#i’m glad that i can finally italicize the sentences that need to be italicized

[pipperoo]

i’ve recently, finally, started doing a second pass of my first fan fiction so i can actually fix all the mistakes that drive me crazy. and there’s just something abt going back through your old work.

like it’s cool to see me find my footing. seeing all the little writing quirks that are still in my writing today. seeing it gradually improve.

i always assume my writing, especially my first stuff, is the absolute worst. and then i reread it and its fine, it’s even pretty good at times. i don’t know, going back through has just helped me appreciate it a bit more, see the good when i usually just see the bad

[lancermylove]

Too Late (Oneshot)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x fem!Reader

Warning: MAJOR angst, reader’s death, mention of blood

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can i get a oneshot of victor

Word Count: 2,158

A/N: The reader is looking back on past event and reflecting, so flashbacks (italicized text) are in narrator’s POV, while the present (reg text) is in the reader’s POV. 

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Since childhood, I have always stood by his side and took care of him. Whenever people saw the two of us interacting, they immediately assumed we were a couple. Even the employees at LFG gossiped about us, saying that I was Victor's lady but he wanted to keep our relationship a secret. 

Without knocking on the door, you walked into Victor's office, holding a collection of shopping bags. "Hi, Victor. Let me guess you forgot to eat lunch?"

The CEO shifted his attention from the computer screen to you and examined the bags. "Someone had a lot of free time today. Did you purchase the entire mall?"

"Wait, can I buy the whole mall?" You playfully asked while carefully setting the paper bags on the couch.

"If you plan to, warn me ahead of time," the CEO chuckled, removing his reading glasses and setting them on a stack of unsigned papers. He sighed quietly and rubbed his eyes with his right index finger and thumb.

"Why do you take so much stress?" You walked behind his chair, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, and pressed your lips on the side of his head. The subtle scent of his shampoo tickled your nose. "I know you're the CEO, but Vic, you need to rest once in a while."

"I'm fine, (Y/N)," Victor delicately touched one of your arms and whispered, "you worry too much."

"If I won't worry, then who will?" You giggled, resting your forehead against the side of his head. "Now, let's eat! I'm starving."

“You have not had lunch yet?” The raven-haired man inquired in a concerned voice, raising an eyebrow. 

“How could I eat lunch knowing you haven’t eaten yet?”

Victor was aware of my feelings for him; he had known for years that I loved him, so why were his eyes only for her? She had done nothing for him and only caused him trouble, so why? No matter how much time I spent with him, his mind was preoccupied with her. Even on my special day, he was with her.

You waited on the sofa wearing his favorite black, backless dress with a pearl shoulder necklace. Every few seconds, your eyes shifted between the main door and your cellphone. You told yourself that he will walk in or call you any minute. You made excuses to appease your restless mind.

"There must be a lot of traffic, or maybe, he is stuck in a meeting. What if he is planning a big surprise for me?"

Seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by, but there was no sign of Victor. You spent your entire birthday waiting for him, but he never showed up.

The sound of a loud knock forced your heavy, bloodshot eyes to open. Even after the events of the previous day, only one name escaped your lips, "Victor?"

You rose from the sofa and hurried to the door in hopes of seeing your love; instead, you found a shimmer blue present sitting on your doorstep with a purple envelope on top. Picking up the box, you closed the door and dragged your heavy body back to the living room. As soon as you bent down to set the present on the center table, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. Your cheeks were stained by your dark mascara and eyeliner, your red lipstick smudged past your lips, and your hair was disheveled.

"What a mess..." you mumbled under your breath and averted your eyes.

You carefully opened the envelope and pulled out an elegant ivory-colored birthday card. He apologized to you multiple times, but your eyes repeatedly darted back to one sentence: I had to attend to an urgent matter.

"Urgent matter...right," you snickered and hung your head, feeling a strong burning sensation in your eyes once again.

He apologized many times, and I didn't want to forgive him, but my heart refused to cooperate. Did he forget the promise he made to me when we were kids? 

“I promise to always spend your birthday with you, no matter what! I will always find a way to come see you on your birthday.” 

I remember how happy I was hearing those words on a clear, sunny day in our favorite park. The words that I held close to my heart seemed like nothing but an empty promise from him. I didn't want to forgive him, but in the matter of the mind and heart, the heart somehow always emerges as the victor. 

Then came the day where she broke his heart and went to another man. Despite everything, I opened my arms for him and stood firmly by his side. I even stayed with him in his home to make sure he didn't take stress or overwork himself more than usual. As if blessing me for my good deeds, Victor slowly started to open up to me.

"Why are you still awake? It's 4 am, and you have a meeting at 8 am." You groggily stepped into Victor's bedroom, rubbing your sleep-filled eyes.

"I am almost done with this report. Why are you awake?" He asked with his eyes still on the stack of papers in his hand.

"A nightmare woke me up...so I thought to check on you."

Victor momentarily glanced at you before setting the report down on the nightstand. He stretched out a hand towards you and gently whispered, "Come here."

Wordlessly, you stepped closer to him and took a hold of his warm, large hand. Victor helped you onto his bed and pulled a gray cotton blanket over your body.

"Sleep here for tonight."

He turned off the light and settled down on the mattress, facing you. Victor ran his long fingers through your hair in an attempt to help you fall asleep. In all the years you knew him, never once had Victor touched you in such a tender manner.

At that moment, I started to think everything was working in my favor, and life was finally smiling at me. But who was I kidding? Once again, she came back and ruined my life.

"I am sorry, Victor," she hid her face in her hands and sobbed, "I shouldn't have left you. Please, forgive me."

You stood a few feet away watching her cry as Victor comforted her. Then she said the words you prayed she wouldn't. "Please, give me a second chance."

Victor hesitated for a while but eventually gave a small nod, "Fine. Will you stop crying now, dummy?"

A sharp pain shot through your chest as you felt your heart shatter to pieces. Blinking rapidly, you tried to fight back the tears clouding your eyes in vain. You covered your mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping and backed away, step-by-step, your eyes fixed on the back of his head.

Victor snapped his head towards you when he heard your footsteps retreating in a hurry. He stared with wide eyes for a second before squeezing his eyes shut. The corners of his lips tugged down as his head lowered.

I loved him to no end, but why couldn't he see it? Why did he always favor her over me? Was I truly that...worthless? To add to this pain, my family started to pressurize me into marriage, but I refused. I told them my heart only belong to one man, but they didn't listen. Unfortunately, I only had one person to turn to for comfort, so I ran to into his arms and cried my heart.

"I don't want to marry a random man," you cried in his chest, "but they won't stop pressurizing me. What do I do?"

Victor's muscles stiffened at hearing the word 'marriage'. He silently exhaled, placing one hand on the back of your head while wrapping the other around your waist.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained quiet. His silence made your world crumble, and the little hope you had left diminished.

Why didn’t he say anything? Did my pain not affect him, or did he not care? They kept pushing me even more after that, and ultimately gave me a final warning, marry Victor or marry the man they chose for me. My family's only goal was to help their sinking business by finding a rich husband for me. I went to him yet again and broke down completely.

You kneeled in the middle of his office and hung your head low, letting tears drop onto the black tiles beneath you. The coolness in the tiles seeped into your otherwise burning body. "Why are they trying to ruin my life?" 

Victor kneeled in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your upper back. 

"Victor, please do something," you bawled in desperation, knowing that he had the power to change the outcome. He averted his eyes from your crying form and stared at the fireplace, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter. 

You lent me a shoulder to cry on, but why didn't you say anything? That day I left your office empty-handed and angry - not angry at him, but myself for thinking he would help me.  

Then came the day of my forced marriage to a man who I hadn't even seen. From the new reports, I knew Victor was in a different country for a global conference, but I still didn't lose hope. Why was I so foolish? Why did I think he would walk in at any moment and rescue me like a fairytale prince on a white stallion? I waited and waited, but he never came. I should have expected this, but I was such a fool.

Days and months passed but Victor never contacted me, not even to ask if I was okay. Would I have told him the truth if he called to ask? Would I have told him that my husband doesn't care about the marriage or me? That my marriage was completely meaningless. That my dear husband hadn't even kissed me once, let alone touch me. That I was glad he wasn’t interested me because I only dreamed of kissing only one man. That I hate everything, everyone, and was reaching my limit.

I stared at the pearl-like raindrops rolling down the bedroom window and forced a chuckle. It was comforting to know that at least nature cared about me. Was nature crying for me? I tilted my head to look at the cellphone beside me and stared at the black screen. What was I hoping for? He didn't care back then, he still doesn't care, and he won't care tomorrow. Not a single person in my life cares, which I guess is good, considering that no one will be sad.  My husband will find some other woman, my family has their prospering business, and Victor has her.

"Well, l-looks like it's almost time." I turned my head to look at the rain one last time as my vision began to blur. Within seconds, my head began to spin. Probably from the blood draining out of the cuts on my wrist.

"G-Goodbye, V-Victor...I hope you're always happy."

As soon as those words escaped my lips, I felt like laughing at myself for still being a fool. Even in my final moments, I couldn't stop thinking of him.

------

The raindrops continuously fell from the sky, each drop hitting the ground with a loud thud. Goldman followed Victor from a safe distance, curious to find out where the CEO was headed. The secretary nearly lost his footing when he saw his boss walk into a cemetery. He hid behind a tree close to the grave and quietly watched his employer.

Victor crouched down in front of a black granite stone slab and gently placed a bouquet of white camellias on it.

"Hey," he whispered in an exhausted voice as he brushed his fingertips on the rain-drenched stone slab. Goldman watched as Victor lowered his head and rested the flat of his right palm on the grave.

"Forgive me for not visiting for a few days...I was out of the country." Victor blinked his eyes rapidly and forced the corners of his lips up. "I...ate lunch already and..."

Goldman's eyes widened when he heard his boss sniffle. He leaned a little closer to make sure his imagination was not getting the better of him.

"(Y/N), h-happy birt-" Victor choked on his words and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few moments to gather himself before standing up and trudging towards the exit.

The secretary studied his boss's slumped shoulders and heavy footsteps in confusion. As soon as Victor disappeared out of sight, Goldman carefully walked to the black granite slab and followed the bouquet up to the tombstone.

"Let's see...," he adjusted his glasses and read the words inscribed on the gravestone, "To all those reading this, tell the person you love your feelings before it's too late and all that's left is regret."

———————————————

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

[ssamie]

nine. SOFT

suna rintaro x fem! mitsuri reader

(kny x hq)

warnings: spelling mistakes,  2k+ words, italicized words/ sentences are her thoughts, mitsuri’s hair+eye color was used.

gen masterlist.      sakura mochi.

"suna-kun, what is this for, exactly?" she hummed curiously as she held onto his hair 

"f-for my strength of course" suna replied. he was currently tasked to do a hundred pushups by kita after lazing off at practice for way too many times. and he, for some reason, found it a good idea to make her sit on his back as he does this. 

there was really no telling what ran through suna's mind when he thought it would do him well to have her weighing him down

"but wouldn't your arms hurt from carrying me?" she asked with worry lacing her tone as she prompts to stand up 

"no, no. stay there." suna demanded as he pulled her back down on his back 

"well, im not really the lightest girl on the planet, so this may be really hard for you.. and it's extremely embarrassing for me" she muttered with a frown "and shouldn't i be sitting closer to your lower back?" she asks "this position will give you bad backaches" 

she gestured to herself, as she sat on his upper back, way too close to his shoulder blades, while her legs were slung over his shoulders 

"im likely to be quite heavier than most girls since my body mass is quite higher than normal, given the muscles that i train" she said "plus.. my more fatty areas if you may" she mumbled as she cleared her throat and nervously hugged her chest 

"no, no. you're perfectly fine the way you are, bunny" suna dismissed her self-deprecating comments with a scoff 

"besides this keeps me motivated" he mumbled out with a content sigh as he pushed her thighs closer to his face

her hand lightly gripped his hair as she let him squish his face with her thighs. "i don't really get how this is motivating" she chuckled sheepishly

"of course you wouldn't, you're not the one feeling bliss right now" suna said, though his words were slightly muffled "alright then.." she nodded with a bit of hesitance as she felt him tremble a concerning amount 

"um. suna-kun, if you think your arms are about to give out, then maybe we should stop for now" she suggested with a smile as she tries to stand up from his back 

"nah, i can do this bunny" he declined in a nonchalant tone 

"suna , what the hell are you doing?" aran sweat dropped as he entered the gym "oh! he's doing the punishment push-ups, aran-kun" she explained with a smile as suna shakily lifts himself up once more "yeah i get that but-" 

"OI, SUNARIN! WHAT DO YOU THINK YER DOING?!" atsumu yelled as he hurriedly ran towards y/n. the blond picked her up from her armpits and carefully lowered her to the ground 

"ah, that's it. the motivation's gone. i can't do this anymore" suna sulked as he let himself drop facedown on the ground "eh? is your face okay?" she asked worriedly as suna rolled over, showing his forehead which had a reddish bruise forming 

"no." suna responded 

"good afternoon everyone, what happened here?" kita asked them as he entered the gym "suna-kun lost his motivation" she replied with a frown as she stared down at the brunette 

"i see." kita hummed in response "but that still doesn't excuse him from the punishment." 

"cruel" suna mumbled from the ground 

"ah, don't worry! i'll do the rest for you" she said with a bright smile as she gets down on the ground beside him "no, no. i don't think it works like that, y/n" aran dismissed her suggestion as he picks her up from the ground 

"its fine! he only had to do eighty more, after all" she chuckled as she waved her hand dismissively "i can do it quite quickly" 

"y/n-san, you shouldn't face his punishments for him." kita told her with a furrowed brows "after all, you've been a great manager to us, so you don't have to do anything but relax for now" 

she frowned from his words and gingerly poked suna's chest, seeing as he was making no effort to move from the ground "but then suna-kun might get too tired to hang out with me later.." she muttered sulkingly as she fiddled with the ends of her braids 

"yeah, kita-san" suna mused with an exaggerated pout and puppy eyes "i might not have enough energy to hang out with her" 

"suna, you monster" aran snickered as he watched kita have a crisis in his head 

"i.. i see." kita muttered in defeat "you can do what you want" 

"but you really don't have to-" 

"okay, it's your turn to get on my back then, suna-kun!" she said with a smile as she got in a push-up formation "huh? is that really necessary, bunny?" suna gulped nervously "you may not be able to carry me-" 

"alright!" she cut him off as she abruptly pulled him down to sit on her, "tsumu-kun, count for us please!" 

"right right!" atsumu nodded in excitement as he got down to cheer her on 

"you see this, samu?! y/n-chan could probably do this better than you!" atsumu laughed tauntingly 

"hah?! she's probably also better than you, fatsack!" osamu yelled back in aggravation 

"hah?! well atleast i'm better than you!" atsumu defended "we'll see about that" osamu scowled as he got down on the ground beside her 

"fine then, i'll just join to prove you wrong!" atsumu huffed as he too got ready to do push-ups 

"theres more of us now! that's great!" she cheered cluelessly as she gave the twins a grin "alright, i'll count" suna mused as he pulled out his phone to take a video 

"ready, set, go!" and thus, what was supposed to be a punishment had turned into a competition. 

"h-how many have we done?!" atsumu wheeze out as he felt his arms start to tremble "hm, about a hundred and fifty maybe" she answered him with a hum as she continued to push her self up and down from the ground 

"that's way more than needed!" atsumu whined 

"you could always give up if you can't do it, tsumu!" osamu taunted his twin, even though he was facing some troubles as well. 

"hmph, as if! this is easy!" atsumu boasted with a grin "i could do this in my sleep" 

"im glad to hear that, tsumu-kun!" she beamed happily "shall we do another hundred then?" 

atsumu's face dropped as she heard those words leave her mouth. his skin was turning ghostly pale as he nervously laughed in response. "a-another hundred?" he squeaked out 

"yep! suna-kun seems to be enjoying this quite a lot, after all" she said with a smile as she looked at the brunette 

suna was currently taking way too many selfies, which were all taken at a facebook mom angle, while he throws up peace signs and flipping off the twins "alright, now here we see the miya twins getting absolutely bodied by y/n." suna sneered to the camera as he zoomed in on the twins' faces 

"look at her! look at her go!" suna cheered with a playful smirk as he patted y/n's braided locks 

"the absolute best. spectacular. amazing. never been seen before. better than all of you." suna listed out

"yuh, get it best friend" suna chuckled as the twins finally gave up and let themselves drop on the ground 

"ah, over already?" she said "usually i would have to do a thousand for our typical training session with my friends" 

"your friends are not normal! who the heck does that?!" atsumu shrieked in horror "well, it doesn't matter now, doesn't it?" she laughed carefreely "you both did a very nice job!" 

she patted their heads with a proud smile as she handed them two towels to wipe off their sweat "thanks" the twins mumbled out with a droopy smile as they relished in her sweet and gentle touches 

"anyways.." she said as she abruptly retracted her hands, much to their displeasure, and turned to face suna "suna-kun, we can hang out now, now that that's done" she said in an eager tone as she excitedly rocked her heels back and forth 

"yup. thanks again bunny" suna said as he slung his arm around her shoulders "but you really didn't have to do that for me" he said with a lazy hum as he led her to the benches 

"oh, it's fine. it was honestly pretty easy-" 

she cut herself off as she was met with suna's face inching closer to her, while his hand reaches out to hold the side of her head "eh?" she squeaked out as she blinked to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her.

'is he.. is he gonna kiss me?'   she thought to herself 

'im not ready!'  she panicked as she felt her face start to get hotter 

'no, no. im ready! i've been dreaming of this!'  she pondered with determination 

'suna-kun is gonna kiss me!'  she squealed internally  

'then afterwards, we can get married and live together and have a family of bunnies and hamsters! maybe we can adopt tanjiro and nezuko too-' 

"your hair's all messy" suna mumbled as he grazed his fingers through the long braid before finally taking the hair tie off at the ends 

"ah." she huffed out with a blank smile 

she sat still as he took off her other hair tie and started undoing and untangling her braids, leaving her long and thick pink and green hair flowing down in pretty waves upon her back

"turn around for me, bunny" suna commanded in a whisper as he patted her waist to turn "o-okay" she replied nervously as she obediently turned around and kept her hands on her lap 

"your hair's so pretty, bunny" suna whispered to her ear as he started combing his fingers through her soft locks "really? thank you, suna-kun" she mumbled out in gratitude as she flusteredly rubbed her hands and thighs together 

"and your hair colour's so adorable. makes you look so cute" suna cooed as he played with the ends of her hair 

"r-right.." she mumbled quietly as she covered her reddened face with her hands. silence had washed upon them along with the various voices of the team as suna started braiding one side of her head 

"where did you learn how to braid, suna-kun?" she asked in curiosity as she held down the other half of her hair "my sister made me do her hair all the time, so i just got better as time went by" suna explained with a shrug 

"can't say her hair was as nice as yours though" suna sighed "it was like a rat's nest with all the knots" 

her eyes shined in adoration as she heard his adorable reason. she gripped her pounding chest as hearts start surrounding her form "suna-kun, that's so sweet!" she squealed "i never expected that from you!" 

"guess so, hm?" suna mumbled out nonchalantly as he tied her hair in place 

'ah, just as i'd thought' she thought to herself 

'he's the perfect husband after all!'  she cried happily in her mind

"anyways, what'd you wanna do?" he asks her as he proceeded to braid the other side "hm, we could go to the same place kiyoomi-kun and i went to yesterday!" she suggested with a grin 

"he liked it, so im hoping you would as well" she hummed happily as suna ties the end of her braid 

"is that so?" suna hummed "where is this exactly?" he asked "its a secret hideout!" she said "but.. its only a wisteria garden and a private teahouse" she admitted 

"theres also a koi pond by the back, but kiyoomi-kun wasn't able to see it" she said "i was hoping to save it for you" she admitted bashfully 

"for.. me?" suna muttered in surprise 

"yeah.. i went there last night to prepare you food so we can eat by the pond and watch the sunset.." she mumbled "but i was also thinking of doing it at night since the fireflies would light our surroundings and it would look really pretty.." she hummed dreamily 

suna blinked dumbfoundedly as he listened to her ramble on and on about their planned hangout 

"but we could also-oh im sorry" she cut herself off with a nervous laugh "was i talking too much?" she asked nervously "sorry if i talked too much!" 

"people say i never shut up, so you can tell me when i'm annoying you" she waved her hands dismissively "you're not annoying me, bunny" suna said with a sigh 

he took her shaking hands in his and pulled her up to her feet. "let's go have that picnic you planned out, yeah?" suna asked with a small smile "wouldn't wanna let your efforts go to waste" he chuckled 

"okay.." she muttered as she hung her head low. her cheeks flushed a dark pink as she nipped at her lips to calm herself and her pounding heart. 

"y'know, your hands are really soft, y/n" suna said as he brought her hand up to his line of sight to further inspect it 

"a-ahm! please don't do that!" she laughed sheepishly as she retracted her hand and hid it behind her back "why? what's wrong, bunny?" suna asked worriedly as he stopped in his tracks to look at her 

"well, my hands aren't the prettiest so you shouldn't look at them for too long" she said with a shaky smile. suna furrowed his brows and frowned as he listened to her awfully degrading words. 

"they're the prettiest, bunny. i don't get what you're talking about" he said 

"well, my hands are super scarred because if sword fighting, and they're very nasty to look at" she said as she rocked on her heels "or so i've been told.." she muttered 

suna sighed and slumped his shoulders, stuffing his own hands in his pockets as they quietly continued on their way. her usual smile wasn't present as she kept her vision straight ahead. her hands stayed hidden behind her back as well. 

suna slyly side eyed her, debating in his head on what he would do, before coming to conclusion with a sigh "c'mon, im in the mood to eat" he said with a yawn 

he grabbed her hand and stuffed it in his pocket alongside with his. his thumb lightyly rubbing shapes on the scarred skin. 

'what is he doing?'  she thought to herself 

her eyes glistened as she put her other hand over her chest, her heart beating more erratically than before. "if we do this, you won't feel sad anymore right?" suna muttered as he looked away to avoid eyecontact 

"i think so.." she mumbled in reply 

"alright then, its settled" suna huffed out. "were walking like this starting now, kay?" 

"that way no one'll see your hands since you don't like it" he said. his olive green eyes peered at her as he put up a nonchalant facade to throw her off. 

'he's doing this all for me?'  she thought to herself 

'wow.. suna-kun really is the best' 

she smiled happily as she scooted closer to his side. suna sighed in relief as the skip in her step finally came back, as well as the sweet melody she always seems to hum. 

"are you happy now, bunny?" he asked her 

"yeah! and it's all thanks to you, suna-kun!" she said as she swayed her other hand back and forth while the other stays intertwined with his 

"glad i could help, bunny" 

"so this is giyuu's fish, and that one's rengoku-san's, that white one with red spot is uzui-kun's" she listed out 

"muichiro-kun's fish is dead because he forgot about it and it starved to death" she said 

"and this is mine!" she said as she pointed to a certain koi fish in the pond 

"i have no idea who those people are, but let me see yours.." suna scooted closer to the water and watched as the fish followed her finger, which she swirled around the water 

"i named him koi" she said with a smile as she lifted the fish out of the water "you named the koi fish koi?" suna sweat dropped 

"yup! and also because it means love" she explained "obanai-kun helped me name it.. he said it suited me as the owner" 

"it does suit you" he agreed with a nod 

"anyways, you better put him back or he'll die" suna said as he pointed to the fish in her palms which was flapping around in discomfort 

"ah! im sorry, koi-chan!!" she exclaimed as she gently placed it down on the pond "i forgot you can't breathe here!" she cried out as she leaned down to pet it gently with her finger 

"have some mochi!" she squeaked out in distress as she tried to feed it a whole ball of sakura mochi. she panicked even more as the fish declined her offering and opted to swim away 

"eh?! you don't like it?! are you mad at me?" she sulked as she gloomily placed the mochi on a lily pad and let it float away 

suna chuckled and pulled her back by her arm, letting her rest her back on his chest as she continued to sulk "you're adorable, bunny" he muttered with a soft laugh as he rested his chin on the crown of her head 

'so soft.'  suna thought to himself as he wrapped his arms around her.

"sorry about that, suna-kun" she said "koi-chan might hate me if i don't leave him some mochi on his lily pad like usual"

"though im starting to think he doesn't actually eat it and oba-chan just takes it out by morning.." she mumbled "hmm, im sure he eats it with his fish friends." suna said as to entertain her

"but now, we have to eat as well" he said as he took a mochi and shoved it in her mouth

"mmhm. thwanks suna-kun" she said through muffled words as she chewed the gummy treat. suna simply peered down at her, watching her eat with a single thought causing his mind to go in a frenzy

"should i do it.." he pondered out loud as he hesitantly brought his hands up to her face

"hm? do what- eh?" she blinked dumbly and looked up at him with curious doe eyes "what're you doing, suna-kun?" she asked him 

"hmm.. soft." he mumbled 

she blinked cluelessly as he kept on squishing and massaging her cheeks, lightly pinching the soft and plump tissue with a look of amazement 

"so soft." he mumbled once again as he pinched them one last time 

"hm.. what else should we do?" she asked him as she scooted away from him to face him properly. she smiled nervously as suna kept staring at her with his olive green eyes. 

his expression stayed monotonous, almost like he didn't care, but the bright and flowery aura surrounded him, said otherwise.

"should we walk home or take the train?" she asked him "the miya's residence and your home isn't really that far away, right?" she pondered 

"though, i don't want you to tire yourself out by walking" she said in concern "sorry, am i talking too much again?" she asked with an apologetic smile as she realised he still hasn't responded or moved an inch from his initial position 

"its fine, bunny." he spoke "i think i wanna walk home with you" he said as he stood up from the ground and dusted the bottom of his sweatpants 

"i'd like to hold your hand again" he admitted through a yawn as he stretched his arms over his head 

"eh? really?" she asked in disbelief 

"of course" suna reassured her "though, after this i'd like to see you training with a sword." he said "it'd be cool seeing you swing it around and deck some guys, yeah?" suna mused as he looked around the wisteria covered path 

"really? would you like to visit the dojo with me sometime?" she asked excitedly with a grin 

"sure, bunny" 

"i'd also like to meet whoever said your hands were ugly. i'll beat them up."

"ah, there's no need to" she chuckled nervously 

"so.." suna trailed off "wanna hold hands again?" 

"yes please."

[ot3tropetober]

Eliot and Hardison are travel journalists for rival publications who keep showing up in the same places 

Fic for this (~3500 words) is below the read more! Some notes: 

[backstory on why Hardison is writing these comes from this post]

[Eliot, Parker, and Hardison are all commenting on this document, think of it like the chat in Google drive? In-document comments from Eliot are italicized, from Hardison are in bold, and from Parker are plain text] 

By the time Will Coffey stepped off the plane in Dallas, all he wanted was a nice long shower and to sleep in his own bed for once. Being a travel journalist for a leading travel magazine had its perks– a month-long trip across Mexico, for example, all expenses paid or at least reimbursed – but after a month on the road he was dead tired and ready to be home. 

Is this supposed to be me? Why am I living in Dallas? 

Yes, and also, you don’t actually live in Dallas, Eliot, you live here, in Portland, with us. 

I know that, I just– you know what, never mind. 

Well, Will Coffey likes Dallas. 

I am Will Coffey!! 

That’s the spirit. 

The other thing about being on the road for a living was that sometimes it felt kinda lonely, and as relieved as he was to be home, the first couple of minutes after he walked in, turned on the lights, and looked around at an empty place, that was always a little bittersweet. But the only other person he’d really seen in any kind of serious capacity the whole time he’d had this gig was a fellow traveler who spent just as much time on the road as he did, so it just kinda was what it was. He set his keys and his bag down and headed to the kitchen for a beer, but he hadn’t even opened his fridge when his phone buzzed a couple times. It was a text from Sarah, his editor. He’d known her forever– they shared a couple classes in college. Now they shared the stress of managing a print publication in an increasingly digital world. 

“Did you see this?” she had written. There was a link in the next message. “How does this guy get this stuff up so fast?“ 

Will already knew what he was gonna find before he clicked the link, and sure enough, it directed him to a popular travel blog called The Travel Geek, which was a ridiculous name for a travel blog but people absolutely went wild for it. Will liked it too, not that he would ever really admit it, but that probably had more to do with the guy who ran it than anything else. They had…not a thing, exactly? It was hard to explain whatever was going on with Jeremy Edwards, who by rights Will should probably hate for stealing his stories and his audience. But the problem with that was mainly that the guy was so goddamn likeable. 

I’m guessing that’s you. 

You would be correct. 

You think I think you’re likeable? 

No, I know it. 

he is pretty likeable

Yeah, yeah. 

Will had met Jeremy a couple of years ago, right when he was just starting out with his blog. Jeremy said he’d been reading Will’s stuff for a while and would love some advice from a pro. It wasn’t like Will didn’t know it was a little bit of flattery, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know it was a little bit of flirting, either. It also wasn’t like Jeremy was bad to look at. So Will said sure, he’d be glad to, and they were in Belgium, so they shared some beers, ate fries from a baraque at one in the morning on a park bench, shoulders pressed together, while Will tipsily rhapsodized about gaufre de Liège while Jeremy laughed and laughed. 

I have never *rhapsodized* about anything in my damn life. 

Have you heard you talk about food? This is not a criticism. I could listen to that all day. 

Nothing really happened, in the end, just a good conversation and the promise to keep in touch. That turned out to be easier than it should have been, because they started covering the same damn things, all the time. One big world, and somehow they were always sharing part of it: Will was in India on a camel safari through the Thar Desert, and Jeremy was there, keeping Will up at night tappity tapping on his keyboard. Or Will was in Oatman, Arizona, for a piece on Route 66, and there was Jeremy, taking selfies with the wild burros roaming the streets of the town. Or Will was traveling around Japan, doing a feature on onsens, and Jeremy was there, too, acting like he wasn’t looking in Will’s direction while they sat, very naked, in the soothing hot water. It went on like that for a while until finally one night in Barcelona, in front of Sagrada Familia, he looked at Jeremy, tall and handsome in this absurd brightly patterned scarf, and said, “This is ridiculous, man,” and pulled him in for a long, lingering kiss. 

Do you honestly think it would have taken me that long? 

I don’t know, baby, it took your cowboy ass five years in real time, so Will’s doing a lot better than you. 

OoooooooOooo 

We had a lot goin on!!! And what is that supposed to be, parker? are you some kind of ghost? 

it made more sense in person 

I’ll take your word for it. 

It wasn’t a relationship, exactly. It was just something they did, sometimes, if they happened to run into each other on the road. It wasn’t like he was getting invited home for the holidays, or anything, and he was fine with that, really. The long and short of it was, they’d basically been circling each other for years now, professionally, personally, whatever, but the professional stuff was definitely getting in the way of anything else. Because Will would sit down and write out his long, detailed articles with carefully selected photographs that would look just right on the page, while Jeremy had already turned out quick blog entry after quick blog entry, listing off places people should visit with witty little one sentence summaries, and people just ate it right up with a spoon while Adventure., Will’s magazine, slowly saw its sales circling the drain. It stung a little. Maybe more than a little. It wasn’t like he could say the guy wasn’t working hard, but damn. Hell, the best selling issue they’d had in a couple years was the one where Sarah had masterminded a collaboration between Will and Jeremy. Blogging was definitely here to stay. 

That night in Belgium was five years ago, and at the time it seemed impossible that the internet would ever really fully overtake print. But bloggers and phones had both gotten smarter over the last five years, and now everyone wanted their news in little chunks that they could read on a screen during their commute, so travel blogs were the hot new thing. Will grimaced as he looked at the blog entries Jeremy already had up from Mexico, where they’d run into each other at least half a dozen times. 

Five Reasons You Need to Visit Mexico City Right Now; What You’re Missing Because You’re Not in Monterrey; Everything You Wanted to Know About Agave But Were Too Afraid to Ask 

“You gotta be kidding me with this,” he muttered, staring at his phone and thinking about the half-written article he had saved on his laptop detailing the history of agave and how to experience Jalisco as more than just the birthplace of tequila. 

He pulled up Sarah’s number and dialed. 

“I don’t know how we can compete with this,” he sighed, when she picked up. 

“We’re going to have to adapt,” she said. “You know that. I can hear you making a face." 

"I don’t want to blog,” he complained. “I like print." 

"I know,” she sighed. “I’m working on it. Anyway, I’m glad you called, I was going to call you. I need you to go to Italy. Flight leaves tomorrow." 

"No way. Not interested,” he told her. “I just got back to my apartment, Sarah, I’ve been in Mexico for a month. I’m beat." 

"It’s not my fault that you spend half your time on extracurricular activities,” she teased. 

“You can just say sex,” he said. “I won’t be offended. And it’s not half my time. Like, maybe twenty-five percent. Anyway, I get the job done." 

"Yeah, and you’re very good at it, which is why I need you to go to Italy,” she said. 

“I’m not saying yes,” he told her, “and I’m not interested. But what’s in Italy that’s so important for me to get to?" 

"You’ll love this one,” Sarah promised. “It’s a food festival." 

Okay, maybe he was a little interested. "Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said. His phone buzzed in his ear. “I just emailed you the details. Including your flight info." 

"Dammit, Sarah–" 

"Oops, emergency, the printer’s on fire, gotta go!” she chirped, and the line disconnected. 

Yeah okay that’s Parker huh

Yep!

I do know y'all a little bit. 

“Dammit,” Will said again, and opened Sarah’s email to read up on his next destination. 

+ 

The food festival turned out to be a week long international celebration of local food from around the world. It only happened once every few years in October, when a world of people descended on the city of Torino, and more specifically the park by the River Po, where they set up tents and stands and served pretty much every kind of food you could imagine, and Will loved food and could imagine a lot, so that was saying something. It was pretty cool, seeing all these people from all over the planet showing off food that was important to them, sharing it with strangers. It really was the whole planet, too, the way the park was set up you could walk through a continent at a time, with all the countries on it represented at their own space. He figured he’d pay his respects to the hosts first and start with Italy, which was definitely the largest section. Halfway through the displays he found a stall with some folks from Campania selling fresh mozzarella di bufala the size of his fist for a Euro. It was speared on a stick like a candy apple so he could walk around with it, nibbling on the sweet cheese as he checked out the festival’s other offerings. Aged cheeses covered in mud and straw from a little town in France. A swanky tent with wood plank floors where the Filipino agriculture offices had a set up with big displays dedicated to traditional food and heirloom crops. Six different kinds of wild rice were layered in a glass display bottle in the booth dedicated to Indigenous agriculture in North America. There were folks from the Yucatan peninsula displaying cured meats and wild honey. There was a whole series of displays about preserving, protecting, and raising Maasai red sheep, from Kenya. The whole event was really impressive, actually, and even though his body had no idea what time zone he was in, he didn’t feel too tired– although that might have been more because he’d been downing every cup of coffee from anyone selling it. 

Okay, this actually sounds pretty cool. But now you gotta fake a whole food festival like this if we ever use these aliases. 

I don’t have to. That’s a real thing. Happens every couple of years. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the next one. Parker can probably find us a job after, anyway. 

I’d love– like that. 

Hardison. HARDISON.

Why isn’t this deleting the things I tell it to delete??? 

Ooh, forgot to tell y'all, this chat records your keystrokes? You know. Just in case you happen to type something sappy about how much you love me, and then delete it before you send it in the chat. Pretty much exactly what just happened. 

Dammit Hardison I’m gonna delete YOU

Baby, that doesn’t even make any sense. 

im w hardison on this 1. it’s ok if u love things eliot. especially food . or us 

Just let me finish reading Hardison’s make believe story so I can get back to dinner prep, ok? 

(he loves us) 

I know :) 

Will strolled around the park, snapping photos here and there, jotting down notes. He talked to folks from all over who came here to run their country’s booths, locals who had come out to enjoy the day, and people who had traveled long distances to be there. After a couple of hours and a really good lunch, he found an unoccupied bench near the river and posted up there for a while, notebook open next to him as he flipped through photos on his phone, the story he could tell about this event already starting to take shape in his head, and he had to admit, at least to himself, that Sarah had been right about this one. Nobody else on their staff knew food enough to get this right. But even though he had a good idea where to start, he couldn’t help feeling a little overwhelmed, too. You could spend two weeks here and still not talk to everybody, and it seemed important to try, somehow. 

“Well, well, well,” said a voice, and Will looked up from his phone and his notes to see the tall form of none other than Jeremy Edwards. 

“Dammit, Edwards,” Will swore. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Again?" 

Yeah it’s pretty much EXACTLY like that every time

Mmmhmm. You talk a big game, man, but no one here believes you. 

What he said ur like that stuff u put on the dessert u made 4 us last wk

Stuff on dessert– the Italian meringue? You really comparing me to Italian meringue?! 

Is that the stuff that was kinda hard and crunchy on the outside but actually really soft and sweet inside? 

Yep that’s the stuff

This is the worst conversation we’ve ever had. 

It’s weird how I can hear you smiling right now, though.

Shut up, Hardison, I’m reading.  

Got him! XD 

"Looks like it,” Jeremy said. He took a seat next to Will on the bench, despite the fact that Will had absolutely not fucking offered it to him. He grinned. Will looked back at his notes before he smiled back. “We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this." 

"Yeah, well, trust me, I’m working on it,” Will grumbled, and risked a look at Jeremy again. Still handsome, and still smiling, unfortunately. He thought about the blog a little and made himself frown. “So, you’re here to blog about this, huh? How many blog posts have you done already?" 

"None so far,” Jeremy said, scratching his chin, “but I am working on one right now. Tentative title, How to Tell The Guy You’re Casually Seeing And Have Been Chasing All Over the Globe That His Boss Sent Me Here To Work With Him." 

Well, there was a lot of information there, but Will decided maybe sticking with the professional stuff was better for now. "I’m sorry, you’re here for what?" 

Jeremy shrugged. "Sarah really liked that collaboration thing she got us to do last year, I guess, wanted to try it again for this. I said yes. It’s good for your magazine and it gives my blog some credibility with all you snooty print folks." 

"We’re not snooty,” Will said, although that wasn’t exactly true. Maybe they were, a little. He unlocked his phone and saw the email from Sarah, the subject line of which read: “DON’T ARGUE IT WILL BE GOOD FOR YOU/US/THE MAGAZINE.” He sighed and looked back at Jeremy. “I can’t believe she sent you to a food thing." 

"I’m offended,” Jeremy said, although it didn’t much sound like it. “I know food." 

"Oh really? So last year when we were in Beijing and you were looking for a McDonald’s that was just you knowing food, huh,” Will drawled.

“Sometimes you just really want a Happy Meal,” Jeremy joked, and Will just shook his head.

“I guess we should figure out what we’re doing, then,” he said, and Jeremy raised his eyebrows. 

“About the story,” he said, “right?" 

"Yeah, about the story,” Will grumbled. 

“Whatever you say,” Jeremy said affably, just like always. 

+

It was actually pretty easy to figure out how to cover the festival now that he had a partner in crime. They worked out a plan that afternoon, sketched out a couple of pieces, a collab for Adventure., a short guest piece for Will on The Travel Geek, and a short story in the magazine for Jeremy. Sarah signed off on everything from afar– “What time is it where she is? Does that woman ever sleep?” Jeremy asked, as they both got email after email. “I don’t think she does, man,” Will laughed– and they got to work pretty quick. There was plenty to do and they were both here for a few days, so they wandered through the park as they worked, stopping occasionally to sample food or take photos.  Eventually they walked all the way out of the park and into the city, up to a big plaza, Piazza Castello, in the center of the historic part of town. They got gelato from one of the many carts set up nearby for the festival, and sat outside, eating and talking as the sun set. 

It was nice. It was always nice, when they ran into each other. That wasn’t the problem. But they’d been stuck in the same routine for years now: they’d find themselves in the same place, Jeremy would laugh, Will would pretend he was annoyed, and then they’d spend a good chunk of their time together enjoying each other’s company in as many ways as they could find, and then they’d head to the airport and go their separate ways. And that was that. This shouldn’t be any different, but somehow it was. Maybe it was the sunset lighting up Jeremy’s skin, or maybe he’d just been lonely too long, but maybe they needed to figure out what they were doing with more than just the stories they were here to tell. 

“You wanna get dinner?” Will said, before he could talk himself out of it. 

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, smiling again, and this time Will let himself smile back. Just a little.  

They asked around for recommendations and ended up at a little restaurant in the city, a few blocks from the Piazza. They split a bottle of wine, a margherita pizza, and some perfectly fried fish, and they didn’t really talk about work at all. 

“You know,” Jeremy said, about halfway through the wine, “not for nothing, but I’ve gotta say, this looks and feels a lot like a date." 

"I wasn’t under the impression that you’d be opposed to that,” Will said.

“Oh, I’m not opposed,” Jeremy told him, “I’m just a little surprised you’re asking. I figured at this point it was gonna have to be me who said something." 

Will eyed him carefully, thought back to a lot of nights on a lot of trips. "How long exactly have you been waiting around?" 

"I mean, don’t get the wrong idea, here, I haven’t been pining away for you like some Victorian in a bad novel,” Jeremy said, and Will snorted. “But yeah. I played a long game, man. I gotta say, though, after that fishing boat incident in Guyana I really thought you figured out we had a thing." 

"Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to notice, I was too busy taking pictures of you hiding behind that skinny British guy when that big old fish jumped out of the water,” Will snickered. 

“Big old– that thing was two-hundred and thirty-four pounds of ichthyological torpedo headed straight for yours truly,” Jeremy said, and Will chuckled. “Big doesn’t really describe it.”

“Hmm. It was kinda wild he thought we were gonna get in the water with it,” Will mused.  He winked. “Glad you finally remembered you owed me dinner for keeping him from pushing us into the river." 

"Ha. You know Sarah wants us to work with that guy again, right?" 

"Aw, hell,” Will said. “Really?" 

"Yeah,” Jeremy confirmed. “She said she was gonna talk to you about it when we got back from this. Canada this time, so when Mister Fisherman tries to throw me in the water at least the hypothermia will probably get me before the monster fish does." 

"Nah,” Will said. “Don’t worry about that. Nobody throws you off a fishing boat. Except maybe me. No. Well. Maybe. No,” he concluded. 

Hah. I mean, okay, that does sound like me. 

Oh, I am aware, trust me. 

“Sarah maybe also mentioned we might do a few more of these little…collaborative things,” Jeremy said, drawing invisible circles on the table. “Maybe even in a more formal capacity." 

Will raised his eyebrows. "No way she talked you into giving up the blog." 

"Oh, definitely not,” Jeremy said. “But funnily enough, people keep sending me emails about wanting a print version of some of my photographs? But I don’t really have the publishing connections. A magazine, though…” he shrugged. “Me and Sarah figured we might come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement, somehow. Might be seeing more of you, is what I’m trying to say." 

"Can’t say I mind that,” Will said, and reached out across the table to cover Jeremy’s hand with his. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jeremy answered, and this time Will didn’t try to hide his smile. 

/end 

Okay? 

Okay, what? 

Well where the hell is the rest of it? 

What rest of it? It’s clearly implied that they’re dating now. They’re dating, they’re happy, they’re gonna work together for real, happily ever after, et cetera. 

they should have at least kissed. i would be into that 

This is what I’m saying. Where’s the resolution, here? 

Baby, anytime you want a kiss, you know where to find me. 

What I want is for you to take this seriously since you’re making us read all of it. 

Wow, okay. Here: 

They walked around the city for a long time after dinner, still holding hands, and the kiss they shared later under the moonlight felt like a promise. The Actual End. 

Y'all happy? 

too sappy 4 me but idk what eliot thinks

Not your best work but it’ll do, I guess. 

Are you still in the kitchen? 

Yeah, why? 

I’m gonna come give you a demonstration of my best work, that’s why. 

Bring it on, man. 

do i get a demo too

You know it.

[riceccakes]

Earth, Wind, and Coffee: Chapter One Analysis

helloooooooo :) welcome to my chapter analyses for my fic Earth, Wind, and Coffee. here, i’m just going to be breaking down my writing process, choices, and fun stuff, among other stuff as well. you can read this after you’ve finished the first chapter (i’ve excluded spoilers!) or you could read all 45k words and then come back to these one by one. either way, i’m v excited to be doing this so i hope you guys like it too. lets begin with chapter one, shall we :)

some fun stuff before we start!

every chapter title is modeled after the fic title!

you may have noticed that there are two center line dividers in the chapter(and every chapter after), meaning there are three sections to a chapter. going off of this, i thought it might be cool to title each chapter based on the sections, either of its main topic or my favorite part of it. so, chapter one’s first section is korrasami meeting (hence, Meetings), section two is where i introduced Artist!Korra, and i really love Artist!Korra so naturally i had to name the chapter about her (and the thing that brings korrasami closer, Sketches), and the third section is where their friendship is solidified (i think i achieved this by giving their numbers to each other, but i also just thought it was a cute scene, Phone Number Exchanges) and now we put it all together and get: Meetings (Earth), Sketches (Wind), and Phone Number Exchanges (and Coffee) (pretty cool right??? *wink wink*) the same formula is used to title every chapter afterwards. i usually suck at chapter titles but i thought this was a super cute thing to do and it ended up working fairly naturally :)

i started this fic on sept 23, 2020. chapter one didn’t get posted until oct 15, 2020

so basically, i sat with this first chapter for almost a month before posting (which actually was a good thing, i’ll tell you why later!) i really wanted this first chapter to stand out and be lowkey perfect, so i kept writing and rewriting and rewriting my rewrites. then you know, i’d start reading and then edit and then edit the edits; it’s a vicious cycle but one that i’m used to. i finally decided to post the fic when i read the first chapter through and thought “yep, this is it” 

i was inspired by the fic it’s such a gorgeous sight to see you in the middle of the night by softshocks

mostly for the idea of having a full-length fic in only three chapters. buuut, that was also one of the first korrasami fics i read after finishing lok on netflix and i remember thinking “damn, now THIS is how you do an au” character progression in the story is great and not once during the fic did i feel bored or in a lull. i really wanted to do the same with my fic and tried my best

now, lets get into the chapter itself.

sentence structure:

i used sentence structure to (hopefully) show that something is off with korra. we don’t know what yet, asami chalks it up to working through the night, but just like the summary states, there’s more going on here with our new favorite barista, it’s just a matter of what. even with this being in asami’s pov, i wanted to show a sort of disconnect between her and korra. let me show you an example

“Asami smiles warmly, excited to try the drink. She thanks Korra and watches as the girl nods lightly and walks back over to the counter. She begins cleaning the espresso machine. Asami takes a sip from the mug, lightly moaning from the taste. She feels Korra’s eyes peer up at her for a moment. Their eyes meet and Asami blushes, putting the mug and her head down. She opens the binder on the right side, pulling out the pen tucked into the inside cover. She thumbs through to the next clean page and begins squinting at her sloppy notes, rewriting them neatly once they’re deciphered.“

i’ve italicized sentences that, even while in asami’s pov, describe korra’s actions. in comparison to the sentences around it, the two italicized sentences are rather plain and simple. they’re very subject-predicate - “She (subject) begins cleaning the espresso machine (predicate)” you have your noun/subject and verb/predicate, give or take some words for proper english and action. asami’s sentences are more complex. colored in red is what i’ve donned as my classic form of writing, which basically takes two sentences - “She opens the binder on the right side. She pulls out the pen tucked into the inside cover.” and smushes them together by keeping the first sentence as is and taking away the subject of the second sentence and tacking on an -ing to its verb. i’m not sure how writing sentences like this started but i feel like i always come back to it because it gives sentences just that lil bit of edge. the sentences are not super simple but they’re also not super hard to understand. it’s a nice balance of simplicity and complexity, in my opinion.

now in bold is the combination of korra’s - “Their eyes meet and Asami blushes.” and asami’s - “Asami blushes, putting the mug and her head down” sentence forms. it’s a nice little indication that even with this disconnect from korra, these two girls are going to come together and make magic.

this play with sentence structure pretty much continues throughout the rest of the chapter, have fun finding them :))

next on my list is what i brought up earlier! i saved this lil first chapter in my back pocket for almost a month and you know what, it was a really good thing i did. for one thing, asami’s original “tormentor” we’ll call him, was going to be tahno. the same idea of this character being a soccer player was kept but i changed the character from tahno to iroh for a number of reasons:

1) iroh’s connections to the fire nation throne were a biiiig thing in me deciding to change him. 

i loved iroh ii in lok, i thought he was super cool, but we needed someone in this story to be an obstacle for asami to face. we already have her dad hiroshi, and some of you may be thinking “isn’t that already enough??” and for a while i thought so too, but we needed a vehicle to show how hiroshi is an obstacle asami is facing. and i decided to do that with iroh.

2) i really wanted said character to be a conceded jerk and who better than a well known heir to a nation’s throne? (it really went to his head)

tahno was really already a jerk and pretty ruthless character in lok, which is why he came to mind first. and i’d had him only be a soccer star but that was cause for explaining how he and hiroshi have connections. i was struggling for a bit of how to tie the two together but ultimately realized, “hey hiroshi is a business man, he’s bound to do business in the fire nation. and iroh is from the fire nation, he’s prince! he could be a key factor in pulling strings to get more business there” and so that is why i changed tahno to iroh

3) it doesn’t stop there though! at first, iroh was only son of the firelord and soccer star mvp. he was in asami’s stats class but that was it. i realized he needed a bigger role to have connections with hiroshi, which is why he’s now a business major too

this reason is why it’s great i waited!! had i been an eager beaver and posted whatever the first draft of the chapter was, i would’ve been facing some challenges later on, so thanks past me for giving future me some help! this was the perfect way for iroh to be a conceded dick who’s in asami’s life even tho she doesn’t want him to be. i added on the bit about him joining future industries in section two of the chapter and was suuuper glad i figured it out because it helped me envision the rest of the story.

honorable mentions:

korra was going to be wearing a tee shirt when korrasami met but i changed this 1) so asami could leave up ✨korra’s muscles✨ to her imagination and 2) because gloves are a regularly used trope that someone has something to hide. i couldn’t really find a way to give korra gloves but i thought the next best thing would be covering up, so now she wears a sweater.

i googled different types of coffee. The Avatar is a latte macchiato, it’s a play on an espresso macchiato. espresso is added to milk rather than milk to espresso and features more foam than hot milk. i used this one cause i’ve always enjoyed seeing foam art and thought making aang’s classic arrow in foam would be cool. Aang’s Special is a play on his favorite treat, egg tarts. this one is a vietnamese drink and is exactly as i describe in the fic.

earth, wind, and coffee is very much a pun. one so many different levels though: earth, wind, and fire, esteemed multi-genre singing group, known for songs like september and fantasy. earth, wind (air), and fire are elements that are bended in the atla universe and while this isn’t a bending au, it’s still pretty cool. and now earth, wind, and coffee, it’s a coffee shop au. i mean come on, so many layers, i love myself for creating it but hate myself for how much i love myself for creating it.

anything i would’ve wanted to change?

honestly, no. i think because i’d already did all of the changes before publishing, but also cause any time i read through the first chapter, i just feel satisfied. i achieved all of my goals in that first chapter about setting up what would happen and it’s also just a good read.

have any questions? let me know! wanna comment your favorite things from chapter one? do it !! interact with me !! i demand it.

thanks for reading, i really liked doing this :)) (even tho more than once my writing for this got deleted and it was big sad because i’d gotten a good portion done but whatever we’re still here)

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a college roommate deancas AU :)

Chapter 9 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

CW: alcoholism, smoking

note: this chapter is again wayyy too long for me to go through and italicize everything the way it should be, soooo AO3 is the place to go if you want the best experience:))

Doing the Right Thing

Present

It was still pitch-dark outside when Dean woke up. He checked the time. 5:22 a.m. He groaned. A product, he guessed, of getting nearly fourteen hours of sleep the day before. He almost tried to go back to bed, but it was useless. He was awake. Gingerly, he applied some pressure to his stitches. Pain bloomed beneath his fingers, but it remained localized. That was encouraging. Dean sat up slowly. He felt the blood rush from his head, and the room spun a little more than usual, but the spikes of pain of the days before were gone. Maybe he’d be fully healed by Monday, and he’d be able to get Cas back on the road sooner than he’d thought.

Dean pulled on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and made his way to the kitchen, doing his best to not disturb Sam, who was still passed out in the living room. He grabbed his keys off the counter and stuffed his feet into an old pair of sneakers before quietly exiting the apartment.

He could have brewed a pot of coffee, but he needed some fresh air. The argument with Sam was still echoing in his mind. Dean pulled his hood up against the bitter Kansas wind and made in the direction of the closest 7-Eleven.

The roads were Saturday-morning quiet. Dean relished the silence and the sting of the cold air on his face. He usually tried to wait until after breakfast, but he took out his lighter and lit a cigarette, anyway. The burn in his throat was a welcome familiarity. Dean sighed against the nicotine buzz. It had been a few days.

He remembered the look on Cas’s face the day before, when he’d mentioned a cigarette. He’d gone cold turkey sometime around the Christmas before his dad died. Cas acted like it was the most impressive thing anyone had ever done. But, then… Well. Then he’d gone from near-alcoholic to stone-cold sober. He wasn’t proud of it, but he needed something to take the edge off those first few months. The habit was harder to kick the second time around.

Dean reached the 7-Eleven and discarded the cigarette in the ashtray on top of the trashcan. He made a beeline for the coffee machine. Dean grabbed the largest cup he saw, filled it to the brim with steaming coffee. He had just taken the glorious first sip when —

“Dean!”

Dean turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice. He grinned wide when he saw the owner was Sheriff Jody Mills.

“Hey, Jody,” he said, setting the cup down. She pulled him into a tight hug. In the past three years, Jody had become family.

“How ya doin’, kiddo?” She asked when they parted. Dean shrugged. “Bobby told me about your head.”

“Old man can’t keep his mouth shut,” Dean grumbled, garnering a laugh from Jody. “I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Stitches say otherwise.”

He waved a hand at her. “Nah. How are you, Jody?”

Jody sighed. “Same old. Bunch of the force is off for Christmas already. I pulled the short straw, had to work the graveyard shift last night. ”

“Anything interesting happen?”

Jody gave him a look. “No, nothing ‘interesting.’ Although we did have a mugging.”

Dean took another sip of coffee. “Where?”

“Down at that bar on 14th, sometime around midnight. A couple of college kids jumped this poor guy on his way to an Uber. He got a little banged up, and they took his wallet, gave him a good scare.” Jody sighed. “I felt bad for him. Said he was from outta town, just passing through on his way to Kansas City.” She snorted. “Makes Lawrence look real nice, huh? You’re here for a couple of days, and you get mugged.”

Dean froze. “Kansas City? Did you happen to get his name?”

“We did, but… God, I can’t remember it.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“No reason. Did he, uh, did he mention where he was staying?”

“Uh… I think he said the Days Inn.”

“The one right by KU?” Dean asked.

Jody shrugged. “Probably. I didn’t ask for specifics. Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean grabbed a lid and put it on his cup. “It’s nothing, Jody, I promise. I’ll see you around.”

As he made his way to the cashier, Jody let out an exasperated sigh. “Good to see you too!” She called after him.

He paid for his coffee and all but ran back to his apartment. Upon reaching the parking lot, he hurriedly unlocked the Impala and slid into the driver’s seat. Dean’s movements slowed before he could turn the key in the ignition.

What was he doing, exactly? What was his plan here? He had Cas’s phone number. He could easily call him, ask if he was okay, if that was him who got mugged. Would Cas even tell him the truth if it really was him Jody was talking about? The man didn’t owe Dean a damn thing, he’d made that perfectly clear.

And yet… Dean had to know. Despite everything, all of his anger and grudge-holding, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until he knew. With a pang, Dean remembered waking up in the hospital, Cas sitting next to him. He quite literally hasn’t left your side. The least Dean could do now was check up on him.

“Days Inn,” he muttered to himself as he started the car, trying to remember how to get to KU from the apartment. He almost stopped and turned around more than once. Seeing Cas on a normal day was bad enough, but seeing him bruised and bloodied… Dean tried not to think about it. Just making sure he’s okay, he told himself. He’d do the same for me.

Finally, he reached the motel. It was still relatively dark out. He parked the Impala at the back of the building, triple-checking that he had locked it, before making his way to the front desk.

“Mornin’,” he greeted the woman behind the counter. “I was wonderin’...” He paused mid-sentence as something caught his eye from the breakfast seating area. A man, nursing a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper, his dark hair sticking up in twelve different directions.

“Nevermind,” Dean said. He made his way to the table.

“You look like shit,” Dean said by way of a greeting. Cas jumped, nearly toppling his cup. He took a deep breath as Dean sat across from him, folding his arms across his chest.

He really did look awful. Under the guise of concern, he let himself look at Cas, really look at him.  Dean took stock of the black eye and complementary swollen cheek, but his eyes lingered on the full lips and stubbled jaw. Still the same. Maddeningly beautiful.

“Dean,” Cas grumbled, and he sounded like shit, too. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area,” he said, aiming for blasé. Cas sipped his coffee. Dean leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, were you gonna tell me you got mugged?”

Cas cleared his throat. “What?”

“Saw the sheriff this morning. She told me some poor travelin’ dude got mugged outside of a bar.” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sound familiar?”

Cas sighed and folded his hands together. “Yes,” he said. “It was rather unfortunate.”

Dean studied him for a moment, flipping between anger and concern. Cas had texted him after the incident, hadn’t bothered to mention it. “You okay?” He said finally, deciding it was too early to get mad.

“Yes,” Cas said again. “I suppose they were just sober enough to land a punch.” He gestured at his eye. “I believe they just wanted cash, and I’m sure the ID of a twenty-two year old was desirable as well.” He sighed once more. “I’m just glad they didn’t take my phone.”

“What were you doin’ down there, anyway?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a look. “I think, based on my current state, that you can infer the nature of my outing.”

And, yeah, he looked horribly hungover, in addition to everything else. Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure. I mean, why were you getting sloshed at, like, the worst college bar in town?”

Cas laughed, but it was mirthless. “It is not of import.”

“Wh —” Dean interrupted himself with a frustrated sigh. “Okay.” He was tapping the table with two fingers. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have come. “Why are you staying here, anyway?” He asked, just to have something to say. “This place sucks.”

“Because you told me that I would be in Lawrence for upwards of two weeks,” Cas explained. “The rooms are inexpensive.”

Dean just stared at him. Of course Cas would find the cheapest shithole in town. A wave of guilt rushed over him. What was wrong with him? He and Bobby were the ones who wouldn’t be able to fix Cas’s car until after Christmas. Cas was stuck here because of them, because of him, and Dean couldn’t just give up his couch for a week? If he had just done that in the first place, Cas probably wouldn’t have a black eye.

Logically, Dean knew this train of thought made next to no sense. The rational side of him knew he was placing undue blame on himself for situations beyond his control.

That knowledge didn’t make the pain in his chest subside.

Dean couldn’t just leave Cas in that hotel lobby, hungover and nursing a black eye, no driver’s license, no money. He considered his options for a moment. He could send him to Bobby’s. But, no, that would invite raised eyebrows and lots of questions. Bobby was out. He could pay for Cas to stay at a better hotel, one closer to the shop. A quick estimation told him that was a thousand-dollar choice. Not happening. Dean groaned internally. He was the world’s biggest idiot.

“Come on, you’re checking out,” he said gruffly, standing up.

“What?” Cas stayed resolutely in his seat. “Dean, I’m not going to waste money on accommodations, this is fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great, I can tell,” Dean said, the words dripping with sarcasm. “You’re staying at my place.”

Cas looked at Dean like he’d just grown a third head. “You’ve been consistently upset at me since the moment you saw me. I don’t think cohabiting is wise.”

Dean cringed. “Choice of words, Cas,” he mumbled. He yanked Cas up by the arm. “Look, man, I owe you one, anyway. Just…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Cas shifted out of Dean’s grasp.

“You owe me for… What, exactly?” Cas said, eyes searching Dean’s face. Dean tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt.

“You drove me to the hospital,” he muttered.

“Bobby said he’d fix my car for free if I did.”

Of course he did. “Yeah, well, you stayed until I woke up.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Because I felt responsible for your concussion.”

Dean tilted his head back, begging the ceiling for strength. “Look, man, I’m just trying to be nice.”

“What a pleasant change in demeanor,” Cas deadpanned.

“You’re being a fucking idiot,” Dean said, exasperated.

“Charming,” Cas said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re selling your invitation beautifully.”

Dean glared at him. “Are you coming, or not?”

“All right,” Cas relented, but sounded reluctant.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Cas retrieved his bags and checked out at the front desk as Dean waited impatiently at the Impala. The sun had just begun to rise when the two pulled out of the parking lot.

“I’d make Sam take the couch,” Dean said as he drove, “But he’s a giant. Sorry. It’s probably still better than that crappy motel.”

Cas kept his gaze out the passenger window. “Your brother is here?”

It occurred to Dean that the last time Sam and Cas had talked, it was under very different circumstances. He’d almost forgotten Cas’s Christmas in Lawrence. Dean berated himself silently once more. Hadn’t he just gotten into an argument with Sam about the man sitting in his passenger seat? What was he supposed to tell him? Hey, remember when I told you to never speak of my old roommate again? He’s staying with us.

If Dean was honest, he couldn’t even justify the situation to himself. He’d spent months broken over Cas, then years pissed at him. Maybe he was some kind of masochist.

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah. He’s home from school for the holidays.”

Cas murmured in understanding. “He’s attending college?”

“University of Texas,” Dean said, and he couldn’t keep the pride from his voice.

“I look forward to seeing him again,” Cas said. “It’s been a long time.”

Maybe it was the implication behind the words, or the way Cas said them. Dean felt a pang in his chest for the friendship they’d once had. In the early morning light, with Cas in his passenger seat, he could almost believe they’d never lost it. He could almost convince himself that Cas had just moved away. That they saw each other sometimes, grabbed a cup of coffee, reminisced about the old days. No bad blood, just fond memories. The kind of friendship that sits in the back of the sock drawer, a pleasant surprise when it’s found.

Almost.

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. That wasn’t reality, he reminded himself. They had lost that friendship, and there was plenty of bad blood. Dean had made his choices. Cas had made his. Pretending otherwise didn’t do him any good.  

The rest of the drive was quiet. Dean turned on the stereo, and “Whole Lotta Love” played softly through the speakers. The drive that had earlier felt like an eternity now seemed all too fast. Dean was not looking forward to explaining to Sam why Castiel Novak was their new roommate for the foreseeable future.

Dean pulled into the parking lot. He rubbed his face with one hand, tried to remind himself that this was the nice thing to do, that this was what he would do for anyone else, and so he should do it for Cas. Even if Cas made him feel like he’d put his life back together with dollar store glitter glue, and it was about to fall apart at one misplaced breath.

Seeming to sense Dean’s discomfort, Cas said, “Dean, you don’t have to do this.” His voice was measured, but it had a near-pleading tone. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Dude, no, you’re not,” Dean replied, and he felt like screaming. Couldn’t he do one nice thing, just one?

Cas rolled his eyes, a full-body movement. “Like I said, I know you’re angry at me. I also know you don’t wish to talk about it,” he added, seeing Dean open his mouth to say just that. “And I don’t wish to cause you strife every time you decide to use your kitchen or watch television.” Cas sighed, a heavy thing. “I appreciate the gesture.”

Dean closed his eyes. Counted to five. Breathed out. “Cas,” he said. He was doing his best to keep his tone neutral, but Cas was being stubborn, and he didn’t have the energy for that. “Just… Let me do this. Let’s just go inside. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll kick your ass back to the friggin’ Days Inn.”

Cas eyed him for a moment, as if attempting to discover the meaning behind his sudden kindness. Dean told himself he was doing what he would do for anyone. The gesture was devoid of feeling. He was going through the motions of being a good person.

Finally, Cas relented. He opened the door and moved to the trunk to retrieve his luggage. Dean rolled his shoulders and followed suit.  

“You mind hanging out here for a sec?” Dean asked. “I gotta talk to Sam.”            

Cas just nodded, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Dean locked his car and made the ascent to his door.

Dean got to work on a pot of coffee. He almost hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake from the noise, that he could put off the coming conversation as long as possible. But, of course, Sam woke up almost the moment the machine finished brewing.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean said as Sam sat up. “Coffee?”

Sam nodded groggily. “Morning.”

Dean brought him a cup and sat on the couch across from the air mattress. “How’d you sleep?” He asked, stalling.

Sam gave him a curious look. “Uh… Fine, actually. This thing isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought.”

“Good,” Dean said. He was bouncing his leg, trying to figure out what to say. “Um.” Great start.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “What?” He said.

“Nothing,” Dean said. Then, “I just wanted to, uh. Well. Look, sorry for being a dick last night.”

Sam’s eyes widened at him over his mug. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“What?” Dean replied. “I’m fine, dude, why?”

“Well, it’s just…” Sam trailed off and took another sip. “We don’t really do the whole ‘apologizing after arguments’ thing.” He gave Dean a look. “No chick flick moments and all that.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Yeah, no, I know, I just. I felt kinda bad. You didn’t mean to, uh… Anyway.”

Sam gave a little laugh. “Okay,” he said slowly.

“So.” Dean cleared his throat. He should just say it. “Cas is staying here for a while.”

Sam choked on his coffee. After a fit of coughing, he looked at Dean with wide eyes. “What? When — did you — What?”

“He got mugged last night at some bar,” Dean said, looking resolutely at the ground. “So I, uh, I picked him up. I owe him one, you know, for drivin’ me to the hospital and all that.”

Sam eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “I thought you were pissed at him.” He sat up a little straighter. “Actually, if I remember this right, you’ve been so pissed at him for the last three years that I haven’t been allowed to talk about him.”

Dean clasped his hands together and hung his head. “Look, man, I felt bad, okay? I was being dumb not offering in the first place. The dude’s gonna be here at least until the end of next week.” He finally looked up at Sam and gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalance and missing it by about three miles. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Sam looked unconvinced. “Where’s he gonna sleep?”

“Couch.”

“Right. And you’re gonna be totally cool with him around?” Dean didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “What the hell are you doing, man?”

“I told you,” Dean grumbled. “The right thing.”

Sam looked at him with so much pity that it made Dean squirm. “You want me to send him back?” He almost hoped Sam would say yes, give him an excuse to be the total asshole he was.

“No!” Sam said quickly. “No, I’m excited to see Cas. Damn, it’s been a while. I just… Confused. Last night —”

“He’s outside,” Dean interrupted quietly.

“What?” Sam exclaimed. He jumped up from the air mattress. “Cas is here? Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Dean grumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes and made for the front door. He threw it open, and Dean followed behind him, rolling his eyes at the dramatics.

They descended the single flight of stairs. Cas was leaning against the Impala, his small suitcase leaning at his right. Dean felt a smile tug at his lips. The guy hadn’t accumulated much since he’d last seen him, apparently. Seeing Cas smile at Sam, standing next to the Impala, Dean felt that same feeling. Like nothing had changed. He pushed it away.

“Cas!” Sam said, all happiness. “Dude, it’s so great to see you.” He wrapped the other man into a hug. Cas hugged him back with a small smile, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Dean stood a ways back, his arms crossed.

“Sam,” he said once they’d parted. “It’s very good to see you, too.”

“How have you been? Where have you been? You graduated already?”

Dean spoke up at that. “Sam, enough questions, the dude just got the shit beat out of him, like, eight hours ago.”

Cas gave him a hard look. “I didn’t get the ‘shit beat out of me,’” he grumbled, punctuating the phrase with air quotes. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Damn, Cas,” Sam said, squinting at the black eye, as if he’d just realized it. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said.

Sam let out a huff of laughter. Dean raised an eyebrow and shoved him in the back. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam said, regaining his composure. “It’s just… Maybe you two are bad luck together.” He gestured at Dean, “First, you get concussed—” and then at Cas, “—and you get a black eye.” He shrugged. “Kinda funny.”

Dean glared at him. Cas gave him a smile that said in bright neon letters, “this is me, humoring you.”

“Whatever,” Dean said. “Are y’all hungry? I’m gonna make breakfast.”

Sam grinned. “Yes!” He turned to Cas. “Dean makes the best breakfast.”

Cas gave him a small, sad smile. “I know.”

Sam’s grin faltered at that, and Dean was already regretting this whole altruistic move. He just turned and made his way back up to the apartment, Sam and Cas close behind him.

Dean tried to focus on the sizzling of the frying pan instead of Sam’s animated conversation with Cas about how he’d gotten into UT with a scholarship and was studying political science on the pre-law track. His ears betrayed him when Sam asked Cas about his last three years.

“Well, I… I finished that first year at Wichita State, off-campus. I transferred to the University of Oklahoma for the last five semesters. They have an excellent accounting program,” he added, as if that explained everything. Dean could feel his eyes on him, could practically taste the trepidation in his voice. “I was fortunate enough to intern at a firm in Kansas City last summer.”

“That’s where you’re headed?” Sam asked. Cas nodded.

“Hold on,” Sam said. “You said you finished your first year at WSU? So you were in Wichita until —”

Dean coughed loudly. He wished he could have chosen something louder for breakfast, like a smoothie. He plated up the eggs and bacon and offered a dish to Sam and Cas.

“Thank you,” Cas said, all-too earnestly. Sam just rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“‘S no problem,” Dean said. He grabbed his own plate and shoveled the food into his mouth, despite his appetite having abruptly left him at the revelation that Cas had been in Wichita far longer than he’d thought.  

The three of them ate in relative silence, broken occasionally by Sam’s attempts at small-talk. Dean got up and poured the rest of the coffee into a mug, silently setting it down before Cas. When he was met with raised eyebrows, Dean only shrugged.

Dean saw more of Lawrence that weekend than he had in the past three years. He tagged along with Sam to the outlet mall, then dragged his brother to his favorite burger place and the local pie shop downtown. He left the apartment at eight on Sunday to take the Impala to the do-it-yourself car wash. He spent four hours detailing the car, in and out, top to bottom. Once that was finished, he voluntarily went into the shop to finish billing paperwork that Bobby hadn’t gotten to. When the stacks of paper were no more, he even drove all the way across town to one of his old bartending spots to catch up with his former coworkers.

It turned out, living with Cas was easy if Dean never saw him.

Dean knew his avoidance scheme was obvious, but what else could he do? Being in the same room as Cas for more than ten minutes made his head pound, and he was ninety percent sure it wasn’t his concussion. So Sam could raise his eyebrows all he wanted, Dean would still find all manner of errands to run and things to do.

On Monday, he went back to see Dr. Barnes. She checked him over and determined that his stitches could be removed.

“Thank god,” Dean muttered as she updated his chart. “Does that mean I can go back to work?”

She gave him a look. “How are your concussion symptoms?”

“Nonexistent,” he said, and that was mostly true. He still tried to avoid sudden changes of elevation, and he wasn’t about to start blaring music again, but no more pulsing headaches or light sensitivity.

“I suppose you can get back in the shop, as long as you’re careful,” Dr. Barnes replied. “You don’t work on Christmas, do you?”

Dean shook his head.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t hurt to take the whole week off and go back after the holiday,” she pointed out.

“But I could go back. If my boss needed me,” Dean said.

Dr. Barnes smiled. “Yes.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he could get Cas’s car done earlier than he thought.

After his stitches were out, he thanked Dr. Barnes and made his way back to the Impala. He was almost smiling as he made his way to the shop. No stitches, no concussion, and soon, no Cas living in his apartment. His life was going back to normal.

Dean walked into the office, and Bobby looked at him with murder on his face.

“You idjit, you’re not —”

Dean waved a paper at him. “Doctor said I’m cleared for work,” he said smugly.

Bobby narrowed his eyes and gestured for the paper. Dean handed it to him, and he scrutinized its contents intently. With a grunt, he returned the paper to Dean and crossed his arms.

“How much you pay her to say that?” He said.

Dean smirked. “C’mon Bobby, I wouldn’t do that.” Bobby scoffed in disbelief. “You looked at Cas’s car yet?”

Bobby sighed. “Not yet. Bunch of oil changes with holiday travel and shit. I’ll pull it into a bay if you wanna have a look.”

Dean nodded eagerly.

Once Cas’s ninety-something Honda Civic was parked, Dean lifted the hood and started diagnostics. Apparently, the car had just stopped in the middle of the road. There was gas in the tank, Dean noted with relief. Some people ran down to empty and then got confused why the engine died. He checked the alternator, no problems there. He had Bobby turn the ignition while he listened to the fuel pump, but it was working, too.

He sighed as he reached for a compression gauge. If Bobby had been right, and the valves really were bent, he was going to have a fit.

Sure enough, half of the valves wouldn’t hold pressure. Dean groaned. He would have to replace the timing belt, too, then. Bobby was going to regret that promise of a free fix. More than that, though, Dean was regretting his promise of free lodging. Fixing Cas’s car, even if it was the only one he had to deal with, would take at least three full days. But he and Bobby really were packed with maintenance appointments, and they always had dinky little repair jobs around the holidays. Cas was stuck in Lawrence for at least another week. He’d be there for Christmas.

Dean relayed the news to Bobby, who just shrugged and grumbled about how Dean’s concussion was about to cost him three grand between labor and parts. Dean spent the rest of the day changing oil and air filters, performing alignments, rotating tires. It felt good to be back in the shop.

He called Sam on his way home, and his brother insisted that Dean make burgers for dinner. Dean had forgotten he’d be cooking for three until Sam started talking about his second day spent with Cas. Apparently, in Dean’s absence, they had become great buddies, talking about all kinds of nerd stuff Dean didn’t bother to commit to memory.

“Hold on,” Sam said while Dean was in Wal-Mart getting dinner materials. Dean heard a door open and close on the other line before Sam began speaking again.

“Are you gonna get his car done before Christmas?” He asked.

“Definitely not,” Dean said, throwing two pounds of ground beef into his basket. “The valves are bent, which means the timing belt’s fucked too. He’s stuck here until Monday, best case scenario.”

“You should invite him to Bobby’s, then.”

Dean almost dropped the buns in his hand. “I should what?”

“Come on, Dean, the poor guy’s gonna have to spend Christmas alone, otherwise,” Sam whined.

“Dude, not happening.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“Sam, you have no idea what you’re asking,” Dean argued as he made his way to the self-checkout. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to avoid Cas, not induct him into the family.”

Sam huffed on the other line. “You’re right, I don’t know what I’m asking, but that’s only because you refuse to tell me what happened.”

“It’s really not that complicated,” Dean grumbled. “He didn’t want a damn thing to do with me. Ask him.”

“I already did, and he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“What?” Dean was doing his best to keep from shouting in the middle of the busy store. “Why would you do that?”

“You just told me I should!” Sam retorted.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have done it without asking me first!” Dean hissed. He yanked his credit card from the machine and waited impatiently for his receipt to print.

Sam groaned. “Look, that’s not the point —” “What’s the point, Sam?” Dean demanded. The frigid December air was welcome against his face, hot with frustration. “I don’t need you playing Dr. Phil for me and Cas, okay? I can handle my own bullshit.”

“Whatever,” Sam muttered.

Dean took a deep breath as he got into the car. “I’m leaving Wal-Mart now. I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sam was uncharacteristically silent as Dean prepared the meal. He had some documentary playing on the TV. Cas was sitting in the armchair, reading a book. When the burgers were done, Dean delivered a plate to each of them.

“I’m gonna FaceTime Eileen,” Sam announced, getting up to leave the room.

“While you’re eating?” Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Sam rolled his eyes and closed Dean’s bedroom door behind him. Dean shook his head.

An awkward silence settled over the living room as Dean and Cas ate their burgers. It was the first time they’d been alone since Dean had picked him up from the motel.

“This is very good,” Cas said at the same moment Dean said, “I looked at your car.”

Dean blushed at the compliment. “Sorry,” he said. “Uh, glad you like it.”

Cas gave a single nod. “You looked at my car?”

“Yeah, uh, bad news,” Dean said, taking a sip of his beer. “Half of your valves are fucked.” At Cas’s vacant stare, he elaborated, “My guess is your timing belt is banged up. It’s causing the pistons to fire out of time, so they hit the valves wrong. The cylinders can’t keep pressure if the valves don’t work. That’s why your engine died.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What should I do to keep that from happening?”

“Not much you can do ‘sides replace the belt every hundred thousand miles or so. They just kind of break.”

“How long will the repair take?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the bad news. You’re stuck here for at least another week. Sorry, man, it’s just… Christmas, and all that.”

Cas gave a weak smile. “No apology necessary.” He took a sip of water. “How’s your head?”

“All better,” Dean said. “Doc took the stitches out today.”

“I noticed.”

“Said it would still probably scar, but at least I’m back in the shop.”

Cas gave a polite nod but didn’t say anything more. Dean took both their plates to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. Dean got to work cleaning up the burger mess.

“What did you end up majoring in?” Cas asked, and the abrupt sound of his voice made Dean jump. He scrubbed the frying pan intently.

“Never did figure that out,” Dean replied gruffly.

“What?” Cas asked, confused. “Didn’t you finish at WSU?”

Dean put the pan on his drying rack and paused, gripping the edges of the counter, his head hanging low to his chest. He took a breath. Here it was, the conversation he hated having. The one that tattooed “I’m a massive failure” in block letters on his forehead.

“Nope,” he said. He turned around, a scowl on his face. The last person he needed to take shit from was Cas. “Do you think I’d be living in this dump if I had a degree?”

Cas’s brows knit together. “Your apartment is quite nice,” he said. “Why didn’t you finish?”

Dean shrugged, playing at nonchalance. “It was too hard,” he said, the same answer he gave everyone, because it was the most believable. It was the easiest. He could handle everyone thinking he was a grade-A idiot with a GED and a mechanic certification. He couldn’t handle the pity that came with admitting that he simply couldn’t put himself back together after his father died.

Cas looked doubtful. “Right,” he said after a moment.

Dean felt trapped under Cas’s scrutinous gaze. He cleared his throat, selecting the least exhausting of his many questions to push attention back to Cas.

“I’m still surprised you’re not some big-shot writer already,” he said, turning back to the kitchen. He set about wiping down the stovetop. “It always seemed like you were really into that stuff.” As a memory tickled the edges of his brain, he added, “Good at it, too.”

“Yes, well,” Cas said, letting out a slow breath. “By the spring of my freshman year, it became evident that my priorities were misplaced. I spent too much time writing, not enough time working on my accounting classes.” Cas paused as Dean replaced his cleaning supplies to their places under the sink. When he stood back up, Cas was giving him a meaningful look.

“And sometimes,” he said, deliberately, “Sometimes, the things we love can be bad for us, in the end. Despite how happy they might make us in the moment.”

Dean snorted. He knew Cas was trying to make some bigger point, but he wasn’t willing to follow him there. “I dunno,” he said. “Pretty much everything I love is always awesome.”

“Really,” Cas deadpanned.

“Yup,” Dean said with a nod. “Sam, Bobby, the rest of my family… Hell, they’re always good, always there when I need ‘em. I’ve always loved working on cars, and now that pays the bills. Pie. Obviously.” He held up his hands.

“Well, I’m elated that everything you’re passionate about has worked out for you,” Cas said, his tone caustic. “I suppose not everyone is so lucky.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Tension was rolling off Cas in waves. This was good, Dean could work with this. Cas looking at him with some unknown emotion, trying to talk about what happened… The thought alone gave him a headache. But Cas looking at him like he was doing his best not to murder him, like he was insufferable and ridiculous, that, he could face.

A week. He could do this for one week.

But Cas was rearranging his expression into something gentler, breathing deeply through the anger Dean was provoking.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” Cas said with a sigh. “And I know the last thing you want to do is talk about it,” he added, as Dean opened his mouth to say just that. Dean crossed his arms, his jaw set.

“I won’t bring it up again, I promise,” Cas said in earnest. “But you have to know, I only… It wasn’t intentional.” A pause. “I only left because you told me to go.”

Dean felt something cave in his chest. Everything went slack. “What?” He hissed.  

Cas cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “Do you not remember?”

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice a poor attempt at measured, “What are you talking about?”

Cas just stared at him, confused and piteous. Before he could speak, Sam emerged from Dean’s room with his dirty plate.

“Thanks for dinner, Dean,” Sam said. He seemed to have calmed down from their earlier argument. “You wanna watch A New Hope tonight?”

Dean was still staring at Cas, who was studying the ground with great intensity. He barely heard Sam’s question.

“Yo,” Sam said, waving a hand in front of his face. “You hear me?”

Dean blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m beat, honestly,” he said. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay.”

Sam smirked at him. “You’re old, dude.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Night, Sammy,”

“Sleep well, old man,” Sam joked.

Dean turned and made his way to his room. He could vaguely hear Sam asking Cas what he wanted to watch, but his brain was swimming.

Thinking that maybe, probably, everything had been his fault, that was one thing. To hear it, straight from the source, from Cas…

I only left because you told me to go.

Dean closed his bedroom door behind him and grabbed the bottle of scotch from inside his desk. As he poured a generous glass, he sifted through his final memories with Cas, trying to find something that would make those words make sense. He might have spent the better part of that spring in a haze, but he was sure he would have remembered telling Cas to leave. All he could remember was waking up on the floor of their room one morning, his clothes reeking of whiskey, one half of the room empty.

That was a bad day. He’d completely blacked out the night before, and still felt pretty drunk when he’d woken up. He remembered calling Cas over and over again. Eventually, the calls stopped ringing out and started going straight to voicemail. Dean hadn’t left the room that day, despite having a full day of classes. He didn’t shower. He simply remained in the same spot, feeling more and more hopeless as the minutes went by. In his desperation, he’d even called Meg. She told him that Cas had left and that he should delete both their numbers. She called him a fuck-up. She spoke with so much hatred that Dean couldn’t even get a word in before she hung up on him.

Losing his dad, that was one thing. Losing Cas, after everything…

Dean finished his drink and poured another. Downed it in one sip.

If he hadn’t already, Dean had hit rock bottom when Cas left. Long nights bled into longer days. When he eventually realized that, without Cas, no one noticed when he skipped class, or didn’t come home, or didn’t eat, he just stopped. He didn’t open a textbook for the rest of the semester, he crashed on any and every stranger’s couch, he lived off of beer and liquor and the occasional dining hall burger.

Dean stripped off his clothes, the alcoholic haze just beginning to slow his movements. He turned on the shower and got in, the scalding water providing a welcome touch of pain. He stood there, the scotch progressively settling into its neural blockade, but failing to quiet the echoing of Cas’s words.

At first, he had blamed himself. Of course Cas left, because who would have stayed? Dean was a fuck-up, just like Meg said. John had known it, and he’d never let Dean forget it, as if Dean needed any help remembering. He couldn’t protect Sam from John, not all the time. He couldn’t even make it past sixteen without adopting a crippling nicotine addiction. Worst of all, he couldn’t suffer through four more years at home. If he could have done that, if he could have just stayed a little longer, John would have still been alive. Sam wouldn’t have been an orphan at fourteen.

At some point, though, it wasn’t enough to be angry at himself. Because, sure, he was a disaster of a human being, but Cas had known that. He’d seen all of the bullshit, and Cas still… They were still friends. Or, he’d at least let Dean think they were. But how could they have been? The second Dean needed him, really needed him, Cas had bailed.

The shower was spinning. Dean turned off the head and stumbled out, having no idea how long he’d been standing there. He towelled off and haphazardly threw on a pair of underwear before collapsing into his bed.

He laid there for a moment, eyes closed, sinking into the false gyration of the room. Sam and Cas were talking in low voices in the living room, but Dean couldn’t pick out a single word. He opened the drawer in his bedside table, fumbling around for his headphones. His fingers brushed a stack of paper. Dean frowned and pulled it out.

It was nearly fifty pages, front and back. The paper was crumpled all over; stains dappled the text. The first page was blank, save a note written in neat, blue script.

I couldn’t have written this without you. Thank you. Merry Christmas.

-CN

Dean flipped through the pages for what could have been the millionth time. He wasn’t reading the lines of text, only catching a few words here and there.

Dean was staring at the cover page again when a knock sounded at his door.

“Yeah,” Dean said gruffly, setting the papers on his nightstand.

He’d been expecting Sam, but it was Cas who poked his head around the door. “Dean?” He said, “I’m going to use your shower, if that’s all right.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Sure,” he said. “No problem.”

Cas made his way to the bathroom, but stopped dead at the bedside table. He was staring at the papers.

“You kept this?” He said in a strangled voice.

Dean didn’t even look at him, just muttered something incomprehensible in affirmation.

“Dean…” His voice was damn-near pleading. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind back to languid blankness.

And maybe it was the scotch, maybe it was the feeling of Cas staring at him, maybe it was the pages filled with Cas’s words that Dean had read so many times he’d almost memorized it. Whatever it was, his head was pounding, and the effort of holding his grudge suddenly seemed worthless. He could avoid and irritate Cas for a week. Or…

“Can we just forget about it?” Dean said.

“What?” Cas replied.

“All of it. Everything,” Dean said, and he knew he wasn’t making sense, but he didn’t care. “Just… Water under the bridge. Start over.”

Cas was quiet for a moment before muttering a tentative, “Sure.”

“Good,” Dean said, and he was suddenly very tired. “G’night.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas said, somewhere between sadness and hope.

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

taglist! lemme know if u wanna be added :]

@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

[2am-euphoria]

Asking you for writing advice since I look up to your fanfic writing so much!

Aww! Thank you! I’m not a perfect writer by any means, but I’d love to share what helps me write:

-My dad used to tell me I was a good writer because I loved reading. I read a lot growing up and I still do now, though admittedly the only fiction reading I get to do these days is other people’s fanfictions (unless someone has suggestions for fiction books, IF SO SEND THEM MY WAY). I read a lot of nonfiction true crime that feels like fiction though, in the way it’s written- I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara and The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule are two favorites. And I read a lot of clinical reports, which help me remember to grammar and spell-check when writing fanfiction.

-I also get inspiration from screenwriting. Quentin Tarantino and David Fincher are masters at their craft.

-I’m big into the “show, don’t tell” aspect of creative writing, which is also a huge part of screenwriting. I can’t remember where I read this, but there’s a quote somewhere that says something like “don’t treat your readers like they’re clueless.” I know my readers don’t need to get everything explained directly to them, so I try not to write matter-of-factly whenever I can. This is still something I’m working on, though!

-Do as much research as you have time for. I use books, reputable websites (e.g. I’ve downloaded a booklet from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children for Butterflies Out of Reach), reputable podcasts (e.g. In the Dark from APR Reports) and other sources for research on facts.

When I’m researching personal/subjective experiences, however, then I dabble in more laid-back sources. I read a lot of FWB turned lovers stories all over the web for Heart or Hospital (I’m too damaged for FWB so I’ve never been in one myself lmao)

-I like to go back to my favorite shows, books and movies to understand what I loved about them when I’m trying to write. I loved how Mindhunter gave me chills, and I realized it was because of the unsettling dialogue and Fincher’s “show, don’t tell” technique. I used that as inspiration for Sunrise and Your Sins.

-I don’t think this is a good idea for everyone, but I like to incorporate my own personal experience into what I write-just be careful. Sunrise and Your Sins got a little personal for me; Malcolm’s C-PTSD and related depression, guilt and ideations in the story drew much on my own experiences as a survivor of childhood and adult trauma. Using my experiences helped me tap into the emotional aspects of the story. If you feel like you’re getting too close to something in your writing, though, step back-take a break from writing it, talk to someone, and find a book/movie/show that you can draw on instead. The movies Ordinary People (which is also a good book!) and Good Will Hunting can help, for instance.

-I get a lot of compliments on my dialogue... Which is the hardest for me to give advice on. It just...feels natural to me when I write dialogue? A lot of it comes from watching shows with great dialogue (COUGH Mindhunter COUGH)... I also listened to a podcast that talked about each character in a dialogue having their own goal. E.g. in Sunrise and Your Sins, Ch. 6:

I wondered...” He murmured. “I’m glad. Here’s the thing, though: I don’t want you to be with me if I’m a killer. You don’t need this-”

“What do you mean, ‘this?’ I want all of you-”

“If I have to stand trial, when I don’t even remember-”

“Malcolm, I don’t care!”

He scoffs. “You, a cop, having a homicidal boyfriend-”

She tries to take his hands in hers. “You’re not a killer, though-”

“But what if I am, Dani?” He jerks away from her. “Can you prove that I’m not a murderer right here, right now?"

Malcolm’s goal in this dialogue is to convey that though he has feelings for Dani, he’s giving her (and inadvertently, himself) excuses as to why they shouldn’t be together, because internally he’s battling with guilt and distrusting his memories. Dani’s goal is to convey that she doesn’t give a crap about any of these excuses; in her eyes, these excuses don’t matter. But to Malcolm, these “excuses” do matter. Therefore, Malcolm and Dani are on two separate tracks of thought, even if they’re discussing the same thing (being together), and there’s tension in this conversation because of it.

^I hope that helps?

-Finally... If you’re writing creatively for fun like I do, don’t sweat it too much. I write fanfiction as a release from the chaos and burnout I regularly experience as a master’s student. I make no money off of my works, own no royalties, have no sponsors. Nothing I’m writing is saving the lives of the people I care for. If I make a typo, forget to stay consistent in my tenses, write an ungrammatical sentence, get a fact wrong? I apologize, and I’ll edit it when I can but also oh well-as long as I’m not harming anybody, it’s not the end of the world. I barely edit before I post, which is why you guys often see an accidental ‘(ITAL)’ (the reminders I put in a Word Doc to italicize in HTML when I upload to AO3) left in here and there, or a spelling error, or inconsistent tense changes (present and past tense? Those are totes the same, right?)... I admit I do go back and edit my fics often, but I try not to get wrapped up in making everything immaculate. It’s just fanfiction, not a published story, and I hope both writers and readers alike understand this!

This was an annoyingly long post lmao, I’ll go tack in a “Read More” to split things up. Thanks for your support, Anon, and I hope something in this post helps you!

[blogs-of-our-lives]

           I’m sorry to say this, but this may very well be the last of the Blogs of Our Lives post.

           :(

           I’ve had a lot of fun writing for this, but it’s just not what I want to do with my life. And as much as I enjoy it, it’s taking time away from other creative projects. For my tens of viewers, it’s not the end of a chapter, but the beginning of a new one. Thank you all for reading, and believing that I can make something wonderful and funny out of trash. I just want you all to know that deep down, from the bottom of my heart, no matter how much love I have for you all, I will never ever ever love you as much as I hate Brightburn.

             Brightburn suuuuuuuucks. It sucks sucks sucks. I couldn’t wait until later in the post to say that. I had to lead with how trash the movie was, and now I’m going to spend the next couple pages explaining why it’s trash. It’s so bad that I – shitty movie connoisseur, who is making himself watch Days of our Lives and write about it – hated the movie so much that I decided to write a whole paper about it just to prevent someone else from being tricked into seeing it.

           I will start with the only good thing about the movie. The concept. Brightburn is about a young kid (I’d estimate about sixth grade) who discovers he has super powers akin to that of a god. He has super strength, he has super speed, he can fly, he can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and he’s almost indestructible. Essentially Superman. It’s not a particularly original idea, but I was intrigued with the fact that the kid seemed to almost immediately become evil. This isn’t particularly farfetched. In fact, psychopathic traits are fairly common amongst children. The brain isn’t done developing, and in some senses the child is a psychopath. Kids simply grow out of it. Luckily, kids are small, they’re weak, they can’t drive, they can’t vote, and they can’t even get a movie ticket to an R rated movie like Brightburn, which I refuse to grant the respect of italicization. The amount of damage a kid could do is extremely limited. So the idea of a middle-schooler with superpowers is kind of terrifying. Imagine a child without empathy who you can kick your ass. If you tell them to go to bed, they can throw you through a wall. And it’s not a one in a million chance the kid will be a psychopath. Plus, when I was a kid I used to think when it rained somewhere it rained everywhere. It blew my mind that it was raining in my hometown but not in my friend’s town. When my dad was a kid he was terrified of this movie called Killdozer. About a bulldozer that came to life and killed people. In his words, “What are you going to do, hide from it? It’ll just bulldoze everything.” Kids are idiots.

           Side note, I hope it’s not lost on anyone that I italicized Killdozer but not Brightburn. It’s intentional. I respect a movie about a killer bulldozer more than a $12 million movie.

           Anyway, that was the only good part of the movie. The concept. Now I’m going to tear it apart, starting with the pacing. Nobody really knows or cares about the pacing when it’s done right. When it’s done wrong, the movies often feel like they stagnate or are rushed in parts. Brightburn is one of the worst examples I can think of. The buildup just drags on and on and on and on. By the time [SPOILER ALERT] Brendon (or whatever the fucking kid’s name is) turns evil, we had been sitting in that theater for a solid hour. Maybe more. That’s two thirds of the movie (including credits) that was spent just building up. So now, when we finally get the action payoff, it felt like the movie was rushing to the end. The kid destroys most of the house, kills four people, and then blows up a plane in like twenty minutes. It’s like trying to write on a piece of paper and running out of room so you have to make the letters smaller and smaller to fit on one page. But it’s a thousand times worse than that, because the paper had a set length. You could plan out where the letters needed to go and how big they can be. A movie isn’t made with a length in mind. So it’s like reading a sentence but the letters get smaller and smaller for no clear reason. It felt like they didn’t know how to end the movie so they just threw some crap together and tried to play it so fast we wouldn’t realize how trash it was.

           On to the acting. I have no real complaints. The mom and the dad did pretty good jobs. Even the kid did a decent job. At times it was pretty weak, but I think most of that was on the writing.

           Fuck the writing. The Chekov’s guns of the movie were stupid and obvious. In one of the first scenes, the mother whistles during a game of hide and seek in order to get him to whistle back, like an off-brand Marco Polo. My editor literally leaned over to me (like two minutes into the movie) and whispered “I bet that’s going to come back later.” It did. Later on in the movie, the dad comments to the mom that it was strange Braxton had never broken a bone or even got a cut. Like two scenes later, the kid finds his space ship and immediately cuts his hand on the metal. Sure enough, it comes back later in the film, in a way so stupid that I’m going to struggle to put it into words. The mother jumps to freedom from her house and somehow cuts her hand during the fall. She looks at the cut (which is shaped exactly like Bryson’s and positioned in the exact same place), looks at the barn where the spaceship is hidden, looks back at the cut, and says (I’m paraphrasing) “The spaceship! It’s the only thing that can hurt him.” The biggest sign of a bad writer is when the characters think about what they’re about to do, say what they’re about to do, and then do it. JUST DO IT. I remembered the garbage scene from earlier in the film that established the only thing that can hurt him. Who was that line for? Children who weren’t paying attention? The film was rated R. Maybe they assumed the only people they could trick into seeing this trash were too stupid to follow a plot. And yes, I’m one of the idiots they tricked into watching it. Jokes on them, now I’m tearing their movie apart on my blog with tens of readers.

           I’ve told you guys about I, Frankenstein. The movie was worse than that. At least the writing in I, Frankenstein, while bad, followed a formula. There was never a point in which I rolled my eyes, it just in generally wasn’t particularly good. Brightburn, on the other hand, was aggressively bad. It was like all the different facets of a movie (acting, special effects, writing, pacing, visuals) had a competition to be the worst part of this dumpster fire of a film. I’m being too hard on the special effects. They were just wildly unmemorable, not actually bad. But somehow, incredibly, Brightburn was even worse than the sum of its parts. At a certain point, I looked up and started watching the blinking light of the fire alarm. There wasn’t really a pattern to it. I was fascinated. At another point, during the resolution of the movie, a man sitting behind me got out his phone and made a phone call. And you know what, I don’t blame him. It wasn’t like he was taking away from the experience. I was glad he was having more fun than me.

           Something I didn’t realize until now, when I looked up Brightburn on Wikipedia to trash how much money went into making it ($6-12 million, so honestly they used the money pretty well), was that it’s called a “superhero horror film.” I took a class my last year in college about Horror as a genre, and the running theme of the class was the question what is horror? I’ll define horror as best as I can, and you are all free to agree or disagree as to whether or not it’s true. I personally do not consider Silence of the Lambs to be a horror film, though it is scary. It’s a crime film. Even if the film contained supernatural elements (like, say, if Hannibal Lecter was a ghost and rather than breaking out of prison he comes back to life), it would still be a crime film. On the other hand, I consider the movie Friday the 13th (the 1980 film with Kevin Bacon, not the trash remake) to be horror. Even if the film contained no supernatural elements, it would still be a horror film. Friday the 13th Part 1 doesn’t actually contain anything supernatural, but if I mentioned one that does (Parts 2-12) I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to remind everyone that a young Kevin Bacon not only dies in this movie, but also has a sex scene. It’s arguably his strongest performance.

           Returning to my point, a universal part of horror seems to be the haunting. It doesn’t need to be a ghost haunting, it could be a human haunting as well. I’m sure it exists, but a movie about a stalker could easily be classified as horror, depending on the tone of the movie. Hell, The Gift was a great horror movie, and nothing supernatural or even particularly out of the ordinary took place. Looking at IMDB’s top 10 horror movies of all time, it lists The Evil Dead, The Exorcist, The Shining, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween, Alien, The Thing, Nightmare on Elm Street (trash), Psycho, and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Of these movies, I haven’t seen Psycho, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, or The Exorcist (at least not all the way through). In every single one of the films I have seen, the characters are haunted by some kind of being. In some movies, they’re hunted by it, and in others (particularly the Exorcist), they’re tormented by it. But either way, a haunting is an essential part of every movie. In Silence of the Lambs (IMDB rated it as the 14th best horror movie, naturally), the killer never haunts the characters. He’s a menace, a killer, and a danger to everyone, but he doesn’t haunt them.

           Brando from Brightburn never haunts anyone, except for a ten second scene where he spies on his crush, which was honestly more cringey than creepy. So no, it’s not a superhero horror movie. It’s not a horror movie. If you want to call it anything, call it science fiction. The kid’s an alien, for Christ’s sake. Isn’t that like the number one test to see if you’re watching sci-fi? Right now, if you google “horror movies,” Brightburn is one of the first 10 images to appear. THIS IS UNNACEPTABLE.

           I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but horror has always been a trash genre. I don’t want to give off the impression that I’m the horror equivalent of a comic book nerd writing about how The Avengers ruined my childhood and it was all wrong because they got one detail wrong from the source material. [Side note: I really enjoyed Endgame, and at the time of writing this, it is the number one highest grossing film of all time, and honestly it deserves it more than the trash blue cat people movie. It was a really satisfying ending to one of the largest franchises of all time]. Even the golden years of horror, the Friday the 13ths and the Nightmare on Elm Streets and Halloween, are all just… pretty good. The writing was competent, the music and cinematography were original and not bad, but it’s not particularly scary, and it looks like every horror movie will eventually become that way, except for the ones that rely on cheap jump scares. That’s the nature of horror, I suppose. It preys on a current and relevant fear, and as that fear becomes irrelevant, so does the movie. So when I complain about modern horror, I complain about the cheap, shitty writing that goes into by uncreative and unoriginal people that disappoints everyone. Modern horror is an easy paycheck. It’s cheap and it’s surefire. The Brightburn garbage raised $30 million dollars on a budget of $6 million. Pet Semetary, Crawl, and Annabelle Comes Home raised a collective $366 million to a collective budget of $66 million. That is a fucking absurd return on investment. None of these movies (except for Crawl, kinda) did anything different. Pet Semetary was a remake. Annabelle Comes Home is a continuation of the Garbage Cinematic Uni-garbage-verse that spawned from The Conjuring. So horror has become a yearly money-maker for big production companies. Just put out some trash that will surprise (not scare) people, and watch the dollars roll in. Financially, this is the golden age of horror. They can make anything with a jump scare and make MILLIONS.

           I don’t know what the point of all this is. I’m not telling the genre to do better, because it’s doing pretty fine. Midsommar and Us both got pretty good reviews. Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark looks pretty good. It’s not like all the talent dried up. There’s still plenty of creative and original people working on horror movies, and they’re making some really good stuff. I guess it boils down to me hating Brightburn on a deep, personal level, and I’m not really sure why. I watch tons of trash. As I type this, I’m looking at my collector’s edition DVD set of Under the Dome. It’s garbage. Truly truly terrible. But there are scenes I liked. Shots I liked. It was made by people who were bad at what they do, but they were still creative. There’s this one episode where the government tries to blow up the dome, and everyone inside thinks they’re going to die. All the characters, thinking they have minutes left on earth, all finally do something. The plot unravels into something much, much, much simpler, as all the characters stop lying or trying to hide their motives. Everything untangles for just a moment, and after they survive the blast unharmed, it leaves the question what next? Sure, the conflicts were childish and silly, and the character arcs were (to put it nicely) poorly handled. But they tried to do something well, and for just a moment they struck gold. There’s nothing like that in Brightburn. There’s not a single scene that I can look at in the movie and say you’re on to something there. Keep working. If I were given the script and a blank check and told to write a better one, I would strip it down to the foundation. I wouldn’t rewrite it, I would delete everything except the core premise and start over.

           It just really really hurts, having to type out that this movie was worse than Under the Dome.

           I know it’s too late to convince anyone not to see Brightburn. And that’s fine. Sometimes the world moves too fast for you to make a change. But I just want you to know deep down how much I hate that movie. I resent it for wasting my time, my energy, and my money. It’s worse than Days of our Lives.

           Fuck you, Brightburn.

           Thank you for reading. It means a lot to me.

[lavenderlattaes]

pretending. | jeon jeongguk

⇒ summary: There are five times that Jeon Jeongguk asks something of Y/L/N Y/N. Sure, he asks her plenty of things on other occasions but there are five big ones he asks of her. Two of these are the following: he asks her to be his best friend, and he asks her to fake date him. Surely the second one doesn’t turn out to be a bad idea, right?

⇒ [high school! au, friends to lovers! au]

⇒ pairing: jeon jeongguk x female reader

⇒ word count: 14k words

⇒ genre: fluff, angst

⇒ warnings: swearing

⇒ note: if you think you’ve read this before then you probably have lol. my weird ass self decided to just combine all three parts into one, long ass post bc I’m crazy so there’s that. oh well. anywaaay. fricking golden maknae gave me a lot of ideas for this one jsjsjsjsj. flashbacks are italicized (save for a few sentences that need that emphasis)! ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy!  ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

The first time Jeon Jeongguk asked something of Y/N Y/L/N was when they were five: he asked her to be his best friend.

It was a sunny morning at the local park in Busan, and although the weather was absolutely perfect for outdoor activities and for having fun, Jeon Jeongguk was not enjoying it at all. His mother had dragged him outside for some supposed fresh air, because he had been cooped up in his room, playing his video games the whole day.

“Eomma! I don’t want this,” the young boy grumbles, folding his arms stubbornly.

His mother sighs, kneeling down in front of him, her hands resting lightly on her son’s shoulders.

“Honey, just try to enjoy the sun for a little bit. We’ll only stay for a few minutes then we can go home. We can stop by the mart for some banana milk,” his mother smiles, and Jungkook’s face lights up at the mention of banana milk. He nods, grinning widely at his mother.

Cupping his face, his mother pulls him in for a forehead kiss just before she stands up. “ Go on, baby. Mommy will wait here,” she tells him as she sits down on the bench in front of the playground.

Little Jungkook nods and dashes straight for the slides. He reaches the sloping structure and heads for the ladder, where a little girl around his age is staring at it with so much intensity, she might as well set it on fire.

“Annyeong, are you going to go up or not?” Jungkook asks her, and she turns to look at him, her pigtails bouncing against her cheeks. She shakes her head and pouts.

“My eomma wanted me to climb up but I don’t want to, I’m scared.” She whispers, turning around to see her mother looking at her from a bench. She turns back to look at Jungkook, gulping.

“I can go first, then I’ll help you climb. It’s not that scary,” Jungkook offers, smiling lightly. She nods, unsure. She steps off to the side and Jungkook climbs up the ladder with ease. Reaching the top, Jungkook turns back around and looks down.

He stretches his hand out for her. “Come on, I’ll pull you up,” he calls from above.

Timidly, the little girl steps towards the ladder, her legs shaking slightly. Her small hands grip the sides and she puts her feet on the first step, her grip tightening around the ladder.

“It’s going to be okay, I’ll catch you. Just look at me, and take it slow.” Jungkook says gently, his hands outstretched in front of her.

She nods and climbs up the next step, her eyes focused on the little boy in front of him, her legs ascending the steps bit by bit. Jungkook smiles and continues to encourage her, giving her words of comfort and motivation. She finally reaches the top, and Jungkook’s hands gently wrap around her wrists, hoisting her up to sit next to him at the top of the slide.

“You were really brave. I’m Jungkook.” The little boy introduces, and the little girl nods.

“Thank you, I’m Y/N.” she replies, flashing him a wide grin.

“Y/N, you’re cool because you climbed the slide even though you were scared. Will you be my best friend?” Jungkook asks Y/N, a hopeful look on his face.

She nods happily, and Jungkook pulls her in for a hug. “Yay! I have a best friend now!” Jungkook cheers, punching his hand in the air.

Giggling, Jungkook and Y/N clasp hands and sit side by side, pushing themselves down the slide.

And on that day, Jeon Jeongguk was glad that his mother brought him to the park. Not only did he get his banana milk, but he also found his best friend, the one person that would stay by his side for the years to come, no matter what.

The second time Jeon Jeongguk asked something of Y/N Y/L/N was when they were juniors in high school: he needed help with a pretty girl.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N I NEED YOUR HELP,” Jungkook shakes his best friend’s arm violently, earning a slap on his hands from the annoyed girl.

“What is it, Kook?” she sighs, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she faces her overly hyped up best friend.

His face is all smiles, Y/N is resisting the urge to pinch his cheeks.

“So, there’s this girl,” Jungkook begins and Y/N groans. “--she’s really pretty and she sits in front of me in Biology. I really want to ask her out this weekend,” Jungkook tells Y/N.

“Has she spoken to you at all?” Y/N asks as they walk to class together since their classrooms were right next to each other for their next classes. Jungkook falters then shakes his head no. Y/N snorts.

“So you’re going to ask her out but you’ve never spoken to her before, this is interesting,” Y/N teases and Jungkook gasps dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.

“You wound me, Y/N Y/L/N,” he says, earning a laugh from Y/N.

“Oh, come on, Kookie! You can do better than a pretty girl you’ve never spoken to before,” Y/N shrugs and Jungkook places an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer to his side. Out of habit, Y/N leans on him as they walk.

“But I think she’s the one, will you just please help me plan this out?” Jungkook pouts, and Y/N sighs, smiling. She reaches up to pinch his cheeks.

“Okay, okay. After sixth, you good with that?” Y/N asks just as they reach the door to her classroom. Jungkook nods and smiles, ruffling her hair. She rolls her eyes and reaches up to fix her hair.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N. Have fun!” Jungkook says and Y/N smiles, nodding.

“You too,” she calls out and turns around, making her way inside the classroom five minutes before the bell rings. Sitting down on her seat in the middle of the room, at least three girls turn in their seats to look at her. Y/N looks at them expectantly, and the one on her left speaks up first.

“Was that your boyfriend?”

Y/N laughs, and shakes her head. “He’s my best friend.” she answers them and they gasp. “Wow, you’re so lucky. He’s even good looking,” the girl in front of her comments.

Leaning back in her seat, she snorts and says, “Trust me, neither of us are lucky. Fate just decided to throw me into his life for no reason.”

How sure is she about that?

The classes fly by pretty quickly, and soon, Y/N finds herself sitting on a bench by the field, Jungkook lying down on beside her, his head on her lap.

“So what do you want to do? How do you plan on asking her?” Y/N asks him, running her hands through his locks, something he’s always liked. It helps him calm down a lot and he hums in response.

“I don’t really know yet, something simple, I guess.” Jungkook replies. Y/N nods in understanding. “Do something cute, like a little note.” Y/N suggests and Jungkook sits up abruptly.

“That’s it! Y/N, you’re a genius!” Jungkook exclaims, clapping his hands together like a little child. He pulls her in for a hug which she returns.

“I’m so glad my best friend is smart at this sort of stuff.” Jungkook smiles as they pull away. He rests on the bench, looking at Y/N, his bunny smile on his face evident as Y/N shakes her head at him.

“It’s just what girls like, Kook.” Y/N shrugs.

“Still, I’m thankful to have you.” Jungkook says sincerely, and Y/N looks at him, smiling. “Me too.”

“So, how did it go?” Y/N pushes off the wall as she and Jungkook leave the school the following day. Jungkook only clutches the straps of his backpack tighter, looking ahead. Y/N frowns at this and runs ahead of Jungkook, turning around to stand in front of him.

“Hey, what happened?” Y/N asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jungkook looks at her hand on his shoulder and sighs.

“She said no.” He replies and looks down.

“Why?” Y/N asks gently. “She thought I was with you, so she said no.” he says sadly. Y/N heart stings a little at his words.

The truth is, Y/N has loved Jungkook for quite sometime now. It was hard not to love him; he was sweet, caring, funny, talented. He was all good things rolled into one. He was patient when he first met Y/N, helping her climb up the ladder of the slide. He made her laugh all the time, especially when she needed someone to cheer her up. He supported her in all the things she liked, even if he found some of it weird or even if he was completely against it, like her love for strawberry milk over banana milk. Jungkook made her happy and he was more than enough for her. But, did Jungkook feel the same way about her? Well, with what he just said, he didn’t.

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry. Just, leave it to me, okay? I’ll do something about it, don’t worry.”

Even if it hurt her, it’s okay. If seeing the person she loves happy means not being in the picture, then it’s okay.

The next day, Y/N makes her way over to the girl Jungkook likes, clutching her backpack straps tightly.

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” she begins, extending her hand for her to shake. Mi-Cha looks at her for a bit then slips her hand in Y/N’s.

“Can I help you?” Mi-Cha asks, and Y/N nods.

“Yes, actually. You know Jeon Jeongguk right? The guy that sits behind you in Biology?” Y/N begins and Mi-Cha nods.

“Yes, your boyfriend. He asked me out yesterday but I said no because you were together,” Mi-Cha replies. Y/N laughs lightly and shakes her head. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just my best friend.”

Mi-Cha raises her eyebrows at that. “Really? Everyone says you’re together,” at that, Y/N’s heart clenches; it’s what she wanted too, after all. “No, we’re just really close, but we don’t like each other like that.”

Mi-Cha just nods and Y/N sighs. “He really likes you, Mi-Cha. He was so upset when you turned him down. I just want to see my best friend happy.”

Mi-Cha looks away momentarily, locking eyes with someone and before Y/N could look over to that person, Mi-Cha locks eyes with her again. “Uh, okay?”

Y/N’s heart stops but she smiles. “Really?” Mi-Cha nods and a wide grin stretches across her face. “Thank you! Wow, I didn’t think my plan would work, thank you.” Y/N says genuinely. As much as she was against it, this girl could actually make Jungkook happy and that’s all Y/N ever wanted. Even if it wasn’t her.

“Meet us at the cafe a few blocks away from school around 2 pm? I might have to drag him there because he might not be in the mood,” Y/N rolls her eyes and Mi-Cha giggles. “Sure.”

Y/N bows deeply, thanking Mi-Cha. They exchange goodbyes, and Y/N walks away, her heart feeling both sad and happy at the same time.

“Sometimes, you can be so selfish,” Jungkook complains as Y/N continues to drag him by the arm. Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Sometimes, you have so little faith in the things I do for you,” Y/N shoots back as they near the cafe.

“Why are we even here? You know I have to play my games and you come and ruin my schedule.” He tells Y/N as they stop in front of the cafe. Y/N turns around to look at him, hands on her hips.

“Jeon Jeongguk, do you remember how we met? You didn’t want to leave the house but your mother dragged you outside and you said it ended up being the best day ever. That day is happening again and you better thank me for it.” Y/N tells Jungkook who just sighs, and purses his lips.

“Listen up. We are going inside there, you’re going to stay there and do your magic while I go out shopping. And you’re gonna come home, call me around 9 pm, and call me a blessing from above, do you hear me?” Jungkook rolls his eyes at his best friend but nods nonetheless. Y/N hugs him, her heart aching slightly at what she’ll see, and he returns the hug. Y/N pulls away before it gets worse for her, and pushes the doors open to the cafe.

The little bell above rings, signaling their arrival, and Y/N scans the cafe. Sitting at a little table with her hair covering her face was Mi-Cha. She was on her phone, and Y/N smiles softly. She pulls on Jungkook’s wrist, and they walk over to Mi-Cha.

Behind Y/N, Jungkook’s eyes widen. He quickly fixes his hair and adjusts the glasses he has on. He’s so glad he was already wearing his favorite hoodie on.

“Hey, Mi-Cha!” Y/N greets and Mi-Cha looks up, a smile gracing her features. Y/N feels Jungkook tense up, so she side-steps and lets go of Jungkook.

“Hello, Y/N, Jungkook.” Mi-Cha greets and Jungkook smiles at that. “Hey, Mi-Cha.” he greets smoothly, and Y/N fights the urge to change her plan and drag her best friend out of there. She pulls her phone out to check the time.

“Okay, so I have to do some shopping because I’ve been so stressed. Jungkook you stay here and accompany Mi-Cha.” Y/N says but they’re already talking. Y/N swallows and mutters out a soft ‘bye’ before leaving the cafe.

A couple weeks pass by, and Y/N and Jungkook have been spending less time together. It’s all Y/N’s doing, anyway. She set Jungkook up with Mi-Cha. That very night, Jungkook did call her, help her make her decision about avoiding him. Y/N can remember everything that happened that night, the scene playing in her head over and over like a broken record.

“I’m calling you, just like you told me to,” Jungkook sing songs on the other line, the moment Y/N picks up. A sad smile makes its way to Y/N’s face and she sits up from her lying down position on her bed. She swings her legs over  the edge of her bed.

“Oh, and what else are you going to say again?” Y/N manages to make her voice sound teasing and not hurt and broken like it truly is.

“Thank you, Y/N. Really. You really are a blessing from above. I never thought I’d actually get to spend a day with her, much less call her mine at the end of the day,” Jungkook says happily and Y/N’s heart stops.

Her grip on her phone loosens and she stares off into the distance.

“Uh, Y/N?” Jungkook calls out after a few seconds, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Oh! Sorry, I was busy staring at a post-it on my mirror,” Y/N lies. “What were you saying, Kook?”

“Mi-Cha is my girlfriend already,” Jungkook chirps and Y/N feels the lump growing in her throat. She pushes it down and coughs softly.

“Really?! I’m so happy for you! Congrats, Kook! I knew you could win her over,” Y/N says honestly, gripping her sheets tightly.

“It was because of you, Y/N. Thank you. I owe it all to you.” Jungkook replies sincerely and Y/N’s heart just breaks even more.

“I just want to see you happy, Jungkook. That’s all.” Y/N whispers. They hang up after that. Getting under the covers and wrapping herself tightly in her sheets, the first set of tears fall from Y/N’s eyes. It hurt, so much, because she could clearly tell that Jungkook was happy. It was so evident in his voice that Mi-Cha made him happy. But what truly hurt was that she was already hurting yet Jungkook couldn’t seem to tell. After being best friends for so long, has he not known Y/N so well yet?

She was hiding what she truly felt, after all.

Leaving the room of her last class for the day, Y/N heads off to her locker, feeling drained. She loved studying, she loved learning new things, but it was always pretty tiring. She never minded the tiredness of it all before, because Jungkook was right beside her, whining about the lessons and she would comfort him and help him out with it. But he wasn’t with her, he hasn’t been with her lately.

“Hey, Y/N!” A deep, masculine voice calls out from behind Y/N and she stops in her tracks and turns around. She’s met with the soft, charming eyes of Kim Taehyung, a sweet, charming boy she shared a few classes with. He’s smiling at her, although Y/N thinks he’s looking a bit nervous and unsure.

“Hey, what’s up Tae?” she asks as Taehyung stops in front of her.

“Are you on your way home already?” Taehyung asks her and she nods, adjusting her grip on her backpack.

“I am. Why?” Taehyung scratches and back of his neck nervously. “Um, you’re friends with Jungkook, right? People say you guys are really close and all so I thought you know maybe you’d know what to do--”

“What happened, Taehyung?” Y/N cuts to the chase. He was rambling, and Y/N had a bad feeling.

Tae sighs. “Jungkook’s in the locker room, and he’s throwing a fit. Nobody’s sure what really happened but I think it has something to do with his girlfriend.”

The moment Taehyung mentions ‘his girlfriend’, Y/N dashes off in the direction of the locker rooms, shouting out a “thanks for the info, Tae!”.

Y/N pushes forward, knowing how bad things can get if Jungkook is angry. She sees the boys’ locker room in sight, and she doesn’t stop running until she reaches the door. She’s about to burst through the door but hesitates. She can hear lockers being punched, and things being thrown around. She also hears the sound of a few boys screaming at her best friend, telling him to stop.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Y/N hears her best friend and it prompts her to push the doors open. What she sees inside leaves her shocked. The whole room looks like it was suffering from a super typhoon, and her best friend was the eye of the typhoon. Jungkook is standing in the middle of it all, his face full of rage. Y/N probably would’ve run away if she didn’t know him too well.

“Jeon Jeongguk!” Y/N shouts his full name, and the boys that looked so weak and helpless from the sides whip their heads to look at Y/N. It was clearly written on their faces that they were shocked to see a girl in the locker room, much less scream at the angry teenager who looked just about ready to break someone’s neck in half.

Y/N sighs, and runs over to her best friend. He turns around once he hears Y/N and he frowns deeply.

“What, Y/N?!” He shouts and Y/N rolls her eyes, wrapping her hand around Jungkook’s wrist. She tugs on his arm but he refuses to leave.

Y/N groans and looks back around at Jungkook, a stern look plastered on her usually calm features. “I can’t have you being all stubborn right now, Jungkook. So please, let’s just go.” She removes her hand from his wrist and uses both of her hands to pry open his clenched fist. She intertwines their fingers instead because it always calmed Jungkook. She can feel his tense self slowly melt away, and a small smile makes it way onto her face.

Y/N rubs his hand comfortingly with her thumb as she pulls Jungkook with her. He looks at one of the boys in the room who looks at her like she was some superhero. “I’m so sorry. I’d clean this up but I have to take Kookie home,” Y/N apologizes and the boy just shakes his head, bowing at her.

“It’s fine, we’ll take care of this, thank you.” Y/N smiles gratefully at him. She and Jungkook leave the room and Y/N continues to lead the way, not saying anything. There’s a somewhat awkward but comforting blanket of silence in the air and Y/N prays that they get home soon because she could pretty much die on the spot.

They stop by their lockers, getting the things they need before leaving the school. Their hands are still intertwined and despite the current situation, Y/N’s insides begin to melt and the butterflies in her stomach run wild. Although they’ve been best friends for years and she’s supposed to be used to all the hand holding, she’s not. Especially now that she’s fully acknowledged her feelings for the boy beside her.

They reach Jungkook’s house, and they both kick their shoes off and enter the house. Having done this for years already, when they had a serious issue to attend to, they plaster smiles on their faces and greet Jungkook’s parents before they climb up to his room.

Y/N opens the door for Jungkook ad he walks in. Y/N follows suit and locks the door behind her. They break the cheery exterior they pulled in front of Jungkook’s family the moment the door closes. Jungkook sits on the edge of his bed, his head hung low. Y/N sighs.

“Jungkook, explain.” She says firmly. When she doesn’t get a response a few seconds later, she grows impatient. She frowns and just as she’s about to scold Jungkook for not answering, she hears soft sobs leave Jungkook’s lips. His whole body is shaking softly, and Y/N’s heart breaks at the sight. She bites her lip, regretting her initial actions.

Y/N walks over to kneel in front of Jungkook. Y/N wraps her hands around Jungkook’s wrists and pulls his hands away from his face gently. She shushes him softly, reaching up to wipe the tears from his beautiful face.

“Hey, hey. Kookie, what’s wrong? Can you tell me?” Y/N whispers softly, cupping Jungkook’s face in her hands. Tears continue to stream down Jungkook’s cheeks and Y/N stands up to sit beside Jungkook. She pulls him in for a hug and Jungkook rests his head on her chest, burying his face in her neck.

“I’ll be here, okay? Just, let it all out. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me.” Y/N whispers, rubbing her hands up and down Jungkook’s back. She kisses the top of his head, and tightens her hold on the crying boy.

“Sh-she, c-cheated o-on me…” Jungkook whispers a few seconds later, his voice cracking. Y/N’s blood runs cold.

“She what?” She says quietly, not wanting to shout. “I caught her kissing someone else behind the bleachers,” Jungkook begins and he looks up at Y/N, his eyes glistening with tears. Y/N’s heart is in a million pieces, but she’s just about ready to kill Mi-Cha with her bare hands. “I confronted her right away about it of course, because earlier in the day she told me to meet her there but that’s the sight I’m greeted with? Turns out it was all part of her plan to break up with me, because she never really liked me. She was using me so she and her boyfriend could get back together and it worked. I feel so stupid,” Jungkook grits his teeth as he continues to cry, burying his face in his hands.

Y/N pulls him back into her arms as she continues to whisper words of comfort in his ears. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m sorry I ever set you up with her. I didn’t think it would come to this, I’m so sorry.” Y/N continues to hug her broken best friend, as a million thoughts run through her head. She really should’ve killed Mi-Cha the moment she found out she became Jungkook’s girlfriend. Or at least maybe she should never had set them up in the first place. But she loves Jungkook too much; she didn’t want to see him unhappy at all. Y/N can’t help but blame herself, her best friend instincts weren’t accurate this time. She was always right about everything, this was the first time she failed.

They stayed in that position for a bit longer until they both shift positions. Y/N pulls out her laptop from her backpack and she turns a movie on for them to watch. She walks down to the kitchen to grab some food for them, and she makes small talk with Jungkook’s dad.

“You’re really good for Jungkook, Y/N. I’ve always liked you a lot. I hope you guys end up marrying each other,” Jungkook’s dad says and Y/N blushes. “Oh, um, we aren’t together,” Y/N stutters and his dad laughs.

“Really? Well, I just hope you guys become a thing soon.” he winks at his statement and Y/N laughs awkwardly as she bids him farewell. She ascends up the stairs with a lot of food in her hands. When she walks in, she sees Jungkook engrossed in the film and she smiles. She sits back down beside him and offers him some popcorn. Jungkook pauses the movie after taking some popcorn.

“What’s up?” Y/N asks him and Jungkook looks at her intently.

“I want to get back at Mi-Cha for what she did.” Jungkook says with determination in his voice and Y/N grins.

“Okay, I’m down for that. What’s the plan?”

Jungkook looks unsure for a moment and he bites his lip, closing his eyes. Once he opens them, he’s serious.

The third time Jeon Jeongguk asks something of Y/N Y/L/N:

“Be my girlfriend.”

Y/N blinks at her best friend, shocked at his words. Her mouth hangs open as Jungkook just stares back at her.

“Y/N?” Jungkook calls out slowly, snapping Y/N out of her reverie. “I’m sorry, what?” Y/N focuses on Jungkook who had an expectant look on his face.

“I said, be my girlfriend.” Jungkook repeats each word slowly, hoping his best friend understood what he meant. Y/N swallows deeply, her heart beating rapidly at an average of 500 beats per minute.

“I heard that, yeah. But, why?” Y/N asks, trying to fight the blush creeping up on her cheeks. Jungkook scratches the back of his head and sighs. “I don’t know, I just, you know. Want to get back at Mi-Cha, I suppose.” Y/N frowns lightly.

“And why do I need to be your girlfriend for that?” Y/N asks. She wanted to be his girlfriend, of course she did, but she didn’t understand how it had anything to do with Mi-Cha.

“Do you not want to?” Jungkook asks softly. Y/N’s eyes widen at that. “No, no no! I mean, yes! Wait, no, fuck, I mean, yes! I mean, I want to, but I don’t…get it?” Y/N manages to blurt out, blushing bright red. Jungkook’s eyes widen too and he blushes.

“I was kind of hoping you’d pretend to be my fake girlfriend, and we’ll make Mi-Cha jealous and all that,” Jungkook explains. Oh. It’s still about Mi-Cha. Y/N nods in understanding. Biting her lip, Y/N gets lost in her thoughts as Jungkook looks at her, patiently waiting for an answer. Y/N always thought things through, that’s why Jungkook trusts her with everything, especially when it came to decision making.

Did she want to be Jungkook’s girlfriend? Of course. Even if it was all play pretend? Yes. Would she get hurt in the end? She probably would. But will she still go through with it? Yes. Why? She loves Jungkook. It’s always been that simple.

“Okay.” Y/N says after a while, looking at Jungkook. Jungkook sits up straighter. “Wait, really?” he asks, a smile forming on his face. Y/N can hear her brain reprimanding her heart but she brushes it off. A smile makes its way onto her face too, as she nods at him. “Yeah, sure. I’m your right hand man, Kooks. I’m here to support you through everything, remember? As long as it’s legal, I’m perfectly okay with it.”

Jungkook grins widely, pulling Y/N in for a tight hug. “Thank you, Y/N! You’re the best,” he says when they pull away. Y/N’s heart continues to beat rapidly and she just gives him a close-lipped smile.

Well, here it goes.

A week later, Y/N is at her locker, organizing her things for her first class when Jungkook pops up beside her, an adorable bunny smile on his face. They decided to start their ‘relationship’ a few days after Jungkook broke up with Mi-Cha so things wouldn’t seem so controversial.

Y/N hugs her things to her chest as she closes her locker. A smile makes its way to her face as she turns to her best friend, er, boyfriend. “Annyeong, Jeon Jeongguk.” she greets him, bowing lightly as they laugh. They walk to their first class, since their classrooms were, again, right beside each other.

“So, how do we do this shit?” Y/N leans in closer and Jungkook shrugs. “I didn’t really think things through. Maybe we can only do the couple things when Mi-Cha’s around,” Y/N nods as they near Y/N’s classroom. They had ten minutes to spare, so Y/N leans on the wall beside the door as Jungkook stands in front of her.

“I’m not entirely sure about your plan, but I’ll still go with it, just because.” Y/N shrugs and Jungkook smiles gratefully. Y/N looks down at her phone to see an incoming call from her Mom.

“Hey, wait a bit, Kooks. Mom’s --” Y/N stops when she feels soft lips kiss her forehead gently, her phone long forgotten. She closes her eyes, a bright blush spreading across her cheeks. She then feels Jungkook���s hand take her hand into his own as his lips leave her forehead. His lips on her forehead are replaced soon with his own. Y/N opens her eyes and sees Jungkook looking intently at her. “She’s watching,” Jungkook whispers and Y/N squeezes his hand in response. They stay like that for a little longer before Jungkook kisses Y/N’s nose lightly.

He stands up to his normal height, his hand still holding Y/N’s. “Come on, class is starting soon.” Y/N nods and Jungkook ruffles her hair gently as they stand in front of the door to the classroom. “I’ll see you later, bub. Bye,” Jungkook bids Y/N good bye, squeezing her hand softly before walking away. “Bye,” Y/N manages to say, still in shock after the forehead kiss. She turns around and walks inside the classroom to see her girl classmates looking at her like she just won the lottery.

Y/N makes her way to her seat awkwardly, her classmates eagerly leaning in their seats as they look at her. “I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend!” “You guys look so cute together, I’m gushing!” “What’s his name?” They all bombard her with questions and Y/N just sits in her seat, squirming. “Um--” she’s cut off when the door opens and the girls gape, causing her to turn around. It’s Jungkook, walking over to her, smiling. Y/N’s heart beats faster; Jungkook has never smiled at her like that before.

“Hey,” Y/N begins when Jungkook is standing beside her chair. She stands up and she can feel the eyes of her classmates on the back of her head. “Hey, bub. You forgot something,” Jungkook states, and Y/N looks at him confused. “Forgot what?” she asks him. Jungkook tilts his head cheekily, winking at Y/N as she laughs, kind of lost. “You forgot my good bye kiss. I gave you one, so give me mine.” Jungkook smirks and Y/N can hear her classmates giggling and squealing in the background. Y/N rolls her eyes, trying to mask the blush spreading across the apples of her cheeks. She places her hands gently on Jungkook’s shoulder as she leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. Just before her lips could land on his cheek, he turns his head swiftly, and Y/N’s lips land on Jungkook’s soft ones. Her eyes widen as they pull away, Jungkook grinning from ear to ear. “That’s more like it. See you later, princess!” Jungkook makes his way out the door as Y/N stares after him dumbfounded.

That was her first kiss. And it was with the boy she loved, even though he doesn’t know that.

After that encounter, word spread around the school really fast; everyone was talking about Y/N and Jungkook, the best friends that became lovers. Everyone claims that Jungkook broke up with Mi-Cha after he found out about her true intentions and realized he loved Y/N all this time. It was true, except for the part where he loves Y/N.

“So, I’ve got no quizzes and no assignments to turn in for tomorrow. What do you wanna do today?” Y/N asks as Jungkook swings their intertwined hands lightly, making their way outside the school gates. Jungkook purses his lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, his face lights up. “Let’s go get some ice cream!” He tugs on Y/N’s hand as he leads her to their favorite ice cream shop.

Along the way, Y/N can’t help but look down at their hands. Even when they were already outside school, Jungkook was still on boyfriend mode. It was probably because they might see people from school in public so Jungkook was just taking precautionary measures. Y/N dismissed that thought, but then recently, when they had alone time at Y/N’s or Jungkook’s house, he was more affectionate with her than before. Y/N’s brain was saying that Jungkook just got used to how they acted in public that he sometimes forgets to drop the act. But her heart keeps telling her that Jungkook’s starting to develop feelings for her.

They reach the ice cream shop and Jungkook pushes the door open for Y/N. She smiles, rolling her eyes as she walks in. It was still so hard to get used to Jungkook being so sweet to her even though they’ve been pretending for a month already. They make their way to the counter, Jungkook bouncing on the heels of his feet lightly. “Hi, hyung. We’ll have our usual please,” Jungkook tells Hoseok who was managing the counter. The older boy grins as he punches their orders in. “Jungkook-ah, you didn’t tell me you and Y/N were already together,” Hoseok comments as he starts scooping their ice creams.

Jungkook rubs the nape of his neck awkwardly as he chuckles. “Sorry, I guess I just never got around to telling you,” he tells Hoseok who winks at Y/N knowingly when he hands them their ice creams. Y/N groans inwardly. Was it that obvious?

They don’t stay at the shop and instead opt for taking the long way home, something they did when they wanted to spend more time together or if they were avoiding something back at home. Licking her ice cream, Y/N strikes up a conversation. “So, any updates on Mi-Cha?” Jungkook shrugs in response, finishing the rest of his ice cream. He grabs Y/N’s free hand as they walk down the quiet streets. “People are saying that she’s regretting ever playing with me, but I don’t know if it’s true. I want her to tell me personally.” Y/N nods in understanding, all her attention focused on their hands.

Jungkook comes to an abrupt stop, making Y/N look up at him. “What is it?” Jungkook licks his lips, something he did when he was trying to get words out but found it hard to. “Um…” Y/N smiles gently. “Come on, Kook. What’s up?” “Are you okay with this?” Jungkook blurts out, making Y/N look at him confused. “Okay with what?” Jungkook hesitates before replying, “You know, the whole fake dating thing. Is it bothering you?” Y/N shakes her head, making Jungkook visibly relax. “It’s nothing, Kookie. I’m your best friend, and I want to help you whenever I can, however I can.” Y/N replies, her own words piercing through her heart.

Jungkook smiles. He steps closer to Y/N, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. He leans down to Y/N’s height, their noses touching, their eyes not breaking contact. Y/N’s heart picks up its pace and she has to refrain from dying right there and then. Jungkook inches closer, and closer, and just when Y/N thinks he’s going to kiss her, he swoops down lower and licks her ice cream, running away after. Y/N gasps and looks at her ice cream-- the ice cream cone that was left before she screams.

“JEON JEONGGUK!”

“Jimin, I swear, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I might combust and die right on the spot,” Y/N sighs, looking at her locker that was buried underneath a colorful layer of bright neon post-it notes from Jungkook. It’s supposedly the “monthsary” of their third month together, and Jungkook was being absolutely extra about this whole fake relationship thing.

“Oh please, you love it.” Jimin grins at Y/N. Jimin was a close friend, and he and Y/N shared a few classes since freshman year. He was the only one Y/N told about the fake relationship, because aside from the fact that he was her only other friend besides Jungkook if you cut Taehyung out of the picture, Y/N trusted Jimin to keep her secret. She kept Jimin’s secret too, so they were equal. Y/N shakes her head, smiling at Jimin who had a knowing look on his face. Her eyes turn back to the post-it and she smiles softly.

“Hi, you’re amazing” “You always brighten my day” “I better call NASA to confirm; they said the sun was 149.6 billion meters away from the earth but you’re right beside me” “Thank you for everything, from the friendship to the love” “Never ever forget how much you mean to me” “You’re my everything, I love you”

It was all so cheesy, Y/N would’ve vomited if it wasn’t Jungkook. Just as Y/N opens her mouth to say something to Jimin, she feels a pair of familiar, strong arms wound around her waist tightly. Jungkook’s scent fills her nose and she bites back a smile. “Hello, Jeon.” She acknowledges him, and Jungkook kisses her temple softly. “Happy third, Y/N.” Jungkook grins at Jimin who was looking at them, a huge smile on his face. “Hey, Jiminie.” “Hey, Jungkook. I see you went all out,” Jimin comments, letting his eyes wander to Y/N’s locker and Jungkook smiles brightly. “Of course, I had to! Anything for my queen,” Jungkook replies as he kisses the crown of Y/N’s head. “Did you like it?” Jungkook whispers in Y/N’s ear and having known him for years, Y/N can sense his…nervousness?

Turning around in his embrace, Y/N cups his cheeks and kisses his nose softly. He scrunches up his face, laughing. “I did. Thank you for this,” Y/N tells him, rubbing her thumbs across his smiling cheeks softly. Jungkook leans down to press a soft, sweet kiss to her lips, and Y/N has to control the butterflies running wild in her stomach as she responds to the kiss. Jungkook pushes her so she’s resting her back on her locker. Y/N’s hands rest on his shoulders. There wasn’t anything explicit about the kiss; it was pure and innocent and Y/N thinks she loves it better than a kiss with tongue. This one held love, not lust.

Pulling away from the kiss, they both had grins on their faces. Jungkook’s face grows serious, and he licks his lips. “Y/N, I--” “Jungkook, can I talk to you?” a feminine voice from behind Jungkook interrupts him and he turns around, coming face to face with the reason this all started, Mi-Cha. “Uh…” Jungkook trails off as he turns back to look at Y/N who had an unreadable expression on her face. “It’s important.” Mi-Cha says, her voice firm and her hands on her hips. Jungkook sighs and removes his hands from Y/N’s waist. Y/N wraps her hand around Jungkook’s wrist. “It’s cool, Kookie. I’ll go look for Jimin. Just meet up with us at our usual spot, okay?” Jungkook nods reluctantly and Y/N stands up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Turning around, he sees Mi-Cha looking at him impatiently. He groans inwardly, and trudges behind her. Looking back at Y/N, she smiles at him before turning around to look for Jimin, who disappeared sometime during their intimate moment together. Jungkook follows Mi-Cha outside the school buildings and she leads him to the bleachers. Jungkook wants to laugh; the last time Mi-Cha brought him to the bleachers, she broke up with him. What does she want now?

They stop in the very spot where they broke up, and Mi-Cha turns around. She crosses her arms and glares at Jungkook. “You and Y/N can drop the act now, Jungkook. It’s not working.” Jungkook looks at her, confused. “What are you talking about?” “You’re obviously trying to make me jealous, Jungkook. I know how boys play this game.” Mi-Cha say, her statement immediately pissing Jungkook off. “Well, you thought wrong, Mi-Cha. And while you’ve probably done this shit a hundred times and gotten the same result from the previous guys you’ve dated, exclude me. I’m not one of them,” Jungkook shoots back, rolling his eyes.

Mi-Cha stomps her foot, her face growing red by the second. “You don’t even like Y/N! You like girls like me, Y/N is too plain and ordinary, she isn’t even beautiful! She can’t even reach up to be half the person I am!” If her previous statement pissed him off, this one infuriated him. “Why do you care?! Listen here, Mi-Cha and listen well because I’m not going to repeat just because you’re too deaf and too stupid to understand. I didn’t date Y/N because I wanted to make you jealous; I dated her because she’s so much better than you in so many fucking ways. She’s sweet, nice, gentle, smart, selfless and she will never be like you--a self-centered, egotistical bitch who only cares about her looks and how many boys she got to date. And she isn’t beautiful like you because her beauty isn’t earthly like yours, it’s ethereal and maybe your dumb brain doesn’t know what that means but I don’t fucking care. And you’re right, I don’t like her because I love her. And if you don’t have anything better to say about us, you can go get your fucking spoon of shut the fuck up.” Jungkook finishes in a rage, walking away from the bleachers, and an embarrassed Mi-Cha.

Jungkook’s hands clench into fists tightly as he quickly makes his way inside the school. His own words ring in his ears over and over again, making his movements slow down a bit. And you’re right, I don’t like her because I love her.

Jungkook didn’t realize it at first; how his world seemed brighter when Y/N was around, how he always yearned for her company, how he craved her kisses and her hugs, how he simply needed her. Y/N made everything beautiful, she made everything better. And Jungkook thinks that he’s stupid to not have how noticed before how his very own best friend was absolute perfection. It took Mi-Cha’s pathetic insults for Jungkook to realize he actually loves his best friend.

“Jungkook!” Jungkook’s head snaps up when he sees her running up to him. He stops when she reaches him. Y/N immediately cups his cheeks, forcing him to look into her beautiful eyes.

“What happened? What did Mi-Cha say? People were saying that you screamed at each other. Are you okay?” Y/N asks worriedly. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, only grabbing Y/N’s hand as he leads her upstairs to the rooftop.

Jungkook storms to the far end of the rooftop, leading Y/N along. He sighs, closing his eyes as he leans against the wall of the rooftop, letting go of Y/N’s hand weakly.

Y/N’s heart aches for her best friend, watching the way he’s slumped on wall, he looks so sad. “Hey, what happened? You know you can tell me right?” Y/N begins gently, latching her soft hand on Jungkook’s wrist, tugging on it so he would face her. Jungkook obliges weakly, his eyes looking down on the ground. Y/N lets go of his wrist, and steps closer to him. She gently cups Jungkook’s chin in her hands, bringing it up to face him. They’re face to face but Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on his shoes. Y/N rubs her thumbs on his cheekbones gently, hoping it would get his attention like it always has.

And it did. Looking up at Y/N’s eyes, Jungkook bites lower his lip softly. “Hey, Guk. Will you please talk to me?” Jungkook sighs. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it, okay? Did she want to get back with you? If so, then I guess we’ll have to--” “She said we were fake dating,” Jungkook cuts Y/N off, because he didn’t want to hear her say that she would be okay with ending things and because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Y/N pauses. “Um, well, I guess we kind of are?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s besides the point. The thing is, she said some things about you, things I couldn’t bear to hear. Mi-Cha said you were too plain and ordinary, she said you weren’t even beautiful, that you can’t even reach up to be half the person she was.” Jungkook repeats what Mi-Cha had said, word for word. Her words had kept repeating in his head over and over again like a broken record. Y/N bit her lip. Removing her hands from Jungkook’s chin, she rubs her arms gently.

“It’s okay, some of what she said was true anyway. I’m too plain, too boring, I’m not even pretty,” Y/N tears her eyes away from Jungkook’s, making Jungkook’s heart ache. The girl he loves thought she wasn’t beautiful, she thought she wasn’t half the person he used to like, but boy was she wrong.

Jungkook immediately cups Y/N’s face in his hands, making her face him. His action catches her off guard as she stumbles lightly and Jungkook’s left hand leaves Y/N’s face to wrap around her waist, steadying her. “Y/L/N Y/N, listen to me. You’re not all those things Mi-Cha said, okay? And she knows that too, I shouted it all at her. You’re sweet, nice, gentle, smart, selfless and everything she’s not. You’re an amazing person, Y/N. You’re perfect and I don’t want you ever thinking that you’re not.” Jungkook says all this, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s, his grip on her waist not loosening.

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat, her heartbeat quickening its pace. Jungkook seems to realize all that he’s said too, and his own heartbeat quickens its pace. When he feels his cheeks start to burn up, he pulls Y/N in closer and presses a sweet kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes. He feels Y/N’s hands wrap around his wrists and he can feel her visibly relax.

“Thank you, Kookie. For everything. I’m so lucky to have you.” Y/N whispers softly. Jungkook smiles. “Of course, Y/N. And thank you, too.” He pulls her in for a hug and Jungkook can feel her smile. He closes his eyes, hugging her tightly.

Later that night, Jungkook’s phone rings. He tears his eyes away from the framed photo of him and Y/N resting on his desk and grabs his phone from the bedside. He unlocks it to see a text from the girl.

He smiles then puts his phone back down. Looking up at the ceiling, Jungkook can’t help but let his thoughts drift to Y/N and everything about her; her smile, her giggle, the way her eyes lit up whenever they buy ice cream, literally everything about her makes Jungkook’s heart warm up. Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. His best friend had always been like this, so why hasn’t he fallen for her before? Maybe it was because he refused to see her in another light and possibly risk their friendship. Maybe it was because he was always too blind to see that she was right there beside him, always looking for someone else.

Whatever it was, Jungkook doesn’t care anymore. All her cares right now is that he really, truly, loves Y/N and he’s determined to let her know that. Because she deserves to know that, and he wants her to know that.

Jungkook falls asleep a few hours later, simply because he couldn’t stop thinking about the hundreds of thousands of ways on how he’s going to tell Y/N that he loves her. Yet, even though he falls asleep early into the morning, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

“Where is he?” Y/N whispers to herself, clutching her books to her chest, Y/N scans the sea of students in the hallway. It’s almost 8 o’clock, but Y/N can’t see Jungkook anywhere. He was supposed to walk her to class but he was still nowhere to be found. Y/N sighs and adjusts the backpack resting on her shoulders as she makes her way to class alone.

“Hey, Y/N. Where’s Jungkook?” Jimin falls in step with Y/N as she walks the last few steps to her classroom. Y/N looks at Jimin and shrugs. “I don’t actually know, Chim. He’s not answering any of my texts or calls.” Jimin smiles and places a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder as they stand outside her room. “I think he’s just running a bit late. Don’t worry too much, okay? You’ll see him at lunch.” Y/N smiles gratefully at Jimin who squeezes her hand in return as they part ways.

Walking outside of her last class for the morning, Y/N sighs, her backpack and stuff weighing down her already drained self. She definitely needs some banana milk and cookies n’ cream ice cream. She looks up to look for Jungkook but doesn’t see him anywhere. Biting her lip, she takes the route going to her locker, deciding to just drop some books off before heading to the cafeteria for lunch. Jungkook wasn’t there to carry her stuff and it was super heavy.

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” Y/N hears a deep voice and when she turns around, a smile graces her features. “Tae! Hey, what’s up?” She waits for the sweet boy to catch up to her. “Nothing, it’s just been a while,” Taehyung replies as he reaches her. Y/N smiles. “Hey, let me carry those for you, they seem heavy,” Taehyung reaches for the books in Y/N’s arms and although Y/N wants to refuse, she’s too hungry and tired to say otherwise.

“Thanks, I would’ve refused but I’m super hungry and tired,” she laughs and Tae laughs along. “That’s okay. I just wanted to catch up with you, we haven’t really had the time to talk during class,” he replies as they walk to Y/N’s locker. Y/N nods in agreement. “Yeah, and Jungkook’s always sticking to me,” Y/N giggles, blushing. Taehyung gives her his boxy smile, “You guys are absolutely adorable. The whole school loves you. You looked better than when Jungkook was dating Mi-Cha.” Y/N gently pushes Taehyung, flustered by his comment. “Stoooooop, you’re making me all giggly and flustered,” Y/N whines. “Aw, come on, Y/N. You have to admit, you guys are the power couple of the school,” Tae tells her as she laughs, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, speaking of which, I see your man,” Taehyung teases and Y/N looks up to see Jungkook standing a few meters away from them, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Kookie!” Y/N smiles at him, waving. Y/N and Tae walk closer as Jungkook starts walking too. Just as he’s within reach, instead of getting the usual forehead kiss from him, Jungkook brushes past them coldly. Y/N and Taehyung stop walking. “What’s up with him?” Taehyung asks innocently as Y/N feels her heart break. She turns to Taehyung, biting her lip. “Can I leave my books with you for now? I need to go talk to him,” Y/N glances at Jungkook’s figure, watching him make his way up to the rooftop. Taehyung smiles in understanding. “Sure thing, Y/N. I’ll be at the cafeteria,” he replies and Y/N bows lightly, running up to the rooftop.

She pushes the doors to the rooftop open, and looks around the area. Her eyes land on the exact spot where they were yesterday. Jungkook’s back is facing her, and he’s taking deep breaths. Y/N bites her lip as she slowly makes her way to Jungkook. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His answer is cold and short. “Really? Doesn’t sound like it,” Y/N presses gently. Jungkook whips around to face her and she stumbles back lightly. “Who was that guy?” Jungkook interrogates and Y/N frowns.

“What do you mean? Who are you talking about, Jungkook? Is it Taehyung? I thought you knew him, he’s my friend,” Y/N replies, confused. “Well, I don’t. I only know about Jimin,” Jungkook says stubbornly.

“What’s wrong with Taehyung? We share one class together, am I not allowed to have other friends besides you and Jimin?” Y/N’s starting to get annoyed with the whole thing, it was getting stupid.

“Are you sure he’s really just a friend? It doesn’t look like that at all,” Jungkook shoots back and Y/N runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “Yes! What’s so bad about Taehyung anyway? Do you have a problem with him?” Y/N asks Jungkook, who already had his arms folded in front of him.

“Everything! It’s clear to see that he likes you! How can you not see that?” Jungkook groans and Y/N is definitely pissed at this point. “That’s because he doesn’t like me! Jungkook, you’re being delusional! Taehyung only sees me as a friend, okay?” Y/N shouts.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t care, I want you to stay away from him,” he orders and Y/N scoffs. “ I’m not going to do that. You can’t tell me who to hang out with and who not to hang out with,” Y/N folds her arms stubbornly, glaring at Jungkook.

“Yes, I can, I’m your boyfriend!” Jungkook shouts pissing Y/N even more. At this point, Y/N doesn’t care about what she’s going to say next. She’s beyond pissed now. “Um, correction, Jeon Jeongguk. You’re my fake boyfriend. We’re only in this shit because you wanted to get back at Mi-Cha, okay? So don’t order me around because you don’t own me and all of this? It’s fake.” Y/N spits angrily.

Jungkook’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, and his heart drops. His glare morphs into a sad expression and it’s then that Y/N realizes she’s made a big, fucking mistake. He looks down, and chuckles sadly.

“Oh, shit, no, Jungkook, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m so sor--” Y/N stutters and Jungkook looks up, cutting her off. His eyes are glistening lightly and a sad smile has made its way onto his face.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re just fake dating, we’re just a fake couple,” Jungkook begins, looking away momentarily. “but,” he whispers, his eyes drifting back to Y/N’s, “none of what I feel for you is fake. I’ve realized that all this time, I loved you. I realized that I truly love you and all those things I said and did were real. And it fucking sucks that it took fake dating you to realize that you were all that I ever wanted and needed. It’s sad that I realized I only loved you when I fake dated you. Maybe fake dating you wasn’t such a good idea.”

As he said those words, his eyes never left Y/N’s letting her know he meant every word. Y/N’s heart drops and a huge lump forms in her throat. Jungkook looks down and closes his eyes, exhaling deeply. When he looks back up, the look on his face sends shivers running down Y/N’s spine. It was a look that Y/N knew all too well, and it was scaring her.

The fourth time Jeon Jeongguk asks something of Y/L/N Y/N:

“Maybe it’s better if we ended this and never spoke to each other again.”

“Maybe it’s better if we ended this and never spoke to each other again.”

The scene keeps on repeating itself over and over in her head so much that if Y/N was so good at animation, she would’ve been able to make a short movie out of it.

She remembers everything so perfectly; the way Jungkook said those words-- his tone made it seem so final, the way she bit her lip to prevent the tears from falling as she nods her head weakly, turning around to hide the first batch of tears that fell from her eyes as she walks away. She remembers how she didn’t at least fight for him, she remembers how she didn’t try to work things out, because gosh, he’s her best friend, and the thought of losing him was enough to make her world shatter and fall apart.

But above all, she remembers how she didn’t tell him that she loves him too. That she always has, way before he did.

Y/N can’t help but think how things would have gone if only she’d told him she loved him too. She can’t help but think that maybe she should’ve fought for him. Would things have been different if she didn’t let her anger rule over her love for him? Or would it still have been the same because Jungkook was hurt?

“Hey, how are you?” Y/N is snapped back to reality, and she feels a gentle hand on her elbow. She looks to the side and is met with the concerned eyes of Park Jimin. He’s smiling sympathetically at her and Y/N wants to just cry in Jimin’s arms and binge watch on movies all day with him, eating tubs and tubs of ice cream. But she can’t do that, now can she?

Instead of telling her friend the truth, she smiles softly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Jimin sighs as he links arms with Y/N, guiding her to their usual spot under the trees by the soccer field. “I’m your friend, Y/N. I want to try to be there for you whenever I can, I want you to share your pains and burdens with me,” Jimin tells her as they sit down. Y/N looks at Jimin who had a sad smile on his face.

Y/N can feel the lump growing in her throat and she swallows deeply to force it back down. “I can’t help but wish for things to have gone differently, Chim. I love him, so why couldn’t I tell him that? Did it even matter that he accused Taehyung of having feelings for me? The bottom line was that he felt the same way and I should’ve just told him the truth. I-I…I miss h-him, so much, and it sucks because it’s only been two days since it happened. I…I c-can’t live…without…him,” Y/N finishes, her voice barely above a whisper as tears stream down her face.

“Oh, Y/N,” Jimin whispers, pulling his friend in for a hug as he rubs her back comfortingly. “It’s okay, just, cry it all out, okay? Everything will work out in the end. You both just need some time, that’s all.” Y/N pulls away weakly to look at Jimin and the boy’s heart breaks at the sight of his friend in her broken state. “I hope so, Chim. I really hope so,” Y/N replies as she wipes her tears away.

A week after Y/N and Jungkook broke up, word spread fast around the school. It shocked everyone, because Y/N and Jungkook were a power couple. They were everybody’s OTP. They never seemed to have any problems at all, and everyone could see how they were so smitten for each other. It was even more shocking to them considering that only a week ago, Y/N and Jungkook had celebrated their third month together.

Of course, with news, there will always be rumors. Rumors about why they broke up and who broke it off started to make their way to everyone. Some of them said it was Y/N because of the argument that occurred between Mi-Cha and Jungkook. The others claimed they realized they were better off as friends. But the majority wanted to believe that Y/N cheated on Jungkook, just like Mi-Cha. And like always, the majority wins.

Everywhere Y/N went, people were whispering about her. They pitied Jungkook and chose to attack Y/N. In her opinion, they really should attack her because it was her fault, but Jimin kept on insisting that she did nothing wrong. Sweet Jimin, always trying to make me feel better, Y/N thought.

“Look at her, how could she still be here after all that she’s done to him?” “Jungkook was too sweet and nice to her, she doesn’t deserve it” “If I were in her shoes I would never hurt him” “Gosh, she’s just like Mi-Cha” “I feel so bad for Jungkook, he always dates the wrong girls for him” “If I dated him, he wouldn’t go through any of this at all” “She’s not even pretty, who does she think she is, cheating on Jeon Jeongguk, of all people?”

Y/N bites her lip as she grips onto her backpack straps tightly, trying her best not to let her emotions show. She looks up and sees Jungkook and they lock eyes. Y/N soon realizes what she did and tears her eyes away from Jungkook’s, looking down as she continues her walk to her class. Jungkook watches her go, and sighs, looking ahead of him as he continues to walk to the lockers.

On his way, he hears what everyone’s been saying about Y/N and his heart breaks. How could they say all those things about her? She doesn’t deserve any of what they were saying about her. Jungkook almost comes to her defense but then realizes that they’re not together anymore. He opens his locker to get his things for his next class when a bright pink post-it note falls from the top of one of his books and down to the floor. Confused, Jungkook bends down to pick it up. His eyes scan the words over and over and his heart clenches when his brain fully processes the words. It was a note he wrote on the day they broke up, the day he was supposed to tell her he loved her.

“I love you, for real.” It had read. Suddenly, Jungkook doesn’t feel like going to class anymore.

The hallways start to clear up, and Jungkook closes his locker shut, adjusting his backpack on his back. He then makes his way up to the rooftop to clear his mind. Pushing the doors open, Jungkook walks to the spot where he and Y/N last talked, and his feet seem to be slowing down once he hears soft cries. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he rounds the corner quietly and sees Y/N.

Her hair was blowing in the wind, her arms were resting on the wall, her head down. Soft sniffles were heard from her, and Jungkook wants so badly to run up to her and pull her into his arms. He wants to bury her in his chest, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, kiss her tears away.

He wants to, but he can’t. No, he wants to, but he doesn’t. His pride and stubbornness get the best of him and he stays rooted in his spot. He watches as Y/N wipes her tears away and runs a hand through her hair. She turns around and Jungkook hides himself from her sight. Y/N swallows deeply, and as she makes her way to the doors her phone rings. She pulls it out of her pocket to answer the call.

“Hey, Jimin…yeah, I’m up here…what? No, I didn’t cry…I promise, I just came here to get some air…don’t worry about me, we’re supposed to only worry about what movies we’ll watch later while we do our project, remember?…okay fine, pizza’s on me…I’ll see you in class, I’m going down now, bye.” Y/N hangs up and slides her phone back inside her pocket. Y/N sighs and wipes at her eyes more so it really doesn’t look like she’s been crying.

Y/N breathes shakily and pushes the door leading to the stairs gently, disappearing from Jungkook’s sight just as he leaves his hiding spot. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

How long is he going to let his pride overrule his love for her? How long are they going to keep on hurting?

It’s a Friday and Jeon Jeongguk is leaving the room of his last class of the day when he hears whispers down the hallway, all of which had one thing in common. Y/L/N Y/N. His ears perk up, sighing internally as he listens to what they have to say this time. He pulls his hoodie over his head in an attempt to avoid getting noticed. He squeezes in the sea of students, and bows down to listen in to everyone’s conversations.

“I saw Y/N with Kim Taehyung earlier today, they were talking about something really serious”

“Really? What do you think it could be about? Could they possibly be a thing now?”

“I suppose so. Y/N thinks she’s so pretty; dating all of the best guys at school then treating them like shit”

“She’s no different from Mi-Cha”

 “I saw her with Park Jimin today, what’s that about?”

“Even Jimin? Gosh, I can’t believe her”

And Jungkook can’t believe them either. How could they make such stupid assumptions? Who were they to judge Y/N? Just as Jungkook is about to cut into the conversation of the girls in front of him, the crowd of students stop as they all stare at the sight in front of them.

Y/N’s standing frozen in front of her locker, her eyes locked onto her locker door. Jungkook’s eyes flit from her form to the locker and he sees the words “You don’t deserve him, you’re such a bitch” painted in huge, red letters. The whispers start up again, and Jungkook makes his way to the front with difficulty. He reaches the front where Y/N absentmindedly leaves some of her things in her locker before closing the locker door gently. Jungkook stands in the front and everyone notices it, of course.

Y/N can feel someone’s, no, everyone’s eyes on her and she looks up. She sees him and the lump in her throat that she had previously pushed down rises up again and her hands start to shake again. She clenches her fist to hide it, but she knows Jungkook saw it. And he knows her. He knows her like the back of his hand.

So, to avoid from showing Jungkook all of her emotions and further hurt herself in the process, she breaks eye contact, turns around and walks to the exit of the building, her head down and her pace fast. Everyone starts to talk over the other and Jungkook watches after Y/N until he can no longer see  her.

“Oh my gosh, what was that?”

“I know, it was so tense”

“I wonder who wrote it, damn, someone finally voiced our thoughts”

“I wonder what’s going to happen”

“What do you think will Jungkook do?”

No longer being able to take it, Jungkook turns around swiftly, effectively catching the attention of almost everybody.

He clenches his fist, breathing heavily. “I’m going to ask of you, nicely, to stop it. None of you know the truth, so stop gossiping around like you know shit because you fucking don’t know anything at all.” Jungkook throws in a sarcastic smirk before he turns back around and walks in the direction Y/N left in, everyone parting like the Red Sea to make way for Jeon Jeongguk.

Jungkook exits the school and he looks around, hoping to see any signs of Y/N. He sees none, and sighs, biting his lip. He takes their normal route home, but he knows for a fact that Y/N isn’t going home just yet. So, he turns around chooses to take their long route, crossing his fingers that she took that same route too.

On the way home, Jungkook can’t help but let his mind wander to Y/N. They first met when they were only five; Y/N was too scared to climb up the slide and Jungkook helped her overcome that fear. He was her superhero and that was when they first became friends.

After that, they met up almost everyday and their moms became good friends as well. So much so that they went to the same school ever since. And ever since their first encounter, Jungkook has always been Y/N’s guardian, her superhero. He was there to hold her hand and hug her when she scraped her knee in first grade; he was there to fight off the mean kids in fifth grade who threatened to steal her homework. And he was there to defend her from the mean girls in middle school.

Thirteen-year old Y/L/N Y/N knew for a fact that she hated middle school the moment she and her best friend, Jeon Jeongguk first stepped inside the building. All of the girls in their grade and in the grade above them had a crush on her best friend, and she immediately knew it was a bad thing.

They always threw daggers her way when Jungkook had an arm around her shoulders, every time they saw Jungkook look at her instead of them. The girls all hated Y/N and they made sure she was well aware of that fact.

It was a normal day at school, or so Y/N thought. She had just gotten out of the cubicle and was greeted by 5 girls from her grade, and 3 from the year above her, looking at her like they wanted the earth to swallow her whole. Y/N didn’t know what to do, so she simply bowed her head and was about to leave the bathroom when the three older girls stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She gulped, and looked up to see them all looking down at her.

They were taller and Y/N immediately knew something was wrong.

“Y/N, why are you always with Jeon Jeongguk?” The girl in the middle asked her. “U-um, he, he’s my best…friend,” Y/N answered and they all raised their eyebrows.

“Why would he want to be friends with you? You’re not even pretty, we’re prettier than you,” The girl replied and Y/N bit on her lip and looked down.

“You don’t deserve him,” the girl behind Y/N had said and Y/N turned around to look at her.

“Um, I don’t really know, but, um, we…uh, we’ve been best friends since we were…five,” Y/N replied weakly and the girls scoffed.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re stupid, and ugly, and Jungkook should stop hanging out with you. Stay away from him.” On of the older girls said and Y/N gulped.

“I don’t think, uh, that I can do that, he’s my only…friend.” Y/N replied, wringing her hands nervously.

“Oh really? Then we’ll just make life hard for you until we get the message across.” Another girl said and with that, she pushed Y/N, who fell to the floor. They all laughed and walked out of the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind them.

Y/N sighed, and pushed herself off the floor. She went to wash her hands at the sink and looked at herself in the mirror.

“You’re stupid, and ugly, and Jungkook should stop hanging out with you. Stay away from him.” their words kept repeating in her head and she forces herself to stop thinking about it. “Oh really? Then we’ll just make life hard for you until we get the message across.” Y/N closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She hoped they were just lying, and they were only doing it to threaten her.

They weren’t lying.

For the next few days, they did make life miserable for Y/N. They bumped into her in the hallways, they whispered and pointed at her every chance they got, and they told the other girls about their plan, who all joined in. They left notes in her locker, all of which contained words she never thought would come from the young girls in her class. They did so many things and her week had never been more miserable.

Of course, Jungkook knew nothing about it. Y/N had kept the whole thing a secret from him, because she didn’t want him getting in trouble. She didn’t want him to feel responsible for her, because it was her fault anyway. She could just stay away from Jungkook and make life easier for everyone but she couldn’t, because she couldn’t bear to lose her best friend.

So she kept quiet. Until she could no longer hide the pain she felt for simply being best friends with Jeon Jeongguk.

The girls had been tormenting Y/N for weeks already and every day it got worse. They’d throw her lunch out in the bathroom, they placed insects in her locker, they sent her more notes, they made life incredibly miserable for her.

Y/N and Jungkook were walking home in complete silence and Jungkook was getting worried. He’d noticed a change in his best friend’s behavior a few days back and he was scared as to what had caused it. Had he done something wrong? Did something bad happen back at home?

“Y/N.” Jungkook stopped Y/N as he latched onto her wrist, stopping them both. Y/N looked up at him expectantly and Jungkook could see pain swimming her eyes. He sighed and a hand came up to tuck a few loose strands behind her ear.

“What’s wrong? Can you please tell me?” With those soothing words, Y/N broke down in tears, shocking Jungkook completely. He was quick to react and he immediately pulled Y/N in for a tight hug. He wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders as Y/N buried her face in his chest, crying.

When Y/N had calmed down lightly, Jungkook pulled back to look at his best friend. He wiped her tears away, a frown on his face.

“What happened?”

So Y/N told him. She told him everything, right from the very beginning when they only glared at her, to the bathroom encounter, and the day after, when they started to make life miserable for her.

“I just don’t get it, Kook. Why can’t I be friends with you? Why are girls so mean? What’s wrong? What did I do wrong to deserve all of this?” Jungkook’s heart broke at his best friend’s words and he pulled her in for another hug, rubbing his arms up and down her back.

“Shh, it doesn’t matter what they say, okay? Girls have always been mean, you’re the only one I know that isn’t. And don’t ever think that you deserve all this pain because you don’t. I’m truly sorry that you have to go through all of this alone. I wish you’d told me sooner. I’m sorry you’re going through all of this because of me.” Jungkook whispered and Y/N pulled back shaking her head.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine.” Y/N insisted but being the stubborn boy that he was, he shook his head.

“If it’s not my fault, then it definitely isn’t yours either. It’s theirs,” Jungkook stated and Y/N laughs. Jungkook smiled when he heard his best friend’s beautiful laugh.

“That doesn’t quite make sense, but okay.” Y/N nodded and Jungkook extended his pinky out for her. Y/N looked at him confused but he just nudges toward his pinky. Y/N followed and locked her pinky with his, looking at him expectantly.

“I, Jeon Jeongguk promise to always be there for Y/L/N Y/N, to protect her from everything that could harm her, to never leave her side no matter what happens, to always be the best best friend she deserves. Even if we fight, I will always be there by her side and I will always do what I can to fix our friendship because it’s the most important thing to me. I promise to always be Y/N’s superhero, her knight in shining armor.” Jungkook stated proudly, making the corner of Y/N’s lips turn up. They twisted their pinkies, making their thumbs meet as they smiled.

“I promise you this, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.”

And he’s always kept his promise.

Until now.

Realizing that he broke his promise, Jungkook looks up. He hears the sound of kids screaming and giggling in the distance and it clicks. He knows where Y/N is. He breaks off into a run, praying that he isn’t too late.

Jungkook reaches the park, the very park where he and Y/N first met. He runs to the playground, his eyes frantically searching around for Y/N. No, no, no, she has to be here, Jungkook thinks to himself when he sees no sign of Y/N near the slide or the swings. His eyes land on the bench their mothers used to sit on and his heart leaps out of his chest when he sees her. He runs so fast he might just break his legs.

Y/N’s figure is hunched over and her shoulders are shaking slightly, a sure sign for Jungkook that she’s crying. He almost slides in front of her from how fast he was running. He kneels in front of her and pulls her in for a hug.

Jungkook hears Y/N gasp as he wraps his arms around her crying figure and he relaxes when Y/N’s arms snake around his waist.

“Shh, shh, I’m here Y/N, it’s okay. I’m here now, I’m here, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook whispers, tears silently streaming down his face too.

Y/N chokes on her sobs as she holds onto Jungkook tightly. Jungkook adjusts himself and stands up, pulling Y/N with him. Jungkook pushes Y/N’s head gently onto his chest and he rests his chin on top of her head, the both of them crying.

His left arm wraps around her shoulders as his right hand strokes her hair softly. Y/N’s arms stay on his waist and they’re both shaking. They were both broken, that much was obvious. They both hurt each other, but they will always find their way back to each other.

Once they’ve both calmed down, Jungkook steps back slightly, so he can look at Y/N. His hands come up to cup her cheeks and wipe the tears away. Y/N’s hands wrap around his wrists as she looks up at him, her eyes shining with tears and her bottom lip quivering. She notices Jungkook’s tears too, the boy wiping her tears instead of his own. She bites her lip softly and reaches up to wipe his tears away too. Jungkook’s hands fall at his sides after wiping her tears away while Y/N’s stay on his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing on his cheekbones gently.

They look at each other, not breaking eye contact. Jungkook breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry, Jungkook. I should never have gone with Taehyung when I knew you would be waiting for me.”

Jungkook disagrees. “I’m sorry for being so jealous, I got so insecure because I really wanted to call you mine for real. I hurt you because I was scared. I broke my promise just because I got hurt that you didn’t feel the same. But it’s okay, Y/N. Even if you don’t feel the same way, I’m still staying by your side because I made my promise to you. And I am never breaking my promises ever again.”

Y/N smiles softly but she shakes her head. “It’s okay, Kook. But I’m also sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner that I love you too.”

Jungkook nods. “Thank you, I promise it won’t happen--wait, what did you say?”

Y/N giggles and Jungkook’s eyes only widen. “Y/N, what did you say again?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. She cups his face in her hands, her cheeks burning up at what she’s about to do, but she calms down a bit because she can also feel the warmth of Jungkook’s cheeks under the palms of her hands.

Y/N stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his forehead. “I,” a kiss on the left cheek, “love”, a kiss on the right cheek, “you,” a kiss on the nose, “so much”, and finally, on the lips, “Jeon Jeongguk.” Y/N was planning for a peck, but just as she’s about to pull away, Jungkook’s arm wraps around her waist to pull her closer, and his other hand runs through her locks. She smiles into the kiss and Jungkook does too. She places her hands on his shoulder as they continue to kiss.

Kiss. Oh, how long it’s been since Jungkook last kissed Y/N. It’s been so long since he last held her like that, but things are quite different now. Now, they both know what the other truly feels, and it’s such a wonderful feeling.

They both pull away from the kiss, and they’re both grinning.

“I missed you, Kook.” Y/N says, pecking his lips.

Jungkook gives her his bunny smile and she giggles. His arms tighten around her waist and Y/N smiles, resting her head on his chest. She bites her lip when she hears the beat of Jungkook’s heart. It was beating so fast, but it’s not as if hers wasn’t beating so fast either.

A few hours later, they’re both walking home hand in hand, a cone of ice cream in their free hands. Jungkook looks down at their intertwined hands, grinning happily. He swings their hands, catching Y/N’s attention who smiles at him.

“What?” She asks him, and they stop walking. Jungkook turns to face her, a weird smile on his face as he gazes at Y/N lovingly. He lets go of her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N blushes and looks down.

He tucks a finger under her chin and Y/N looks up.

“Guk, what’s up?” Y/N whispers. Jungkook only smiles.

The fifth time Jeon Jeongguk asks something of Y/L/N Y/N:

“Be my girlfriend, for real this time.”

⇒ let me know what you think or hmu with anything under the sun here!

[kaitkerrigan]

SAY THE WORD - Writing New Lyrics to Old Songs and Writing Music First

You would think this would be a romantic episode of “Behind the Lyrics” but no, this is a funny one, a technical one. But before we get to that, let’s tarry for a little while on the melody of “Say the Word”, which is really the star. 

Some songs start with a chorus or a stanza or a lyric. Some start with a hook - a title - a phrase that defines the whole song. A hook isn’t just the lyric. It can be, but generally it’s more than that. It’s a small packet of emotional information: words and music that are the keystone to the rest of the song. 

We had that: “Say the word.” And then Brian sent me music - verse music and chorus music. I think the bridge came later. Listen: 

http://kaitandbrian.bandcamp.com/track/say-the-word-instrumental

Wait, no, don’t skip this part. Listen:    

http://kaitandbrian.bandcamp.com/track/say-the-word-instrumental

It’s important that you listen to it without lyrics, that you don’t know what the lyrics might become for a moment, because that’s what I experienced when I first listened to this melody, the melodic shift to “say the word” from the verse. I remember crying the first time I heard it. 

I’m no sap. That doesn’t happen often - especially not before we have worked out the whole song - but it happened here. And I must say, I was intimidated by it. This was one of the first songs I was writing lyrics for in The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown. I was still a freshman lyricist. I hardly knew what I was doing. I couldn’t really write lyric first. I needed the structure of the music to contain me. I still prefer writing music first.   

But this music intimidated me. It was good and more than that, it was spare. I struggled. I tried to find something that worked but I couldn’t work out the grammar. Did you know that a lot of lyric writing is about grammar? It’s about knowing what kind of sentence you can write. It’s about whether you’re writing a question, or using a string of participles. I was a born grammarian. It’s been an asset. 

Finally, Brian and I decided we’d write a dummy lyric to it together. This is something we’ve often done, but rarely so exactly. I often follow the grammar we find in a dummy lyric. Sometimes Brian will write a lyric along with his music and I’ll replace every word but the grammatical contours will remain. Why? Because sung music implies grammar, especially sentence breaks. Following that phrasing in your lyric often makes you make more interesting and beautiful choices.   

I’m stalling. Can you tell? I don’t want you to read our dummy lyric (because of course I remember it. It was good enough that I remember it). Can I just say that the grammar of my real lyric follows the contours of our dummy lyric exactly? I’ll give you one more hint. The dummy lyric is supremely on the nose. Sam wants to have sex with her boyfriend. She’s been having difficulty blurting that out. In our dummy lyric, she really blurted that out. Nothing coy about it.   

I can’t tell you the dummy lyric because if I write it here you will ever unsee it and you will never have the pure sweet love for this song that you have now. I’m sparing you. Have I said too much? I’ve said too much. 

None of this was the question I was asked by @AmeliaBell28 on Twitter. She asked why we changed the lyric from “loving you should be easier” to “let me go if it’s easier” and I’m so glad she did.   

“Loving you should be easier” always sat with me wrong. 

Years ago, a very famous actor who was singing the song pointed out that it should be “loving me should be easier” and that stuck with me. That didn’t feel quite right but it felt more right than what I had written (as this sophomoric beginner’s-lucky lyricist). But it’s spare AF and the melody requires something concrete and broad at the top of the sentence. Most sentences start with “I” or “you” or “last night” or something like that. But I needed something like “loving you” or “Saturday” or “better days”. And I needed whatever I did to lead into “but say the word, and I might have to stay.”   

You’re me. Here’s what you’ve got.   

Say the word and I just might listen.  Say the word and you might get your way.  _ _ _,* _ _ _ _ _ but say the word,  And I might have to stay. 

(*comma added to indicate phrasing) 

This is literally what I stared at for weeks in the lead up to our workshop in the spring of 2016, cursing myself from a decade earlier for having squeezed myself into this box. I’m going to try to find another lyric for it right now as I write this and I’ll share the ways I narrowed down my options.   

I was scared but now - Doesn’t work because you can’t say “but” or anything that negates the 2nd half of the clause because it’s part of a larger clause. That rules out the 4th word being but, since, or; you’ll end up in a run on. 

All my life, I’ve been holding back but say the word, - Success! 

The grammar is good! “All my life” feels iconic enough for the music; it feels repeatable. Don’t forget how many times we’ll hear this exact lyric. But has she been holding back? Does that make any sense? Not really. Still, this is good grammar. It’s possible to understand what she’s talking about enough to know she’s not making sense, which is a positive development.   

So then I think to myself: I need some kind of island phrase that’s three syllables and that leads easily and truthfully to “but say the word”. Everything she’s been saying is a command - a sort of coy command, but command all the same. (You) say the word. I’m not going to say it.   

In lyrics, we talk a lot about parallel structure: 

Let me be your ride out of town.  Let me be the place that you hide. We can make our lives on the go.  Run away with me.   

There are two kinds of parallel structure in that lyric. The first (bolded) is the more obvious kind. It’s when you have two lines (or more) in a row that start with the same words. It can be incredibly effective. It follows the contours of what the music is doing (repetition of motif) and insists upon something. The second (italicized) is a bit more subtle but it does train your ear. Three out of four of those lines are not statement of fact but commands - something the character wants.

The same is true for “Say the Word” but she’s less insistent. She’s more seductive. I looked at the whole chorus: 

Say the word, and I just might listen. Say the word, and you might get your way. _ _ _,* _ _ _ _ _, but say the word, And I might have to stay. 

And the grammar is actually pretty complex. Compare it to

Let me be your ride out of town. [NEW THOUGHT] Let me be the place that you hide. [NEW THOUGHT] We can make our lives on the go. [NEW THOUGHT]  Run away with me. 

There’s an if/then proposal being made by Sam. Essentially, “if you say that you want me to be here with you, I might listen and give you what you want. [BLANK] but if you say what you want, I might stay here.” 

So that missing line takes on enormous import. It’s the thing that’s holding them back. My box got narrower and narrower. I liked the word “easier”, which fit so effortlessly on the music (it was part of our infamous dummy lyric even) and I became convinced that the complexity of the grammar meant that it would be easier to follow with a command at the top of that line. That left me with:  

Say the word, and I just might listen. Say the word, and you might get your way. COMMAND,* if it’s easier, but say the word, And I might have to stay. 

“Let me go” wasn’t the first idea that I had but it was the truest idea. There’s something poetic and simple about talking about either staying or going. It’s not about love. It’s about action. Do you want me to stay? Or do you want to let me go?   

I wish I could say that when I hit that lyric, I felt a sense of relief but I actually sweated out the workshop and the production. Brian didn’t say, “I like the new lyric” until we’d already started performances of The Mad Ones off-Broadway. Once we opened, a few other people came up to me and mentioned the new lyric. That’s actually nuts. It’s one line of an unproduced show. I knew I was right to be nervous. If I got it wrong, people would actually notice.   

I also knew from experience, that hearing a new lyric when you know an old one is jarring. I vividly remember hearing Ragtime in the theater after hearing only the concept album and being incensed by some of the changes. There was a different lyric written into the liner notes of Miss Saigon from the one on the recording for the now very dead “It’s Her or Me” / “Now That I’ve Seen Her” - two songs with the exact same melody and entirely non-overlapping lyrics. The same was true for portions of Beauty and the Beast. There’s several in Ragtime. These drove me absolutely crazy. My loyalty to the lyric I heard first knew no bounds. I never thought the second lyric was better. Now as a lyricist myself, I know that in general, they sing less well and make more sense. And often they’re the product of producer notes. 

Of course, I was in danger of the same error, the same failure to fans of the show, so I was shy about debuting this lyric change - small though it was - but I felt very strongly that I had to do it now before we might have a chance to record it or license it for posterity. So I tried to make sure that I wrote something truthful (yes) but also (I hope) just as fun to sing as “loving you”, which was always so weird. Why was loving him hard? Why should love be easier? What does that even mean???   

Does it make it better if I apologize to any of the purists among you? I see you. I hear you. I. Am. You. If Tony Kushner touches a hair on the head of Caroline, or Change, I will cut him. But “loving you should be easier” drove me nuts. I couldn’t let that baffling lyric live. I hope you will pardon me.   

For anyone who came to this post hoping that I had something profound to say about the in-show context, I’m sorry (more apologies). The context is simple. Sam wants to have sex with her boyfriend. She has a hard time talking about it. Finally, she drops trou’ and throws herself at him. He thinks that’s pretty weird. She concedes and finally opens up and sings this.*

*with one minor lyric change... :) 

[mysticalmistake]

When you left me - Jumin Han

Hey guys! So I’m writing a little mini series that’s explained more in depth here, but the basic premise of these is that during V’s good ending, he leaves for two years but in that time MC might still be lonely and turns to one of the RFA members for comfort. I’m making one for each member, but here’s for Jumin ♡ Small note, lines that are fully italicized mean it’s Jumin’s thoughts.

Jumin coudn’t be more disappointed in Jihyun. Just because he understood why he left, he didn’t think it was responsible. Rika needed help, the RFA members wanted answers, you wanted him to be there for you like you were for him, and he decided he needed to leave. He was always concerned for you, to the point where Jaehee was a bit quizzical about how and why he was so upset about it. He was persistent that you were an RFA member who went through a lot, and therefore he should be concerned about you. That was enough of an explanation for Jaehee, but Jumin couldn’t stop thinking about it. His mind danced around the reason, subconsciously knowing it but refusing to think it directly. It’s because she’s an RFA member. That’s why you’re concerned. He thought that time and time again, but something was tugging at him that it was more. He hadn’t felt this before, and didn’t know how to respond.  Before he went completely crazy with his thoughts, his phone lit up with an accompanying sound. He read the message on his screen, sighing in relief. You had messaged him, asking to come over. His worry skyrocketed, and he immediately send a car to pick you up. The message was from the driver, saying he got her over safely and was in the hands of his guards now, and should be at his door at any moment. As his eyes scanned over the final word, he heard a firm knock at his door. He set his phone down and walked over, feeling relieved as he saw you on the other side. He guested for you to come in, and then for the security to stay out. The door closed behind you, and you two were now alone. “I’m glad to see you got here safely. “Come,” he said, leading you into the living room. “Can I get you a drink, or anything to eat?”  “Just some water would be great...” The glass was already filling in his hand before you could even finish your sentence. “Thank you, Jumin,” you said softly as he handed you the glass. “It’s nothing. You know I can get you anything you need”. You laughed, but he could tell there was no humor behind it. In fact, it made you think about how V left you. “I know... I know. That’s why I called you. You’re here. You didn’t just leave!” Your grip on your glass tightened as you tried to stop tears from flowing down your face. “I mean, I understand it when someone wants space. But I’m hurting too! Someone I thought I cared about tricked and manipulated me, and I just had to be there for someone else. And I’m not angry that I had to be supportive of him, I know how much he went through, but why couldn’t he be here for me?” You were sobbing now, unable to stop talking. “Why did he have to leave? I didn’t expect him to do anything grand. All I wanted was for him to be here for me. Why can’t anyone be here for me?”  Before he could stop himself, Jumin leaned in and embraced you in his arms. You quickly clung to him, your glass of water dropping to the floor and spilling in the carpet. But neither of you noticed as you buried your head into his shoulder, your tears staining his shirt. Jumin didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew he hated seeing you hurting, and in that moment hated Jihyun for doing this to you. He wasn’t sure of what he could say to help you, so he just held you while you cried. On top of his anger, he felt confused. He didn’t know anymore how he felt about you, and he was feeling things he hadn’t ever experienced before.  He snapped out of his thoughts as soon as you pulled away, and you looked at the tears on his shirt and the water you spilled on the floor. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I’ve made such a mess,” you mumbled as you wiped your face dry. “I-I should go”. You went to push yourself up, and Jumin placed a hand on your arm. “Don’t go”. You looked at him, confused. “What?” “Don’t go. I want you to stay here”. Jumin didn’t know what he was saying, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I know you felt like no one was there for you. But I’m here for you. Right now, and always. I want to prove to you that I care about you”. Stop it. Jumin felt his heart beating faster and faster, even more so when he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up to his eyes. She’s in love with Jihyun, as he is with her. You were the one who leaned in and pressed your lips against his, and despite wanting it Jumin was to astonished to do anything. After noticing how stiff he was, you pulled away, feeling dread in your heart. “Oh my god, I-I’m so sorry,” you stuttered out, quickly standing up and composing yourself before going for the door. “I shouldn’t have- I thought you- I’m so sorry-”  Let her leave. Don’t do this to them or yourself. Jumin took half a second before standing up and walking after you. You had your hand on the door, and the handle was barely turned before he was behind you. He raised his hand up to press it firmly against the door, keeping you from opening it. You were so focused on leaving you didn’t even realize he was behind you, and spun around with eyes wide from shock. “Jumin?” This isn’t right. Jumin used his other hand to gently lift your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I meant what I said. I always do,” Jumin whispered before he leaned down and kissed you. Stop it. You embraced him, almost too eagerly. He liked it, almost too much. You know better than this. His hand left the door, finding purchase on your waist against where your shirt had lifted slightly from facing up. The feeling of your bare skin against his hand sent what felt like electricity through his body. This isn’t you. Your hands were starting to unbutton his shirt, and in response his hands were pulling you closer. As he felt his hands against his now bare skin, the voice inside his head telling him to stop disappeared. He couldn’t think about if this was right or wrong, what this would to to you and Jihyun, or even to him and Jihyun. All he had on his mind was you, and you were right in front of him. He wasn’t going to waste a single of second of time with you.

[aswithasunbeam]

Finding Forgiveness, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Eliza Hamilton can't keep punishing her husband forever. If she didn't intend to leave him, she would need to find a way to forgive him. But how? The Reynolds Pamphlet aftermath

Eliza and Hamilton finally have that big fight they’ve been avoiding...

June 1798

“Honey?” Eliza tapped on the office door lightly and peered through the open sliver into the room. Hamilton appeared to be absent, so she pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside. She needed more paper to finish her correspondence on behalf of the Widow’s society, and he always kept some in his desk drawer.

The worn drawer slid open with a familiar squeak as she pulled out a small stack of blank sheets. She shook her head as she looked at her husband’s messy desk, littered with papers, old quills and an empty ink pot. One letter buried in the mayhem looked like it had been folded and addressed, so she reached out to pluck it from the stack, intending to give it to the maid for the post. She didn’t dare touch the other papers, but she did place the worn quills into their holder and made a mental note to have water sent in so Hamilton could mix more ink.

The topmost letter on his desk caught her eye just as she was turning to leave, the word ‘Military,’ capitalized in the first sentence of the second paragraph, arresting her attention. She scanned the letter, eyes dropping to an italicized portion further down, dread growing in her stomach. “You intimate a desire to be informed what would be my part in such an event as to entering into military service. I have no scruple about opening myself to you on this point. If I am invited to a station in which the service I may render may be proportioned to the sacrifice I am to make—I shall be willing to go into the army.”1

She felt ill as the realization came over her: he’d lied to her. Again. Those pretty words he’d said in the foyer barely a month ago about how important she and the children were to him had meant nothing. He was going back to public service.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” She jumped at the sound of her husband’s voice, looking over at him with wide, startled eyes. He laughed gently. “I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

She nodded, heart racing and mind churning.

He leaned easily against the doorjamb. “I know you need to help look after your father, but it’s going to be hard with you gone. Alex and Jamie were just about to reenact the tragedy of Cain and Abel over a dish of strawberries. Where ever did they get such a sweet tooth?” He asked the question with a knowing smirk.

The comment was an open invitation to tease him about his own sweet tooth. Not five minutes ago, she would have done so in good humor; now she can barely look at him. He seemed to sense the change.

“Betsey? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she nodded vaguely. She couldn’t confront him right now. Her throat felt tight and her eyes were watering. If she tried to speak, she’d burst into tears.

“You’re sure?” Hamilton looked unconvinced, and not a little concerned.

She hesitated, cleared her throat to avoid any quavering, and amended, “Actually, I’m suddenly feeling a little under the weather. Perhaps I’ll go lie down a bit before the party.”

His expression softened with sympathy. “Of course, sweetheart. Go take a rest.”

She nodded again, pushing by him to get out of the room. Mounting the stairs with haste, she shut herself into her bedroom and leaned back against the door. Perhaps she was overreacting, she considered. He had told her that he would reconsider his position on public office if war between France and America should come. Wasn’t that all the letter had said?

The sting of betrayal remained deep in her breast. He hadn’t talked to her about joining the army again. He hadn’t even mentioned he was considering it. His actions felt deceitful and underhanded.

The peace she had found over the past weeks, ever since he’d spoken those blessed words about choosing their family over his public life, washed away under a new wave of hurt and pain. It was silly, perhaps, to place so much meaning on that one conversation, but she had. For the first time in so many months, she’d felt as if she recognized her husband again.

She placed her blank pages on her dressing table and sighed. Rooting around in one of the drawers for a quill and some ink, she decided to continue her correspondence. Those poor women and their babe’s shouldn’t suffer because of her emotional turmoil, she told herself firmly. She found the items shoved towards the back; she needed them in here only on the rare occasion she wanted to jot down a list before bed.

Writing calmed her.

She was glad she hadn’t tried to bring up the letter downstairs; she needed time gather her thoughts and place them in perspective. They would need to talk, calmly and rationally, about what a return to public life would mean for them. Tonight, after the party, she would sit him down and they would discuss it.

~*~

Eliza laughed politely as Nicholas Fish, one her husband’s oldest and dearest friends, regaled her with an amusing tale. In the interest of fostering conversation, she’d been seat across and several seats down from her husband. She took a bite of the chicken from her plate and glanced down the table at Hamilton.

His shoulders looked tense and his eyes seemed deliberately trained on his meal. She didn’t recognize the man seated beside him. The man, whoever he was, gestured wildly as he spoke, his fork swirling through the air, dangerously close to the people seated on either side of him. His dazed expression and slightly manic smile signaled to Eliza that he’d partaken of too much drink.

John Church was seated on the other side of her husband, and he caught her eye as she was taking in the situation. He, too, looked tense and uncomfortable. She gave him a quizzical look. He darted his eye towards the unknown man and shook his head once.

“Poor Ham looks like he’s having a tough time of it,” Fish noted beside her.

“Who is that man sitting next to him?” she asked.

Fish frowned. “I’m not sure. Some distant relation of Jay’s, I believe, though I’ve never met him before. He certainly doesn’t seem to be making much of an impression.”

The man beside her husband raised his voice suddenly, his words noticeably slurred. “The bastards! We ought to take ‘em all out one by one!”

Hamilton replied softly, so she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“I don’t care who hears me,” the man shouted back at him. “Why? You one of ‘em?”

The person seated on the other side of the man said something else to him. His eyes widened and his volume lowered once more. Her husband’s face was flushed as he renewed his study of his dinner plate.

The meal past without further incident, and the party retired to the front room for music and dancing. Eliza paced over to the open window for a breath of air in the already warm room. The violins tuned up in the corner as couples took their places.

“Well, that was interesting.”

She looked around at Hamilton, who was now standing behind her. “What happened?”

“The only thing worse than having a political discussion over a meal is having a political discussion with someone who has clearly had more than their fair share of wine.”

She gave him a half smile.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Perhaps later, to a slower song,” she declined, hardly in the mood for the spritly dance that was to open the night.

“Are you still feeling unwell?” His brow wrinkled in concern and he reached a hand towards her cheek.

She leaned back away from him. “I’m fine.”

“My dear brother,” Angelica called, approaching with Church fast on her heels. “Will you dance with me? My husband refuses to indulge me.”

Hamilton smiled as he turned to face her sister. His eyes lingered for a moment on Angelica’s fashionable, low-cut dress. “With pleasure, my dear sister.”

A flash of unreasonable jealousy shot through her as she glanced down at the navy blue dress he’d so complimented when she’d worn it to the theater back in March. Hamilton and Angelica had similarly gregarious and flirtatious personalities. They’d been playful with each other ever since they first met, and it had never once bothered her. She trusted them both too much to be concerned. But watching her husband escort her sister to the dance floor, his hand at her waist, she felt a poisonous worm of jealousy wriggling in the back of her mind.

She smiled tightly at Church, still standing silently beside her. Turning her face back to the window, she opened her fan and waved at her face perfunctorily. She’d never much cared for these bright, loud parties.

“Would you care to dance, Mrs. Hamilton?” Nicholas Fish asked several minutes later before the next song began. He held out a hand to her hopefully. She glanced out at the dance floor, where her husband was still speaking quietly to Angelica, smiling widely at whatever clever retort her sister had made.

“You wouldn’t prefer an eligible young woman, Mr. Fish?” Still a bachelor at forty, she wondered if the sweet man would ever settle down. There was little hope of it if he kept dancing with married women at parties.

“I’d be quite content to dance with the loveliest lady in the room, ma’am,” he replied.

“If you’re going to flatter me, sir, at least make it believable,” she scolded, though she softened the comment with a smile.

“Hardly mere flattery, I assure you. Your kind heart and generous spirit radiate from you like a beacon. I’m quite sure your husband would agree.” The last sentence was spoken with a kind of finality, as if her husband’s agreement were all the proof any assertion required to make it true. Knowing Fish, he probably believed that.

She shook her head at the overt attempt to charm her, but she took his hand. When she took her place in line, Hamilton met her eye and smiled, his whole face lighting up at the sight of her. She smiled back at him, some of her bitterness towards him easing at his expression of pure delight. She turned her attention to Fish as the music began.

She found herself enjoying the evening after that. She danced merrily with Fish, then once with Church, and finally once with her husband. Hamilton twirled her around too many times at a key moment in the dance, throwing off the steps, and when she’d bumped into him as a result he had pressed a playful kiss to her nose before twirling her back to the proper place. She swatted at him even as she grinned adoringly.

“You did that on purpose,” she charged.

He grinned. “Of course I did. I can’t resist you, especially not in that dress.”

Everything was going wonderfully, until the end of the night.

The unknown relation of Jay’s lurched drunkenly towards their group when they’d sat to rest and have a companionable drink. The companion who’d sat beside him at dinner was tugging at his sleeve and whispering quietly, but the man shrugged him off. “We’ve got to actually do something,” he stated, apropos of nothing, as he came to a stop in front of her husband.

“Sir, I think it’s time you retired,” Hamilton replied calmly.

“No, no, we’ve got to do something. Those tri-colored bastards just…just get away with everything! Robbery, murder. Look at…look at poor Jemmy Jones!”

Fish looked incredibly uncomfortable at the reference. James Jones had been insulted by Brockholst Livingston in the republican Argus along with Fish, but where Fish had chosen to pointedly ignore the insult, Jones had flown into a passion, attacked Livingston with a cane, tweaked his nose, and ended up dying in a duel as a result.2 The duel had been a mere two weeks previous, making the reference in even poorer taste.

“Sir,” Hamilton tried to interrupt once more. His jaw muscle was bunched in a way that told her he was trying to reign in his temper. The man refused to be silenced.

“We can’t just let them get away with it! And you,” he pointed at Hamilton, “You should be leading us! If I were you, I’d be at the capital. Not off…off philandering about with pretty whores—”

“That’s quite enough,” Church roared, jumping from his seat and taking the man by the arm. Hamilton was on his feet as well.

Humiliation burned through her; she pressed a hand to her forehead as if to cover her face. Fear mixed in strongly as well. Was Hamilton about to get into a duel? Would he, too, be a victim of the dangerous political polarization gripping the nation?

Angelica wrapped an arm around her as the men stalked off. “My poor, dear love,” her sister whispered. “It’ll be all right.”

She half wanted to snap at her sister to take her hand off her shoulders. A deeper, younger part of her wanted to crawl into her big sister’s arms and weep. Drawing in a steadying breath, she looked over at Angelica and announced, “I’m leaving.”

“I’ll get Hamilton,” Angelica offered, already moving to stand.

“No,” she stopped her. “No. I’m leaving.”

She stood, walked purposefully towards the door, and ordered their coach be brought around. When it arrived, she told the driver to take her home, and curled up in the corner as the carriage clattered away on the rough road. Let him play politics to his heart’s content, she thought darkly, to his death if that’s what he wished.

She didn’t need him.

~*~

The front door of their townhouse slammed shut nearly an hour later. Eliza started in her seat, looking away from the dying fire to the doorway where her husband now stood, face red and livid with anger. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so furious, at least not with her.  

“What were you thinking?” he demanded, voice icy. “You just left me there. And you took the carriage. I had to ask Church to bring me home. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

A slightly hysterical laugh burst out of her. She turned her gaze back to the fire.

He took a step into the room. “Why are you laughing?”

She ignored him.

His fist pounded into the wall and she jumped again. “For God’s sake, Eliza, we’re going in circles! We can’t keep doing this!” She could count on one hand the number of times he’d raised his voice at her like that. Watching him warily, she saw him rest his head on his fist, leaning heavily against the wall and breathing hard. He added, in almost a whisper, “I can’t keep doing this.”

“You’re joining the army.” She stated the fact flatly. To anyone else, it would have seemed a non-sequitur, but she knew he understood by how fast his head whipped around to face her again.

“You read my letter.”

“You said you weren’t going back.”

“I said wasn’t going back as long as it could be avoided. This is bad, Eliza. People are dying. I can’t avoid it any longer. After everything I’ve sacrificed—”

“You’ve sacrificed?” she repeated with disbelief. “You?”

“Yes,” he snapped.

A red haze seemed to descend over her vision.

“You’ve ruined my life!” she shouted at him. “You took everything I’ve ever known to be true, set it aflame, and published the ashes for the world to see.”

He stared at her, nonplussed by the outburst.

“And now you want to start all over again! Saddle yourself with overwhelming responsibility until you crawl back into the first open pair of arms you come across.”

“That’s not true. That’s not going to happen!”

“How do I know that? How will I know if it does? Would you have ever told me about the first girl if your public reputation weren’t on the line?”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

She ground her teeth together so hard she feared they would break. “I hate that you slept with her. The very thought of it makes me crazy. But the worst part was the deceit. You lied to me. You lied to me for years. And now you’ve lied to me again.”

“I didn’t lie to you about this,” he insisted. “And that’s not going to happen again. That wasn’t me, Eliza.”

“You keep saying that. Of course it was you! Stop lying!”

And they were off.

The fight that followed was unlike anything Eliza had ever experienced. She hardly remembered all the horrible things they started screaming. Pent up resentment, anger, humiliation, and confusion was suddenly spewing forth from both of them, raging through parlor like a great storm, destroying everything in its path. No one knew them better than the other; no one knew how to hurt them more. They tore into each other like wounded animals, shouting over each other, the vitriol worsening with every word. Every soft spot was prodded, every insecurity laid bare.

They lost the thread of the argument at some point, striking out with anything that could wound. She remembered echoing some the attacks she’d read in the press about his political corruption. Somehow, she linked that with an accusation that he was lusting after Angelica.

“I’m not sleeping with your sister,” he nearly spat back. “Though it is nice on occasion to speak to a woman who actually understands something of my work.”

It ought not to have hurt so much: she’d never claimed any sort of interest in politics, and she’d met several well-educated, even brilliant, men who’d found themselves awed by her husband’s genius. That she didn’t grasp every nuance of his work was hardly a reflection of her intelligence. Still, the thrust sank deep, feeding a deep insecurity that she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t smart enough, to be married to a man like him. The pain must have shown on her face, because the anger in his expression rapidly transformed into regret.

That was when she struck the killing blow, treading onto forbidden ground. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you were unfaithful, given who raised you.”

The color drained from his face. “Don’t.”

“Like mother, like son.”

He crumpled in on himself, turning away from her.

It was a hollow victory.

She fled from the room, up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door. It was then she suddenly remembered the house full of children she could only pray had slept through the horrifying display. Her dress tore at the back as she ripped it off, desperate to change out of the formal gown. She didn’t care; she couldn’t imagine she’d ever wear it again when it was linked indelibly in her mind to such a nightmarish evening. Tugging a nightgown on, she crawled into bed and curled up, sobs wracking her chest. She pressed her face into her pillow, trying to quiet them.

Some time passed, her sobs fading to hitching breaths and damp eyes, when she heard a soft tap at the door. She froze in place, waiting. Another soft tap followed. “Eliza?”

She stayed quiet.

“Eliza, please answer me.”

Tears started leaking from her eyes again at the pain in his voice.

“Those can’t be the last things we say to each other before you leave. Please,” he begged.

When heavy silence met him again, she heard a soft thud, as if he’d knocked his head against the door, and a light scratching, as though he had dragged his fingers down along the wood. At last, she heard footsteps retreating down the stairs. She heaved out a long breath.

The imagined image haunted her: his head resting on the door, his fingers splayed across the wood as he begged to be let in. Then the image of him hours earlier popped into her mind: smiling with delight as he spun her on the dance floor, pressing little kisses to her nose. It would be so much easier to hate him if she didn’t love him so much.

Eventually, perhaps hours later, the heartache and guilt overwhelmed the anger and pain, and she pulled herself from the bed. She went to the dressing room, where she collected a nightshirt and the spare quilt. Then she padded downstairs with the items, looking into the empty parlor first and then approaching the office. The door was slightly ajar, so she pushed it open gently.

Hamilton was asleep in his armchair, fully clothed, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet propped up on the foot rest. She knelt beside him. “Alexander?”

He snuffled lightly, his head rolling toward her, but he didn’t wake.

Sighing, she spread the blanket out over him and left the nightshirt by his side, in case he woke in the night and wished to change. The door closed behind her with a gentle tap.

~*~

She blinked slowly in the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains of her bedroom. The normal Sunday bustle sounded outside the door: the children readying for church, the maids hard at their chores. One of the servants had checked on her earlier, and she’d feigned sleep. She’d been alone and undisturbed ever since.

Some of the activity finally quieted outside. She’d nearly drifted off when her door opened once more. She kept her eyes closed, even as she felt a familiar weight settle onto the bed beside her.

“Eliza?” Hamilton asked.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to look up at him. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he looked tired, almost achingly soul weary. She wondered if the same sight would greet her in the mirror.

“Angelica took the boys with her to church,” he informed her. He reached out slowly, wary, but she stayed still until he finally placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “Are you ill? Should I send for the doctor?”

“No,” she said simply.

“Can I bring you anything?”

She rolled over to face away from him. “Just leave me alone.”

He complied, rising from the bed and closing the door behind him.

She did eventually get up. She finished packing and made sure Angelica and William both had everything they would need for their trip to Albany. William was still a bit too small to be away from her, and Angelica…well, the girl had nearly begged her to come along. She wondered how much of that was a desire to be with her mother and see her grandparents, or simply a desire not to be left alone with her father, with whom she was barely speaking.

Hamilton rode out with them to the sloop that afternoon. He gave their giggling baby a series of wet, sloppy kisses all over his face. Angelica surprisingly agreed to hug him goodbye, accepting a kiss to the crown of her head as she squeezed her father around the waist. “I love you, sweetheart. I’ll miss you,” he whispered to their little girl.

“I’ll miss you, too, Papa,” Angelica replied. It was, perhaps, the most words she’d strung together in a sentence directed towards him in months. He’d smiled slightly in response.

Finally, he looked at her. Their eyes met for a long, pregnant moment. He didn’t try to speak to her, or kiss her goodbye. She made no movement towards him, either. His shoulders fell, a deep despair plain on his face, as he walked back towards the coach alone.

~*~

A week later, she settled into a seat outside her parents’ estate, looking out at the water as she slowly sipped at her tea. Angelica had taken little William down to the riverbank, and she could see her daughter playfully splashing in the water, flicking little drops at the baby as he laughed gleefully. She smiled at the simple scene.

Her father seemed to be doing much better, but she didn’t regret her trip. She needed time away: time to think without her husband’s sad eyes to make her feel guilty. Not that she had escaped him entirely. When she’d arrived in Albany, she had two letters from her husband and one from her sister waiting for her. One of Hamilton’s letters and Angelica’s had both been sent on the day she’d left New York.

“I have been extremely uneasy, My beloved Eliza, at the state of health and state of mind in which you left me. I earnestly hope there has been a change of both for the better,”3 Hamilton had written. She’d nearly laughed. Did he really think a few days on a boat were going to do anything to improve the mess their lives had become?

He’d continued, “I always feel how necessary you are to me. But when you are absent I become still more sensible of it, and look around in vain for that satisfaction which you alone can bestow.”4 The longing in those sentences had made her ache a little. Did he mean that? If he did, if she alone could bring him satisfaction, why did he insist on going back to the army?

Angelica’s letter had helpfully informed her that Hamilton had gone to her house for dinner and that he was “very much out of spirits” over the course of the evening. She’d added that the unpleasant man from dinner the night before, or the “dirty fellow,” in her words, had been “effectually silenced.”5 She wondered queasily if he had been silenced in the same manner as James Jones.

“You look deep in thought, my dear heart.”

Eliza turned in her seat to see her mother carefully making her way to the table to join her. “Hello, Mama,” she greeted, conjuring a warm smile. “How was Papa this morning?”

“He’s getting a little stronger every day,” Kitty Schuyler replied. She lowered herself into a chair with a great sigh, and Eliza quickly set about preparing her a cup of tea. “What had you looking so serious on a such a lovely morning?”

She shook her head, trying to shrug off her troubles and concerns.

“Is it that husband of yours?” Kitty pressed. Eliza’s face must have given it away, because Kitty nodded to herself. “I thought something was wrong, when three letters preceded your arrival. What happened?”

Eliza swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. “We had a fight,” she managed. “We had a…a terrible fight. We said such horrible things to each other. And then I left.”

Kitty laid one of her wrinkled hands atop hers, inviting her to continue, to unload the great weight she’d been carrying inside her for so long.

And so she did. She told her mother about her grief, her anger, her deep and abiding love, and how it all seemed to whirl within her in such a confusing and overwhelming way. “I’m trying so hard. I want to forgive him. Things between us used to be so wonderful, so easy. Now half the time he feels like a stranger. I just don’t know how to make things like they were before. How can I go back?”

“You can’t,” her mother said simply.

Her eyes widened, devastation surging through her. Her mother patted her hand affectionately. “It’s not so bad as all that, dearest. You know, your Papa and I have been married for a very long time now. I’ve learned over the years that sometimes things happen that change your relationship forever: sometimes good things, sometimes bad things. In either case, you can never go back to the marriage you had before. You can only walk forward.”

Eliza nodded, mulling the thought over in her mind.

“You know, many marriages, most I would venture to say, are little more than convenient economic arrangements between men and women. They live in separate spheres, perhaps exchanging polite words over dinner. Even if they don’t start out that way, they usually end up as such.”

She frowned at her mother. Was she saying she should accept the painful distance that had grown up between them? Give up on her loving relationship and accept a life of smiling politely at her husband over shared meals?

“But you and Hamilton, you’ve always shared an uncommon intimacy. You love each other so deeply and passionately. You’re friends, lovers, partners. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, like you’re his only light in a dark world. And he isn’t a stranger; you know him better now than you ever have before. Things between you are going to change, to transform. You’ll continue to love each other, of that I have no doubt. But you need to stop trying to go back to a golden past, sweetheart. You’ll never be able to, and trying will only drive you both mad.”

“How do I move on?” she asked, voice quiet. “How do I get past this?”

“Speak with him,” Kitty answered. “Truly speak with him. Try to understand how this happened, and how to stop it from happening again, so you can begin to rebuild trust. You can’t just hold this inside you and hope if you bury it deep enough, you’ll forget about it.”6

That was exactly the trap she had fallen into, she realized. Burying the hurt, pretending to be fine, and then retreating from him when it reared its ugly head once more.

Her mother leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Whatever happens, you’re going to be just fine, my sweet girl,” she added, taking another sip of her tea.

Eliza stared at her mother for a long moment, wondering how she’d become so wise. A thought occurred to her, a terrible thought: had her father…? Her world seemed to tilt on its axis for a moment as she considered the possibility that her heroic, loving father could ever do such a thing to her mother. Of course, such things happened with a disheartening frequency. The only difference in her case was her husband’s spectacular failure of discretion.

Her heart hurt even more for her daughter: if the idea bothered her this much at forty, what must it be doing to her impressionable thirteen year old?

She didn’t ask her mother, didn’t press her suspicion; she simply sat back and looked out over the water. She tried to soak in the advice. They had spoken very briefly about what had led to the affair: how the stress of his job as Treasury Secretary and his feelings of inadequacy in sufficiently providing for his family had driven him to indulge in a destructive kind of fantasy world. It was part of the reason she felt so worried about him returning to a public position. They’d both attempted to talk further after that conversation, several times, in fact. Hadn’t she been considering such a conversation the very same day they’d had their explosive argument? But now, with clearer expectations, she felt like she might finally be ready.

Her old marriage was gone: mortally wounded by her husband’s betrayal and finally killed by their last fight. But together they could forge a new marriage, a more honest love.

She’d write to him today, when she went inside, she decided.

She gazed out a the tranquil river, feeling lighter and more hopeful that she had in a very long time.

1. Alexander Hamilton to George Washington, 2 June 1798

2. See Affairs of Honor, by Joanne Freeman, p. 172 and A History of the People of the United States: From the Revolution to the Civil War, by John Bach McMaster, p. 381.

3, 4. Hamilton to Eliza, 3 June 1798

5. Angelica Church to Elizabeth Hamilton, undated. All credit to runawayforthesummer and theelizapapers for making a remarkably convincing argument that the “Icarus” letter was not, in fact, written in the summer of 1797, but rather in 1798. Read the post here. Both Hamilton and Angelica mention Hamilton coming by for dinner after Eliza left that night. Also, Hamilton’s letter to Eliza on the day she left for Albany was written on June 3rd, which was a Sunday, and in Angelica’s letter where she talks about Eliza leaving on the sloop, she mentions taking the boy’s with her to church that morning, which also likely places her letter on a Sunday. Everything about it just matches up perfectly. That also means that the “dirty fellow” Angelica mentions wasn’t necessarily James Callender (although it could have been, as circumstances were heating up for him around this time, with the Alien and Sedition Acts coming out soon after). The drunk man (I didn’t want to saddle him with a real identity) at the party was all just my imagination trying to create a circumstance where Hamilton and Eliza would really fight it out.

6. Kitty Schuyler’s advice is sort of an amalgamation of a whole bunch of articles and advice columns I’ve been reading lately. One of the most interesting and insightful source I found was the Dear Sugar podcast four part series on Infidelity, which featured Ester Perel in one episode (another huge thanks to Iris970 for suggesting I seek her work out). Perel also just published an article in the Atlantic (Oct. 2017 Issue) entitled “Why Happy People Cheat: A Good Marriage Is No Guarantee Against Infidelity,” which was also very influential and helpful for this chapter.

[hegivesmemoretime-blog]

Problems and Projects (pt. 2)

Request:  Holy Guacamole Canoli! I love that Jefferson x reader. I definitely wouldn't say no to a sequel (hint hint) (requested by anon)

Characters: Jefferson x Reader

Word Count: 1,276

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of acne (?), low self-esteem, + some writing of questionable quality (oops)

AU: Modern, University 

A/N: I’m thinking about making this into a series! Not too long, maybe 4 or 5 parts? Let me know what you think! Also, texts in this story are italicized and in quotation marks.

Read part 1 here!

You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting when you went to class the next day. Maybe a quick conversation with Jefferson, a smile in your direction, or even just an acknowledgement of your existence. None of that happened, though. He didn’t even argue with Alex like he usually did. 

“Did you see that, Y/N?” Alex exclaimed excitedly as the two of you walked out of the room. “He didn’t even try to prove me wrong on anything. He didn’t insult us at all! Maybe he finally realized it’s useless to argue with us!”

“Mhmm,” you nodded in response, knowing that wasn’t the real reason Jefferson didn’t say anything. You knew it had something to do with you, but you weren’t quite sure what yet. The only explanation you could come up with was that this was his way of keeping your friendship hidden from Alex. It made sense, but that didn’t mean you weren’t upset by it. 

“Are you okay?” Alex asked you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to stop walking. “You’ve barely said anything today.” You looked at the ground, not wanting to give anything away on accident. “Y/N,” Alex said, forcing you to look up at him. “What’s going on? Can I help with anything?”

You shook your head, starting to feel guilty for making him worry about you. “I’m sorry, nothing’s wrong. I guess I just didn’t get much sleep last night,” you replied, hoping that he’d buy that. The look in his eyes told you he didn’t, so you continued, “Even if there was something wrong anyways, you’ve already got so much on your plate. I wouldn’t want to add to that.” 

Alex frowned. “You know I’d always take the time to-”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want you to have to take time for me,” you cut him off before the conversation started going completely off on a tangent. Sighing heavily, you continued, “Look, I’ve got an important essay to work on for one of my other classes, I’ll text you later, okay?” 

“Alright,” Alex nodded, suddenly sounding small. You hated that you made him upset, but the conversation was getting unnecessarily complicated. It went from hiding your disappointment about not talking to Jefferson to basically telling him to mind his own business. 

As you walked to your dorm room, you made a note to yourself to actually text him later. You didn’t want him upset for too long. 

After an hour or so of working on your essay, you decided to take a highly needed and well-deserved break. You’d made tons of progress, but you still had so much work to do. As you poured yourself some coffee, you heard your phone ding with a text notification. You grabbed your mug and walked over to it, surprised to see a text from Jefferson pop up. 

“Hey, are you busy right now?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. The two of you weren’t scheduled to meet to work on your project for a couple more days. As you wracked your brain for any logical reason he could have asked you this, you formulated a response.

“Working on an essay. Why?”

Jefferson responded almost immediately. 

“Feel like taking a break?”

You were about to reply with a offhandedly rude response when another text from him popped up. 

“I got Chinese take-out.”

“Damn him,” you cursed under your breath, also cursing yourself for revealing your food weakness yesterday when you were hanging out. You considered denying his offer, but you really didn’t want to have to work on your essay any more for the night...and you could practically hear the food calling your name from Jefferson’s room. 

“Well,” you typed back, “We wouldn’t want that food to go to waste, now would we? I’ll be over in 10.”

After your message had sent, you pulled a sweatshirt over your head and looked in the mirror. Your hair was pulled up messily into a bun, which didn’t look so great at this point, but your make-up still looked fine. “Why do I care what I look like, anyways?” you wondered, deciding that how you looked now would have to do as you walked out the door. 

When you arrived at Jefferson’s dorm room, he greeted you with a smile and ushered you inside. “Welcome, to my humble abode,” he said cheekily, closing the door behind you. 

“I’ve been here before, ya’ know,” you muttered under your breath, smiling as he let out a hearty laugh. “Where’s the food?” you asked, getting right down to business. 

“‘Oh, Thomas, it’s so nice to see you. Thanks for inviting me over and feeding me!’“ he said in a high-pitched voice to imitate you (and reminding you that you called him Thomas now, not Jefferson). “No problem,” he continued back in his normal octave, “It’s a pleasure having the company!”

You swatted at his arm. “Yes, thank you for the invitation, blah blah blah, where’s the food?”

“Over here, you freak,” Thomas shook his head, but he was laughing so you knew that he wasn’t actually offended. He led you into the kitchen area, grabbing a paper plate and setting it down in front of you. “Sorry, our fine china is currently being washed, so I hope a paper plate will suit your needs,” he joked. 

You sighed dramatically, snatching the plate. “Well, it’s not the quality I was expecting, nor the quality I deserve, but I guess it’ll do,” you joked back. 

Once the two of you had dished whatever food you wanted onto your plates, you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. You weren’t sure exactly what you were watching, but Thomas seemed pretty into it so you gave it your attention. 

After a couple minutes of no one talking, Thomas said, “Tell me a secret.”

“What?” you asked, not sure if you’d heard him right. When he repeated himself, you said, “Why would I do that? We went from arguing all the time to being friends just yesterday.”

“That’s true,” he replied, “But I promise you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone. I’m just tryin’ to get ta’ know you.”

You considered this for a second before deciding there really wasn’t any harm in telling him something. “Well,” you started, “In middle school I had terrible acne, like covering my entire face and chest, and that earned me the nickname ‘Pizza Face’,” you revealed, smiling tightly. 

“Shit,” Thomas laughed, “That’s harsh.”

“Yeah, well kids are mean, and - ” you paused mid-sentence as a girl walked into the scene on the show that was playing. “God, she’s gorgeous,” you commented, unable to help yourself from admiring her. “Look!” you exclaimed, pointing to her. 

Thomas turned to the screen and nodded in appreciation before saying, “So are you.”

It took you a moment to comprehend what you said, but when you did, you let out a dry laugh. “Please,” you scoffed. “I’m fuckin’ ugly,” you said as you shoveled another bite of food in your mouth to accentuate your point.  

“Don’t say that,” Thomas shot back immediately, frowning. “If you could see the way half of the male population looked at you every day, you’d change your mind.”

You were glad to have food in your mouth to chew, because it gave you more time to think of a response. “Thank you?” you said once you’d swallowed, unsure of what else to say. 

Thomas just nodded in response, and it was quiet once more. 

“What just happened?” you wondered in your head as the silence grew thicker with every second. “And why am I happy he said that?”

A/N: This is just a quick reminder that requests are open, so send in any prompt or scenario you’d like to see me write about!

[katekvne-blog]

Do I Wanna Know (part 2)

Alex Standall x Reader

Do I Wanna Know part 1

A/N: Hello guys! I finally gave in and wrote a part 2 of this. I’m going to stick to one shots from now on though since I don’t want to leave stories hanging, especially now that I’m back at uni. Speaking of school, I apologize in advance if updates are slow. If I haven’t replied to your requests, I’m either working on it already or it’s included in my list so please bear with me. Also, thank you for reading my imagines.Much love! I had to use this gif of Madelaine just because she is gorgeous and that dress is so beautiful. It’s also relevant with most of the scene in this imagine since winter formal hehe

Bolded and Italicized sentences are lyrics from Jason Mraz’s I won’t give up.

On weekends, you and Alex meet up to rehearse the song at his house. Other times, you do it after class when both of you are free. It had been like that for the past three weeks and now, tonight is the night. A night to remember, to make impressions, and to sing your heart out to a song contradicting the desolation you feel. Winter formal and events like it are allegedly the highlight of high school, which is not surprising at all. Tonight, after all, is a night of slow dances, taking risks, and of firsts. However, for you it is a night you dread for the closure you yearn. You were already parked near the gym of the Liberty high and yet, you can’t help but sit still and anxiously tug on the flower on your wrist. The idea of entering the venue and getting closer to your moment of embarrassment is not too enticing just yet.

A tap on your side of the window diverted your attention from the flower, it was Courtney and two other girls. You awkwardly smiled at them and carefully got out of the car making sure you don’t step on your velvet gown.

“Nervous for your debut tonight?” Courtney asked. You breathed out a sigh and laughed feeling your nerves relaxed a little. She took you by the arms and excitedly engaged you in conversation talking about how the sophomores had to re do the decorations in just two days. As you neared the gym, you muttered a low “fuck, let’s do this.” making your companions chuckle.

As soon as you entered the gym, Courtney and her friends excitedly went to the dance floor already forgetting about you. You smiled at their excitement and went on your way walking around to find a particular blonde. Easy enough, you found him drinking pulp beside the table filled with food. You waved as you walk towards him and you felt his gaze on you as if he was studying you.

“You look decent tonight, Y/L/N.” Alex said with a hint of his usual cheekiness. You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“Thank you. You’re starting to look like a decent human yourself.” You clap back. Before you could continue your banter, Ryan Shaver appeared between you.

“You’re up in 3. Be ready to sweep these people off their feet.” He nonchalantly said before walking off towards the DJ station not even waiting for your response. You bit your lips in nervousness as you look at the people gathered in the middle, dancing so fervently.

“What are you worried for? You’ve got a nice singing voice it’s like constipated angels were humming.” Alex teased. You lightly punched him in the shoulder before walking towards the stage just right in front of the DJ station.

“ Let’s give it up for Alex Standall and Y/N Y/L/N to serenade us with this special song. Perfect time to get close and intimate with that special someone.” Ryan announced.

“Do you wanna say something first?” You whispered to Alex to which he just shook his head. “Alright, but I thought you were going to serenade Jessica with this? Don’t you wanna…you know?”

“In private, I will.” He said. You nodded and got into position, you took the mic from the stand and held it nervously. You scanned the room looking at the people who are already occupying the center of the gym.

“To the people who are helplessly in love. To those who continuously choose to love despite the torment and heartache. To the people who keep on holding on despite the hopelessness you feel. You are all loved and you deserve happiness! This song is a shout out for all of you. ” You said closed eyes before turning to Alex signaling him to begin.

I don’t wanna be someone who walks away so easily

I’m here to stay and make the difference that I can make

Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use

The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake

You sang about not giving up while you thought of letting go. Guilt is eating you up but you also know that Alex wouldn’t really care if you gave up, that he’d be fine, and that you must do what you must for the pain to stop.The song finishes and bigger crowd soon formed in the gym when Tony started playing a more upbeat song. Alex high fived you and went off to find Jessica, while you decided to sit on the bleachers to pass the time. You walked up to Hannah who happily welcomed your company.

“Your voice is really beautiful.” Hannah complimented.

“Really? I’m glad. I was sweating buckets during that performance.” You chuckled. “Uh I think Clay is looking at you.” You said darting your eyes to the other side of the room. She excitedly but unsurely grinned at you.

“Go on, Hannah. Enjoy yourself! Anyways, I have somewhere I need to be soon.” You assured her. She went on her merry way towards the dance floor. You can’t help but smile at the two of them, both obviously likes the other so much, if only one of them would ask the other out already.

You scanned the room immediately seeing the blonde who stood out amongst brunettes. There he was happily chatting with the girl he is head over heels in love with. The mere fact that you felt jealous was something you’ve always felt guilty about, you want Alex to be happy, you really do but you also hoped that he would stop pining over his taken ex. Soon after, Jessica went with Sheri to the dance floor. With shaking legs and rapidly beating heart, you went over to Alex excusing him from his jock friends.

“Alex, can I talk to you for a second?” You asked him nervously, you could swear your voice quivered. The blonde, on the other hand, straightaway noticed the seriousness of your tone. You nervously but calmly walked out of the gym with him trailing behind you.

“What’s wrong,y/n?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is fin-”

“You’ve got teary eyes…yeah sure everything is fine.” He said sarcastically.

“Alex, just fucking listen. I mean it when I said that everything is fine. I just have to get some things off my chest before I can finally move forward. I’m so sorry.” You shifted your gaze away from him, the floor suddenly becoming much more interesting.

“I…I love you, Alex. Don’t worry! I’m not expecting you to return the feelings.  I mean I already know, I’m the girl you talk to about Jessica. ” you smiled through your tears. He looked confused, speechless and clueless as to what to do. You took that moment to hug him before walking away. It might be selfish telling him all this. It might be contradictory to say you want him to be happy but also distance yourself from him. It might have been better to not tell him anything at all and just keep quiet, but well, the damage between you has been done and you are the catalyst.

It has been two weeks since the winter formal, since you’ve talked to Alex. Not even in band rehearsals since you decided to skip the weekly sessions. Sometimes, you would see him around the campus, but you always ended up either going the other way or pretending you did not see him. Once during gym class, Zach casually approached you asking what happened between the two of you, but you just shrugged at him, not giving an answer.However, something he said struck you. “Alex looks miserable at best.” You feel your heart sink knowing you contributed in putting him in that position. He must have realized how ridiculous it was to go after Jessica when she already has Justin and you abandoned him when he needed someone the most.

A crowd was gathered near the entrance of the campus, there seems to be a fight so you casually approached to see who it was. You feel an overwhelming amount of panic, stomach was churning at the sight of Alex being beaten to a pulp. You scrambled towards them trying to pull Monty away from Alex to no avail.

“Fuck Monty, fucking stop! A little help?!” You yelled looking at the people surrounding you,  but no one came. You saw some familiar faces, some of his friends even but they were frozen. Not a single person moved to help. Monty finally stood up leaving a bloodied Alex on the ground. You ran to Alex’s side helping him stand up.

“The fuck were you thinking picking fights, Standall?!?” You yelled at him in a low voice as you help him stand up.

“Oh so now we’re talking?!” Alex was pissed. Wide eyed, you stared at him not knowing what to say. While guilt over your damaged friendship may eat you up, you do not regret telling him how much he means to you and how much you love him…except maybe during moments that you yearned to talk to him, to tell him something that happened to you or maybe just a random fact you found online.

“Chill. You look like you saw a fucking ghost.” He sighed. “….Listen, I understand why you want to distance yourself. And I may not see you as how I saw Jess….but that doesn’t mean you are any less important to me. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

“You’re one of the only good things going on for me and i’m fucking losing my shit, y/n. Please, I don’t want to lose you too. Not you, y/n.” His voice somber, devoid of his usual cheekiness, and he sounded almost monotonous if not for his voice quivering. His hand held you by the wrist and you can just feel their slight trembling as he try to keep a straight face. Being his best friend, you’ve been his support system for the past years and while it was rare seeing Alex like this, him coming undone was always very raw and intense. It was almost impossible for you to deny him. Speechless, you lunged yourself towards him, holding him in your arms.

“I love you too much to let you lose me, you fucking idiot.” You mumbled tears flowing. He smiled rubbing your back in the embrace.

And in the end, you’re still my friend at least we did intend

For us to work we didn’t break, we didn’t burn

We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in

I had to learn what I’ve got, and what I’m not, and who I am

“So..before things get awkward I might as well come clean and let you know now, since you didn’t let me speak before you left the winter formal.” He said smiling as he wiped away your tears. “Remember when I asked you to change the song the day before the event?” You nodded in response.

“A week or so before that, I didn’t really see any sense anymore, especially because she was already happy. I wanted to talk to her to be sure that I was ready and if the past two weeks made me realize anything it is that I am and that you mean so much more to me than what  I thought before.”

“Are you taking advantage of my feelings, Standall?” You joked but he just stared at you, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sigh exasperatedly before finally cupping your face in between his soft and bony hands.

“Ugh I know this isn’t an ideal time but fuck it i’m done being too blind to see what is in front of me all along. I just want to be with you, y/n. Maybe we can give it a shot?” He asked nervously.

“Well, well, well how the tables have turned.” You smirked and he just rolled his eyes before looking at you with hopeful eyes again. “Look, Alex I love you so much but if we’re going to give this a shot I want you to be sure, I want dont want you to do this because you feel sorry or anything I wan–”

Before you could finish your sentence, he kissed you gently, which soon turned passionate and hungry and as both of you come up for air…..

“Hey, no PDA near the school premises, Mr. Standall and Ms. L/N! What are you doing out here? classes will soon begin.” you turned towards the voice only to see Mr. Porter in his car. You mutter an apology to him and not soon after a thankfully short preaching, he left the two of you by the side walk. A few students still walking by trying to catch up before the bell.

“Is that sure enough for you?” Alex asked smugly grinning at you. You rolled your eyes, lightly punching him in the chest.

“I don’t know, Standall. It feels a bit forced and hesitant and um..um…” You said sarcastically. Alex, in response, just chuckled, ruffling your hair and pulled you with him towards the entrance of the school.