#its been too long since ive experienced pure emptiness

[wrishwrosh]

reading two chapters of a willa cather novel and getting immediately bodied by homesickness. placed in an illegal chokehold by longing for the prairies

[satoruvt]

fanfic writer tag game <3

helloooo <3 thank u for tagging me @hannie-dul-set this is so cute lol

ummmm! i think i will tag. @leejuyeeon and @seokmingiggles !! and as always anyone else who wants to <33

peum ~

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

omg lets see if i can do this in order. i think the first fandom i ever wrote fanfic for was creepypasta LMAOO and then... fairy tail? then 5 seconds of summer, then maybe it 2017?? voltron legendary defender, detroit become human, monster prom and mystic messenger kind of overlapped, the arcana !!! then my hero academia, haikyuu, a Little bit of demon slayer... i think thats it lol

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

seventeen is all for rn, but i’m thinking of also writing for mha again and adding jjk!!

3. how long have you been writing?

oh wow for like... probably around 6 years? maybe 6 and a half

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

rn just tumblr, i used to post more actively on ao3 but i havent since i started writing for kpop

5. what is your favourite genre to write?

ahhh like !!! comfort fics!!! i think theres something really sweet in those unspoken feelings during moments you think you’ll never forget... the idea of being with someone and you’re just so sure they’re your favorite person, and then warmth that comes with that realization... wahh

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

oh it depends i think. for longer fics i like to plan them out, but i really wing it with like timestamps or shorter ones

7. one shot or multi-chapter?

ONE SHOTS. my god i fucking suck at multi-chapter shit LMAOO ive only done 1 series like that and it was so rough for me lol

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

hm how do i explain this... anything that makes sense? however long it takes for it to feel like the chapter/fic is summed up or completed. i used to worry about word counts a lot but now i rarely pay attention to them, both in reading and writing

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

if we’re talking about multi-chaptered, then the color of you wins at 17k !! in terms of one shots, it’s for now; forever at 9k!

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

oh boy. i think... anything from the last like. 8 months? my svt stuff for sure!! i went a while without writing in between like january-late november 2020, and i was worried that my writing would suffer a lot... it took a sec for me to get back into the groove of things but i’m feeling happier than ever with the stuff i write now. i feel like ive matured about the way i approach my own writing and ideas, and how i do everything, and my fics make me really proud. ive started writing within different aus that i hadnt touched before, or talking about different feelings or ideas, etc... i really feel like ive grown with this most recent burst lol, and i love working on them! i get so hyped up when im in the middle of writing or even planning, im just so excited to share all of it hehe

11. favorite request you've have written and why (if any?)

ah its been so long since ive worked with requests that i cant remember anything LOL

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

yes. it is comfort and content. it is the feeling of love. it is holding hands on a walk in the middle of spring and smelling flowers. it is the sound of leaves when a gust of wind blows past. it is looking into ur lovers eyes and feeling nothing but pure fondness

13. current number of wips?

fuck like somewhere around 20 probably

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

i really like repetition (specifically in sentences if that makes sense??), LOTS of unspoken things (even if i picture a fic with an established relationship, i dont say it within the fic; and especially concerning romantic feelings, i love when things go unsaid and are FELT full force), i think a lot of detailed rambling... i really like to try and describe emotions and stuff in the most abstract and obscure ways lol i feel like it makes things a little more palpable and honest

15. a quote you like from a published story

im gonna do a few. Lol. firstly this long one from pretend people can unlearn:

“Are you…” Jeonghan starts, and when you look at him, his eyes are still on the city in front of you. “Are you ever afraid that we’ll fall out of love?”

It never occurred to you that this was love. It’s not like the love you’ve experienced in the past, not even close. But maybe… maybe that’s why you never leave, why you hold yourself back from certain arguments like it might fix everything. Maybe love is the reason why Jeonghan still seems to believe in you. Why he promises he’ll be the best thing for you despite always breaking that promise.

(Is it love, a voice in your head questions, or is it longing?)

It takes you a while to respond. “I don’t know,” you end up saying, because you really don’t. Jeonghan turns his head and looks at you, and you half expect him to start an argument in the middle of night, out on the street like this. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Would that… be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan answers, just like you. His voice is soft. You want to reach for his hand just to hold it. “You’re still…”

He pauses, like he’s trying to find the right word. You let him take his time, for once, instead of accusing him of the worst. “I’m still?”

“Everything,” he tells you. He looks so sad and you reach out for him because it’s the only thing you can offer. You think the worst thing about your relationship with Jeonghan is that you will always believe him when he gets like this, just like you’ll believe him when he takes it back in the heat of a fight.

next is from like there isn’t something missing <3

But you’re crying into his chest because it’s not you, and it’s not him. Seungcheol wonders if it was always meant to be like this, if the two of you were always meant to part or if something… if something just went wrong, somewhere. A bump that did a bit more damage than either of you thought.

He tries not to think about it now. Tears fill his own eyes as he presses a kiss to your hair because he loved you. He truly did.

“I was so lucky to love you,” he murmurs, voice a cracked whisper. “I’m so happy I got the chance.”

When Seungcheol wakes up the next morning in an empty bed, he’s not surprised. But the Post-It note that’s dressed in your handwriting…

Well. It’s over.

and this last one from only for you, i will dance !!

“This will always be our own time,” he says. “We’ll meet here.”

You know. He says it every time. It never fails to make your heart soar.

“Our thirteenth month,” you say, just like every time. Chan smiles.

He kisses you so strong you feel yourself falling.

16. a quote from an unpublished story

ahh ok ill do a few here too!!! one is something ive begun writing, the other is one that i’ve just been working on planning out <3

Smoke blows past somebody else’s lips and partially obstructs Wonwoo’s view of you.

He hasn’t been to a party like this in a long time. It’s elegant, more of a gala than anything. He can’t remember who threw it or for what reason. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes, watching you make conversation with the partygoers. They all have old money to throw around, the symbolism stitched into their suit jackets and red-rimmed heels; remnants of it left on tables and in the contents of expensive cigars.

You play them like you are one of them, tell them the right things with a silver tongue. Wonwoo always watches, plays the part of an observer. It’s impressive, the way you float around the room like it’s nothing.

Wonwoo observes; Wonwoo knows things.

and the second one...

"you don't know me," you respond. your voice carries no bite, just a fact, and joshua knows this

"i want to," he says after a second. "if you'll let me."

and he's asking permission to be your friend, to be close to you, something so tender and strangely polite

it makes you feel almost sad

"don't expect too much," you say, a little teasing. joshua only smiles

17. space for you to say something to your readers

wahhh thank you all so much!!! when i first got into writing for kpop it was a lot different mostly because i think... i was writing stuff for different anime before, and i had built up a big following because of that and my works always did like, really exceptional in terms of notes and feedback and such, and getting into kpop... has been rough on that end 💀 but i appreciate your support thus far, even if it’s small... i’m still working towards a standard that i have for myself!!! so please be patient with me, thank you for the support !!

also please find it in yourself to leave lil comments or any sort of feedback... please..... PLEASE... any creator ever understands this struggle please always try to do this!!! for me and for any other creator you follow and enjoy content from <333

[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter seven)

pairings: reader/bang chan, reader/han jisung side pairings: 
established changbin/minho, reader/bang chan/han jisung, possible bang chan/han jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, near-death experiences, discussion of death, drug usage to cope with emotions, profanity, discussion of pregnancy, drug dealer!au, organized crime!au. also: FEELINGS. word count: about 5,480 also can be found on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter seven: before it breaks in half and then we bend it back again

recommended tracks: I’ll be your reason by illenium, in your arms by illenium, everything I wanted by billie eilish, when I was older by billie eilish, back to u by slander and william black, hope world by j-hope, slow dancing in the dark by joji, everything in its right place by radiohead, moon by krrum. playlist can be found here!

note: dunno about y’all but i'm still really upset over chapter six, so i’m sorry if you are too :’) there’s a lot of feelings regarding the death that I’m trying to wrap up in this chapter. couldn’t really make traditional Korean rites work the way they’re generally presented, so if the inaccuracy bothers you, I’m sorry! also I was a little baked writing some of these parts so if it’s too existential, my bad lol.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

There was one time, when you were seven years old, your mother had taken you down to Fukuoka to visit your grandparents. You were close to the harbour, slipping out of her vision for just a moment when the waves pulled up on the coast and sucked you in. The warmth that took over your body as you fell out of consciousness was welcoming, like receiving the deepest hug of your life. It had taken over you, from the tips of your toes and dissipating with a tingle in your forehead.

When you were pulled from the water, brought back from the entrance of purgatory, however, you felt miserable. You could have sworn you felt the oxygen enter every cell in your body, coming back from death. Everything ached and burned, abruptly springing back to life.

Your eyes ripped open, staring into the clouds above you. White flower petals were gusting along with the wind. The burning you felt in your chest and your arms was familiar to the time you experienced as a child: jarring, making you start to panic. It felt as though lava was coursing through your veins.

“- is too elevated, I can’t -“ a familiar voice travels around your head. You know the voice, but you can’t place exactly who it is. “- sats are - “ the voice cuts out as you notice someone stab your wrist with a branding iron, hot fluid burning its way up your arm. The voice says your name, it echoing around in the space between your ears for a minute. “ - alright, but it’s going to -“

The darkness envelopes you in an instant, drawing you back to the empty space in your head, where you’re not sure consciousness really exists. “You don’t want to be here,” a familiar voice whispers from in front of you. You’re unable to picture the shape that’s clouding your vision, still lost in trying to place the voice.

“Trust me,” the voice says again. You’re about to open your mouth to say something, but you find it impossible to get your muscles to move. “You don’t want to be here. Go back.”

You can’t help but think why you’re here, how you’re here. “I need you to trust me,” the voice says again, getting further and further away from you. “It’s not your time yet.”

Your eyes tear open again, and you’re now in a sterile, white room, the sound of machines humming and trilling in the background. Two weights pull you down on either side of you: Jisung and Christopher, each holding one of your hands, resting at your sides.

You make a pointed effort to shift your shoulders, muscles adjusting for what feels like the first time in ages. A deep, throaty groan comes up from your lungs as you shift, and it startles Jisung awake.

“Oh my god,” he sleepily breathes out, shaking his head as he grabs your face, “Bunny, you’re back, oh my god!” Christopher starts to shift, and Jisung slaps his shoulder a couple of times. “Chan, wake up! She’s back!”

Christopher wastes no time shaking himself awake, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into him.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you grumble, unable to really express the burning sensation taking over your body. “Hurts, that hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Christopher gasps, releasing you from his grip. He stares at you with a look of disbelief and exhaustion painted over his face. “You’re finally back.”

“What are you talking about?” You shake your head, somehow pulling your arm out of invisible cement and gripping your hair. “What happened? Where am I?” Christopher and Jisung look at each other, Jisung making an effort to bite his lip and look back down to the bed.

“It’s been a month, baby.” Christopher interlaces his fingers in yours, reaching his free hand up to your face. “You’ve been out for a month and we had no idea if you were even going to come back.”

It had been a week exactly since Changbin took a bullet for you. Minho spent a lot of time on the couch, staring out the window and clearly contemplating life. He looked like he lost a couple of kilograms in just a few days, his cheeks sunken in and his face an ashy grey.  Felix came over a few times to try and get him to take care of himself, hooking him up to IV fluids every other day.

Minho would end up yelling at him every time he was hooked up to the IV. “I just want you to put me out and leave me alone,” he said, tossing a fistful of plastic packaging at his junior. “I’m tired of fucking dealing with this. Just keep me out until the funeral, alright?”

Felix would sigh under his breath, eventually pushing a couple vials of liquid into Minho’s IV, causing him to collapse within himself in seconds. “I can’t keep doing this to him, hyung.” Felix looked up at Christopher, his eyes clearly drained of energy and emotion. “It’s not ethical, for one, but it’s mostly not fair to Lee-hyung. He’s got to address this at some point. You know that.”

Christopher leans up against the wall, sighing heavily. “I know,” he whispered, “I’m thankful for all of the work you’ve been doing with him, though, Felix. You’re an asset to us.”

Felix dips his head in appreciation, but clearly still has something on his mind. “Hyung,” he presses, but Christopher waves his hand in the air.

“I know,” he says, walking to Felix and leaning down in front of him. “You’re absolutely correct. I need him at his best before I can figure out what to do with the family. It’s out of respect to Changbin; Minho knew the organization best after him, just because of his proximity. Once I can get that information from him, I’ll know how to handle this. All of this.”

Jisung shifts uncomfortably on the couch next to you, biting his lip. “Do you know what we’re doing with Hyunjin?”

Christopher opens his mouth to speak, but he interrupts himself before he says anything. Felix chimes in for him, however, “Seungmin has been handling him during the day. We got the location of a couple Triad hotspots in Seoul and Busan, but he didn’t know as much as we had hoped. He’s been really broken up over Seo-hyung, so he’s not talking much.”

Christopher rolls his eyes, scoffing. “I can’t believe the nerve of this bastard.” Felix nods, peeling off the nitrile gloves from his hands.

“I’ve got the propofol, I just need you to give the word,” the bleach-blond man says under his breath. You’re not sure if he’s serious, but the look that Christopher gives Felix as he says that makes your blood run cold.

“You’re too eager,” he simply says. “Hyunjin may have royally fucked up, but he’s still a brother. We decide what to do together.”

Jisung throws his hands up in the air, falling into the back of the couch and sighing in frustration. “We have two days, right? That’s when it’s happening?” Christopher nods his head, turning to look at Minho.

“Yeah. Minho said he wanted it on a Saturday, so that’s when it’s going to happen.” Christopher stands up, moving to cover Minho with a blanket and helps adjust him to a more comfortable position. “He’s been trying to get a hold of Changbin’s family all week, but no dice. Once we joined the family, he tried to distance himself as much as possible. He hasn’t even spoken with his sister in three years.”

Christopher sits down on the couch at Minho’s feet, right in front of Felix. “I wish he didn’t have to go through this. I know he’s been having a hard time with the family since the Shanghai incident, ready to leave everything behind just so he and Changbin could have lived a quiet life somewhere else.” Christopher lets out a soft scoff, then rubs Minho’s leg.

“He got really mad at me not long before I met you,” he says, looking at you with a half-smile, “Changbin was scolding me, telling me I was wasting my time in the family, that I needed to find someone like Minho so I had a reason to leave. We were at my apartment, laying on the floor in the studio and smoking a joint, recording some instrumentals that came to us. Then he just drops that on me, saying I should leave. We were too old to get any real benefit from the group anymore.

“He was upset, telling me that Minho wanted to settle down with him, but they were too deep into the family to really explore it as a real option.” Christopher continues to rub Minho’s leg, the younger man shifting in his sleep beneath him. “Changbin never let himself express emotions - especially not love - in front of anyone but me. He even had a hard time with me. I remember him telling me that he had fallen for Minho right after the Shanghai incident. He was pacing in my apartment for a good hour, working up the courage to tell me.

“I remember he panicked. He was pulling the hair out of his head, starting to tear up when he told me. ‘I’m in love with this guy,’ he said, ‘and I know it’s inappropriate and I know I shouldn’t, he took a fuckin’ bullet for me.’” Christopher smiles a bit, bringing his hand up to Minho’s face, brushing his hair to the side. “Changbin would keep panicking, telling me he was overthinking everything and he was convinced that there was no way Minho would even like him like that. But then, he started noticing. Minho would say things during recovery. He’d look at him for a moment too long, he’d touch him for a split second longer than he intended.”

Christopher smiles a bit wider. “Then it happened. Changbin had gotten Minho to walk a hundred metres. Minho collapsed in his arms, so excited over his achievement. He was so excited and happy, he didn’t care that he had fallen, because Changbin was there to help him. And Changbin just did it - he kissed Minho. Kissed him quite a bit, is what he told me.

“I remember he was so upset, because everything felt so right. But he got Minho back up to his bed and left him, too ashamed to show his face around him again.” Christopher runs his hand through his hair, still staring at the man below him with a smile. “Minho called me while Changbin was at my apartment, panicking - he always has really good timing. Changbin pretended like he wasn’t there, wasn’t watching my every movement and reaction as Minho talked in my ear.

“Minho was annoyed, but not surprised, ‘Changbin just does this,’ he told me. ‘Freaks out, then hides, and gets all embarrassed over how embarrassed he is. Bet he’s redder than a beet and freaking out over this.’ And he was right, Changbin was curled up on the couch, hands in his hair, face a real deep shade of red.

“He told me to tell Changbin to stop freaking out, that he had a feeling he was there and was pretending to blend into the background. He’d be waiting for him as long as it took, that he wasn’t mad.”

Jisung makes an effort to hide him rubbing his eyes, but you manage to see him out of the corner of your eye. You pull him into your chest and grip him tightly. “I was mad,” Minho sleepily grumbles, shifting from underneath Christopher. “I really was, though. Mad he kept it all in. Mad he didn’t trust me. Mad he kissed me and left. Mad he was going to shove his feelings under the rug again. Wasn’t fair to himself.”

“H-hey,” Christopher says, a look of discomfort passing over his face, “how long have you been listening?”

“Long enough,” Minho rubs his eyes, sighing, and adjusting himself to stare up at the ceiling. “I knew some shit like this was going to happen eventually. Bin was always stubborn when it came to you guys, saying you annoyed the shit out of him more than his actual family. Hell,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at Christopher, “you were his family, as far as he was concerned. I was always worried I was gonna lose him to you, that he had some deep-seated, secret crush on you.”

Christopher’s face shifts, probably understanding why Minho would feel that way. “He always said you weren’t his type and he wasn’t your type. That you kissed once when you got really drunk in high school together and it was weird and awkward. You’d swore to never talk about it again, but you loved him anyways. Always supported him.”

“Yeah,” Christopher says with a laugh as he rubs his eyes. “Changbin was always the best friend I never knew I needed. He never judged me or nagged me about dumb shit I did. He would say ‘just stay positive, it’ll work out eventually.’ And he was right, every single time. Man,” he reached out to Minho, grabbing his kneecap, “he loved the hell out of you, though.”

Minho scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Oh, I know. He always tried to act tough in front of you guys, especially when I was around, but when it was just the two of us?”

“He was totally different, wasn’t he?” Christopher says with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Minho nods, closing his eyes. “Night and day. It’d be just the two of us and he’d do the cutest shit. We’d curl up on the couch and watch old romantic comedies. He always made himself seem a lot tougher than he was, but he was always the little spoon when we’d cuddle up to each other. Always fell asleep with his head on my chest. Wouldn’t let me go to bed if he thought I was mad at him, because he always said it was important to never go to bed angry. He’d take up the whole bed and huff and puff until I reassured him I wasn’t mad at him.”

Christopher suddenly pulls Minho into his chest, holding him tightly for a couple of moments. It takes a minute, but you notice them both crying quietly against each other. Felix gets up, throwing his gloves into the kitchen rubbish before leaning over the sink. Jisung makes a pointed effort not to look at you as he digs his face into your chest, wrapping his arms around your ribcage.

The guys have a moment to themselves, letting them grieve however they felt the need to. It felt like the energy in the room was different. You finally understood just how close everyone really was to each other, that they really did view themselves as family, that it wasn’t just an empty title. Changbin was the one that brought them all together in one way or another, and now he was gone. Someone would have to fill those shoes eventually, but that wasn’t important right now.

Minho deeply inhales, lifting his head up dramatically, and looking at Felix. “Lix,” he says, motioning for him to come closer, “I’ve been horrible to you all week.”

“Yeah,” Felix sniffs, nodding his head as he walks to the couch, kneeling down in front his senior, “you’ve been pretty terrible, but I don’t blame you, hyung.”

“No,” Minho grumbles, grabbing his junior with a firm grip and pulling him into his chest, “it’s not okay. I’m really sorry for treating you so terribly when you’ve been taking good care of me. We’re lucky to have you. Changbin knew what he was doing when he picked you.”

Felix scoffs, then makes an affirmative nod. “Changbin was always good at letting me feel needed in the group. He told me a couple weeks ago that he was glad I joined up with everyone, that we needed someone smart and dedicated.”

“Yeah,” Minho laughs, “that time that you were training Sungie, though, that was great.”

Jisung perks his head up, pulling one of the throw pillows out from behind you, tossing it over at Minho. “Hyung!” He shouts, his face puffing up in frustration as he whines, “Why are you always so mean to me?”

Minho laughs, playfully tossing the pillow back at him. “You’re always comedic relief. If you don’t like it, stop doing silly shit.”

Saturday morning came faster than you anticipated. The day was supposed to be simple, just a celebration of life at Cheonggyecheon with you and all of the members of the family. It was to be low-key and subtle. Minho said he wanted it to seem as nonchalant as possible, that people walking by wouldn’t really pinpoint it as a funeral. “Changbin hated unwanted attention,” he said.

Minho kept a portrait of Changbin in the breast pocket of his jacket, only pulling it out for a brief moment when he was recounting Changbin’s life, keeping it only in his line of sight. Flowers were blooming all around the stream site, petals occasionally being lifted by the wind, dancing around your small group, decorating you all in white.

Everything was going as expected. You all looked normal, making sure not to stick out in any way, but you should have known that having a gathering in downtown Seoul was a stupid plan. When bullets started flying from the bridge across from you, you weren’t surprised. When you got shot a few times, you still weren’t surprised.

“Oh,” you remember saying as you collapsed into the ground. “Interesting.”

The pain was only there for a moment as you were pulled away from the brink of death by Felix, then it dissipated quickly when everything turned to black. That voice from earlier was talking to you again, but you couldn’t understand what it was saying.

“Who are you?” You had asked the voice that spoke to you. It was familiar enough for you to pinpoint it as someone you knew, but you couldn’t remember who exactly it was. “Why am I here? Why are you here?” You had said to the nothingness, not actually expecting a response.

“You know who I am,” the voice responded, “and I know that you don’t belong here. That’s what matters.”

“Why?”

“It’s just not your time,” the voice pressed, getting further away from you. “Tell them I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on. It just wasn’t in the cards, I guess.”

“Tell who? What are you talking about?” Your voice sounded frail, weaker somehow. “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” the voice calmly reassures you, “this happens when you’re at death’s door. You got shot a couple times. Felix was working on you, bringing you back. But you can’t seem to make up your mind, if you want to stay or if you want to go.” The voice scoffs, sighing in annoyance. “Make up your fuckin’ mind already, would you? Be glad you got the option.”

“What?” The voice was starting to make more sense, but somehow still drifting further off into space. Was that who you thought it was? What the hell was his name?

“Go back. Christopher and Jisung need you. Hell,” he scoffs again, “Minho could use you, too. He likes something about you. Told me you’d be good friends eventually. I can see it now, of course. But you need to go back. Get out of here.”

“Wait a minute,” you say, trying to reach your hand out into the darkness, but nothing happens. “I know you. I remember you.”

“Yeah, you do, but you’re running out of time. Get out of here. Seriously, stop coming back here before I kill you myself.”

The voice dissipates, and you gasp loudly, opening your eyes. You’re in a bright white room, the trilling and beeping of machines replacing the voice that was in your head. Christopher and Jisung are on either side of you, staring at you in shock. That’s when it hits you: you have been here before. You talked with the voice before, too.

“Oh my god,” Jisung gasps, tears falling from his eyes as he grabs your legs. “You need to stop doing this. I can’t handle you doing this anymore.”

Christopher sighs heavily, staring at the monitors behind you with determination before he grabs your face and stares directly in your eyes. “Please stop doing that,” he says, his eyes starting to water. “You keep dying on us and I can’t handle it, either.”

“What?” You blink your eyes rapidly, your body growing heavy as you come to. “What are you talking about?”

Christopher takes in a deep breath, and Jisung crawls up next to you on your hospital bed. “Sung,” he presses and grabs Jisung’s wrist, “let her rest comfortably.”

“No,” he says with a slight quiver to his voice as he starts sobbing and chattering uncontrollably, “I can’t handle any more of this. Changbin-hyung’s gone, we almost lost her, you’ve been shot enough already, and we almost lost Minho and Seungmin. I’m not going to sit idly by and watch. I can’t lose anyone else. I just can’t. So, I’m sorry if I’m not handling this the way you want me to.”

Christopher sighs, then reaches his hand out to stroke Jisung’s hair. “Fine, Sungie, that’s fine. Just don’t cause problems, alright?”

“So,” you say, enjoying Jisung’s warmth as you clear your throat, “what happened?”

You had woken up briefly before, a couple weeks ago. It was a month after you had gotten shot at the funeral site. Christopher had explained it before, but you started to decline within a few hours of waking up, slipping in and out of consciousness. There was a point where you were comatose and intubated. He mentioned there was a point where you were bleeding, but it all blurred together.

There were a handful of doctors and nurses that came in to check on you, taking care of you as you needed. Felix came in at one point, concerned about some of the things he had seen on your labs, mentioning that he needed to talk to you about the next time you were conscious - if you regained consciousness, that was. He was acting as a neutral proxy for your healthcare, since there was no one that could legally speak for you.

Jisung made an offhanded comment that Christopher had yelled at Felix for the way he was handling your care, but Felix was trying to be as ethically consistent as possible. His first priority was to do no harm, and then comforting the family would come second. Neither Felix nor Christopher were trying to be cold about it on purpose. Christopher had been on edge since you slipped from consciousness the last time, and was unfairly taking it out on the first person he could.

“It made me realize,” he said, pulling his chair up closer to you, as he grabbed your hand, rubbing it on his face. “I love you. I really, honestly do.”

Jisung lifts his head off of your shoulder, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “You what?” He turned back to Christopher, cocking his head in disbelief. “Did I just hear you say that correctly?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says, softly, as the tears threatening to spill earlier finally fall from his eyes. “I love you, alright? Losing Changbin, then almost losing you made me realize it. I thought I felt it the day we lost Changbin, but I really, truly realized it when we almost lost you.” Christopher rolls his eyes up to Jisung, sighing deeply as he closes his eyes. “I guess I love you, too, in some weird way. Maybe not in the exact same way, but, you know, that’s not what matters. You’re important to me. We can figure it out as we go, right?”

Jisung kind of short-circuits for a minute, his head cocking to one side, then to the other side. He sputters incoherently a few times as words try to come to him, but don’t quite make it to fruition.

“I’m glad,” Christopher starts to speak again, “that we worked out the way we did. I remember thinking it was a really stupid idea when you brought it up, that Jisung wouldn’t be able to handle it, that he would panic or something.” Jisung glares at Christopher, about to quip something in response, but he’s cut off as Christopher continues.

“Hell, I should have been worried I couldn’t handle it. You two work so well together,” he says, looking at you and smiling, “and being able to be a part of this, to be a part of what you have, is just what I needed. Changbin always told me I was too hasty and protective in relationships, that I would need someone who could handle that but still challenge me.”

He flits his eyes to Jisung, grabbing one of his hands, bringing both of your hands together. “I was really horrible to you at the beginning, wasn’t I? Treated you as if you were some threat to a piece of property I felt entitled to, which is completely inappropriate. I shouldn’t have acted that way to either of you. I’m honestly so sorry that I acted the way that I did. Can you forgive me?”

Jisung scoffs, “Yeah, you were pretty rude. But I knew that about you, I mean, I put it aside when we started with this relationship, didn’t I?” Christopher nods his head, kind of humming to himself as he gets distracted by a thought. “I forgive you, though,” Jisung continues, a serious tone to his voice. “I know you were just being you, hyung.”

Christopher is about to make a comment, but the door to your hospital room opens. Felix walks in, his face perking up as he sees you completely conscious. “Well,” he says with a laugh, “look who took long enough and finally woke up.” Christopher turns his head over his shoulder, looking at Felix as he walks in.

“How are you feeling?” Felix continues, walking up to look at your monitors, pulling the paper feed from your EKG. “You’ve been circling the drain for the past couple weeks. I’m surprised you pulled through.”

“Yeah,” you say with a cough, adjusting the way you were seated, “I feel pretty terrible, I won’t lie. I feel like I’ve been a science experiment: poked, prodded, experimented on.”

Felix nods, looking at you, before turning his shoulder to the men behind you. “I need to talk with you about something. Alone, preferably.”

“Come on,” Jisung whines, grabbing you a little tighter, “she just came back. What happens if she slips out of consciousness again?”

“It’ll only take a moment,” the bleach-blond man reassures Jisung, turning to look at Christopher. “I promise.”

Christopher sits up, clearly displeased with the situation. He takes a second, then stands. “Come on, Sung,” he says, offering a hand to his junior. “It’s only fair. If you were in the same situation, I’m sure you’d want to be afforded the same respect.”

Jisung pouts, but does get up. “Fine,” he says, taking Christopher’s hand and standing up off of the bed. “But only for a bit, alright? She just came back to us.”

Felix bows his head slightly as the men leave the room. “I don’t want to alarm you,” he says, crouching down to be at eye level with you. He grabs your hands to comfort you. “But something on your labs concerned me when you first got here. I had the nurses pull some more blood to confirm, but,” he trails off, looking away from you.

“What?”

“When you were first admitted, you had detectable levels of hCG in your blood.” It took you a second, but the realization hit you and it hit you hard. The way Felix phrased his sentence so carefully made you worry.

“Had?” You press, sitting up a little and grabbing Felix’s hand a little tighter. “Does that mean…?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking up at you and grabbing your hands a bit tighter. “I had the nurses run your labs again just to make sure because you started bleeding profusely after you lost consciousness the second time. It didn’t make sense, not at first. I’ve been able to keep it hidden from Christopher and Jisung, but I knew I couldn’t keep it from you when you finally woke up.” He says your name softly, giving you a weak smile as he grips your hand. “I’m so sorry to come to you with this so soon after you came back.”

The two of you sat there in silence, staring at the thin blanket covering you. It seemed like it was an eternity as the realization that you were pregnant, and then suddenly weren’t washed over you. You hadn’t noticed you were crying until Felix wiped your face up with a tissue. He apologized again, just as Christopher and Jisung walked into the room.

“Sorry,” Jisung says in his usual chipper voice, “I was impatient and… what happened? Oh my god, are you okay? Bunny?” He hastily makes his way right back to your side, grabbing your face.

“What happened?” Christopher says coming up to your side, right next to Felix. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you want me to tell them?” Felix calmly asks you, rubbing his thumb on your hand. “I can tell them for you, or we can just ignore it for now.”

Christopher clearly doesn’t like that response. He grips Felix by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “What happened?” Felix bites his lip, looking at you over his shoulder. “You’re talking to me, now, Lee.”

“It’s not your decision, hyung,” he says, squinting as he knows he’s only fuelling the fire. “I’m sorry, but you need to respect that and-“

“It’s nothing,” you say, the words falling from your lips before you can even really register it. “I mean, it’s not nothing, it was something, and now it’s nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” Christopher releases his grip on Felix’s collar, looking at you with concern. “What do you mean it was something and now it’s nothing? Why are you crying?”

You look at Jisung, then to Christopher, and sigh. You close your eyes in defeat and tilt your head down, trying to shrink yourself to make this all seem so much smaller, insignificant. If you treated it that way, it would hurt less, right?

“I was pregnant.” The words just slip out, quiet and concise. They have a taste of sterility and have a foreign texture as they leave your lips. “And now I’m not. That’s all. Something, now it’s nothing.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung says, collapsing at the side of your bed.  Christopher’s face falls in disbelief, and he says something in English, something you can’t pick up, and he grabs your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“What?” Is all you can hear him say before you slip from consciousness, sinking into his arms. You expect to hear Changbin’s voice again, but it doesn’t greet you this time. You’re only greeted with the black void and nothingness.

[restlessmaknae]

Heartbreak Hotel; Wonpil

Take an aspiring song writer, a rebellious high schooler, a sassy English teacher, a passionate painter and an adventurous tour guide. What’s the same in all of them? They’ve all just had their heart broken.

Heartbreak Hotel is a DAY6 angst one-shot collection with 5 members & 5 songs & 5 stories.

Sungjin | Dowoon | Young K | Wonpil | Jae

IV. Wonpil + Colours

Painter!Wonpil x OC’s story in 2288 words. Angst & drama. Triggers: depression. Colours is a beautiful and heart-wrenching song and it deserves more recognition.

Living was pitch-black for me.

Every day was the same; every day was like a repetition, a never-ending cycle. Every day was of that unfathomable and hollow darkness. It wrapped its blanket around me yet I couldn’t see it, nor could I touch it. Nonetheless, it was all I could feel and that feeling was anything but comfortable. Instead of starry nights, I only looked at starless skies. Instead of giggling kids, I only heard cries of babies. Instead of the beautiful pureness of the freshly fallen snow, I only saw the bare trees without all their colourful leaves. Instead of the winter tranquillity, I could only feel its loneliness.

My paintings were all the same. They portrayed different symbols, different seasons and different scenarios yet all of them represented that tremendous darkness that I knew of. I couldn’t bring myself to use any other colour, except pitch-black. The colour of my heart.

 Seeing you for the first time was mahogany-red.

It was still close to black but it was more of that colour that you could see at the break of dawn when it wasn’t night but it wasn’t even day yet. You sat down at that old bench in front of my house, the one that I stared at when I looked for inspiration. Considering that it was always abandoned and I haven’t seen anyone using it since I had been living there, I was quite taken aback when you appeared. You wore an elegant buttermilk-like coat with Persian-blue jeans and pecan-brown boots. You were a striking painting amidst the dull city centre, stealing everyone’s attention who passed by, including mine.

The painting that I had been working on for hours suddenly seemed so neutral compared to your colourful appearance. The sudden idea of adding more shades crossed my mind but I shrugged it off. I liked the dark misery on the canvas, it was my life after all. It showed the deepest parts of my soul, the one that I wanted to hide yet it wanted so hard to be seen.

 Meeting you for the first time was raisin-like.

I didn’t even know when was the last time that I stepped out of my house before I stormed out of my room to help you get up from the ground. While I was working on a new painting, I saw from the corner of my eyes that someone tried to approach the bench in front of my house. No one wanted to sit down there, except you. Yet, I also noticed that you were reluctant to sit down and it finally dawned on me that you were afraid because the road was slippery and as you were reaching the end of the bench, you suddenly slipped and fell down.

No one was there to help you, everyone was busy in their own greyish worlds, living their own black and white lives, minding their own business. Something in my guts motioned me to assist you because who would if I didn’t? I couldn’t even be bothered to put on a jacket when I went outside – for the first time since God knows how long. It felt like forever.

It must have been one of the most peculiar sights; a man coming out of the house in black sweatpants, black house shoes and a black knitted jumper to help a young lady to get up from the ground. There was a time when I cared about things like reputation but that time was long forgotten, so I couldn’t care less, neither could you.

 Holding your hand was crimson-red.

It was alarming yet reassuring at the same time. It was only an innocent brush, you holding onto my hand while I helped you to regain your composure but it lit up a fire inside of me. It wasn’t a life-threating flame, it was more like one that was about to grow stronger and stronger.

You looked at me with your carob eyes, a colour that I had long forgotten existed. I’ve never seen such eyes or I was merely too blind to notice that particular shade before. I wasn’t always this insensitive to the colours of the world but the loss of my brother painted my skies all black and you were the first who seemed to change the scenery.

“Thank you so much,” you directed a genuine smile at me, one that was like watching the sunrise above the rooftops. “I’m so clumsy these days, so thank you for being there for me!” you chatted beamingly, the radiant smile never leaving your face.

I wondered how strangers looked at our scene, how could they see us – the definition of darkness and  the epitome of all the colours in the world. Because that’s what we were; two sides of the same coin, the opposites of a magnet and the two poles.

I couldn’t muster a single word, my mouth was dry and it had been so long since I talked to someone, it was a challenge – similar to riding a bike after years of not sitting on it.

“Oh my gosh, you must be freezing!” your eyes widened in fear as you caught sight of my light clothing. You didn’t know that the cold could never bother me anymore. I was freezing no matter the temperature, the weather or the season. My heart was kept in ice and you were the first who started melting it, even without making an attempt to do so. “Please, hurry back into your house before you catch a cold! I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have come out in such clothes,” you pointed at my knitted jumper which must have been convenient during autumn but not during winter.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. It was my choice,” I heard the words coming from my mouth, sounding raspy and brittle.

Unbeknownst to you, my words hid the most dreadful parts of my life. I had been living like I wasn’t the one in control and I wasn’t the one who made choices because life chose instead of me. I merely got my cards but after that, I had no choice but to play with them. I didn’t deserve a say in the rules. I was standing in the desert, waiting for the hurricane to come and spin me around until there was nothing left of me. Yet, you came and the hurricane suddenly stopped coming closer. The disaster was still far away.

The painting that I started that day was a mess. I wanted to experiment with crimson but the outcome turned out to be pretty disturbing. I couldn’t bear the sight, the sudden change was odd, even for me. I tore the painting apart as soon as I saw the result.

 Talking with you was navy-blue.

You showed up at my door the day after and brought a cup of latte macchiato as a thank you gift. I was never more dumbfounded my whole life. I assumed that my mother would be the one who shows up because she wants to barge in and reprimand me for not moving out for months, filling my empty fridge with food, so I was more than surprised to see you there.

“Hey!” your face lit up like a candle on the Christmas tree as soon as I opened the door, still in the same clothes that I wore the day before. “Sorry for disturbing you but I saw yesterday that you came back here and I wanted to thank you for helping me, so I brought you something!” you handed me the cup which was as hot as the fire that you lit up in my heart.

“Ah, you shouldn’t have,” I let out a weary sigh, staring at the cup in my hands. I couldn’t care about the hot content since I was still as cold as ice. Yet, deep inside the ice slowly started melting away and I couldn’t help but let it melt away. After all, no one can control their hearts, can they?

“You deserve it,” you shrugged as a loving smile was forming on your lips. “I know it sounds crazy but would you like to drink something together? I know it’s totally out of the blue but you seem like you would need some company,” you admitted a bit coyly, looking down at your intertwined fingers. If anyone else had told me the same, I would have left on the spot after snorting at them because they exactly knew what I had been through.

However, it was different with you. It was always different with you.

So I stayed silent and stood still like a stone. Not until you started babbling about nonsense again, did I actually give in. I had no idea what I was doing but the words had already left my mouth when I realised what was ahead of me.

As soon as you left and I went back to my paintings, my current canvas seemed so dull and boring. I gave some colour to it and my heart suddenly skipped a beat.

It was beautiful; that kind of new sensation that you get when you experience something for the first time. Seeing blue on my canvas after a long time was just like that. And maybe I was actually experiencing something else for the first time.

 Getting to know you was sandstone-orange.

The thought that I was meeting you somehow forced me to get back on track. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to have a haircut, I still shaved, washed my hair and even wore decent clothes to our first café rendezvous. I opted for a sky blue shirt with an obsidian-black coat, coal-black jeans and midnight-blue boots, not caring much about fashion but you still complimented me. You stated that you liked my baby blue shirt and that’s how we started arguing about colours and that’s how you got to know that I was a painter. At least, I used to be. After my brother’s death, I wasn’t able to finish any of my paintings. I lacked inspiration as much as I lacked life.

We started getting to know each other and the more we met, the less nervous I felt. I had to admit that I was very reluctant at first but the angelic smile on your face always set me at ease. You didn’t force me to do anything, you didn’t broach up sensitive topics, you were as patient as ever. You let me open up like a blossoming flower and eventually I started trusting you. And with trust comes care and with care comes love and with love comes pain.

You showed me all the colours of the world. You made me realise how blind I was and how many times I passed by state-of-the-art places, missed vulnerable moments and forgot to see the beauty in everything. You were an art enthusiast, so you dragged me from one exhibition to another, one park to another and one bench to another.

I started to see the real colours of the morning sunrise, hear the cheerful screaming at the playgrounds and feel the warmth of spring. You didn’t do anything extraordinary, except staying beside me and showing me the world. You didn’t blame me for my brother’s death – unlike all my relatives and friends −, therefore you didn’t abandon me.

My house was cleaned weekly, my fridge was always full and my paintings were livelier than ever. I used all the colours you showed me and the inspiration hit me so many times that I began to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling completely restless and finished a painting within mere hours.

I felt like I found myself again and I set myself free from all that self-hatred and guilt that accompanied since that accident with my brother – when I was driving my brother home from work and a drunk driver crashed into our car. My brother and the driver died and I was the only one who survived.

Thanks to you, I was finally living again, living with all the colours.

 Losing you was grey like ash.

As I’ve said, we were two sides of the same coin. However, the distance between us was growing too wide. You didn’t understand why I wouldn’t like to get myself a decent job or at least sell my paintings and I didn’t understand why you were still beside me when you were promoted and you had an opportunity to move to Incheon. The arguments were more and more intense and we just didn’t seem to come to a halt. We always found another reason to fight, even though we hadn’t even confessed anything. I started to get depressed again and you didn’t notice the symptoms – because I never told you −, so you assumed that I pushed you away on purpose.

I had no choice. You were too special to this world and I was lucky to see all the colours once again but you didn’t deserve to be chained to me all your life. You said that you wouldn’t like me to become that wreck that I used to be but that’s exactly where we were heading to. I had to push you away and ask you to go and move to Incheon because you deserved it.

I wasn’t honest at all, I told you silly fibs and I knew that you knew that I was making them up but I couldn’t help. I wanted you to be happy and if that meant that you weren’t beside me, I had to let you go.

So I did and with you, all my colourful paintings vanished again.

 Living was pitch-black for me. Again.

[ketavinsky]

hey ill take this down for a bit but if anyones familiar w these can you tell me if ive missed anything out?

Hi,

Im sorry to start it like this but I guess it all boils down to how I cant do this anymore. I guess there was more but theres really no point in discussing the semantics of it. Ive been like this for a long time. Before Singapore. I thought I was doing better; I think, for a while, I was doing better. But the pressure keeps going up and up and up and its starting to compromise my existence and I cant. I cant deal with that. Im too weak.

Living at home is like a minefield and I know thats mostly my fault but I cant make it stop, I cant leave. I cant say anything without feeling like Im being crucified for it. I tried, I really did. Even through the anorexia thing (which was a thing-- Im not trying to be ‘’healthy’’ or ‘’unique’’. I wanted to feel empty I wanted to feel pure and clean. I wanted to look nice and feel better. Im sorry that involved putting everyone through so much stress) I just wanted to make people happy. Thats all.

I dont know what Im going to d with my life and theres not a single person in the world that makes it better no one’s listening and I know it’s my fault but it still hurts

Im never going to be able to come out. I guess this is the big reveal everyone-- Im transgender. Ive identified as such since around year seven when I figured the word out. Ive experienced these feelings since I was eight or nine. Im not trying to be different or unique or anything. Im trying to live. I guess I want you all to understand that. I really do. I want to live. My name is Ian and I want to live. I guess its important that that part of me isnt taken away from me. I didnt choose this or anything btu the name Ian and Im sorry im such a stereotype but everyone who’s ever said life isnt worth living if youre gay or bi or trans or whatever is right. I cant do this anymore. Im trying so ahrd and I want to live but I cant.

Hi mum. I lovey ou and im sorry I represent such a horrible time in your life. Im sorry everything I say and do stresses you out. I didnt want it to be like this. But I didnt deserve you pushing me down and yelling at me for trying be ‘’unique’’ and strange and all those things you believe I am. I didnt deserve to be screamed at and gaslighted and brutalised. I was just a kid. I didnt deserve a lot of the things youve put me through even if you dont remember them. I know I deserve others, but Im so tired, mum. You told me that one of us is going to have to die and hey its me. Im sorry I was ever born. I wish you got the life you wanted and deserved and I hope youll be less stressed. Even though I was so frustrated and upset with you sometimes I recognise everyone deserves their best life, especially you. I lovey ou.

Hi dad. I know yu wanted more from me. Sorry I never learnt how to paint. Hopefully Fialkas a better artist than I am. I was sort of upset with you for a long time for leaving me alone but I guess its my fault. I was always too scared to respond to your emails. I love your jumpers and I hope you never stop wearing them the world needs more woolly red jumpers. I still love you.

Hi Barry. You dont deserve any of this. Im so sorry. I love you and i hope the house turns out ok, it would have been nice to live there.

To Brew and Oli and Noel and Sam and Ana and Dimi; the Chengs and Te and Jensen and everyone everyone else: thanks for everything youve ever done to help me out or make me feel better. I  guess this is weird but Im thankful for every single one of anyone whos ever been good to or tried to be good to me. I guess you and everyone else are the reason I made it this far. I love you all.

To the Isabelas and Kai and and guy and Lewis: I wish i couldve spent more time with you before this. You all mean so much to me and Im sorry I was never able to really show that. I love you all so much. Kai and Lew i love you i Love you i love you so much im so sorry Im such a stupid faggot im so sorry for everything I wish i was more.

To Nina and and Fin Ive always loved you and I always will and I wish you the best youre gonna go so far in life and Im so proud and I love you so much

The world will forever be such a beautiful place to me but Im so tired and this hurts so much and every time I try to make it better its okay for like three days and then it gets worse hahaha. Its been like this for a long time and theres been good days and bad days but sometimes I think about it and realise

nvm Dont use me as a statistic. I dont want to be used for anything. If anything I own can be sold to raise money please give it to rainbow youth or any other LGBT charity service. Im counting on you ellen for this.

If i can help one kid get on testosterone or buy a good quality binder or get top surgery or move out of an abusive home thats all i wouldve needed to be happy. Living vicariously i guess. Every single trans kid deserves so much more than what this worldgives them.

I know suicide is a sin but i tried my best to be good and there for people when they needed it even if i was annoying so maybe God will be good to me. Im not sorry for who I am and I believe that what ive been put through  is just some trial iguess God doesnt makemistakes

This is how its gonna be

Goodnight everyone. My names ian and im signing out for a bit. I guess ive spent a lot of time lying about myself to get on or seem more interesting so my names ian and im a boy and i love this world and i love living and writing and learning about things and i love my God and thats how I want to be rememebred

[hollyaaannn]

#GreenRibbonStigma

This is mental health illness. Days of pure happiness, days of feeling low, and like nothing and putting a good face on for everyone around you. 

With mental illness you are not going to feel better just magically. You dont see one doctor or change one thing or try one medication. It takes time and a good support system, if you're lucky enough to have one.

The true problem besides the fact that people are afraid to talk about mental illness, is the industry. Having to pay hundreds of dollars for health insurance that doesn't have the proper coverage, on top of therapists and psychiatrists being hundreds of dollars on their own. They have the worst schedules and so many places dont accept new patients. I have, after 11 years battling anxiety, depression, and some PTSD from childhood situations, have admitted its time for me to get help. At 23, almost 24 years old, have accepted my past & am ready to better myself for my future. The denial of needing a mental fix of life, has ended. My future needs a better, stronger me. My career needs a better, stronger me. My future children need a better, stronger me. But most of all, I need a better, stronger me. And Ill be damned to disappoint my future self & look back and wish I helped myself when I could have. . . now facing rock bottom.

I have refused to get help and medication for far too long. I studied my illness when I was in college, trying to piece together the understanding of what Ive been through in life so early & why it took the toll it has on me. For being as young as I am, the “Im fine- it will go away- I can handle it- Oh Im okay now” attitude has come to an end. You think you're fine, you think it'll go away, you think things will pan their way out... bu they wont without the proper attention.

Of course Im still going to have bad days, but most since Ive just accepted this all, have been good. Neutral I should say. It has only been two weeks and Im already testing a second medication as the first one wasnt the greatest fit and made me sick to my stomach, food wasnt an option. This second medication makes me entirely drowsy, and comes in random swings of tiredness. Just going to show a little sense of the work it actually does take, the patience it takes, and the willingness it takes to WANT to help yourself. You have to commit to it.

Many people are actually afraid to heal because their entire identity has been based on and centered around the trauma they have experienced. They have no idea who they are outside of trauma and that unknown void can be absolutely terrifying. Your mental health is priority, and nothing and no one in this world is more important than it. You cannot pour from an empty glass.

Do not be ashamed of your past, your story, your courage to accept it, or the amount of time and sacrifice you have to take and make to mend it. 

Healing is a beautiful thing & you’re inspiring others whether you realize it or not. 

#TwoWeekPost #VulnerablePost #MentalHealthAwareness #AnxietyDepressionPTSD #GreenRibbon