#it just makes the contrast more befuddling and worse

[shallowseeker]

In the timeline where the universe in Lebanon allows John to stay, Dean’s first inner breakdown comes from finding John intruding into the bunker kitchen, expertly chopping carrots for a pot roast.

Dean can’t even put into words why he’s so upset.

He flees to the library.

Sam says, “He’s trying, Dean. We have to let him try.”

///

Dean stomachs the dinner.

But he can’t stomach the leftovers that John carefully wraps and stores in the bunker fridge.

///

So, that’s how Cas finds him, at 2 a.m., frantically scraping the containers of pot roast into the garbage.

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #37

Batgirl (2000) #17 - August 2001 Writer: Kelley Puckett Pencils: Damion Scott inks: Robert Campanella Colors: Jason Wright

Cass's book as been pretty downbeat for the last few issues. The tone of Cass's book overall is pretty sad and heavy, and normally I'm all about that angst, but the book can't live on angst alone, so have to have some brighter moments for contrast, you've gotta take the pressure off every once in a while if you want to keep building it or you just burn out the scale. So this issue brings us a refreshing change of pace, if only to give Cass and the reader a bit of a breather.

Sorry if this one goes up late. I'm running behind time wise, but I don't want to take a minimal approach to this issue, it's pretty important and has a lot of great moments. Do pease read it for yourself first, though.

The issue starts with this pretty cool sequence showing Cass's perspective as she gets distracted by the woman running away and lets this random goon land a punch on her. I like how the slideshow effect of the three repeated panels really emphasizes how much time Cass had to dodge this punch.

Followed by this great 'like father like daughter moment after she knocks the guy out where Cass and Bruce both have the same surprised and befuddled "Hmm" reaction to what just happened, with the same expression on their face and everything.

The perfectly synchronized training afterwords is also great, as is Bruce's worried expression. I can't keep copying every page over, we'll be here all day, but this issue really is great. One of my favorites. Again, go read it for yourself if you haven't.

Anyway, on the one hand this is such an indictment of Bruce. We the audience know that 'somethings been wrong' with Cass for a while, basically the entire time. She's consumed by guilt to a near suicidal degree and the loneliness and isolation of her lifestyle - even before she was forced out of Bab's clock tower but especially since - has left her without any companionship beyond her own self destructive thoughts, and the mission she's so dedicated to as her only hope of redemption continuously exposes her to the worst of humanity. So yeah, that Bruce didn't already know something was wrong, that he didn't anticipate how his decisions were making things worse, that he only notices that anything's off at all once Cass's mental state is bad enough that it's affecting her performance on the job? Yeah, that's pretty bad, if also so completely him.

On the other hand, you can see the concern all over his face. He should have seen this coming, he should have noticed it sooner, but now that he has he is very genuinely worried on her behalf, and that does count for something, even if he'll need help figuring out what's wrong or what to do about it.

And that help just so happens to call in the form of Barbara Gordon, who can hack in to delete the government's digital records on Cass's face, but needs her to sneak in and destroy the physical records.

At first Cass and Bruce don't feel like this is worth bothering with, as neither sees any value in her potential future civilian persona worth taking this risk to get it back, but Babs points out how they might yet connect the data they have to Batgirl and that convinces Bruce, which in turn convinces Cassandra because she absolutely does not think for herself these days.

I love this Jab Babs gets in at Bruce as Cass leaves, though I do wish it was made a bit more explicit that the *reason* Bruce has been keeping Cass on such a 'short leash' is that he doesn't fully trust her ever since David sent the video of her killing that man way back in issue number 4. On the surface Bruce is still deep in denial over it, but some part of it has to know, has to doubt at least. As is I'm pretty sure that's intentional subtext but because it's not explicit in the text I could just be reading in something that isn't really there.

In infiltration mission is pretty cool, starting with this sequence where Cass steals a key card off of a guard's bead chain, copies it, and puts it back without him noticing, which has Barbara admitting that the 'short leash' is starting to make sense. Just what exactly would Cass be capable of if she were allowed to run free?

....

The mission is successful, the files and physical evidence destroyed, and Cass's out-of-costume persona is free and clear. She can visit Barbara again, can see the sun again. Can. But will she?

Babs clearly doesn't think she will, at least not on her own, and so she goes to Bruce about it

It's a nice scene. I've missed Bab's presence in Cass's book the last few issues. This 'arguing over what's best for Cass' bit is fun, and also important characterization. I love how Bruce's expression as he says "Mole creature?" makes clear that he recognizes Bab's comment as a criticism of him and his lifestyle.

Of course, Bruce has a different idea of what's been bothering Cass. Not the isolation, not how /he's/ been treating her, but the mission. Everything's the mission for Bruce, and Cass is just like Bruce after all. The thing is, as right as Barbara clearly is here, Bruce probably isn't wrong either. Cass, like Bruce, dwells on her 'failures'. But taking down the villain responsible never actually makes Bruce feel any better.

Barbara still presses him to just order Cass to get some sun. The fact that she shouldn't need Bruce to tell her to do that, that this level of devotion and lack of independent motivation is a bad thing in and of it self, is too big of a problem to tackle today.

And to his credit Bruce relents!

I love these panels. You can feel how overwhelming the light is after so long in the darkness. Also good work from the colorist, showing this transition by going from all dark and cool colors that dominate her book to these warm (but washed out and too bright as her eyes struggle to adjust) colors. I mean, it's a fairly obvious trick, like being wowed when a musician changes chords, but it just works so well here.

And it's not just the sun, it's the people. Not just cass literally going from darkness to light but also going from being surrounded by victims and criminals, by the suffering and the cruel, and emerging into a wider world full of all the breadth and diversity of the human experience, loud happy annoyed worried people walking and running and shouting and living their lives that Scott does such a great job conveying with just a single page full of different and interesting faces.

And afterwards she's so happy, having picked up a rose from, somewhere, we don't see that bit. But of course Bruce needs to interrupt this moment of happiness.

So Cass does go to confront gov't man.

but clearly she doesn't actually feel better about what happened afterwords.

Her symbolism happiness rose, only so recently acquired, is already wilting. It's clearly not the sort of thing she can go to Bruce about. So, for once, now that she can, Cass actually reaches out to Barbara for help. About the rose. About what it means that getting justice for repentant sniper man's death didn't make her feel any better about it.

It's a great little scene to end out the comic. Symbolism's a bit on the nose, but it works. it's sincere.

The angst and darkness of the last few issues has been a lot, but it makes this bit of brightness feel all the more impactful. The underlying issues aren't resolved, it's still a problem that Cass has basically slotted Bruce into exactly the same unhealthy role that David used to occupy in her life. It's still a problem that Bruce let her do that. A real confrontation when Bruce can no longer deny the fact that she killed someone is still looming, as is her death match with Lady Shiva. But she's not quite so isolated now, and she's re-established a connection with someone who might actually be able to help her work through some of this stuff.

This might be the issue that best demonstrates the importance of Barbara Gordon in Cass's story, the key role she plays balancing out Bruce's influence. these interpersonal relationships and how they feed off each other - Cass/Bruce/David, Cass/Bruce/Barbara, they're the core of what makes Cass's book and Cass as a character so compelling.

......

Side note: I've waffled in the past over how much crediting to put at the start of each of these posts in terms whether to include inker and/or colorist even though I rarely comment on those issues. I'm wondering if I should also list the editor each time, as they also potentially have a pretty big say over what does or doesn't end up in the books, and keeping track of changing editors might be informative as to other changes in direction, or might show why some of Cass's side appearances work better than others?

For the Record, at least as far as her solo book goes, the editor as of issue 17 is Michael Wright, who took over from Dennis O'Neil starting in issue 14, the one where Bruce moved Cass out of Barbara's clock tower and into her own cave. Dennis O'Neil had been the editor of the book since issue 3 and co-edited issue 2 with Darren Vincenzo, who was the editor for issue 1. I think Michael Wright stays as editor for the rest of Cass's Batgirl run, save maybe for some one off exceptions here or there? So noting editors would be more for the sake of guest appearances.

There's also the issue of who's in charge at DC. As of issue 17 that's still Jenette Khan as President and Editor in Chief, but eventually Dan DiDio takes over, and it'll be worth noting when that happens. The fandom tends to assign him a lot of the blame for 'ruining' Cass's character, but as mentioned a few times already they also tend to date that downturn purely to the end of her ongoing title and heel turn in 'One Year Later.' I claim the decline started setting in much sooner then that, but I don't remember whether it started before or after DiDio's tenure as EIC began.

That's still a long way off from where this blog currently is, though.

Thankfully.

[mothduchess]

"My princess, I've come to rescue you!"

Boots thundered up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking from the joy and determination of a quest soon to be over. Monstrous gore sloughed off with each step, discarded trophies of the tower's sentries.

The princess was shocked upon hearing the proclamation; she had been trapped in this tower for ages, given all that one could ask for except her freedom. The door was slain, bursting into splinters as the iron bands surrendered to her thundering rescuer.

Except there were two.

The hero came in twain, befuddling the princess. Her tail drooped, her head tilted ever so slightly to the left. Before her stood two brave warriors, each claiming to be her savior.

One rode out of her dreams, a barrel chested stalwart tower of chivalry and steel. A luscious coat poked from his chest, black and white contrasting with gleaming steel plate. His helmet found itself lodged under his arm, to better show off a calming expression. The fine set of plate and mail found itself draped over a muscular, sturdy frame, as if he came to life from the palace's own statue gardens. The knight's trusty blade - glimmering as it was with enchantments - wa spotless, as was his shield. Behind the man wagged his tail; he was the image of a kindly rescuer, the princess long-lost shield.

The other, however, was worse for wear. Armor hung off the figure in scraps, tattered leather straps wheezing for air with every motion daring to pull them into ribbons. The metal was dented, scuffed, and stained with notable holes providing windows to ruinous scars and bloodied bandages. Monster innards and the splattered brains of fiends stained the gammbison, the final portions splattering onto the brickwork. The Princess could hardly stomach the gore. Accompanying the scars and abominable anatomy was some of the warrior's own - cruel enchantments had woven themselves into their flesh. An eye made stone, utilitarian claws to replace a shattered axe, leathery wings that fused themselves to the mercenary's limbs; their body was twisted into a shape more fitting for a labyrinth than a statue.

They both repeated themselves - "Princess, I've come to free you!"

The Polished turned to the Scarred, and winced.

"Egads, what manner of beast be ye? Hast thou come to slay the fair maiden, so as to prevent her capture?" A gauntlet covered hand shifted to his sword. The Scarred held along their paw.

"Never. How could I? I took.... a bit, and broke the spells below the tower. They backfired, but there shouldn't be anything stopping us from leaving this tower now. Just.... give me a bit," requested the weary fighter. They held out a scroll, which the knight batted away with a scabbard.

"You fiend! Dare you twist a cruel hex upon us both? Such claims will not work on I nor her!" The hero's teeth were barred in a display of aggression, ears slanting back and posture tilted forward. His armor clicked and clanged with the jolt closer. The scroll, cast aside, landed at the Princess' feet. The Scarred's eyes grew in surprise.

"Listen to yourself! I don't know what's going on here, but I just fought through seven levels, above AND below. Look, the Lich is dead - I already had to spend half the year tracking down his soul." He laughed, looking to the princess. "Would you believe me if I told you it was stuffed inside a mouse?" The princess chittered in delight.

Scorn writhed upon the knight's face. The battered warrior clambered to his feet, backed into the wall. "Let's not fight here. We both did good work. I thought I heard commotion, and I saw your work down there. If we go back to the kingdom, we can both collect the reward."

"The reward?" The others questioned with varying tones. Sheepishly did the warrior roll their head before nodding.

"Yeah, well potions aren't cheap. Neither are rations or armor. Nice set, by the way. Royal? Makes sense... Look, you- I mean, don't get me wrong. I came to save you. It's just, treasure is nice."

The knight, the hero, the Polished and brave, would not take this affront to dignity. The Princess' most of all! He brandished his blade.

But the Princess had other plans. Within her fine grasp did she pluck the discarded scroll from its place on the floor, and looked into its arcane glyphs. She then looked to her two saviors and looked around her room for an answer to her dilemma, until she found something on which to reflect.

The Scarred glanced over to the princess, who was making her way to a mirror. She raised the healing scroll to the mirror, and then looked to the two warriors. A stern stare was all that she need employ to send a message. Into her reflection did she speak the scroll's spell, and the magic lurched from its counterpart.

Arcane tendrils screamed to the Polished; in a flash, the knight's steel turned to wood and his flesh translucent. A facade was revealed, as a homunculus made from an abominable bile stood in a sham of wood and copper. A faceless head contorted into a silent glare. The Scarred, addled, raised their claws nonetheless in a last ditch attempt.

"Behind me!" Shouted the warrior.

"Yes, behind you!" The Princess' sudden voice brought confusion as the doppelgänger struck from an unexpected angle, flesh warping so that his blade may sink into exposed flesh.

"All this would have taken," heaved the false one, "was just sticking to your script. A monster slain. A princess saved. You go home - I get my happy ending."

The Scarred swiped at air, the hero twisting out of the way before sending an elbow down. "That imperious Lich thought himself god for capturing you! But when I heard a hero was facing him down, I knew I had a chance. All I had to do, was claim you were a demon and myself the hero. I'd be free of this place, with a new face to boot!"

The Polished sent a knee into the Scarred's gut. Months of adventuring made themself apparent, as finally their wounds had become undone once more. The amalgam of flesh and lies twisted back into shape standing over their other.

"Just lie down. No one would accept you anyway. You're broken - you can barely fight, and you're a face no one in the kingdom could bear to sing of. 'Hark! Hear the tale of the freak of wing and claw!' To whom would that drivel even appe-!"

The monologue was cut short by the princess tackling the beast. "Hurry! I have him!"

"What?! NO! You idiot! This would've been perfect! It's have been an easy story, a perfect one to tell your father!" Grunting and groaning, the warrior stood up, their wounds closing on account of their own warped flesh.

"Easy? Yes," answered the princess. "But it wouldn't have been the right tale. No one wants a story built on a lie."

The creature shrieked as together, by sharp claw and wrong neck, the fiend was felled. The two were exhausted, winded from the skirmish. A nod was exchanged, a sign of respect.

The maidens fair would always like a savior true and sturdy, of bent iron and gaping flesh. But so too does a warrior wish for a princess truly worth saving.

Princesses don’t want to be rescued by knights in shining armor. They want knights with armor that’s dented, scarred, and maybe patched with the bones of slain beasts.

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

Dincobb Week Day 4 - AU/Freebie Day (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have just one story and it's SFW. It's the second of the three linked stories (SFW, SFW and NSFW in that order - but the two SFWs can stand alone if you prefer not to read the NSFW one).

AU/Freebie Day - I chose Drunken Home Ear Piercing (as a free choice, not an AU)

People have idiosyncrasies when they get drunk. Din’s noticed that, mostly as an onlooker, because his principles for most of his life didn’t allow for social drinking. He’s never been one to drink alone either — given how much he was alone, it seemed like a fast track to pickling himself in alcohol — so he’s mostly just watched, feeling uncomfortable because he can’t participate and people either think he’s a killjoy or that he must have some deep dark personal reason for not drinking, when it’s just the practical fact that you can’t keep your face covered and drink. So when he came to stay with Cobb, broken-hearted and bare-faced, he kind of crashed into drinking far too much too fast, and paid the price with a sunburn that took days to heal and made the whole affected area peel like tattered white lace.

“Passes out in the blazing sun and half cooks himself” was a pretty stupid drunken idiosyncrasy, definitely worse than “decides he can sing” or “wants to get into everyone’s lap” or “starts planning a revolution” or the other quirks he’s observed in the people he’s known over the years. He’s managed not to make a habit of it. With a bit of guidance from Cobb on knowing when to stop, and drinking to enjoy the experience, not to blot out how awful you’re feeling, the tendency that seems to be developing is just “easily talked into things.”

Cobb is generally the one talking him into things, and fortunately so far they haven’t been too troublesome — dancing with him was nice, obviously, and the pancakes eventually peeled off the kitchen ceiling after they tried to make midnight breakfast and he didn’t know his own strength flipping them. Neither of them can really remember what they were hoping to accomplish by digging that pit out the back of the house but there was a very muddled drawing on a scrap of paper on the living room floor labelled, as far as they could make out the next day, AWESOME SWIMMING POOL. The less said about the lawn chair incident the better, but they both walked away from it, somewhat unsteadily.

That’s not Cobb’s idiosyncrasy so much as the effect of the two of them being otherwise sensible and competent men who for some reason get a little bit dumb when they put their heads together. His thing is that, by contrast with the many people who find their calling as a stripper when tipsy, he starts putting things on. He keeps darting into his bedroom and coming back to show Din this great hat, or a big coat he found in a thrift store, or how many sweaters he can put on at once, or the jacket with the fringe which swings out when he goes like this (which coincided with the dancing). This evening it’s his best suit, another second-hand find which probably predates the Empire and features not only fringe but embroidery. He parades around the living room enjoying the attention, since Din is suitably impressed, before dumping himself down on the couch next to him again and taking a long pull on the drink he abandoned to go and get dressed up. As his head tips back Din notices something shining and looks closer. Cobb has an earring, a yellow gold sun in his right earlobe with a rose gold sun hanging from it on a tiny ring.

“Hey, where’d you get that?” he asks, trying to touch it without pulling on it.

“Oh, that? Found it in the jacket pocket when I got changed. I thought I lost it dancing at Tracy Dunerunner’s wedding last winter. Must’ve just dropped in there by luck.”

“It’s so pretty.”

“Why, thank you.” Cobb tilts his head to let him admire it better. “I only really wear it for special occasions. Thought the hole might’ve closed up, but it seems okay.”

“You should wear it more. It looks good on you,” Din says earnestly. “I wish I could wear stuff like that.”

“Why can’t you?”

Din blinks at him, befuddled. “Don’t have pierced ears,” he says.

“Well how the heck do you think ears get pierced, dummy? You gotta pierce ‘em. I’ll help you, I’m good at this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s easy. C’mon, the best light’s in the kitchen.”

So without quite intending it he’s ended up sitting on a kitchen chair with Cobb wiping his right earlobe with alcohol and then rubbing it with an ice-cube to numb it. That feels really weird and it makes him wriggle around so Cobb sits on his lap facing him to hold him still, which feels weird from a whole different angle.

“Okay,” says Cobb, flourishing a sharp darning needle, “I’m ready to operate. Got you a nice little earring to start off with.” It’s sitting on the table after a dip in a shot glass full of rubbing alcohol, a plain silver stud, like a moon to Cobb’s suns. “I’m gonna need you to hold still for me, okay partner? Real still, because if you pull we might just tear your earlobe, and it’ll heal but who wants to deal with that?” He’s cut a piece of potato for Din to hold just behind his earlobe, so when Cobb sticks the needle through quick and hard the point will go into that instead of the side of his neck.

“I can hold still,” Din says, although his heart is beating fast and his numb earlobe is already starting to feel warm again.

“Okay,” says Cobb. He rubs the ice-cube over his ear again, making it sting and tingle with the cold before it grows number. “On the count of three, one, two,” and he stabs the needle through right then. Din gasps in shock and no small amount of pain, ice or not, but he manages to keep still. “That’s great,” says Cobb, “just a little bit more now, hold on for me, hold on,” and with slippery fingers from ice and blood he pulls the needle free from the potato and then manages to fumble the stud post through the raw new hole and get the back onto it. “Woo!” he cheers, raising his arms in the air. “That looks great!” He grabs the little shaving mirror from the kitchen table and holds it up for Din. “Take a look!”

It’s hard to get a look at his own ear in the small mirror but Din makes it out; there are bloody fingerprints on his neck and ear that make the whole thing look kind of gory but there’s the little silver ball shining in his earlobe, and it really does look great. A big smile breaks out on his face as Cobb wipes and dabs the blood away with a damp cotton ball, and then touches the fresh piercing and the pain is so sharp he yells “Fuck!” right in Cobb’s face. Cobb starts laughing and apologising and laughing more.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, sorry, at least it wasn’t alcohol, right?”

“It was alcohol, that’s the point,” says Din.

Cobb glances back over his shoulder at the unfortunately identical-looking shot glasses of water and rubbing alcohol and says “Whoops. Well, it’s clean.” His voice turns gentle and coaxing. “C’mon, you’re okay, right? A big strong man like you?” He strokes Din’s jawline as he admires his ear, and it’s pretty hard to stay angry. The pain has changed from a stab to a hot throbbing, and when he holds the melting ice to it he feels some instant relief. Cobb’s looking at him with such a lovely smile, and he finds he wants to earn more of that.

“You think you could do the other side too?” he asks.

[acedhigh]

SIEGEMAS 2020 @dualrainbow​ starring: Marius Streicher, Dominic Brunsmeier, Monika Weiss, Elias Kötz. main blog: @elitejager​ note: hey to anyone who reads this, I haven’t written anything in forever and the only time I’ve ever written a fic was a request, so this is a first for me. as an Autistic person I wanted to touch on the topic a little (i.e how the world views us versus how we view others and express ourselves) and incorporate it into my prompt for this piece. Marius inspires me a lot, I know he’s a popular part of Team Rainbow so I hope you all like it & happy holidays ✌

07 December.

As an icy chill snaked its way down his nape, Marius was reminded of the changed season. Days, weeks even, inside the workroom (his 'safehaven' as he called it to himself), made time and weather and all things mundane merge together in one big negligible blur. The transition between October into November now early December had seemed so...rapid. "Getting lost in one's work" was nothing short of apropos for this revelation; Unfazed by the cold however, he merely rolled down his sleeves and resumed gazing intently at his go-to site for ordering parts - Hated the white background (far too garish) but it offered the best of the best, and a quicker delivery schedule. He'd need it. It wasn't unusual for him to spend great bouts of time in one place. Even less unusual to be knee-deep in a project or two. But it was when morning frost and Christmas music became part of everyday life to crudely round off the year, that Monika and Elias were particularly attentive to Marius and his propensity to isolate. He'd been like that as long as they could recall. It could be almost jarring at first - His quips that'd rub less-familiar colleagues the wrong way, the speed at which his social battery would fizzle out like an ember, and a subtle arrogance which stepped on many toes. In contrast to Marius' heated and bull-headed nature, even his enthusiasm and eagerness to share or contribute somehow seemed misplaced or perhaps just poorly timed; Boundaries were a struggle and frequently crossed line despite how many walls he put between himself and others. He was unpredictable to most. "Hard to decipher", as Monika once put it. She was the first out of the four to recognize he was on the spectrum, and it tugged at her heartstrings to watch him endure contempt in place of a little understanding - But she vowed to hold her tongue. She did not want to patronise or belittle someone as bold as Marius. After all, in many ways she considered him to rival herself academically, and that garnered much of her respect. He was capable, he didn't need her or anybody else to coddle him or worry. Monika did not worry about him at all in fact, until this time of year.

16 December.

Elias had a similar view. Never had he met someone so rigid in his performance, so disciplined, yet so antsy. Must be the whole chaos of creativity, he thought. He recounted several incidences where he tried his hand at entertaining Marius, to no avail. Like things just didn't connect with him or tickle him the way Elias could achieve with others. But that didn't mean they lacked a connection at all - They were close, but where other people stood Marius was always one step further away, by his own accord. It was clear from the get go that the engineer liked to do things his way and per his agenda. Elias would grant him the favour of “breathing room” because he knew that although Marius held people at arms' length, beneath that eccentric exterior there was a shining heart of gold that cared deeply about the people he would shoo out of his workroom. Today was no exception, apparently.

"Hey, Marius--" There he was, ensconced in something technical of course, and drenched in fluorescent white light.

"No!"

"Huh--"

"Don't-- You can't look. Just...I'm busy. And I'm discussing this prototype of mine with the head of BMVg, whatever it is, it can wait."

Oops, Elias. "This isn't for prying eyes, it's commission work. I'll humour you later."

"Ah, err, got it. No peeking. Just don't work yourself to death and I'll check back in tonight. See ya!"

Yeah, this wasn't uncommon he muses, as he's met with a cold hand gesture towards the door. Though Elias couldn't help but wonder if maybe Marius was pushing himself even harder as to not think about the holidays. Dominic's relationship with him was different. Not as warm to the touch. And certainly more volatile, when tension arose. A clash of unorthodox personalities. They were polar opposites in one way, but fiercely empathetic in others, because pariahs stick together even when grating on each others' nerves - It was their non-conformity that made them a good team no matter how unconventional (and potentially troublesome) the dynamics. He knew how it was to be alone like the back of his hand. Maybe that too is the reason for their kinship, once all strain dissipated. Even he occasionally considered how his comrade handled the isolation; Dominic relished it to a degree, a darker mind who co-existed with his demons. But he knew Marius and he frequently observed his drive to form relationships only for them to fall flat or worse because of that same old disconnect Elias talked about on occasion. Never brought it up verbally but nothing could ghost Dominic's perusal. "Damn. Rejected again," Elias jests as he spots Dominic taking a break from playing grease monkey on his bike - Cigarette routinely positioned in mouth and garage wide open so that snow had begun collecting on the entrance floor. This wing was probably his safehaven, too.

"You should leave him to it." Dominic takes a long drag before expelling two plumes from his nose.

"Yeah I know, I know. Just seems wrong to not try. I don't think he's going home for Christmas. Hasn't heard from his Uncle for a couple of years...Not sure why. Marius tells me that's nothing out of the ordinary. Still, doesn't hurt to remind him we're around."

"He knows we're around. If you and Monika make a fuss it'll probably backfire."

"You could be right. But hey, buzzing in somebody’s ear is better than letting them feel ignored. I wouldn't be half as fun if I wasn't annoying."

"...Are you sure 'fun' is the right word?" Dominic concealed his smirk behind another toke.

"Whaaatever. Have a good night Brunsmeier. And don't get too cold old man! I don't know how you have the place all opened up on days like this. I don't want to come back tomorrow morning and find you in cryostasis."

"Uhuh. Well, snow chains. Fitting new ones on the tires and have to put 'em to the test somehow. See you, Smartass."

23 December.

The air was cold and dry and it permeated indoors but the serenity of snow blanketing everything for miles upon miles outweighed the chill in his lungs. Even the sun couldn’t thaw the ice nor interfere with celebrants having their white Christmas. From the moment he'd woken up that morning he rushed to get stuck back into his work without so much as cranking up the radiators. No matter the climate, it wouldn't deter him from his endeavours, much like Winter itself. As he fine-tuned his latest creation Marius felt overcome with accomplishment and relief knowing he had the rest of the day to spare after hours of trial and error. Fingers weaved and arms raised he stretched up high, taking a moment to admire the fully customised apparatus begging to be used. Fishing his phone out of a denim pocket he checked the time and grabbed one of the gift boxes wrapped neatly with a lavender bow. Monika would always make a point of going home to celebrate with her family - he'd heard many stories about her mother's Sauerbraten - and was always the first to leave to ensure she'd catch her flight. Ergo, her turn came first. His soles crunched against the virgin snow as Marius made his way to the dormitories. He could've forgotten the clean scent of fresh air or the sheer brightness the day can bring after spending a majority of his time hunkered down at the workroom. Cutting it close, he was fortunate enough to cross paths with Monika, luggage in her wake while punching in a numberpass for the electronic gate. "Monika!" He called out, waving her down.

"Hm?" Immediately she turned on her heel - Perhaps he startled her, or it was the (pleasant) surprise of hearing that familiar voice in another place other than his station or dorm.

"Monika, I'm glad I could catch you. Here--" Offering the palm sized box it was clear to the both of them that neither knew exactly how to handle the situation without underlying befuddlement. "--Frohe Weihnachten." (Merry Christmas). Ah yes, he'd forgotten that part. He wasn't well-versed in the act of gift giving - not face to face, at least...

"Really? For me?"

"Of course it is. It's purple. I don't know anybody else's favourite colour."

"I'm a little speechless...! Thank you Marius, and Frohe Weihnachten. I got something for you too, so did Elias. You were too busy we didn't think to disturb you and thought we'd leave them on your desk. You're welcome to pick them up yourself beneath the tree Emmanuelle and Yumiko set up in the foyer." Something akin to a glorified 'Secret Santa' Harry suggested for Team Rainbow to build on their camaraderie but appealed little to Dominic.

"Oh, that was unnecessary, but I'm grateful. Then I'm obliged to thank you as well. I didn't expect anything - I just wanted to see what I could come up with. I hope you like it."

"No act of benevolence is unnecessary. I'm tempted to open this up right here and now, I'm very curious. I'm going to show restraint however and open it tomorrow. I'll shoot you a message afterwards, OK?" She unzipped her case and placed it delicately atop folded clothes. Whatever it was, it seemed fragile, and would need the padding. "You take care of yourself Marius. Tschüss!" She passed through the gate and left with a smile.

24 December.

With more confidence after yesterday's exchange next in line was either Elias or Dominic, whoever he bumped into first. Today was bitterly cold and much darker, grey clouds hanging overhead almost as thick as the snow. Still, it was welcomed by those who enjoyed the seasonal comforts of lounging around; Vastly preferable to these scorching Summers in recent years, to Marius' admittance. He could spy from beyond his work station window that Dominic had the garage locked up early and was now dumping fodder to feed one of his burn barrel fires. To Marius, this had grown synonymous with Winter, and was a good way to gauge the severity of the weather - Dominic explained to him that it became habit from his undercover days, and was a quick & easy disposal method of...well, anything that could burn. Which sounded vaguely ominous with the way he put it, and there was no doubt in his mind that it absolutely was ominous. But that was then. He would ponder though, what his fellow operative saw in those flames. If he thought of an array of things and memories like a haunting myriad or maybe he just saw nothing more than a warming fire and burning magazines. It was hardly worth asking either, because he was scarcely linear, and seemed to quietly take pleasure in keeping people on their toes. An enigma for sure. They both were. Joining Dominic's side he could feel heat from the fire and the barrel itself as it raged on between them.

"You've been out here a while?" "An hour, maybe less." "Can't be too good for you. It's cold & flu season. If you're going to see your nephews and nieces, that's not wise." "I've dealt with worse." "Yes, that's true, I'm sure your lungs appreciate your pack-a-day fitness ritual." "If I smoked a pack a day, BPOL would give me the chop faster than any bad habits could on my life expectancy. Besides, I can still outrun you. Did you come here to give me health advice or was there something else?" "I know you well enough to know that giving you advice often goes unheeded." Much to my dismay. "So no, however--" He presents the red giftbox to Dominic, which he'd yet to acknowledge. Or he didn't care enough to ask. There's a visible confusion that reads in his otherwise stark expression - Like Monika's the day prior. Was it really so foreign for Marius to present his generosity this way? "Oh...?" "Open it, Dummkopf." Rather than muster some spur of the moment retort Dominic does as instructed. He settled the box in snow and crouched down to examine what awaited inside. "Pure silver electromagnetic rods. In a similar vein to an EMP device, rather, a preemptive attack on them and on your target. Think of them as an extension to your CEDs. Place them around in any formation you like to create an electromagnetic field; They will go live the moment your CEDs do. I've included a remote for functionality and to check that they're all within range of each other. The frequencies will be dizzying for enemy weaponry and at the touch of a button, shock anybody standing within the field's radius." Astounded, Dominic can only look down in disbelief at the device in his hands. It's one thing to fix up an old motorcycle, or even a car, but something of this calibre was truly belonging to a prodigious acumen. And that prodigy is Marius Streicher. "Oh, there's also armbands and a 'plate' you fit to the bottom of your footwear to absorb static and safeguard you from being on the receiving end of the electrogrid. That part should be a familiar concept." "..." "Well?" "I don't know how the hell you come up with this shit, but it's incredible." "Mmhmm. Of course it is, I made it. Brave of you to finally admit that." "Don't make me regret showing some gratitude. I mean it. Is this what you've been busying yourself with the whole month?" "Yeah, calculating pulse waveforms took more work than Monika's and Elias' upgrades, I readily accepted the challenge though." "You went to the trouble of making something for them too huh. Crazy." "I did yes. Monika's was no sweat. I pulled up the files on her RED Mk III and tweaked a few things. Utilising the same technology I fitted a lens-like screen to a headpiece, so the intel she needs is always in view, and her handling of weapons isn't compromised. I think she'll appreciate the purple tint I used for the lens. That, and it can also be used for her spelunking - The new and improved Spectre can see beyond solid walls several metres thick, and it can detect hollow spaces like tunnels. If she removes the chip and slots it into the drone I made for her - I'll reveal that part to her once she's back - she can apply the Spectre to airborne recon in the same way as the lens itself." "Now, you're showing off. She's going to use and abuse that thing every chance she gets." "Good. Then I won't have made it for nothing." "What about Elias, what did you give him?" "I haven't given him his yet which works out nicely." "I'm all ears, Brainiac." "Interesting moniker. Elias gets a conal radius motion & thermal detector that bolsters his ballistic shield. This will give him an increase in tactical advantage, by alerting him to whoever is in his vicinity. If there's an obstruction or he loses sight of the enemy he can find them with ease and make his move. Like Monika's, his can mimic the technology he's accustomed to and can also be detached and used with the specialised drone made for him. He'll be able to temporarily blind at range, or cause distraction, meaning if he keeps his wits about him he'll manage to play a part from long distances." Dominic spied something else in the box as Marius gave his run down on each of the devices. Brow furrowed he picks it up and examines it closely, unable to crack what purpose it served. "Hm. And this?" "That, is a personal touch. Call it whimsical but I think you'll like it. His drone is also yours." Shooting the engineer a bewildered glance Dominic held the second remote in hand, waiting expectantly to understand its significance and what exactly made it so 'whimsical'. "I had trouble coming up with a unique quality for each of you. You're both irreverent in your sense of humour, so I decided to play on that. Elias' drone also has a compartment where something, such as a flashbang for example, can be stored and dropped at command. I'll tell him about that. What I won't tell him however is that you have full access to the drone with that control you're holding. I'll leave it to your imagination to invent shenanigans of your own design. It ought to appease your prankster inclinations," Marius smiled knowingly, but only just - A sliver of the pride gathering in his center. Dominic's was blatant and devilish; Cogs turning in his mind already. But moreso this was a gift with meaning, and understanding to a level that excelled clinical intelligence. He had captured all three of them as operatives and as people, as friends, in the best way he knew how. Each gadget was far from mere machinery. Like polaroids immortalising their merits on the field and in life. "Don't expect to hear this out of me again anytime soon but you've outdone yourself." "Hah! It's worth the effort just to wring sincerity out of you, you ornery bastard." "Yeah, yeah, pot calling the kettle black. I know you're not a drinker but come on, show me how to use this thing over a pint - and bring the drone. I want to get Elias back for all his gaudy Christmas music in the dorms. I considered smothering him with his pillow, but this will suffice." He sneered, amused by his own facetiousness. "I know you don't have anything else planned so I'm not giving you much of a choice." After placing everything back in its box Dominic stood up to give his friend a gracious pat on the back. Marius noticed a glint in his eye he hadn't been privy to before - one unlike the dispassion that most would consider default to 'Bandit' - perhaps they were both seeing each other in a different light. An aspect they kept tucked away, save for rare junctures such as these. "Fine. I'll agree, considering the occasion. Might as well get into the spirit of things a little. Frohe Weihnachten, Dominic." "Frohe Weihnachten."

[phantombs]

ebonyforged​:

     “Come on, give both of us some credit. You, for being memorable, and me, for having the manners to remember the name of someone who found me covered in blood.” It would be easy to lose it among the adrenaline, after all. Her eyes narrow and she taps her pointer finger on his hand through a slow nod, like he has a point. “You know what? Most of the time I don’t know why I keep going back either,” And no one, even the demons in her life, ever bothers to ask. They love to judge her for being unhinged enough to frequent a place that they avoid like the plague, but asking her why would require them to see things her way, and many of them aren’t very good at that. Then there are those that despise the thought of leaving Limbo, too. “but I do it without even really thinking about it. Sometimes I don’t, and it just pulls me in anyway. If I did do something specific to warrant all that, then I sure don’t remember it.”

     Ebony watches the bartender. Some things feel familiar no matter the surroundings. “You’re right, I am.” she easily agrees, then struggles to connect their perceptions. Finding things inside Limbo that haven’t died once already is a rarity, that remains true, but its veil offers itself as a looking glass. Not everything worth seeing from inside it is actually there. “I do see things in living people, but they’re not always to do with death. They can be secrets, desires, or fears. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. They definitely don’t see me, so,” Her eyes wander back to Cường from where they stuck to and followed the bartender. By feeling alone, she can tell the serious look on her face likely doesn’t suit her. “I think we each see our own things, but some of them overlap, and I don’t see them once I leave Limbo.” So he has it objectively worse, doesn’t he?

     Shaking her head, Ebony takes her hand away to pick up another vegetable and hold it up to Cường’s lips. “Sorry, I made things kind of gloomy with my questions. You didn’t bring me here for that, did you? I’d prefer you to cut loose, instead.”

"Funny. Some people would say you’ve got it confused. You get credit because you’re memorable, they’d tell me. And me, for remembering your name at all.” Fair enough. Somewhere near them, a cramped table of middle-aged men, faces weathered and sun-worn, clatter their beers in a hearty toast. That night with the blood and the thundering gunshots... Yet, it's her name that clings to his memory like rot. Ebony, she’d told him, the girl who wades in Limbo! Ebony, the reaper, who little knows why. Huh. What-- “A mystery,” Cường quietly drawls, mind wandering. He pauses. To be beckoned by such a godless voidscape... They call her unhinged, sure, but demented, too. Yet: “You want to know what I’d guess, though? To start with, you don’t go in to save anyone. Rescue them. I doubt very much that you’d call yourself the hero--” but! “--but I doubt more, to be honest, that you’re the bad guy. Evil.” Monstrous.

Well, how new. Or, hell, maybe it isn't all that refreshing to be looked at with such a keen gleam of doubt, but to dawdle on this possibly befuddling novelty? No one, not a soul, is drunk enough for that. Besides, more sobering than the full laughter of every insomniac barhopper, there’s other things worth extensively parsing. Ebony looks to him. She tells him what she sees, and she makes it sound brighter, far luckier, so full. Cường stares lamely. She eyes the bartender. “Our worlds are different then,” he begins, “but I still think we see more than enough.” True. He makes a sound, something caught on half a laugh, but it’s Cường, stoic Cường, and it most likely isn’t. “Don’t talk like that, like you feel bad for me or something. You see terrible things like I see terrible things, but just like you, I see good, too. And you know what? I don’t have to be dreaming to see that. Look at me. You’re happy I invited you for drinks, aren’t you?”

The somber air breaks. Hopefully. Cường blinks seeing the pickled radish offered, and without a care in the world, eats it easily. Good. He orders some eggs to pair and rolls his shoulders. “I am cutting loose, and I don't blame you. Getting drunk makes your lips loose, they say. I just thought you said you weren’t a lightweight. That's why I’m worried you won’t keep up with me.”

[ranma-rewatch]

Episode 5-Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Hey there, hope you’re doing well, whenever/wherever you’re reading this. We’re on the fifth episode of the Ranma Rewatch, and I just realized that you can pretty clearly delineate the last three episodes into one arc, all about introducing Kuno. This episode and the next few, judging by the title, look like they’ll be focusing on Dr. Tofu and Akane’s crush on him. I...really cannot recall a lot about these episodes, so it’ll be interesting to look at them with a fresh perspective. See you all again in a second, once I’ve finished watching the episode!

Wow, uh...I am finding my memories of this show are definitely blurred in ways I hadn’t expected. Or rather, when I saw it as a younger person, I didn’t notice the same things I’m noticing now.

The episode starts with Ranma brooding over how often Akane gets angry and violent at him, which ties into Akane training in the dojo with her dad. For a second, she remembers Ranma’s rude comments from the day before, and the anger makes her hit her dad so hard he’s left pretty hurt. Kasumi, the eldest of the Tendo siblings, tends to his injury, but pleads with Akane to reign in her violent tendencies, even if the exact specifics of that promise change from the Sub to the Dub.

Later, Kasumi sends Akane out to get meat for dinner, at the same time Ranma is brooding in the same area. They run into each other, and Ranma provokes Akane so much that, even after trying to restrain herself to Kasumi’s promise, she gives up and clobbers Ranma so badly she has to take him to a doctor. Specifically, Doctor Tofu.

This is actually the good doctor’s first time seeing Ranma as his uncursed form, so they’re formally introduced. Tofu reasons out that Akane is responsible for the extensive damages, looking serious...only to happily point out that the injuries make that clear, since the way she fights is so distinctive. To Ranma’s surprise, Akane is in a hurry to leave once Ranma is okay, and before they go Tofu tries to tell Ranma that Akane’s actually a pretty nice person, which Ranma is skeptical of.

Seemingly to prove his point, Tofu hit a pressure point on Ranma’s back just before they left, so that halfway home his legs would go out. Despite the fact they’d just been arguing, Akane immediately offers to carry Ranma home, something he only accepts after being splashed with water, thanks to his pride as a man. It’s there, being carried piggyback style, that he considers whether Tofu may have been right after all, but just isn’t sure.

This whole time, their dads have been trying to think of some way to make them get along, since things are only getting worse between them, but it seems they don’t have any ideas. At breakfast the next day, Kasumi asks Akane if she can take a book she’d been borrowing from Dr. Tofu back to him, only for Akane to refuse. When Ranma questions why she’d do that, about to spill the beans on her crush, Akane hurries to school with Ranma in toe, not even noticing that Ranma gets splashed as they sprint down the street.

Once there, she realizes the curse has activated as she starts chastising Ranma for what he did, namely by opening up Ranma’s shirt...revealing his breasts in front of all the guys who usually fight Akane. Not that they seem to notice. They’re not about to fight Akane anymore, telling her that they’ve decided to honor her engagement to Ranma, since he beat Kuno, their best fighter and biggest pervert.

Not that Kuno himself is going to honor that agreement, even if he’s still covered in bandages from all the hits Ranma got on him, and can barely seem to stand. But when he notices Ranma there in his cursed form, he goes from toting the virtues of Akane to his red-headed love in seconds. Ranma is annoyed, and that only gets worse when Akane pretends to support the two getting together, in the hopes that maybe that would maybe get Kuno to leave her alone. For a few seconds, Kuno is struck with indecision...only to once again reiterate that he’s in love with both of them.

During gym, a few guys in Ranma’s class hassle him over his luck in being engaged to Akane, and needle him over whether they’ve ‘done anything’ yet. Just when he’s about to mention that Akane already loves someone else, she hits a softball right in his face, though it’s unclear whether this was on purpose or not.

This means another trip to Tofu’s clinic, though this time they run into his newly hired assistant: Ranma’s dad in his panda form. Tofu laughs to hear that this panda is apparently Ranma’s dad, but it’s unclear if he actually believes that or not. Ranma is getting more and more curious about why it seems like Akane is trying to avoid the person he knows she likes, when the phone rings. Akane answers and talks to that person, before finally telling Ranma that Dr. Tofu already has someone he’s in love with, and that woman is one the way to the clinic, that’s who Akane had talked to on the phone. After a fake out, it’s made clear from how the scene cuts to her that the woman Akane’s talking about is Kasumi.

There are a few things this episode has really brought to mind for me. To start with what I alluded to earlier: when I have thought about Ranma 1/2, for the longest time, I’ve thought of it as a very episodic storyline. Throughout it’s very, very long run, I mostly remembered it being unrelated little stories, aside from the small arcs that populated the various seasons, cropping up from time to time. I do remember enough specific episodes to come that I do know there are one-off episodes later on.

But as I look at the five episodes I’ve covered so far, I’m kind of staggered by the continuity. Each episode flows seamlessly from the last, even as we’ve kind of moved on from an arc about Kuno to one about Akane and Dr. Tofu. Now, whether this is something the show will outgrow with time, as it drifts farther and farther from the manga, isn’t really something I know for sure, so it’s a thing I’ll have to keep an eye on.

So much of this episode is devoted to Ranma and others thinking about his relationship to Akane. He’s clearly very skeptical about any idea that they might work out as a couple, already seeing the rough ways they tend to hit each other where it hurts when they bicker. Still, there are other moments where he can clearly see her better traits, such as when she immediately moves to help him when his legs fail him.

In that same vein, I was very much befuddled at first when Akane just opened Ranma’s shirt to check he really was in his more feminine body. Like, that just seemed out of character for her, but then I realized a better way to read that. Akane has no problems doing something like that because she considers Ranma a guy, for better or worse, regardless of what he looks like at the time. Unlike so many characters, who tend to treat Ranma differently depending on if he’s in his cursed form or not, Akane always sees him as Ranma. Here, that made things awkward, but on the whole it’s kind of a big plus from her. She validates Ranma for who he really is, in that way.

Oh, back when I was recapping things, I mentioned a couple of guys hanging out with Ranma at school. Well, fun fact, those are Hiroshi and Daisuke, and I think this is their first appearance in the anime. They become Ranma’s default two friends at school, and later on Akane will get her own similar pair of friends to match. If you’re not paying attention, they might seem like extras, but Hiroshi and Daisuke actually have consistent designs and personalities, which I find pretty neat.

This week, for the character spotlight, I thought I should round out the Tendo siblings with the oldest, Kasumi. After all, she’s getting more attention in the plot right now, and there really aren’t a lot of characters worth focusing on introduced yet.

Now, as best as I can tell, her voice actresses in the original Japanese and the English dub are doing the same kind of thing. Namely, a very sweet, if restrained, kind of performance. In English, she was played by Willow Johnson, another fairly minor Canadian voice actress who doesn’t seem to have done a lot of work recently, though she is also Kikyo from the Inuyasha dub. In a strange coincidence, she also played Lalah Sune in Mobile Suit Gundam, which I’m going through for the first time right now, and her character literally was just introduced a few episodes ago, so that’s cool. Her Japanese voice actress seems to be more well known and well regarded, Kikuko Inoue. She’s done a ton of roles, including more recent work. She’s even worked for Japanese dubs of American series, such as playing Blue Diamond from Steven Universe. And, like I said last week, she was a member of DoCo.

Of the three Tendo sisters, she’s definitely the one that’s gotten the least attention and development so far. Sadly, I’d say that’s also generally true throughout the entire series, as far as I can recall. Akane is one of the protagonists, after all, and Nabiki is a great source of conflict. In contrast, Kasumi is mostly...there.

That said, even if she isn’t the most well developed character, she’s at least clearly defined. It’s obvious already that she’s the one running the house, seemingly with more authority than even her father. She acts more like a mom than a sister most of the time, which from personal experience is definitely a thing that happens with oldest sisters sometimes, even without dead moms in the picture.

Kasumi cooks their meals, cleans their house, and just seems to be the one making sure everything gets done. She’s also very kind and accommodating, and comedically her strength is her nonplussed reactions to the madness going on around her. Kasumi is nearly always unphased by things like houseguests sparring in the yard. The exception did appear in this episode, however. When her father was injured, she did try to lay down the law on Akane, even bringing up their dead mom to try and make clear how serious this was.

That’s...really all there is I can say about Kasumi, at least so far. I can really only think of one really interesting thing they ever did with her character, and I’m sure other fans know exactly what I’m talking about.

Okay, so, what did I really think of this episode? On the whole, I’d say it was fairly strong. I appreciated seeing Ranma really thinking stuff over a little bit, and that scene with him and Akane at night was very cute. That said, I also do kind of find this Tofu plot a bit boring, since he as a character hasn’t really done a lot for me. So, in the end, I’d say this episode is middle of the pack.

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

But what will I think of the second (and only other) part to this small arc? We’ll see next week with the sixth episode, “Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know”. Man...I really do love these kinds of episode titles. See you then!

[ballouheys]

hey there , i’m libby ( or any of the other many nicknames that come w being named elizabeth ... we’re all pals here . call me what you want to ) and i just spent way too much time trying to write this intro . but this is way to long and way too all over the place ... .. so hit that little like button and i’ll slip n slide into your dms ( i’ll probably slip n slide into ur dms even if you don’t , what can i say ? i’m shameless  ) to give you the low low on gigi so you don’t have to read this mess of an intro rip :/

𝐨𝐨𝟏. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒  .

𝐟𝐮����𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: gentry thylane ballouhey . 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬: gigi ,gen . 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡: june 26 . 𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧: cancer . 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞: los angeles , california . 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧: los angeles , california . 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: bisexual ╱ biromantic . 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬: fluent in english and french . literate in spanish , but is unable to properly articulate the language despite several years of studies . 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬: a sloppily drawn heart on the side of her right middle finger, a winking and now faded smiley face on the tip of her left index finger, but out of all the unfortunate markings, the most unfortunate of them all was her own signature in girlish print across the inside of her foot. or perhaps the license plate of her first car ( that she had driven through their fence four months after it had been gifted to her )  beneath her left breast. all of which had been inked into her skin by friends, all of which seemed like a much better idea when drunk . 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: three in tight succession on each earlobe . 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: notes penned in red ink , each individual i dotted with its own tiny heart , scuffed and sullied balenciaga sneakers and ruffled ankle high socks , the cacophonous clink of bulky anklets against one another with each passing step , applying a full face of makeup only to remove it all minutes later , a far too large collection of scrunchies varying in pattern and texture lining the top drawer of her bedside table , a plethora of practiced accents , mascara and tears leaking down the swell of freckled cheeks as the credits to a romantic comedy she could quote word for word begin to roll , long bubble baths in a claw foot tub with a streetcar named desire playing on repeat in another room , sundays spent tangled up in an array of silken bed linens , a collection of shoes that could rival even carrie bradshaw’s , a signature practiced to perfection , hearts varying in size doodled on the palm of her hand , along the underside of her arm , romanticized idealizations , wearing her finest lingerie beneath sweatpants and the hacked hem of t-shirts she cropped herself , strands of hair sticking to overly glossed lips , unsmoked and pink ringed cigarette stubs dropped into an emptied flute of champagne , the wrong number scrawled on a napkin in pink ink to match the stain of puckered lips , unsubtle flirations , a personality akin to bubbling champagne , kisses planted anywhere but on the mouth , meaningful conversations with a stranger , and long nights spent searching for love in all the wrong places .

𝐨𝐨𝟐. 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇

perhaps the one thing worse than a charmed childhood spoiling with years passed, was a childhood that had been spoiled from the very start. and poor gentry ballouhey had been brought into this world swaddled in cotton and blushing bright pink, held loose within the arms of a mother who didn’t quite want her, as her father stared with disdain at the second little girl he hadn’t quite planned on having. the family of three had already been perfect, she was nothing more than a blemish, a mistake, a pretty, little bandaid doused in alcohol and placed atop a gaping wound ( utterly useless and entirely too painful ). yes, she had been born into the quintessential white-picket fence family, all bright and toothy grins ( perfectly straight, perfectly white ), in their matching white tennis outfits as their matching white poodles gallivanted across the perfectly manicured lawn, but no childhood could be charmed when one spent the entirety of it unloved.

the ballouhey’s outcast, conceived amongst a dreamlike haze of judgement clouded by a bottle of dom perignon shared beneath starlit parisian skies, had been burdened with the expectations to conform when her entire existence stood in stark contrast to their careful ideals. even her conception had been rash and unexpected, much unlike her sister who had been dreamt of from the very moment their parents had married, carefully crafted in a lab after several failed attempts. meryl was wanted, a charming girl who lived a charmed life, and gentry? well, she simply was not. the blonde and bubbling stain on an otherwise perfect family portrait, the odd duckling among long-necked and elegant swans, gentry had felt forced to force her own self into an almost unsettling obedience. another failed attempt to please, to garner but a mere fraction of the attention marlon and madeleine ballouhey smothered their first-born in.

she was a true oddity, in more ways than one. softness epitomized, all freckles and full cheeks, doe-eyes and blurred edges nestled several steps to the left of her sharp-eyed and sharp-lined family members. an airy spring breeze in comparison to her elder sister’s chilled winter evening. the littlest ballouhey that left all spectators befuddled for she was all her father with a little something else. yet despite marlon and madeleine’s best efforts to keep their youngest tucked away from the public eye by sending her to the most exclusive and private catholic schools, and leaving her at home with the nannies while the rest of the family attended awards shows ( claiming it was simply because she was too young to attend ), gentry was sought out by one of her father’s friends to star in a film at the age of fourteen. the first time she had ever been chosen before meryl, her short lived claim to fame. perhaps an acting career wasn’t truly her calling, but the adoration she had received was.

the attention she received in the years following her debut in the film industry, turned the girl desperate for love into a girl even more hungry for adoration. she began to spent her days striving for perfection to draw her parents coveted attention ( the only thing they had ever left her wanting for ) back to herself. each straight a report card had been put up on the fridge only to go unnoticed, the nanny chauffeured her to all her extracurricular activities and sat in her parents place for all her dance recitals. and when she told her father about her time spent volunteering at the animal shelter she’d been met with a dismissive nod and a clap on the shoulder that was meant to be congratulatory as he left in a hurry to tend to something on set.  her parents immersed themselves in their work, in meryl, and gentry was pushed off to the side for the nannies to deal with even after she was well into her teens.

yet while she began to achieve the feigned perfection her family had always seemed to possess, their decline sputtered to life. at least within their home. she can still remember mornings spent splayed out on her plush queen-sized bed with her romantic comedies to drown out the noise , hair a mess and a pressed private school uniform on - all pink on pink on pink ( her pink cigarettes tucked beneath a pillow, mother’s faux lashes accentuating eyes made vacant by her pink and white pills, and the collar of daddy’s scotch soaked dress shirt stained by pillow lips painted an unfamiliar shade of pink ) as she used the edge of a polished finger to swipe the errant tear that had leaked from a trained tear duct, glossed lips once, twice, thrice before slipping out of their house ( it felt both all too large and far too small for the four of them ) unnoticed by her quarreling parents, glared at by her sister. others could see right through the act, witnessed the slammed doors rattling painting right off the walls, heard the boozy and biting insults, the tumblers hurled, scotch sloshing, ice clattering, glass shattering, and she knew that they knew. but when looks of pity, or rather discomfort, passed across their faces she’d simply smile that deep-dimpled barbie doll beam, and turn the television playing rom coms on repeat up several notches. love gone terribly awry stifled by the picturesque, perhaps that’s where it had come from … her love for love, or more specifically yearning and romance as depicted on the silver screen, when she had been raised in an environment so frosty it should have left her with a block of ice in place of her childish and sputtering heart .

𝐨𝐨𝟑. 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

not unlike her parents she loved obsessed in a way that exhausted ( far too much , far too fast ) . ashton had inherited her mother’s insecurities ,  strung her jealousy in a choke around her throat like an emerald necklace , and her father’s flighty heart that sputtered to life for all the wrong souls . it was no suprise that the two who had given new meaning to the term hopeless romantic would spawn a lovely daughter just as unlucky , if not more so , in love . but their hard , cold genes had been muddled together , creating something much worse . she loves love , or rather suffocating adoration , and will latch on to just about anyone who makes her feel a little less hollow . while gentry  is what one would deem a movie buff, it would be difficult for someone to name a movie that she hasn’t seen at least once, she loves to read just as much. tucked away in the valley as her father traveled the world to attend award shows and charity galas, there was very little to do. so she often found herself flipping through novels as she tanned alongside the pool, always the odd one out as her friends gossiped about the boys from their brother school and flipped through gossip rags. 

gentry  has an extensive vocabulary, contrary to what most might think. its a product of her extensive reading and film viewing, but she always seems to get a weird glance when she drops a big word into her sentence littered with valley girl lingo.

while she certainly isn’t a ditz, she doesn’t necessarily dispute the assumption most people make when they glimpse the spacey look that her features take to a bit too often.  perhaps she likes being underestimated, but she doesn’t typically do much to prove those who do underestimate her wrong. 

gentry  loves nothing more than spending all day in her pink silk pajamas, buried beneath sheets and duvet with her persian cat, holly golightly ( dubbed holly ) as she watches a rom-com she’s already seen at least ten times. she isn’t lazy per se, she just much prefers a night in with a bottle of champagne and her box of tissues ( if she’s planning on watching 13 going on 30 she has to be prepared for a few leaked tears ) to a night out. 

gentry is almost a bastardized version of cher horowitz, plucked right from the screen and loosely translated to fit reality. she’s a bit selfish and undeniably herself, yet yearns for, needs if one were to be dramatic, admiration. any semblance of attention that strokes her large ego and keeps her confidence from wavering a much appreciated gesture. but despite being far too self absorbed for her own good, she gives off some guise of selflessness - though her ample acts of kindness always tend to benefit her in return. and while she’s often concerned with how people perceive her, desperately wanting for everyone to find her desirable, she’s a bit too idealistic, a bit too stubborn to simply settle for people. with a collection of romance novels and romantic comedies still lining the shelves of her room that hadn’t change much since girlhood, it’s no secret that she has an insatiable love for love.

[aka-efirg]

tainted marks

several days after chuuya got out of edgar's book, dazai breaks into his apartment

trigger: implied/referenced self-harm

ao3

Various objects were floating inside the apartment, a faint red glowing around them. With each whimper, the objects seemed to be more and more crushed, until some of them were totally squashed. And with each abrupt movement, the objects were moved around. But when the sound of a window opening could be heard, all the objects stilled briefly before everything – going from the spoon floating in the apartment to the chair in the bar 900 meters further away – trembled.

The tremor stopped only when Chuuya opened his eyes, waking up from what he was dreaming about. Though, he didn’t get the time to think about it because of the presence he could feel inside his apartment. Despite his mind still befuddled by sleep, he knew who it was. Since there was only one person crazy – or suicidal – enough to break into a Mafia executive’s apartment. So he blinked several times to hopefully get rid of the sleepiness. Dealing with Dazai while tired was just a disaster bound to happen.

He sighed and stood up, slightly wincing in discomfort. And grumbled internally because he was pretty sure Dazai now knew he was awake. Well then, best to go to confront the demon. He didn’t bother to make himself more presentable and just headed toward the living room. And as expected, Dazai was there, standing in the middle of the room and looking around at all the objects which were now lying on the floor. He turned his head when he sensed he wasn’t alone anymore.

Chuuya was about to gently ask him what he was doing here when he spotted several dark stains on the other’s clothes. And considering who he was facing, it wasn’t hard to deduce what they were. So instead of yelling, he switched the lights on, taking pleasure in the barely noticeable but still present wince appearing on Dazai’s face. The light provided him the confirmation the stains were indeed blood. He scowled when he took the other’s general appearance before sighing. He really didn’t have the energy to deal with his ex-partner.

“What the fuck happened to you?” He couldn’t help but say aloud. Before Dazai could answer – which would have probably angered him –, he added. “Come on asshole.” And without waiting for the other to talk, he turned around, back to his room. He felt relief when he heard the brown following him. Which made him frown. Since when Dazai was obedient like that?

Once in the room, he looked back at Dazai who was still silent. A little too silent for it to be comfortable. A silent Dazai rarely suggested something good. And fuck, wasn’t he too tired and out of it to deal with that.

“Now, sit the fuck down and strip!”

He pointed at his bed before heading toward his closet to take out a box and going back to the bed. Fortunately, Dazai was already seated, his clothes removed. And now, Chuuya could clearly see the stains of blood, contrasting with the white bandages. Without saying anything, he climbed on the bed and placed himself behind the detective.

Carefully, he started undoing the bandages and winced at the too familiar gestures. When all the bandages were undone, with Dazai having say no word yet, he barely looked at all the faded marks on the back, preferring to focus on the newest addition.

The wound was still fresh and looked inflamed. Probably because the stupid asshole didn’t take care of it correctly. And also. “When was the last time you changed your bandages ? They’re dirty as fuck. You know what, don’t answer, I don’t care.” Which he knew Dazai knew it was a lie. He wouldn’t be changing them if he truly didn’t care. But luckily the brown didn’t call him out.

He took out a gauze from the box and soaked it with disinfectant before applying it on the wound, followed by medicated cream. Then he got off the bed and knelt down before Dazai. The wound there was in the same state as the one on his back. He repeated his actions.

Once this was taken care of, he focused on the arms. These wounds were so familiar he wanted to scream. The red lines were taunting him. Dancing with white faint lines. Without uttering a word, he stood up and went to the bathroom, dampening a cloth, and came back to the bedroom. He washed the blood, allowing him to access the extent of the damage. The cuts thankfully weren’t too deep and would heal quickly. He then started cleaning them as well.

Silence was beginning to be unnerved and Dazai hadn’t spoken yet. Not a word. Not a sound. Nothing. He had just obediently followed Chuuya’s orders. Almost like a dog. And if Chuuya was in the mood, he would have laughed at the irony. But right now, his mind was too far away and he was working on autopilot. Clean. Access. Disinfect. Bandage. Again for the other arm. And once finished, put new bandages. Wrap it tightly – but not too much – around the stomach. Then the chest. The shoulders. The chest again. And the neck.

He was now back on the bed, behind Dazai. And while he was tidying the stuff back into the box, he felt two lanky arms closing around him before being pressed against a familiar chest. He must have been more out than he thought because his first instinct wasn’t punching, but snuggling. When he realized what he was doing, he froze. Which didn’t seem to deter his ex-partner since he just tightened his grip. And fucking nuzzled his nose against his neck, just below his choker. Soon he felt legs resting around his hips, trapping him fully into Dazai’s grasp.

For several minutes, none of them moved. For a moment Chuuya almost forgot who they were now and was practically back when they were teenagers and they would spend the night, snuggled against each other. Or after a particularly difficult mission. Moments like those hadn’t been very commun but Chuuya would lie if he said he didn’t miss them.

He jolted from his thoughts when he felt a light kiss on his neck. And another on his jaw. Looked like Dazai was coming back from where he’d lost himself. Butterfly kisses kept appearing on his skin and he was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. But at the same time, he couldn’t move away. After the days passed in the book, without nothing to anchor him, he needed this contact. Dazai had always been able to ground him, just as much as he had been able to ground Dazai when the latter was spiraling down.

The more kisses there were, the more difficult he found it to breathe but the more human he started feeling again. And wasn’t this the most beautiful irony. No Longer Human washing over him, again and again, was what allowed him to reconnect with his human side. He vaguely wondered if Dazai was aware of it. He probably was. But then again, for all the genius he was, sometimes Dazai was unable to see what was right in front of him.

When it was starting to feel too much, he tried to extricate himself but Dazai tightened his members around him with enough strength it started hurting. Light kisses became more teethy. It was as if Dazai was trying to consume him. He was completely trapped. Bruising grasp. Biting kisses. And part of him was refusing to do anything to get away. He closed his eyes, an attempt to block what was happening. He could feel tears building behind his lids due to the excess of sensations, of emotions… of everything.

“Neh Chuuya, what were you dreaming about?”

Dazai’s voice was soft and barely audible, even with his mouth so close to his ear. Chuuya opened his eyes and tried to turn his head to look at the brown but his position made it impossible for him to do so. The kisses had stopped and he could feel Dazai’s breathing brushing against his sensitive skin. He was so focused on that he nearly forgot the question. Dazai’s first words since coming and it was no taunt or anything similar.

“Nothing.”

“Chibi shouldn’t lie, it would be no good for his height. And you obviously dreamed about something. You created a quake for one kilometer around. And if it was because you were angry, there would have been more damage. Plus there are lots of broken and crushed things in your living room – and probably in the other rooms –. I know things like that happen when you’re dreaming.”

“Stop talking.”

One kiss just above the choker. “I thought Chibi wanted me to talk.” Teeth on his lob and Chuuya just went limp in Dazai’s arms.

“Why are you here?” He asked tiredly. As much he had needed and wanted the contact, he wasn’t ready for dealing with his ex-partner. He didn’t even have the force to be properly angry.

“I asked first.”

“What are you ? A child?” He felt more than he saw Dazai opening his mouth. “One word about my height and say goodbye to your nose.” Faint laugh tickled against his skin, sending shivers across his body. “And I’ve answered.”

“Not really no.”

And the situation was so familiar it was uncomfortable. But at the same time, it was so familiar it was comfortable.

“You remember what my first memory is?” He had to wait several seconds before feeling a weak nod. “Nothing. No existence. No sensation. No emotion. Barely aware. It’s what I was dreaming about. Being nothing more than a concept, existing without existing. Do you know how terrifying it is to be reminded of something like that?”

“I can imagine.” And if that didn’t make it worse.

“So why did you do this to me?” He felt Dazai tense, his grip tighter around him. Probably hurting his arms by doing so. “You know I need my ability. You know how much my own power takes a toll on me. How I need my ability so I can bear it. And yet, your plan involved sending me in a world where there are no abilities.” It was getting harder and harder to breathe. And he couldn’t figure out if it was because of his own growing anxiety and the arms around him squeezing him more and more. Yet he couldn’t stop talking. “The two first days had been fine. But the more time I spent without my ability to anchor me, the more everything became numb. At a point I was so desperate to escape that I started just killing. I mean, it was fifty-fifty chance of the character being a killer. Which, you guessed, did not help at all. If I had passed one day more inside this fucking book, I would have been back to square one. Only existing to kill and destroy. Even now, I have to fight the fucking instinct to destroy everything around me.”

“Chuuya…”

“When I came out of the book, I was so close to do it. And I’m not sure it would have been deliberately. It was just… so overwhelming. Barely hanging on my humanity one moment, and the next, having all this power ready to strike if I let it. Is it something you can imagine?”

No answer. Typical. Trust Dazai to not say a word when it was the most inconvenient. “You know what? Forget about it. It’s not like you care anyway.” The only reaction he got was a sharp inhale. Once again, he went to extirpate himself but like the other times, something stopped him. This time it was a hand pressed against his stomach. Under his shirt. Anger engulfed him for one second before remembering one detail.

“Why are you wearing bandages?”

Fuck . That was probably the one thing he didn’t want Dazai to know about. But, of course, with everything that was happening, he had forgotten. Truly he hadn’t even thought it would have been an issue. Yet this was Dazai he was talking about. So naturally it did become an issue. He snapped. “None of your business.”

“Are you trying to copy me?”

“Why the fuck would I do that? Who in their right mind would want to look like a freaking mummy?”

“Yet Chuuya has bandages around his stomach – and probably his chest too –. So if not for the aesthetic, why?”

“Like I said, none of your business.”

The hand pressed harder. “You’re not hurt.”

“Just leave it alone, asshole!” He started thrashing around, attempting to get out. But his efforts seemed vain as the ex-mafioso only curled around him even more. He didn’t understand. Physically he was stronger than the brown.Who was also hurt. And Chuuya could hear the faint whimpers of pain each time his elbows connected with the other’s ribs. Yet Dazai managed to hold on. Even when he almost headbutted him in his nose. Twice.

Several minutes passed until Dazai seemed to get bored. His hand, previously put around the redhead’s torso, moved toward his neck before encircling it without hesitation and applying enough pressure for it to be quite uncomfortable but not enough to hurt. And just like that the anger that had taken over Chuuya for the last minutes disappeared. His arms went limp, resting on the other’s legs, and he slumped into Dazai’s chest, his head slightly backward exposing his throat.

Without removing his hand, Dazai brought the smaller’s head on his shoulder, his other hand still secured around the bandaged stomach. He waited a moment for Chuuya to calm down. Once he was sure he wouldn’t attack him, he released his grip on the neck and couldn’t resist hooking two fingers under the choker and pulling a little. His action earned him a light groan.

Chuckling he removed his fingers to instead grab the hem of the other’s pyjama top. He started to remove it, taking his time to let the redhead stop him if he wanted. Then he discarded the cloth next to him. Now he could plainly see the smaller’s back wrapped in white bandages. Seeing how Chuuya was tensed, he put his hands on his shoulders and started rubbing his thumbs. He could feel him stiffening a little more before the muscles began relaxing. He kept going until the redhead was almost pliant under his hands.

Slowly he reached the knot securing the bandages and loosened it. He halted his movements and started undoing the white stripes when he got no complaint. The gestures were methodical, without hesitation. Almost reassuring. As soon as he caught sight of bits of skin, he frowned. Maybe it was the lack of light or the tiredness but the skin looked darker than it should have been.

He barely managed to prevent making any noise in surprise and could only gape at the view in front of him. Bruise-like marks were marring his back and probably his chest as well. He could see lines tracing patterns on the fair skin. Familiar patterns. Maybe a little too much. He brought his hand closer and started tracing the motives with his forefinger, causing goosebumps spreading from the top to the bottom of the back.

When the astonishment wore down, he finally realized the marks had not disappeared the moment his skin had entered in contact with Chuuya’s skin when the latter had treated him. He wondered if Chuuya had noticed it but decided to keep it quiet for now. Even though he was sure practically it was the case. No matter what he could say, he knew the redhead wasn’t stupid. And Chuuya was probably the more accustomed to his ability.

“They’re fading.” The mumble brought him back to reality.

“What?”

“The marks. They were more vivid when I came out the book. They should disappear in two or three days. When I first noticed them, I didn't know what they were. I mean, I've never seen myself when I'm using Corruption. Then I remembered how you described it to me. So I promptly panicked. Until I realized I could think rationally. Which led to another kind of freak out. It must have taken a whole day before I managed to calm myself enough to… Well, at the end of the day, I had twenty-ish missed calls and as many as messages. The day after, I bandaged myself and went to work. Fortunately the marks didn’t spread on my arms and my face. So it was easy to hide. I don’t know if anyone suspect a thing. Maybe the boss and Ane-san, considering how they were staring at my chest. Probably how you’re currently doing so.”

And staring Dazai was. But how Chuuya could blame him for it. The only times Dazai had seen such marks were during the use of Corruption when he couldn’t really observe them with attention. Never did he imagine he could trace them with his fingertips. He spent several minutes just brushing the marred skin, as if hypnotized. Meanwhile, Chuuya wasn’t moving. That was not how he thought he would spend the night.

“They’re still there.” Chuuya turned his head slightly to shoot a look that Dazai could only interpret as insulting and annoyed. “They didn’t disappear when you touched me earlier.” When the look he received got even more unimpressed, he added. “It means it doesn’t come from your ability.”

The redhead huffed. “Yeah, I figured as much. I didn’t feel anything unordinary when I treated you. Which doesn’t reassure me at all.” And Dazai could only agree. It seemed it was making the mafioso rather anxious.

“Did something happen? In the book I mean.” It was only his reflexes that saved him from the punch thrown at his face. He grabbed the extended wrist before maneuver both of them into a lying position. Chuuya was now on his back, Dazai straddling him and his wrist still held. He glared at the brown while trying to free his hand. When he moved his second hand, it ended like the other. Now he was completely trapped under Dazai and his ability was still nullified.

“Oi shitty Dazai, let me go!”

“Sorry, I don’t really want to be punched tonight.”

“You do? So stop talking rubbish and get out of my apartment!”

“I’m serious Chibi.”

“So am I.” He struggled and tried hitting the brown with his feet but it made no different, the detective only budging a little before securing his legs on the top of the smaller ones. “Shitty mackerel, get the fuck off me! What do you even want, ha? You were bored so you decided to cut yourself and come bothering me? Playing with me? Do you have fun? Do you find it funny how you seem to always have the upperhand?”

The hands around his wrists were starting to hurt which he chose to ignore. His emotions were all around and he didn’t know if what he was feeling was anger or sadness or worry. Since the book, he hadn’t totally reconnect with his emotions yet. And Dazai had always had the habit to make a mess of his emotions. But now it was worst. He felt like crying and yelling at the same time. He wanted to punch his ex-partner as much as he wanted to hug him and never let him go.

“Is it what you think?” Hearing the tone with which it was said, Chuuya stilled and locked his eyes into Dazai’s ones and felt like the latter had punched him in the stomach. Empty eyes were bored into his and he felt like he was going to be wholly swallowed. All the anger dissipated, leaving him drained from the emotional roller coaster he was experiencing.

He could hear his heart beating loudly, the only sound in the room. The switch had been so abrupt he didn’t know what to think about it. He opened his mouth to say something but the words were replaced by a screech when teeth broke the skin of his shoulder. Blood was running down his shoulder to end on his bed. He felt a little annoyance at that but was too dumbstruck to react. But then Dazai started licking and sucking the bite, almost like an apology.

Before he could properly let Dazai know what he thought about that, the latter collapsed on the top of him, his face in the crook of his neck. He let out a deep sigh. Clearly yelling would be no use.

“You’re awfully clingy today?” The other only hummed in response. “O-kay. Could you please let go of my hands? It’s starting to get uncomfortable.” He glanced the hand holding his wrist. “For you as well. You’re hurt. Don’t worsen your wounds, idiot.”

Probably to annoy him, Dazai tightened his grip for a while before he eventually let go. Chuuya rubbed absent-mindedly his wrists above his head. Dazai was stronger than he appeared. As for the brown, he had brought his hands down and was now playing with his hair, occasionally scratching his scalp. And fuck if it wasn’t smoothing. Adding the grounding weight on his chest. And the reassuring sensation of nothingness.

He was almost lured towards sleep when he remembered the exact situation he was in. But it seemed neither of them wanting to make a move. And he prefered dealing with Dazai like this rather than his emotionless self. But unfortunately they couldn’t stay like that indefinitely. He brought one of his hands to the head nestled against him and slapped it more kindly than he wanted.

“Okay asshole, time to move!” When the other didn’t move and kept playing with his hair, he frowned. “Mackerel, get off me. We can’t stay like th–”

“Why not? I’m pretty comfortable here.” He interrupted the redhead while snuggling further into his neck, as if to prove a point.

“We’re both bare-chested. We’re gonna be cold and fall sick.”

“Chibi doesn’t get sick.”

“Maybe but you on the other hand can.”

“I have my bandages on. So not bare-chested.”

His nostrils flared in annoyance. “And you think it’s going to prevent you from getting cold.”

“It probably won’t. But Chuuya’s warm. So no problem.” He started rubbing his head, knowing perfectly the gesture could easily bring to sleep. “Now relax. You’re warm, I’m comfortable and I haven’t slept for two days.”

“Ha?! Don’t you dare to fall asleep! Especially on me!”

The hand left his hair and he was rather mortified when he felt disappointment at the action. He tucked his head to the side, as if to hide his embarrassment. His nose met brown hair and he felt his cheeks burning when he heard the faint chuckle. He then felt the blanket he had pushed aside earlier being put on them. Once it was in place, Dazai brought back his hand where it was. Dazai also slightly shifted to the side so he wasn’t completely on the smaller anymore. Chuuya, seeing protesting would lead nowhere, put his hand on the other back and started tracing motives and playing with the bandages, being careful not to undo them. And for the first time since the book, the lack of his ability didn’t seem like a burden.

[barnes-belle]

Beauty and the Barnes (4)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Lots of Smut, Light Hints of Non/Dub-Con, Prostitution, Swearing, Dark Bucky. (I can’t stress enough that this is kinda dark, Buckys an asshole and the kind of behavior that goes on in this fic is in no way acceptable in the real world)

When your father falls deathly ill you fall into a lifestyle you would have never predicted for yourself. Selling your body as a high-class escort isn’t ideal but it’s the only way to find the money you need to help your father, until your first client offers you another way.

Bucky’s mean, coarse and gets a kick out of watching you squirm but he is willing to help your father. All you have to do is sign yourself over to The Winter Soldier, body and soul.

Trapped in The Avengers compound, serving as a PA to a man who’s an absolute beast you find yourself wondering if there’s such a thing as a happy ending?

Masterlist

Chapter Four

Cocooned in cashmere blankets, resting your head on feather pillows, you were deeply asleep and having the most wonderful dream. It was all hazy pleasure and a warm feeling deep in your gut that just felt right, until you woke up and realised you weren’t alone.  Metal fingers grazed along your hip, toying with the hem of your tank top and you turned your head to see Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, smirking at you. You groaned and turned away, burying your face in the pillow. The bed shifted and you felt him settle behind you.  

“You were calling my name.” His smug voice whispered in your ear.

 “What?” You asked, your blood running cold.

 “In your sleep, you were calling my name. What exactly was I doing in your dream to make you call for me like that?” He teased.

 “I don’t remember.” You lied.

 “Was it anything like this?” He asked, brushing his lips across your neck.

 His breath fanned across your throat and you forgot whatever response you’d been about to give when his tongue licked across your pulse point. His mouth, so hot and wet, pressed open mouthed kisses along your skin and without thinking about it you bent your arm to reach behind yourself and tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him into your neck, a silent plea for him not to stop. His hand slid under the waistband of your pyjama shorts to cup your mound and you spread your legs, granting him access. He slid his other arm under your ribs and pulled you back into his body, cupping your breasts through your shirt as his metal fingers pushed between your lips and found your clit, teasing at it.

 “Bucky” You sighed and he growled in response.

 His mouth was suckling at your throat, his teeth nipping and grazing at your skin while his fingers played with your body skilfully, pushing you into a stupors, consuming haze of pleasure. The way his fingers rubbed against your clit had you panting and moaning for him as you distractedly moved your hand to brush away the annoying trickle of blood running down your chest.

 Wait, blood? As soon as you realised there was blood you realised that the pleasure at your neck was in fact pain.

 With no warning you were naked, on your back beneath him. He towered above you on his knees, his body all hard muscles and sharp lines. His hair hung loose, framing his face and casting an impenetrable shadow across his features. Blood dripped from his mouth and splashed onto your stomach and with a jolt of fear you knew it was your blood. He was eating you alive, and you weren’t going to stop him. His hands snatched at your hips, raising your bottom half of the bed and you wrapped your legs around his waist as his cock plunged inside you, making you arch your spine with a scream of ecstasy. He thrust inside you relentlessly with inhuman strength and it felt so good you didn’t care about anything else, tangling your fingers in his hair when he leant forward to sink his teeth into your flesh. The noises he made were animalistic, almost demonic as he devoured you.

 Blood run down your body, being smeared between the two of you as you moved in tandem. Something inside you was building,  a loud drumbeat banging towards an overpowering crescendo. Something was coming, either pleasure or death. It didn’t matter which.  

 “WILL YOU WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

 Your bedroom door crashed open, hitting the wall with a loud band and you sat up, gasping for breath. For a few moments you were caught between reality and the dream, unable to tell which was which.

 “What?” You asked, befuddled.

 “I’ve been knocking.” Bucky huffed, standing in the doorway glaring at you.

 You frantically ran your hands across your throat, relieved to find no wounds or blood.

 “What were you dreaming about?” He asked, in what almost sounded like concern as he watched the way you clutched at your neck.

 “I… Nothing. I don’t remember.” You lied, pulling the covers up to your chin to cover yourself.

 “You’re lying.” He stated and you gulped audibly.

 “Our agreement gives you unrestricted access to my body, not my mind. That’s off limits.” You told him, crossing your arms defiantly under the blanket.

 “Well get your body out of bed and get ready. I’m going for a run with Steve and Sam and I want you showered and dressed when I get back. I’ll be hungry after my run as well, so get on that.” He snapped.

 “I’m your assistant, not your housewife.” You muttered under your breath.

 Unfortunately he heard you.

 “If I drag you to the courthouse this afternoon will you start making me breakfast without whining about it?” He asked, rolling his eyes.

 “Honestly? It seems unlikely.” You said.

 “You’re sassy in the morning. I don’t like it.” He told you.

 “You said I had to do whatever you wanted, you didn’t say I had to do it without complaining.” You pointed out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

 “Do whatever I want without complaining about it.” He ordered.

 “Touché.” You said, acknowledging that you’d walked into that one.

 “Make sure there’s coffee as well. A lot of it.” He said.

 “Want me to get you a newspaper as well? Freshly squeezed orange juice?” You enquired with as much sweetness as you could muster.

 “The coffee’s for you, I’m hoping it will make you more bearable. Why do you keep rubbing your neck?” He asked, eyes on your throat.

 You stopped, not realizing you had been doing it in the first place.

 “I slept funny, I have a crick.” You said.

 “You’re lying again.” He said and you frowned.

 “How do you know that?” You asked.

 “I’m a good judge of character. Tell me why you’re doing it.” He demanded.

 “I had a weird dream ok? My neck got… injured.” You sighed.

 He stepped forward and reached out to brush your hand out of the way and check your neck for himself and you flinched away almost violently. He froze, looking between his metal arm and your throat with a dark haunted expression. Realisation seemed to dawn on him and he turned around without a word and strode away. When you heard the door slam you let out a shuddering breath as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. You thought about the way he’d looked at his metal limb and your neck and you swore as you realized that because you’d flinched away from it, he thought you were afraid of it.

 He probably assumed your nightmare had been about him. He was partially right, but still oh so wrong. Because you couldn’t truly call it a nightmare, the slick wetness between your legs was proof of that. It was a warning of what would happen if you weren’t careful.

  One very cold shower and two cups of coffee later, you weren’t feeling any better. Your dream had really messed with your head and you were torn between contrasting and conflicting emotions. You didn’t have to be an expert in dream psychology to know that you were afraid of giving into Bucky and being taken over by him, even worse, enjoying it. On the other hand, you were wracked with guilt for making him think you were afraid of him.

 Yes he was a bastard, he was cruel and twisted. He had treated you like a whore, but that was all you were to him. It didn’t mean you found his behaviour acceptable in any way and you wouldn’t be giving him any personality awards any time soon, but while you didn’t like him, you also didn’t hate him. You certainly didn’t want him to think you were scared of his arm. Of all the things you had a problem with about that man, his prosthetic wasn’t one of them. And your fathers life depended upon him.

 So yes, you were still a whore. Bucky’s whore. But you were a very well paid whore, and it could be a lot worse. You needed to remember that and look on the bright side of this less than ideal situation. And most importantly, you needed to remember that no matter how good it felt, no matter how handsome he was, no matter how badly your body wanted it, you could not give in. You were here for his pleasure, not your own.

 As soon as he walked back in the door you spoke.

 “I’m not afraid of your arm. I’m not afraid of you.” You blurted and he froze.

 You were stood next to the table, an assortment of breakfast foods you’d made all dished up and waiting because you’d had no idea what he liked.

 “What are you afraid of?” He asked.

 “What if I told you I had limits? Things I didn’t want to do?” You asked gently, testing the waters.

 “You didn’t want me to cum inside you at first, you quickly got over that.” He said coldly.

 “And even if I hadn’t, you were doing it anyway right?” You said bitterly.

 You didn’t see the flash of guilt or disgust in his eyes.

 “Alright, give me your hard limits.” He said.

 “Why? So you can get off on pushing past them?” You snapped.

 “You signed the contract doll, you didn’t have to. I didn’t force you in any way. I just made you an offer and you accepted. You want to change your mind? Want me to tear it up?” He snarled.

 You honestly didn’t know if he was bluffing or not but it didn’t matter, you both knew that you weren’t going to call it.

 “That’s not what I was getting at.” You huffed.

 “Good. Then tell me what it is you’re so afraid I’m going to do to you.” He demanded.

 You clenched your jaw and raised your chin defiantly. He sighed heavily and his head hung low, hair falling across his face.

 “Tell me, please.” He pleaded.

 “I don’t know. I don’t know what I don’t want. I… I don’t want you to try and make me cum.” You admitted and his head snapped up to look at you.

 “You don’t want to enjoy it?” He asked incredulously.

 “You said you didn’t care if I came or not, you just didn’t want me to fake it.” You reminded him.

 “That was before.” He whispered.

 “Before what?” You asked.

 “Fine. That’s your hard limit? I won’t make you cum.” He said, standing up and stalking over to you.

 “Get in your room and lie on the bed.” He ordered.

 You sighed and nodded, doing as you were told. It was a few moments before he followed, his whole body rigid with some kind of unidentifiable dark emotion. Wordlessely he stood next to the bed and reached up to yank your jeans off, pulling them over your hips and throwing them over the floor. He eyed your underwear contemplatively before he pulled them off as well.

 “Touch yourself.” He said lowly and stepped back to watch you, his eyes hungrily drinking you in.

 “I’m sorry, what?” You asked.

 “I wouldn't want to push your limits but you swore that you would do whatever I said when I said it. So spread your legs, and touch yourself.”

 Your heart was racing , sending your blood thundering through your veins so fast that you felt light headed. Like they had a mind of their own your legs parted for him and you saw his eyes darken at the way you were laid bare before him. Tentatively, and shyly you gently teased your fingers along your slit, dipping into it and your middle finger across your clit just barely touching it.

 “Spread your pussy for me, if I don't get to do this to you I want a damn good view.” He ordered.

 Your breath shuddered out of you as you did as you were told, propping yourself up on your pillow and parting your lips with your fingers with one hand. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and his whole body jerked, like he was physically restraining himself.  He stood at the end of the bed, watching shrewdly as you slid your fingers down, gathering up your wetness with them and using it to rub massage smoothly against your throbbing clit. You might have told yourself that you didn’t want this but your body definitely did. Your breath came in shallow pants as you worked yourself over, under his watchful gaze. Just knowing he was watching, knowing his eyes were glued to your pussy made it wetter and you had to bite down on your lip hard to stop from moaning his name.

 “Faster.” He told you and you obeyed, your fingers speeding up.

 You ran your clit between two fingers and rubbed them together, creating a delicious friction. As good as it felt, you were empty and it was causing a needy ache. You slowly slid a finger inside yourself and he snarled, grabbing you by the ankles and yanking you down the bed until you slammed into his crotch. He probably didn’t intent for it to feel so good but the soft cotton of his sweatpants and the hardness of his cock underneath felt too good against your bare cunt and without any sort of permission from your brain, your hips gyrated, rubbing yourself against him. He froze in shock, perhaps at the brazenness of your action or the hypocrisy.

 “So I’m not allowed to get you off, but you’re allowed to get yourself off on me?” He asked angrily, pulling his shirt off.

 You were already confused, being swallowed by desire and his body only messed with your lust addled brain more and you whimpered at the sight of him. Your dream, as sick as it was, had done him justice.

 “Go on then… Cum for me, on me.” He demanded, pushing his hips into you until your back arched off the bed.

 You eagerly accepted the offer, squeezing your thighs around his hips so you could gently drag your by now, soaking wet pussy over his clothed length.

 “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

 “What was that?”

 “I’m sorry! I want you, I do.” You admitted.

 Your whole body was aflame with desire for him and as much as you wished you could deny it, you couldn’t.

 “You want me?” He growled and you closed your eyes in shame and nodded.

 He shoved his sweatpants and underwear down in one smooth, rapid move and grabbed your hips, running his cock along your slit.

 “Say it.” He demanded.

 “I want you.” You said immediately.

 “Not that.” He snapped.

 You knew what he wanted, you knew what you had to say. Your brain warred with your body but the way his cock rubbed against you was too much to fight against. It hadn’t even been one day and you were already giving in to him, that how weak you were.

 Or how irresistible he was.

 “I want to cum for you. I want you to make me cum.” You begged.

 You had managed to wipe the memory of how painful it was, taking his cock inside you but you were quickly reminded as his head pushed past your folds, penetrating you swiftly. His girth stretched you, burning straight away before he was even a full inch inside you and it was perfect. The pain, the pleasure, it all mingled together. Every centimetre he pushed in, you felt. It was slow, torturous and wonderful and just when you felt the tip of him brush your cervix, his body met yours and he bottomed out.

 You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles behind him as he cupped your breasts, distracting you while you adjusted to his size.

 “Are you ready?” He hissed quietly, twitching his hips.

 “Yes, god yes.”

 “Good.” He snapped, pulling out of you completely and flipped you over so you were bent over the edge of the bed, your face pressed to the soft cashmere sheets.

 He slammed into you, no trace of care or tenderness and you screamed, partially in pain, mostly in pleasure while as fast as he’d entered, he withdrew and slammed into you again. It felt good, it really did, even if somewhere in the back of your mind you knew he was too big to do this without it hurting you. You were going to be sore for days but fuck, if it wasn’t worth it. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back until your spine was bent at an almost unnatural angle while he fucked you wildly, like a man possessed. His metal hand wrapped around your throat and held you in place, squeezing ever so slightly. It was enough to let you know what he could do but not enough to cut off your oxygen supply.

 The animalisticness of it, the roughness, the possessiveness was too much for you to bear and your orgasm built rapidly. When he felt your walls begin to twitch around him and your moans grow in pitch and frequency, he pulled out and a few short seconds later you heard him grunt and felt him ejaculate over your ass.

 You pushed your face into the blanket with a half sob, realising what he was doing. He wasn’t going to let you cum, he was going to force you to keep to your own hard limit.

 “I’ll know if you touch yourself and I’ll punish you for it in ways you can’t imagine.” He warned.

 You kept your face buried in the blanket, too weak and afraid to look at him right now because your body was trembling with need and it hurt. You heard him pick up his clothes and walk out and only then did you stand up, your legs quivering.

 Making you break your own rule wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to torture you until you begged him to let you break it. A part of you, the very very horny part, wanted to give in and beg. The rest of you, the part that still had pride, wanted to ignore him. There was also a stupid part of you that was tempted to make yourself cum anyway, consequences be damned but you knew better than to listen to that part. You heard the shower switch on and realised you’d either have to wait, or join him.

 You’d wait.

 But you’d given in to him on the first morning. You hadn’t even made it a few hours before spreading your legs and begging him to take you. How the hell were you going to stand a chance of winning this battle of wills?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@spnqueen02 @nogardsoahk @chipilerendi   @youwerespared  @jessieray98@nochampagnesocialist@scarlettswxtch @dropthepizza346 @jsmith509

[lady-o-ren]

Just Between Lovers

Previously

Chapter Three - Flesh and Blood

My first waking thought was a jumbled fog of incoherence that ripped every vessel and tissue within my skull, worse then a whiskey fueled hangover where the only cure was immediate withdrawal from reality and I did just that.

The second time I stirred was with a sluggish awareness that I was indeed, victoriously, not dead with only a vague notion that I was lying in the comfort of a bed seeping in warmth and not much else. No wonderment of how I got there, or even the day or month. It was irrelevant to a mind still adrift, where images fluttered in fragmented shapes, bursted with streams of dancing color, and simply, I just didn't care. Needing no other reassurances but the bed I laid upon, I burrowed further into the sheets preferring sweet oblivion for how ever long I could have her.

However, I wasn't expecting for my bed to mumble back at me with parted lips breathing hot along my neck.

To be pulled flush to hips of another, the beginning's of a waking self making it's presence known quite firmly as I melted into the pocket of heat between this others thighs.

Pressed to a torso that heaved with muscle along the arch of my back, an odd contrast to the lithe body whose name lingered in misty memory, far from the tip of my tongue.

It was then I cracked an inquisitive, blurring eye open to a room coated in quiet silver, where I tried more earnestly to recall a time before the now that pressured at my temples. But I was interrupted by the roaming touch of fingertips as they stroked lazy patterns past the slope of my bared hip. A gentle questioning - To sleep, or no?

I banished the swell of confusion for the promise of  desire. I moved heavy, languidly, as if in a dream (Was it a dream?) turning towards the man who was piecing himself slowly back together from the haze. My heartbeat hitched to see him, to know him again and it did with a stinging snap, all of him at once if only to show the glaring difference to the stranger beside me cast in dappled shadows.

A man who raised a hand to cup my cheek speaking another mumble of nonsensical, Sass-nak, that had me wrenching away in panic.

Who tumbled with me in a tangled embrace of sheets and thrashing limbs to the hard wooden floors, where I kneed the son of a shit deep with a furious twist in his groin - "Dia, mo bhail!" - grabbing my phone with a stumbling step to the closest door to seek refuge…

To the bathroom.  

Fuck! Fucking! Fuck!!

"Claire?!"

With a click of the lock, I leaned against the solid slab of wood, falling to my heels and tile, my heart hammering as he moaned my name - How did he know my name?

"Ifrinn naomh!"

I relished in the bloody bastards cry (triumphantly smug, really) as I turned on my phone to call for help but instead I was met with an image that cracked my sanity in two.

The lock screen.

My face flushed in happiness, pressed to his no longer shadowed in murky dimness but alight with hair that very wave, that very shade of torrid red that had been a blushing revelation to me.

My heart stilled with a chill.

I looked through the photos with trembling fingers swiping madly. Of him. Us. Together. Unimportant moments, the in-between of a life I couldn't remember living but clearly me in all. Another swipe had me squeaking, "Jesus .H. Christ!" as I pressed the phone to my chest in a crimson thump, another stab of mania making me faint.

Fingers clawing at my scalp, I traced the map of memories to the point where my brain threatened to spasm, pushing forward past the throb on to a morning uneventful, to the end of a tiring shift where I was to go home to Frank. Yes, Frank waiting for me (was he still?). But then it rained, pouring pellets that whipped sharp against my face, I ran … and then what?

A single pound at the door knocked me forward in a startle just like -

Falling!

In the rain, straight into a pool of a rippling tide so blue, fathomless like his eyes, to the here and now -

"Are ye alright, Sassenach?"

To a dream made flesh and blood real.

"Beauchamp, you've gone insane."

I sat crumpled as reason and logic abandoned me, leaning my head against the door, a movement mirrored on the other side with a soft tap and a strained sigh.

"Ye ken all ye needed to do was say ye had to piss, not throttle me in the process." Humor tinged with ache laced the strangers voice that penetrated through the wood straight to my beating chest. It was deep, calming almost, rooting me to this impossible reality I still didn't believe in.

And why should I?

Maybe this is nothing more than a vivid nightmare gone too far.

A breakfast of day old curry causing me to hallucinate. (Wouldn't be the first of my beloveds betrayal)

Anything else but the insanity of being trapped in another life.

Sitting there with questions piling higher and higher in suffocating anxiety wasn't doing me any good. So I opened the door, the final test of truth.

What once was a figment of indulgent imagination sat like me, on the ground, so very close, so thoroughly confused and very real indeed. Even with a fury of pictures dizzying my head of this man, I did what I had always wanted to do in those moments of intimacy between us. I looked at him.

A stubbled face of golden skin, a beautiful gaze seeking answers I couldn't give or hold, with hair that curled all over just like in dreams where I felt the soft trail of it brush along my skin..He was also terribly shirtless (I belatedly realized I was wearing his shirt of faint musk and not much else, tugging the hem over my bruised knees) and cradling his offended appendage over his plaid pants that had me feeling mildly guilty but still justifiably smug.

"I ken ye like to stare at me, Sassenach, and I you, but ye care to tell me what had you thrashing mightily about? I would be proud of ye if I werena the one on the suffering end." Despite his brows being knit together in distress the corners of his mouth were quirked up in amusement, I could tell for my benefit only and it put me at ease to know this stranger was at the very least kindly. As well as patient as he waited for a reply that stumbled on my tongue.

"How badly did I pummel you?" My first words spoken to him sounded awkward to my ears. I wanted to ask him a million other things not one of those being his health - Who are you? Is this purgatory? Why are you very, very naked in my phone? But how to do that without coming across as raving mad was beyond me.

"I wouldna call being attacked by a crazed vixen a wee pummel. I meant what I said, ye downright tried to butcher my bawls." He narrowed his eyes at me but the smile only grew wider and I felt my own lips begin to twitch. "Do ye no want to look?"

"Me?" Just when my pulse was beginning to settle.

"Aye, you Dr. Beauchamp, or do I have to sue ye for bodily injury which I'm damn well tempted to." He was already pulling down the waistband past his navel where the path of hairs darkened to a russet. My instinct was to screw my eyes shut and bury my face in the softness of his shirt, but I had already seen it, (felt it too) and I was a doctor first and foremost no matter the circumstances...

Pushing my fright of curls aside, I leaned forward to his partial reveal and could see that he was Perfectly intact. Perfectly so. However, my eyes were drawn to the spectacular bruise I delivered off to the side that I couldn't help but admire.

"No harm done, I just missed your vital organs." The Scot opened his mouth to protest that statement when I poked the bluish splotch making him hiss. If I needed further proof of his existence I could feel it right then and there in a shiver along his soft skin to mine. "But here will need some ice..." Whoever you are.

"If ye say so." he eyed me unconvinced as he drew the waistband back, probably wanting to seek the second invaluable opinion of Frank's favorite webmd. But then his eyes softened towards me in more then just kindness, holding a tenderness of heart that crinkled at the corner of his eyes.

"Maybe some ice for you as well, aye Sassenach?" He reached out to my own discolored patch blooming on my knees, using the backs of his fingers to gently soothe my aches away. A touch so familiar I had felt many times before in dreams of loneliness, want and need that I hesitated to pull away.

"So what was it that gave ye a start this verra early morning, mo ghràidh?" His hand felt of embers as it rested just above the bruising with his thumb brushing the raised bumps of my skin smooth. Still, I didn't move.

"A nightmare is all it was." I replied a little breathless,  barely registering what I was now certain was gaelic sprout from his lips, though the meaning was a mystery. My eyes were more focused on the ruddy back of his broad hand and how I should push it far from me before it traveled upward past the hem of white.

"I wouldna call that a wee nightmare. Tell me what wretch of a creature spooked ye so for me to suffer in it's place. It might do ye some good."

That wretch was Frank.

I abruptly raised myself on wobbled legs and smoothed the shirt down flat, leaving him befuddled at my feet.

"That bad?" He asked concerned. I assured him it was nothing, but the flash of skepticism lit his gaze, scrutinizing the falseness of my words that were blatant even to me before schooling his face back to ease. For me again.

"You need ice." I need to leave. Find Frank, wherever he is. Would he even know me? Listen to me? Believe me? Geillis then...Who will then promptly throw me in a sanitarium, electrodes in hand, straight jacket in the other with the most joyous face of delight to grace her lovely wicked face. An early birthday present for her if anything.

Christ, who was I to talk to?

"A hand, Sassenach?" The Scots burr interrupted another round of 'what the living hell do I do' as he stuck his hand out and I stared at it rather dimly. "Och, I will no' bite ye, no' now anyway. I'll get my revenge on ye when ye least expect it." He gave a weak attempt at a wink and I wondered if my other self had ever found that attractive.

"Try anything and you'll get more then a knee from me, with bull's-eye aim too." His hand completely engulfed mine when clasped together and held it captive to his broad chest of auburn once he was raised to a height that towered over me.

"I'm counting on it, wee vixen." A smirk plastered his face that had me crossed between bashing his nose and blushing.

"You're going to be impossibly annoying aren't you?" I said as I pulled myself from his grip, losing the heat of him to the coolness of the air around.

He raised a brow chuckling, "Och, we've been together this long and yer just finding that out now, lass?"

I didn't bother to ponder how long that was, I threw it to the pyre with all the other burning questions.

I left him to the room I didn't know, to a hallway I didn't remember, dawdling around until the soft patter of my steps brought me to a kitchen most familiar, minus one bare arse redhead, with only a single thought upfront in my mind besides where the whisky was.

How do I get back home?

A/N:      

Dia, mo bhail - God, my bawls 

Ifrinn naomh - Holy hell

[newstfionline]

What Elon Musk Should Learn From the Thailand Cave Rescue

By Zeynep Tufekci, NY Times, July 14, 2018

Dr. Tufekci is a professor who writes about the social impact of technology.

Silicon Valley moguls seem to believe they can fix most anything, and they appear befuddled when their attempts to do so aren’t met with unbridled enthusiasm.

The tech billionaire Elon Musk was among the millions of people captivated by the plight of the 12 boys and their soccer coach recently trapped in a cave in Thailand. But Mr. Musk didn’t just follow the story on the news and social media; he has vast resources, so he also tried to help.

He directed his engineers to build a miniature “submarine” (basically a sophisticated metal cylinder) that he hoped could be used for the rescue. He shared videos of the submarine with his 22 million followers on Twitter. And he received widespread media coverage and encouragement from his many fans.

Mr. Musk’s desire to help was commendable. But when the head of the rescue operation, Narongsak Osottanakorn, declared that Mr. Musk’s contraption was impractical for the task at hand--a task that had been completed, at that point, by some of the world’s top cave divers--Mr. Musk responded with irritation. He insisted on Twitter that leaders of the operation had in fact welcomed his assistance and that Mr. Narongsak was not the “subject matter expert.” He also expressed frustration that he was being criticized while trying to help.

Instead of venting, Mr. Musk--indeed, Silicon Valley as a whole--can perhaps see the Thai operation as a lesson. This was a most improbable rescue against the longest odds. Safely navigating 12 kids and one adult, many of whom were not swimmers, through a dangerous cave relied on a model of innovation that Silicon Valley can and should learn from.

The Silicon Valley model for doing things is a mix of can-do optimism, a faith that expertise in one domain can be transferred seamlessly to another and a preference for rapid, flashy, high-profile action. But what got the kids and their coach out of the cave was a different model: a slower, more methodical, more narrowly specialized approach to problems, one that has turned many risky enterprises into safe endeavors--commercial airline travel, for example, or rock climbing, both of which have extensive protocols and safety procedures that have taken years to develop.

This “safety culture” model is neither stilted nor uncreative. On the contrary, deep expertise, lengthy training and the ability to learn from experience (and to incorporate the lessons of those experiences into future practices) is a valuable form of ingenuity.

This approach is what allowed the airline captain Chesley Sullenberger to safely land a commercial airplane on the Hudson River in 2009 after its engines were disabled. Captain Sullenberger’s skill and composure were, of course, a credit to him personally. But they also rested on decades of training and learning in an industry that had been government-regulated and self-regulated to such a degree that hurling through the atmosphere in giant metal cans at 35,000 feet is now one of the safest ways to travel.

By contrast, Silicon Valley moguls seem to favor spending money on improbable but impressive-sounding long shots. In 2010, Mark Zuckerberg, the chief executive of Facebook, donated $100 million to New Jersey schools as part of a multiyear plan to improve them. The centerpiece of the plan was teacher evaluation and charter schools, but it didn’t work well. Some aspects of the plan even made things worse. Education is a complex topic, and making a lot of money in tech is not a qualification for solving educational problems.

Silicon Valley also tends to ignore problems in its own house. Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon, has declared that space exploration is one of the main things he should spend his money on. But poorly paid workers in Amazon warehouses, who work under grueling conditions, may have other ideas about how Mr. Bezos might best spend his money.

In the case of Mr. Musk and his submarine, the Thai authorities understood that they needed to let the expert cave divers plan and direct the rescue operation (and Mr. Musk, to his credit, said he would take the lead from the divers). But the kind of publicity Mr. Musk created can take on a life of its own and exert undue influence.

I don’t mean to dismiss the role of technological innovation. Maybe in the future, some version of Mr. Musk’s contraption could be useful. But that would require long-term development, testing and collaboration with a variety of experts--not just a handful of Mr. Musk’s engineers.

If Silicon Valley wants to help the world, there is a lot it can do, starting with making its own products safer and its own companies more just. Perhaps most important, it can develop respect for hard-earned expertise in areas other than its own.

[demented-russian-empress-of-hell]

If the Glove Fits Pt3

Thomas arrived at the palace late, the ball was already in full swing when he entered the grand hall. All eyes turned to him as he descended the staircase, causing a blush to flourish on his cheeks. Thomas was not used to being the center of attention. The intense scrutiny of all who were present put Thomas on edge which caused him to stumble on the final step, sending him flailing face first towards the pristine marble floor. The cool hardness of the ball room floor never reached Thomas’ body, instead he found himself encapsulated in a pair of lean, sturdy arms.

“You certainly know how to make an entrance Tommy,” the same angelic voice that been haunting Thomas’ dreams drifted into the brunette’s ear, once again reminding him of honey, “This is the second time you’ve fallen into my life, I do hope this trend doesn’t continue, I’d much rather you keep your handsome face unmarred. Now would you care to join for a dance?”

Thomas glanced up, even with the metallic, gold mask obscuring half of his rescuers face, Thomas would never forget those gorgeous dark amber orbs. The brilliant red hue that adorned Thomas’ face seemed to want make a permanent home there. Opening and closing his mouth multiple times, Thomas finally just nodded, his brain not allowing him the basic function of speech at the present time. Newt beamed, taking Thomas’ gloved hand, and lead him to the center of the dance floor.

Newt took the lead, twirling and guiding Thomas in an intricate series of movements. All the guests formed a large circle around the pair, watching, some in awe, others in delicately hidden jealousy. Whispers were passed between onlookers, all wondering who this mystery man was, and how he had so easily captured the prince’s heart. Thomas was acutely aware of the whispered voices and the hateful eyes directed his way, but when Newt caught his gaze it all faded away. The blonde spoke soft reassurances in Thomas’ ear in an attempt to calm the young man, but the prince just ended up making the brunette a mumbled, jumbled mess of incohesive sputterings.

“Would you care to join me at my table for the banquet?” Newt asked when the music faded into nothing.

“Y- y- Of c- I- I-” Thomas’ brain still refused to function in an appropriate manner. Newt laughed, a warm, rumbling that reminded Thomas of the first roll of thunder from a summer storm.

“I shall take that as a yes?”

Thomas nodded, wishing his brain would begin functioning properly, and soon, or else dinner was gong to prove to be an interesting game of charades. The pair shared another dance, this time with other guests participating as well, before it was announced that dinner was ready. Newt offered his arm and lead Thomas into the enormous dining hall.

Thomas, still obliviously unaware of Newt’s actual identity, was thrown off when the blonde lead him to the head table. He was even more confused when Newt offered him the seat only one place away from the king’s.

“Wh- what?” Thomas finally managed to choke out.

“Yes Tommy?”

“Wh- why are we sitting here?”

“You still haven’t figured it out?”

The sea of befuddlement swimming in Thomas’ dark, earthy brown eyes told Newt that Thomas had definitely not figured out that Newt was the prince.

“Who do you think I am Tommy?”

“I- I thought you were just the son of one of the noble families, but I’m starting to think I was very, very wrong,”

“You’re as wrong as you may think, I am the son of a noble family, well, more specifically, the royal family,”

“So you, you’re the prince?” Thomas squeaked.

“Yes. Are you alright Tommy? You look a little pale,” Newt observed.

“I- uh… You’re the prince,” Thomas repeated, his brain now working at a much faster pace than it ever had before while also short circuiting from excessive thinking.

“Yes, I thought we established that already?” Newt asked, not understanding why Thomas was mentally freaking out.

“You’re the prince. And you’re talking to me. And I’m rambling. Oh god, how did I get into this situation?” Thomas ranted, panic rising.

“Tommy, breathe, breathe, here follow my lead, in, out, in, out. Good, just like that. Better?”

“Maybe? Why me?” Thomas had finally calmed down enough to form coherent questions.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you talking to me? I can’t imagine your father approving of me, and there must be quite a few nobles here who you would have much more in common with. I’m just the step-son of a former nobleman, I have nothing to offer you, what could you possibly find interesting enough about me to ask me to join you for dinner?” Thomas said dejectedly.

“Tommy-” Newt was cutoff when his  father sat down on his other side, announcing that the meal was now to be served. The king kept Newt’s attention for most of the meal, pointedly ignoring Thomas’ presence at the head table. It wasn’t until right before dessert was to be served that Newt was able to distract his father enough to sneak away with Thomas.

The blonde prince lead Thomas out to the palace gardens, one of his favorite places to go to think. They walked in silence, side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally, knuckles rubbing against each other every few steps.

“Do you want to know why I asked you to dance with me and join me at the head table, even though I knew my father would never approve?” Newt asked suddenly. Thomas nodded, not wanting pointless words to disrupt the relative peacefulness surrounding them.

“I asked you, over everyone else in attendance tonight, because, you see me as a real person, not just a title. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since you fell into my life a week ago. And then when you showed up tonight, once again falling into my life, I knew I wouldn’t be able to love anyone else because you had stolen my heart without even trying,”

“Love? You love me?”

“Yes, I know we’ve only just met, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. You’re all I can think about, I think my steward might strangle me if he has to hear about your ‘gorgeous eyes and adorable moles’ one more time. Now come on I want to show you one of my favorite places,” Newt finished with a grin. He grasped Thomas’ hand and lead the brunette to a well disguised, ivy covered door.

On the other side of the thick wooden door was a small, quaint garden with an old, twisted apple tree growing proudly against the far wall. The stone walls were obscured by the dense vines of the ever growing ivy, and there a simple wood swing hanging from one of the branches of the apple tree. Newt walked over to stand beside the swing with an expectant look on his angelic face.

Thomas took a moment to take in the sight before him. Newt looked very out of place in his white and gold royal threads, dark, knee high boots, and golden blonde locks framing his perfect features. It was all such a stark contrast to the dark colors and earthy, unruliness of the garden. The only thing that seemed to fit Newt’s look was the light of the full moon. It illuminated the cozy little area and was reflected in Newt’s eyes, highlighting a slew of unspoken emotions.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk at me, or are you going to come over here and allow me the pleasure of pushing on the swing?” Newt asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his strikingly pink and plump lips. Thomas tried his hardest to stutter out an answer through his embarrassment, but gave up, choosing instead to let his actions speak for him.

“Are you always this articulate? Or am I just special?” the prince teased as he shifted to stand behind Thomas so he could gently push the brunette.

“I- I don’t talk to many people, s- so I don’t r-really what to say. I’m a- afraid of saying the wrong thing and m- making a fool of myself, or worse, saying something th- that might make you h- hate me,” Thomas stammered.

“Tommy, there is absolutely nothing you could ever say that would make me hate you,” Newt reassured, moving around the swing to stand directly in front of Thomas, “You’re far too kind and caring to ever have to worry about saying anything that would make me, or anyone else for that matter, hate you,”

“Try telling that to my family,” Thomas sighed forlornly.

“Maybe I will,”

Thomas’ head snapped up at the bold statement, he studied Newt’s gaze, searching for some hint of a lie, but all he found was deep adoration and just a tiny hint of lust. Newt slowly leaned down, bringing their faces closer together. The prince’s hands moved from where they had been resting be his side, to settle over the brunette’s steadying the swing, while also steadying himself. Thomas’ eyes fluttered shut when he felt Newt’s hot breath ghost over his lips. There were mere millimeters separating them when the first chime of midnight rang out across the palace grounds.

“Oh no! I have to go, now! I’m so sorry, I had a really excellent time, thank you so much for tonight!” Thomas yelped. He bolted to his feet, startling Newt in the process. He gave the blonde a deeply apologetic glance before sprinting out of the garden, ripping his hand out of the prince’s hold, and also out of his glove. Newt was left, rooted to the ground, staring in bewilderment at where Thomas had been only seconds ago, the blue silk glove clutched tightly in his slender fingers.

Thomas ran. His only thought was to get as far away from the palace as he could before the final stroke of midnight. Thankfully Minho was waiting with the carriage, nervously shaking his leg. Thomas leapt up to join his friend on the driver’s seat and took the reins, setting off at an alarmingly fast pace. The third chime rang out as they passed through the palace gates.

“We’re not going to make it home before the final stroke,” the stable hand mused.

“I know that,” Thomas snapped, “We just need to get as far away from the palace as we can,”

The eighth stroke of midnight sounded as they reached the edge of the village. The magic began to fade on the ninth chime. Horses began to turn back to mice, sturdy wheels reverted back into unsteady green vines, and Thomas’ suit faded back to the torn grey mess it had been only hours ago.

“Brace yourself,” Thomas shouted as the last bit of magic wore off, sending the two men tumbling into the ground.

“You okay?” Minho asked, picking himself up from the dirt path.

“Physically yes, emotionally, I have no idea,” Thomas replied, “I’ll explain as we walk,” he said in response to Minho’s concerned look. As they made their way back to Thomas’ family estate he recounted the night’s events to his companion.

“Well at least you got to keep one of the gloves,” Minho said, trying to cheer Thomas up.

“What?” Thomas said, looking down he saw that Minho was indeed correct. There on his left hand was the blue silk glove that had matched his suit from the ball. “Why do I still have this? It should have disappeared with the rest of the magic,”

“I don’t know what to tell you, maybe because you didn’t have both?”

“I doubt that, magic wouldn’t care if they were together or not, so it must be something else,”

They had made it back to the house and were heading towards the stable when the distinct thundering of hooves alerted them of Thomas’ step-family returning. Thomas removed the glove and handed it to Minho, “You need to hold onto this for me, if Lord Janson finds out I went to the ball I’ll be dead before sunrise,” with that he rushed inside to greet his step-family.

“Thomas! Ah there you are, prepare my nightly tea and scotch, it has been an interesting night and I need to calm myself,” Lord Janson said, throwing his coat in Thomas’ direction.

“Well I don’t see how a ball could be anything but interesting,” Thomas mused, as he moved towards the kitchen.

“Yes, well unfortunately the night was ruined by some charlatan. He was all over the prince, it was disgusting really. Now get me my tea and scotch and bring it to my room,”

“Yes sir,”

Thomas prepared tea for step-siblings as well as his step-father, taking time to deliver each their own cup.

“So what did you do tonight Thomas?” Lord Janson asked when Thomas brought him his tea.

“Nothing sir, finished my chores and talked with Minho,” Thomas answered, doing his best to control his reaction to the question.

“Really now?”

“Yes sir, now if you would excuse me I must get to bed so I can get enough rest as to not fall asleep while cooking breakfast tomorrow,”

“Yes of course, you must had a strenuous night, keeping up appearances and all,” Lord Janson as Thomas shut the door behind him. Heart racing, he sprinted up to his room. There was no way his step-father could possibly know that Thomas had gone to the ball. No, Jorge had assured him that his family wouldn’t recognize him, plus it had been a masquerade, so maybe they just thought someone else looked like him. Thomas did his best to convince himself that Lord Janson had no idea that Thomas was the one who had captured the prince’s attention the whole night. Panic grew as the night wore on.

@noconcernforyou @your-local-geek @comebacknow @newthomally @newtmas @glader-of-wicked @seaselkie @illuminateandrelate @thomasnewts @purplepingupenguins

[electronics-store-nepal]

Advantages and Disadvantages of buying LED TV

In the event that you have plans of buying LED TV, at that point, this blog will be useful to you. This blog educates you about the contrasts among LED and LCD TV and furthermore the disservices and focal points of LED TV. You don't should be befuddled about how LED is not quite the same as LCD TV. Driven isn't something new, it's simply an update of LCD TV. 

On the off chance that you have plans to purchase LED TV, at that point you should know its upsides and downsides. This will help you in purchasing. As referenced before LED is only a superior overhaul adaptation of LCD. The main principle distinction is that in LCD, cold cathode glaring light (CCFL) is utilized and in LED, light diodes are utilized. Because of this distinction, the client appreciates an incredible true to life seeing experience when contrasted with LCD. 

Presently how about we view the advantages and disadvantages of LED TV 

Advantages of LED TV 

•Picture Quality: The main favorable position that LED TVs have over LCD TVs is that they have a superior picture quality. The degrees of dark are better and improved which makes you see even the blackest tones. Driven uses light-discharging diodes consequently, the brilliance is preferable and improved over LCD which utilizes bright light bulbs. 

•They are Energy productive: Not just they give improved picture quality however they are even energy-proficient. Whenever contrasted with LCD TV, they devour almost no energy. You will see a straight half force decrease in the event that you purchase LED TV. 

•The contrast proportion is better in LED TVs when contrasted with LCD TVs. 

•LED doesn't utilize mercury for backdrop illumination the presentation board. 

•They have a more extended life expectancy when contrasted with LCD TVs. 

•They are more solid than plasma TV or LCD television. 

Disadvantages of LED TV 

•The Price Factor: If you contrast the cost of LED and LCD, you'll see it costly. It's double the cost of LCD TV. 

•Attaching and mounting them to the divider: A major assignment is of mounting LED to the divider. They cannot be effectively mounted or appended to the dividers as they have a more dimensional profundity. 

•Contrast Ratio: LED has a superior differentiation proportion than LCD. Be that as it may, on the off chance that you contrast it with plasma TV, they have a superior difference proportion and are additionally less expensive in cost. 

•They are worse for outside survey: They aren't intended for open air seeing; the image quality looks more soaked in light and less fresh. 

•The size: They are accessible in little sizes going from 19inches to 50 inches. For greater than this, it exhorted going for Plasma TV.

After considering all the advantages and disadvantages, you can check the LED TV 24 inch price and make the best buy. 

[the-revisionist]

The Tristan Chord, chapter 20

xx. Calder Valley sunset view

Trigger warning: mentions of abortion, underage sex

1. the escape artist

It’s the Year of the Abortion. Gillian only calls it this in her head and in her diary: Written in a looped, thickly traced imprimatur of deep, cheap ballpoint blue—wishes she had an oh-so-symbolic red pen but doesn’t—underlined, defiant, and knowing full well that her nosy mother would read it. Despite this bit of all-caps bravado she does not quite possess the courage to write down all the things she wants to put to paper. Like how the morning after the D&E that began and ended with a doctor’s lecture and scowl, she stared into a toilet bowl of blood—oily clots and thickened skeins, specimens poised on the water’s surface as if on slide under a microscope, like in science class, she should be in science class—and her knees buckled and it was an act of sheer will to keep upright because she has already caused enough trouble, is the source of her mother’s tears and rages, her father’s silences, Robbie’s wounded befuddlement as she froze him out, all of it worse than the blood in the bowl, than the abortion itself.

Thus a resolution to be good: Extra chores around the house, studying more, assiduously avoiding any kind of interaction with and/or mention of boys. No matter how hard she tried, though, the perpetual undercurrent of parental resentment lit up her nerves and sent sparks of rebellion flying through the house. She swore at her mother’s passive-aggressive comments, matched her father in sulking, and got horrid, lurid purple streaks in her hair that unleashed a torrent of abusive verbiage from her mother more extensive and obscene than announcement of a pregnancy did. Her father had just sighed and said Oh, Gillian in that way he had, half a haiku of disappointment that cut her a thousand times more than the elaborate brow-beatings from her mum.

Then summer. The streaks in her hair grew out and when she bobbed it she appeared alarmingly wholesome—particularly in a school uniform, so it is a relief to chuck it in the bottom of the closet for a few months and avoid the leering sarcasm of certain headmasters: playing the nice girl next door now, are we? Being good, she realizes, is a tiresome affair, garnering no tangible reward, nor even a baseline of respect. She starts staying out late again, staggering in at any time between midnight and five in the morning, and usually digesting a late-night snack of leftovers and opprobrium from whichever parent had stayed up late for the honor of shaming her.

These nocturnal preoccupations come courtesy of another big event in the Year of the Abortion: Antje, Gillian’s best mate, buys a used Fiat. She lives in a council flat with her mother, who is Dutch; her father, a drunken native of Sowerby Bridge, occasionally shows up at the flat for attempts at reconciliation with his wife and daughter until his fists and his drinking override the tenuous established peace, and he ends up leaving again for the deleterious combination of rehab and flophouse.

Gillian has no idea why Antje—possessive of blonde supermodel good looks, who was also smart, cool, and widely admired by all—has ever given her the time of day. She possesses no illusions about her own appearance, and suspects they are friends largely because she makes Antje look good in comparison—pretty, but not too much so, the Belinda to her Dido—this comparison leaping to mind thanks to Maurice playing Dido and Aeneas the other week whilst she and her parents were having tea at his; after too much sherry he tipsily enacted the plot with salt and pepper shakers and various other condiments. (Dido was a bottle of Ballymaloe Relish.) Conveniently she could blame her parents for mixed messages. Her father, always kindly biased toward one and all, said that she was beautiful, while her mother would only say, with grudging suspiciousness, there’s something about you.

In comparison to what Antje has splendidly in spades, something is really nothing, and that elusive something did not serve her well in the plan she had hatched last year to be noticed by the great and mysterious Eddie Greenwood. Antje knows him, had introduced them at an outdoor party near the reservoir one time, where Eddie said ta by way of introducing himself and then later don’t lean on that, love when she dared to press her ass against the precious shiny flank of his newly renovated Corvair. Via the social misfit’s favorite kind of osmosis—artful eavesdropping—Gillian absorbed several facts: he was the older brother of her classmate Robbie, worked in a garage as a mechanic, which she liked because she liked working with autos and fixing things too, and Christ in heaven he was the gorgeous eighth fucking wonder of the world when he dove flawlessly into the reservoir. Awkwardly, and with Antje’s eh, why not? approval she set to the task of befriending Robbie in hopes of getting closer to Eddie. Similar to John Elliot’s impervious ignorance to the subtext of Gillian’s frequent interrogations concerning his estranged wife, Robbie seemed oblivious to her persistent questioning about his brother, and before she knew it she was in too deep with him. Which was easy enough to do because he was kind, laughed at her dumb jokes, and appeared interested in her to a degree that no one else was. Exempting the strange force of Robbie’s desire for her, nothing remains of the fantasy she craved nor the relationship she never meant to have.

So she finds herself at the reservoir once again on a summer night, but this time alone with Antje—their hair damp from a swim, trading a joint, and staring up into the encroaching night as just-visible stars knit infinite, unseen pathways into blackening blue.

So that’s that, eh? Antje says.

That’s that, Gillian echoes.

Antje hums sympathetically. Brilliant plan didn’t work.

Nope. Gillian releases a cloud of smoke, an offering to the starry sky. Didn’t fucking work at all.

They collapse into giggling that leaves them breathless, because there is nothing else to be said about it all.

A fortnight before the school year begins anew they go to a punk club in Manchester, all cavernous chill, blood red anarchy symbols and slogans on the grotty walls, bloated with smoke, and with a bad band doing covers of Joy Division until they’re booed off stage and someone starts cranking the real thing through the speakers. While Antje flirts with some bloke from the shit band because she thinks he looks like Adam Ant, Gillian tries finagling a pint from the bartender, who rolls his eyes at her alarming baby face and tells her to piss off—and finds herself pressed up against a woman at the bar also vying for alcohol.

The woman smirks and buys her a pint. Gillian is relieved the club is dim enough to camouflage her burning blush. Over the past year certain feelings have, on occasion, simmered within her, forcing periodic, half-hearted self-denials of the realization that she fancied some girls a bit, and watched them much the way she did certain boys and thus in a manner distinct from that of her friends—not the casual critiques of how Claire wears her lustrous hair and how Rita does her flawless makeup and doesn’t Sandra look amazing in that skirt, but something different. She is ensnared by ineluctable details: softness and grace, perfume and clean sweat, the long legs of the headmaster’s wife, just to name a few.

In the dark of the club the color of the woman’s eyes are unfathomable. Her hair, long and wavy, looks dark brown, auburn—or maybe that was a trick of the magenta light that hovered sadly around the empty, beer-sodden dance floor. She wears the seemingly incongruous combination of a leather motorcycle jacket over some sort of flowery print dress, and Doc Martens. So incongruous it seems genius, at least to a fifteen-year-old. She lives in Hebden Bridge, she tells Gillian, and studies art at Bradford. She smokes. Curlicues from her cigarette unravel slowly in contrast to the pounding, transformative flurry of music relentless as hummingbird wings.

Day in day out. Day in day out. Day in day out.

Gillian’s heartbeat matches time with Joy Division until Antje roughly grabs the scruff of her collar and slurs into her ear, we’re leaving, Mike is taking us to a party.

Irritably she wrinkles her nose. Who’s Mike?

Our new best friend, Antje hisses, so stop flirting with this dyke and let’s go.

This dyke. The phrase vibrates, her neck prickles. But as Gillian shrugs apologetically and turns to go, the woman grabs her rucksack by the strap, fishes out Gillian’s notebook of French that she was studying in preparation for the fall, and scrawls a name and an address on a blank page in the back. Only the name swims into cohesion: Julia.

Stop by sometime, yeah? Julia says. I have interesting friends. She smiles. And better drinks than here.

Outside the dark air is purer and sweeter, even as a lorry roars by, and the guy named Mike points at a white van while Gillian stops dead on the curb and thinks ax murderer.

Then Antje presses the keys of the Fiat into her palm, the sweaty warmth of her hand a shock. Follow us, she says.

Don’t have my license yet, you know that.

Don’t get caught, then. Before crossing the street to the van, she squints playfully at Gillian. That woman gave you her number?

Well, address. Yeah. So?

Oh nothing, Butterbean, Antje coos.

The nickname, used ever since they were in grammar school together, soothes Gillian’s ire just a touch. Don’t mean anything, she grumbles.

Jesus Gillian, you were looking at her like a bloke, Antje cackles—and nudges her gentle-like, nipping at her with a quick, blurry kiss on the cheek, and says, S’all right, silly, I don’t care. You only live once.

Following Mike to the van she sways through the street and the trench coat she wears flutters and flares; a streetlamp coronation drops a wreath of light on her blonde head. She pops into the van and she’s gone. Even though they remained friends for years after this, Gillian has always framed this image as a closing shot, the final scene in the movie of their youth because twelve years later Antje will be dead of an overdose in some bloke’s apartment in Manchester and Gillian will be married to Eddie and the first thing she will think of when hearing about it will be, you were always looking for the perfect way out, you always wanted to escape the shit life here, well you did, you finally did. In death, she envied Antje more than she ever did in life.  

2. A different shadow on the wall, a stranglehold of a certain feeling

A few weeks pass before Gillian makes the move one day after school. Getting into Julia’s building is no problem; the lock on the main door is broken, and every floor is connected by a thread of dingy hallways reeking of cabbage or unidentifiable root vegetables—a hundred years of cheap food sweltering and stewing in misery. Standing in front of the correct door on the fourth floor, she knocks. And waits. Knocks again. Nothing. While anxiously biting her lips, she hears an ominously slow thumping on the stairs that grows closer and closer. Then singing, a basso profundo of all force and no tone: Reap the wild wind.

Then, exaggerated and trilled ridiculously: Reeeeeaaaap the wwwwwwild wwwwwind.

Appearing at the end of the hallway is a large man with wild, curly black hair and a herringbone overcoat. He grins at her, which does absolutely nothing to soothe the panicked pounding of her heart; at a glance she can tell that she barely reaches his shoulders, her waist is probably as big as one of his thighs. Slowly he sways toward her, hulking and humming Ultravox, drunk or stoned or both and, like a battered old ship guided to shore by an invisible tugboat, lumbers right past her to the corner flat next door.

Fumbling with a set of keys, he nods at the door of Julia’s flat. She’s not in, love. Be around in about an hour or so.

Oh.

You’re welcome to wait, he says, and the door to his flat slowly opens. Want to come in?

N-no, I’m okay. I’ll just wait out here.

He smiles again. Smart girl. Prolly watch all those slasher movies, don’t ya? They’re like a public service announcement these days, aren’t they? He pushes the door open wider. Tell you what. I’ll leave the door open so we can chat.

Gillian remembers she has a Swiss army knife in her rucksack. My luck, she thinks, I’d probably end up stabbing myself if he comes at me. Okay, she agrees warily.

I’m James.

Right.

All right Miss Mysterious, you don’t have to tell me your name. Where’d you meet Jules?

Jules?

Julia, ya numpty.

Oh. Club over on Carlton.

You mean that shite place that always plays Depeche Mode?

Gillian hesitates. She likes Depeche Mode. No, the one with the anarchy symbols.

Jesus Christ you’ll get the clap from just sitting on the shitter in that dump. Fancy a cuppa?

Sure.

She hears a clatter of dishes, the sound of a kettle popped, running water.

You’re just a wee bairn, he says. What’re ya doing in a shithole like that, eh?

Listening to music, she replies, and trots out the lie she has prepared for nearly every stranger she meets: I’m eighteen.

If you’re eighteen, he snorts, then I’m bloody Methuselah.

Tired on being on the backfoot, she decides it’s time to grill him by seizing on his weird accent: You Irish?

He gasps. You wound me, child! Glaswegian, born and raised.

Sorry.

Trust me, I’ve been called worse. He carries an old wooden desk chair into the hallway and presents it to Gillian with a florid curtsy and she thinks of an old cartoon she saw with a bear pretending to be a butler. Thought ya should be comfortable, he says. Five minutes later he brings out a cup of tea, goes back into the apartment, and Gillian feels like she’s being set up for some Monty Python skit and a giant blancmange will come barreling down the hallway and smother her to death.

I’m assuming she wants to paint you, James calls out into the hallway.

Gillian squeaks. Me?

You’re pretty enough.

She paints? Then Gillian remembers: She’s in art school, numpty.

He sighs. There’s nothing more painful than a wasted compliment. O the fairer sex, thank heavens I don’t have to bother with you lot.

That was a compliment, then?

James laughs. Come inside, take a look. I have some of her paintings here. Her flat’s too bloody small for most of ’em.

Gillian hesitates.

I swear I’m not a rapist.

That is s-something a rapist would say.

Fair point, ya cheeky little bint.

He ignores her. She finishes the tea, frowns nervously into the empty cup until the curious embrace of fate wins out and she surrenders, wandering cautiously through the open door into his flat.

It is larger than expected. One half of it is sparse—mattress on floor, electric plate, small refrigerator—but a migration and density of objects creeps along the southern exposure: paints in containers and on brushes clustered in empty rusted coffee cans, the effect of it all pulls the eye to the canvases in various states of process that crowd and dominate the wall that they lean against.

The biggest canvas is the most colorful one, a painting unlike anything she has seen hung in dusty museums or anyone’s home. A landscape of the world on fire—swaths of red-orange-gold meltingly thick on a blue and lavender background, the brightness chasing a darkening violet blue to the very edge of the canvas, to where you imagine the night begins. Her eyes flicker among the alternating lines of drenched color and she marvels at how these individual, distinct lines come together into a thrilling whole, as the frames of a film coalesce into a single second of motion. Something else magically takes shape: A hauntingly familiar hatched stack of lines near the bottom of the painting, its identity confirmed with a 90-degree head tilt.

That’s the mill! she exclaims.

Yup, he says. As the title evinces.

There is a ribbon of rough white canvas at the painting’s bottom right. She kneels, and there it is, in a thin pencil scrawl almost too illegible to read: view of calder valley sunset no 27, the milll.

Oh.

He laughs not unkindly, his heavy, bearlike tread creaking the floorboards as he walks over to the painting.

It’s something, isn’t it? he murmurs, as if seeing the landscape for the first time. Folding his arms, he sighs with undisguised affection. Bitch has the nerve to paint better than me.

Another cup of tea and several biscuits later she’s so caught up in his conversation, his world—he talks of his hometown of Glasgow and its art history, Charles Rennie Mackintosh and symbolism and Art Nouveau, all while doodling on a large sketchpad and continually topping off his tea with scotch—that she almost doesn’t notice Julia walking in through the flat’s still-open door. Late afternoon sunlight cuts across the room and the artist herself rivals the startling beauty of her work—same Doc Martens, same leather jacket over a frayed linen blouse, and an old corduroy skirt, and Gillian receives confirmation that her hair is a rich russet brown and her eyes, filled with sunlight, are light hazel, sort of green-gold. The sum effect is that she is unlike any woman Gillian has ever encountered before, different than her classmates, her teachers, her mum’s friends.

She rests a hand feather-light on Gillian’s shoulder as if they’ve known each other forever and Gillian hears the delicate racketing of silver bracelets near her own ear, a click-click as if something is locking into place—oh happy prison, keep me here forever—and Julia says, in a voice flecked with a toff accent that Gillian hadn’t noticed the first time around, James, you’ve stolen my stray.

3. drink and dope and Derrida and Depeche Mode

Gillian starts coming round regularly. First it’s weekends, then a sprinkling of days during the week after school, casually dispersed just so that she doesn’t appear a desperate clinger-on. Sometimes there are up to a dozen or so people crammed in Julia’s tiny, tidy flat—apparently she uses James’s significantly larger space as a default studio—sitting around smoking, drinking, eating, getting high, and talking about books, music, art. Even though she is terrified of saying anything amongst this gaggle of university students and penniless artists—she still hasn’t recovered from the shame of enthusiastically admitting she liked Wordsworth—nonetheless she feels remarkably grown up and sophisticated and is mostly content to sit around and take it all in. Well, to take in the restless hostess at the very least: At these times Julia is always on the move, fetching drinks, talking, pacing, trying to get people to eat homemade protein bars or granola or disgustingly verdant smoothies.

She’s a bloody hippie, James always says. Talk a good game, pretends she’s a Wire fan or whatever, but you see, whenever she’s alone she’s making fucking granola and listening to Joni Mitchell.

That James knows what she’s like whenever she’s alone has, on more than one occasion, guiltily tied Gillian into knots of jealousy; it’s not until she drops in on him late one afternoon to find him hung-over all the way into bleary-eyed incoherence and with a scruffy, peroxide-blond punk boy in his bed that his particular intimacy with Julia all makes sense. Insofar as anything she feels, thinks, or sees nowadays makes sense.

It certainly doesn’t make sense, Gillian thinks, that after a night of drink and dope and Derrida and Depeche Mode—some in Julia’s circle had grudgingly copped to liking the band, which made her feel cool again—to make granola at four in the morning but by Christ they are doing it. Everyone is gone, including James, who has staggered back to his flat, and she watches as Julia scoops the cooled granola off a baking sheet, dump it into a bowl, and shove it under Gillian’s nose.

Try it, says Julia. Not the burnt parts, though.

Gillian grabs a nutty, sticky clump of the granola and pops it in her mouth. It’s sweet and warm, and she could easily down the whole bowl. It’s good, she says.

Bet you can’t taste the spirulina!

No, because I don’t know what the fuck that is.

Julia laughs and sits across from Gillian at the space-green Formica kitchen table, which, as she had proudly told Gillian, had been fished out of a dumpster—by James, of course. She stretches out long legs, flexes her bare feet. Gillian notices that the bottoms of her feet are grayish-pink from running around barefoot all night.

So, she drawls, my little foul-mouthed friend, my sweet and tender hooligan—

Am I really a hooligan?

Don’t sound so pleased, Gillian. You certainly like to talk that way, don’t you? But that’s not you, you’re smart. Can’t help but wonder, though, if you’re thinking ahead. Do you want to go to university?

My father wants me to work in insurance, Gillian replies with a shrug. Civil service, maybe.

Julia bursts into laughter.

No, really.

Why?

Because I—like helping people? Gillian speculates helplessly. Which is bollocks because the thought of actually dealing with people all day sets her teeth on edge. It’s because the old man wants her to work in some boring desk job that will keep her out of trouble.

But what do you want to do?

Julia asks her this question all the time. Because she’s so unaccustomed to anyone actually asking what she would like to do with her future, usually she just shrugs or changes the subject. But the late night, the cheap chianti, the joint has worn down her stroppy protective layer.

I don’t—don’t know, she says. Travel. Go to France. Maybe Netherlands, Rotterdam—Antje’s got family there, we talked about going someday.

You’re learning French. I saw it in your notebook.

Yeah. Thought maybe if I got good enough, I c-could be a translator. I could live and work anywhere, then.

You could, Julia says softly. She has a habit of gazing so intensely at Gillian, and for such seemingly long, uninterrupted intervals—half a minute seems eternity—that Gillian wants to tell her everything but then she stops and wonders if Julia is really seeing her and not an object in light and shadow, something to be committed to paper or canvas in paints and oils and pens, rendered useless and casually discarded in the process.

Gillian stares at the floor. Are you really going to paint me? she mumbles.

You don’t want me to, do you?

With a don’t-give-a-fuck shrug, Gillian redirects her look at the kitchen wall, where there is a worn and torn film poster of Cocteau’s Orphée, and gnaws futilely at a hangnail.

I don’t usually paint figures. People. She pauses. Well, not anymore. Thought I was never good at it. But James said I should try again, and figurative work, that’s his thing—he’s so good he caught the eye of Lucian Freud, you know. So when I saw you, I thought you might—inspire me.

Me?

You’ve got a good face. An interesting face. Mark my words, there’s more beauty in character than anything you’ll see in a bloody magazine or on telly.

Gillian feels a blush coursing up her body, from chest to neck and further, and as the tips of her ears tingle, she blurts out, You should paint Antje. She’s way prettier than me. She’s beautiful. I mean, she’s, she’s like a painting come to life anyway. Like a, a Botticelli or whatever.

Why would I want to paint a painting? Julia grins teasingly. You sound like you’re in love with her.

No. I mean, I love her—she’s my best friend.

I like her. Bring her round again.

Nah. She’s too busy shagging this guy she met, he’s in a band.

Not that horrible Joy Division cover band? Julia is aghast.

Gillian’s silence confirms it.

They laugh.

Then, sighing, Julia looks out the window. Jesus Christ, it’s nearly dawn.

My parents will be freaking out.

You can call them. James has a phone—you could dash over and use it. Nothing will wake him now.

Gillian shakes her head. Fuck them.

Julia doesn’t push. She rises, relights the joint she’s been working on most of the night, and starts puttering about clearing up the party mess while Joni Mitchell plays jazzy and low in the background.

But you know I’m so glad to be on my own—

Calder Valley sunrise seems less spectacular compared to the painting of its sunset. Gillian stands near the kitchen window and she’s just tired and high enough—and crashing ever so slightly—to imagine that the pastel cresting of dawn over the tops of the buildings is a painting, something created in the vapid studio of her unimaginative mind. Absently she nibbles at her fingernails again and tastes the smoky bitterness from a joint on her fingers and amidst the layered bass that rolls through her like blood and the jangling guitar, Julia lifts the hair away from the nape of Gillian’s neck and kisses her there.

Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger Can set up trembling in my bones

Is this okay? she whispers.

I know no one’s going to show me everything We all come and go unknown Each so deep and superficial Between the forceps and the stone

Gillian is afraid to say yes, even more afraid to say no. She touches Julia’s hand, which rests on her hip—a tentative signal, a flashing warning light to go slow. Hejira means journey, this much she has learned from puzzling endlessly over Joni Mitchell. But there’s no telling what the point of the journey is or where it will end up. But this morning it takes her to this woman’s bed, where she’s stripped down blank and naked as a new canvas. Her partially clad, fumbling fucks with Robbie—and a couple others—did not prepare her for the wholesale vulnerability of being like this in someone’s bed. For appraisal with sight and words and where the hot greed of her response is tempered with a thousand kinds of touches and kisses, a sweet hell of foreplay where the ache created by the slightest contemplation of forever dwells—she knows it now and will never, ever forget it because it is here that she learns how to beg without regret.

Slow and gentle, Julia parts her legs and studies her cunt as closely as her face or any other part of her body; it is impossible to know within the fine, feathered interleaves of aesthetics and desire where the artist’s detachment ends and the lover’s appreciation begins.

L’origine du monde—the origin of the world, she says. It’s a painting. By Courbet. Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you. She sighs. Christ. You are really lovely and I can’t help myself.

Gillian manages one last final, whispered please before it begins. The immersive shock of someone going down on her for the first time sends her shivering into a sublime state of frightening pleasure. She can’t relax, can’t enjoy it. Like diving, an innate instinct for self-preservation mingles with the exhilaration. But with slow persistence, and a couple soothing breaks—take a breath, love—she comes.  

Later, an impasto of fickle November sun and shadows marks the prints on the bedroom wall—a Georgia O’Keefe, and the pink flag of the Wire poster flutters a good-morning kiss—dapples their tangled limbs, and underneath her head her new lover’s heart marks time in a steady swishing beat, like an oar hitting water, while she breathes in the happiness of a moment that she never wants to end.

Maybe I’ll take you to France, girl, Julia murmurs before falling asleep.

4. the forceps and the stone

On the day of her 44th birthday Gillian takes her usual solitary, celebratory ramble and finds herself in Leeds, in the city’s beautiful main library and on the brink of an unavoidable chasm into the past. Prominently on display, as thick and large as a cutting board or even the bloody registry for Westminster Abbey, is a mammoth coffee table-type book called Contemporary Scottish Artists and she thinks of James for the first time in God knows how many years. The spine makes a tiny creak of protest when she opens it and she shoots a panicked look at the librarian, who is pretending not to watch her. She finds him listed in the index, and there is his work on page 457: a soft-lined impressionist pastel sketch of a handsome, fair-haired man sitting on a park bench beside the name JAMES HEATH ADAIR, the sprawl of his life contained within parentheses: (1958–2007). Nearly thirty years ago she had cried in his lap, face pressed into dirty, paint-stippled chinos, while he soothed her with hair-stroking and platitudes over the impossibilities of first love and helplessly, stupidly quoted Nick Lowe at her—you’ve got to be cruel to be kind—in order to justify his best friend’s sudden and permanent decampment to her native London.

Now she struggles, and fails, not to cry in front of the librarian who frowns openly at her, ready to give her the boot should salty tears mar the glossy pages of their fancy new book.

It takes another year to summon forth courage to look up Julia; the convenience of finally having a computer at home, after she scrounges up enough money to buy Raff a decent one for school use, affords her all the stealth and privacy required for this niggling, fortuitous task. Late one night, the shit internet connection somehow tremendously improved by three glasses of wine, she googles Julia and finds photos of a professor living in northern California with closely cropped gray-white hair and wearing glasses—here is the book she co-edited called Methods and Modalities in Art Education, and here is a photo of her in a studio wearing worn denim with a bandana at her throat, the same throat Gillian kissed fewer times than she wanted, here are hands that fucked and caressed in a black and white photo, caught in broad gesticulations as Julia stands in front of a class wearing a plain white blouse and a spangled necklace, here is her wry half-smile and Gillian wonders how many students have fallen for that smile and that seductive line about Courbet, and here is the reacquaintance of loss nestling soft and wild against her, here is its gentle unpredictability, here is loss begetting loss, and here she falls asleep on the couch after another few glasses of wine and thinking, I always knew you would end up in California.

Even though she drifts off to a vision of California cliffs and coasts, her unconscious mind teems with recollections of Eddie: Nearly two years after Julia left Hebden Bridge she ran into him on the main drag in Ripponden, where she’d gone looking for a summer job.

He’s alone, leaning against the old Corvair that Robbie claimed they’d rebuilt together, but later Eddie tells her he did it all himself because Robbie is a fuckwit. He’s just as beautiful as she remembers, tall and golden-haired, broad-shouldered and square-jawed, wearing a dark blue Fred Perry polo and a pair of Ray Bans. As she approaches, he grins. This close she notices his teeth, two crazy paths of crowded, crooked enamel. It releases him from the burden of perfection, from the fantasy that existed in her mind. It places him within her reach. He hoots with self-conscious laughter and shyly ducks his head, like James Dean in Giant confronted with and confounded by the mere presence of Elizabeth Taylor. When he removes the Ray-Bans and finally looks at her, she is lost to him.

chapter soundtrack:

“Digital,” Joy Division 

“Reap the Wild Wind,” Ultravox 

“Hejira,” Joni Mitchell

“California,” Joni Mitchell 

[ikonislife]

Always Mine.

- Hanbin x Reader (ft. Monsta X’s Shownu)

- Requested part 3 to Just Go and Please Stay 

- Angst, fluff 

-This is it folks, the last installment of this monstrosity. It only took me 7 months to finish (sorry guys, I lost inspiration for it somewhere in the middle) I’m glad to be able to finish it. Even though it’s not one of the more popular posts I have, I’ve invested a lot of time into the trilogy so I sincerely hope you all enjoy at least some part of this insane journey. Thank you for reading. As always, feedbacks are welcome.

- Despite being the one to initiate the break up, Hanbin finds himself lost without you. All the while, the return of your past life poses an imminent threat that Hanbin knows all too well might be the end of you and him forever.

Endless streams of clouds floating pass the small window of the private jet fast steading, tearing through the golden rosy sunset sky. Leaning back into the white leather seat, Hanbin nurses the second glass of whatever the hell it was he had grabbed out of the bar in the blur between boarding and stumbling to his seat. He couldn’t really care about anything but you at this moment what’s with the strange cryogenic state your relationship is in as you laid silently in the hospital alone. Whatever could take his throbbing mind off the obvious state of the stale relationship he had ruined will works, nothing seems to matter to him anymore. Watching the amber liquid swirling around the crystal clear pieces of ice, condensation rolling down the crystal glass, old memories flood his senses much more bitter than the taste of poison on his tongue. Against better judgement of the throbbing headache that screams for him to take rest, he let himself drown in the ghost of your memories.

It wasn’t too long after he was abled to call you girlfriend that you had gotten a big promotion at work. To commemorate the occasion and a small reward for your hard work, he took you on a surprise weekend getaway on his jet. The wonder filling your eyes, the cute random questions you’d ask, your curiosity, all if it delighted his excited heart.

“Wait babe, you mean all this time you took business trip, it’s this plane?” You stared around in awe of every tiniest details. Sure you had been in first class on trips with your own company so a bar on the plane isn’t anything new. However, he got a freaking chandelier, a damn chandelier in the stupid plane. If that doesn’t scream extravagant, you were sure you didn’t know what would. 

Your amazement found itself landing on the large leather couch, white just as the rest of the interior and no doubt as heavenly as the one in the living room of his more than spacious house. Hanbin had teasingly winked, whispering sultrily, hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, something about mile-high club and bed when you had stumbled pass it earlier while boarding. Too wrapped up in your own amazement of the overwhelming sight, you hadn’t paid much attention to his words until now. A giant burst of heat and steam erupted on your face the second your brain clicked onto what he had meant, your face redden, way worse than the reddening sky outside.

“Hmm, what’s wrong? I thought you knew?” He peered down at your half amused half impressed expression with just a hint of embarrassment. He caught your pouty lips in his, moulding them perfectly against each other.

“I don’t know.” You giggled hard at the slender fingers prodding at your side. “The thought you of waiting so so “patiently” in line through security, then to get on the plane, then through custom is kind of funny.” Your little air quote gesture pulled a hearty laugh from Hanbin, his eyes lighted up in delight just as it always did from your random little antic. “Now I know why you never minded long trips. You practically brought the comfort of home along with you.”

“Why? cause you think I can’t be patient? I’m offended.” His brows furrowed, his lips pursed in feigned anger but his eyes gave it all away - way too cute to be angry.

“Hey, you say that. Not me. Come on, babe. You were like fuming the other night when we had to wait in line for those donuts you called stupid then ate half the box in one sitting.” 

“Because it IS just some stupid donut. Why do I have to wait in line for that? I could have my chef makes better one for y-” His voice trailed off, expression immediately ceased up at your smugly smirk. Suddenly his words failed him as he scratched his head awkwardly, eyes stared longingly out the passing clouds avoiding your victorious giggle.

“Mmhmm… patient huh?” You flushed your body tight against his, fingers intertwining, seeking for warmth and security. Glancing back at the couch once again, you were sudden very aware of his every movement, from the way he’s rubbing up and down your arms to the soft breath steaming up the skin of your neck. Heat rushing, this burning all over your body as you struggled to keep the stableness in your lungs. “Hanbin, uh… you weren’t serious about the couch being a bed right?” You questioned, trying your best to keep your heart steady although you had an idea he knew you were far from calm from the way he stole that smirk right off your face. No doubts by now he had already felt the erratic drumming of your heart. The devilish mark of his playful side returned, replacing the puppy eyes and pouty lips as he knew once again, he was in full control.

“You’ll see…” He whispered simply before hoisting you up toward the piece of furniture in question. “Just to clarify, I can’t always have comfort of home at my disposal because this cute girl I call girlfriend always refuses to go on business trips with me.”

Everything was adorable in his eyes. You spent most of the rest of the flight staring out the window while snuggling up to his chest, forgotten completely about the objection of him wasting so much money celebrating something as lame as a promotion. You had always felt pale in comparison to your multimillionaire talented CEO boyfriend. What is a measly promotion in contrast with him holding a whole thriving empire under the tips of his fingers. What you didn’t know was his chest swell in pride for being able to love someone so determined, so hard working. Every little achievement, every tiny accomplishment would be a big deal in his eyes and he loves boasting about you any chance he gets.

Something about recalling the past had put a grumble in his stomach, Hanbin stands up stretching his legs before moving toward the small bar hoping for food. A slight upward curve of the lips still prominent on the worn out face sensing the sudden lift in the heaviness of the atmosphere from the sheer remembrance of you alone. He can’t wait to be back next to your side, to hold your hand, to recharge himself. Ultimately, he just wants to be there to ensure your safety once you’re awaken.

Bracing from the unexpected turbulent induced jerk, he sends paperwork that had been resting so peacefully on the small table flying through the air. A strange white envelope that resembles nothing of what could be work related catches his eyes as it lands with a force beyond impact of mere paper. His brows furrow in utter befuddlement before raising high from the way his eyes lit up in anticipation. Lily had given it to him before the trip along with a cryptic message bout urgent matter of the heart. Could it be that after all this time, you finally decided to break down his wall with the full force of your heart… He could only hope whatever lies in the carefully seal paper pouch would set his soul free. He had been waiting far too long for your frustration to settle and setting your feisty self ablaze, bursting into his office demanding a face to face. He knew it wasn’t a possibility but a boy could dream. 

His fingers hesitate, a soft smile blooming as he soak in the bends and curves spelling out his name. He wouldn’t mistake it anywhere. He spent hours obsessing over how neat your writing was compare to his. You had complained for the umpteenth time about the chicken scratch he actually expect his subordinate to decipher when he, out of frustration, challenged you to do better. Sitting back down, food pushed to the back of his mind, mess of paper neglected, his finger nimbly tear open the envelope with great care. 

“My dear Hanbin, I hope you’ve been well in my absent. You’ve always work way too hard and never bother with taking time for yourself. It worries me a great deal that I swear I lost 5 years off my lifespan. Now that I can no longer pester you to eat, promise me you’ll eat on time (and not junk food. You have personcal chefs, please put them to work). Please, find it in your heart to sleep once in awhile. I know, I know, the great vampire Hanbin knows no sleep but just try. It’s fun! Since I am no longer cluttering up all your time, it should free up a whole lotta time for these mundane activities that God-Hanbin deemed unworthy. You know, you have to assimilate to us normal folks at some point, don’t just sit in your great office all lonely. Eating, sleeping, going to yearly check up, have some fun, watch a movie, go shopping, meeting friends, hit up the club sometimes, all these things might seem small but they go a long way. Don’t worry, you look way too ethereal to be of this world, people will still know you’re heaven sent even if you do the things us normal folks do. Take a rest, the sun will rise and the world will still spin round tomorrow. Promise me you’ll do all of that so my heart can rest easy.”

Always with the praising and the subtle sarcasm, he chuckles at your seemingly delightful word despite nearly losing yourself pinning after someone as worthless as he is. Within the highs of laughter induced by your joke, a hidden sadness lurks in the shadows of the twists and turns of your written thoughts. It was almost as though you were writing final, farewell words. Words that will neatly wrap up the greatest chapter in his life, put a bow on the last bit of lingering hope in both yours and his eyes.

“I guess next comes the hard part now that the jokes are out of the way. I want to apologize for intruding back into your life when you had made it clear I was no longer welcome. You must understand, I was desperate to know of your wellbeing. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you’re hurting. It’s been a hell of a couple years with you in my life. I’m undeniably happier when you’re near and I hope you know that. You shined light in the darkest corner of my life, in ways I didn’t think was possible. You know, when I met you, not in a million year would I have thought you’d honor me by letting me share your life in such an intimate way. I would’ve choose to be with you million times over even if every single time I’d end up in heartbreaks. Don’t be sad, please. I know you wouldn’t hurt me if it wasn’t necessary because you’re a man of reason. Is it safe to say that you were at least in love with me when you made this decision? I also know you like to blame yourself for everything, even if it’s inevitable. I’m fine, love. I understand. Don’t blame yourself, don’t wallow in guilt, alright?”

The tear he had thought dried up from so many nights sulking in his own self loathe  burst out like a stream, soaking his Sahara liked soul, begins to meander its way down his pale cold skin stinging every bit, every cell. He couldn’t find the strength to continue but he must. He misses you too much to part way with the thought you had so wonderfully written down for him. He will adore this the way he had everything else you’ve done even if it’s excruciatingly painful. Maybe, just maybe somewhere in the heartfelt lines, you’ll help him move on too.

“You’ve inspired me to smile at adversities and face my problems head on. I used to take your wise words for granted but now that I can no longer confide in your vast wisdom, I suddenly find myself lost? I don’t know how I’ll make it through hardship without your encouragement and advices but perseverance is key right? 

Thank to you, I’m a better person. I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. Thank you for one of the best chapter of my life. Thank you for letting me share a piece of history with someone as wonderful as you are. Thank you for loving me. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said and all the things I should’ve said but didn’t. I wish you all the happiness in the world, happiness I couldn’t give you. I’m elated to see that you’ve found someone to entrust with your love once again. I must say she’s very exquisite. I hope she can make you feel like the only man in the world. I promise I’ll leave now so you can rebuild your life. Don’t worry about me. Hyunwoo had been taking excellent care of me and I thank you for bringing him back into my life. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Please, tell your parents I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to them in person. I love them so much and thank you for allowing me to be part of the family even if it’s just for a little while. Tell your sister I’m sorry I can’t take her to Disneyland for her birthday. I’m sure you and your lady will be able to take care of that.

I won’t lie to you and say I’m not having a rough time. How could I not parting way from my heaven sent best friend and my everything. I will miss you so much. 

Please allow me to say this one last time. My wonderful Hanbin, I love you. I will always love you. I hope we can meet as friends as we once were in the future.”

Leaning back onto the chair that barely seems to be able to support his sadness, Hanbin sighs dejectedly, a bitter chuckle breaches the corner of his lips. You were back with Hyunwoo after all. All his fear had been realized.

He lost you.

A sudden anger arises at the mention of your new love, or rather true love. Where the hell was he that you’ve been suffering all this time, all alone. He was supposed to make sure you’re safe. He was supposed to make sure you’re happy. All the days Hanbin spent by your side in the hospital, not once did Hyunwoo show up. Rage flashes, spreading like a brush fire in dry season, Hanbin slam his fist onto the small table before tearing away for another drink, already going against your words of taking care of himself.

It had been a mere 12 hours since Hanbin arrived to his destination but the anxiety of being separate from you already begin to surface, itching and aching through every inch of his body. It itches but when he reached out to scratch it dissipates, radiating out like an internal burn. It was nowhere but everywhere at once. There was no particular source of it he could sooth, no visible marks, just intense discomfort all throughout. Perhaps this grief with Hyunwoo for not taking care of his girl, Hanbin’s girl, properly pushes him just a little bit further over the edge than usual.

Deals signed in record time, even his own assistants couldn’t believe the aggressiveness of thousand lions pouring out from their own boss.  He has no time to waste, no mind left to spare to entertain the pompous old man sitting across the table from him, all he wants now is to return home to the quietness of your hospital room, to the little niche he had made with you even if the imminent date of your awakening looms ahead like a great storm. He even finds himself missing the vexing beeps of your heart monitor. if he’s really honest, he had found solace in once again be able to listen to your heartbeat even if it wasn’t by pressing his face close to your chest while reveling in the pleasure of your soft hand carding through his jet black hair. 

Waiting impatiently in the rooftop cafe of his hotel, his foot taps to some random rhythm that seems to take the surface layer of the aching that resulted from missing you away, just a surface scratch. He gazes upon the spotless black sky dirtied with the city light, wishing hard to turn back time to that summer night spent making love to you under the stars. 

Oh what a summer that was. You had allowed him to take you to the furthest corner of your comfort zone, entrusting him wholeheartedly in all the crazy ventures he suggested even barely a few months into your young bud of a relationship. You both pushed your own limits to extents neither of you had before, physically and emotionally. You let him depended on your comforting embrace and cuddles like an abandoned puppy finally finding a permanent home to rest his weary mind, chipped away by a world he never truly belonged in. In return, he helps you get lost through his low grunts and your own moans of highs that only Hanbin could provide. He sighs out in satisfaction as his senses recall the ways you let him touched you, hold you. Ways that let him know you had given yourself fully to him, obeying his every word, drinking in every pass of his fingers. 

Perhaps the most memorable of all would be the hours laid under the bursting galaxy above that was so magnificent without getting stained by the city’s lights, bodies sticky with sweat, mind drunk amongst the depth of your post coital chat. Neither of you really minded that just bellow the thin cover, both your bodies were dirtied in the best way possible as he held you close to his chest. You spilled your heart and soul to which he reciprocated with everything he got, every secret he held, even the most intimate that had never taken a breath before that night. With each graze of your index along his soft skin, he felt himself sink further into this reality where only you and him exist. The money, being CEO, the pain of the past, none of those things matter when in this moment he had you safely by his side. 

God how he wishes to be able to call out to you just one more time. He just wants to hear the delight in your voice when you answer, the sparks in your eyes, the way your lips curve up without you even needing to command them to at his utterance of a simple “baby”. It’s such a simple wish. He’s not asking to be immortal or to be forever rich, he’s only asking for his baby girl back. Why couldn’t the universe just grant him this one simple wish. What good is all of his money and power for if he can’t even keep you safe and by his side. 

Just then, anguish in all the empty wishing upon millions of stars, he suddenly found another emotion coursing through his vein. An emotion so primal that perhaps he could argue it was born when man was created - anger.  Out of the corner of his eyes appear the source of all his unpleasantness, like a predator, with a growl, he pounces on his prey.

“Hanbin, What the fuc-”

Before the tall boy could say anything, Hanbin already had him by the collar. Dragging Hyunwoo toward the staircases, Hanbin ignores the fact that Hyunwoo has several inches over himself, that his body packing way more muscles, that if he really wanted to, Hyunwoo could put him down with one punch. He left behind a young woman, very pretty Hanbin had to admit, although nowhere near your beauty. Panic stricken on her previously content features, dainty hand covering her mouth in pure shock. Her other hand grasping onto Hyunwoo desperately, lips whispering his name like a prayer. With all his might, Hyunwoo yanks away pressing a soft kiss onto the sun kissed skin of her cheek before grinning as if to let her know it was okay. She nods in return, eyes near tearing at this point but she stepped back, letting go of the needy grasp on his arm. Hyunwoo once again let Hanbin drags him off to a secluded corner before feeling himself being slam against the wall.

“She’s dying in the hospital yet you’re oversea, flirting with some girl. I thought you were better than this Hyunwoo.” He rages, wishing he could pummel the shit out of the cheater. He gave up his whole life, whole world so you and Hyunwoo could have another shot at happiness. Yet here the bastard was, smiling, arm in arm with someone else. He wonders if the girl even knew the man she’s so affectionately snuggling up to has a girlfriend, immobile all alone in the hospital bed. Or maybe she just doesn’t care.

“What in the world are you saying, Hanbin. I don’t understand.” Baffles, all Hyunwoo could do is stammers in confusion. If it wasn’t for the hand he has against Hanbin’s chest pushing him away, Hyunwoo was sure he’d soon pass out from the constricting hands Hanbin has on the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t play dumb, asshole. I didn’t break up with her so you can treat her like shit. How could you hurt her like that.” Hanbin seethes at Hyunwoo’s apparent ignorant. No longer were blood coursing through his veins but rather boiling hot magma. Hanbin could feel every inch of his body going numb from the heat of rage and no one can stop him now.  

“HANBIN. how dare you.” Hyunwoo snarls back at the ridiculous accusation. He had remained un-bias up till this point. He could understand why Hanbin decided on such stupidity. It’s action of a fool so deep in love he has gone borderline irrational. The hidden rage was well masked by an unsettling calmness he didn’t even think he could keep up with.  After all, how could he not feel the slightest tinge of fury when he practically watched his best friend break down, reduced to a mere shell without a soul by an idiot that claimed to love her.

“I could ask you the same thing. You broke her heart and left her on the side of the road like yesterday news. I was there for her the past two months. Where the hell were you?” a strong prod from Hyunwoo’s finger found itself onto Hanbin’s chest, no doubt marking it with all the bitterness Hyunwoo felt watching you cried. “You think you’re a saint now that you “sacrifice” your relationship? Please, give me a break. I’m starting to think I made a mistake telling her to fight for you.” Hyunwoo shoves the angry man in front of him off , not even realizing how much strength he was exerting out of pure discomfort from having heard such preposterous things being said about himself. Nothing could make your usually calm and collect teddy bear happier now than landing a fist right across Hanbin’s face but he knew you wouldn’t like it so two months worth of pent up frustration went onto the wall behind Hanbin’s head instead. He had been siding with Hanbin for so long that he forgotten about the first reaction, the first emotion he had seeing you slumped over on your front door step that night. Pure white hot rage. “You shitty ass excuse for a boyfriend. Are you even a fucking man? You broke her heart but you couldn’t see her off properly? You couldn’t even take her home yourself? You had your assistant dragged her away like trash? Not even a goddamn proper explanation. Give me one reason right now to not kill you.” Hyunwoo had never been more glad for his grand stature than now as he hover over Hanbin with all the intimidation he could musters up.

Fist shaking in the air, Hanbin’s anger manifests itself before his senses overcome, dropping the would be punch out of confusion at the strange sentence. Letting his rival off, Hyunwoo backs away, brows furrow in an effort to decipher the expression on Hanbin’s face.

“Wait. What do you mean you told her to fight for me?”

“The girl was dying over missing you, dumbass. She kept questioning herself, saying that she wasn’t good enough. She thinks you were over her and uses me as an escape plan. Don’t make me regret all those night I spent convincing her that you still love her.” 

Dumbfounded, Hanbin crashes his weight onto the railing of the cold metal staircase. Both men stood there in silent, nothing but panting could be heard as they both try their best to collect themselves. Clearly, a big misunderstanding is afoot and neither of them are stupid enough to not realize so. Hyunwoo watches as Hanbin murmurs like a madman incoherent jumbles of “but she said” and “no, that’s not right” before he cuts him off, shaking his shoulders to snap him back to reality.

“Listen to me, she fucking wants you. Not me. We spent two months together, every single night. Every oversea trip I took, she was right there in the hotel room with nothing but thin air separating our bodies. Trust me when I say if there is something between us, it would’ve happen already.” Hyunwoo sighs. How could he not have seen this, it’s so you to pull some sort of stun like this. He leans back, shoulders resting against the cold wall feeling the exhaustion of the day pouring out. “I’ve moved on, Hanbin. That girl you’re accusing me of cheating on Y/n with, her name is Ella. She has been my personal assistant for the past 2 years, ever since I got promoted. She was the first person I had truly loved after Y/n but you know, moving on from someone like Y/n is a hell of a fucking feat.” He chuckles at the way your eyes sparks with delight when you realized the way Hyunwoo look at Ella, the same stare you felt all those years ago. He near had to throw you over his shoulders and run away when you had threaten to spill his secret after he failed to confess for the 3rd time.  “She has been helping me making a move on her for a good month now. They actually had became pretty good friends. I get so scare every time they hide in the corner and giggling about lord knows what. God know where I’d be if she hadn’t pep talked me the whole way through. Before I left, she schemed a plan for me and it worked. I’m with Ella, Hanbin. We’re official. I have a girlfriend and it’s not Y/n.” Hyunwoo’s visage finally soften at the sheer utter shock breaking upon Hanbin’s pale face like dawn over a new day.

“WHAT?! but the way you talked about her that one time we met. Even that first time we saw you…” Hanbin could remembers that night clear at day. He had always felt guilty for swooping in on your vulnerable state but that night, that night was the last crack in his iceberg of selfishness. Hyunwoo stood there, stoic and silent but behind those kind droopy eyes, Hanbin could see a man in pain. A man that just witness his could be wife walked off with another man. What he couldn’t predict was the fact that Hyunwoo had been struggling with moving on for so long that in a rush of relief and nostalgia, he suddenly found himself lost. Lost in the flurry of the past, in the pain, and in guilts. All 3 years worth of emotion suddenly flushed back mixing with the pain of leaving and the guilt of moving on. Hyunwoo cried tears of what, he didn’t even know. All he knew was his heart was finally light watching the genuine smile on your face as you stared into Hanbin’s eyes. He knew Hanbin is your endgame. 

“We spent 3 years together as a couple, there will always residual feelings, nostalgia. Nothing will ever take that away. She was once my whole life and I was hers. Do you really think we could ever get rid of such important people in our lives just with the ticks of time? We still love each other…” Hyunwoo mulls over the word carefully, watching the way Hanbin’s expression twists up in pain, elated that his words affect the poor boy greatly. Not in a menacing way, of course, just in a way to see if this man in front of him is really worth your time and love. If he ever had doubts about Hanbin’s love for you, this anguish emanating from the ghost pale boy upon hearing the sentence “we still love each other” would be enough to dispel it all. If he even has any doubt to begin with. “…just not in the way you think we do. You don’t even know how glad I was to know she has you. You treated her million time better than I could ever have, ever will. You need to get over this true love bullshit. We’re not five watching Disney movies anymore. Happily ever after is what you make with the person you love, the person that love you. It’s not some ultimate god given will, alright? I thought Y/n was my heaven sent piece of forever but look at where we are. Ella is my forever now and you’re Y/n’s. Don’t fuck it up. Hyunwoo stares at Hanbin with those soft understanding eyes although to outsider, the way he’s raking his rough hand through his perfectly made hair would say otherwise. “I couldn’t admit to myself that I’ve moved on. I couldn’t bring myself to accept that I love someone other than her but Y/n, she has her way of bringing closure to everything. Judging from your tormented state, she did it to you too, didn’t she?” 

“She wrote me a letter. Wishing me well and pretty much said you two got b-back together.” Even saying it now pains Hanbin. Sure he had seen you snuggled up to Hyunwoo back in the days of his secret one sided crush. He’d smile every time you pressed a gentle kiss on Hyunwoo’s cheek, hoping someday he’ll be lucky enough to meet someone that’s never ashamed of showing her love so publicly. Deep down, he knew he had already met that person, just at a very wrong time. He was disappointed of course but what could he have done. You’ve been with Hyunwoo for almost 3 years when you bulldozed him over onto the cold pavement. Sometimes he had wondered what would happened if that fateful day just 3 years earlier. Now, now that he had a taste of how wonderful, how gloriously addicting your love could be, just the thought of Hyunwoo comforting you burns every millimeter of his body.

“She’s lying. She’s been miserable as hell. What funny is she actually think she could hide it from me, puts up a happy front. I could give her temporary comfort but long term, it’s all you man.  Whatever it is you did that makes her think she has no chance of getting back with you. I don’t care what it is but if she lies, she did it so you’re not burden with the weight of knowing she’s hurting over missing you. I’ve been dropping her off at your work and picking her up for awhile now. I never thought she’d put herself in harm way like that. I’ve been oversea on a business trip for over a week now so I told her not to go by herself but she didn’t listen. Stubborn as a bull, that one is.” Hyunwoo’s words trail off at the thought of your steel liked mind and judging from the small chuckle falling off of Hanbin’s lips, he agrees.  “My other assistant told me she’s in the hospital. I was ready to fly back, dropped all my meeting actually, but I was informed she’s in very good hands.”

At this, Hyunwoo place a firm squeeze on Hanbin’s shoulder with a small understanding smile. Hanbin cards through his hair, blaming himself for being so stupid as to not see through your lies. It’s so you to pull a stunt like that. You had always put him before yourself.

“God… What the fuck is happening, man. I, I just don’t understand how she could pushed herself that far off the edge. If I hadn’t followed her that day…”

“But you did. And you caught her. Like always, you caught her when she needed you most. That’s what important. Look, I know the kind of person you are. You don’t do things without reason. And while I appreciate your concern for my love life, you really should’ve talk to both of us before sending her away like that. You know how she is, man. She’d rather sacrifice herself than have harm comes our ways. That’s her biggest flaw to be honest, she’s too kind to us shitty men.” Hanbin nods in agreement, sniffles grew loud in the relief the clear of all the storm clouds that had been plaguing his mind for much too long.

“I fucked up really bad, Hyunwoo. I don’t know if I can make things right. God, I wish I ran into you sooner.”

“Do right by her. Start over and beg for forgiveness. She been through enough, it’s time for her to be happy. We’ve both fucked up her life majorly. I missed my chance of making things right years ago but you still got plenty of time. I really want to thank you, for taking care of her after I left. I haven’t seen her so happy talking about anyone in such a long time.” He wasn’t lying. Hyunwoo knows better than to compare the love you have for Hanbin to the love you had for himself. Yet he still has to man up and admits that Hanbin is really your happiness from the way your eyes sparkles recalling all the good time.

“A fair warning. She’s not exactly herself lately so she will give you a hard time especially if she misunderstand your intention but persevere. Go to her, she needs you.” Using the line of text that Hanbin used to send Hyunwoo your way, Hyunwoo finally got his chance to repay your love and kindness by sending Hanbin back into your arms. Walking away with a deeper understanding of each other, Hanbin and Hyunwoo spent hours that night talking about the delights you brought to their lives. How someone so small could impacted their lives in such monumental ways. They talk well into the morning, all the way till Hanbin got the call he had been anticipating.

“Hanbin ah, she’s awake!” His mom excitingly exclaiming over and over again through the phone. Hanbin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First Hyunwoo gave him the best course of action of his life and now you’re awake. He feels like he had just won the lottery 3 times over. Both men of your life broke down into tears at the wonderful news, overjoy that you were back in their lives once more. Hyunwoo parts way but not without a giant hug to which Hanbin more than welcome. 

“Alright, I better check on Ella. She got so freaked out when you dragged me off.” Hyunwoo lingers at the doorway, basking in light of the newly formed friendship.

“Tell her I’m so sorry and I’ll make it up to you both. You know, you better save me a seat at your wedding. The way you gushed about her for the past 4 hours, I can already hear wedding bells.” Hanbin jokes with a supporting slap to Hyunwoo’s broad shoulder. Elates in the way the older boys blushing so intensely at the thought.

“You know what, I better be freaking best man at yours and Y/n’s. I mean, I think I had a pretty big part in this future holy matrimony, don’t you think? At least godfather to your first born? Yes?” Hyunwoo retorts sassily, earning a big shove from Hanbin as he saunters off down the winding hallway.

“Yea, yea. Get back to your lady before she thinks I killed you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight and good luck!” Both men wave each other off into their love ventures, hopeful that no matter the process, only happy endings await especially with the gain of a new friend in each other.

Awaken cold and alone, you summon all your strength into a futile attempt of sitting up only to come crashing down moments later. The loud thud stirs awake a sleepy Mrs. Kim slumping in the couch still hold the scent of her son whom spent nights wasting away to that rhythmic beeps. You grunt loudly, fingers move to yank away the constricting wire in a daze of confusion. Why were you attach to so many things, where the hell is this place. Your whimpers and whines grow loud as frustration settles in. Tears breaching the brim of your eyes, you nearly scream when a small gentle hand comes to caress your nappy locks.

“It’s okay… You’re safe. You’re safe.”

His mom repeats the small chant, each word eats at your nervous heart and unsettling mind until your hands drop away willingly, letting her soft dainty hand put everything back in place.

“Mrs. Kim? Wh- How?”

“None of that matter right now, okay? Rest and get healthy. My pretty daughter shouldn’t worry about anything right now. Focus on getting better.”

“I-” You couldn’t even get a single syllable out before the soft shushing of a concern mother hushes your anxiety back to sleep.

“Shh. Rest, I’m going to get the doctor okay?”

You nod, feeling the steel weight of your lids closing down on your vision… Whatever, however you get here will have to wait.

The second he landed, Hanbin mind tunneling in on the fastest route back to you. Knowing your heart, he can now confidently open his arms to embrace you back in his life. Nearly knocking over every person in the usually cold drab path that suddenly doesn’t seems so cold anymore. That stale yellow wall lining the way to his temporary home seems to be bursting with sunshine as he storms into your room with a loud bang of the door to only find it empty. Tottering toward the vacant bed, his lost eyes could still make out the hospital bag Lily and Jane had packed for you beside the nightstand. You’re definitely still here. The sun shining joyously matching his mood as he runs a hand over the bundled up blanket draping precariously over the edge, pulling it neatly back to where it should be. The sun’s rays dance upon the room, giving it a big burst of colorful joy to the usual quiet room. Set on his way to find you, his footsteps halt as the disheartening sight of a twinkle of gold caught his eyes. You were nowhere to be found but the necklace holding your ring left behind, lonely on the night stand.

Speeding back into the hallway, he clutches the ring close to his heart hoping you were just wandering around nearby. He suddenly finds himself smiling at the strange habit of yours, always wandering off the second he turns his back. He could still remember all the panic he had the first few months of being with you when one second you were clinging onto his hand, the next disappeared into thin air. Growing up as the heir to a big enterprise, he had always been taught to be cautious, to be aware so needless to say the carefree spirit you possess to think it was completely normal to jog down the street to pet a dog without a care in the world isn’t something he was used to. He’d always get worried sick but never angry with you, just sigh in relief the second he spotted your figure hovering over someone’s dog or staring into a cafe to check the menu.

A few minutes of frantically searching, his eyes soften at the familiar back and tousles of messy hair in the distance soaking in the warmth of the sun. Steps slowed down, he carefully approaches, mulling over his opening line with great care because honestly, this could be the happiest day of his life or the day where he loses you all over again. Sitting down onto the next seat, he couldn’t help but fidget with a strange sense of, of something so familiar yet he couldn’t figure out what.  The way your features glow in the light takes his breath away, so much so that the souring taste of acid reflux from being so uncomfortable to think that he needs to brainstorm before talking to you was being wash away completely. Since when did he ever needs a filter to talk to you, the one person that will accept all his words no matter how silly or how philosophically profound they might be. Oh, that’s right, since the day he threw you away like trash but right now, right now he can’t take his eyes off of you even if you’re just wearing the simple hospital gown. As if he had seen an angel, he forgets about the entire world, lost in the familiarity of your features. Smiling like an idiot, the flutters of your eyelashes with each blink mesmerize him into a trance. How cute are the rosy pink cheeks, bitten by the cold. The way you purse your lips entrap him, leaving him wondering what you were thinking about. After spending so long staring at you sleep, he’s overjoy even with just watching you space out.

“I tried to leave, but they said without your permission they can’t give me the release form…”

You speak up so unexpectedly, startles the lovesick boy out of his reverie. Catching himself drooling over you, he clears his throat before humming out a quiet answer.

“hmm, they informed me of your transfer request.”

“They won’t even let me do that… unless I can pay for the fee in full amount. I didn’t think you were this kind of person, Hanbin.” Your voice firm, unwavering yet your mind a mess from forcing yourself to speak so coldly to the man you love, the man that’s having your heart hammering so hard he probably already figured you out by now. Finally facing his way, the aloofness so prominent on your face scares him. He was so ecstatic, delirious with joy that he had forgotten about Hyunwoo’s warning of just how you might react even if you still love him. Needless to say the cold in your voice shocks him to bits.

“Using money to keep me hostage. You know damn well I can’t pay the fee. Why’d you even bring me to this fancy ass place for? just leave me in one of those cheap clinic.” You press on but wary of the surrounding, scare of making a scene of who might be listening in. The last thing you want is for Hanbin’s image to be tarnish because you cause a scene out of fake spite for him.

“Don’t you dare say that. You deserve the best treatment in the world. You have all my asset at your disposal. Wha-Why would you say such a thing.” He blurts out, stuns, incredulous at your ridiculous statement, almost even a bit angry that you’d think he’d abandon you so carelessly. How could you possibly think so poisonously when his intention is purely because he’s care. He had began to reach out for your tear stained rosy cheek when your glare made him understood his touch was no longer welcome. Sadden, he cowers back in his seat and his hand painfully returns to his lap.

“What do you care…” He flinches once again at how flat and cold your voice had become. Where was that sweet like honey voice he loves so much. Where were those fresh, crisp laugh that reminds him of a spring morning. Who is this person so disdainful sitting in front of him, criticizing all his action that he had done out of nothing but pure love. His mind spins so fast Hanbin was getting dizzy from adjusting to this new you that he wasn’t sure he wants to get use to.

“I care a lot. I care because I love you. You’re mi- uhm, you were mine, you were my baby. You’re still my friend. We were friends even before we were together for god’s sake. Why wouldn’t I care?” Addressing you in past tense is something Hanbin never got used to. In fact, he resists with all his might to get used to it. He was still referring to you as his girlfriend even well into the 3rd week of the break up. Every now and then he’d temporary forget, letting himself get lost in this carefree pocket of life and calling out your name only to have it echoed dejectedly around an empty house.

“Love” you scoff at the ridiculous sentiment. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Before he could say anything else, the gentle voice of your attending nurse cuts off his torture.

“Miss Y/n, let’s go get your lungs check up.”

With a small smile, you roll your IV pole away, leaving him stammering like an idiot at your pure coldness. Having rushed home so quickly, he barely had anytime to anticipate how you would react. He knew it was wrong to use the hospital authority, to use money to force your hand but he was so scared. Scared that you would leave the second you wake up. Scared that you would scurried back into the night, leaving him lost. After all, Hyunwoo had just told him the night before you were planning on moving away, out of his reach. He knows once you’re out of that apartment, he has no tie to your life, no way of reaching out to you. You’d be lost forever in the universe.

Following the gentle-voiced nurse, you swing your head slightly back at his direction, stealing a few glances of the handsome boy you’ve been dying receive affection from. Indisputably glowing under the soft winter sun even in simple black sweatpants, t-shirt, and the leather jacket that, tho he rarely wears it, used to drive you absolutely bonkers when he did. Elbows resting on his knees, he buries his face deep within the palms, fingertips rubbing gently at his hairline, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain spreading through your chest and it wasn’t because of your illness. You secretly wish you would just stay sick a bit longer, that way you can keep him for yourself just for a bit more. You bit your lips to force the regret of not falling into his arms threatening to vomit out of your heart back in. 

Waiting patiently in the small armchair beside your bed, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clenches at the image of the ring laying carelessly on the night stand. Never once did he sees you without it until that night he so ruthlessly slipped it off your finger despite your protest. In a way, Hanbin knows he deserve all of this but he couldn’t help but pray to all the Gods that you’d be the kind hearted girlfriend he loves. Staring at his own worn out ring on his finger, the thought of the two rings that should be occupy your finger remain ownerless plague his mind like the worst kind of storm. Spinning it around his finger, his mind races against time, steaming to figure out how he could get you to talk to him. The sudden sound of the metal lock shock him out of his own thought, leaving him smiling at your emerging self.

“You’re back!” A bright smile greets you first thing through the door and you could feel your icy heart melting.

“Yea, like I can go anywhere else.” Although feeling like an ass, you needed to do it for yourself. He has someone new, giving into his affection would just mess you up further when he leaves.

“What did the doctor say. How’s your lungs?” anxious vexes on his face, stomach stirring at the thought that you’re unwell then at the though that you were leaving him soon if you’re well.

“Uhm, no fluid so it’s good.” an awkward smile creeps onto your lips and you just feel strange. You were so used to just crashing into his arm coming back from doctor appointment and he’d just welcome you with no question ask. He knew how much you hated doctor, hated hospital and if him just holding you could replace all the discomfort stem from it then hold your for days he will. He’d waste a whole day just snuggling up close to his chest whenever you were sick. Although according to Hanbin, it’s not wasted if it’s something done out of love. You need that so bad right now but it’s as though there’s a big invisible wall in between you both.

“Tha-that’s good! That’s really good, you can leave soon then.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could swear he sounds disappointed? Must be a trick your lonely heart played, how could he be disappointed, after hall he pushed you away and got himself a new woman. 

Although the good news relieves all his pain, all his worries, he couldn’t help but face the reality of what will come next. Once you’re out of the hospital, would you still let him stay by your side? Cater to your needs?

“Yea… I guess” you do know better and your answer is definitely laced with disappointment. As you clamber into bed, he holds your arm, fluff your pillows, set up the TV remote so it was within range of your hold. Shyly, he pulls the cover over your body, helping you lay down. Each touch of his fingertips sear into your heart. You could feel it beating again with the force of a volcano ready to explode. Privately in  your heart, you let your soul basks in the warmth that shames even the sun’s playful rays emanating from the caring man. You could see the bite on his lower lip, the way he leans up just a smidgen aiming for your forehead but that kiss never came. Instead, He retreats back to his favorite couch pulling out stacks of paper and once again, your hospital room turns into his office.

Eyes on the TV screen, you couldn’t help but peek over every other minute to look at the gorgeous face under the pair of tortoise colored glasses. You had always have a thing for Hanbin and glasses, always wondering what kind of student he was in college, whether he would’ve give you any of his time. Now and then, you would catch him peeking over, using whatever documents he’s holding to appear as inconspicuous as possible, smiling softly at your resting form and giggle at the thought that he thinks he’s slick. Every so often, you would have a cough attack and immediately, Hanbin would be right by your side, offering water, rubbing circle on your back while his wincing face tells you he much he wishes to replace your spot in the hospital bed. If you’re being really honest, you’re drinking up all his attention like a crack on the desert floor after a big rain storm. You couldn’t help but fake cough just to get him close without giving into his attentiveness that’s no doubt chipping at your heart.

By the day end, he had forgotten that it was awkward for him to touch you, to pet your head occasionally while pacing the floor on his phone, taking care of company’s business. Embolden  by your lack of refusal, he even slips his index under your chin grazing it affectionately as he used to whenever he thinks that you did something cute. Before you could react, he had already sauntered away, rambling about one thing or another to the person over the phone. Truthfully, you couldn’t be loving the small contacts any more than now knowing maybe after this hospital stay is over so will his affection.

For most part he left you alone, fearing any action, even meaningless one would push you away. He already feels so blessed to be able to work in the same room with you without being smite by your spiteful words, to just being able to watch you from afar. He should be used to this as he had watched you for so long before he got to call you his girlfriend but in reality, it’s so hard now that he had a taste of what life really is like being your everything.

Time seems to past painstakingly slow when the only person able to distract you from the cough and the boredom on staring at the same four walls is the same person your pride won’t allow you to be friend with. Staring at your dashing roommate, you wish things were the way it was. Instead of distancing himself on the lonely couch, he’d be tuck into bed right by your side. He’d shower you with kisses the second your eyes open, petting your hair, holding your hands. Instead, all you get now is a few glances he’d steal whenever he thinks you’re not paying attention. Being Hanbin’s girlfriend was easy. He’s attentive when it comes to catering to whatever your desire be. If you wanted hug, he could be working on super important document and still let you cling onto his back. Now, even though your body uneasy, feeling like there’s electricity running through every vein, itching for his touch, you can’t even ask for it. You wish he’d just go to sleep but knowing him, sleep time would be closer to sunrise than sunset. Sighing loudly, you return your gaze to the mindless show on TV.  

Luck seems to be on your side tonight as not even 5 minutes past midnight, Hanbin weary self had slumped over on the couch, snoring away softly. Waiting another half hour to be safe, you softly creep off your bed and silently make your way to him. The way his eyes twitches, lips slightly part, arm drapes across his forehead, hand holding onto his glasses precariously, everything about him was still so perfect. Allowing yourself to get lost in the past, your fingers reach out hesitantly to trace his nose ridge down to his jawline. You lost count of how many times he’d get so hyped up to watch a movie but always ended up slumbering through most of it out of sheer exhaustion from work with his head on your lap. You’d always just watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest while letting your fingers tangled in his soft locks. He loved the small little shivers you sent through his body from just something as simple as petting his hair.

Moving further down, your hand rest easy flat upon his chest, soaking in his beating heart. A small tear trail down your cheek as you timidly press a small kiss onto his stilled lips, wishing he’d wake up and kiss you back. You carefully peel his fingers away from his glasses and the stack of paper still tightly clung, settling them down onto the desk. Pulling a spare blanket from the closet, you encase his body into the soft material before allowing yourself to steal another kiss, on his forehead this time. A soft moan tear you away from your day dream, sending your body scurrying back to the large bed to avoid confrontation in case he wakes up.

The loud clank of the remote hitting the floor shocks Hanbin out of his work trance. Glancing up, he chuckles at your attempt to fish the remote without getting out of bed. Currently draping yourself, half hanging off the bed, you sigh out a frustrated “ayyye” before your prince once again, abandon work just to entertain your little needs.

“Hmm… sorry…” You whisper timidly, finger quick to push a messy strand of hair behind your ear to peek at your loving prince. You were blushing so intensely when he flashes his dimple that you wonder if he had just figured out you’re only putting on a tough front with him. Judging from the way his hand purposely brushing against yours while placing the remote back in your hand, you would say that option weren’t too far-fetch. God, the way his smile lingers a bit too long on his lips reduces you to a melting puddle of mess. You’d be giggling like a school girl too if it had not been for the battle against yourself to put up a tough exterior, a battle that you can feel you’re slowly losing grip on.

“Was I too loud? I’ll move all my work stuff back to my office tomorrow morning. I know you need rest, it’s getting pretty late too.”

You sit silently for a minute, staring at those loving brown eyes. You wish for nothing more but for him to stay close by but that would be too selfish. He has someone new and you were just pulling him back into some confuse crazy whirlwind. Why couldn’t you just be strong, yell at him or get angry. That way he could just walk away without feeling guilty. Sensing that everything is less than okay, Hanbin backs away slowly, retreating to his couch before cleaning everything up in a flurry. His heart aches. He had thought you were finally begin to seek comfort with him once again but looks like he gave himself false hope. Sniffling quietly, he chuckles out of the amusement of how easily he thought you’d let him back into your life. After the stunt he had pulled, did he really expect for you to welcome him back with open arms? He questions himself, nearing the brink of tear but he silences himself. Little did he knows, all his movement scrutinize to the extreme with a fine toothed comb by your eyes.

If he had moved on, why does it looks like he’s less than thrill to leave?

Lord knows what comes over you the next second but whatever it was, it lifts Hanbin’s hope greatly.

“Stay…” You speak up softly, biting your lips, mulling over whether this really was the right thing to do. “…If you want. It does get lonely here by myself.”

“You sure?” He asks and immediately regretting giving you an option to back out of the offer.

“Yea. Stay! It’s kinda too quiet in the morning when you leave for work… I could use the company.” You speak again, more confident this time as he moves closer to your side. A soft smile plays across his lips before he did something so unexpected it hurts even more than your aching lungs. He kisses you and you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the act of love you’ve craved for so long. You had always loved being kiss by Hanbin. He leans into it so delicately it almost felt unreal. Your quivering lips stay still, mulling over the taste of his lips, horrify at how foreign everything feels. Fear runs deep through your spine, how could his kiss feels so strangely distant already after only a mere few months. By no mean it was foreign because of the taste, or how they feel moulding against yours. It wasn’t the fact that he’s so awkwardly stilled instead of grabbing at any part of your body he could nor was he deepening the kiss as he should. It was the fact that the kiss wasn’t the same happy ones you two shared countless times through out your wonderful time together, the one you’d ask for without any reason and he’d give you without questioning. A shiver shoots through every cell of your body at the thought of how far away he’d be after a year. 

Although brave enough to finally take his chance, he could barely move fearing you’d refuse him at the slightest movement. He stands there with his arms awkwardly hang loose on his sides, back aching from the strange angle he had found himself bending over to be close to you yet he’d die before he breaks contact with your lips, his drug. Unexpectedly, your lips part way allowing his wavering nerve to push his lower lips in between your cracked ones, a soft satisfying moan fills the room. If he has to tally up all his luck, he’d say today would be the luckiest day of his life as your hand reluctantly reaches out to grasp onto his shirt, balling it up in your closed fist. Taking his chance, he edges himself onto your bed, newfound conviction coursing through his veins. You let your hand wanders onto his chest, caressing the body you had missed terribly to hold for the last few months. Even with his tongue plunging deep within your mouth now, his hands still unsure of where they’d be allow so he decided to simply rest it on your thighs. Sensing his hesitation, you trail your fingers up across his collar bones, wrapping firmly at the nape of his neck before pushing deep into his hair gratifying all his senses just the way he had been missing. 

“Hanbin…”

You whisper so quietly that he was scared he heard you wrong but all his doubt thrown out the window the moment he feels your chest pressing closer to his, desperate to deepen the connection. Breaking away for a second just to get a good look at the face of his love, he grins satisfyingly at your blown out pupils and how your face looks so blissful it almost resembles the mess he used to left you after a long session of love making. He basks in the pride of still being able to captivate you with just his lips even after all this time. His hands rest easy on your hips, pulling you squarely onto his lap without much resistant.

“Hmm, baby… I miss you.”

He sighs onto your lips, taking his chance before you snap out of whatever high you’re on that let him kiss you in the first place. Humming in reply, you have your arms around his torso now, tighten behind his back as he cups your cheeks with both hands. He pulls you closer, as if that was even possible at this point and you acquiesce in his action, nudging your body against his. You could feel all the tension in your heartstrings loosen. One hand slowly trailing along the curve of your spine, Hanbin somehow manages to raise all your hair on its ends as he twist and turn, attempting to exploit every bit of your vulnerability. He knows it’s wrong to take advantage of your confused heart but he couldn’t care. He was far too desperate to stop and your lack of refusal only embolden his venture.

“I miss you too…” 

Once again you were Hanbin’s girl. You feel his love permeates from his heart through the kiss and you only see him. You were ready to let go, to let him have his way with you, to be love one more time.

Just when everything begins to feel right, the ugly thought of the angel liked girl giggling her way into your brain forcing your eyes open. He was still deep, lost within your kiss with his eyes shut tightly, a few tears dotting his long lashes. You push him off with all your might, sending yourself tumbling backward on to the bed. He sits there in shock, in pain, mouth gapes wide open for anyone to see before he could even realize what was happening, his hands already reaching out to encase you in his embrace once more. To his dismay, you reject it with all your strength. He couldn’t believe it. His happiness is being rip away once again and he can’t do anything to stop it. It was inevitable, he knows that much but he wishes it wasn’t so soon.

“No. No. How could you?” You exasperate, tears welling up.

“Baby… Please don’t be like this. I know I messed up” His trepidation grows at your painful expression. Had he gone too far? His heart felt like it was the right thing to do. You kissed him back but what went wrong? His hands reach out for you but painfully you flinch backward instead.

“Messed up?” You groan with disgust.  “Hanbin you dumped me, in case you forgot. There’s nothing between us anymore. I really think you should stop calling me that… wouldn’t your girl mind? If she doesn’t then I’m pretty sure she would mind that kiss. Goddamn it, Hanbin, I don’t want to be the bad guy here.” You whine. The thought of hurting another person like an arrow through your heart. How would she feels if she had found out he spent the last three days camped in his ex’s hospital room. The pain she’ll go through would be unbearable when she finds out you made out with her man. Her man. Even thinking about that hurts.

“Babe… please don’t think about me like that. I’m loyal to only you, that girl you saw, she’s just a friend. We’ve been friend for awhile and she was visiting from Europe. I haven’t seen her since before we got together. We were just on our way to dinner and, and I didn’t want her to see me so miserable so I pretended. I’ve read your letter. You misunderstood, baby. Please.”

“The way you held her…” You croak painfully, shutting your eyes so forcefully tears spilling over from the thought of his arm around her shoulder warmed from his jacket.

“Is nothing compare to the way I used to hold you, still want to hold you. Baby, out of everyone you should know that the best.”

Frustrated at the thought that you would think he’d betray you in such way so shortly after the breakup, he walks off toward the window, stopping short of just jumping out of it to hide away. Discontent taut on his forehead as his brows furrow. He just couldn’t believe you’d think of him in such a light. Sure he expects you to hate him, to slap or kick him in the nuts but to accuse him of being unfaithful is something that he can’t accept.

Full of regret, you hide away in the safety of your blanket. You were careless. So careless that you hadn’t even consider the possibility he has his own version of Hyunwoo. Not once did he gets angry with you for spending time with your ex yet here you laid, accusing the man that had given you everything, getting jealous that he was happy without you. 

Even though it hurts, he knows ultimately this was all his doing. He has no right to be mad, to be annoyed at your discord with his action but he can’t help it. To him, you were never truly gone. At the same time he understands as he not even a week ago picked a fight with your gentle bear best friend out of frustration, of misunderstanding, but also very much out of jealousy. 

“Baby… look at me, please. I love you, so so much. I know I don’t deserve you after the way I shunned you off. You have every right to be mad at me, hate me. But please, don’t think I would ever betray your love. What about that kiss that one night…Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“What? I- But you were sleeping. You can’t- No how is it possible?”

“I learned to be alert even in my sleep after the first night spending here watching you. I had to be aware, to be here when you wake up so i changed my sleep habit I guess. The thought of you waking up in confusion laying in a strange room, a hospital room at that… I couldn’t let that happen.”

His heart aches at your shivering form under the blanket. The way your body curls up so small as if you wish you could just disappear from the room.

“It doesn’t matter, Hanbin. We’ve broken up… you’re free…free to do whatever you please, whoever you please. Don’t think you need to explain yourself to me.”

“No, we… we. I don’t want us to end. I never wanted us to end. God what I would give to take all your pain away.”

“But you can’t. We all have things we want but life doesn’t work that way. You’re finally happy again, take it, hold it close and don’t let go.” your words feeble through your tear and the weakness of your own heart.

“Happy? You think I’m happy without you? God, baby. I’m miserable. I’m insufferable to everyone around me. The happiest thing that happened to me the past two months was seeing you wait so patiently for me everyday like the good girl you are even when you know I won’t talk to you. Do you even know what that does to me? I’ve watch and re-watched the security footage of you sitting at that bench so many time i’ve lost track. When you’re not there, i’d go and sit where you would sit, imagining your body, soaking in your present. I wanted to die without you.” He vexes hoping to convey how painful it was to watch you but couldn’t touch you, knowing that you were waiting but he can’t relent to his temptation of meeting you.

You sit up with such force you could feel the whiplash liked creak in your neck. Blanket flings off in a flurry of anger, you roughly shove your hand through your hair, nearly ripping off every strand.

“Then why the fuck did you left me huh? Out of all those days, all you had to do was smile at me but GOD. The first time I saw you smile in months, it wasn’t for me, it wasn’t because of me. It was her. All you had to do was hug me, Hanbin and I would’ve given you everything. But instead you left me there, in the cold.” Your words choke in your throat as if warning you to stop before it’s too late, before they leaves you wallow in regret from pushing the love of your life too far. “ Why am I even here, huh? All those days I was crying on my own, all I wanted was a simple hug, something to acknowledge my presence but I couldn’t even get that. You know how ridiculous that feel, Hanbin? Here’s a guy that claimed he loves me with all his life, with all his might but I was shivering in the cold on my own, he couldn’t so much as spare me a glance but oh no, it’s wrong for me to assume he had moved on.” You huff in exhaustion, damn all the coughing, damn this illness, damn it all as you clutch your chest from the short heaves of your lungs that barely provide enough oxygen. “ What? You think because you sent a replacement that you’re instantly clear of all charges? How dare you, Kim Hanbin. Playing God with my life like I’m some rag doll for you to mess with. Son Hyunwoo is someone precious to me. How dare you roped him into this sick game of yours. Shoving him my way like some secondhand incentive. He is not a thing for you to mess with. He’s dear to my heart no matter how my relationship had ended with him. I thought you were brave but no. You’re just a damn coward that uses everyone. You were sick of me so you throw me aside, claiming Hyunwoo still loves me. That you, sir, somehow knows my heart better than myself. I did get confuse for a bit… Maybe there’s some truth to your words. Maybe you do know me so I doubted myself. Disgustingly felt sorry that I put you through such a tough situation.  How dare you mess with someone’s heart like that. I hate you, Hanbin.”

Your rage boils superficially like a volcano, threatening to explode any second. You no longer care how much tear or snot stream out of your face as your glare at him with the utmost poisonous of eyes. Horror shields those loving eyes of his away from you as he bit his lips shut. He blames himself every second of every day for putting you in that hospital bed. No word could describe the staggering heartbreak he felt seeing you so lifeless, silent amongst the beeping of the machines. He couldn’t believe his ears, his brain can’t for the life of it register the word “hate” coming out of your mouth with such force. Sure you had jokingly said it before but now, now you really do mean it.

“Love me…” You scoff, a mirthless grin flashes on your face and honestly it scares Hanbin. Never once did he knows of such an dark, almost evil look to take root in your features. No, to him you’re not capable of doing any harm, of being mean. This, this has to be the result of the mess he started. It pains him to see bitterness oozes from your every pore knowing it’s all because of him. From the moment he had laid eyes on you, he wishes for nothing more but to protect the sunshine and innocent you possess that’s so different from the rest of his cold and calculated world. Alas, he had lost that battle. “You know, when the light inside a lighthouse break, the keeper would change the lightbulb, tweaks the setting, not replacing the light house. You… You damn went and destroy the whole thing. This, this so called light house, beacon of ‘love’ that you said I had built for you brick by brick. Gone. And you! You’re the one that torn it all down.”

He knew this would happen but no preparation in this world could be enough for this moment. You rip all his breaths, all his words, all his thought away with that agonizing tinge contorting your face into a frown. You were looking at him now, just like he wanted but that heartbreaking sight of your tear make him feels like a helpless little boy standing on the shore being crush by the unimaginable force of an oncoming wave. Clutching his chest, once again like a coward, he runs away in tear leaving you stunned with the loud slam of the door.

“Shit, what did I do.” You sat there helpless watching his back turning away, leaving you to fend for yourself once again. You’ve done it. You’ve finally push him out of your life permanently.

Muttering a soft “No”, you want nothing more but for him to come back, to kiss you again. Like a fool, you lost your chance just because you’re an angry bitter person. Why couldn’t you just hold off on being selfish for one second and just say you love him. Reality come crashing down as the rhythmic beeps of the machine returns with dead air as its companion and the dust of fury had settled. You shed tears now not of frustration but of self pity. You had the best man in the world pinning after you but what did you do? You push him away. Uncontrollable sob and screams pulsate from your lungs and you couldn’t care less who hear. It’s none of their business anyhow.

“It’s okay, Y/n… it’s okay.”

A good minute past before you could register the heat leaking into your pale cold skin and the soft, gentle voice lulling you back down from your high. Your eyes flutter open to find your head resting on Hyunwoo’s strong shoulder as his fingers softly comb through your hair.

“It’s okay, babe. You got it out. You got your anger out. Let it go, don’t hold it back.”

“I messed up, Hyunwoo. H-He…fuck. Hanbin’s not coming back… He told me she was just someone he trusts and I still accused him of moving on. He has every right to move on, Hyunwoo. I…” You yank vexingly at the endless wires and the loose collar of your hospital shirt that suddenly feel all too constricting. “I gotta go find him…” Hyunwoo tighten his hold on your shivering body, soaking away the frustration that’s wrecking your every fibre. It’s useless to even fight the grasp of your gentle bear as he soothes away all your aching with every pass of his hand over your back.

“He will. Trust me. He will but you gotta meet him halfway, babe. You can’t push him away like that. I know he messed up but get over your pride. You want him back. He loves you unconditionally, he won’t look down on you or laugh at you. Just show him you need him. The boy is ready to give you the whole galaxy if you ask for it. The least you could do is give him a chance. If not for him, for yourself. Like you said, you deserve to be happy.”

“I wanted to…” Your eyes falter to the spot he once sat so patiently typing away on his laptop. You heart aches for the sight of him taking a peek at you with a soft smile on his face. He had always looked at you like you’re the only girl in the world but in your tormented twisted mind, you couldn’t see that… Why couldn’t you just see that.

“Look, I’m not taking his side. I’d beat the shit out of him if I could but I know that only hurts you so I’ll just be honest. You think the last two months had been hard on you and I agree. No one should ever feel this pain but let me tell you the side you don’t know. He’s hurting a lot more than you think he is. When we broke up, you had Hanbin constantly catering to your needs…” The slight pause in his comforting tone has your heart twisting up in guilt. For the first time since having your life line reconnected, you really look at Hyunwoo as you did all those years ago. The pain of first love still linger beneath the calm facade and that sad smile of his. Those kind eyes were still the same but perhaps a bit more worn. Those lips, that smile, everything were still so familiar yet so different. You’ve been so selfish with playing the victim that you really had forgotten the other half of this world of pain. You had forgotten to listen. “I was alone, dealing with losing you all on my own and let me tell you this, hurt isn’t even just a word anymore. It’s my being, my breath, my mind, everything hurt. It felt so bad that I was in constant shock over what had happened and honestly, I can’t tell you how many time I got close to dropping everything and running back to you. It’s unfathomable, Y/n, the kind of pain that I felt, Hanbin still feeling, knowing we did this to you. I couldn’t eat, sleep. I secluded myself. Every time I was beginning to feel happy again, guilt, guilt just override everything. The moment I found someone else, I couldn’t help but just think of how miserable you must be. Do you know what kind of relief I got when I saw you clutching onto Hanbin’s arm when I ran into you two on your 2nd anniversary? It’s like torrential downpour on my cracked dry, drought heart. Like the biggest weight got lifted off my chest and I could breathe again knowing you were happy with someone else. For once in my life I could be happy without feeling guilty.”

“I’m sorry…” The one thing that you will never forgive yourself was that you let Hyunwoo dealt with the heartache all on his own. Nights after nights you’d laid awake in bed, imagining what kind of horrifying pain he must’ve felt being in a foreign country all alone dealing with a break up but at the end of the day, you still fell asleep in the warm safe embrace of Hanbin. Hyunwoo on the other hand… You couldn’t even worked up enough courage for an apology. 

“No, it’s not your fault. We both decided on parting way and we both felt the pain of it. Sometimes, nobody is at fault…. Life is just cruel. All I’m saying is, be that relief for Hanbin. He’s all alone in that cold office. He’s a lonely man, Y/n. You were always that salvation to his “sad, pathetic life”. His words, not mine.”

“What?” You raise your eyebrows, wincing a bit at the sound of “sad” and “pathetic”. Why would Hanbin says such preposterous thing?

“We ran into each other in Japan and he spent all night just doting over your little quirks. His eyes light up anytime I mentioned your little habits and he’d exclaimed excitingly that you still do those things. There’s a lot of thing he knows about you that you don’t even realize. I know you already know this but the guy, he had been beaten up by this dog eat dog world enough. Let him be happy. He will never be happy again knowing you’re still hurting. If you don’t love him anymore, let him know so he can moves on. But I know you do. He’s your true love, Y/n. I admire the kind of love you two share. Let yourself breathe, babe. Just go. Go and be happy with him.”

With the last words of his well wishing, Hyunwoo gently lift you away from his shoulder and press a soft kiss to your forehead. He was grateful because you brought him happiness, even more now that you had brought him and Ella together even with your own loneliness looming like a big storm. All that needed for his world to be perfect now would be for you to be happy.

“You know what’s funny? He used to say the same thing about our love. He said we inspired him.”

Hyunwoo and you both chuckle at the strange thought that somehow your love inspired Hanbin to pursue you the way he did. Somehow out of all the fuckery life threw at you both, Love grew from the sadness of a broken first love. You sat there in Hyunwoo’s arms for God know how long musing over the strange way life played out, how at one point you were all strangers but now… Now you, Hanbin, Hyunwoo, and Ella all found solace in being an irreplaceable part in each other’s lives.

He wasn’t happy coming back to his company in a chaotic mess but it wasn’t anything Hanbin couldn’t handle. A part of him was thankful for the dire need for overtime as his weary heart can’t take much more emotional trauma. If there’s one thing he learned about this cruel business world is that it’s as cold as a polar bear’s toe is that there would be no need for him to “feel” when dealing with these pesky business ventures.

A pat on the back and a supportive squeeze on the shoulder from his dad signaling the crazy 36 hours overhaul had come to and end. Hanbin sinks down into the large leather chair finding himself wondering what you were doing at this moment, if you were eating well. The small clock on his wall ticks 11:30 PM as he hails a small breath of relief. He had gone straight into the company the second he left your hospital room and hadn’t left since. He barely ate, only shower out of the necessity of looking presentable to the other CEOs. The last two days were just a big blur of stumbling in and out of conference rooms. His eyes grew tired of the same beige wall and set of circular desk and chairs. He misses the calming pastel blue wall of your hospital room. It reminded him of the beach and he wonders if you knew, would you laugh at him for thinking such a weird thought. The slight hum of your bedside humidifier reminds him of the wave crashing the shore. Most of all, he knows just on that bed not too far away from his soft couch laid the brightest sun in his galaxy. He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot at the way your face so shyly sneaking a peek when you think he was too enthralled in his paperwork to notice. He was only partial to the idea of pushing the kiss onto you until he caught your silent school girl giggle one time when he had fumbled a donut onto his documents, twice, cussing at the round chocolate ring obstructing some very crucial numbers. Underneath the brooding tough girl in front of him was still the adorable little Y/n he loves.

It was only now that he realizes the lack of his personal phone as he reaches into his empty pocket to get a glimpse of your picture he still has as his lockscreen background. He had snuck it during an afternoon stroll by the river. Too busy fumbling around with change to pay the street vendor for some shaved ice, he failed to notice you had once again left his side and ran off to a cute herd of puppies. Dessert in hand, he turned around to only met with the empty spot you had excitedly hopping in when he said he’d get you food. He knew better by this point to really worry, instead, eyes searching for what could distract you away from him. When the sight of you squatting in front of three dogs, laughing away without a care caught his eyes, he couldn’t help but captured the way your bright smile seemed to put everything else to shame. 

Rushing down to his car, he feels his lungs constricting from the raging adrenaline, the pure needs of seeing your face. Hastily pressing in the passcode, his heart elates to see 4 messages from a number he knows all too well despite having deleted it from his contact.

[3:51 AM] Can we talk?

[3:55 AM] I know you must be sleeping. Sorry… I’m getting discharge soon.

[9:00 AM] It’s okay if you don’t want to. I know the last time we spoke, I wasn’t exactly civil… I just wanted to say a proper goodbye… It’s been over a day since you left and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to see me again. I just want to thank you again, for the best few years and for always being there when I needed most. I realized all I’ve done thus far is yell at you but never once thanked you for rescuing me. God know where I’d be now had it not been for you that day, so thank you. 

[6:25 PM] I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. Goodbye, love. I wish you the best. I love you, always.

“Fuck” was all he could mutters before tearing out of the parking lot leaving a trail of scorched tire marks on the ground and the unpleasant scent of burnt rubber swirling around the empty lot. Racing down the silent hall, he earned a few ire shush from the nurses but his heart couldn’t be bother. With a scream of your name, he slams the door open only to be meet with compete silent. Eyes tracing every details of the immaculate room, a flutter of the wings of fear settles in his chest. He’s too late. The empty hospital bed neatly made and the mess of a duffle bag you had next to the night stand, gone. The only remnant of you left is the gold glint of the old worn out promises sitting lonely on the night stand.

His weight drops onto the floor as if his life and soul vacated, leaving their meat suit to fend for itself. Stammering “I’m sorry” repeatedly, tears flood the frail face. For the first time since he broke your heart, you truly see how far gone his heart had been. It was easy for you to blame the cold image of the guy that had ordered for your removal from his office but seeing Hanbin now, your Hanbin… You wish for nothing but take all his pain away.

He had torn your heart but at the same time, with his own hand, he pulverized his own. In his bruised chest, a void in place of what used to be a heart. He had done his work now it’s your turn. The sight of him so broken kills you. Softly tip toeing into the room shutting the door gently, small pitter patter make their way to the boy lost in his own black hole. You sit next to him but his eyes, dead, staring into space as if you’re merely a spirit. In that moment, aside from the heavy down pour from his eyes, the rest of him seems to be stuck inside a frozen pocket in time and space.

Suddenly, a sensation so wonderful, so warm radiates from his back. It stays in one spot at first but then glide all over his back, bringing the life back to the cold pale skin. It didn’t stop there. Like a ballerina, it twirls its way upon his shivering shoulders then to the barren face, it was only then he had realized, the girl he loves was trying to save him. You were there with those concern eyes and the small frown he had always thought was so adorable. Your hands upon his body, smoothing and soothing over every crack, every site that had been pricking like needle.

“Shh, Hanbin. Don’t cry, I’m here.”

You speak up so gently you weren’t sure if he had heard right. He had heard but wasn’t sure if this is just another one of the hallucination his mind made up to attempt at healing its host. You’re sitting so close to him, whispering comforting words. Like a person coming out of a coma, his eyes slowly flicker, following the movement of the hand that was now rubbing gently on his chest to ease his ragged breathing.

“I’m here, Hanbin. Don’t cry. Everything will be okay.”

You said it again, he couldn’t believe it. A reluctant hand meet the pink skin of your cheek, caging it while his thumb runs along the pair of lips he had dreamt of so many nights. A smile blooms at the contact of his finger onto your skin and he sighs with relief.

“It really is you… I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“You’re not, babe. I’m here. They needed to clean my room so I went outside to relax. Don’t worry, I’m here, baby.”

Desperately, his arms pull you into his body, nearly topple both of you onto the hard floor but he didn’t care. If he let go now, you would melt away with the wind. Or perhaps much worse, you would go back to the cold, and bitterness of hate, pushing him away. He has to hold you close, to never let go, just like you said he needs to. He had found his happiness once again and hell freezes over before he’d let you go again.

“Please don’t leave me, Y/n. I can’t live without you. I don’t care if I’m being selfish, I don’t care. I need you so bad. Please… I know I hurt you. I know because I was hurting too. I can’t sleep because when I close my eyes, my mind just takes me back to that night. Watching you cry, hearing you call my name, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I can’t eat because, fuck, how could I eat when I know you’re starving yourself from crying for a useless fool like me. God, I thought I was too late. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t see your text an- and, your lugga- your luggages are gone. Whe- I’m not too late am I? I know you’re angry and everything I’ve done so far is unfair to you, to Hyunwoo. I just, I thought I was… I’m so stupid, baby. You have every right to hate me. It might seems like I can’t make up my mind, pushing you away then asking for another chance, like I’m hurting you on purpose but that’s not what I want to do. I’d much rather spent the last few months cuddle up to you admiring the ring on your beautiful hand than walk through hell. I thought I was letting you have the happiness you deserve. I’m so sorry. I regret everything I said.” He cried out with all the desperation in the world, all the heartbreak every soul on this planet had ever felt, he let it all out. 

“Shh, baby it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Hanbin. I’m right here. I put my bags away so they could clean the room. I’m not leaving yet. We have plenty of time to talk things out, okay? I’m not angry.” You tried your best to stay strong for him but the wavering of your voice threaten to burst through. You want to cry. Cry because guilt cuts deeper than anything else could. Cry because he was here in your arms once again. Cry because he was begging for you to stay. Cry because you know you will stay.

“Please, Y/n. Please, baby. If I ask you to not to leave me, will you stay? If, if you stay, will you love me again? I just need one chance, just one, I can prove to you…” His thumbs rubbing the tear away from your cold cheeks, eyes latching onto any bit of emotion you were showing through. For once in months you weren’t angry… You were just, well you.

“My idiot Hanbin, I’ve never stop loving you.”

None of your word could relent the neediness of his hands, of his eyes, of his love. Like a child lost in the raging current of life, he clings onto your body like the salvation of a lifeline, the last bit of hope before he drowns in the harshness of it all. Understood, you sit still, head snuggles into the crook of his neck, letting him get high off of you. Arms tighten around his waist, you press a small kiss onto the slender neck, taking in his warmth as he does yours. His hand tangles in your hair, your fingers, your shoulders, your back, everywhere. Your craving of him rattles in its cage like a starving monster with him being so impossibly close that you could hear his heart beat. But right now, you need to put him first, let him have his moment. 

A small terrifying gasp left his lungs as you pull away, putting space in between the two hungry bodies.

“No, no, no. Baby, don’t leave. I need more. I need you…”

Fearful that the drought of his heart will no longer be grace with your rain, panic envelops his body. You remain close, sitting still in between his legs. One hand moving onto the dull skin of his cheek, you crack a small smile that eases his weary mind. His begging stop the instant your lips touch his in the most delicate manner, pressing colors of love back into his monotone soul.

“I love you, Hanbin.”

You murmurs against his lips with the best smile you could muster up and immediately feel his lips curl up in reciprocation.

“I love you so much, Hanbin.”

You repeat when the wetness drench your skin in the torrential downpour of his eyes. It was as if every prayer, every hunger, every thirst his body went through the last two months answered all at once, overwhelming every senses in his body. His face numb with your drug. All he could do was clutching onto the loose fabric of your hospital shirt while letting your lips work his into oblivion. You work gently and carefully, wary of the splitting cracks of his lips that must be stinging like thousands pricks of thorn. Soon enough, neither of you could be satisfy by the lightness of a few pecks. As if he read your mind, his lips part slightly, welcoming your own pressuring for a deeper kiss. Your soul relishes in familiar plush of his lips, the dominance of his tongue, the sweetness that he is. 

“Please, be mine again.” You murmur against his lips, giving you both a chance to catch up to reality.

Your words so small and simple but it restores his heart, mends his soul. Finally reeling in the reality of it all, he breaks away from your touch.

“Always. I’m always yours baby. Y/n is mine. Forever. I’d love that.”

Echoing the words you had said to him two years and six months ago when he first tie your life to his, he lets out a joyous sob. Mirroring his emotion, you wrap your arms around his shoulder, cheek rubbing onto his,  thankful for a second chance at love. No word could describe the feeling your soft touches are giving him at the moment. It simply feels like he’s among the clouds of his best dreams. Like any dream, reality rears its ugly head and this time it comes in form of a string of heavy cough shaking your body. The settling cold of night has once again gotten the better of your still recovering body. Hunching over in a fit of cough, you smile through it all. For once in all the days laying in this cold room, you know once again you can confidently grab onto Hanbin for support.

Holding your body close, he carries you off easily with your arms still clinging around his neck. Gently settling your tired body onto the unnecessary large bed, Hanbin made sure you drink enough water before pulling the cover over your body. Shuffling around awkwardly beside your bed, he suddenly overcomes with a sense of uncertainty. Even though his body still feeling like it’s on the best high, guilt begins to course through his every vein. He had been so overwhelm with emotion that his overloaded brain forgotten about the betrayal he had put you through. Now regaining his consciousness, he couldn’t help be be hesitant, scare of how to bring the past up without pushing you spiraling back into hatred. His dubiousness not missed by your eagle eyes. Although adorable, you couldn’t help but be a bit sad from the distance between your body and his. For as long as you could remember, he never had a filter for skin-ship. All his best friends complain just how clingy he is when it’s come to being touchy, how thankful they were you came along to take some weight off their shoulders. Totally opposite of his work demeanor - cold and calculated, around you he was as affectionate as they come - hands constantly feeling the need to be in contact with your body even if it’s just resting gently on your shoulder.

“Uhm… Can-May I?” Finally catching onto your scrutinizing eyes, he stammers in embarrassment, unsure of what to do with himself.

“What kind of question is that? If you insist on being a stranger with me then just leave. I really don’t need doubts and distance right now.”

Whispering a small sorry, he finally picks a spot nearby your feet, hands softly resting on your legs.

“You’re such an idiot, Hanbin.” Sighing in defeat at his cluelessness, you peel the corner of the large grey blanket away, patting the spot next to you softly before motioning for him to come over with two fingers. Swiftly kicking off his shoes, he carefully settles under the cover right next to your body. Instinctively, you immediately snuggle up close under his arm, head resting gently against his beating heart. Without missing a beat, his arms assume their favorite position around your body just as they always had.

“What I need right now is my boyfriend. My caring, loving, affectionate Hanbin. The guy that abandoned work to bring me soup when I came down with the flu. The guy that screamed he’s not mushy or lovey dovey but then clung onto me for a whole day like a crybaby after I came back from a long trip. The guy that willing to give up sleep to drive for hours just so I can see the beach. The guy that makes me smile just by blinking his beautiful eyes, melts my heart with a touch of his finger. I can’t stand you being so distant, so detached from me. I need my Hanbin back. I want my Hanbin… I deserve to get you back. I’ve been through enough… Don’t you think?”

Your voice trails off as sob takes hold. The flashes of his standoffish expression, cold manner replay in your mind like the worst nightmare that won’t go away. Even now with your body safe in his embrace, you still fear this is all just life cruel trick. Lifting you high before throwing your body crashing down once again. Without warning, his fingers nimbly secure your chin in their grasp, lifting your head up to meet his gaze. Your painful teary eyes transform into gleeful ones instantly when those soft lips crash messily onto yours, moulding itself against the curve of your own.

“I don’t fucking deserve you, not one bit. I must’ve been a saint in my past life because hell, I haven’t done anything in this life to deserve your love.” He murmurs against your lips before another round of thrashing of lips begin. His hands rough yet gentle at the same time, conveying the neediness you crave. His full attention focuses on making you feel at home, on taking all your worries away. He needs you to know he’s never going anywhere, ever again. You have him for as long as you want, this life and all the lives after that.

“But I will stay for as long as you need. I’ll be your servant if it means I get to worship at your feet every minutes of the rest of my pathetic life. I love you so much, baby. Whatever you want babe. I’ll give you everything if it means you’ll take my worthless self, let me back into your life.”

The intensity of his loving gaze set you ablaze with joy. The way he’s drinking in every bit of your features, longing for your touch even though he’s already holding you so close, lips merely centimeters away from yours.

“I love you, Hanbin. You don’t need to do anything, just staying by my side and loving me is enough.”

Finally parting touch out of bare necessity for air, his eyes glisten with newfound strength. Hands still tangles in the knots and strands of your hair, he whispers “thank you” incessantly before laying back down. Minutes then an hour past without much being said. Simple sound of kisses smacking and content sighs replace words that need not be say to be understood.

“Is this why you chose this hospital… because the bed is big? So you can crawl into bed with me when i’m out cold.” A devilish smirk on your tired lips, deciding you miss his soothing buttery voice. As much comfort as this blissful silent brought, you’d much rather listen to his incessant babble after so long of watching from the distant.

“What kind of person do you think I am, baby? I’m not that desperate.” He scoffs, although the arms tightening their hold around your shoulder said otherwise.

He places a kiss on your forehead, lips smirking victoriously at the sight of your small body flushing against his, letting him pet you however he likes. An air of easiness floods his lungs at the sound of your small giggle. It was something he took for granted. Having heard nothing but screams and cries the past few months, it was now a sound he vows to hear at least once a day. The best part of it all, it was him that caused that lovely sound.

“I’m pretty sure you are.” you insist, hand wanders from his toned chest to the tight abs. You’ve missed this. Cuddling was something you both love, perhaps even more than making love. The intimacy of knowing you could be so impossibly close without needing to resort to lust and biological urges is a high of its own.

“Fine but I only did it once, okay? And it was because I had to leave you. I’m not creepy like that. I just kinda held your hand and kiss you here and there. You know, whispering into your ears. Typical K-drama kind of scenes.”

“Ugh, Mr. Hanbin. Kissing and laying with someone without their permission, how could you. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.” You groan, scrunching up your nose feigning disgust at his confession.

“If I admit i’m a creep for you, will you stop teasing me?” he quips, fingers digging into your hip eliciting a loud yelp. Doesn’t matter how much you beg, his fingers never cease their banter. Your eyes dart hastily between the door back to his playful eyes, worries engulf you.

“Yah, stop. I’m gonna get scold by the mean nurse again. She already hate me enough as it. It’s all your fault too!” You groan loudly, simultaneously hushing his overexcited self.

“You little brat, how is it my fault if you’re an annoying patient huh?” His eyes light up in pure happiness watching you squirm under his touch, a smile broad on your lips.

“CAUSE! you left a big mess with all your papers and shenanigans. Then you keep storming in and out of my room. Ugh, you’re so annoying”

“Hey, how dare you call your boyfriend annoying. You’re so getting it now!” Shifting off, he hovers threateningly over your body, hands begin trailing down along your side and once you realize where they were heading, it was already too late.

 “No, come on babe. Not my freaking thighs, stop! Yes. Yes. as long as it’s for me.”

“I’m only a creep for you, Mrs. Hanbin. Happy now?”

‘Mrs.’, that was something Hanbin had always avoided saying. Not because he didn’t see himself marrying you but because he had always been scared of rejection. He was readied, so ready to take you with him for the rest of his life. Never once had he called you “mrs.” anything. Hearing your new title, the meaning, it rattles your heart with intensity of a 9 point earthquake. Playfully hitting his chest, your crane your neck to press a small kiss onto his awaiting puckered lips before laying back down.

“Baby?” Timidly, Hanbin awaits your response, unsure if he really wants to go dig a hole when everything feels so right.

“Yes, boyfriend.” You breathe almost effortlessly much to his delight. He loves the way you could make such a simple word impact his heart in such a way, evident by the brilliant smile tumbling from his lips. You stare back with delight glossing over your doe eyes and he found himself sadden. Sadden not because of what you said but because all this time, he could’ve just given you the ring, that none of this would’ve happen.

“I’m really sorry for all the things I’ve done. I know there’s no making up for it.”

“I know…” You whisper softly, index grazing along his torso. Feeling the gap increasing between you both even though you’re still stuck close to his body, you wiggle even closer. “I… I blamed you for causing all my pain but I realized, it must’ve been ten…no, thousand times worse for you. I won’t say it’s okay because honestly, it wasn’t. I can say this though, I forgive you and I need for you to forgive yourself if we’re going be together.”

“I love you so much.” He digs his face deep into the crook of your neck, feeling his large body somehow fitting so perfectly inside your small embrace. “I don’t blame you for hating me. Even as I was going through that night, my head kept screaming at me ‘fool, you need her. Stop now before it’s too late’. Even when you were being drag away, I just wanted to chase after you, pulling you back into my arms but I was so blind I thought that was the only way you’d be happy.” A bone crushing hug found its way around your body as he mutters out a muffled confession. He finally exhales after feeling like his breathing has ceased for so long. His body on cloud 9 as your hand rubs comfort back into his skin.

“Hanbin… I can’t say that I agree with what you did but I understand. You had my best interest in mind even if it meant throwing yourself away in the process. A man that can forget about his own well being for the good of his love ones is someone I can stand behind. My happiness is with you. What I needed from Hyunwoo was closure.” You smile at the thought of having two amazing men in your life that are willing to give and support you no matter what. How lucky can one person be, honestly. “We both had thought the reason we felt so guilty for moving was because there was still lingering feeling. Turns out, we just needed closure, to make sure the other person is happy.” It was true a small part of you always held back from loving Hanbin fully. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to or you don’t care. It was you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly happy when God know where or how Hyunwoo was. In the short few months of your love being absent, progress made further than all the years that came before it had. You both found peace with letting go of a love you once cherished so deeply. You both finally forgave yourself for moving on, for being happy. You finally get to close that chapter of your life properly.

“Thank you for always understanding me. There’s something I, I’m… I don’t know if I should but I just need to know.” 

“Anything, love.” You whisper with a kiss on his forehead, worries once again dances on the tip of your tongue. Should you shut him up with another kiss or let him voice his concern no matter where his question might lead.

“The doctor, they said you were unwilling to wake up… Di-Did you remember anything from when you were sleeping? Was, was it because of me? Did you dream about me? Was it because you don’t want to see me again?” He utters out the painful cluster of words, arms constricting around your body as if it being impossibly close to you would ensure he’d get the answer he hopes for.

“No, silly. I just thought if I wake up, I’ll lose you all over again. In my dream, you were smiling at me and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let go.” 

And hope you given him.

“I’m sorry. I promise you I will never leave you. I want to spend the rest of this life with you, then all the lives after that. I honestly don’t blame you if you wake up one day and decide to leave me. I deserve every pain in this world. If I were you, I would never forgive me.” 

“But you’re not me and I’m not going anywhere. I forgave you a long time ago, Hanbin. I figured if I can’t give you the happiness you deserve then I can at least help you… that’s why I wrote you the letter.”

“My happiness is with you, always had been, the second you knock me down on that street.” Finally found enough courage to look you in the eyes, Hanbin feels himself experiencing the very definition of happy as a smile was already on your lips.

“And mine, yours.”

Now that you were officially well enough to sleep without being constantly monitor by the watchful nurse or the plentiful beeping of machines, the room suddenly feel boring.

“Hanbin, are you sleeping?” You stare up at the serene on his resting face and found yourself smiling for no reason. He’s so handsome, more now than ever that you both spilled your hearts to each other without holding anything back.

“No… I can’t sleep without you imitating the machines to lull me.” You gasp, eyes blown wide open at his little confession. Many nights while Hanbin would peacefully rest on the couch, you’d find yourself making noises, beeping along with the machine or humming random tunes. It was a way to ground yourself to reality, God know how hard it was to stay away, to not just clamber atop his stilled body and fall asleep. Other times, it’d just to keep you company from the restlessness of having been sleeping all day long.

“Oh no! You heard that?” You rasp and Hanbin just chuckles. You could never stay quiet for long and he loves you for it. Always touching him or making cute random noises as you do the most mundane things. He finds your neediness adorable. You hide behind the palms of your hands before feeling kisses being place all over them.

“Yes, babe. I heard all the noises you made up. Light sleeper now, remember?” With his eyes still close, he leans further into your needy grasp before pecking blindly at the top of your hair, missing the target a quite a few times.

“Well…. Since you’re awake, wanna do something crazy with me? One last hurrah before I say bye to this place forever?” 

“Baby, we are NOT fucking in here. The door doesn’t even have a lock. People know me here. I can’t be having my parents going in for a check up and hear fleeting murmurs of my rendezvous with my crazy girlfriend. Uh uh.” You didn’t need to peek to know there’s a full blown smirk on his devilishly handsome face despite the minor protesting he’s faking at the moment. “Plus it’s 3 in the morning, get some sleep. We’re leaving the hospital at 11 tomorrow morning.”

“Come on, baby… You never let locks and fleeting murmur stop you before…” You whine and you know he hates it. “3 in the morning is exactly why I’m proposing we do this. No one comes by at this hour.”

“No.” A simple stern word hit you before he lets his eyes fluttering close once again. No way were you going to let this opportunity go as you climb atop his stiffening body.

“Please, Hanbin. I miss you… Please…” You beg knowing he would never last if you pull a pout on him. Now how to get him to open his eyes… A dangerously smirk found itself on your lips as you straddle across his torso, lips pressing softly up to his jawline as he gulps more time than you can count in a few seconds. “Technically we don’t have to do it here… I may or may not have found a safe spot in my many days spent in this place.” The second you finish your sultry laced sentence, his head shot up faster than you could even begin to imagine. Eyes wide, his mouth gapes wide open in the process of deciphering what the hell you mean by safe spot. Just as his eyes met with your pout, you hop off the bed and begin strutting toward the door pulling along the spare blanket that was once neat atop your bedside chair.

“God, you’re so crazy.” Left Hanbin’s lips with a shake of his head yet that mischievous smile tells you he was gamed. By the time he caught up, you had reach the door to the staircase with a suggesting curl of your finger calling him over. Sighing loudly as tho he doesn’t want to, he pulls his jacket over the loose  V-necked t-shirt that had been tempting you all night by revealing just enough of that flawless skin and enticing sharpness of his collar bones and neck. 

“Baby, how is the staircase safe?” he questions, taking your hand in his.

“Not here. I’m not crazy.” You jest, leading him up. His mouth gapes wide open in shock as if your proposal of fucking in the same hospital that he was born in, got his first cast on his arm after falling off his beloved horse, then stitching on his knee not too long after from a dirt bike, the very same one that his parents still frequent often is absolutely, completely normal but getting it on in the staircase is absolutely bonker. A strangled sound caught your attention as you reach out for his hand. He looks like a damn fish gulping air in and out as he struggles with the logical side of himself whether he should speak up or not. 

“Don’t you dare call me crazy, Kim Hanbin. We fucked in a freaking field before, and on the plane, and in the closet that one time you were bored out of your mind at the old men convention.”

“Can you not call my business party “old men convention”? Make me sound so unattractive.”

“it’s some lame party with a bunch of old dudes pretending they’re still in their primes and they have the perfect family, perfect marriage. but really they’re just happy their wives let them loose for once to mingle with other old dudes and like stare at my ass.” Your head twist around to sass at him. “ You know the only reason why their wives let them out right? So they can all huddle up in the corner of the party with their expensive wine that cost more than my apartment and talk shit about their husbands. Oh and they stare at your ass, and body, and face, and like everything else. Come on, babe. You didn’t even wanna go and you were the one that hosted the party.” You hop down a few steps to meet his level before leaning in for a simple sweet kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry, you’re the handsomest old man there. I won’t leave you even if some other old man was worth 10 times more drop out of the sky. No sir, I’m good with my old man Hanbin.” You scrunch up your eyebrows, shaking your head a few time just to emphasize on how much you enjoy teasing him.

“You’re lucky I love you. I swear, you’re so goddamn vexing sometimes.” He groans but did not refuse your hand pulling him along the steps.

By the time your feet had past the door of the highest floor, just 2 flights of stair above your floor, Hanbin finally caught onto your idea of a safe spot is. Judging from the darkening of his eyes and the smug grin on his lips, it’s fair to say he agrees. Soon enough you both reach your destination as the auto doors slide wide open, rushing fresh air to the dampen atmosphere of the mostly unused highest flights of stairs. Aside from the nurses and doctors hiding out for a quick smoke, you had figured out that no one ever go up here outside of lunch hours despite the well maintained area equips with outdoor heater and a numbers of picnic table for lunch breaks. Now that the inky sky had taken over for the day, no one bothers trekking all the way up here seeing how the elevator stopped two floors down, the last floor with actual patient rooms. 

“What do you think? Neat huh?”

“Okay, fine. It’s pretty nice up here.” Hanbin unwillingly admit although a smile bright on his face as he approaches the thick glass fencing that remains the only thing holding the  safe haven of the roof and the 15 stories drop onto the world below.

“I spent a lot of time here whenever you leave for work… something about it. Clears my mind. I just forget about all the messy relationship stuff when I’m here. It’s just me and my thought.” Your voice dips low as you take a spot next to his, back leaning onto the cool glass, eyes searching for any sign of stars above but all you could see was man made stars. “ I forget sometimes that you were gone when I’m up here. I found myself calling out to you then just break down crying when there’s no answer. Pathetic, right? All I had to do was kiss you but I’m too fucking stubborn to even do that but then I sit here and cry like none of this is my fault. I’m so sorry” Your eyes on your very own star now. He seems to be shining so brightly even though a frown was forming on the edges of those beautiful lips of his. His eyes dejected as he gazes down on the bustling world below, almost as if wishing he could just jump and warp back in time to stop himself from hurting you. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby… I started this.” He breathes so gently it’d have been carried away with the night breeze had you not been giving him your full focus.

“For screaming at you, for hating you, for everything. Please… Hanbin.” Your pleading left your lips weak, dismal but all the more sincere. “Please, don’t leave me again.” You were sobbing now and there was nothing he could do to stop you but pulling you tight under his arms, secure you in his needy grasp as he cries with you. For the first time since you woke up, you utter words of weakness and deepest desire, You could scream, you could hit him, cuss at him and while it hurt, nothing hurt more than to see you break down into fragile fragments of what left of his girlfriend.  

“It’s okay, baby. I’m never leaving, ever again.” was all he could whispers as the night cold paints you both with its brushes of frost. You both stand there, stealing each other body heat, bearing all the vulnerabilities of being hurt for each other to see. Your hands cling onto his back desperately under his jacket because even with the relatively thin material obstructing you from feel him, you’re still fearing he could just be another one of your figment of imagination, fisting up the material as tightly as you can just in case he’d dissipate if you let go. He says nothing but grabbing tighter onto your shivering frame because he knows you need this, he had his weak moment just letting it all go in your arms and now you need yours. He had long figured out that it would take all his life to earn back that seemingly unending trust you had for him because well, he gave you a taste of his disappearing act and what will stop him from performing it again. He gave you a taste of what your sunshine of a man could really do if darkness takes over, even if he meant well. He’s acutely aware that to you, the option of him just up and leave out of nowhere is all too real even if with all his heart and soul he’s certain, so certain that never again would he do it. He needs you too much, loves you too much to ever do something so hideously stupid ever again. It pains to even think he had done so much damage that your fear is that of him just walking away… again. You were the fearless one in the relationship. The fearless he’s thinking of here isn’t the kind that you possess as a strong independent woman he fell in love with, the kind that he admires so much. No, the fearless here is the one where you lead your relationship without ever worrying about consequences or being hurt. The one that whispered in your ear “yes” when he asked you to take a trip with him 2 weeks into your friendship even though you got no idea where you were going or even if he’s really is just a lonely sad boy who needed friend. The same one that encased you in its carefree embrace as he lead you toward the walk in closet at his parents’ mansion during the old man convention knowing how humiliating it would be if anyone were to catch the both of you moaning each other names as they walk by. You didn’t care, you trust that he would take care of you if such things did happen. The same one that stroked a laugh out of you as you both hand in hand jump off a cliff in some exotic island you can’t even pronounce the name off into the glistening blue ocean that would make aquamarine pale with jealousy even when you were scare shitless of the height. Why did you do it? Well because he would never endanger you in anyway. No harm would come to you, his promise that he upheld for so long until that night. The sheer shock and panic of going through that decision again in his mind rips him away from his reverie as he feel you calm in his hold. Suddenly the shadow of trepidation darken his body as his embrace constricts, letting him feel every dip and curve of your body and how you just melt into his touch, wiggling just to fit in with the tightening grasp. You’re so serene in the way your hand caressing the curve of his spine, face resting in the crook of his neck with your other hand over his heart. His urges too strong at this point to ignore so he pushes you off and chuckle at the strange cat-liked sound you produce, stupefy for a moment from the sudden movement. You stare deep into Hanbin’s eyes searching for any hint of uncertainty, any hint that he wants to hurt you again, push you away again but satisfy when you found none. He’s just your Hanbin again. The same one with eyes holding your whole universe, lips like the ripeness of all the best summer fruits this world could hold, and heart fresh like the first breeze of spring. He stares back and find all the answer to his life struggle as you crack a small smile, captivating him in a way nothing of this world could. Then almost too fast for human being, he’s already on your lips in a kiss with the fervidity of all those who lost but then found love again. It wasn’t the usual slow built kiss that remind you of the campfire that one summer spent at his cabin. It didn’t start of slow and dry like the tiny flickering flame of the smolder struggling to catch on. It wasn’t even the paced wet kiss of a newly born fire, latching onto any source of fuel it could. He lunges on you the burst of flame that comes with the added support of lighter fluid, of all the kindling he could possibly add in. His lips waste no time in pulling yours into the little pocket of space and time where only you and him exist. Hanbin tugs at your lower lips, nibbling, biting, smashing his lips against your all the way he knows how. The moment he feel you gasping under the pleasurable pain of his bite and the desperation of wanting more but also needing oxygen, his tongue breaches pass your lips getting straight to chasing yours. Hands tangle in your bedhead strands almost locking you in place conveying how much he wants to let you know he is never going to lose you, ever again. 

“Hanbin…  baby… table” is the most you manage to wrangle out before he already hoists you up making his way toward a table in the back corner, the furthest away from the entrance. He stays silent, never say a word but it’s not like he ever needs to for you to understand his intention. You shed your wrinkled up hospital shirt from hours of cuddling the second your weight got support from the wooden table below and he follows suit. By God, after so long of holding in the thirst for him, the sight of him standing there shirtless admiring you with pupils so blown out his eyes are almost pitch black is enough to make you finish then and there. Ever so caring, he wraps his jacket around your now naked body, shielding you from the numbing gaze of the night wind as he lets his eyes trace out all the part of you he misses so much. 

“You will be the death of me.” He breathlessly mutters out before resuming the fight for dominant over your lips, smirking at how easily you submit to you. His hand like a map guiding his lips to explore the temptations of your body. Still staring deep into your eyes, the soft pads of his fingers caress the sharpness of your collar bones before dipping down letting the flowers of love bloom brightly on your soft skin. A gasp struggles out from the thousands of small tingling shocks running, spreading from your skin deep to your core. Your fingers quick to make home in his hair, tugging and scratching, pulling him closer. “You like that? Letting everyone knows you’re mine?” He sounds so devilishly captivating and all you could let pass your lips was a breathless “yes” before kicking your head back, basking in the gratification of his thumb circling, flicking your nipple gently while his lips working on the other one. “It’s still amaze me how perfectly your breasts mould to my hands, just so perfect, all for me.” He took a step back, eyes scrutinize every part of your body the best way possible with his hand still kneading at your soft mounds, his jacket barely hiding the world from gazing upon your naked body. He dips back in, sucking at your skin, inciting fire at with ever pass of his lips before his teeth dig into the already crimson marks. The man knows exactly what to do to get you work up and before you know it, “all yours” already slips out into the cold air stroking his ego further. 

Both hands on your side now, he slowly trails them down, thumbs pressing into your sensitive skin as his tongue trail down from the valley of your breast straight to your belly button, not bothering to stop once until he reaches the forbidden place that only he has the key to. Hands holding your hips down firmly in place, he orders a stern “open” before diving straight into your more than willing spreading thighs. No teasing tonight as his tongue quick to the point in toying with your aching swollen clit. Your body curl up in the sudden floodgate of pleasure opening from months of drought only to have him grasping on tighter surely to leave marks. “Don’t you dare move, princess. I need a good taste first, then I’ll make you feel good. You want that, don’t you? I would hate to deny my princess that, especially after this long of waiting.” You nod furiously, hand holding down your thighs as if that really would stop the instinctive jerk of your body in response to his tongue flicking but then he stops, just staring up at you. “You waited for me right?” He looks so dangerous with eyes nearly all black from lust, a snarl threatening to spill from his lips, brows furrow driving his features into a cross of half smugness half anger, as if daring you to say no, to find out what kind of punishment would awaits you if you did. To his heart content, you nod yes. “Use your words, baby.” He grunts and you yelp out a loud “yes” to meet his victorious smirk. Something about the way he was praising you with the simple use of “good girl” had you rolling your hip onto his lips almost instinctively. You gasp, hand clasping over your lips in worry that you had just done something wrong, that he would deny you of your end but he only response with a dip of two fingers inside your body. You nearly cry from the sudden pleasure, back hitting what would’ve been the cold hard surface of the table if not for the jacket that Hanbin had so attentively wrap around your body. “Come on, princess. You wanted this, at least do my skill some justice. Let me hear you.” Your eyes shut tight, hand grabbing at nothing from the already intense stroking of his fingers. “Fuck, Hanbin… Please. It’s been too long, don’t tease me.” No sooner than your begging mess collapse backward onto the cold hard surface, a charming smirk and a breath of sigh meet your senses in their dance of allure. “No patient, as always. When will you ever learn that good things, very good things will come if your pretty little body can just hold out. No matter, we all know how much I love you begging anyways…” That cocky little shit, you thought, how he manages to put you in this dumfounded trance no matter what he does you didn’t know. What you do know is judging from the swift sound of the drawstring of his sweat untying, you’re about to get exactly what you’ve been asking for so if it means stroking his big, but not by any mean unfound, ego then you will. 

Both his hands found purchase around your jaw as he settles in between your legs, eyes holding an intense gaze, burning you with all his love and desire. A soft kiss finds itself onto your lips with a fleeting whisper of “I love you” drawing out your own smile as you return the favor. 

“Ready, baby?” He growls, breaths growing heavy with anticipation as yours hasten knowing exactly what’s about to happen.

With a gentle nod, that devilish smirk is back on his gorgeous features as he watches your struggle to cope with the sudden flood of blinding pleasure. A moan escapes your lips, face twisting up looking near in pain although Hanbin knows otherwise as his face takes on a similar expression. He hold himself still for a moment, letting your body acclimate to the familiar feeling of him filling you up so wonderfully and he with the overwhelming pressure of being so intimately connected to the person he cares so deeply about. He sighs in relief, overjoy as your scrunched up expression blooms into a blissful smile, eyes being force open to stare up at him. So delicately, Hanbin eases back out as slowly as he could without denying either of you the pleasure that’s buzzing fast across your warming skin. A near scream involuntarily rips from your throat as he suddenly thrust hard, hips snapping against your body with the surge of primal desire. 

“You’re alright, baby?” Ever the gentleman, even being lost within his lust, nothing could stop him from assuring you are perfectly safe and sound, happy when a ragged “yes” then a “harder, Hanbin” stumbles from your parting lips. “Anything for my lady.” he had said before all you could see was stars as his thrusts increase in both speed and strength. Six months, half a year of being away from you, of not being to experience your love, all of it is behind him. He collapses atop your jerking body, lips resume its exploration of your body all the while a grin play upon his delectable lips.  

“Fuck, baby. Your body is amazing. I don’t think I will ever get enough.” He grunts, hardly able to pass a breath as his senses overload with everything that’s you.

“Neither can I but please…” You huff out, feeling your end ringing close, sweat dripping down your skin even with the cold breeze of night. “… I’m so close, Hanbin, please… I-” 

Begging, begging had always been his biggest weakness, just seeing you so submissive, so willing to cater to his ever needs just to chase your own ending with those innocent eyes despite being fuck into oblivion. No sooner than your pleading whines left your bruised lips from the endless tugging of his teeth, a hand softly, and skillfully wrap tight around your craned neck having your breath hitches in excitement. His eyes darken further, an almost dangerous smirk burst out with life as he stares down on you threatening, daring to see if you were brave enough to break eye contact with him. The small gasps with your struggle to your meet long awaited high has his thrust pounding you into the hard surface and his grunts deepen. You needed your high to drop so badly and you could tell by the way his face twisting up so painfully pleasurable, so did he. 

“Begging like that… You’re lucky we’re no- we’re not at home because you’d be in so much trouble. Teasing me, riled me up then begging with those doe eyes of yours. We both know you’re just a devious little girl, playing me to get what you want.” Hanbin’s hand retreats from your neck to carding through your hair, grasping it harshly, lips near assaulting your own. 

“What are you gonna do about it, boss? I- I think you’re more bark than bite.” You stutter out as confidently as you could but with Hanbin’s teeth clamping down tight on your battered lips, tugging it as harsh as he could, your voice shuts up fast, only satisfying moans were left. 

“What were you saying, baby?” He pulls away, his thrusts messy as he peers down on you almost contemptuously with that shit eating grin of his, knowing he has all the power over you. Your eyes hide away, nails clawing at the cold table after a hard thrust, thighs clenching hard around his body. Hanbin himself is beginning to lose control himself, one hand neatly atop your breast groping harshly, the other pressing your convulsing body down in place, head thrown back as he tries his best to keep it together to chase your high. 

“Hanbin… Fuck… I-I” Ears ringing, eyes blinding, your mind’s befuddle no words would come out even if you try.

“Let go, baby. Let me help you through it.” His words soothe your whole body into nirvana,  your back ripping off the cold surface as a scream for Hanbin tear from your throat, chest heaving violently reacting to the waves of pleasure roughing up your body after so long. Your hands grip tight on the flexed muscles of his upper arms as he hasten his pace, pushing your limit as small burst of lightening buzzes through your body from the overstimulation. You want so bad for him to stop but you can’t deny him his well earned release. You lick your lips, fingers ghosting over your own nipples as you stare deep in his eyes. You moan to egg him on and moan because that’s all you could do to cope with how sensitive everything is, how far he’s pushing your abused bare sex. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of you even with his own high shutting down just about every function in his brain. Hanbin slumps over, hands grasping your shoulder tighter as he feels the coil in his lower ab tensing up with each thrust. One last grunt before his eyes flutter shut and warmth spread all over your sore, overworked inside. Ignoring the dead weight pinning down your body, your hands cup his cheeks pulling him close for one last fervid kiss before letting the lull of exhaustion carries you both to rest. 

Laying there in his arm, completely bare for anyone to see feel strangely comforting. Neither of you were shy when it comes to baring all for the world to see but this moment is breaching any limit you had set before. Even with the lack of the warm cover and soft mattress awaiting to serve your weary bodies just a few floor below, you’re perfectly happy in this moment with Hanbin flushing tight on your back, face nuzzling close to your hair.

“You know I was really jealous…” You speak up to break the silent that by no mean dull. You just miss hearing his voice.

“Hmm? Jealous of my friend?” A kiss finds itself resting on your disgustingly sweat filled locks that hanbin too kindly had said was still perfect even post sex.

“I mean, that’s obvious … I was talking about before.”

“Before?” He parroting back, humming in confusion. What had you got up to now.

“Like, before I confessed to you… I was really jealous. All those girls that rubbed up on you at parties, practically sexed  you in front of hundreds of people. I hated that I couldn’t be them.” You sigh at the thought of being back in that place, of not being able to love Hanbin so publicly.

“Was that why you were so grumpy all the time? That has to be the cutest thing ever. I made you so jealous that you finally decided to confess? Damn, if I knew all it took was me side eyeing other girls, I would’ve done that years earlier.” He suddenly exclaims with excitement as if it would’ve changed the sequence of life.

“Okay, don’t be haughty. i was so goddamn out of my mind jealous and pissed off that you weren’t looking at me and touching all those girls I near gave up.” With a flick to his forehead, you sass back and watch as hanbin winces in pain but a smile never left his lips.

“But you didn’t, and I can’t express how lucky I am. Thank you for not giving up on me… Even when I’m the biggest asshole in the world.” 

“You’re my morning cup of joe. Without you I’m nothing but a crankier, insufferable version of myself. You made me better.” So softly, your words bring out the brightest smile he could muster up as a big kiss meets your lips.

Something about post coital cuddle really gets to you in ways even the actual act of sex can’t. It’s just so intimate in the best way possible. You trust someone enough to let them fill you up with euphoria but to be able to just lay there and small talk, even just share a laugh, that show true love, true desire, and real trust. There you lay in Hanbin’s arms, smiling to yourself for being able to just listen to his chest heavily heaving. You curl up against his body, skin sticky, hair probably look like you haven’t wash it in ages judging from how it’s matting to your forehead. Hanbin as always, looking ethereally, glowing under the pale moon and the sight assaulting light pollution of the city. If only all those people in those planes could see you both, they would probably burst into flame from the sinful sight. Yet something about this silent of satisfying moans and heavy pants that’s just so beautiful. Little did you know, Hanbin had plan to make this moment all the more magnificent and lasting forever. 

“baby, I know- I know this isn’t the best time for this but…” He huffs out, hesitant on what words to use and how to not offend you. His hand dips into the pocket of his jacket inconspicuously, holding that small box that’s key to his future tightly as if holding onto a battery source, a motivation to encourage what was about to happen next.

“What is it, Hanbin?” Neck cranes, you did your best to decipher his hesitation, hoping whatever it is, it’ll continue this love-high you’re both on.

“Doesn’t this remind you of that summer…”

“You mean the one where you fucked me senseless in the field behind your vacation home?”

“Yes, yes but it was more than just fucking though, wasn’t it? At least for me it was so much more. It was the first time we really just let go of all our reservation and insecurities and just enjoy one another…”

“Of course it was just more than sex. It’s always more than meets the eyes when I’m around you. I still can’t wrap my head around how lucky I am to meet someone like you, Hanbin. I just, it’s beyond me. Thank you, baby, for everything.”

“I’m glad you feel the same way because that’s how I’m feeling right now. I don’t know if we haven’t been together for so long or that, that i’m just so elated to be with you again, to have another chance. My heart, my soul can’t even comprehend your present right now. It’s like you’re all my best dream coming true and you’re just laying here in my arm. You trust me enough to let me take the lead for so long and even after I royally fucked us both up, you’re still here. How are you even real, Y/n. I thanks God daily to let me have a chance to meet you, to love you, and for you to love me back. It’s more than anything I could ever ask for in life. When I’m with you, my money, my status, my company, none of it matter. I can’t even put in words my affection for you, my obsession, lust, desire, need, want, everything. I’ve never feel so strongly about anyone before in my life. If one day I fail at my job, lose it all, I honestly wouldn’t care because I know I have you and you wouldn’t leave me just because I lost all the dazzling part that comes with CEO Hanbin. You, miss, you love me even without all of that. After months of being alone I realize, whenever you ask me for things, it had always been my time, my love, or my affection. Never once did you ask me for material things and I can’t even say enough how thankful I am for that. When I look at you, I see my future. Future of just living in a simple home, spending our days together, visiting our parents, adopting pets, raising kids… I, that’s exactly what I want and I know it’s so crass of me to be asking so much of you especially after I took so much but Y/n, baby. I love you. I love you so much and would you do me the honor of marrying me? I would love for nothing more but to spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you. So please, baby. Marry me.”

“Hanbin, I-…” You wanted to scream from how happy he had just made you. God knows how long you waited for this day and after so much trials and tribulations, all the test of life thrown at the both of you, you made it. 

“It’s okay if you need time to think. I know this is a big-”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, Hanbin. Thousand, millions times over. Yes. You can ask me tomorrow, a year from now, 10 years from now, it will always be yes. I love you so much.”

Happiness doesn’t begin to describe the surge of emotion flooding Hanbin’s body. All he could do is what he always does, hold you close and just let you feel the beating of his heart. He has no words, all thoughts lost upon him as he presses a long time coming kiss on his soon to be wife’s lips. He had dreamed of this day, this moment ever since he decided to pursue you. He mulled over it many night of what kind of spectacle, extravaganza would he set up to make this moment as perfect as can be for you but this, God, this is so much better than anything he could come up with. There’s no flashy event, no showy materials things, no one else around but just you and him. Neither of you had ever let the monetary things in life get in the way of your love and this proposal was the most perfect thing for the simple couple that you both is. Just you, him and the contagious joy that was spreading lights into even the drab atmosphere of the hospital. Pulling back, tears still welling up in his eyes, he finally retrieves the box that had been resting in the jacket that was still wrapped tightly around your body, the box he thought he would never get the chance to use. 

“I don’t have the best taste in jewelry so if you don’t like it, we can get something else.”

“Kim Hanbin, you should know better than that by now. I love whatever you get and to be honest, even if you don’t get me a ring, I would still marry you. Like, you really think I’m gonna let you escape a second time? Hell no.”

“You’re so silly sometimes… Hand please, Mrs. Hanbin!”

“Uhm, I don’t think you can call me that yet, Mr. Hanbin.” You blink back a few tears, trying your best not to lose it then and there, screaming to the world just how happy you are.

“I don’t care, you always were my Mrs. even from the first second.”

“Oh my god, this is beautiful. babe, you didn’t need to get me anything exorbitant… I mean it is very beautiful and I love it.”

“I know, I just I was so happy when I went to pick out the ring that I got carried away… Only the best for my wife.”

“Hanbin. My husband. Forever. I’d like that.”

“Y/n. My wife. Always mine. I’m never letting you go.”

Thanks goodness the night wrapped up without a hitch as you both hand in hand brave the world as newly engaged lovebirds. Bundled up in the hospital blanket, you shied away behind Hanbin’s back, giddy from the thought that the groups of nurses dying for a smoke break that was now trudging up pass you could’ve walk right in the middle of your love making session had they decided to take a break just 20 minutes earlier. Your cold pale skin rosey from the overwhelming excitement both physically and emotionally as you both bowed back to the nurses. 

“Okay, missy. You can stop giggling like a kid now. Did you realize we could’ve got caught?” Hanbin grimaced, groaning as he tucked you back onto the spacious bed.

“I’m sorry… but I can’t help it.” Blanket pulled up to hide half your face to avoid further scrutiny from your handsome man, you pulled a pout that although he can’t see, Hanbin knew very well prominent on your face.

“I seriously cannot with you anymore, baby. Get some rest, I’m going to head down and reschedule your discharge time.”

With a small wave and a muttered of “be back soon” you let drowsiness overtook your senses as you watch him disappeared down the hall. Soon after, your prince returns, a serene smile on his lips as he watches your chest heaves gently, a glint of hope sparkling on your finger pulling a smile onto his lips, before shutting the door and crawling in right next to you. 

“Goodnight, princess. I promise to always be here.”

A sweet kiss to your forehead before the sandman works his magic over the room. For once in months, Hanbin finally sleep at ease.

“Hanbin, how is she?” Worries spill from Mrs. Kim the second she steps foot inside your hospital room, bag thrown aside carelessly as she hover, hands patting your cheeks and forehead slightly. The news of you staying an extra few hours travel fast, especially with her at the edge of her seat having seen you disappeared from her life once before.

“She’s well now. The doctors finished all their test last night and she’s clear to go home.” Hanbin smiles, albeit exhausted, still mesmerizing. His eyes couldn’t tear away from your still slightly pale skin from the long road of recovering, grateful that the rosy tone has slowly returning.

“They told me she was suppose to go home this morning, it’s 5PM. What happened?” Concern shakes the whole room as she approaches your still body, curling up so peacefully in a fetal position, fast asleep.

“Nothing… I kept her up late last night so we missed the discharge time.”

“What did you do to my daughter, Kim Hanbin.” Stern and straight to the point, Hanbin’s surprise his mom hadn’t gotten his ear under her fingers.

“We talked, a lot. About everything that happened…”

“And?”

“See for yourself, mom.” Hanbin chirpy, cryptic tone did nothing but making his mom rages with uneasiness. She follows the direction of his gaze, befuddlement darken the normally kind eyes. Even after a good minute of staring, she still couldn’t figure out what the hell her crazy son was talking about. All she sees is you quietly snoring away from probably exhaustion caused by her son. 

“Mom, come on. Look harder.” Hanbin groans, earning a glare from his mom. She shakes her head incredulously at his ridiculous antic before laying eyes on his hand that was now reaching out to yours. Intertwining fingers, he gently pulls your hand on his lap, presenting it like the most exquisite piece of artifact at a museum. His thumbs stroking the back of your hand softly, a smirk appears on his lips the second her eyes widen in shock the second that insanely magnificent piece of jewelry that officially puts an end to both your heartbreak shines bright in the sleepy evening sun.

“I, oh my. Is that what I think it is. Son, you better not be joking with me right now. I will kill you with my bare hand then bring you back so your dad can punish you if you’re lying right now. No!” She gasps loudly, stirring your restful form. Hanbin presses his index to his lips with a soft shush before hovering above your wincing features, planting soft kisses along your forehead and cheeks as he would whenever you get nightmare.

“It’s okay, baby.” He coos softly, free hand stroking your hair lightly as the other one still holding onto yours tightly, his mom couldn’t help but relax into a motherly smile as she watches her baby boy becoming a man, a gentleman just like she hope he would be. “Shh, baby. It’s ok, sleep.” A few more kisses meet your lips before a smile breaks out on your lips as you settle back into a deep slumber.

“Yes, mom. it’s exactly what you think it is on her ring finger. She said yes last night… We were up talking most of last night, hence the dela-” 

“Oh my dear lord. My baby.” Mrs. Kim lunges forward and before Hanbin could even reacts, she’s already planting kisses all long his cheeks. “Finally, you did something right.”

“Okay, thanks mom. way to make me feel like a loser.”

“No, no, no. No son of mine is a loser if he could right all his wrongs. I’ll leave you two love birds alone. This is the best news I have in awhile.” She teases as her gaze lovingly falls onto the object that just unlock a whole new life for her son.

Happiness can’t even begin to cover the mutual feeling share by mother and son as they gaze upon your drowsy form, matching smile on both their lips. Mrs. Kim rub circle on her son’s back, a mother’s comfort, letting him know that no matter what, Hanbin will always have her full support. A few more minutes of chatting and Mrs. Kim bid farewell to a still giddy Hanbin. Unlike her usual calm facade, she wears a bright smile on her lips, tone of voice could barely contain the excitement for the future of her growing family. 

“Mom, can you keep this a secret for a little while longer? I just want to have this moment between me and her for a bit… You know how everyone gets with the congratulations, and the questions, and the blah blah blah.” Hanbin muses over with his mom snuggle close under his arm as the pair saunter to the exit.

“Of course. It’s your news to share, take as much time as you two need. Lord know you both need some peace and quiet time to yourself. The last few months had been stormy and tumultuous to say the least.” Hanbin’s mom sigh rather than a heavy breath, it was filled with relief that the struggle had passed for her dear son and soon to be official daughter because let’s face it, you had always been a daughter in her eyes. 

“Thanks, mama. The Mrs. and I appreciate your discretion.” Hanbin grins widely, catching himself letting the new term flowing off his tongue so easily.

“Look at you, already speaking like a true married man. Don’t worry about anything, alright. Just take time to ease back into this. Now I don’t claim to have the most perfect marriage in the world. Close, but not quite.” Mrs. Kim chuckles a bit at her own boastfulness. “ Marriage aren’t always going to be a walk in the park and it shouldn’t be. You’ll fight, you’ll cry, sometimes things will be thrown but at the end of the night, never go to sleep angry at each other. After all the glitz and glamour of the world fade away, your partner is all you really have. Even your children will leave you someday but your spouse won’t. You both are about to embark on the longest journey of your lives so don’t feel like you need to rush because of other people. Who care what other people think and say about your relationship, as long as you’re content with yourself, that’s all that matter. Take all the time in the world until it feels right.”

With a parting hug, Hanbin watches as his mom drive off into the distant, nodding to himself, engraving her every word into his mind. Still stuck in cloud 9, he found himself just staring at the spot that his mom had parked a few moments ago before jerking out of his day dream. You’re waiting for him in the room and finally, finally he can just run in and pull you into his arms. No one can ever take you away from him, ever again. He has to right to be a smug bastard about being the only man in your life that could kiss you good morning and snuggle you at night. It’s all beginning to sink in faster than an anchor dropping at sea now that he has a moment of complete silent to think. You’re his fiancee. No joke, you’re really his forever. Internally freaking out, Hanbin screams off the top of his lung a loud cheer of happiness. His voice echoing through the empty parking structure with all its might, drawing attention to the now red as a tomato boy. He bows apologetically for disturbing everyone’s peace as he tear off into the hospital once more. Swinging the door wide open, he’s just stand there grinning at your still serene body curling up on the bed. 

“Baby, time to get ready to go home.” He sinks his weight onto the bed just next to you, pressing a big kiss onto your cheek and watches as you stir in your sleep.

“Hmm?” You response sleepily and Hanbin couldn’t help but giggle at your cat liked nature, curling up in a ball while pawing his pestering hands away.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart. You can rest more at home. I won’t get yell at for sleeping with you there.”

“Just a few more minutes, Mr. I’m tired.” You groan, rolling over to the other side of the bed to avoid his pestering. Sighing loudly, Hanbin mumbles a defeated “What am I going to do with you” before falling onto the bed, ignoring the nagging of his mind that he might get in trouble with the mean nurse again. You grin in happiness of just how much of a softie Hanbin gets around you as he snuggles close, spooning you tightly from behind.

“You know…” Hanbin suddenly speaks up, arms tighten even further around your body. “I’ve spent so many nights just sitting there, staring at this ring and wonder about the what ifs and could’ve been. I never thought this moment would be possible.” The gentleness of his voice like the most expensive tickling of ivories in your ears as his fingers ghost over your own, thumb rubbing the back of your hand delicately. “I didn’t think us was ever going to happen again but here I am with my beautiful fiancee in my arms. I think anything is possible, wouldn’t you agree?” That playful tone, he’s up to his cheeky business and you’ll be damned if you don’t join in.

“Hmm, rightly so.” You quip, taking your chance to glance back at the lovestruck boy with the glistening smile on his lips.

“So I think, if my beautiful fiancee… God, I’ll never get tired of saying that…” He pauses for a moment before a soft peck graces you. “If my girl wants another 10 minutes of sleep, that’s the least I can do right?” He jests with a small giggle, leaving you rolling your eyes at his ever unpredictable mood change.

“hmm… ‘s that right?” You yawn lazily, pulling the blanket over your shoulders before fluttering shut your eyes once again.

“Yea. You know, it’ll take me at least 10 minutes to finish the rest of your paperwork, pulling the car up, moving your luggage into the car, wait for the nurse to get a wheelchair… 20 minutes even. This way you get a few extra minutes of napping and I don’t get yell at.” He exclaims enthusiastically as if he had just found the solution to world hunger. “SEE! I am so husband material. Compromise is the key to marriage, I’ve been told. If only my VP and the board of directors see me now.” He hisses, no doubt rolling his eyes at all his employees, dreaming about sassing them on compromising 101. “And they say I don’t know how to compromise because I’m stubborn as a bull.” 

“Is that what it is, compromising? I think you’re so whipped for me that you’ll do anything. It’s okay, Mr. Let’s go home before we both get yell at cause let’s face it, if we do, I’m using my sick patient in the hospital card and throwing you under the bus.” You feign a few small coughs and he rolls his eyes for the blatant betrayal already even before you tie the knot.

“Shhh. It’s compromising for my lovely wife, okay? And no can do, Mrs. Lay back down. I made my plan and I will see it through.” Honestly at this point, you’re wide awake but decided to entertain his playful antic anyways. After all this time, he deserves some joy, especially deserve to have his way with you back. Truly, you really just want to soak in all that attention he has to give even if all the days after, you’d be side by side until time dies. You watch as he fumbles off the bed, limbs tangled in the blanket before he shoots you a teasing wink and huffs off down the hall to the nurse station. 

The gentle heat of a blush creeping onto your cheeks at the realization that Hanbin is yours, for all eternity, it will be just you and him. Finally you could watch him walk away without feeling your heart being tear apart and it’s the best feeling in the world. Whatever happens now, you know your dear husband will surely shield you from it all as you vow to protect his heart for as long as you both shall live. Whatever happens now you can breathe easy knowing never again will either of you walk along the shadow path of loneliness and that’s enough for you. Whatever happens now, just Hanbin will be enough. 

Part 1 | Part 2