’d based on his own life for that matter.

“Well what if she did, huh? What if Penny did just up and leave with no warning?”

You rolled your eyes, hearing Chan struggle to stifle his laugh, your exchange with Changbin being just about the most excitement he had in the whole school year.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “which is why I'm saying that your job as a storyteller is to shed some light on the reason behind that. Then your story wouldn’t be about showing how things don’t turn out the way they seem, it would just be telling you, but not showing you. You could just ask literally anybody to hurt Minho—”

“Soobin,” you heard Minho correct from beside you, making you huff, scrunching your eyes shut tightly before opening them harshly.

“—Yes, Soobin’s character, and it would be the same? The story wouldn’t show me anything other than the fact that it was Soobin’s fault he ended up that way. He didn’t question anything that happened, he just let it happen to him,” you sighed again, clenching your jaw, “Penny isn’t anything other than some 2-dimensional plot device designed as an excuse for Soobin to sulk about how cruel love is.”

Changbin scrunched his nose up, his brows knitting in annoyance as he stared at you, a silence falling again in the room. Changbin was about to interject when Chan had decided that would be a good time to step in.

“C’mon guys, let’s… calm down a little. We’re talking about penpals here, not the king’s lover betraying him.”

You cast Chan a questioning look at his example, making him shrug, continuing, “we’re running a little overtime anyway, we can just continue discussing this another time.”

Just like that, the rest of the film club members seemed eager to leave, either rushing for their next class or just not wanting to be in the same environment as an irritable Changbin.

Chan directed his gaze towards you as you were getting up from your seat, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sure Changbin will keep your points in mind, don’t worry,” he reassured you just as Changbin chimed in with a ‘no, I won’t’ behind him, leaving the room promptly afterwards, leaving you free to let out the frustrated groan you had been withholding.

“Thanks, Chan. Sorry I kind of made you guys overrun your time,” you sighed, watching Hyunjin making his way to you with wide eyes.

Chan shook his head, holding his laptop securely in one arm as he let out a burst of giggles.

“No, don’t apologize! I should be thanking you, I didn’t think about your point until you mentioned it just now,” he murmured, “but again, sorry about Changbin. He’s just a little… protective of his work.”

Hyunjin let out a low whistle from next to you, “Extremely.”

You nodded, shrugging, “It’s alright, I get it.”

Chan flashed you a smile, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Thanks, again. See you around.”

Leaving the room with Hyunjin, you ignored the way he’d begun to chuckle to himself, “honestly, in this whole time i’ve been in the film club, i’ve never seen Changbin actually… argue with someone.”

You rolled your eyes, kicking at the stray pebble “well if he continues like this, you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of it.”

“You sure seemed like you were having fun, though, weren’t you?” Hyunjin was being sarcastic, knowing he was just doing this to dissuade you, his tone eliciting a scoff from you.

You shook your head.

“You know for a fact I wasn’t. But it wouldn’t sit right with me if I just kept my mouth shut like you and the rest of your film club goons,” you shot him a pointed glare.

Hyunjin pressed his lips into a firm line, holding his hands up beside his head in surrender, prompting you to continue.

“If I want something done, I’m gonna ask for it. It’s as simple as that.”

===

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

Was your audition good? Thank you for the money. But $50 is a lot of money so I don’t think I should spend everything, my mom says I need to save money. Thank you for telling me what I should do, but in the end I didn’t buy another scooter. I did this because we were learning about needs vs wants in school and I think the scooter is a want. My teacher says this means I don’t really need it. But needs are things like colour pencils and pens and paper so I can write letters to send you. Maybe your mom tells you you cannot buy so many stickers because the stickers are a want and not a need.

Anyway, I think I can just let my sister take my scooter. Maybe I will just get another scooter for myself when I am older and I have more money.

I hope I will be hearing from you soon, Binnie.

As you said before, you weren’t perfect, but you surely did your best. But days like this you wondered if people like Changbin even tried.

After your interaction with said stubborn being during your meeting with the film club had put you in a bad mood, you were currently seated with Jisung in a booth at a popular burger outlet outside school, thankfully having managed to get a place in the midst of the anxious afternoon crowd. And even more thankful that you could eat your lunch in peace where you were very much away from Changbin.

“What did you say to him, again?” Jisung hadn’t bothered trying to hold in his laughter as he was almost shouting over the noise of the crowd, making you huff as you bit into your burger.

“I said it’s funny that he was talking so much shit about the main couple when he’s dedicating his entire movie to them,” you drawled, your annoyance returning as you recounted the spat you had with him during the small meeting you had with the film club just before lunch.

Jisung’s shoulders shook as he laughed, fumbling with his drink as his eyes shut tightly, giggles leaving him and seeming as though they would never end, “and that’s what you said word for word?”

You nodded, reaching over to press the lid of Jisung’s drink down firmer before he could spill it all over himself.

“I know you’re friends with him but I really don’t know how you work with this guy, he’s as stubborn as stubborn goes,” you huffed, taking another bite into your burger as Jisung’s laughter had died down, though his smile had only lingered.

“You’re worse,” he snickered, earning a glare from you.

Jisung remained unaffected, “Look, he’s honestly fine once you get to know him,” he tried to reason, sounding as though he were trying to convince a child to make friends, “I mean, we’re all still kind of wary around him when he’s in a mood but honestly, if not for the way you guys met, I’m pretty sure you two would get along well. He seems like he’s your type.”

Your eyes widened, scandalised at Jisung’s implication.

“The only thing he has in common with my exes is being annoying, okay?” you rushed to push away the curiosity of what Changbin would be like as a boyfriend. Curse Jisung and his stupid implication.

“And plus,” you continued, hearing the doorbell chime for what sounded like the thousandth time to signal yet another entry into the diner that was now overflowing with people asking for take-out, “it’s not like he’s been very nice to me since I got involved with his stupid short film.”

Jisung sighed, his gaze momentarily distracted by something behind you, making you wave your hand in front of his face to keep his attention. He’d glanced back at you, an almost dazed look in his eyes before he’d given you a small smile, taking a bite out of his burger and not waiting to finish chewing before he answered you.

“I honestly think that he just needs a little more persuasion. Like, take this for example, something similar happened with him and Chan when they were composing something in the past, and trust me, if you don’t give up now, i’m pretty sure he’d agree to come to a compromise or something,” he gave you a shrug, his gaze returning to whatever was behind you (probably someone cute, you figured). You couldn’t say you blamed him; almost all your conversations revolved around you and Changbin’s squabbles these days.

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at him, “you really think he’d be willing to rewrite his script?”

Your tone was skeptical, already imagining how Changbin would simply tell you to keep dreaming if you’d brought up the proposal to him.

At Jisung’s lack of response, you’d frowned slightly, seeing him turn back to you calmly as his smile widened, giving you yet another shrug.

“Maybe you can ask him yourself.”

If there was any feeling one would get just before something bad was about to happen, that was definitely what you were feeling now.

You didn’t dare to tear your gaze away from Jisung as you watched him turn his body, his hand coming up in a wave that had only turned into a hi-five, his behaviour only adequately described as boisterous as he welcomed the people you were hoping you wouldn’t have to see for another week until the next film club meeting.

Well, Chan was fine, you were simply referring to Changbin.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Didn’t know you and Jisung were friends,” Chan gave you a sweet smile, gesturing between you and Jisung as he spoke.

Jisung chimed in with a nonchalant “Best friends, actually,” which had only made you shoot him a glare.

“Might have to re-evaluate that,” you muttered, turning back to Chan and Changbin to give them as warm a smile as you could muster.

“Are you guys eating here too?” you asked.

You were oblivious to the way Changbin’s gaze flickered from your face to the food in your hand, and then back to Jisung, looking perfectly unaffected as he joked with Jisung about something you didn’t quite catch.

“Well, we wanted to, but, you know, with the crowd and all we probably won’t be able to get a seat,” Chan’s gaze was pitiful, to say the least, making Jisung raise his eyebrows, and that sinking feeling within you had only intensified as his next sentence left his lips.

Jisung had barely glanced at you as he held onto Changbin’s hand.

“Well, our booth’s actually meant to seat four people, so you guys could squeeze in if you want,” he offered.

Changbin quirked his eyebrow, skepticism written all over his features, though mostly directed towards you, “you guys really won’t mind?”

You glared at your burger, scrunching your nose up as you avoided Changbin’s pointed gaze.

Jisung scoffed, giving Changbin a loud smack on the arm, “of course we won’t, right Y/N?”

He turned to you, giving you a smile you could only describe to be devious (and fairly amused).

“Yeah,” your voice took a pitch higher unintentionally, “go ahead,” you murmured, scooting into the booth to make space for them.

You took another bite from your burger, watching out of the corner of your eye as Changbin took a seat next to Jisung, Chan excusing himself to retrieve both their orders.

“Funny that you showed up, actually. Y/N and I were just talking about your short film,” Jisung spoke, earning a pointed glare for you, as if daring him to continue (and you should’ve known that wasn’t going to faze him at all).

“Oh, were you?” Changbin drawled, his eyebrows raised and a slight smile playing at his lips, “I’m sure Y/N had a lot to say about that.”

As you were about to speak, Jisung had interjected with a little giggle, “she did.”

Changbin didn’t seem to take Jisung’s comment as an answer, simply keeping his gaze fixed on you, prompting you to produce an answer of your own. You ignored the knowing look Jisung gave you.

You sighed, “maybe I wouldn’t, if someone just took my suggestions.”

Changbin had let out a small huff at that, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest as Chan returned to the table with his and Changbin’s food, casting curious glances between the three of you seated at the table.

“Hope you guys didn’t fight while I was gone,” he joked, making you sigh, and you missed the pointed look he cast Changbin’s way when the boy had scoffed, “what were you guys talking about before I came?”

You shrugged.

“We were talking about the short film,” you told him, “kind of.”

Chan had perked up at that, turning to you as he handed Changbin his food, “oh yeah, I wanted to ask if you had more feedback about the scenes.”

You nodded, “I do, actually.”

Changbin’s gaze lifted from his burger to look at you as he sighed, “what is it now?”

You huffed, “It’s not that bad. I was just wondering if the content of the letters were gonna be read out during the scene? ‘Cause if it is, then maybe we could kind of make it a little more relevant to their personalities or something.”

“Will that be hard? What do kids even talk about in their letters?” Jisung laughed.

Changbin’s lips parted slightly before pressing them into a firm line.

“Well, they’ll be like 9 when they’re exchanging letters, I suppose, so I guess they’d at least know how to have a conversation… ” He sounded almost hesitant, making you wonder why he made talking about childhood penpals seem like such a complex thing.

You thought about your own penpal, Binnie. You were about that age when you were exchanging letters with him too, figuring you could give some insight on that until Jisung had intercepted.

“At that age all I did was talk about hot wheels, to be honest. Much less talk to girls,” he snorted, making you scoff, using your shoe to nudge his leg under the table.

Chan, who had been silently thinking, had straightened up abruptly.

“Wait,” Chan’s eyebrows lowered, frowning slightly as his lower lip jut out in a slight pout. He directed his attention to Changbin, pointing his index finger towards him, “didn’t you used to have a penpal?”

You had to stop yourself from making your shock too obvious, your eyes widening as your gaze became nothing but accusatory. How badly did his penpal experience go for him to be so cynical about it now?

Whatever it was, the newfound information made you curious as to exactly how much of the story he’d changed, more importantly, how much he’d retained.

“You?” you couldn’t help yourself from blurting, though Changbin remained unamused.

“Yeah, I did,” he bypassed your incredulous stare, answering Chan simply.

Jisung hummed, bringing one hand up to fiddle with his ear piercing, not having expected Changbin’s response.

“Oh, well, what was it like, then?”

Changbin shrugged, resting one of his forearms on the table to support himself, his other hand reaching down to pick up a fry, “was nice. We would exchange letters every week. Talked about a lot of things, sent each other pictures, you know, all that stuff.”

“Do you still keep in contact with them?” Chan asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, not having heard much from Changbin about this penpal in the entire duration of their friendship.

Changbin shook his head, “nope,” he popped the p, picking up his cup to swirl it around noisily, the ice rumbling as it got tossed around in the paper cup, proceeding to take a sip from it as the rest of you looked on curiously at him.

“Well, why not?” you dared to ask, a million different possible reasons running through your mind.

Maybe they did something to piss Changbin off, or maybe they got into a big fight (which also made you wonder how heated fights could get over snail mail), or maybe one of their parents disapproved of the other. The possibilities were endless as you anticipated just why 8 year old Changbin would’ve cut ties with his penpal. And maybe, you were enjoying the dramatic aspect of it a little more than you should’ve been.

But something about the way he replied felt restrained. Maybe you were reading into it too much, but he almost sounded evasive. But, of course, you chose to ignore (suppress) it for now, watching intently as Changbin had once again shrugged, an air of nonchalance to his gestures as he met your gaze.

“Just… grew out of it, I guess.”

You huffed, memories of your own penpal making his response sting.

You don’t think you ever ‘grew out’ of talking to binnie. You remembered how frustrated you were when you’d stopped hearing from him after he moved, and every letter you’d sent to his new address had only been returned back to you. Maybe he grew out of it, but you wouldn’t have left it like that if you had a choice.

You rolled your eyes at his response, something in your response seeming to have irked Changbin.

“What?” he snapped, making you hesitate just the slightest bit, deciding to bite your tongue and shake your head.

“Nothing.”

Chan let out a huff of laughter through his nose next to you, shaking his head at you goodnaturedly.

“Forgive us, you always seem like you have something more to say,” Chan spoke, apparent ‘damage control’ for Changbin’s abrasiveness.

“Wait, so, you’re really not gonna have a happy ending?” Jisung frowned.

“Well, Changbin and I were talking about it after the meeting that day, we figured since we have time we could afford to change the script a little,” he hummed, turning to you, “you know, since it could be a chance to kind of send a more hopeful message like you were talking about.”

Your eyes widened, your hand almost reaching out to touch Chan’s arm but realising you were still holding your burger, “really? You’re open to changing it?”

Changbin’s gaze flickered momentarily to you, observing your posture, noticing how open and comfortable you seemed with Chan, the sight alone enough to make him scoff. Call him a cynic, but he couldn’t tell if this was you acting or not just to get your way.

“There could be another meeting for you to discuss and work on the script together, but yeah, we’re alright with changing it.”

You turned to Changbin, a hint of distrust in your stare, making him huff again, putting down his drink on the table with a little too much force.

“He said it, not me,” he told you, pressing his lips firmly into a tight line, “you wanna change my script so badly? Fine. But your ideas better be worth changing it for.”

Jisung scrunched up his nose as you turned back to Chan, not wishing to look at Changbin’s face any longer, leaning over to whisper to Changbin, “you two don’t like each other very much, do you?”

If he was caught off guard by Jisung’s statement, he didn’t show it.

Changbin shrugged, picking his drink back up, “they started it.”

At the sound of his accusation, your eyes narrowed, turning to glare at Changbin, thankful for Jisung nudging you under the table before you could retaliate with a comment of your own. Chan simply casting you an amused look, his eyebrows raised in a silent question of what you were about to do.

You shook your head.

Whatever, you pushed your annoyance away in your head, as long as Chan was there during the rewrite meeting, you’d hopefully still be able to maintain your sanity.

Or at least, that was the hope that you were holding on to until that night when you’d gotten a text from Chan.

Chan 11:17pm - hey, i gave changbin your number if you don't mind... you know, since you guys have to discuss to rewrite the script and all -

You’d almost sat up from your bed in shock, frowning against the harsh light coming from your phone and the contents of the text, the latter obviously making you more disgruntled.

11:17pm - won’t you be discussing with us?? Why not just make a group chat??? -

Your heart was pumping with anxiousness as you awaited his reply, something about the sound of the clock ticking putting you in an even more anxious state, your heart almost sinking as texts from him and Changbin had come in at the same time.

You looked at Chan’s first.

Chan 11:18pm - oh i didn’t tell you? All script writing is done by Changbin. I’m just in charge of the other elements like props and directing and whatnot -

You shut your eyes, suddenly wishing you could travel back a few seconds back in time and not have checked your phone when Chan had texted you. Bringing your fingers across your screen reluctantly as you typed a reply to him.

11:18pm - ohhh hahaha right i forgot, thanks chan -

Now for the bigger menace at hand. You swiped over to Changbin’s message, your finger lingering on his chat as you decided to stop being petty and just open it.

seo changbin 11:18pm - just so you know, i’m doing this only because Chan asked me to. we can go over the changes at my house. is saturday okay with you? -

You pulled your notifications bar down. Tomorrow was Friday, and from what you knew you were pretty much free on Saturday. Fortunately or unfortunately for you.

You took another deep breath as you typed out your reply to him. For your own sanity, you tried to ignore the way he felt the need to clarify that he wasn’t doing it for your sake.

11:18pm - saturday’s fine. What time?-

Resisting the urge to go offline when you saw him come online, you felt as though you were in some sort of staring contest through your phone as you watched him type, his message coming in quickly.

seo changbin 11:18pm -1? We could order in and discuss -

You sighed, it wasn’t enough that he had to take away one peaceful lunch from you today, but yet another one on Saturday.

11:19pm -okay text me your address-

Another sigh left you when you read that the address he’d sent you was just a few blocks away from your apartment. Maybe he lived alone too; most of the apartments here were occupied by college students looking for affordable rent and shorter travel time.

seo changbin 11:19pm - don't be late -

You scoffed, shoving your phone back onto your bedside table as you slumped back against your pillow, burying your head into your pillow and kicking at your blanket that covered your feet uncomfortably.

Fine, if he wanted to be that way, that was fine by you. You would just do this for the sake of the short film. Yeah. That’s all it would be.

===

“Let’s make this quick and painless for the both of us,” you blurted the moment Changbin had opened his door to let you in, glad to see he was donning an outfit similar to yours (sweatpants and a t-shirt), your previous worries of being underdressed dissipating instantly.

He let out a sigh, his hand coming up to run it through his hair, his hair messy and sticking up at one place awkwardly, looking as though he’d slept on that side for too long.

“Hello to you too,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind you as he gestured to the living room.

You glanced around his rather plain apartment as he led you to the living room, his laptop resting on one of the cushions of the sofa, soft music verberating from the device.

“What food do you want?” he asked, earning a thoughtful frown from you as you set your things down on the floor next to the sofa, taking a seat on the other side of it.

“Fastest delivery would be if we order from that Chinese food place nearby, right?”

Changbin’s eyebrows quirked up in intrigue, “I was thinking of that place too,” he handed you his phone, letting you order what you wanted before handing it back to him.

It was otherwise silent between the both of you as you waited for the food to arrive, neither of you quite knowing how to break the silence. The tension slowly made you grow increasingly fidgety as time passed.

Changbin had sat down on the floor next to the coffee table, resting one hand on his soft rug as he pushed a stack of papers towards you, drawing your attention away from your soft copy of the script on your phone as you realised it was a hard copy of the script.

“Just use this, i’ve got a copy on my laptop,” he mumbled, making you nod, accepting it from him as you flipped to where you left off.

Changbin glanced at the clock, in disbelief that only 10 minutes had passed and yet he found himself feeling jittery at your silence. Turning his gaze towards you, he let out a small sigh.

He had expected you to say something by now, or let out some snarky comment about something he wrote. Your silence was unnerving him, it was almost as if he wanted you to say something, especially with the way you were scribbling notes beside the pages with a mechanical pencil he didn’t even recall seeing you take out.

“Which scene are you at?” he blurted, his anxiousness getting the better of him, making your head shoot up abruptly, surprised at his sudden outburst.

“Uh,” you glanced back down at the page, “I’m at the part where they find out they used to be penpals,” you told him.

“Okay,” Changbin murmured, thinking about where to go from there, momentarily distracted when he’d heard the doorbell ring. Pausing, he’d stepped out momentarily to retrieve your food, the rustling of bags getting louder as he neared the table.

Setting the food down on the table, surprising you when he’d pushed the food towards you, your surprise hadn’t gone unnoticed by Changbin.

“What?” he scoffed.

You shrugged, “nothing, just didn’t know you were capable of doing nice things,” you told him, a sarcastic lilt to your tone.

Changbin inhaled deeply, shooting you a patronizing smile as he broke his chopsticks, “anyway, I think we could start from there, since that’s kind of the turning point of their relationship.”

You nodded, pulling your food towards you as you began to eat.

“I was thinking,” you spoke, pausing to chew on your food, “this part has a lot of unanswered questions, like… I wouldn’t just let it go so easily if I found out someone was my penpal that I grew apart from. I felt like they should’ve had a bit more of a confrontation there.”

Changbin hummed, shocking you when he’d leant closer to you to look at the script, making you push it towards him, a small huff leaving him at your action.

“What questions do you think Penny would ask, then?” he asked you.

“I don’t know, maybe why they stopped talking in the first place?” there was a hint of sarcasm in your tone, making Changbin look at you over his mouthful of noodles.

“I told you already, Soobin grew out of it—”

You grimaced at his answer, your chopsticks halting before your mouth momentarily before you shovelled your noodles in with annoyance, “I don’t believe that.”

“I used to have a penpal, and I can guarantee you, the reason why we stopped talking wasn’t because we ‘grew out of it’,” you told him pointedly, having to stop yourself from growing too riled up about it, Changbin tensing up at your revelation.

Bringing his glass of water to his lips, he let his gaze wander around everything but you as he thought, curious as to what your penpal experience was like. Finally meeting your gaze, he almost sputtered over his water with how much he wasn’t paying attention to his actions, the only thing on his mind being to get his words out.

“You did?” It was pathetic, really, that that was all he’d come up with after such a long pause.

You nodded.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter, the story isn’t based on my penpal, it’s based on yours,” you attempted to draw the attention away from you, unsettling feelings of sourness building within you at the thought of how you left things.

“So, think. What would you be curious about?” you prompted him, seeing him purse his lips, a certain dazed look tinting his gaze.

Swallowing his mouthful of food, he looked at you as he thought. He would want to know if they were still passionate about acting, he would want to know how their family was doing, he would want to know if their personality had changed, if they were still the assertive ‘go after what you want’ character that had encouraged him so much. Or maybe, just how they are.

Changbin’s lips parted, shaking his head slowly, “... so many things,” he murmured.

An unexpected tension fell between the both of you, Changbin’s eyes meeting yours with a sort of unspeakable thoughtfulness, as if he was still thinking about your question.

You broke eye contact first, “write that, then. Who knows? Maybe they’re both as curious as the other.”

“You’re one of those glass half full people, aren’t you?” he huffed, making you click your tongue in annoyance.

“And what? You have no glass at all?” you retorted.

“Would you still be… curious too? Even If it didn’t end well?” he asked suddenly, a stupid question, Changbin thought, but still something he felt compelled to ask in the moment, as if he wanted the confirmation that you, someone with a penpal experience as well had shared the same sentiments as him.

You nodded, “of course I’d be. I could hate you and still be curious about you,” you shrugged.

“Me?” Changbin asked, making your eyes widen, the tension dissipating slightly as you shook your head vigorously, your hands coming up to wave at him dismissively.

“No no, not you. I meant-” you stopped yourself, glaring at him, “I just meant it as an example.”

And for what you were sure was the first time, Changbin had laughed, beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around you, his eyes forming narrow slits and the apples of his cheeks rounding slightly as he grinned, soft breathy giggles leaving him.

“Alright, I get it. It’s not a secret that you don’t like me.”

You huffed, not being able to help but feel the need to reassure him, “you’re not… that bad I guess. Jisung talks you up all the time.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to reassure him that you didn’t have a burning hatred for him, “you’re just stubborn as hell.”

He scoffed, “I could say the same about you.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, reaching over to flip the page, “glad to know we’re on the same page, then.”

“Now that you said it,” Changbin began, moving on quickly from your bickering as he shoved his empty food packaging aside, “I do think Soobin would be curious about the things they talked about in their letters.”

You perked up at that, eyebrows raising, “That reminded me, I actually still have some of the letters from my penpal when we were younger, if you want I can loan them to you for some inspiration or something.”

Changbin nodded, flipping over to another page before pausing to type something on his computer, “yeah, actually that would be useful.”

You continued to look at the script for what had become hours, the both of you deciding it would be easier if you each assumed one of the character’s voices, speaking on behalf of the characters as you discussed. Coming up with a ‘what would soobin/penny do?’ process.

All the while during this discussion, Changbin had been scribbling down in his beaten up journal, the sides of the spine of the book peeling off when he’d set it down on the table, making you grimace.

“Do you think Pe—”

“Why don’t you just get a new journal? This one’s making such a mess,” you blurted out, frowning at the way the little brittle pieces of God knows what material covered his notebook had fallen onto the coffee table, making him tear his gaze away from what he was writing, looking at the mess on the coffee table you were gesturing at and letting out an amused huff.

“Oh, didn’t notice,” he smiled, “but that won’t be necessary, this journal’s been serving me fine.”

“It’s literally falling apart,” you pointed out.

“And you’re literally exaggerating.”

You scoffed.

“I mean, look at it, it’s such a hassle to use, since you have to keep cleaning up whenever you do so much as touch it,” you reasoned, seeing him shake his head.

“I don’t need a new journal, I’m perfectly fine using this one,” he told you, making you scrunch your nose up in distaste, Changbin looking at you with amusement heavily laden in his smile.

It seemed that there was something about the hours of bouncing off ideas and bickering that warmed the both of you up more, not feeling as wound up or hostile towards each other as you did a few hours ago, bonding over a shared want for the short film to be good.

“What?” he asked, leaning back against the sofa and resting his arm on one of the cushions, his other hand grasping his fingers as he awaited your response.

“You sound exactly like my mom,” you had a sour look on your face, continuing, “I bet you’re one of those needs versus wants people.” You huffed in amusement, shifting in your seat as you flipped through the scene you were about to discuss.

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, a breathy huff leaving him, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, “You know, those people that decide on buying things through the concept of needing it or not.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, “yeah, like any other normal person.”

“It’s so boring! Ever heard of the concept of treating yourself?” you huffed, gesturing wildly. You were clearly very passionate about this.

Changbin shook his head, the smile lingering on his face, “I’m starting to understand why you’re Jisung’s friend. Sure, a treat once in a while is understandable, but i’d rather not waste my money on things I could do without.”

You huffed, a deep sigh leaving you, recalling a conversation you had with Binnie about his scooter.

“What’s up with boys and this need versus want thing? My penpal said the same thing even though he was only eight,” you mumbled, a small breath of laughter leaving your lips, leaving Changbin frowning at your statement.

Maybe other kids just talked about the same things he did with Y/N? He brushed the thought aside.

“He did?”

Changbin’s voice came out more hoarse than he’d intended, the intent in his stare making you falter momentarily, forgetting what you were doing just for a second.

Thankfully, you’d snapped out of whatever trance you were in, shaking your head dismissively, “nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

Changbin tilted his head at you, narrowing his eyes as he contemplated whether to pursue it or not, watching closely as you busied yourself with flipping pages just to look busy, even though the inside of your mind was spinning with an indescribable feeling that came with convincing yourself that the drift between you and your penpal was merely circumstantial.

You chewed on your lip, hating the way it felt as though your stomach was churning as you remembered the disappointment you felt when your letters had stopped getting sent through.

You were young, surely you shouldn’t blame yourself, you believed that. Your finger fiddled with the corner of the page, staring at Soobin’s dialogue.

‘Did our conversations even mean anything to you?’ the dialogue read, and you inhaled deeply as your head lifted to look at Changbin, your abrupt movement almost making him flinch in surprise.

“Why did you really stop talking to your penpal?” you sighed, curiosity getting the better of you. Though at this point you weren’t sure if it was curiosity or simply reassurance. Maybe even closure. All of which you needed to satisfy.

Changbin knew you weren’t going to accept his ‘grew out of it’ statement for an answer, deciding to be honest with you, you know, for the sake of the short film.

“I just… stopped hearing from them,” he began, heaving a sigh of his own as he shifted in his seat, picking at the imaginary dust on his sweatpants, “guess they had nothing to say.”

You couldn’t lie about it, you felt relieved. A part of you began to understand why he’d painted Penny’s character out to be like that, or furthermore why Soobin had seemed so affected by the revelation.

“Nothing to say…” you echoed, as if trying to wrap your head around his reasoning as well.

A small huff of amusement left him, though there was a hint of bitterness in his smile.

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know.”

He took his lower lip between his teeth, letting it go and you watched as the blood rushed back into his lips, looking redder than before.

Your eyebrows knit into a frown, “Wouldn’t have minded what?”

Changbin met your gaze, giving you a resigned shrug, “hearing it,” he continued, “nothing, everything.”

You could almost feel your heartbeat slowing down, the tense silence returning in the room and making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Now that was some dialogue.

“Oh,” you broke the silence, your blank expression reading pure shock, your reaction catching Changbin off guard, “write that down, that’s such a Soobin thing to say.”

Changbin couldn’t do anything but laugh, shaking his head at you, “how opportunistic of you,” he teased, though he wrote it down nonetheless.

Maybe you being here was good, Changbin thought, it reminded him not to take himself too seriously sometimes.

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I hope you are not still sad about your friends. I would tell you not to listen to them but i know that’s difficult sometimes because you can hear everything they say. But they were being very mean so they are not nice people. I don’t agree with what they said, because i think you are very nice and you have a nice smile. I don’t think you are scary. Sometimes my mom tells me i should smile more so people think i’m happy but I think you should just smile if you are happy. If you are sad then you can be sad. It is not a bad thing. I’m your friend because you’re nice to me and I like talking to you. If they’re going to be mean to you then they’re not your friends. If they do that to you again you can tell me their address and I will go and tell them myself!

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N

You’d shown up on the filming set on the first day absolutely buzzing from head to toe and ready to go (though, when you told Jisung about how you felt he’d insisted it was because of the lack of substantial sleep and the cans of energy drink you’d both drank the night before while he was helping you prepare your lines), but it seemed that everyone on the set was more tense than ever.

You found Hyunjin huddled with a few of them next to the sound cart, deciding to approach them to ask where Changbin was, having bought a coffee for him along the way.

“Hey,” you called, Hyunjin jumping in shock as he turned, his hand over his heart as he winced at you.

“Why do you move so quietly!” he groaned, making you dismiss him with a wave.

“Did something happen? You guys look stressed,” you took a step towards them, possible reasons fluttering around in your mind but none seeming quite appropriate for the context you were in. Maybe the semester’s GPA results were out?

“Whatever, do you guys know where I can find Changbin?” The boy next to Hyunjin, a freshman by the name of Jeongin had sucked in a sharp breath at your question, making you grow even more confused.

“He’s… a little tense these days, so I’d suggest being a more careful around him,” Chan explained, earning nods of agreement from the film club members.

Your eyebrows raised, confusion showing in a slight pout on your lips. You didn’t remember him behaving out of the ordinary when you’d seen him the day before.

“Where’d he go?”

“He’s over there,” Chan pointed towards where the camera was set up and true enough, you saw Changbin seated at a bench there busying himself with his phone.

Nodding, you’d made your way over to Changbin, discomfort growing within you at the stares you were getting from the club members (some of which you didn’t even know the names of) as you made your way towards the blonde haired boy. It was a wonder why they all avoided him like the plague.

Changbin seemed to have sensed your presence, looking up from his phone and giving you a small wave as you reached the bench, sitting down next to him and holding out his cup of coffee.

Accepting it gratefully, he’d given you a nod.

“Thanks,” he glanced at your hands, “you didn’t get one for yourself?”

You let out a small burst of chuckles, “nope, figured it wasn’t the most logical thing to do since i’m already pretty alert from last night’s energy drinks.”

Changbin sucked in a sharp breath, clicking his tongue in teasing disapproval, “I figured as much, Jisung was way too hyper when I met him at the studio.”

Your expression was sheepish, “I’d say I was sorry but it was... important.”

Changbin huffed, “It’s alright, as long as you’re taking care of yourself.”

Before you could react to his statement, Changbin had acted as though he hadn’t said anything, an amused smile playing at his lips as he tore his gaze away from you, looking forward as he took a sip from his cup, “ready to film today?”

You nodded, regaining your bearings, trying not to think too much of his words.

“Pretty much, you?”

Changbin nodded, “yeah, even though we still have a little bit of the script left, I would say i’m pretty confident.”

You glanced behind Changbin, spotting Hyunjin looking at the both of you with sheer disbelief, making you roll your eyes, turning back to Changbin, angling your body on the bench so you could hug your knees to your chest, looking at him curiously.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded, looking at you with confusion written in his features, clasping his hands around his coffee cup as he rested his hands on his lap, “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe it was just his resting bitch face.

“Smile,” you commanded, nodding your head when he’d looked even more confused.

You watched in amusement as Changbin had laughed, shaking his head before looking at you with an all too sarcastic smile, his hand coming up in a peace sign next to his cheek, a smile unknowingly making its way onto your face at the sight.

“Okay now, don’t smile,” you continued.

Changbin had let his smile fall, looking just the same as he did when you’d shown up, making you press your lips into a firm line, a slight knit in your brows as your eyes narrowed.

Turning his head, he straightened up.

“Cool, Minho’s here,” he said, getting up and holding a hand out to help you up.

“Thanks,” you muttered, not expecting him to turn around and give you a smile.

“Let’s go, Penny.”

It was strange to you that there was something that felt so familiar about his smile, it reminded you of something that made you feel nostalgic. You liked seeing him smile. Changbin had a nice smile.

You brushed the thought away, nodding as you took his hand, letting him help you out.

“What, so you guys don’t hate each other anymore?” Jisung groaned later on that same week when you’d told him about the exchange you had.

He lifted his head from where he lay on your bed, “God, with you guys it’s like everyday’s something different.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in amusement, “well… that’s because it is, isn’t it?”

You spotted the box of letters from your childhood penpal hidden beneath a stack of novels you had yet to unpack, your eyes glistening with triumph as you reached into your storage closet, fishing it out with a grunt.

“Come to think of it, Changbin hasn’t said anything about you since that day you met him to rewrite the script,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Heaving a sigh as you got up from your squat, you closed your closet, “which day? We met up a few times for the script.”

Jisung perked up at that, sitting up slightly and supporting his weight with his elbows.

“You did? Why am I only finding out about this now?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to your desk to set the box onto it, “I told you about it, you just forgot.”

Making your way over to the bed, you flopped down onto your belly next to Jisung, looking at him curiously as he frowned at you. His mention of Changbin had made you curious.

“He… really hasn’t said anything about me?” you dared to ask, regretting it almost immediately when Jisung had taken the opportunity to twist your words.

Jisung’s expression had changed to one that you were all too used to, how his eyes would give away that he was thinking of saying something to tease you, his lips curving into a slight smirk.

“Why? Do you want him to be talking about you?”

You wrinkled your nose, a small panicked scoff leaving you, “yeah, right. Don’t get too carried away there.”

Jisung prodded further, leaning closer to you as he drawled, “well, why not? I mean, you said it yourself, you guys are on pretty good terms now, aren’t you?”

You purse your lips. The film club had been nice enough to give you a month longer to work on the script, you and Changbin ending up getting carried away and doing the whole thing over. And of course, within that month, you interacted with Changbin in some way or another almost everyday.

It could be meetings at his or your apartment, or spontaneous phone calls when one of you thought of an idea and you’d felt inspired to discuss it (even if you were on your bed tucked into your sheets when it happened most of the time), sometimes it was even just simple texts checking up on each other and asking what the other thought about the updates.

Nonetheless, you’d grown used to Changbin’s presence, finding that after that meeting at his house, it was like it had softened the both of you up to each other, especially when you realised your perception of Changbin was all wrong and that really, he was as soft as softies go.

You gave Jisung a shrug, tugging the neckline of your shirt down, feeling as though the room had gotten hotter, “I mean, yeah, I guess. He doesn’t annoy me as much as he used to.”

Jisung let out a chuckle, the laugh bubbling out louder as he continued.

“You know if you tell me you like him now, I won’t make fun of you.”

“You’re lying.”

“So, you do like him?” His grin widened, making you sputter for a better response, figuring you’d dug your own grave with that one.

“Don’t stir shit,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Your reaction had only tickled him even more, clutching his belly as he sighed, “I knew it. Remember? I told you he was your type!” his tone was triumphant, making you regret fuelling his suspicions.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re very happy about that,” you huffed, turning away from him and burying your face in your soft sheets, your hand coming up next to your head to smooth over the fabric.

You felt Jisung’s hand on your arm, his expression grim.

“Wait, so am I really right? You like him?”

You shrugged his hand away, though he hadn’t budged, giving up soon after.

“I mean,” you enjoyed your last moment of peace before you decided to reply to him, “he’s cute, I won’t deny that. And he’s become a lot nicer to me… he’s fun to talk to? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little attracted to him.”

Jisung snickered, “that’s cute, but gross. I can’t believe you like Changbin.”

Trust him to only get that out of whatever you’d just told him.

You turned to give him a wide-eyed look of disbelief, “oh, please, you were the one that kept fluffing him up to me!”

Jisung had simply shrugged, unfazed by your outburst, a small sound of hesitation leaving him.

“I would say I did a minimal amount of fluffing. I just called it before the both of you realised.”

You grit your teeth, “fine, enjoy your moment. But one word about it to Changbin and you’re dead. Got it?”

Jisung’s eyes widened, his hand coming up to mimic zipping up his lips.

“Got it.”

===

“Cut!”

You turned to cast a desperate look to Chan, the said boy looking apologetic as he called for a stop again. You watched as he leant down for Changbin to murmur something in his ear, Chan nodding before making his way over to you and Minho.

“We’re thinking maybe you could try that scene again but maybe with just a little more… in the moment? Maybe try not to rush through it,” Chan suggested to Minho, making the said boy groan.

“Sorry, it’s my fault. It’s just- we’ve been filming for hours, if I wasn’t so scared of Changbin I would’ve—”

“I know,” Chan reassured Minho, giving the both of you a small smile, “hopefully we can get this scene done quickly and then we’ll all be free to go, hmm?”

You nodded, letting Chan make his way back to where the monitor was as you got back into position with Minho.

Changbin watched intently as you and Minho acted out the scene again, something about the way Minho was delivering his lines seeming so unaligned with the picture Changbin had in his head. Was it the lines that weren't doing it for him? Was it because Changbin couldn’t quite tap into the emotions of the character in this scene?

He wasn’t sure what exactly it would look or sound like to be in love, but whatever ‘Soobin’ was showing, sure wasn’t what Changbin wanted it to be.

After you’d finished the scene, the film club members had waited anxiously for Changbin’s greenlight on whether they were free to go, all of them anxiously looking on as Chan went to talk to a few of them at props.

You taken the liberty of making your way over to where Changbin was, seeing him intently monitoring the scene that you’d just shot, the reason behind why he’d made you and Minho run through the same scene 15 times starting to become clear to you.

“That’s not gonna help you make it better, you know?” you spoke, shoving your hands into your pocket and scrunching your eyes shut as you braced against the cool wind that was blowing your way, the trees rustling loudly as Changbin’s head shot up, the frown remaining on his face.

“What?” Changbin figured he came off as a little too annoyed, but he stayed unwavering nonetheless, wanting to know just what you thought you knew about him.

“You know, I watched an interview once, and this actor said something that was so true,” you began, taking a seat next to him, feeling his gaze on you before you continued, your gaze falling on the image of you and Minho on the monitor, “he said that playback makes scenes seem a lot more dissatisfactory.”

Changbin’s frown deepened, “I don’t get it, just spit it out.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile, “I’m trying to give you advice here, okay? As I was saying, be in the moment. Not everything’s gonna turn out like how it is in your head.”

You inhaled deeply, a slight shiver running down your spine at how cold you felt, taking a hand out of your pocket to tap him on the arm.

“Now can you wrap it up and call it a day? The rest of them have been dying to go home but they’re too scared to tell you.”

Changbin hummed, “They are? Why?”

You nodded, seeing Changbin already making to stand up and call for the rest’s attention, with you taking the opportunity to lean over to him and mutter, “Dunno, maybe they just haven’t figured out what a softie you are yet.”

Changbin attempted to press his lips together firmly to contain his smile, though eventually giving up and letting the soft smile be shown on his face as he dismissed the club members, the rest of them already having started shifting their equipment back.

You’d decided to help them shift the equipment while Changbin talked to Chan about something, trying your best to ignore the way the weather seemed to be getting chillier as all the equipment had started feeling cold to the touch. Mental note to start wearing warmer clothes out after today.

“Thanks for convincing Changbin to free us,” Hyunjin sighed when you were coming down the stairs after locking the club room, making you huff.

“He’s not some dictator, you know. You guys could just ask him next time,” you reasoned.

Hyunjin scoffed, “I’d much rather keep my life, thank you very much.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your phone as you thought whether to text Jisung if he’d wanted to meet for dinner.

“You’re so dramatic,” you told Hyunjin, “I told him and I got to keep my life.”

Hyunjin scoffed, “that’s cause he—”

He stopped himself abruptly, eyes widening for a split second before he shrugged, “that’s cause you fight with him all the time, it’s different.”

You saw a text come in.

Changbin 8:14pm - do u wanna go get dinner? I’m done talking to Chan -

“Speak of the devil,” you murmured, erasing your drafted text to Jisung and replying to Changbin to say that you would wait at the quad.

Changbin 8:14pm - i was thinking of eating some cold noodles -

You grimaced at the thought, Hyunjin pulling you out of your thoughts, “are you waiting for Changbin?”

You nodded, sensing his hesitancy to let you wait there alone, “you go ahead, I’ll be fine, he’s already on his way.”

Hyunjin frowned, turning to see Changbin from afar already making his way over, Changbin having spotted the both of you and given Hyunjin a wave.

Waving back, Hyunjin nodded, “alright, I’ll see you.”

Tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, you folded your arms, hoping Changbin would hurry up so you could finally go somewhere with heating.

Though once he’d met up with you, you were a little confused when he’d gone a completely different direction than you’d expected, leading you to a traditional restaurant that served mainly soups and broths instead.

Don’t get me wrong, you were thankful for the warmth of the restaurant, of course, but just a little confused about why he changed his mind.

You let him order for the both of you, looking curiously from where you were seated facing him, leaning back in the wooden chairs as Changbin ordered from the older lady running the shop.

“I thought you wanted to eat cold noodles?” you scanned the menu in search of the item, confusion increasing when you found nothing of the sort.

Changbin shook his head, “figured you might wanna eat something warmer,” he admitted, making your lips part in surprise.

“How’d you know?”

Changbin didn’t know how to explain that it was because he’d kept looking at you during shooting and he didn’t miss the way your hands would clench and unclench the fabric of your clothes, or how you’d fold your arms more and shake them out in between takes when you thought no one was looking.

“… just a wild guess.”

You brushed his comment aside, the both of you talking about your upcoming classes or complaining about readings that had yet to be read, the sheer boiling temperature of the stone pot making heat rush to your cheeks and spread through your body, thankful for Changbin’s wild guess.

Leaning back in your seat with your hands over your stomach, you sighed at how full you were feeling, already anticipating your food coma as you let yourself zone out staring at the label of Changbin’s bottle of soju.

“Are they really scared of me?”

You’d dragged yourself out of your daze (reluctantly), your lips pursing, “sorry, what did you say?”

Changbin averted his gaze, fiddling with his fingers under the table. Smoothing his thumb over the soft skin at his palm, his tongue poking at his canines before he looked back at you, meeting your gaze with a certain determination.

“The film club people,” he repeated, “are they really scared of me?”

You shrugged, “yeah, I guess. Like, they talked about it before… I guess it’s because you have that serious expression on a lot so they might take it the wrong way.”

Observing his expression, his lips had parted, a blank expression on his face, “I have a serious expression?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tilting your head at him, “I think It’s just your resting face. They’re kind of wary of how they act around you during meetings, you know, which is why they had that kind of reaction when I first spoke up about the script.”

Changbin let his grip around his spoon relax, whatever rice he’d scooped into it dispersing into the soup.

“Then why aren’t you scared?”

You almost snorted with how immediate your laughter had bubbled out of you, a bout of chuckles leaving you as your shoulders shook lightly.

“Because,” you waved your spoon slightly, “there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Changbin’s blank expression had prompted you to continue.

“I have no problem with you being assertive about what you want,” you explained, “I mean, if it were my script, i’d probably be equally, if not more, assertive about how I want it. But that’s a good thing about you. You don’t just… shut up if something doesn’t sit right with you. That’s something I’ve always thought was really important.”

Call him crazy, but Changbin couldn’t adequately describe how your words had done more in spreading a giddy warmth in his chest than the food ever could.

He wasn’t always like this. If anything, he’d wanted to say that he’d pushed himself to be more assertive after countless conversations with his penpal about not being afraid to speak up for what you want.

Though he’d always been scared of whether he’d be doing a disservice to the people he worked with if he chose not to speak up, he was glad that you reminded him just why he started doing it in the first place.

Penny’s character in his head had started to look more and more like you. And he was glad.

“You wanna hear something crazy?” You blurted.

You didn’t know where you were going with this. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, really. You just knew that saying what you said to him had triggered a sense of what you could only describe as love within you. If you knew anything about it.

“What?” he asked, the smile on his face making you stop in your tracks. How could he remind you so much of someone, yet seem so much like a mature, upgraded version of them at the same time?

You couldn’t possibly tell him that you were starting to be kind of glad that you didn’t meet Binnie, because you felt like you were looking at him right now. And childhood penpal or not, you were so much more smitten with the one sitting before you.

“Nothing,” you breathed, “nothing, sorry, forget I said anything.”

Your revelation reminded you that you’d brought your old letters from Binnie for Changbin to tap on for inspiration to write the last scene, shutting your mouth and turning to fish the box out of your bag.

“I just remembered, you asked for these right?” you pushed the box towards him, seeing him pick up the box gingerly (as though it were that brittle old notebook he uses), placing it into his bag.

“I’m assuming they’re the letters from your old penpal?”

You nodded, “but don’t laugh when you read them, okay? He was really nice to me.”

Changbin huffed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, “yeah, yeah, no promises.”

After you were done with your dinner (Changbin paying for it as a supposed ‘thank you’ for being patient during filming), you’d prepared yourself to fight against the cold night breeze as you stepped out of the restaurant before Changbin, not having expected to feel a warm weight being draped over your shoulders.

“I don’t know why you decided to come out without a coat when you know now’s usually when the weather gets colder,” he tutted his tongue, feigning disapproval, not giving you any time to be shocked at his gesture.

He stood in front of you, tugging the coat tighter around you as he met your gaze, giving you a tired smile.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”

You bit down on your lip, your racing heart and panic making the best reply you could come up with to be a mere, “didn’t peg you to be so gentlemanly.”

To which Changbin shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“I can be pretty romantic if I want.”

You were gonna get whiplash at this rate.

That same night (or day, 3am was a fine line), you’d received an email from Changbin of the last scene for the film, reading through it and having to stop in between for breaths and water breaks because you had no idea Changbin was capable of encompassing such romantic sentiments in a scene.

Looking at what he wrote, you would never have thought he was the same person that kept arguing with you about happy endings going to shit.

Changbin had written the scene in a burst of inspiration, having felt an almost uncomfortably foreign giddiness within him after returning home from your dinner, feeling even more motivated when he’d watched the film footage they’d shot earlier that day (unconsciously rewinding more than once to watch you act) deciding to just go with whatever he was feeling and write down the scene he had in mind.

And if anyone was asking, no, he totally didn’t picture you as Penny and himself as Soobin the entire time while doing so.

By the time you were done, it was almost an hour later, the aftermath of reading his scene making you pick your phone up and send him a text.

4:02am - did something happen? What’s with the lovey dovey script? Did someone finally change their mind about Penny? -

Not long after, Changbin’s reply came in, feeling thankful that he’d only decided to open your box of letters, or more accurately his letters, after he was done with the scene, something about what he found putting him in an all too thoughtful mood.

Changbin 4:04am -let’s just say... i took your advice-

===

“What do you think, Changbin?” Chan’s voice had snapped Changbin out of his daze, the latter looking at Jisung with a shrug.

“I would say you’re just short changing yourself if you didn’t talk to her. I mean, you said you liked her, right? So what are you waiting for?” Changbin sounded almost impatient, his tone eliciting a grunt from Jisung.

“Yeah, you say it like you’re not the one hiding your hopeless crush on Y/N.”

Chan’s eyes widened, not having expected Jisung to say it so blatantly.

Changbin sputtered, looking at Chan for help only to be met with giggles.

“I’m sorry, dude, it was really quite easy to tell.”

Changbin wanted the cushioned booth to swallow him whole, scrunching his eyes tightly shut in a wince.

“Whatever, that’s not the point,” he waved Jisung off dismissively, “we’re talking about your love life here.”

Jisung pursed his lips, shaking his head, “it’s not fun anymore, I wanna talk about yours.”

Changbin glared at Jisung, “i’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Good, ‘cause you should be having it with Y/N.”

Chan raised an eyebrow at the younger boy, humming in suspicion.

“Why do you sound like you know things...”

Jisung shrugged, raising his hands to give a dramatic shrug, “Do I? I guess we’ll never find out since Changbin ‘isn’t gonna have this conversation with me’.”

Chan turned to Changbin, who currently looked as though he would rather die than be here right now, “actually, what are you waiting for?”

Changbin brought a hand up to massage his fingers on his temples, a resigned sigh leaving him.

“I don’t know, I’ll probably not do anything until the showcase. I still don’t know how exactly I wanna go about it.”

Jisung snickered, “you’ll be fine, seriously.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll just enjoy whatever time I have left to think about it till the showcase. Now back to your issue… ”

But obviously, Changbin didn’t use his 3 days of buffer time very well.

He was lucky the atmosphere of the showcase and the unexpected crowd of people had prolonged the time until he’d be in a situation where he’d feel compelled to talk to you about it. Whatever it was.

You hadn’t noticed, obviously, the way Changbin had been keeping himself busy talking to guests and teachers that had shown up, people from the media and publications club. You were too busy being whisked away by your own friends and a already slightly tipsy Minho who thought it was a good idea to pregame drinks before the afterparty later on.

It’d only been when things started calming down and people were actually watching the film that you’d been put in a position where you had no choice other than to think about the boy seated in front of you tapping his foot incessantly on the carpeted floor of the auditorium.

Once the show was over, you’d leant forward, about to congratulate him when you’d both been whisked up by one of the teachers-in-charge, pulling you together with Minho onto the stage to answer questions from the audience.

The questions were fairly simple, most of them from the media and publications club trying to get technical details for their article, allowing you to zone out from where you stood on the stage, letting Changbin smoothly answer all the questions they could possibly throw at him. It wasn’t like Minho was in any position to answer them, tipsy and zoned out of his mind.

It was only when you’d heard him fumbling around with his words that you looked up from the spot on the wall you were staring at, turning to look at Changbin with an embarrassing amount of concern on your features.

“I’m sorry can you repeat the question?” you’d spoken into the microphone, hearing someone that sounded almost identical to Jisung asking how he got inspiration from the story.

You looked at Changbin curiously, as if silently asking if he needed you to step in, only to have him look at you with a blank expression, his mouth opening and closing as he fumbled for an answer.

“Oh, well, I’m sure I can answer this on behalf of Changbin,” you began, “we’d worked on the script together, and it was inspired by a lot of things, like our experiences with pen pals as well as movies like ‘you’ve got mail’.”

Changbin’s shoulders slumped with relief, nodding towards you as a silent thanks, the moment cut short when you were once again whisked away into different crowds to take pictures or to carpool to the afterparty.

Though you were bored 10 minutes into the party, Minho having gotten drunk before you could even get past your second drink, you’d let Changbin have his fun. You figured it was a good thing that he was being recognized for his efforts, even if he didn’t look like he was enjoying the attention very much. He needed it, you supposed, to be forced to see how much people enjoyed the work he made.

But you didn’t stay to see it too long, adjourning to the porch of whoever’s house you were in to enjoy an environment away from the loud music and too many people you didn’t know.

“Already bored?”

You’d jumped at the sound of Changbin’s voice, his footsteps loud against the wooden porch as he took a seat next to you on the swing, holding out his bottle of soda to you, “do you want some?”

You shook your head, seeing him shrug, “suit yourself, then.” He took a long sip of his soda, sighing afterwards.

A tired smile on your face, you let out a deep sigh, “didn’t expect you to find me here so quickly.”

“How could I not?” he laughed, shaking his head, “In case you didn’t notice, I was suffocating in there, figured I deserve a break.”

“Good job, though, I’d say you handled everything well…” you started, your smile growing, “... though there is one thing… I didn’t think you were the type to struggle with public speaking.”

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, scoffing, “shut up, I don’t usually.”

“Sure, you don’t,” you teased, bringing your hands to your sides to support your weight, letting your legs lift off the ground as Changbin used his feet to move the swing gently.

You leant back in your seat, enjoying the silence you were able to get out here as compared to the chaos going on within the house, noticing how tense Changbin seemed, his posture anything but relaxed as he’d let out sigh after sigh, tapping his rings against the seat of the bench absently.

“Relax,” you chuckled, “it’s already over.”

Doing the opposite of relaxing, Changbin simply stopped moving the swing, angling his body to face you more as he fished in his blazer pocket for something, pulling out an envelope from his jacket, “I have uh… something for you.”

Holding it out for you to take, your gaze fell on the colourful envelope, the little strawberry stickers you remembered using your savings to buy as you frowned at the address written on the envelope in your old messy ‘princess handwriting’.

Your gaze darted from the envelope back to him, “how did you… how do you have this?”

“I have it,” he began, letting out yet another sigh, “because you sent it to me.”

If it could, your heart would’ve stopped in that exact moment.

“Read it,” he prompted when you’d stayed silent, your hands moving urgently to open the envelope, your heart feeling warm when you pulled the paper out, already being able to see the ‘To: Binnie’ written with your favourite scented marker.

To: Binnie

How are you? I’m fine. I am writing this very late in the night because I finished my rehearsal for my school play in the evening and I just finished taking a bath. I have to be quick or my mom is gonna scold me for not sleeping yet. I wanted to tell you that you should sign up for the competition. Which is why I have to mail this to you A.S.A.P as possible because you said the sign up closes in a few days. I think that you should just try it out, even if you don’t do well. Because then at least you can say that you gave it a try and you had fun. I saw this on a tv show, and they said if you don’t try, you will never know if it will turn out well, because you didn’t try.

So I’m telling you to try!!!!! Just try your best and have fun. I think you will do well.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

“So this is me… trying… it. Whatever it is,” he sounded out of breath, almost, and your heart had begun to pick up speed at how it seemed as though this would be the time where he would confess his feelings to you (if Soobin and Penny were any guide to go by).

You should’ve known Changbin better by now, though.

“Thank you… for helping me with the film. You know, for giving me crap about it because I know that that wasn’t really what I felt. I was just… bitter, but for some reason, you giving me shit about it kind of reminded me why I liked being friends with my penpal- or, I guess, liked being friends with you, so much in the first place.” he was looking at you more confidently now, straightening up as he continued.

“It wasn’t because you gave me fake money to buy a scooter, or anything,” he laughed, “it was more because you were someone that was friends with me for who I was? You were kind, and you were honest.”

Changbin fiddled with the envelope in his hands as you tried your best to contain your smile.

“And you were especially supportive, you know, in your own argumentative way.”

You let out a huff of breathy laughter at that, your hand coming up to touch your necklace, finding something else to fiddle with to contain your anxiousness.

“I’m glad, though, that I didn’t know you were that Y/N,” he told you, “because I already grew to like this Y/N so much, that… finding out was just… a pleasant surprise.”

For the first time since you saw the letter, you’d spoken, a breathy, “me too,” leaving you, embarrassing you to no end.

“I’m glad it was you,” you murmured, averting your gaze, not having expected Changbin to have reached out a hand towards yours, hovering just momentarily before making the decisive action of grasping it gently.

“Me too.”

“So are you gonna explain why my letters—”

“Shh,” he shut his eyes, the smile on his face making you give in almost instantly, “don’t ruin it.”

===

“I didn’t know people even still sent letters these days,” Jisung snorted, sipping on his coffee that he’d just gone downstairs to buy, “here, you have one, but there's no name.”

You frowned, picking it up and finding the handwriting of your address awfully familiar, feeling as though you’d definitely seen it scribbled on a specific brittle old notebook before.

You flopped onto your bed, opening the letter as Jisung resumed playing whatever game he was busy with on your desktop computer.

Thankful for the distraction, you’d quickly unfolded it, scrunching your nose at his choice of pen name.

To: my penpal Y/N

This letter may just be over a decade overdue, but I wanted to firstly say I’m sorry for making you wait so long. That letter about my film competition, that was the last one I received from you, and one of my favourites. I figured it out, by the way, I gave you the wrong address. Phonics was a very tricky thing for my eight year old stubborn self that refused to cross check with my mom.

I figured sending you a letter was best, you know, since you know I'm not the very best at public speaking, or just speaking in general sometimes, I doubt I'd be able to say as eloquently what I wanted to say to you in this letter.

I wanted to give you a few updates. Firstly, I met someone in my film club. Well, technically I auditioned them for my short film so there’s no one to blame for the trouble they caused other than me. I didn’t like them that much at the beginning. I thought they were just trying to impose their stupid happily ever after beliefs on me, someone who thought I was a big bad cynical bitter man that didn’t believe in love stories.

As you probably guessed, they challenged me (a lot), and waiting to see them started to feel like the days where I would wait to hear my mom tell me that a letter came in for me, even better actually. They reminded me of the qualities in myself that I was always afraid of showing, and they reminded me what was so good about being unapologetic for who I was sometimes, because they accepted all of that, (but not without giving me an shit about it first, of course).

But i’m thankful, I’m thankful because I really grew to like them a lot. I liked how I could be comfortable being myself around her, and I liked how they would support me when I needed it, but also to correct me when I need to be corrected.

They were real, and I liked that, a lot.

So, the point of this was that if they ever happen to receive this, you know, (because I totally didn’t know your current address, obviously), I hope they know that I’ve grown to like them very much, to like the personality that i’ve come to know, and that i’m very excited to grow to know (and like) even more.

I’ll be seeing you, Binnie.

#changbin #seo changbin #seo changbin au #changbin au #changbin fluff #skz changbin #skz au #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids fluff #enemies-to-lovers!changbin #on track #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #I love changbin

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sockablock · 7 years ago

Text

Something New for Me and You

• (start) (AO3) (prev) (next) •

Chapter 5: Ribbons of Green Silk

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 8:22 AM

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: hey assholes whos excited for saturdaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy??!!!!! NottSoBrave: caleb says ‘what is she going on about’ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: rude (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: im not going to elaborate until he apologizes Babebarian: caleb please say sorry NottSoBrave: he says “i dont understand why but i am sorry” (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: i forgive him (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: anyways im talking about the 25th anniversary!! Its going to be so fun molly told me all the juicy details Seaman: and wouldn’t tell ME anything about it NottSoBrave: what a dick (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: ANYWAYS, will we all be able to meet at some point? I know molly is performing (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: and fjord and beau and yasha have to work that night Babebarian: perhaps after the show when things have calmed down we can all meet Seaman: yeah sure

Nott swung her feet off the side of the counter as Caleb finished washing their dishes. “Nobody’s replying now,” she narrated. “Did you have something you wanted me to send?”

Caleb shut the faucet off. “No, I am fine,” he said. “Tell me instead, have you and Jester decided on a time yet? Is your plan worked out?”

Nott nodded grudgingly. “She’s picking me up after her classes end. You’re super lucky that you’ve already got a suit, you know,” she sighed. “I really don’t want to do this.”

Caleb gave her a sympathetic smile. “I am sure it will be fine. Jester wouldn’t subject you to too much, of that I am certain.”

Nott sagged against the cupboards. “But this is going to suck,” she groaned. “People are gonna be looking at me, touching me, what if they realize I’m a goblin? The gnome disguise is only an illusion, what if they accidentally feel my ears or my hands, or what if the spell ends before I remember to cast it again? What then?”

“There are definitely risks,” Caleb conceded. “But that should not stop you. You can set a reminder on your cell every hour, and I am sure Jester would be more than happy to make sure nobody gets too close. She is our friend, ja?”

“Yeah,” Nott muttered. “Gods, I didn’t think going to a fancy party would be this much trouble. I still don’t see why I couldn’t have just magicked a fake dress for myself and saved a us a whole lot of trouble.”

“Jester wanted to treat you,” he reminded her. “And this is an experience you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? Even more, you deserve something nice. It is not every day one of us gets to be fancy, you should enjoy it. That is what you said when Jester dragged me out to the Tri Spires for dinner, ja?”

Nott raised an eyebrow. “Is this revenge, then? Are you getting back at me for that?”

Caleb grinned. “Not at all,” he said. “This is me giving you moral support and wishing that all goes well. Ich drücke dir die Daumen. Fingers crossed.”

•

Molly awoke to Fjord standing next to his bed, poking him in the arm. The half-orc was saying something, garbled and completely intelligible, and Molly had to sluggishly shove his hand away and pull the blankets over his head and ignore Fjord’s impatient sighs for a solid thirty seconds before he felt awake enough to reemerge and attempt communication.

“Gods, what?” he muttered. “What’s it?”

“I need you to stop by Crute’s apartment before you go to work and give him my letter,” Fjord said. “It’s on the kitchen table. Can you do that?”

“Letter?” Molly mumbled. “What letter?”

Fjord rolled his eyes. “My notice of leave letter, remember? Because I’m moving out next month? Like I told you last night?”

“Oh. That letter.”

“Yes, Molly. Can you do that?”

He rolled over and sighed dramatically. “I suppose so,” he said, “but I can’t say I’m thrilled about it. Am I not a good roommate, Fjord Tough? Have I not been more than wonderful? Are you abandoning me now, in this, my time of greatest need?”

Fjord shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Molly, you know I’m sorry, I really am, it’s not you. Jester ‘n I have been looking forward to this for a long time, yeah? And when we found the perfect apartment we knew it was the time and I know it leaves you out by yourself, but—”

Molly rolled back over and took Fjord’s hand. “I’m kidding, dear.” His tone was still sleepy, but now light and laced with warmth. “Of course I’m very happy for you both, I’ll give Crute the letter. Besides, when you’re gone then there won’t be any pushy half-orcs to prod me awake every morning.”

Fjord smiled. “Thanks, Molly.”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out, go to school, or whatever. I still have two hours before I need to be at the Moondrop.”

Fjord laughed. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

And just as he was about to walk through the doorway, he paused and turned and said, “I’m gonna miss this, Mol.”

Molly pulled the blankets up again. “No,” he said. “Too early for emotions. Go away, try again later.”

Fjord snorted and left. A few seconds later, the front door clicked shut.

Eventually, Molly managed to close his eyes.

•

Shortly after Jester waltzed out of their apartment, pink backpack hanging loosely off one shoulder and humming cheerfully to herself all the way, Beau got up.

She slowly got out of bed and trudged into the kitchen, leaned against the counter and started sorting through mail as she waited for the coffeemaker to get its shit together.

“Boring…boring…boring,” she mumbled, tossing letters aside. She made a mental note to make sure Jester saw the one from Sieversii’s Office of the Bursar, immediately ignored a card saying she was overdue at the dentist, and then flipped to the next message and froze.

This envelope, brown and plain, was almost completely blank. Almost, except for “Beauregard” scrawled across the front in lazy, looping script.

She bit her lip. She thought for a moment. She walked over to the sink, held the envelope over it just in case, and carefully tore it open from the bottom.

A single piece of paper slid out.

She stared at it, lying motionless in the basin for a good minute. Then she gingerly picked it up and began to read.

Her eyes narrowed. Her teeth clenched, and her mouth curled into a scowl. Her anger grew, swelled, expanded until it burst in a thunderous explosion and she screamed with rage, kicked the dishwasher, crumpled the letter into a tight ball and whirled around and chucked it across the room. She pounded a fist against the side of the sink and stared furiously into the drain.

The coffeemaker dinged. She glowered at it, and then sighed.

She reached for the dishrack and found her mug, light blue ceramic.

She poured herself a cup.

•

“Okay, Nott!” Jester grinned as she climbed out of the car. “Welcome to the Tri-Spires! That tower over there, that one’s the Triumph Chime, where Caleb and Fjord and Molly and I had dinner on Monday. That one’s the Zauber Spire, it’s got fancy wizards in it and stuff, and that’s the Constellation Bridge. We’re going to one of the smaller boutiques, though,” she continued, gesturing to the bustling shops and storefronts around them. “I’ve been there a couple times before, they’re super nice. And you’re in gnome disguise, so it should be fine!”

Nott tugged uneasily on her coat. “But the illusion will cover everything up,” she said. “What if the people working there want to see me try something on, or what if they touch me and their hands disappear? That wouldn’t end well, Jester.”

She gave Nott a pat on the arm. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Trust me?”

Nott looked conflicted for only a moment. She exhaled and nodded slowly. “Alright, Jester. I trust you.”

•

“So,” said Yasha as she leaned against the costume rack and watched Mollymauk apply a generous layer of sparkling powder to his eyelids. “How was the, er...the coffee time?”

Molly snorted, launching a cloud of glitter into the air. “The coffee time?” he asked.

Yasha shrugged. She saw Molly reach for a tiny brush that was indistinguishable from an army of tiny brushes on the makeup table and press it to his eyelashes. “The event with Caleb?” she tried. “I don’t know, I would have said ‘date’ but he seemed adamant yesterday that I did not use that label.”

Molly frowned at Yasha in the mirror. “Really?” he asked. “Did he say why?”

Yasha shrugged again. “I left his home in a hurry. If he did, I did not catch it.”

There was a soft chuckle at that. “I’ve never seen you late for something before,” Molly quipped, “especially when you were harping on me for being on time. I’m ashamed for you, Yasha.”

She snorted and threw a stray sequin at his head, which hit his chair and vanished under the dresser. “Hush,” she said. “And tell me about your not-date, already. How was it? Did you have a good time? Was it everything you hoped?”

Molly sighed and leaned back to examine his eyeshadow. “Sort of,” he said. “It’s definitely confirmed that I am, in fact, head-over-heels for him. But I know it’s much too soon, and I’m fairly certain he harbors no such feelings in return.”

“Perhaps then you just need more time,” Yasha suggested. “Or maybe you should turn your affections elsewhere. I like him but he is a strange one, that Caleb. And that is coming from me.”

“I can’t just stop my emotions like that, Yasha. And besides, I wouldn’t want to. Even if he doesn’t ‘like me back’ it wouldn’t matter. Any suffering I face now is nothing in comparison to the darkness of not being able to love him.”

There was a brief pause.

“That was from Tusk Love, dear.”

“I know. I can’t tell if I want to punch you or clap.”

“I think I make a pretty good Guinevere.”

“You have nothing on Jester.”

There was another pause.

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair,” Molly conceded, and went back to studying his reflection. “Anyways, I do believe that. I’m just going to keep doing my best, and so long as it doesn’t make him uncomfortable, or ruin anything, I don’t see what the harm is. Let me feel, Yasha. Let me love.”

“You should listen to him,” said Mona from the mirror next to them. “If you don’t he’ll just keep complaining.”

“Endlessly,” agreed Yuli, standing behind Mona and doing her sister’s hair. “Hey, when are we going to meet this mystery man of yours, anyways?”

“He seems a much better sort than the kind you usually end up with,” added Mona.

“Soon,” said Molly. “Actually, he’s coming to the anniversary tomorrow. Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of him then?”

“Not good enough,” said Yuli. “I want to meet him.”

“We should invite him backstage,” Yasha suggested. “He knows us both already as is, we can offset any awkwardness, yes?”

Molly blinked a few times. “Mm...maybe,” he said. “We’ll see. It’s a bit early to introduce him to the family, isn’t it?”

“He’s the love of your life,” Yasha teased. “Doesn’t that help?”

“Oh it helps,” said Molly. He leaned into the mirror, and studied his expression. He liked to think his eyes made him hard to read, but right now the fear and worry painted across his face was painfully obvious to him, at least.

He sighed, and lifted his brush. “We’ll just have to see if that’s enough.”

•

“Okay,” said Jester as she pulled the curtain closed. “You can drop the illusion now! It’s just us.”

Nott breathed a sigh of relief and suddenly, the appearance of a small gnome girl with curly red hair and bright blue eyes melted away. Now there was a little goblin in a ratty hoodie standing in the middle of the large fitting room.

“Thank the gods,” she said. “I got really worried when that half-elf tried to touch my illusion-dress. Thanks for distracting her, by the way.”

Jester beamed. “Of course! I promised I would protect you, yes? Now come on. Which one do you want to try on first?”

Nott surveyed their haul, which barely fit on the available hooks.

“We can start with the pink one?” she suggested. “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before. And I still don’t see the point in getting a dress, Jester, especially when nobody will actually see the real thing.”

Jester shook her head. “I want you to have something nice!” she said. “You’re a pretty girl, you need something pretty of your own to go with it. Not Caleb’s old clothes.”

Nott scoffed. “I’m not a pretty girl,” she said. “I’m a goblin.”

Jester raised an eyebrow. “So what? What difference does that make?”

Nott gave an incredulous laugh. “It makes the whole difference!” she said. “Goblins can’t be pretty, that’s ridiculous. They’re horrible, nasty, awful creatures that live in caves and eat children, everybody knows that. A goblin is, is, is disgusting.”

“No way,” said Jester. “That’s not true at all. You aren’t disgusting, and you’re not nasty or terrible either!”

“But I’m still a goblin,” Nott argued. “And there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll always be a goblin.”

“Maybe so,” Jester said, and here she put a hand on Nott’s shoulder. “Maybe that’s the case. But you’re not only a goblin. You’re also Nott! And Nott is kind, and funny, and lovable. And if she gives it a chance, I think she’d see that she can be pretty too.”

Nott bit her lip. She looked up, met Jester’s pleading expression, and for the second time today, relented.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m not completely convinced, but I’ll try.” She slowly reached for one of the dresses, and turned back to Jester with a hesitant smile. “Help me with the zipper?”

•

Caleb looked up from his book—a particularly promising history detailing the rise of the Age of Arcanum—as a green, sheepish-looking man in a bright pink scarf walked up to his counter and tapped lightly on the bell.

It gave a faint, twinkling ding.

“Er...hi, Caleb,” said Fjord, putting the yarn out of his mouth. “How’re you today?"

He blinked. He stared at Fjord for a few silent, awkward seconds.

“Do not take this the wrong way,” Caleb said eventually, sliding a bookmark between the pages and putting the volume aside, “but what are you doing here? Doesn’t Sieversii have a much better library than this? One exclusive to students?” he added with only mild resentment.

“I’m, uh, I’m not actually here for books,” Fjord said. “I was actually meanin’ to ask you for your rates. Sorry I’m buggin’ you for such a small thing, I would’ve texted but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have gotten a response.”

Caleb blinked again. “Excuse me, back up a second,” he said. “Rates?”

Fjord raised an eyebrow. “Uh...yeah? Sorry, are you not taking on more at the moment, or…?”

Caleb leaned forward. He wore a thoroughly bewildered expression on his face. “Fjord,” he said slowly, “I have no idea what you are talking about. Is Jester involved somehow?”

Fjord nodded. Now he looked just as confused as the wizard.

“Okay then,” Caleb said. “In that case, you should start again slowly. What is it you are here for?”

Fjord reached into his bag and produced a thick spiral notebook. He placed it onto the counter between them both.

“I need your help with classes,” he said. “I have a hard time understandin’ arithmetic and magical theory, and I was hoping you’d have some spare time in your weekly schedule to take me on as a student.”

“Oh,” said Caleb. “Oh, tutoring, ja sure, that is absolutely doable. But what did you mean before, asking for ‘rates’?”

Fjord frowned. “How much you charge, Caleb. I might not be able to match what Jes pays you, but—”

Caleb held up a hand. He met Fjord’s eyes. “Jester does not pay me,” he said evenly. “I never asked her to.”

Fjord blinked. He stared at Caleb. He took in the dark circles under the man’s eyes, the tattered nature of his coat. He thought about his own apartment, where he lived with Mollymauk, and then about Caleb and Nott’s home. He thought about his job at Fletch, and he thought about his salary.

“I’m paying you,” he said, and watched Caleb’s eyes go wide. “Seriously,” he added. “Whatever you ask. Name the price.”

•

Nott arrived through the front door that evening, which almost scared Caleb out of his mind as he stood in the kitchen, trying to light the stove with a gentle application of Burning Hands.

“Scheiss, spatz,” he said, extinguishing his fingers. “I thought you were a robber.”

“Sorry, sorry,” said Nott. She wore a wide and giddy grin. “I just didn’t want to rumple my dress coming through the window.”

Caleb’s face lit up. “Your dress? You got one?”

Nott proudly thrust forward a fabric bag almost as tall as she was. “I did!” she beamed. “And I really have to say...it was a lot of fun. I felt like a real girl, for the first time, you know?”

Caleb gave her a soft smile. “You’ve always been a real girl, Nott. But I am happy that you had that feeling. Can I see it?

She quickly shook her head. “Nope. You’re not allowed yet. Not ‘till after Jester does my hair and makeup. It’s a whole look.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, but the grin stayed warmly in place. “If you say so,” he conceded. “Color me excited for tomorrow, then.”

“I’m really excited too,” Nott said. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

He chuckled. “Of course,” he said. “You are my family, Nott. I would want nobody else at my side.”

•

Jester arrived home to the smell of Marquesian takeout. Beau was seated at the dinner table, shoveling curried chicken into her mouth.

“Oh, Jester,” she said, muffled. “Welcome back.”

Jester shook the snow off her boots and hung her coat up. “I’m starving,” she said. “Scoot, let me at that bread.”

After Jester skipped over and began to eat, Beau stared into her bowl, seemingly thinking hard about something. After a moment, she suddenly looked up and said quickly, as if trying to prevent herself from stalling, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Jester raised an eyebrow. “Sure. What’s up?”

Beau hesitated. “Do you...uh...do you like your mom?”

Jester laughed. “Uh...yeah?” She raised an eyebrow. “Of course I do, she’s my mom! And she loves me very much.”

“How, uh, how do you know?”

Jester put her fork down. “I dunno,” she mused. “I guess ‘cause she pays attention to me, and talks to me whenever she has time, and gives me lots of cool stuff and cares about me. She wouldn’t have sent me away if she didn’t love me, right? I could have been in super bad trouble if I had stayed home, after all.”

Beau contemplated this. She took a slow bite of chicken.

“I guess,” she said eventually. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Why’re you asking?” Jester leaned in. “Is there something going on?”

“No, no,” Beau shook her head quickly. “No, not at all. Just curious, I guess. Hey, pass me that bread, you can’t eat all of it!”

Jester giggled. “I bet I could,” she said, but handed it over. Then she met Beau's gaze with a soft expression. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" she asked. "We’re besties, that’s what they do.”

“Is it?”

“Absolutely.”

Beau nodded, and gave Jester a small smile. “Good to know, then,” she said. “I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

•

Today 9:25 PM

Molly Tealeaf: hey there mister caleb! Molly Tealeaf: ive been told now that you never actually will read these Molly Tealeaf: but i figured id stop by just in case you do! Molly Tealeaf: i just wanted to let you know how excited i am that you’ll be seeing me sing Molly Tealeaf: for real I mean, not just karaoke while im drunk Molly Tealeaf: and yesterday Molly Tealeaf: it was a ton of fun! Molly Tealeaf: thank you again so much for agreeing to get coffee with me Molly Tealeaf: and lending me your coat Molly Tealeaf: i can’t wait for next time!!

•

Caleb adjusted his tie and sighed.

Now it was Saturday afternoon, a few hours before the performance. He was seated on Jester’ bed, glancing slack-jawed at the room around him, all high windows and thick curtains, plush carpeting under his feet and towering bookshelves to his left, gold leaf on the doors and dresser drawers. It would have been something out of a TV program on millionaire’s homes and lifestyles, if not for the pile of stuffed animals on the bed, the sea of beanbag chairs and cushions on the floor, and the dozens upon dozens of drawings and posters taped along the walls.

“I just got two more,” Jester had said cheerfully before shoving Nott into the bathroom. “One for Shallow Breaths and one for Scent of the Sea. Plus I added some more drawings, feel free to look! I’m very proud.”

And then she had closed the door behind her, leaving Caleb in his tan tweed jacket alone on the bed.

He could hear the girls giggling in the distance, the sound of a blow-dryer occasionally drowning them out.

He fidgeted with his sleeve. He stared at the windows. He put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows against his thighs. He groaned and rubbed his temples.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, staring at the red carpet beneath him. “Why on earth are you here? What made you think this would be a good idea? Gottsverdamnt, this is a high-class party you are about to attend, for the city’s elite!” He rubbed his chin and groaned. “And look at you now, with your shaved face, your neat hair and fancy attire. You are going to get recognized, you imbecile. What if somebody you know is there? Fuck, what if they are there? You don’t know? You were too stupid to ask what kind of people would attend. What if they are in town? What if they decide come? What then?”

He gestured blindly around. “And look at all this,” he continued. “Look at all this. You were supposed to leave this behind. You are garbage, you do not deserve such well-to-do and kind friends, who let you into their homes and, and, and buy you clothing! How could you let Jester do that? You do not deserve this! You should be in your filthy apartment, alone, doing nothing but research. This is a waste of time and a terrible risk.”

There was a sound, muffled by the bathroom door. He glanced up in a panic, half-expecting the girls to be standing there and staring at him. But the room was empty. He heard them giggle, and relaxed.

“Listen to that,” he muttered. “Hear how happy they are? Not for you, Widogast. Not for you. You should have encouraged Nott to come alone. Why even bother with this? You should just go home, now, while you still have the chance.”

He flopped backwards onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, a high arch far above, reminding him again of how small and insignificant he was.

“You are a fool,” he murmured, and ran his fingers through his hair. He stretched his arm out and stared at the back of his hand. “Why are you here?” he asked nobody. “What made you do this? What is the point—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something slip out of his jacket pocket and fall onto the bed. His brow furrowed. He felt around on the covers and his palm brushed a folded-up piece of paper.

He gently brought it closer; he held it up. He read:

Thank you again, Mister Caleb! A bit of warmth in the cold is all we need sometimes, eh?

This handwriting was more of a scrawl, as if formed by a grip unused to writing but determined nonetheless. It was actually almost intelligible, and took Caleb a few moments to properly understand.

When he did, he realized that it—along with the Mister Caleb—was completely, undeniably, Mollymauk.

He let his hand drop onto the blankets, and brought his other arm around to cover his eyes.

“You are a fool,” he muttered again. “A damn fool.”

This time, it lacked venom. If anything it sounded more resigned than angry.

•

Molly stared at his reflection in the mirror.

The rest of the group milled about behind him in various states of preparation for the big evening—Gustav fretting over his top hat, Desmond carefully tuning the instruments, Ornna opening and closing her fan, Bosun helping Kylre into his costume and the Knot Sisters braiding Toya’s hair.

Molly looked down at his costume, a flowing red cloak adorned with alchemical symbols and gaudy colored shapes. It had taken days, weeks, months to complete, and he was rather proud. He’d never played a powerful sorcerer before; usually he didn’t act at all. But rehearsals had gone well, and he couldn’t wait to show it all off tonight.

Still, something fluttered uneasily in his chest.

Molly would be the first person to admit he was a peacock that adored showing off for posh crowds. But Caleb would be here tonight. This would be the first time he’d watch Molly perform. Would he like it? Would he be impressed? Entertained? Or would he think Molly was shallow, too flamboyant, too flashy, too dramatic?

Molly ran a hand through his hair. Then he kicked himself mentally and reached for the hair gel. As he squeezed the pale blue substance into his palm and rubbed his hands together, he looked back at his reflection and paused.

What did he want? He’d told Yasha he would be happy just being allowed to stand by Caleb as a friend. Was that true? Was that right? Was that okay?

He sighed and pushed the gel into his hair.

What did he want?

He didn’t know. And somehow, that was the worst part.

•

Jester burst out of the bathroom, swinging an anxious-looking Nott behind her by the hand.

“We’re ready!” she declared loudly. “Caleb, get up and tell us that we are pretty!”

He pushed himself up. His eyes softened, and a smile crept across his face.

Jester was wearing a long, pale pink dress that seemed to shimmer as she moved. There were no sleeves, and the neckline curved down, stopping just short of indecency, ending at playful with a refined edge. She wore long white gloves, and a necklace of pearls, and a delighted grin.

Nott stood next to her in a bright yellow sundress with a cream-colored sash around the middle. It ended just below her knees, fanning out and twirling slightly as she fidgeted. Her eyes were expectant, and nervous.

“You both look wonderful,” Caleb said. “Absolutely spectacular.”

Nott glowed under his praise. “Thanks, Caleb.” Her hesitant smiled turned giddy. “I feel pretty spectacular too.”

Jester pumped a fist into the air. “I knew it would be amazing!” she beamed. “And now it’s time to party!"

•

Today 5:51 PM

Jester Lavore: mission accomplished molly Jester Lavore: caleb and nott are in some choice fashions Jester Lavore: we’ll head over soon Molly Tealeaf: youre a doll, dear Jester Lavore: im not a doll im a chic god Molly Tealeaf: right of course Molly Tealeaf: thank you so much again for doing this Jester Lavore: HA! any excuse to shop Jester Lavore: nott would NEVER let me put her in a dress if she didn’t have to anyway Jester Lavore: so really its perfect Molly Tealeaf: it truly is, thank you again Molly Tealeaf: hey can I ask you one more favor? Jester Lavore: of course! anything for you Molly Tealeaf: excellent

•

Caleb wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved. Upon arrival, Jester had immediately dragged them past Yasha at the front entrance and up the carpeted stairs, away from the bar and between the tables and around the stage so quickly that none of the guests had even seen them for more than a few seconds. No chance of being recognized, that way, or any need for socialization.

But she had done so because they were going to the performer’s lounge to see Molly and his coworkers before the show. Quite a need for socialization, in that department.

“Relax,” she whispered, pausing just outside the door. “They’re all super-duper nice, and he’s already told them all about you both. Even you,” she added with a grin to Nott. “They know you’re a goblin, but it’s alright. And they won’t say a word.”

“Good,” Nott sighed. “The less we talk about it, the better.”

Caleb gave her a pat on the head. “I am sure they would have loved you on sight, disguise or no. It is me that I am worried about, Jester, I don’t know how to speak to these people! I have never even met them before, how am I supposed to behave? Will they try and make light conversation or should I not speak unless spoken to, or—"

She snorted. “What kind of dumb rule is that? Just be yourself! C’mon, it’ll be fun. Molly’s dying for you to meet them.”

And then she knocked on the door and pressed her cheek against the wood and called, “Guys! It’s Jester and Caleb and Nott! Put your pants on, we’re coming in!”

She turned the handle and yanked it open.

Ten pairs of eyes at assorted heights and varying sizes immediately trained on them. There was a half-elf in a frock coat standing next to a shorter balding man surrounded by a loop of floating instruments. A woman with dark skin and fiery hair, draped in gold and crimson fabrics, lounged next to a rack of costumes. Two identical halflings in shimmering green bodysuits looked up from behind a table covered in makeup and hair products. A half-orc was seated on the carpet, adjusting a drum, and tiny flaxen-haired dwarf girl in a simple white dress was perched atop an enormous, bright green, hulking mass of a lizard-man in the corner by the window.

Mollymauk, seated on the arm of a couch, beamed.

“Jester! Caleb and Nott too, hey, you made it!” He immediately stood up and ushered them over to the sofa. “I’m so glad you guys stopped by, I really wanted to introduce you to the troupe.”

Gustav gave them a warm smile as they sat. “Lovely to see you again, Miss Lavore,” he said to Jester, tipping his hat. Then he turned to Caleb and Nott and bowed. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure yet. My name is Gustav Fletching, master of ceremonies. Come on, you lot!” He grinned, waving at the rest. “Introduce yourselves!”

“Ornna,” said the redheaded woman. “It's pleasure.”

“Bosun,” said the half-orc. “The Breaker. Call me Bo.”

“Mona,” said one of the halfling women.

“Yuli,” said the other. “We’re the Knot sisters.”

“Desmond Moondrop,” said the man surrounded by musical instruments. “I’m a bard.”

There was a tremor from the corner of the room, and then a deep, gravelly voice leaked from the mouth of the lizard-man. “Kylre,” he said.

“Toya,” whispered the dwarf sitting on top of him.

“And I’m Mollymauk,” Molly grinned cheekily. “But you knew that already. Yasha’s included in the troupe too, since she hangs around us so much, but you also knew that already too.”

Jester nudged Caleb and Nott. “Go on,” she hissed. “Introduce yourselves!”

“I’m Nott,” said Nott. “The Brave. But there’s no comma.”

There was a chorus of “hellos,” and Bosun laughed. “Perfect!” he said. “We have the same middle name.”

Then they all looked expectantly at Caleb. He managed to clear his throat and said, only slightly shakily, “Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Ah,” Yuli grinned. “You’re Caleb, then?”

Ornna chuckled. “You're the mysterious man who—”

She was cut off as Molly suddenly threw his arms out and pulled her in tightly by the shoulders. “Anyways, he said loudly, "it was lovely of you three to stop by! The show’s on in half an hour and we’ll be a bit busy from now on, but maybe we can all talk some more after the show. Drinks included.”

Desmond glanced at his watch. “Actually, Molly, we could still spare a few—”

“We’re very busy!” Molly declared again, very pointedly. “After the show.”

The troupe exchanged glances. A few members tried very hard to hide their sniggering.

“Of course,” said Gustav generously. He turned back to the trio and gave another wide bow. “I’m delighted to have met you all. Do stop by again, a friend of Molly’s is a friend of ours, and I’d love to get to know you better, Ms. Nott and Mr. Caleb.”

They both nodded, and before they could say a word were swept up by Jester as she rose and started ushering them out the door. Just before leaving, she turned back and called, “Break a leg, you guys! I can’t wait to see the show!”

“You all seem really cool!” Nott added, sticking her head around Jester. “Nice meeting you!”

“Er…I as well,” Caleb said, and then kicked himself, and then tried again. “I mean, I enjoyed this.”

And then Jester slammed the door, and they all stood in the empty hallway for a few beats of silence.

“That was…peculiar,” Caleb said eventually. “They are a, a colorful lot.”

“They’re good people,” Jester said cheerily. “And they’re Molly’s family, you know?”

“I liked ‘em,” grinned Nott. “I wanna to talk to them some more.”

“I bet we can,” Jester agreed. “But after the show.” She started marching down the corridor, and the other two scrambled to follow her. “C’mon!” she declared. “Let’s go find a table with a good view, before they’re all gone.”

•

Beau dropped her elbows onto Fjord’s counter and raised an eyebrow. “Hey,” she said when he failed to notice her. “Hey, Fjord. When’re you gonna take your break?”

He turned around, wiping a glass cup, and glanced wearily at the packed crowd wedged into the bar around them, dancing to loud, bass-heavy music or playing pool to the side or occupying the booths beyond maximum capacity.

“Dunno,” he said. “There’s a lot of people here tonight.”

“Yeah,” sighed Beau, “bar discounts’ will do that. But we gotta take a break at some point, right? Everybody’s been hypin’ this thing at the Moondrop up for ages, we can’t miss it. Jes promising to illegally tape it for us ain't enough.”

Fjord nodded. “I’ll see if I can’t get someone to fill in for me later,” he said. “And you’re right, if Molly hears I never got a chance to see it he’d be crushed.”

“You think?” Beau asked.

Fjord laughed. “I know.”

The conversation went on hold for a moment, as two people approached the bar and rattled off an order. Beau idly picked at her fingernails.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” said Fjord. “Anyways, how’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a few.”

Beau snorted. “We were at the gym together like…three days ago,” she said. “And I helped you finalize your apartment decision with Jester. Are you forgetting me in your old age already?”

Fjord rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant,” he said. “C’mon, spill. What’s up?”

Beau paused. She seemed to briefly wrestle with something, a mental debate that came and went in a flash

“Not much,” she said, and pointed to a clear bottle behind Fjord. “Hey, pour me one of those? It’s gonna be a long night and I think I need some help.”

Fjord raised an eyebrow. “You sure?” he asked. “You're on the clock and It’s like…seven-thirty. Isn’t that a bit early?”

Beau shook her head. “No way,” she said. “Alcohol will only enhance my performance right now, and seven-thirty just means that night is young. And ripe with opportunity.”

•

Jester had found a circular table near the middle of the crowd, stage-side views having already been claimed. The three of them now sat together in tall, cushioned chairs, hands neatly folded in their laps—Caleb—or fingers drumming absent-mindedly on the white cloth—Jester and Nott. Thankfully, which Caleb noted as he made furtive glances around the large hall, there was nobody here that he recognized. There had been a brief moment, when his eyes caught an older man with a wrinkled face and long beard, where he almost had a heart attack on the spot—

—until he realized the eyes and nose were different. Eventually, he calmed down.

Around the large floral centerpiece, Caleb also sized up the other couples sitting at their table. There was elf with a human, and a pair of gnomes. The closest one, a woman with pale blonde hair and rosy cheeks, gave Nott a pleasant smile when they noticed each other.

“Excited for the show?” she asked, quite kindly, in Gnomish. “My husband and I came a long ways out to come see it.”

Nott stared at her. Her eyes darted back and forth and behind her, Jester and Caleb began to panic silently.

“Uh…” she said, and under the table Jester kicked Caleb’s leg in a you’re-magic-you-have-to-do-something sort of way. He nudged her back with a I-don’t-have-any-spells-that-can-work-fast-enough-to-help-fuck.

Nott cleared her throat. “Ah…actually,” she said, “I’m real sorry, but I don’t speak Gnomish.”

The woman blinked. “Oh, shoot, I’m the one that’s sorry,” she said quickly. “It was my fault for assuming.”

“No, no,” said Nott. “It’s alright. It was a reasonable assumption, Miss. It’s just that I, uh, I was…uh…”

She quickly glanced back at Caleb and Jester, who both shrugged.

“I was raised by halflings!” Nott declared. “Yes, that’s it. Adopted. Never knew my birth parents, it’s quite sad really. But I love my halfling family, and we’re very close.”

“Is that so?” The woman smiled. “Well then, that’s nice. I lived with my adopted brother, you know. He couldn’t make it tonight, but I’m sure he would have loved to meet you, Miss…?”

“Oh!” Nott smiled and gave her a short wave. “I’m, uh, Bren,” she said. “Bren…Tough.”

“Bren Tough?” The other gnome, a man with short brown hair and glittering eyes, raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty interesting name.”

“Thanks,” said Nott. “It belongs to me. What are, uh, what are your names?”

“Oh,” the woman smiled. “Of course, where are my manners? I’m—”

The chandeliers went out. A spotlight suddenly appeared on the grand stage, illuminating a single man in a long frock coat and a tall top hat. He bowed deeply, spreading his arm aside and lowering his hat as he did.

“Esteemed Guests,” he called in a rich, musical tone. “I extend my humble gratitude for gracing us with your presence, and I welcome you to the 25th Anniversary celebration of the Fletching & Moondrop. Our performers have worked tirelessly for months to prepare a unique and spectacular exhibition of culture and music and art for you all tonight, and I firmly believe that it will be to your liking. Grant us your imaginations this eve but a trifle bit of time. Sit back, have some dinner, and enjoy the show.”

And then he bowed again, and in a sudden plume of purple, glittering smoke, he was gone.

The curtains pulled open, and revealing a single man dressed all in blue, old-fashioned minstrel’s clothing, a large feathered cap perched upon his head. He had a fiddle in his hands, and as the light moved towards him, he began to play.

Ah, came Gustav’s voice from somewhere unseen, I see you’ve already met Desmond. He’ll be part of our story tonight, so keep a wily eye for the shifting fool. But first, I will tell you the tale of two sisters of the Fey.

Desmond bowed his head, slowly moved away from the center. And as he retreated, three long ribbons of green silk unfurled from the ceiling and gently caressed the wooden stage.

Lost without form into the mazes of the underworld, there, where the body would break, they found a teacher in a mystical serpent. And the gift they received, was the ability to bend with this maze that had captured them, and slither their way back to the surface, to reclaim their place in the world.

A hand emerged just into view, along the top of the silk. It swayed gently, as if stirred by a breeze. And then another appeared, and another, and another, and then two bodies adorned in glittering emerald scales dropped down, catching themselves against the ribbons and twirling in the air. Their faces turned towards the audience, and then to each other.

May I present to you: Mona and Yuli, the Knot Sisters.

The sisters began to move slowly, bending their limbs, arching their backs and intertwining their torsos in impossible formations, dangling in the air supported by nothing but ribbons, and one another. And as the fiddle’s melody, now sourceless and swelling, building, crescendoing and accelerating in tempo and vigor, the sisters began to spin wildly, press tightly, drape their arms together and move unison, seemingly shifting into a single being of whirling, fluid scales and shimmering, verdant green.

Next to him, Caleb saw Nott wince at their display of impossible flexibility and bone-shattering dexterity. A number of patrons close to the stages were also gasping in shock, in awe, mouths agape and whispering with hushed amazement. The elf at their table gave an impressed nod, and Jester was completely entranced.

Suddenly, one of the sisters folded over and plunged downward, drawing horrified exclamations from the audience, until she stopped short barely two feet of the ground. The other twirled down as well and the two of them began to tangle and wrap like battling serpents, hissing and thrashing and violent and beautiful all at the same time. It was…off-putting, and impossible to look away.

Slowly, the lighting began to dull into a pale turquoise. And then it got darker. And darker. And the sisters fell into the underworld.

They began to tell the tale of struggle, crawling across each other limb by limb, using their snake-like forms as a ladder that extended up the ribbons, using every muscle in their bodies to climb upwards. Caleb found himself forgetting to breathe, so pulled into this wordless story of redemption, of hope, of climbing back to the surface from a dark hell to the soft glow above. And as they moved higher and higher, building off one another and stretching upwards, the lighting shifted, grew brighter, and their climbing became less fevered. The two of them, arm into arm, leg into leg, rolled upward and swirled and spun and twirled until finally they reached the apex and wrapped themselves close and pressed their foreheads together and, one again, turned back out to the audience. The extended their hands, and bowed their heads.

And with a flourish, their ribbons were pulled back up, out of sight, the sisters along with them, until the stage was empty again.

The audience erupted into applause. Caleb felt something brush his cheek, and saw Jester patting his face with her napkin.

“You were crying,” she whispered softly. “It’s okay. I got it.”

He blinked, and felt the moisture gathering under his eyes. He glanced back at Jester, who was smiling in an uncharacteristic moment of silence, and thought of something to say.

“…thank you,” he murmured.

She put the napkin down and gave him a pat on the arm. “Don’t worry. And sorry if your face is sticky, I think there was some juice on my cloth.”

And then, before he could reply, the soft green light suddenly vanished, replaced with nothing but empty darkness, and Gustav’s voice echoed around them once more.

In a flash, beyond the ash, gods all went and gone. The darkness came to grasp, reclaim, and suffocate the dawn.

Suddenly, the audience gasped again as out of the darkness, a burst of flame erupted through the room, beginning with two torch sconces just beside the stage on both sides, spreading out in a circle around the hall, shedding a low, orange light over all of their heads. Caleb couldn’t help but wonder if this was scientific, or arcane, and briefly considered a Detect Magic to find out. But then Gustav spoke again, breaking his train of thought:

But from that night, a burning light doth keep back the shadows’ bane. The strength to fight will set alight the morning sun again. Esteemed guests, I present to you: Ornna, the Fire Fairy.

From the center of the stage, a flash of silver metal. And then another, and another, and suddenly as the sharp gleam arced through the air a flame trailed after it, framing the face of that beautiful woman with blazing red hair, now surrounded by curls of fire. She spun in a hypnotic twirl, her simple dress fanning out around her and catching the warm light, flickering and giving her the visage of a warrior-goddess battling against the darkness around her. The frenzied fiddle soared again, she spun the fans in her grasp, face stoic and graceful all at the same time. The audience breathed their quiet awe, watching her strike and spin and dive across the stage, banishing the shadows from the hall. She moved with the music, drew wild as it crescendoed, leapt and lunged and flew through the air until the song climaxed and she finished one final, brilliant twirl, and as she landed on the stage, the lights all around her suddenly rocketed into a victorious luminescence.

The crowd went wild. Nott stood in her chair and pumped her fists and even in this refined, upper-class audience, she was not alone.

“This is super different from what they usually do,” Jester whispered to the human on her other side. “Usually it’s just background singing and stuff.”

“What a shame,” said the elf. “I would love to see this sort of show more often. Nice use of pyrotechnics.”

“It’s very artistic,” said Nott, sitting back down. “I like it.”

And then the torches went out, and a low drumbeat began to pulse from the stage. Gustav spoke once more:

Even as the sun would rise anew, bellowing roars will quake the lands of Xhorhas and beyond. Terrible beasts, now freed from their dark masters, scattered into our world.

And then a terrible, guttural roar shook the entire performance hall. In the dead silence that followed, came the quiet crawl of grinding, dragging chains.

A spotlight appeared, cast over the form of Bo the Breaker, dragging something onstage. Desmond came with him, chains in one hand and fiddle in the other, the bow moving itself. And then a shape emerged, massive, hulking, covered completely in slimy, swamp-green scales a stark contrast of the lithe sisters from before. This shape was enormous, corpulent, with large toad-like legs that framed a rotund torso, muscular arms manacled and pulling it in. It fought and wrestled against the chains but slowly, painfully, bitterly pulled into the center of the stage. It roared a second time, mighty and brutal. The front row of the audience pulled back in their seats, whispering urgently, fear beginning to build.

The devil-toad crawls hungrily into the land of free folk, said Gustav, steady and unwavering. It ravages the mind and lords over nightmares. But what truth lies behind the eyes of this beast? What would be learned when the guiding heart of innocence pierces the hateful soul, brings beauty for the first time?

A soft, faint voice from somewhere in the darkness began to drift slowly over their heads.

I now present to you: the vivid song of Toya.

A light shone down atop a platform against the left side of the stage. And upon the structure, feet swinging and bare, was the shape of the young dwarven girl in the flowing white dress. Her eyes were closed, hands at her side. And her voice, her voice, her voice—

—she sung with a mystifying hum, a sound that pierced the heart with unexpected, uncontrolled, unbridled joy. The crowd audibly gasped as the melody washed over them, entranced them, brought every single person into its music. Caleb felt something brush his cheek again, and when he looked down he saw Jester blow her nose into the napkin, staring at the stage with wide, tear-brimmed eyes.

And before them all, the devil-toad froze. It stopped struggling, seemingly caught by this song. Its face dropped into a soft smile and it slowly walked beneath Toya’s wooden platform. It looked up, and sat down. Bosun and Desmond both dropped their chains and walked away, leaving the creature in its awed rapture. From up above, Toya’s voice began to grow, almost summoning a chorus from the ether that once again spoke of magic that could not be. Her smile was infectious, and though tears spilled down Caleb’s face, he could not break his gaze.

Until, abruptly, a man seated at one of the tables shot to his feet. His arms were outstretched and behind his fine-tailored suit was a body wracked with age. His legs shook, and the low light caught the wetness of his cheeks.

“What’s happening?” Nott whispered as the audience's attention shifted to the man. “What’s he doing?”

“I dunno,” Jester frowned. “I think…hey, he doesn’t look so good—”

He screamed. The music instantly stopped. Other patrons began to stand up, began to move closer, to check on him, watched him collapse to the ground and clutch his chest and with another wet gurgle screamed again, vocal chords bursting and now the skin on his arms began to tear, the bones split from his flesh, the people immediately around him began screaming themselves and backing away and his body writhed and crackled and dust shook from his swelling form and the entire audience started panicking, scrambling, running for the exits and shouting and—

Chaos erupted all around them.

Instinctively, Caleb’s hands caught fire.

•

💚 ☕ ☕ 💚

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