#jatp fluff

[g1rld1ary]

hi baby !! 🧡

im sick rn and ive looked alllllll over and i couldnt find anything could you write a sickfic for luke from jatp where the female!reader gets sick ? reader is his girl 😽

im doing the same prompt on my blog because im so obsessed with the idea of sickfics and im such a luke girl

so you probably wont have much trouble figuring out who sent you this later if you look it up LMFAO 😍😍

pshsshssh thank you !! 🌼🌼

sick days ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

➻ word count: 1905

➻ content: established relationship, implied aged up to early 20ish, pet names (love, baby, my girl), tooth rotting fluff

➻ obsessed with this request!!! i've never written a sickfic before so hope this is ok!! hope ur feeling better lovey xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ���═══

Your body ached. That was the only thing you could feel. Actually, that was incorrect; you also had a headache and a snotty nose and you were pretty sure your temperature could boil water. In essence, you felt awful. You’d toughed it out for as long as you could, making yourself a steaming hot tea and cozying into the sofa for the night. It wasn’t making you feel any better. So, in a last ditch effort of saving your night, you dialled your boyfriend.

You smiled as his croaky, half-asleep voice came through your phone, murmuring your name.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, brows furrowed as you checked the time, gasping when it read 1:45am. You thought it was still closer to eleven.

“Don’t worry about it, couldn’t sleep anyway,” Luke lied and you frowned, though he couldn’t see it through the screen.

“No, it’s dumb. I’m sorry I woke you up. Night, Luke.” You moved to hang up when Luke interrupted you.

“Baby, wait! Clearly something’s bothering you. What’s up?” You smiled despite your discomfort, your boyfriend always boosting your mood without even trying.

“Nothing,” You pouted in your puddle of blankets, “Just feel sick.” You could feel Luke’s pity without him saying anything and weren’t sure whether to be indignant or grateful.

“Can you stay awake for twenty more minutes, love?”

“I guess so, why?” You asked, turning the TV back on as something to keep you from sleeping.

“I love you,” Was all he said, hanging up on you abruptly. You smiled softly to yourself, willing your eyes to stay open as you tried to focus on the sitcom in front of you.

You were just dozing off when you heard your apartment door unlocking and the brief shuffling of feet in the entryway. Your grin brightened, the familiar butterflies returning to your chest, even after months of being with Luke. The man in questioned approached you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked up at him.

“Luke, it’s 2 am, what are you doing here?” You asked despite the obvious answer, opening your shield of blankets for him to crawl onto the sofa with you. He made you wait, tipping out his reusable shopping bag onto the coffee table in front of you. There lay a pint of ice cream, tea bags, painkillers, and your favourite chocolate. Suddenly you weren’t sure if the heat on your face was fever or blush. Silently you held your arms out, and Luke dove into them with all the enthusiasm of a child, peppering your faces with all the kisses he could manage.

“Couldn’t let my girl be sick on her own,” He mumbled, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, eliciting a bout of giggles from you.

“My very own Prince Charming,” You grinned, pecking his temple. After a gratuitous moment of cuddling Luke peeled himself off you, taking on the role of concerned caretaker. He was quick to dart into the kitchen, turning the kettle on for your tea and grabbing a spoon for the ice cream he’d bought. Sitting himself in the vacant spot next to you he fixed his focus onto the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked, pulling the lid off the ice cream tub for you.

“How I Met Your Mother, I’ve just reached season seven.” Luke gasped dramatically, holding his hands over his chest in faux outrage.

“You continued without me? How could you?” You laughed at his accusatory tone, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Lukey. You have to forgive me though, I’m sick,” You punctuated the statement with a pathetic cough, smiling as Luke easily settled down.

You watched in silence for a bit, both giggling at the stupid jokes. After a while you felt Luke looking at you seriously, but chose not to think much of it, continuing to tune in to the show. When he pulled out a thermometer, you raised an eyebrow. Luke wasn’t usually one to be so prepared, but you let him rest it on your tongue nonetheless. When it read a concerningly high number Luke frowned, silently popping the painkillers out of their packaging, feeding you with the insistence of a fed up mother hen.

“Why aren’t you a nurse?” You joked, swallowing the medication with a mouthful of melted ice cream, “Rockstar be damned.”

“Only for you, love.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you fretting over Reggie,” You laughed, and Luke couldn’t help but join you.

“That’s fair. You’re my favourite, though.”

“How unexpected.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to his jaw, revelling in the dumb grin that crept onto his face.

You both settled into silence, you leant into Luke’s side, his hands rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, never quite able to stay in it for one reason or another. The blanket was too hot, you were cold without it, your head hurt. Nothing was quite right and all you wanted to do was sleep for as long as humanly possible.

“Luke?” You whispered, in case he was already asleep.

“Yes, love?” He replied, shifting his position to look down at you. You faltered for a moment, overwhelmed with the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Will you play for me?” Luke was up in a second, arranging you on the sofa. You giggled as he manhandled you, lying you down and wrapping you tightly in your blanket so you couldn’t escape. You teased him about being his captive audience as he tuned his guitar quickly, never being so grateful for his perfect pitch.

Without anymore holdups Luke began to play, plucking softly at the strings to create a melody that filled the air of your little apartment. His playing was like a siren call, pressing weights on your eyelids until you could barely stand to keep them open. You watched him while you could, admiring the way the faint light from the kitchen lamp made him look like an Adonis, his hair illuminated in gold and his features accentuated by the shadows. You couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Luke Patterson, heartthrob of Julie and the Phantoms was your dorky, adoring boyfriend who would make supermarket trips in the middle of the night for you. Who had your favourite ice cream memorised and your key attached to his, so he could come see you whenever he missed you (which was pretty much always).

Despite the various aches and pains that had overtaken your body, the only thing you could feel as you drifted off to sleep was the burning ball of light in your chest, a chemical mixture of joy and love and gratitude, overtaking your senses one by one until you were asleep, dreams filled of beautiful images of your boyfriend.

When you woke up the next morning, you figured out it wasn’t morning at all. Luke had evidently switched off your phone’s alarm after you’d fallen asleep, and it was well into early afternoon when you’d arisen. To his credit though, the sleep had done you some good, and you felt much less like walking death after an intense sleep.

You untangled yourself from the knit blanket, your feet wobbly on the hard wood floors. You had serious post-nap daze, and wandered through your flat looking for your boyfriend. The poorly made sheets on your actual bed told you where Luke slept last night — or this morning, more accurately — you smiled at the way he’d arranged your stuffed animals.

Stuck to the fridge under your New York City magnet was a note from Luke, explaining he had to go to rehearsal but he’d be back later to check on you. You pulled the paper off, travelling back to your room to put the note in your ‘Luke’ box, adding to the collection of notes and drawings he’d given you inconsequentially that you’d held onto.

As the afternoon ticked by you’d gotten onto your computer, figuring that although you were still ill you should try and get something productive done. You were armed with your box of tissues as you got started on an assignment you had due at the end of the week, and slipped your headphones on to get into the headspace.

You screamed as a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, quickly dissolving into giggles as you realised it was only Luke, back from rehearsal.

“Your voice still sounds scratchy, baby, how are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Better, promise. Tomorrow I’ll probably go to class if I get another good night’s sleep.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, and you felt your insides melting all over again. You closed the laptop, knowing you weren’t going to get much more done now that Luke was with you.

You spent the evening together, ordering in pizza from the place around the corner and getting slightly wine drunk as Luke told you all about his earlier rehearsal and the antics of his band. He sang you part of the new song he and Julie had written and you applauded dramatically, only stopping when you broke into a coughing fit.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked when you grew tired again, cuddling up to him like a cat.

“Barbie?” You asked hopefully, looking up at him with wide eyes. Luke sighed dramatically, but you knew he was just pretending not to like the animated movies you’d grown up on.

“Only if it’s Island Princess,” He offered and you nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you settled in for the movie night, Luke getting much more into the movie as it went on, as he always did. By the end you were singing duets — your voice considerably less pleasing than his, especially due to your illness — Luke taking on the role of the prince letting you be Ro.

As the credits rolled you felt your eyes closing again, and you felt eerily like you did as a younger girl, falling asleep on the couch after a Barbie movie. This was better though, because now you had Luke next to you. He’d taken his role as big spoon extremely seriously, and had all but become one with the couch, pressing into the back as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You shifted your position to face him, watching his face relax into contentedness as he tried to doze off to sleep. Feeling you watch him he cracked one eye open, mouth producing a dumb grin that made butterflies erupt in your chest.

“What?” He asked, but you got the distinct impression he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Nothing,” You lied, but gave in easily, “You’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty too. Now go to sleep.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Kay, goodnight Lukey. I love you.”

“Love you too, my girl. So much.” His answer was muffled by him pressing his face into your hair to pull you closer, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even as sleep enveloped you.

[mxlti-lover]

Missing Touch {L.P.}

Summary: You never wanted the boys finding out about you suffering with severe anxiety, but one night when Luke finds you having an attack alone in your room, it’s the hardest thing he’s had to deal with when it comes to touch.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, a couple swear words.

Word Count: 744

You have known the boys for a month now.

It took you a while to process the fact you were seeing 3 ghosts and your twin sister, Julie, was now forming a band with them.

You also couldn’t figure out how only you and Julie could see the boys; especially considering you didn’t really have a reasoning on how you could help the boys out. Julie was always the musician out of the both of you.

You weren’t complaining though. After getting to know the boys and slowly getting closer to them, you were happy to have them in your life. Especially Luke.

When you first met them, it seemed as though you and Luke clicked right away; a spark as some would say. He was the first person to go to when you had a problem you didn’t really want to tell anyone close to you about. And he was always coming to you about any band troubles.

The only thing the boys didn’t really know about you yet is how badly you suffered from anxiety. It’s not that you didn’t not want to tell them, you just didn’t want them worrying about you.

That all changed thought when Luke appeared one day while you were having an attack.

• ~ • ~ •

You knew exactly what had triggered your anxiety attack. The math test handed back to you this morning with the F that mocked back at you. You failed. You couldn’t believe it as you always have straight A’s, a 4.0 GPA and even on the honor roll a few times. AP Algebra has been the one subject that’s been nipping you in the ass. You were trying to hide it from your dad - deleting any emails sent to him right away - along with trying to hide it from your aunt Victoria. Though you knew the school probably talked to her about it already.

The attack came on fast as the feeling of stress soon consumed you, making you feel even more overwhelmed. You closed your eyes as you tried to focus on your breathing, but your chest only tightened on you more and the air escaped from your lungs quickly.

You hadn’t even noticed when Luke popped into your room, excited to tell you about a gig Julie and the phantoms had coming up this weekend.

But as soon as he saw you, the excitement quickly washed away and worry soon etched across his face.

He quickly rushed over to you instinctively, but when he went right through you, he realized the one thing he wanted to do, he couldn’t.

Sadness washed over him as he attempted one more time to pull you to him, knowing it would fail miserably.

He sat down as close to you as possible as he watched you.

“I don’t know what’s going on bug, but I know you’re strong enough to fight through it. Just focus on my voice and please don’t give up on those deep breaths.” He spoke softly catching your attention.

You look up at him as you let out a small gasp as he startled you. You shake your head as you didn’t want him to have to see you like this.

“Please…go.” You spoke out the best you could, another small gasp escaping past your lips.

“I’m not leaving Y/N. You shouldn’t be alone like this.” Luke says moving his hand to place on top of yours, ignoring the fact it didn’t actually touch you.

“I-I’m fine…please. just go.” You mumbled as you looked away from him, moving your knees to be tucked close to your chest.

“You can argue with me all you want, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you bug.” Luke spoke to you in a gentle tone and you couldn’t argue with him that just him being there made your stress slowly wash away.

You didn’t want him seeing you like this, but there wasn’t much you couldn’t do about it. It’s not like you could push him out of your room or something.

Luke watched as you struggled to catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks. He hated how he couldn’t hold you. That’s all he wanted to do. Hug you and whisper nonsense into your ear until you were okay again.

But he couldn’t. Missing touch was the hardest thing Luke had to come to terms with as a ghost.

…the one thing he missed the most.

•~•~•~

Note: I haven’t wrote a fanfic in a long time, so please be nice.🙃

[onlygenxhere]

Kiss Me

It was nearing midnight on the tenth anniversary of her mother’s death and Julie was wondering if this would be the year she’d finally get up the courage to ask Luke to kiss her.

Again.

She’d asked him once before, five years ago on this very night.

She tried not to be obvious as she watched him from her side of the sofa, but his presence was more distracting than usual. Maybe because it was just the two of them left watching a movie they’d both seen before, or maybe it was the thought of what had happened last time bouncing around in her head.

She’d been a little tipsy, but not drunk. Luke had gotten them a bottle of her favorite pink wine even though she shouldn’t have had a favorite wine at all yet, being only twenty. But back then the anniversary of her mami’s passing always brought so much pain with it she tried to numb it as best she could. Luke had been the one to make sure she didn’t do anything too stupid ever since he’d rescued her from a party at Carrie’s house two years prior, before she could finish taking her shirt off and jump in the pool.

Flynn had been distracted with Carrie that night and Alex and Reggie seemed more inclined to let her do what she wanted, even if what she wanted was to get so shitfaced she threw up on her keyboard.

That had been another unfortunate anniversary. 

But, five years ago, Luke had been hiding out in her studio garage having run away from home, so they’d been spending a lot of time alone together outside of band practice.

She’d finished her second large glass of wine and then crawled into Luke’s lap and asked him to make out with her. She remembered telling him the wine hadn’t been enough, and she needed him to help her forget, for just a little while.

“Julie, you don’t know what you’re doing.” He’d gripped her hips tight, pushing her back to sit more on his legs than his lap.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” She remembered leaning forward and how he’d ducked his head.

“You know how I feel about you, but the band needs to come first right now.” He’d looked up at her from under his lashes and she’d felt like such a shit. “I need us to make it, and I can’t risk losing you no matter how much…” He’d sighed and dropped his eyes again, shaking his head.

The rejection had stabbed her in the heart, but she’d understood. He couldn’t go home until the band succeeded. She’d already lost her mother, but Luke still had a chance to get his back.

She’d slid out of his lap to the sofa beside him giving him a tight smile. He was right, she’d been impulsive and was risking messing up this amazing thing they had just to ease the pain in her heart for a little while.

But the wine made her both stupid and reckless and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from suggesting something a little more chase, just to see what it’d be like. She’d leaned into him and said, “Aren’t you curious?” Because as practical as she knew in her head it would be not to kiss, her body still very much wanted to know what he tasted like, what those full lips would feel like pressed against hers.

He’d taken her hand and turned sideways so he could look her in the eyes and if the rest of the night was a little blurry, she never forgot what he said next.

“Julie, I’m not sure I could stop kissing you if I ever did.”

Five years later and she could hear those words in her head like he’d just said them.

She wondered if he remembered.

She’d never really stopped wanting to kiss him.

Through boyfriends and girlfriends, the desire had faded to the background for the most part but was never really gone.

Ten years since Rose Molina had died and in ten more Julie would be the age her mami was when she passed. Was she really going to spend whatever time she got left not going after the one thing she’d wanted as much as she’d ever wanted anything?

The band was doing well. Successful even. They weren’t internationally known yet, but they were on the verge of a major break.

Luke had made up with his parents. They’d all grown up, moved out, and were making a pretty decent living playing music.

Flynn was at her parent’s helping her mom with her dad who had broken his leg last week doing something fifty-five-year-old men shouldn’t be doing so they wouldn’t be interrupted.

She wasn’t dating anyone.

She was pretty sure Luke wasn’t dating anyone.

The question was, was she willing to risk rejection again just to know what it would be like to kiss him. To finally find out if the chemistry she felt every time they were together was more than just the music that ran through both of their hearts and veins.

~*~

Luke could feel Julie’s eyes on him as he pretended to watch the movie. He really should go. It was getting late and the longer he stayed the more he didn’t actually want to leave.

He wished Flynn or one of the guys had been able to stay. Take some of the tension he could feel in the room away. He wasn’t sure what was going on with her tonight. He’d spent the anniversary of her mother’s death with Julie for the last eight years.

Some years had been loud and chaotic with partying and drinking. A few had been quiet and mostly ended in big puppy piles with their friends. He could handle either version of Julie on the anniversary of the loss of Rose Molina, as long as she made it through to the other side without hurting herself or others, he’d always felt like the night was a success.

But tonight felt different. They’d had pizza and chatted about the new album they were working on but didn’t fall into a writing session like they did nine times out of ten. They’d gossiped about Alex and Willie and when they were going to get married or more importantly who would propose first. They talked about her dad and the date he’d been on last week that had him back home by eight. They’d tried not to snicker as he got them to delete the app off his phone as he informed them all he definitely wasn’t ready to move on.

Luke had understood. He let his eyes slide over to Julie for a moment. He’d been trying to move on from her for years with little to no success. He tried dating, but it never lasted. He inevitably ended up pushing them away by talking about the band, Julie, too much. He’d tried casual relationships, but they only fed his physical needs, and he wanted more than that in his life.

Five years ago he did one of the stupidest things he’d ever done in his life. Right up there with eating poisoned hotdogs and spending the night in the ER trying not to die.

He’d turned Julie down when she asked him to kiss her. But even more importantly he didn’t talk to her about it the next day when she was for sure sober and ask if she’d been serious, see if she still wanted to kiss him without the half a bottle of wine coursing through her.

Because he wanted to kiss her. He had then and he did now. The only thing that had changed in the last five years was how successful they were now and how much he loved her. He hadn’t thought he could care about her more than he had then, but he’d been wrong. The way he felt about her then felt like standing in the sun until you started to sweat. Now it felt like he might burn alive from the inside out when he stood in the sunshine of her voice, her eyes, her smile.

That little part of his brain that had told her no that night still whispered what if it wasn’t good. What if she didn’t feel the same. What if changing the dynamic of their relationship broke the band up.

What if it was the best thing that ever happened in his whole life.

“Julie?” “Luke?”

He turned to see her biting back a grin. He should have been surprised at the determined look in her eyes, but he wasn’t.

She threw the blanket on her lap up onto the back of the sofa and slid over into his lap, never looking away from him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed one hand on her back and one on her knee as he took a deep shuddering breath.

“So.” Julie sighed.

“So.” He nodded.

“Five years ago…”

“You asked me to kiss you, and I said no.”

She nodded. “You said no.”

“Are you asking again?”

“Yes.” She licked her lips, her eyes dropping to his before flicking back up to his eyes. “But this will be the last time.”

He nodded. “I’m not sorry I told you no that night five years ago.”

She started to pull away.

“But!” He held her tight. “I should have brought it up again in the morning.” He reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “I should have asked to kiss you at least a couple of years before you asked me that first time.”

“Yeah?” A ghost of a smile quirked at the corner of her lips.

“Five years ago, I was too scared of losing everything, including you, to risk our friendship on the chance that we could be… more.”

“And now?”

He felt her threading fingers in the hairs on the back of his neck as he took another deep breath. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

She nodded before she started to lean closer and whispered inches from his lips. “I think we’ve put this off long enough.”

He put his finger between them and grinned when she pulled back with a frown.

“I told you five years ago I didn’t think I could stop kissing you if we ever did. Just wanna make sure we’ve said everything we need to…” He licked his lips. “For now.”

She snickered as she leaned in again. “You talk too much.”

Their lips met and Luke had been right. He didn’t think anything, but maybe the threat of bodily harm, would make him want to stop kissing Julie Molina.

She seemed to feel the same because neither of them spoke again for a very long time.

[peachiejeongin]

The Phantoms Part 2: Wake Up | Bang Chan

Part 1 | Part 2 (You are here) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a huge night for Chan, Changbin, and Han; they would be playing their biggest show yet at the Orpheum! Yet, it all slipped from their grasp within a matter of a few seconds, as all three passed away just hours before the show. What happens when they end up on their old garage floor and meet a someone who can make their dreams come true again?

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader [Occurs somewhat in this chapter]

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief and loss of a parent, slight bullying

Notice: Hello, my loves! I decided to split episode one into two chapters so it would not be as long! I feel as if this part is a bit repetitive and perhaps a tad rushed, so I do apologize :,) I would also like to clarify that a few aspects of the plot have been edited or removed to fit the concept of this imagine and for brevity! As always, I do NOT own the rights to 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor any of its characters!!! Enjoy the story!

"Alright, we have one final performance. Y/n?"

The sound of your name snapped you out of your daydream, your pen freezing mid-doodle on the back of your sheet music. The teacher's eyes were fixed on you, expectant and unyielding. Panic shot through your chest like a jolt of electricity. You had been counting on the bell to save you, to delay your performance just one more day; however, it seemed as if luck was not on your side.

Growing up, you loved music; your mom, ever so patient and passionate, had taught you how to play every instrument possible, from piano to guitar even going so far as to learn a few drum beats to turn you into the ultimate musical prodigy. Of the plethora of instruments, piano was your speciality; your mother always joked that you could play a Mozart composition with your eyes closed. Music was always the niche for you and your mom.

Now, your mom had passed away, and with her died your passion for playing.

Your newfound disdain for music had not just seeped into your personal lift; it was starting to dismantle the diligent work you had put into your high school’s prestigious music program, one you had worked tirelessly to get into. Motivation to participate in performances, showcases, or even simple rehearsals had evaporated, leaving you adrift. The consequences of your disengagement were becoming painfully clear. Just yesterday morning, the program’s director had pulled you aside, her tone sharp and uncompromising. She made it clear: if you did not perform in this week’s showcase, you would be removed from the program.

Thus, you found yourself rising from your seat in class, the screech of the chair legs pushing back cutting through the silence of the classroom. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, each beat seeming as if it were a signal of the impending doom ahead. You dragged your feet against the ground, anxiously gazing at the piano placed directly in the center of the classroom; the class's gaze followed your heavy, hesitant steps. As you reached the instrument, your trembling hands fumbled with the sheet music, placing it on the stand with an almost imperceptible shake.

"It's okay, y/n," your teacher gave your back a slight pat. "Take your time."

Her words echoed in your mind, yet they did little to ease the dreading ache in your heart; you felt as if every action you took was being rerecorded in slow motion. You hesitantly sat down on the piano bench, the familiar creak of the wood grounding you momentarily. You shakily adjusted your sheet music, perfectly aligning the papers. Your hands shook lightly as you hovered your fingers over the piano keys, hesitating in your dormant abilities, perhaps even questioning them. The weight of expectation bore down on your shoulders, and you felt a pricking sting in the corners of your eyes; tears were threatening to spill over into the vulnerability you were trying so desperately to suppress.

In that moment, all you could think of was yourself as a little girl, perched on your mom's lap. You remembered the warmth of her hands as she gently guided your small fingers to the keys, her voice soft and encouraging as she taught you your first ever composition. The memory was so vivid, it almost felt as if you could hear her voice again, but your heart aching pulled you back into the present.

Your fingers twitched as you attempted to play a note, but your hands came into contact with your lap instead of the instrument, frozen in hesitation. You let out a deep, aggravated sigh and hung your head down, the pressure of your failure too much to bear.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled to your instructor. "I can't do this." The teacher's gaze saddened, her sorrowful expression laced with understanding. She gave a small, sympahtetic nod before gently instructing you to head back to your seat. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hurriedly gathered your music sheets, the papers messily fixated in your grip. Keeping your eyes fixed on the floor, you quickly navigated your way back to your chair, where your best friend, Flynn, waited. Her presence was postulating and comforting, offering quiet reassurance as you sank into the seat besides him.

"Hey, it's okay." Flynn reached out, her hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. Her demeanor was mellow, a blend of sadness and empathy as she leaned closer. "You tried. That's all that matters."

"Is this the part where we clap?" A shrill, grating voice pierced your ears. There was no mistaking it; it belonged to Carrie, your ex-best friend, who seemed to envy your every breath.

"Watch it, Carrie," Flynn warned, side eyeing her deviously as the bell to dismiss class sounded.

It was surreal to think Carrie had once been your closest friend, someone you entrusted every secret with. Yet, everything changed when her father struck gold; he was a musician, and an incredibly famous one at that. The release of his first album catapulted him, and subsequently his daughter, into a wealthy lifestyle; this newfound luxury altered Carrie entirely. The warmth and loyalty you once knew were replaced by traits of arrogance and a biting jealousy that only grew with time.

Flynn motioned for you to walk with her, but you stayed behind for a minute, dejectedly looking towards the teacher. She gave a sad smile, her eyes conveying her despondent tone before she even spoke.

"I'll miss, you, y/n."

---

You pushed open the front door of your home, the familiar squeak of the frame echoing in the quiet entryway. With a weary exhale, you shrugged off your backpack and tossed it down in the corner of the living room, not bothering to check if it landed upright. The events of the day replayed begrudgingly in your mind as you trudged your way towards the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Oh good!" you heard your father exclaim from the kitchen. "You're home. I was about to go watch your brother's game, but then I got a phone call." As you reached the top of the steps, you paused and turned around, your gaze landing on your father's stance in the doorway; he had his camera in hand, yet the familiar device seemed almost out of place with the tension rising in the atmosphere. His expression was undeterminable, but the weight of his stare made your stomach churn with guilt. A regretful look crossed your face, figuring he already knew about your removal. from the music program

"Yeah, I figured as much," you confessed, your eyes glued to the ground.

"Well, it was my realtor friend."

A wave of relief washed over you, the weight on your shoulders lightening; for a fleeting moment, you were grateful for the small miracle. Yet, as you looked up at him and noticed the optimism on his face, a knot tightened in your stomach. Taking into account the gravity of his statement made your solace disappate.

"Oh, right. That." In hindsight, this phone call was not any better. Since your mom's passing, your dad had constantly brought up selling the house, convinced it was the best way to get a, "fresh start." He thought moving away from the place that held so many memories of her would help him escape the grief that lingered in every room. But to you, this house was more than four walls; it was the last place where everything still felt whole, where her presence could still be felt.

"Yeah, and she says if we are serious about selling the house, then she wants me to take some pictures for the website." He motioned to his camera briefly. "Which means we'll have to do a lot of cleaning and get rid of some stuff, and I was hoping maybe," he stopped speaking for a moment, taking what seemed like a reluctant breath, "you could tackle mom's studio? I mean, you're the expert. Your brother and I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Your eyes widened and your gaze was back to staring at your shoes. You felt a lump in your throat as you anxiously pondered the idea.

Since your mom’s passing, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to step back into the garage she had lovingly transformed into her music studio. The guitars stood untouched, their strings quietly gathering dust. The drum kit sat still, its once lively rhythm now replaced by the soft whispers of the wind. Even the piano keys, once vibrant under her fingertips, were now dulled by neglect. You had tried to go back once, but the memories overwhelmed you before you even reached the stone path leading to the building. Now, knowing that your family home, and your mom’s studio along with it, would soon be sold made the weight in your chest unbearable. The thought of losing this last physical connection to her filled your mind with an ache you couldn’t shake. Your dad, watching you wrestle with the turmoil, caught onto your fearful hesitation, his expression softening as if he could sense the storm raging inside you.

"Honey, if you don't want to, it's okay," he reassured you. "I can always-"

"No, it's fine," you interjected. "I'll start on it tonight." You nodded, a blend of hesitance and determination flickering across your face. Deep down, you were not sure if you were sure that ready to face the ghosts of your past, but you were sure that you were tired of letting fear hold you back. Even if the weight of your emotions felt insurmountable, you knew you could not let cowardice define you, not when it came to your mom’s musical legacy. You at least owed it to her to honor her craft. You had to do this.

"Yeah?" your dad inquired hopefully. You nodded your head and your dad clasped his hands together in delight. "Awesome, sweetheart, thank you!" He made his way to the front door before suddenly stopping and turning back to you. "And uh, don't forget the loft. You know those old instruments that were there when we moved in? Like, the drumkit and the red bass and such? They need a new home."

"Mom would like that," you agreed, reminiscing on your mom's kind heart.

"Yeah, she would." Your dad checked his wrist-watch, his solumn expression quickly changing into one of worry. "Oh no, I am going to be late." He scrambled around the living room in search of his car keys.

"On the counter," you called to him; his gaze shifted to the countertop in the kitchen, and he caught sight of the silver key ring.

"You're a lifesaver!" He snatched his keys and shot a playful finger gun towards you as he made his way out the front door.

---

Night time came much too fast.

You begrudgingly trekked down the cobblestone path leading to your mom's studio. The night was quiet, the stars and moon being the only sources of illumination down the path. Your hand quivered as you reached for the door handle; you paused for a moment as you fully grasped the handle, taking a deep breath before opening the door and flicking on the light switch.

The studio looked untouched, frozen in time, exactly as it had been the last time you stepped inside with your mom. The faint scent of wood polish and sheet music still lingered in the air, like a fragile whisper of the past. You stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in, your eyes scanning the familiar space as if seeing it for the first time. Every detail, from the neatly stacked sheet music, to the instruments resting in their usual places, felt both comforting and saddening; it was a bittersweet reminder of a world you could not bring yourself to fully return to.

Your feet carried you to the piano first, your finger absently tracing a line through the thin layer of dust that had settled on the keys. The instrument, once vibrant with life, now seemed like a relic of a distant past. Your gaze drifted to the small table beside it, landing on a framed photo that had remained untouched. It was a picture of you and your mom, taken on a sunny day at the amusement park. The two of you were grinning ear to ear, your laughter practically radiating from the image. Now, the sight of those bright beams brought a hollow ache in your chest. You picked up the photo, the cool metal of the frame grounding you as your thumb gently brushed over its corner.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," you regretfully apologized as you made eye contact with her photograph. "I'm sorry I haven't been out here." You delicately sat down the picture frame and made your way to the opposite corner of the room. Here lay your mom's "treasure chest," as she referred to it. Truthfully, it was a chest that contained all of her collectibles from over the years, from music albums to band t-shirts she had decorated with shimmering sequins and jewels.

Curiosity tugged at you as you knelt before the chest, its lid creaking slightly as you pushed it open. You began sifting through the items inside, each one layered with the dust of forgotten time. Your fingers brushed over fabric, paper, and finally something smooth and hard. Your nails clinked against the plastic, piquing your interest. Gripping the object, you pulled it free and held it up to the light; it was a CD encasing. Its cover was black with bold, curving white letters spelling out the band’s name across the front.

"3RACHA."

'"I guess some music while I'm cleaning wouldn't hurt," you thought aloud. You walked over to the coffee table, sat in front of the brown, leather couch in the center of the studio; sat atop the table was a retro CD player your mom had found at a garage sale about five or so years ago. Carefully, you removed the disc from its casing and deposited it into the player, pressing the play button once it was fully inserted. You began making your way up to the loft, deciding to tackle that area first as the music began to play...

"Take off Last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge..."

It was here that the music began to sound a bit strange. The melody began to warp, becoming almost unrecognizable as it was gradually overtaken by a disturbing sound that sounded like...screaming? At first faint, it quickly swelled, rising to an unbearable intensity that made your skin crawl. The screeching noise clawed at your senses, so sharp and overwhelming that you instinctively clamped your hands over your ears, desperate to block it out.

There was a flash of light, and three guys appeared on the garage floor out of nowhere. They groaned in pain, their bodies stiff as if waking from a long slumber. You let out a bewildered gasp, the scene before you surreal. The three of them got to their feet, their eyes wide as they took in their new surroundings. They looked around, dazed and amazed

"Woah!" the middle one spoke, his tone laced with a moderate Australian accent. "Woah! How did we get back here?" he inquired to nobody in particular, pointing at every facet in the studio.

A horrified, prolonged scream escaped your mouth before you could comprehend the sight in front of you, causing all three boys to look at you; fear was present in all three of their gazes as well. Before you knew it, they were screaming as well, squirming around in terror and holding onto each other for dear life. You were still shrieking as you ran out of the studio, fleeing back to your house as fast as your legs could carry you. You only ceased your sprint when you ran into your dad.

"Woah, slow down!" he chuckled while commanding. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I have!" you spit out without thinking, making your brother express his intrigue. You did not respond, however, fleeing up the porch stairs and running into your bedroom. You immediately pulled out your cell phone, texting Flynn your emergency code.

'SOS!'

---

"Come on, Flynn," you groaned as the minutes dragged by. "SOS means SOS! Why aren't you answering me?"

"Sweetheart?" you heard a knock at your door and squealed at the noise, instantly calming down once you saw that it was your dad. "Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were alright." He took a seat besides you on your bed, looking down at you concerned.

"You don't believe me, do you?" you inquired, your gaze intently focused on your pillows.

"Of course I do, honey," your dad responded. "I see your mom all the time!"

"This isn't like that."

"I know, it's different for everybody, but-"

"Dad, you're not listening to me!" you interrupted, exasperated out of frustration. "I saw something out there, something that wasn't mom."

"Okay, I'm sorry," your dad threw his hands up. "Tell me what you saw. Nobody else is listening, and this is not a judgmental environment."

"You sound like the psychiatrist," you told him bluntly.

"Yeah, well maybe seeing the psychiatrist again isn't such a bad idea," your dad attempted to crack a joke, but the comment riled you up further.

"Can we just drop this?!" you asked, your voice rising to an octave near a yell, the frustration and confusion in your words impossible to contain. Your dad let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he stood up, the weight of your question settling between you.

"Okay. Dropped."

---

You tried to talk yourself out of returning to your mom’s studio, but curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you back. You needed to understand what you had seen, to prove to yourself, and to your dad, that you were not losing your mind. With a hesitant breath, you made your way down the cobbled path until you stood before the familiar door of the studio. In your hands, you gripped a makeshift crucifix, hastily crafted from sticks

"Are you still here?" you quieried the empty building. "Whatever you are?" You spun in every direction, your eyes scanning the shadows and corners, searching for something—anything—that might explain what had just occurred. stopping when you turned back to the front entrance. When you finally turned back toward the front entrance, you saw nothing. The room was still, silent, as if it were mocking you. A wave of frustration washed over you, and with a defeated sigh, you dropped your hands, letting them fall to your sides. The emptiness around you felt suffocating, and you wondered if you were just imagining it all.

"I know I saw something, I'm not crazy!"

"Well, we're all a little crazy, mate." You heard the same Australian accent from earlier behind you; you swiftly circled around to see the same three boys standing behind you. They all had small smiles plastered on their faces. Reflexively, you began to scream once more, holding out the crucifix in front of you; this time, you were quickly shushed by the Australian boy.

"Please stop screaming!" he pleaded with you, and you did as demanded, albeit reluctantly.

"W-who are you?!" you interrogated. "What are you doing in my mom's studio?"

"Your mom's studio?" the Australian bewilderedly asked as he took a few steps toward you; you swiftly pointed the crucifix towards him, chasing him throughout the middle section of the garage as if he were some demonic being that was about to possess you.

"This is our studio! Trust me! Okay sure, the grand piano is new, and..." Your efforts caused the teenage boy to scramble over the aforementioned instrument; however, his attention quickly fixated on the couch. His eyes widened, seeming as if he was looking at an old friend for the first time.

"MY COUCH!" he yelled in delight as he threw himself onto the piece of furniture, kicking his feet up onto one of the arm rests. His eyes closed in a restful manner; when they opened once more, they trailed to the guitar beside the couch, the sight of which made him stand up once again. His eyebrows knit together as he pointed to the unfamiliar instrument. "But that is definitely not my six-string." He hurriedly shuffled back over to the other two, confusion rattling in his brain. "Give us a second," he gave you a brief, somewhat phony smile before turning around and forming a huddle with the guys. You listened in on their conversation:

"Guys! What is going on? How did she get her stuff in here so fast?"

"Maybe she's a witch? I mean, there are chairs on the ceiling," the shortest of the three suggested, pointing up at the ceiling; he was buffer than the other two, sporting a white, tight fitted t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a red flannel wrapped around his waist.

"Okay, witches aren't real," the boy who you could best describe as looking like a squirrel shook his head in disbelief; he had on a black backwards cap with a pink hoodie snug under a jean jacket.

"You sure? Because I used to think ghosts weren't real!"

"Fair point."

"Okay, so we're definitely going with witch," the Aussie decided, looking in between his mates for reassurance on the claim; he was wearing a white band tee with the sleeves cut off and a blue oversized jacket over top.

The buffer boy nodded his head in agreement; however, the squirrel knitted his eyebrows togehter, waving his hand dismissively in contrast.

"No, we are not! Okay, she is not a witch; she is clearly just scared. So let someone with a softer touch handle this!" He concluded his monologue with a sharp clap of his hands toward the other two, the sound echoing in the stillness. He began to approach you, his steps slow and deliberate, dragging as though he had all the time in the world. The air between you thickened, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he drew closer, his movements unhurried but somehow foreboding.

"Why are you in our studio?" he asked, accentuating his mouth in a strange motion. In a burst of sheer fear, you thrust the makeshift cross forward, driving it straight into his middle. You gasped in horror as the crucifix passed through his form as if he were nothing but a faint, shifting hologram.

"Oh my gosh!" you shrieked as you pulled the cross away; your panicked eyes flickered first to the cross, then horrifiedly shifted back to the boy. "How did you do that?!" He looked back at the other two narrowing his eyes out of conclusive annoyance.

"Okay, clearly, you're not getting it," he condescended, rubbing the corners of his eyes once he turned back towards you. "Okay, we are ghosts," he motioned to himself and the other two. "We're just three ghosts who have no idea how they got back home but they are really happy to be here! So thank you for the new decor, it really brightens up the room, but we've got it from here."

"We're actually in a band called 3RACHA," the Australian chimed in, causing you to swiftly adjust your head in order to get a good look at him while the shorter boy chimed in with, "Tell your friends!"

Woah, he was hot. Not in the typical high school heartthrob way, but more in the supernatural sense, like someone you would never expect to develop a crush on, yet here you were, inexplicably drawn to him. His smile was dazzling, cheeky, and almost too perfect, while his loose band tee couldn't quite hide the way his slim yet muscular frame moved with an effortless confidence. You found yourself lingering on every detail, but you snapped out of your daze when he spoke again, grounding yourself back in reality.

"Last night was supposed to be a huge night for us," he explained. "It was supposed to change our lives."

"I'm pretty sure it did," the short one responded, earning a flick on the back of the head from the Aussie. You were convinced you were losing it, even if everybody was, "all a little crazy."

"This is freaking me out," you exclaimed. In order to prove their claims, and reassure the doubt lingering in your gut, you pulled out your cellphone from the back pocket of your jeans.

"What is that? What are you doing?" The Australian peered over your shoulder, motioning to your cellphone.

"It's my phone," you started to expound, but quickly caught yourself, biting back the words before they could spill out. Instead, you shifted the conversation, turning the focus back to yourself with an awkward yet determined attempt to regain control. "Nope! Stop talking to them! They aren't real! There's no such thing as cute ghosts!"

"Aw, she thinks we're cute!" the shorter boy cooed. His adoring realization elicited a warning eye from you, prompting him to silence as he pressed his lips into a thin line. Your attention refocused on your phone, and you scrolled through social media applications and gaming selections until you found your search engine. Your fingers fidgeted as you typed the band's name into the search bar in a rushed manner.

"Who ya calling?" the boy with the squirrel-esque features inquired. You jerked your head up to face him, annoyance washing over you after being inquired for the second time that night.

"I'm googling the band Sriracha."

"THREEracha," all three of them corrected at the same time. You jumped back slightly, quickly correcting the name in the search bar. As soon as you typed in the band’s name, the first result that popped up was a news article titled, "3RACHA: A Hollywood Tragedy." Intrigued, you clicked the link, and within seconds, a photo of four boys appeared on the screen. Three of them were unmistakably the ones standing right in front of you.

"Okay! There is a 3RACHA." You spoke to yourself, relieved that this was not just your imagination. The three guys nodded as if to say, "Obviously!" You read the first paragraph of the article, which stated as follows:

"Last week the music industry lost an up and coming band that could have taken the world by storm and topped the charts. 3RACHA was a local band out of Hollywood having sold out its showcase on Saturday. Unfortunately, the band never made it to the stage. Three of its members, Chan, Han, and Changbin, tragically died when they ate bad street hot dogs. It was supposed to be their biggest night, opening live at the Orpheum Theater on the Sunset Strip. They were only 17. There was a surviving band member, Hyunjin, but no one has been able to track him down and talk to him about his friends dying that fateful night."

You focused particularly on the date the article was released: July 29, 1995.

"You did die," you muttered upon seeing it. "But not last night. You died 29 years ago." As the words fell from your mouth, all three boys exchanged glances, their faces twisted in confusion, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape in disbelief.

"What? No way. That's not possible. After we floated out of the ambulance, all we did was go to that dark room where Han cried." Upon the shorter boy's statement, the squirrel-esque boy began to stammer.

"Well," he prolonged his high-pitched voice. "I don't think, I think we were all pretty upset, y'know?"

"But that was only for like an hour," the Australian boy jerked his head up, the look in his eyes nothing short of perplexation. "We just showed up here."

"Look, I'm just telling you what my phone says." You turned your phone around so they could read the article for themselves. "You died in 1995 when you were all 17. It's now 2024. All three boys looked at each other, their expressions a mix of utter confusion, as if their very souls were trying to make sense of what was happening.

"So, it's been 29 years?" the squirrely boy raised his hands behind his head, his posture tense, as if he were on the verge of a breakdown. "I have been crying for 29 years?! How is this possible?!"

"Well, you're a very emotional person," the shortest attempted to put his hand on the boy's shoulder in hopes of comforting him, but it was immediately shrugged off.

"I AM NOT."

You sighed in frustration at the boys' conversation, turning to leave the studio. But before you stepped out, you paused and glanced back at them, your brow knitted in vexation.

"Look," you began sternly, "I am very sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn't your studio anymore. You need to leave." You attempted to exit again, but the Australian member called for you to wait.

"We never got your name," he tilted his head and slightly smiled in an attempt to be friendly.

"Y/n," you answered bluntly.

"Cool, I'm Chan..." he moved towards you, resulting in the crucifix being raised once again, "...by the way, and this is-"

"Changbin! Hey, I'm Changbin," the short, buff boy introduced himself, his soft voice not matching his build in the slightest.

"I'm Han, how's it going," the squirrel-esque male was the last the greet you. You shrugged your shoulders and pursed your lips.

"Okay?" you muttered, shaking your head before storming out of the studio. You slammed the door behind you, leaving the three boys standing there, dazed and speechless.

"Y/n seems nice!" Changbin beamed after a few seconds. Chan raised an eyebrow, a puzzled frown tugging at his lips, while Han’s gaze flickered between Changbin and him, clearly thrown off by the awkwardness of the situation.

"Did you miss the part where she kicked us out, Bin?"

---

After setting the table and blessing the food, you tried your best to settle into what should have been a normal family dinner. As normal as it could be, at least, considering the bizarre events of the day; after all, encountering three ghosts that no one would believe you about was not something you could easily put behind you. You poked at your plate absentmindedly, lost in your thoughts, when suddenly, you felt a hand clamp down on your shoulder. You jolted, glancing up to find your aunt standing behind you, her face serious. She had come over for dinner, but now her presence seemed even more weighty, as she leaned in and whispered how she needed to have an important conversation with you.

"Now, sweetie," she began sugarly, "I want you to know there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of?" Your eyes widened in alarm, a cold wave of realization washing over you. You could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air, and you knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"Uh, that's so funny of you to say!" you tried to blow off the conversation.

"Well, honey," your aunt continued, her voice soft yet firm, "all I was going to say was that now that you aren't in the music program anymore, you can focus on your academics!" You let out a quiet breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your body unwinding with the release of tension. But as your eyes flickered toward your father, you immediately sensed the disappointment etched across his face, further proven by the way he dramatically cleared his throat. The action hung there like a shadow, unspoken but heavy, and it made the room feel colder. Your aunt looked at him, her expression etched with confusion.

"You got the email from the school, yes?" she asked.

"We're still discussing it," your dad replied harshly. His angry, piercing stare never left your solemn gaze, causing your heart to sink down to your stomach.

"Eh, no matter," your aunt dismissed. "Now, excuse me. I have to run to the restroom." She strutted away from the table, seemingly in attempts to escape the conversation she had started.

"So, when were you going to tell me?"

Before you could formulate a response, a sudden blast of rock music pierced through the air, reverberating from somewhere in the distance. The unmistakable beat of the guitar and heavy drums echoed from the garage, loud enough to drown out the quiet tension at the table. It was jarring, almost out of place, and it drew your attention away from the conversation.

"What is that?" your father inquired, his voice laced with alarm.

"Uh, I must have left the stereo on in the garage!" you exclaimed. "Let me go turn it off!" You darted out of the house and out of the conversation. Your heart raced as you made your way toward the garage, and as you rounded the corner, the noise grew louder. You froze for a moment, eyes wide, as you took in the sight of the three boys. They were completely immersed in their music, jamming out with an ease that left you speechless. Somehow, they had found their instruments and were tearing through an old rock song, the sound of their music filling the air like an electrifying presence.

"Guys, cut it out!" you yelled. They did not listen to you, however, drowning your command out with a crescendo of music. You rolled your eyes, reaching down to unplug Chan's guitar from the speaker; you threatened to do the same with Changbin's bass, but the music halted before you resorted to that measure. "The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you guys to leave." To your surprise, the band looked more delighted than depressed.

"People can hear us play?" Chan asked, a cheeky smile spreading across his face as he looked at you. His confidence was almost teasing, as if he were fully aware of the effect his music, and perhaps his presence, was having on you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from blushing, your heart suddenly racing for reasons you could not quite explain. The playful glint in his eyes only made it harder to focus.

"Yes! My dad specifically!" you snapped, your voice a little sharper than you intended. You tried to mask the shy undertone with feigned anger, crossing your arms as if that might make the situation feel less awkward.

"So, only you can see us, but everybody can hear us?" Changbin asked rhetorically. "What kind of ghosts are we?!"

"Who cares man!" Chan yelled out enthusiastically. "People can hear us play!" The three of them came together at Han's drumset, fistbumping and high fiving one another.

"We may be dead, but our music isn't!" Han remarked. You sighed, frustration bubbling up as you stood there, irritated by the bizarre turn of events. Everything about this situation felt off, with your dad, and now the ghosts casually playing rock music in your garage. It was all too much to process, and yet, here you were, stuck in the middle of it all.

"Why can’t you guys be normal ghosts?!" you shouted, your voice higher and sharp with frustration. The words burst out before you could stop them, making all three boys flinch in surprise. "Hang out at an old mansion! I hear Pasadena’s nice!" Without waiting for a response, you stormed out of the studio, the door slamming behind you with a force that seemed to shake the walls.

"I've always wanted to go to Pasadena," Changbin muttered, completely oblivious to your frustration. Chan was the first to react, teleporting out of the garage with Han close behind him. Changbin, still lost in his Pasadena fantasies, followed after he snapped back to reality. Within seconds, all three of them appeared in front of you just as you reached the steps leading up to your house. You squealed in shock, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden appearance of the ghosts. But before they could say anything, annoyance quickly washed over you, the frustration you’d been holding back resurfacing in full force.

"What now?!" you asked them, your tone encapsulated by rage. You crossed your arms, your gaze impatiently moving between all three of them as you waited for an answer.

"Look, I know this is all completely insane," Chan began to tell you, "but you do know how rad this is? People, actual people can hear us play!" He was absolutely stoked, contrasting your sorrowful demeanor.

"Yeah, it's just I've just had a really, really awful day. I gotta go." You attempted to evade the pep-talk, but Chan began again before you could get too far.

"Well, I'm sorry you had a bad day, but three guys just found out that they had a bad 29 years," he retaliated, "and then they found out that the one thing they lived for in the first place they can still do. That's pretty rad."

"You're right. It's just..."

"Your bad day. Yeah. I know," Chan interjected. "Look, I'm sorry we came into your life, but what I just felt in there actually made me feel alive again. We all felt alive again. So, you can kick us out if you want, but we're not giving up music. We can play again. That's a gift no musician would ever turn down."

You sighed, the sound a mixture of irritation and a lingering sadness that weighed heavy in your chest. The frustration from earlier still simmered, but Chan’s words caught you off guard. "You gotta know that. Clearly, your mom was into music." His voice was gentle, almost too understanding, and it only made the ache in your heart grow stronger. You shifted your gaze from him to the ground, the quiet pressure of his statement settling in. It felt like a reminder you were not ready to hear.

"Was," you corrected softly, your voice catching slightly. "She passed away." The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The boys exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from playful to somber.

"I am... so sorry," Chan murmured, his voice filled with genuine regret. He moved as if to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, but his ghostly fingers passed straight through you, the gesture falling short. Despite the ethereal nature of his attempt, the warmth of his intention still made your heart skip a beat, leaving a strange mix of comfort and sadness swirling within you.

"Yeah, we didn't know," Han explained, his mind racing with panic.

"It's all right," you breathed out, regret now present in your voice. "You guys haven't seen her anywhere, have you? From wherever you're from." You figured they would not have, but it never hurts to ask.

"Um..." Chan hesitated. "No. No, I mean, you're kind of the first person we've seen."

"Yeah, but she's not dead, so it doesn't answer her question," Changbin put his two sense in, earning an irritated side-eye from Han.

"Yeah. I think she knows what we mean. I'm sorry for your loss," Chan commented once again, his eyes just as dejected as yours were.

"Thanks," you shook your head in understanding. "Sorry I got mad. You guys are kinda good."

"Kinda?" Chan sounded playfully offended. "Y-Y-You know that's like 29 years of rust just getting dusted off." For the first time since meeting the boys, you smiled at them, and your grin made Chan's eyes light up.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on you with an almost admiring intensity. He didn’t say anything more, until Han, with a knowing look, smacked his shoulder to snap him out of it. Chan blinked, visibly shaking himself from the moment. "Uh, do you play the piano too?" he asked, his voice suddenly more tentative, trying to shift the attention away from his earlier slip. The change in his tone was almost too obvious, but the question itself felt genuine.

You dithered slightly before responding: "No. No, I don't play. That was my mom's stuff in there. She's an amazing songwriter." You puzzled yourself by the lie, knowing full good and well you could play.

"She was," Chan nodded in agreement. You looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

"Wait. How would you know?"

"There's a song on the piano," Chan explained. "If it's hers, then your mom was really talented." His tone had a certain fondness to it, as if he knew your mother like an old friend; it made your face go hot. The compliment of your mother's abilities caused you to reconsider your prior statements.

"I guess," you began while grinning, "if you guys need a place to stay, you can stay here." The boys widened their eyes in delight, their mouths forming into bright grins. "There's a bathroom in the back and a couch that turns into a bed if you still use any of that stuff." Upon finishing your words, Changbin instantly threw his hand up.

"Dibs on the shower!" You side-eyed the boy but laughed at his strange actions. "I just really like showers and sometimes the occasional bath."

"You are so weird," Han commented while throwing an arm around the boy and leading him into the studio. Chan giggled at the actions of his bandmates before turning around to face you.

"Thank you, y/n," he nodded, his close-mouthed smile warm and sincere, as if your kindness meant more than words could express. "See you tomorrow?" His voice was gentle, a hint of hope behind it, but you could not bring yourself to meet his gaze. You looked down at the ground, your heart beating faster as your timidness took over.

"Yeah, you will," you finally nodded meekly; Chan bit his lip excitedly before joining Han and Changbin in the studio. You shook your head in disbelief, smiling at nothing in particular.

"This is too weird."

---

All night, you thought about what Chan had said:

"There's a song on the piano. If it's hers, then your mom was really talented."

What song could it have been? You thought back to all the songs your mom had written before her passing. She was undeniably talented, but most of them were not the kind that would have evoked such deep, overwhelming emotion. With this thought spinning in your head, you reluctantly woke up early for school the next morning. The darkness outside still held onto the quiet of night, the sun just beginning to grace the horizon with its pale light. You dressed quickly, your movements automatic as your mind continued to race. Despite the overwhelming sense of dread you felt every time you approached the studio, there was something else undeniable pulling you back. It was ironic, really, that this was your fourth visit to the studio in just two days, and yet it still felt like stepping into a place that had been off-limits for years. The weight of it all settled in your chest, but you could not shake the nagging feeling that you needed to be there.

You walked straight to the piano, the familiar coolness of the keys beneath your fingertips positioning you as you hesitated for only a moment before pressing your fingers gently against them. The sound was quiet, barely a whisper, but it was enough to settle your nerves. Your gaze quickly found the song Chan had mentioned, your eyes scanning over the notes as if searching for something you could not quite name.

This song was new; it was not like any other one your mom had taught you how to play. You read the lyrics, tearing up as each word resonated deep within your soul; it was almost as if this was her departing message to you. Your eyes flicked to the bottom of the page, a handwritten note from your mom reading: "Never give up, y/n. I love you, forever."

You sat down on the piano bench, your fingers finding the starting notes. Taking a deep breath, you began to play, adding your own rhythm as the melody unfolded. As your voice joined in, it felt natural, almost as if the song had always been inside you.

"Here's the one thing I want you to know You got someplace to go Life's a test yes But you go toe to toe You don't give up no you grow."

The lyrics poured out softly, carrying the weight of memories and emotions you hadn’t known you were ready to face. For a brief moment, it was as though your mom was right there with you, her presence lingering in the music.

"And you use your pain 'Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it"

The last line caused your voice to waver, the emotion swelling in your chest. You wished, more than anything, that your mom were here with you now—holding you through the grief that had been building for so long. The ache of her absence hit harder than ever, and for a moment, the music felt like the only connection left.

"I know it's not the same You got livin' to do And I just want you to do it

So get up, get out relight that spark You know the rest by heart"

The notes grew stronger as you reached the chorus, your fingers pressing the keys with growing intensity. A sense of pride swelled within you for your mother’s songwriting talent, and with it came a surge of confidence. As the music enveloped you, it felt like a reclamation of something you had lost, a reminder of your own strength through the melody she had left behind.

"Wake up, wake up if it's all you do Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost It's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain"

"Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up Wake up"

The sun began to rise over the treetops as you reached the bridge, its golden light spilling over the landscape. Unbeknownst to you, your father stood on the porch, bathed in that same light. His eyes sparkled with quiet joy, a soft smile on his lips as he listened to your voice carry through the air. In that moment, he knew: his daughter was back. The music had returned, and with it, the hope he had thought was lost.

"So wake that spirit spirit I wanna hear it hear it No need to fear it you're not alone You're gonna find your way home"

The final lyric soared into a high note, your own subtle twist on the song. With each note that filled the small studio, you felt your passion for playing reignite. The music flowed through you, every chord more powerful than the last. You finished with a dramatic low note, the sound lingering in the air. Your eyes remained fixed on the sheet music, drawn to the note at the bottom. You read it over and over, as if trying to unlock a secret it held just for you.

You did it. You woke up.

You woke up and rediscovered your love for music. You woke up from the long, paralyzing nightmare of your mother's death and escaped the grief that was holding you back. You woke up and found yourself, realizing who you were:

You were Rose's daughter, the child of a musical genius, and you were not going to let her legacy pass on with her.

You breathed in deeply, joyful tears filling your eyes as your heart pumped with a newfound courage.

In that moment, although you were not aware of it, four pairs of eyes shimmered...

[jatpfanfics]

Echoes of the Heart (A Juke lovestory)

Summary: Luke Patterson, a rising star in the music scene, grapples with his feelings for his childhood best friend, Julie. Despite his fear of commitment, Luke's love for Julie is undeniable. However, when Julie shows interest in someone else, Luke must confront his feelings before it's too late. Will he risk it all for love, or will his fear drive them apart? Follow their journey of friendship, love, and music.

Chapter 1 - The Night We (almost)Owned

22 January, 2020 

Luke leaned against the cold concrete wall, the thumping bass from the stage reverberating through his body and his chest still heaving from the encounter he just had. Even though he's outside he can feel the wall slightly thumping from the bass inside.

"Thank you sweetheart. You just blessed me with some good luck before my show." He says showing off his perfect pearly whites as he is getting ready to leave this scene.

The groupie, her eyes still glazed with desire, sidled up to him, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Leaving so soon, Luke?" she purred, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt.

Luke flashed her a charming grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, duty calls. Can't keep the fans waiting."

The groupie pouted, her lower lip jutting out in a playful pout. "But I thought we were having fun, Luke. Don't you want to stay and play a little longer?"

"I'm good sweetheart. This is kinda my thing, I don't do well on the whole commitment thing" He says shooting her a wink.

"Yeah, yeah, you always say that," she said smugly. "But then you also always come back around. That's some kind of commitment isn't it."

The sound of her smugness slightly annoyed him. He didn't like her thinking she had some sort of power over him. She could never. That was reserved for one person only. The one person that had Luke's heart in a chokehold. Luke felt a sharp pang in his chest thinking about the last time he saw her.

_________

20 January, 2020

The moon cast a soft glow through Julie's bedroom window as Luke slipped through the shadows, his heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and relief. He had been here countless times before, seeking refuge from the storm that raged within his own home. As he reached Julie's window, he tapped lightly on the glass, the sound barely audible over the distant hum of the city. Julie's face appeared in the window, her expression calm and understanding. She didn't even need to ask what he was doing here; it was routine for them. Without a word, she swung the window open, allowing Luke to slip into the room.

He didn't waste any time in crossing the room and collapsing onto Julie's bed, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. Julie followed, closing the window behind her before sitting down beside him. There was a familiarity in their movements, a silent understanding that had been forged through countless nights like this one.

"Rough night?" Julie asked softly, her voice a gentle reassurance in the darkness.

Luke nodded, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he struggled to put his feelings into words. "I just...I don't know what to do anymore, Jules. It's like no matter what I do, it's never good enough for them. They just don't understand why music means so much to me. It's the only thing I'm actually good at."

Luke gets up to make his way to Julie's dresser to retrieve his sleepwear. He opened the bottom drawer and rummaged around for a moment before finding his shorts neatly folded at the back. 

"You know, Luke, you don't have to keep pretending like everything's okay with your parents. It's okay to admit that you're struggling."

Luke paused mid-motion, his gaze meeting Julie's in the dim light of the room. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that made his heart ache, a tenderness that he couldn't help but be drawn to.

"I know, Jules," he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But it's easier to just pretend like everything's fine, you know? It's easier than facing the truth." Julie nodded in understanding.

With practiced ease, Luke peeled off his shirt, revealing the smooth lines of his toned physique. Julie's eyes flicked over to him, her gaze lingering on his bare chest for just a moment longer than necessary. She quickly averted her eyes, cheeks flushing with a faint pink hue, even though she was definitely already familiar with the sight. This was routine for them, after all. 

Luke caught the subtle shift in her demeanor and couldn't help but smirk, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Like what you see, Jules?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Julie's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as she hastily returned her attention to her book, hoping to hide her embarrassment. "Shut up, Luke," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luke chuckled softly as he pulled on his shorts, the fabric hanging loosely around his hips. "You know you love it," he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her further. 

"And you know you love being the little spoon" Julie fires back while sticking her tongue out. 

Luke chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he settled onto the bed beside Julie. "You know it," he replied, flashing her a playful grin.

Julie rolled her eyes, but a fond smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Luke scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his embrace. "Come on, Jules, you know you love being the big spoon," he teased, nuzzling into her neck.

Julie laughed, her heart swelling with warmth at the familiar banter between them. "Only because you hog all the blankets," she retorted, leaning back into his embrace.

They settled onto the bed together, Julie's warmth enveloping him like a cocoon as they snuggled close, seeking solace in each other's presence. It was a familiar ritual, one they had shared countless times before.

They lay there together in comfortable silence, the soft rhythm of their breathing filling the room. In moments like these, surrounded by the warmth of each other's presence, they felt like nothing could touch them

_______________________

22 January, 2020 

As the memory of their intimate moment faded into the recesses of Luke's mind, he blinked back to the present. With a forced chuckle, Luke gently extricated himself from the groupie's grasp and headed toward the venue, leaving her behind with nothing but a lingering memory of their brief encounter.

"I'll see you around Patterson" Is all he heard before he entered the venue. He pushed open the door, the thumping bass sending a jolt of electricity through his veins. The stage was their sanctuary, their domain where they reigned supreme. The neon lights of the venue flickered and danced in the night as Luke made his way through the entrance. The familiar buzz of excitement pulsed through the air, mingling with the distant hum of the crowd inside.

As he made it backstage Reggie and Alex looked up from where they were tuning their instruments, their expressions a mixture of relief and concern. 

"Luke, where the hell have you been?"

Reggie's voice carried a hint of exasperation as he eyed his bandmate. Luke flashed them a winning grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"Oh, you know, just tying up some loose ends. Nothing to worry about." Alex raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone. 

"Tying up loose ends? Is that what you call it now?" 

Luke chuckled, his laughter ringing out in the dimly lit corridor. "Hey, a man's gotta have his goodluck charm, right?"

Reggie shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. Alex rolled his eyes "I hardly think your disgusting alley way hookup is gonna be the reason we kill this show."

Luke waved off their concerns with a dismissive gesture. "Relax, guys. I'm here, aren't I? And besides, I always deliver when it counts."

______________________________

As Luke stepped into the spotlight, the roar of the crowd washed over him like a tidal wave. With a smirk, he launched into the first chords, his fingers dancing across the strings with practiced ease.

This was where he belonged, in the heart of the chaos, where the music flowed like a river of fire. And as he sang, the lyrics pouring from his lips like molten gold, Luke felt alive in a way he never had before.

Luke shredded through the final chorus of their latest hit, the crowd erupting into cheers, their voices blending with the pounding rhythm of the drums. Sweat dripped from his brow as he grinned, adrenaline coursing through his veins like wildfire. This was the high he lived for-the raw energy of a live performance, the intoxicating rush of being on stage.

With a flourish, Luke tossed his guitar pick into the crowd, a gesture that sent the audience into a frenzy. He soaked in their adulation, reveling in the momentary fame that came with being the frontman of a rock band.

But as the lights dimmed and the band made their way off stage, Luke's thoughts turned to the real reason he was here-the music. It was his passion, his obsession, the one thing that consumed his every waking moment. Everything else-the parties, the girls, the fleeting fame-was just a distraction, a temporary fix to numb the ache in his soul.

As the band members made their way backstage, their adrenaline still coursing through their veins, they exchanged excited chatter and high-fives.

"That was insane!" Luke exclaimed, his eyes shining with exhilaration. " The energy in the room was off the chains tonight!"

Reggie grinned, his usual playful demeanor in full swing. "Yeah, especially when you whipped out that guitar solo, Luke! You had them eating out of the palm of your hand!"

Alex rolled his eyes, his sarcasm dripping like venom. "Oh yeah, because we all know how much Luke loves being the center of attention."

Luke chuckled, unfazed by Alex's barb. "Hey, someone's gotta be the face of the band, right?"

Alex shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Patterson."

Beneath the banter, there was an unspoken bond that tied them together-a bond forged through countless late-night jam sessions and the shared dream of making it big. Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude for the bandmates who had become like family to him. They may not always see eye to eye, but when it came down to it, they had each other's backs no matter what.

______________________

The boys gathered in the garage studio, the familiar scent of stale beer hanging heavy in the air. Reggie and Alex sat on the worn-out couch, their guitars resting against their knees, while Luke paced back and forth, his mind still buzzing from the adrenaline of the show.

"Man, that was crazy!" Reggie exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "Did you see the way the crowd went wild when you threw them your pick?"

Luke flashed him a grin, his chest swelling with pride. "Yeah, they were eating it up, weren't they? It's like they couldn't get enough of us."

Alex nodded in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, it's like we're unstoppable or something. We're gonna be selling out stadiums before you know it."

However amidst the excitement of the successful show, there was a noticeable absence-the absence of Julie, who was usually a fixture at their gigs. Reggie and Alex exchanged a knowing glance, silently communicating their concern.

"Hey, where's Julie?" Alex asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "She's usually always here to support us. I don't think I've ever seen her miss a show."

Luke's smile faltered slightly, a flicker of unease crossing his features. "Oh, she had some stuff to take care of tonight. Nothing important."

Reggie raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone. "Really? 'Cause it seems kinda strange for her to miss out on a show like this. You sure everything's okay?"

Luke shrugged, attempting to brush off their concern. "Yeah, everything's fine. She's probably just busy with school or something. You know how it is."

But Reggie and Alex weren't convinced. They knew how close Luke and Julie were, how they were practically inseparable both on and off stage. Something didn't add up, and they weren't about to let it slide.

"Come on, Luke," Reggie pressed, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can't expect us to believe that. You and Julie are practically joined at the hip. What's really going on?"

Luke's jaw tensed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Look, it's none of your business, okay? Julie probably had her reasons for not being here tonight, and that's all you need to know."

Reggie shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "When are you gonna drop the act like you don't like each other anyways? It's obvious to everyone that there's something more going on between you two."

Luke's annoyance flared into anger, his fists clenched at his sides. "I said it's none of your damn business, Reggie. So just drop it, okay?"

But Reggie and Alex weren't about to let it go. They knew that where there was smoke, there was fire, and they were determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on between Luke and Julie, even if it meant prying it out of him one painful word at a time.

__________________________________________

20 January, 2020 

Luke and Julie lay tangled together on the bed. Their bodies molded perfectly against each other, fitting like pieces of a puzzle as they sought comfort in each other's arms.

Julie nestled her head against Luke's chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She felt a sense of peace wash over her, a feeling of contentment that only came when she was wrapped up in his embrace.

Luke sighed contentedly, his arms wrapped protectively around Julie as he held her close. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

They lay there in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of their breathing as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence. It was a moment of pure bliss, a fleeting glimpse of happiness in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty.

Julie hesitated for a moment, her fingers tracing patterns on Luke's chest as she gathered her courage to speak. "Luke," she began, her voice soft but determined, "we need to talk."

Luke tensed at her words, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he braced himself for what was to come. He knew all too well what she wanted to discuss, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face it.

"About what?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he avoided her gaze, unable to meet her eyes.

Julie sighed, her expression tinged with frustration as she searched for the right words. "About us, Luke," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "About what's been going on between us."

Luke's heart clenched at her words, the fear and uncertainty rising like a tidal wave within him. He knew he couldn't keep avoiding the truth forever, but the thought of confronting his feelings for Julie filled him with a sense of overwhelming dread.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jules," he muttered, his voice barely audible as he turned away from her, unable to face the truth that lingered between them.

Julie's eyes filled with tears as she reached out to him, her hand trembling as she brushed his cheek gently. "Luke, please," she pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion. "We can't keep pretending like this anymore. I know you feel it too." Luke's heart ached at her words, the weight of his own denial pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth, to confess his love for her and lay bare his soul. 

Julie took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "I... I love being here with you, Luke. I love being able to be there for you, to comfort you when things get tough. And I always will," she said softly, her words tinged with emotion.

Luke's heart swelled with affection for her, his fingers gently stroking her hair as he listened intently.

"But," Julie continued, her voice trembling slightly, "if you can't commit to me, if you can't give me what I need... I need to put some distance between us."

Luke's heart sank at her words, the weight of them settling heavily on his chest. He knew deep down that he had been hurting her, that his inability to commit had been taking its toll on their relationship.

"I-I understand, Julie," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I-I never meant to hurt you. I just... I don't know if I can give you what you need."

Julie's eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him, her heart breaking with each word he spoke. "I know, Luke," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of their breathing. "And I-I don't blame you. But... but I can't keep doing this anymore. It's killing me to see you with someone else every week and then have you come back to me like this."

Luke's heart clenched at her words, the realization of what he had been putting her through hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had always known that he was hurting her, but hearing her say it out loud made it all too real.

"I'm so sorry, Julie," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he held her close, his arms aching with the need to protect her from the pain he had caused. "I-I don't know what to do."

Julie shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she buried her face in his chest, seeking solace in his embrace. "I don't either, Luke," she admitted, her voice muffled against his skin. "But... but I can't keep pretending like this anymore. I need to do what's best for me, even if it hurts."

Luke listened to Julie's words, his heart heavy with the weight of her pain. He knew he had pushed her away time and time again, too afraid to confront his own feelings and too blinded by his own fears to see the hurt he was causing her. And with that, they held each other in silence, their hearts heavy with the weight of their unspoken words. Even though neither of them said it, they both knew this would be the last time finding comfort in eachothers arms like this. 

_________________________________________

22 January, 2020 

Alex leaned forward, his expression serious as he met Luke's gaze. "We're just worried about you, man," he said quietly. "You've been acting kind of... off lately. And Julie's been MIA for the past couple of days. You two have a fight or something?"

Luke's jaw tensed, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He knew he couldn't tell them the truth, couldn't admit that Julie had walked away from him because he couldn't give her what she needed.

"We just... had some stuff to work out," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "It's nothing you guys need to worry about."

Reggie raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Come on, Luke," he pressed, his tone gentle but insistent. "You know you can talk to us, right? We're your bandmates, but more than that, we're your brothers. We just want to help."

Luke's chest tightened at Reggie's words, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a lead weight. He knew he should tell them the truth, should confide in them about what had happened between him and Julie. But the fear of exposing his vulnerabilities, of admitting that he had failed her, held him back.

"I appreciate the concern, guys," he said finally, his voice strained with emotion. "But I think I just need some time to sort things out on my own."

Reggie and Alex exchanged a glance, their concern evident in their eyes. But they knew better than to push him further. They had always respected Luke's boundaries, had always been there for him when he needed them. And even though they couldn't fix whatever was going on between him and Julie, they could offer him their support, their friendship, and their unwavering loyalty.

As Luke turned away, his thoughts drifting back to the night he and Julie had shared that intimate moment, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. It had been two nights since he had seen her, two nights since they had laid their hearts bare and faced the truth of their feelings. And in that time, she had been avoiding him, avoiding the pain of their relationship that would never be.

He had tried to reach out to her, had called and texted her countless times, but she had ignored his attempts at reconciliation, leaving him to wallow in his own guilt and self-pity. Luke's reasoning for being afraid of commitment stems from a deep-seated fear of losing Julie, the one constant in his tumultuous life. Despite his love for her, Luke has always struggled with maintaining romantic relationships, preferring the freedom and unpredictability of his rockstar lifestyle. For Luke, music is everything-it's his passion, his purpose, his escape from the chaos of his troubled home life.

Julie, however, occupies a unique space in Luke's heart. She's not just another girl he's infatuated with; she's his rock, his anchor, his best friend since childhood. They've weathered countless storms together, supporting each other through the darkest of times. From Julie's grief over losing her mother to Luke's own struggles with family turmoil, they've leaned on each other for strength and solace.

Luke can't imagine his life without Julie by his side. She's been there for him through thick and thin, offering unwavering loyalty and unconditional love. The thought of risking their friendship by pursuing a romantic relationship terrifies him, especially considering his track record of failed romances. Despite his intense feelings for Julie, Luke fears that committing to her romantically would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment. He's seen firsthand how relationships can crumble under the weight of expectation and responsibility, and he's not willing to risk losing Julie's friendship for a fleeting chance at love.

In Luke's eyes, Julie is worth more than any fleeting romance. She's his soulmate, his confidante, his everything. And while he longs to be with her in every sense of the word, he's paralyzed by the fear of ruining what they already have. So he continues to push her away, keeping her at arm's length to protect both their hearts from potential pain. However now, as he stood in the garage studio surrounded by his bandmates, he couldn't help but feel a sense of loneliness creeping in, a sense of emptiness that threatened to consume him whole.

But he couldn't let them see his pain, couldn't let them see the cracks in his facade. So he plastered on a fake smile, pushed down his emotions, and buried himself in the familiar rhythms of their music, hoping that one day, he would find a way to mend the broken pieces of his heart and make things right with the girl he loved.

____________________________________________________________

Let me know If you liked it and if you would like a second chapter!

[ellsfloriographyy]

past, present, and future.

chapter 1 <3

summary:

After the night of the Orpheum, Julie Molina found herself in a dizzying realization that she barely knew about the lives the phantoms had before they died. Of course, she heard stories occasionally, and the '90s impact never left their sides, despite the fact some of their references didn't stick with her. Yet they pushed through to let go of the past and focused on the future. Instead of Sunset Curve, their future was Julie and the Phantoms, and they couldn't be happier. Yet Julie wasn't. There's a particular grief she's experiencing, and she feels selfish for feeling it in the first place. But she grieves the lives they could have lived if they were alive today.

She understands that a massive weight remains on their shoulders. She wishes to help them alleviate some of that trauma as she did for Luke when speaking to Emily… But there's only so much she can do.

Past. Present. Future.

What could she do to make this second chance perfect? And would it be enough? Enough to make everything last?

She can't lose to the test of time. She won't allow it this time.

Chapter 1: entering the past <3

Frustrated.

It was the only word that came to mind for Julie Molina when describing her current mood. Frustration was the only thing she could pinpoint in the rollercoaster of emotions she was experiencing. At six in the morning to make matters worse, she couldn’t get more sleep even if she tried, so she opted to stay in bed for a while. Plus, her mind had already bolted her awake, and now she was in a bad mood. At least the sunrise was pretty.

It had been roughly over a week since the band’s performance at the Orpheum and well over a week since she almost lost the boys, yet despite all her fears, they were still there. She should be overjoyed; don’t get her wrong, she is! It’s a miracle that they remained, but it leaves another mystery for her to overthink. They may have broken Caleb’s curse, but he could still be lingering... Regardless, she could never have imagined being able to embrace them as she did that very night. The warmth, the presence, and the comfort they provided through touch were simply a daydream of hers. To have it come true made her heart skip a few beats, albeit Luke held her as if she meant everything to him. And a part of her believed it.

“No music is worth making, Julie, if we’re not making it with you.”

His words echoed in her head as she buried herself under the covers, her face heating up as she groaned into her hands. Luke and their “interesting little relationship” were another concern in her mind. Something had changed between them, but with all the chaos surrounding them, she hadn’t had a moment to talk to him, or rather, she had no clue how to bring it up to him… her almost alive but not crush. This past week, they were left with longing glances, shy smiles, and tension that even Reggie could notice. But it wasn’t the only thing killing her.

After the night of the Orpheum, Julie found herself in a dizzying realization that she barely knew about the lives the guys had before they died. Of course, she heard stories occasionally, and the ’90s impact never left their sides, despite the fact some of their references didn’t stick with her. Ultimately, they were still the same 17-year-olds as 25 years ago; all those years felt like nothing to them. Yet they pushed through to let go of the past and focused on the future. Instead of Sunset Curve, their future was Julie and the Phantoms, and they couldn’t be happier.

Yet Julie wasn’t. It didn’t stick right with her that they were practically caught up with her current life. The guys had begun catching up on music, trends, and even movies, even if they were still behind. They knew the latest gossip at school, the new vocabulary, and heck, with the new abilities they carried… It was even possible for other people to see them, too. Although Willie had advised them to play it safe and stay in the garage as things calmed down, they hadn’t tested that theory out yet. Regardless, she felt like a total asshole for not being more involved with their lives, or rather with the lives they had. They had put in so much effort to be in hers, and she adored it more than anything. They were her home, after all. (It was close second place with Flynn, but Carlos, Rose, and Ray always came first.) But she couldn’t help but wonder what they did in their free time, how hard it was at home, and how school was for them. Alex was most likely a fantastic student, Reggie was the class clown, and Luke could have made Sunset Curve the greatest accomplishment of their school. But she couldn’t have known, and she’ll never be able to experience it firsthand. That’s the part that kills her.

There’s a particular grief she’s experiencing, and she feels selfish for feeling it in the first place. But she grieves the lives they could have lived if they were alive today. She understands this new second chance is everything to them, but it’s unfair that their first chance was even ruined in the first place. She understands there’s a massive weight on their shoulders that remains. She wishes she could help them and alleviate some of that trauma. Like how she did for Luke when speaking to Emily… But there’s only so much she can do. That’s where her frustration comes in; she wishes she was more help, and she feels like an idiot for not doing much for them. They made her feel alive again; she could never repay that blessing.

She shuffles around in her bed as her mind wanders to Luke. She shakes the thought away as she sits up and looks out her window at the sunrise.

Past. Present. Future.

What could she do to make this second chance perfect? Was she doing the best she could? Were they happy? What if she loses them again? What if, after everything, she’d be back at square one, grieving and mourning? What could have been? She only snaps out of her spiral when a familiar blonde ghost knocks through her door.

“Julie?” She can almost laugh at how hesitant Alex sounds. He’s the only one so far who’s understood the word “boundaries,” and she appreciates how respectful he is when entering her space. The garage is left for the boys, but when it’s her room, it’s her space alone to breathe. He gets that.

“You can come in,” she coughs to clear her morning voice. She bets they’re the only ones awake right now. “Don’t judge too hard; I don’t look my best! I just woke up.”

He eventually walks in with a small smile, sporting his iconic pink hoodie, but he seems more reserved than usual. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you okay?” Julie automatically feels concerned as she looks at Alex. They share lingering eye contact before he looks away at the wall.

“No, yeah, uh, sorry. I just couldn’t sleep anymore. I was looking for some company. Would it be okay if I stayed here with you? Luke and Reggie are fast asleep, and I didn’t want to wake them up. You were the best option. I was just hoping you were awake–”

Before he continues explaining, she pats her bed, asking him to lie beside her. Alex eagerly follows, and his head rests on her lap. Julie can’t help but smile a little. After all the new contact, Alex seems to seek her affection the most. He’s still adjusting to the warm skin, eating again, sleeping again schedule. You know, the basics of life, and she’s happy she’s some comfort to him. But he’s still missing something, and she can only assume it’s the presence of a particular ghost. She hadn’t heard much about Willie, but it was so clear Alex was head over heels for him.

“You’re always welcome to stay here, Alex. You know that, right? And don’t worry; I’ve been up a bit and can’t sleep much either.”

“Yeah. Thank you, Julie.”

Julie smiles at their shared acknowledgment. A few minutes pass, and now she’s running her hands through his hair, humming a familiar tune, but he can’t pinpoint what it is. The silence is comfortable, but he breaks it with a question that leaves a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

“We’re in the same boat, aren’t we?”

She’s not stupid and knows what he’s implying, but it’s hard to admit they’re both stuck in a loop of longing and confusion. She plays with her curls as she sighs in response and nods.

“You gotta talk to him, Julie. I know he’s probably as hesitant as you. But Luke means everything he says, you know? He’s just... He has a hard time putting words into words other than lyrics. He can’t say it, but I promise you he cares.”

That’s her problem. Luke cares too much, and so does she.

What an interesting relationship they have.

Past, Present, Future.

Notes:

hii! my name is ell, i'm a new fanfic writer out here!! anyway, i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of past, present, and future <3 i apologize if its no good, but i hope to only improve as i continue to write! so i hope you stick around :D i wish it was a longer chapter but this is my test run HAHAHA, i hope u understand!

i truly do love this fandom, these couples, and this show so so much. :,) couldn't help myself, so i had to start writing too! i know we've def calmed down as a fandom, but i hope you guys are still here like me :)

i try to be as active as possible, and ill also try to update the moment i cannn! feel free to message me so we fangirl or fanboy together <3

thanks for entering my garden of love & admiration for this media !! ^^

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson Characters: Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina, others mentioned - Character Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Defining the Relationship, New Relationship, Trans Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms) Series: Part 8 of aspen st apartments, 4b Summary:

Without another word, he whips his hat off and slides into the booth across from her, popping a fry into his mouth.

Julie can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips. She puts her songbook away. “I guess you’re joining me, then?”

Luke freezes, another fry halfway to his lips. “I— don’t have to.”

“No! No, no, no, please,” Julie says quickly, blushing with shame at having teased him. “You know I always like your company.”

The trademarked Luke Grin returns, and he settles more comfortably into his seat, nodding toward the journal tucked into her purse at her side. “Whatcha been working on today? Anything good?”

“You’ll think so,” she guesses, because Luke thinks everything Julie writes is a masterpiece sent from Heaven. “I’m not so sure yet. But I don’t hate it.”

Luke points an expressive french fry at her. “That’s the first step in recognizing your awesomeness. Let me look at it sometime?”

Taglist:

@wr0temyway0ut

@phantomwriter95

@littlepetbee

@secondhand-sunlight

@ddaxnggirl

@trustworthytoast

@interestinglittlerelationship

Post

[legolasghosty]

Wedding Purrs

OKAY so @michelangelinden (my beloved fiance /p /lh) sent me this post and said WILLEX! And ya know what? He's right. And thus, here we are. Enjoy!

----

Alex takes in a deep breath, fumbling with the folded paper he’s had in his suit jacket pocket for the last couple of hours. He’s pretty sure today couldn’t get any better, and he knows it wouldn’t ruin it if he ripped the speech he’s been working on for months in half. However, his friends would tease him about it for decades if he messed up his vows at his own wedding.

He carefully unfolds it, his eyes darting between it and the beautiful person in front of him. “Willie Antonio Ortega-Covington,” he begins. “I don’t know what I can say to you today that I haven’t already said, but here goes.”

Willie stands barely a foot away, hands fidgeting with the gauzy blue train that fell like a cape around their shoulders, cheeks barely able to contain his smile. Alex wishes he could grab one of their hands, but with the paper in one hand and the mic in the other, that isn’t happening. Stupid vows.

“We’d be here all day if I tried to list out all the ways you’ve changed me for the better, so here’s the SparkNotes version,” Alex continues. “As my best friend, you helped me have the strength to be myself. You’re the reason I learned to paint and always check all the pockets of my jeans before we do laundry.”

Willie chuckles, biting their lip in a way that makes Alex want to skip to the end of the ceremony. But then he glances over Alex’s shoulder, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. Alex pauses and raises his eyebrows in question. If something is wrong, they’ll figure it out. Together. Behind his soon-to-be-spouse, Alex notices Julie looking around as well, a little more covertly. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what’s going on. Then Julie leans forward to whisper in Willie’s ear.

“There’s a cat,” she hisses, just loud enough for Alex to catch the words too.

“Where?” Willie responds, that flicker of mischief that Alex fell for in middle school appearing in their eyes.

Julie nods toward something past Alex and he can see the exact moment that Willie spies the feline.

“Sorry, I think we need to stop for a second,” Alex says into the mic, turning back to the guests sitting all over the massive lawn of Willie’s childhood home. Mansion. Whatever. “There’s a cat.”

That gets a peal of laughter from their assembled friends and family as Alex hands the microphone to Caleb, who gives him an amused smile. He tucks his vows back into his pocket as he turns to see a little tabby cat scampering across the grass towards them. He can’t resist letting out a little awww at the sight.

Willie had dropped into a crouch as soon as Alex stopped the wedding, so Alex joins him on the ground, attempting to not get grass stains on his light pink suit. The cat scurries closer, eyes fixed on the vines trailing all over the big, white arbor they’re now kneeling under. 

“Hi baby,” Willie murmurs, holding out a hand to the cat.

“Mrow,” the cat responds, its head turning to look at Willie curiously.

Alex holds out a hand too, entranced by the little animal. Caleb steps out of the way, chuckling lightly as he joins Julie and Reggie behind Willie.

“Where did you come from?” Willie asks under his breath.

The cat pads right up to sniff at Willie’s outstretched fingers, drawing an excited giggle from them. It must decide that he’s okay, because it starts headbutting his hand until Willie flips it over to scratch the side of its head.

“I think it likes you,” Alex comments softly, watching his almost-husband stroke the feline’s black and grey fur. 

Willie doesn’t turn to look at him, but they fumble around for his hand with the one that isn’t petting the cat and squeeze gently when their fingers lace together. Alex moves a little closer and moves his free hand closer to the cat. It immediately starts demanding pets from him too, giving a tiny meow of protest when Alex lifts his hand away.

“Think dad would murder me if I got cat hair on my top?” Willie asks.

“It’s your wedding,” Alex points out. “I love the guy but he can deal.”

“I heard that,” Caleb calls from a few steps behind them, clearly amused.

Willie’s cheeks darken a few shades as he lets go of Alex’s hand, first to flip his dad off over his shoulder, then to gently lift the small cat into his arms. Alex places his own hand on their elbow, helping them stand up without dropping the animal or tripping over the flowy fabric of their teal pants. Julie moves forward to adjust the train as well, but Alex is pretty sure it’s mainly an excuse to get a better look at the cat nestled in Willie’s embrace. Which-fair.

“I thought you guys were going to wait a while before looking at adopting a kid,” Luke snarks from behind Alex.

“Chill, it probably has a family around here,” Alex protests, as if he isn’t already trying to remember where the nearest pet store is to his and Willie’s apartment. 

“She’ll probably run away in a few,” Willie agreed a little sadly. “But it’s our wedding, let us live, Patterson.”

Luke starts to say something but gets cut off sharply by what Alex is pretty sure is Carrie smacking him. He doesn’t bother turning around. He’s too busy with his nearly-permanent partner and the way the cat has started purring in their arms.

“She?” he asks, scratching under the feline’s chin.

“Yep, checked when I picked her up,” Willie confirms.

“Wow, you’re just going to assume the cat’s pronouns?” Alex jokes.

Willie giggles and sticks his tongue out at him. Alex retaliates by leaning in to peck him lightly on the lips.

“I love you,” Willie murmurs when Alex pulls back.

“Hey, quit cutting ahead!” Reggie hollered, making everyone laugh.

“Good thing I already did my vows,” Willie says. “Pretty sure her purring would mess with the microphone.”

Sure enough, the cat seems to have no intention of moving from her cozy spot in Willie’s arms. She keeps headbutting his bare bicep whenever he pauses in his stroking for a moment.

“Darn, I still have to get through mine without crying,” Alex replies, giving the kitty one last scritch behind the ears before reaching for the crumpled paper.

“Well you can blame it on your fake cat allergies now if you do,” Willie teases.

“Leave my gaslighting mother out of this,” Alex retorts lightly. 

“Are we going to get this show back on the road or not?” Caleb interrupts as he returns to his place between them.

“Right, sorry,” Alex says, taking the microphone. He skims down the page in his hands before finding his place. “Sorry about that everyone,” he calls to the audience before continuing his vows.

The cat seems content to stay in Willie’s arms, even though both of the soon-to-be-weds cry during Alex’s vows. The stupid piece of paper is torn in a few places by the time he’s done, but Alex manages to make it all the way through. And suddenly Luke is tapping him on the shoulder and handing him a slender, titanium band.

Willie has to shift the cat a little bit to get his left hand free for Alex to slide the ring onto. Caleb reads out the first portion of the script they’d agreed on, but before Alex can echo the words, the feline is clambering out of Willie’s grasp, up his arm, and leaping across the space between them to land on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex lets out a gasp, startled by the weight, but leans forward slightly to give the cat more surface area to stand on. Among a myriad of reactions for their watching guests, the cat sits down primly, nuzzling Alex’s hair and sinking her claws into his shoulder. When Alex’s eyes return to his almost-legally-bound person’s face, he finds them grinning and holding back a laugh.

“Well, that solves that problem I guess,” Alex offers, resisting the urge to shrug.

“Only you, William,” Caleb mutters affectionately under his breath before continuing through the ring exchange.

The kitty stays on Alex’s shoulder all through the rest of the ceremony and purrs right in their ears when they kiss. Alex can’t help but laugh as he walks back down the aisle, Willie’s train rippling in the breeze behind them and their hands clasped together. Thank goodness they did all their pictures before the wedding so they get to go straight into the house for the reception.

“Think I should ditch the train for the reception?” Willie muses once they get back to his old bedroom, where they’d gotten ready that morning. “I mean it’s fun and all, but it’s gonna get tangled on something with all the tables and stuff.”

“That is entirely your call,” Alex answers, leaning in to kiss him again just because he can. “But I’ll help you either way.”

“That is both adorable and entirely unhelpful,” Willie teases, glancing at the full length mirror hanging on the back of the door.

The cat chooses that moment to launch herself off of Alex’s shoulder and onto Willie’s bed, then to the floor. She glances around, then lowers into a crouch and starts stalking toward the gauzy fabric that brushes over the floor.

“I think that’s probably a sign to take it off,” Willie decides, laughing.

Alex is pretty sure his chest is going to explode with how happy he is, but he just nods and helps Willie unhook the clasps at their shoulders and fold the cape-like garment back into the box. The cat loses interest in it after a minute and starts poking around in the closet. 

When everything is straightened and put away, Willie grabs the lapels of Alex’s suit jacket and pulls him close.

“We got married,” they comment softly.

“Yep,” Alex says, the words coming out soft and breathy. “We sure-yeah-we did that.”

Willie giggles and erases the air between them to connect their mouths. Alex wraps one arm around their waist, loving how the cropped top piece of Willie’s outfit lets him run his fingers over warm brown skin, and cups the back of their head with the other. Willie hums and deepens the kiss, easing into Alex’s mouth as their hands trace up his chest to rest on his jaw. Alex lets himself fall, lose himself in kissing his person - his husband - without a spare thought for the people waiting for them on the patio.

Alex eases his fingers up into Willie’s hair, getting a pleased gasp in return. He breaks the kiss for less than a second, tilting his head to get a better angle as they reconnect like a pair of magnets. Willie lets him into his mouth happily, his tongue following Alex’s as it brushes along the line of his teeth. Alex doesn’t protest when Willie’s hands slide down his neck and under his jacket, removing his arm temporarily from around their waist so they can shove the thing off. He’s been sweating in it for over an hour anyways. Willie’s fingers undo the top buttons of his shirt to trace over the curve of Alex’s collarbones. Alex shivers and pulls Willie as close as he can, loathe to allow even a breath of space between their bodies.

“Meow,” the cat protests.

Alex laughs against Willie’s lips and pulls away just enough to see the little kitty pawing at the bedroom door. “I think she got bored of us,” he jokes.

“That’s just homophobic,” Willie returns, smirking. “And on our wedding day too.”

“We should probably go, shouldn’t we,” Alex sighs.

Willie lets out a little huff and presses one more kiss to Alex’s lips. “Yeah probably.”

“Alright, nameless cat, you win,” Alex accepts, shaking his head.

“We should get her to a vet to get checked for a chip and stuff,” Willie comments as they leave the bedroom, the kitty bounding ahead.

“If she sticks around, yeah,” Alex says. “We should ask Julie where she takes Beto.”

Willie nods in agreement as they enter the dining room area, the french doors thrown open to connect the space with the patio to accommodate everyone. Their friends and family are gathered around the area, chatting and drinking sparkling cider and soda out of Caleb’s crystal champagne flutes. Julie and Reggie spot them first and start clapping. Alex is sure his face is turning red as the applause grows and someone (probably Luke) wolf whistles. 

The reception dissolves into a mess of thank yous and well wishes as Alex and Willie try to make the rounds and talk to everyone. Alex catches glimpses of the cat every now and then, ducking under tables and weaving between legs and skirts, always looking excited and curious.

By the time Alex and Willie manage to sit down to eat during the toasts, his feet are starting to ache in his dress shoes and his cheeks are sore from smiling so much. Willie smirks and leans back in his chair, throwing an arm easily around the back of Alex’s as Julie starts giving her toast. Alex scoots his seat a little closer and rests his head on their shoulder as they listen to their family, legal or otherwise, congratulate them. (And tell embarrassing stories because that’s what family is for, right?)

Between toasts, they feed each other bites of chicken and roasted potato. Willie misses one time and smears oil across Alex’s cheek and it takes nearly a minute for them both to stop laughing. While Ray is talking, Alex feels a bump against his leg. He glances down to see the cat staring up at him. He grins and leans back a bit as it jumps up onto his lap. The next bite of chicken Willie spears on their fork goes to the cat’s mouth instead of Alex’s.

The cat has deserted them once more by the time they get dragged over to cut the chocolate strawberry wedding cake Tia Victoria made for them. Alex accidentally gets his revenge on Willie for the potato and paints chocolate icing on their nose. The smirk they both get from Ray afterwards says he definitely caught that one on film. 

They dance around the patio to Lover and Galaxies, twirling each other and sharing conversations too soft for anyone else to hear. Alex watches happily when Caleb steals his spouse away for a song. Then Julie drags him back onto the floor and Carrie is teasing him about losing his jacket and Reggie is teaching him square dance steps for the millionth time. And all the while, a tabby streak is darting through each soft moment, stealing bites of food and charming basically everyone.

And finally, Ray goes outside to pull the car around for them. Willie grabs Alex’s hand and people start cracking glowsticks as the sun vanishes over the horizon and they leave the wedding together.

“Wow,” Willie murmurs as Alex pulls the car out of the driveway.

“Yep,” Alex agrees, squeezing their hand.

“Meow,” says the cat from the backseat, startling them both.

Alex slams on the brakes (there’s a stop sign okay!) and they both turn to look back at the curious stowaway.

“Well…” Alex begins slowly.

“I’ll text Julie for her vet’s name,” Willie finishes, grinning.

[interestinglittlerelationship]

Parachute by John K

[littlemissaddict]

Hi!! I don't know if you still have your request list open but I really would like you to write luke Patterson x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish. So reader is sick and luke take karę of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you bye

Also feel free to ignore me if you want to byeeeee

Hello!!! My request list is always open and although I don't really write for any jatp characters anymore here's a little something, I'm sorry it's only short and sweet. Also don't worry your English is great :)

"Luke" you moan, voice hoarse from the soreness of your throat, "I'm gonna die" you pout up at him with wide innocent eyes that lack their usual shine but even still you're full of playful dramatics.

"You are not gonna die" Luke rolls his eyes as he answers but the fondness that swirls within them whenever he looks at you never falters even though you claim you're dying when it's only a cold. "Here drink this, it'll help soothe your throat" he offers, handing you the mug of hot water, lemon and honey.

You take it from him, puffing out an exaggerated breath of air in attempts to cool the hot drink so that you don't burn your mouth on it and Luke can’t help but chuckle at your childish antics. “Don’t laugh at me I’m sick” you sniff, nose beginning to run as you look around for some tissue though Luke seems to know as he grabs the box from your nightstand and holds it within your reach and you thank him with a smile.

Once you’ve drank your drink you have to admit that your throat does feel a lot better, for now anyway. As you pass Luke the mug to put back on your nightstand you lie back against the mountain of pillows that you seem to have made in an effort to keep yourself propped up so that your not coughing every two seconds. Adjusting your covers so that you don’t feel the cold that you were complaining about earlier, Luke moves to sit next to you on the bed, his back against the headboard seeing as you have all the pillows but even still you find yourself dropping your head to rest against his shoulder as the sudden need to be closer to him fills your body.

“You needing cuddles now?” he asks, voice soft as he feels you nod against him in answer to his question. Allowing him to guide your body so that he can get you in a position that’s going to be more comfortable for you so you don’t end up with a crick in your neck, you let him slide an arm behind your back as he encourages you to cuddle closer into him and you hum contentedly as you relax.

It’s not long before you find your eyelids growing heavy whether it be the combination of the hot drink and Luke’s body warmth lulling you into a slumber or just your lack of sleep from the night before but whatever it is he seems to notice. Feeling his hand come up to run through your hair, you can’t help but let your eyelids flutter closed as you let him soothe you further but then when he quietly starts humming a tune you vaguely know is when you know the sleepiness filling your body is inevitable and that you’ll succumb to it sooner than you thought.

And you do, wrapped in his arms as he softly lulls you into a peaceful sleep is the moment that it cements in your mind that you never want to lose the loving boy you’re lucky to call yours.

[g1rld1ary]

new release ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you'd been playing julie and the phantom's new album on repeat all day before luke comes knocking on your door, and you end up going to dinner with your favourite band

➻ word count: 2515

➻ content: she/her pronouns for reader

➻ wrote this on a whim tonight so enjoy my first luke fic lol !!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You tapped your fingers impatiently against your desk, willing Spotify to reload quicker, visualising the album you knew was dropping in two minutes. Finally, after 120 seconds that could have been an hour, Julie and the Phantom’s new album was out and available, and you actually might’ve been the first person to listen to it.

You’d been following Julie and the Phantoms since their very first performance was put on YouTube. Admittedly you’d been hopping on the bandwagon — your friends had been raving about it at school and force-fed you their songs, but you’d been genuinely addicted to their music ever since.

Pressing play on the new album you got up, leaving it to play as you began on your errands for the day. You danced around your apartment, putting away the washing and vacuuming and humming along to the singles that had already been released.

Luke was on his way home from his morning run when he could have sworn he could hear his own voice. Stopping, he pulled an earbud out of his ear, looking around for the source of the music. And there, on the third floor, was you. You were out on the balcony, organising the cute set of outdoor furniture you’d shoved in there and dancing ridiculously to Luke’s personal favourite song of the album. He let out a quiet laugh to himself, admiring the carefree way you jumped around, miming the chorus you’d learnt into a can of what appeared to be bug spray. He smiled once more before heading into the building, musing about the odds of having a Phantoms fan live on his floor.

Back up in his apartment he could still hear the music, both your open windows making it sound clear despite not being obnoxiously loud. Luke just shook his head, heading straight to the shower and turning on his own music so he didn’t have to be victim to his own voice all day.

An hour later, you were still listening. You’d just finished the album and evidently wanted to commit it to memory before the day was through. Luke thought it was adorable, and he could feel the gratitude flowing through every inch of him. This was why he wrote music, to resonate with people and make them happy. Plus, now that he knew the cute girl who’d just moved into the apartment opposite him liked his band, he figured he could build up some confidence to talk to you.

Morning turned to afternoon, and you were still playing his album. Luke was flattered, but in slight disbelief. He couldn’t believe you weren’t sick of it yet, though he supposed you didn’t get the same ick he did when listening to his voice. Hearing you learning the words was another bonus, your voice floating in through his kitchen window as he cooked. He thought it was lovely, though far from professional. It was an unreal experience hearing your disembodied voice stumbling through the lyrics, making up ones you’d evidently misheard and improvising your own riffs on top of Julie’s.

Luke wondered whether it was possible to develop a crush on someone based on just their voice. Yeah he thought you were cute the few times he’d seen you coming or going through his street facing window, but your laughter when your voice cracked had him weak in the knees.

When you were still playing his music by four o’clock — you’d branched out to mixing in the rest of their discography by then — he was a little worried for your sanity. Flattered and grateful for the streams, but concerned all the same. At the same time he was worried for himself. He’d offered to host his band and friends for a private celebration of the album release after the official party the night previous, and he thought it may be a little on the nose if you were still streaming their music into the night. He could already hear Alex making fun of him for living next to a fangirl (he did secretly hope you were a fangirl of him though).

So, whilst it wasn’t exactly the meet-cute he’d hoped for, Luke found himself knocking on your door. He knocked again shyly when he heard you turn down the volume, clearly trying to see if you’d heard right. A few soft footsteps on the other side of the door and it was cracking open, your curious expression greeting him. You’d only just moved in and didn’t know anyone to be visiting.

Luke watched you go through the seven stages of grief in real time. Confusion at an unexpected visitor, recognition of him, and then a million shades of humiliation as you realised you’d been listening to his music all day and he could hear. God, you probably looked like an obsessed fangirl (you were, but you didn’t want Luke Patterson to know that). With an embarrassed sound coming from the back of your throat, you asked Luke to give you twenty seconds of privacy. He agreed politely and you shut the door quickly. Slapping a hand to your mouth, you let out a silent scream, trying to let out all your anxious, embarrassed energy as quickly as possible, shaking your limbs about so you could stand still when you inevitably had to grovel for forgiveness to Luke.

Reopening your door, you were taken aback by how at ease Luke looked. And how much hotter he was in person, but you tried to push that thought to the back of your head for the sake of coherent conversation.

“Hi,” You said, resisting the urge to ramble out apologies.

“Hi,” He replied with that stupidly charming grin he wore in all his publicity shoots. “I’m Luke.”

“I know.” Fuck, you didn’t mean to say that. “Um, obviously. I’m sure you’ve heard all the…” You gestured inside to your apartment where his album was still playing quietly. You should’ve turned it off.

“Please don’t be embarrassed, it’s really cute.” Now your blush was for a totally different reason, your favourite singer was calling you cute? You had to be dreaming.

“Is there something I can do for you?” You asked, still unsure of the purpose of the visit, though you weren’t complaining.

“Oh!” Luke looked as if he really had forgotten why he’d come, but covered himself with an easy laugh, “I was just wondering if you could turn down your music a bit? It’s not too loud or anything, it’s not bothering me! It’s just, I’m having the band over tonight and as much as we’re all proud of the album, it feels a bit conceited to have it playing as we hang out privately, y’know?” You were nodding vigorously before he could finish his sentence, spilling out apologies for even playing it in the first place.

“Seriously don’t apologise,” He assured you, catching your eye in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t look away (not that you would’ve wanted to), “I really appreciate you being a fan and supporting us.” In that moment, entranced in his deep honey eyes, you honestly would have done whatever Luke Patterson asked of you, you were completely his. Maybe your parasocial relationships needed some examining.

Forcing yourself to end the moment despite your internal desires, you averted your eyes to the floor and Luke coughed slightly, both of you somewhat dazed.

“Right, well, it was really nice meeting you. Big fan. Guess I’ll see you around?” You said awkwardly, stepping back inside the threshold of your flat. Luke nodded in the same manner, and you were about to shut the door when he called for you to wait.

“Do you wanna come over later? You can meet the band, and it’s always helpful to make some friends in the building. I, uh, know you’re new here.” You nodded, more than surprised, but you sure as hell weren’t gonna turn down this opportunity.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks.” Luke named a time and you parted ways, neither of you catching the backwards glances you both chanced.

Inside your apartment was a whirlwind of stress. What did you wear for a dinner with your favourite band with an hour’s notice? You might’ve actually tried on half your wardrobe before deciding on your favourite jeans (maybe the ones that made your ass look impeccable, but who’s to say?) and a simple top. It wasn’t the most exciting outfit you could have come up with, not by a long shot, but you didn’t want to make a single wrong decision tonight. All you needed to do was be completely perfect and impress Julie and the Phantoms and maybe get Luke to like you back. Easy stuff.

By the time you were meant to be going you’d managed to do your makeup in a way that didn’t make you want to cry — why did it always turn out awful when you needed it to be good? Slipping your favourite hoops into your ears you were ready, and gave yourself a quick pep talk in the bathroom mirror. You’d never been one for those self-love affirmations, but they couldn’t hurt, right?

When Luke opened the door and his face broke into one of those smiles that lit up the building’s corridor, your nerves quieted themselves somewhat. He swept you under one of his arms leading you further into the apartment as if you’d been friends for years. You tried to take in what you could, and were a little jealous of how nicely his place was decorated — yours was still loaded with boxes and junk.

“Guys, meet my new friend!” Luke announced, and all the heads in the room snapped towards you.

“Um, hi,” You said meekly, remembering to tell them all your name.

“She’s new to the building and I thought it would be nice for her to make some friends!” You smiled internally — Luke had the same personality as in all the interviews you watched, which made you glad. You didn’t know what you would do if he wasn’t all that you imagined.

The night started out a little awkward, at least for you. You were so stressed about making a good impression that you felt a little robotic, answers calculated to try and get the most amount of laughs or agreements. Luke noticed this and gestured for you to take the seat between him and Julie when the meal was served, figuring you’d have the most in common with her, and he was more than happy to talk your ear off if the opportunity arose.

“So, why’d you come to California?” Julie asked, and you explained that you’d moved for school, but it was cheaper to rent the flat than live in the dorms. That in itself was an easy avenue into talking about your roommate who was never around and the classes you were taking this semester. When you asked about Nick, who was sitting on Julie’s other side, he happily joined the conversation to talk about how they got together just after the Phantoms began to get world famous and their (first) show at the Orpheum.

The dinner was loud and messy, and you began to feel right at home. With Reggie flicking beans at Alex, and Luke’s boisterous laughter ringing over conversation, there was a familial ambience to it all.

After the meal the group migrated towards the TV, and you found yourself next to Luke again, sandwiched between him and Willie, who introduced himself as Alex’s boyfriend. You recognised him from Alex’s Instagram, but you left that fact out. You found yourself making easy conversation with them, being the four who got Luke’s couch, whilst the others made themselves at home in armchairs and other seats scavenged from around the flat.

As you spoke to the couple about a restaurant in LA they were recommending, you felt a hand land on your thigh. A glance in his direction showed it was Luke’s, of course, but if his expression was anything to go by he was all but unaware, still speaking passionately to Nick about something. You tried to conceal your blush as your turned back to the gays, but the knowing looks had you hiding your face in your hands.

A movie was turned on and the chatter dulled somewhat, turned down to whispers over the dialogue. You didn’t know how you’d ended up cuddled up into Luke’s side, but you were absolutely not complaining. His arm on the back of the sofa had migrated to sitting around your waist at one point, and you were really hoping he couldn’t feel your racing heartbeat. An accidental glance in Julie’s direction showed her and Nick wiggling their eyebrows suggestively, to which you simply made a bewildered expression, hoping it conveyed how little idea you had of what was going on. Unbeknownst to you, Luke was fighting the same losing battle with the rest of the boys, who were making childish kissy faces when you weren’t looking. Luke handled it better than you, merely shrugging as if to say ‘she’s cute — what do you want me to do?’

A few hours later and the night was winding down. You took your leave after Reggie, not wanting to risk overstaying your welcome and jeopardising the friendships you hoped you were making. The remaining guests all gave you warm goodbyes, begging for you to come back again. Julie even swept you into a tight hug, making you promise you’d DM her to go out for coffee soon. Luke walked you to the door, a gentle hand on the small of your back not going unnoticed by his friends.

“Thanks for coming tonight, I’m really glad we met,” He said, and his shyer tone caught you off guard, but made you smile nonetheless.

“Thank you for inviting me,” You countered, “It was really sweet of you to introduce me to all your friends.” Luke waved it off like it was nothing, which you were sure to him it was.

“Can I see you again soon?” He asked, suddenly looking remarkably like a little puppy.

“I’m only a door away,” You grinned, “You can see me whenever you like. Hey, congrats again on the album. I’d say it’s pretty good.” When you pressed a kiss to his cheek and bade him goodnight, Luke couldn’t have resisted his cheesy grin if he’d tried.

“I love being a rockstar,” He said when he returned to his friends.

“Shut up, man,” Replied Alex, “You’re too whipped to claim any rockstar benefits on this one.”

[genuine-possum]

Commissions for fanfic oneshots!

Hi! I'm Jynx and my commissions for fanfics and oneshots are open! I will write you a oneshot for the fandom of your choosing, with whichever characters you like and even your OCs!

Your oneshot can be anything from alternate universes to epilogues and CODAs to character inserts! Including any tropes you'd like! From as little as 100 words to as many as 8k!

Here is a link to my Fiverr!

[onlygenxhere]

This Friday’s featured fic is My Thoughts are Ever Winding Home by SeaStarStories. It’s a cute and funny little fic about an older Julie and Luke house hunting.

They both have some hard Nos about what they want and don't want.

[peachiejeongin]

The Phantoms Part 3: Bright | Bang Chan

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here) | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Synopsis: With a regained passion for music, y/n decides to take it upon herself to get back into her high school's music program. Of course, she needs a little help from a certain three phantoms...

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader (Reader takes the place of Julie Molina from Julie and the Phantoms) [Occurs somewhat in this chapter]

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Grief of a lost parent, slight mentions of negative home lives, slight mentions of homophobia

Notice: Hello, my loves! I have been feeling a bit ill the past couple of days, but I still want to update this story as much as possible :) I want to go ahead and preface that in this chapter, there is mention of Han being gay since he takes the place of Alex in the original show. I would like to follow this up by stating I do not actually believe Han is gay in real life; I do not know Stray Kids personally, therefore I do not know their sexual orientations. I wanted to get that out of the way so there was no confusion! Additionally, like the other chapters, I hold no rights to 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor any of its characters! Enjoy part three! Fair warning, it is LONG lol!

You clutched the song in your arms, holding it in a tight embrace as if it could escape you at any moment. Tears fell down your face as your saddened gaze shut tightly. In the aftermath of your powerful performance, you felt a swirl of emotions, including pride, grief and even a twinge of haze.

Despite the confusing plethora of moods, one thought stood out in your mind: you had rediscovered your love for music, the hobby that made your soul sing, and with it, you had found pieces of yourself you thought had passed on with your mother.

You were unaware of the presence of Chan, Han, and Changbin stood behind you, their expressions flickering between sympathy, awe, and uncertainty. As Chan had stated prior, the song was a demonstration of your mother's extraordinary talent in songwriting, and they were absolutely mesmerized at how effortlessly you had performed the ballad; however, admist their admiration,the boys remained confused about one lingering aspect.

Why did you lie?

In spite of telling them you did not play the piano, the melody they witnessed moments earlier significantly debunked your claim. They were perplexed as to why you would feel the need to fabricate your talent.

Those thoughts were immediately pushed aside when the boys heard you lightly sobbing; they felt their hearts twinge at the soft noise, their expressions softening into ones of condolence.

Han instinctually stepped forward to give you a hug, forgetting both that he could not make physical contact with you and that you did not know that he was behind you; however, Chan grabbed onto his shoulder to stop him, shaking his head as if to say, "Don't." Chan shot a glance at Changbin before moving his finger around in a circle, symboling for them to make their leave.

The three warped outside of the garage, Han immediately making his way over to Chan. The sun was fully beaming over the earth, its translucent rays highlighting the band; there was a freshness in the air, which conflicted with the rigidity of Han's footsteps.

"Dude, why'd you stop me?" Han asked the older boy, befuddlement wrapping around his demeanor. "Y/n needed a hug!"

"Bro, a ghost hug isn't the feel-good moment that you think it is," Chan responded, adjusting the hem of his blue, sleeveless jacket; his tone was understanding yet firm. "Trust me. What she needs right now is just a bit of privacy." Han clicked his tongue, his gaze hardening slightly.

"You know, I think you poofed us out because you can't handle when other people cry," Han retaliated in a surprisingly stern tone of voice, causing Chan to widen his eyes in shock. "I should know. I cried in a room for 29 years, and I didn't get a single hug from either of you!" His dialogue had now shifted towards both Chan and Changbin as he motioned his pointer finger between the two guys, his voice breaking as he complained. The vicinity was silent, almost tense for a moment, broken only by Changbin releasing a sympathetic sigh.

"Alright, bring it in," Changbin spoke softly as he opened his arms to embrace the younger male; however, Han quickly threw a back-hand up in protest.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled. Changbin stepped back, the gentle beam fading from his features as he slowly lowered his arms.

"This is why no one hugs you!" he mumbled aggravatedly to Han, eliciting a quiet yet frustrated sigh from the latter.

"O...kay," Chan commented, extremely bewildered at what had just happened. "Look, I think the first thing we should do, once we get the courage to go in there is ask y/n..." Chan paused to look back at the garage, letting out a perplexed breath, "why she lied about playing the piano."

"Yeah," Han agreed. "Maybe tell her how amazing she is," he added onto Chan's proposition, earning an, "of course!" from the Australian.

"She's legit!" Changbin exclaimed. "I got ghost bumps." Changbin rubbed his arms in order to harp upon his play on words. Suddenly, the soft creek of the gate echoed behind them, followed by the sound of quiet sobs. Flynn appeared, her steps unhurriedly striding and her head hung in sorrow. The boys' gazes snapped to her as she entered the studio, their expressions morphing from surprise to concern then forming into panic.

"Was she crying, too?" Han asked meekly.

"Yes!" Chan threw his hands down anxiously, and he dragged out the affirming word alarmingly. "And the only thing worse than one girl crying is two girls crying!" He held up the respective amount of fingers for both numbers he enunciated upon; his voice was laced with dismay.

"He's right," Han told Changbin in the audibility of a whisper.

"Guys, we definitely can't go in there now!" Chan's voice came out in a panicked rush, his usual composure cracking.

"But!" Changbin suddenly perked his head up, a light-bulb brightening in his head. "We can listen." The three guys nodded and made their way over to the garage doors, Han giving Changbin a pat on the back for his clever idea. The three heads peered into the thin windows of the studio and listened in on the girls' conversation.

"Your dad said you'd be out here," Flynn got your attention, her hands shoved in the pockets of her black jacket. You flicked your head upwards to face her, which caused Chan, Changbin, and Han to duck down out of view; they could not see the two of you anymore, but they could still hear you.

"We need to talk," she bluntly continued as she approached the piano.

"Are you okay?" you asked while readjusting your sheet music so it leaned neatly against the front of the sleek, wooden instrument.. Flynn shut her eyes tight in response, an expression of dejection etched onto her face.

"No, I'm not okay!" she shrieked out. "You just got kicked out of the music program!" Her words were full of sorrow, yet they had a hyper undertone. "I've been up all night thinking about what I was going to say! I may have drank seven sodas in the process, but I need to get this out."

That explained the hyperactivity.

"Wait, I have something to tell you." You threw your hands on top of each other in a criss-cross fashion, your fingers brushing lightly against the sleek wood of the piano; you were anxious to tell her both about 3RACHA and about your consolidation in your music.

"No, it's my turn to talk," Flynn stressfully interjected. "You can't give up music! Your music is a gift, and wasting your talent would be a tragedy! You're basically cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas!"

"Flynn, I-"

"Nuh uh!"

You pressed your lips closed, your eyes having a glint of humor within them as your best friend continued her caffienated ramble.

"When we were six, we promied to be in a band together! Double Trouble!"

"I never agreed to that name," you breathily countered, causing Flynn to roll her eyes and come around to your side of the piano.

"That's not the point! Y/n, if you leave the music program, we'll be apart forever!" Flynn's hands waved in front of her, accentuating her words as they shifted around nervously yet matter-of-factly. "That's just what happens! Sure, we'll see each other in the halls sometimes, but..." Flynn halted her words to let out a deep exhale and shake her head, "we'll have different lives! Make new friends!"

"That's not true," you reassured Flynn with a tone of soft certainty. Flynn pursed her lips together.

"You're right," she agreed, and you felt relieved. However, the ease only lasted for a moment, before she continued. "I won't be making any new friends! And the only time we'll contact each other is when we like each other's social media posts! Everytime I tap on that digital heart," Flynn's eyes began to lightly well up with tears, "my real heart will be breaking because my best friend left me and...ugh, do you have any soda? My head hurts." She clutched a hand over her forehead, bringing attention to her point as you tilted your head.

"Can I talk now?" you asked calmly in contrast to the girl's hyper demeanor. She dropped her hand down and sighed.

"Fine."

"I just played the piano and sang again," you explained, making her glance towards the piano then back at you.

"What?! Why didn't you just say so?!" Her tone had shifted from the previous depression to a present joy.

"I was trying before your seven sodas kicked in!" you teased, using your hand to motion up and down towards her. Flynn looked as if she was about to cry, scream, or alternate between the two out of joy.

"I'm so happy for you!" She grabbed your shoulders and shook you excitedly. "And me!" You giggled at your best friends words as she released you in order to move her hands down in victory.

"Look at you," she remarked, her tone lowering by several octaves, "looking all, I don't know, alive again?!"

Flynn carried an unshakable sense of pride within her heart for you; after all, the two of you had been inseparable since elementary school, and she had been the first to notice the cracks forming in your spirit after your mom passed away, watching helplessly as you began to drift away from the character she knew and loved. Thus, she could not be more pumped that you were back to normal; it was like she was meeting her best friend all over again.

"Right?!" you concurred happily. "It's like I drank seven sodas!" You pointed to yourself, your comment making her smile brightly; the holly was brief, Flynn's expression turning into one of intrigue.

"What made you decide to play again?" she asked, originating a solemn yet serene expression from your end. You grabbed the sheet music you had arranged as she arrived and slid it towards her.

"I found this song my mom wrote me." Flynn took the plethora of papers, skimming over the lyrics; reading the song alone made her own heart twinge.

"Woah," was all she could muster.

"I know," you replied in a low voice. "I was so scared to play it. Anything involving music reminds me of her." You glanced up from the keys to look at Flynn, a bright manner overtaking your dignified stance. "Then I woke up this morning, realizing that's exactly why I should play it. To keep her memory alive."

"Awe, bring it in!" Flynn opened her arms, hugging you tightly. The moment only lasted for a few seconds, however, as Flynn quickly jerked away while gasping.

"We need to tell Mrs. Jeon you can play so you can stay in school, and my life won't be that sad picture I just painted for you!" She took your hands in hers, smiling fondly. "My girl is back! Double Trouble lives on!" She held her hand up in a fist, turning around as if she was a superstar on the red carpet.

"Not our band name!" you reminded her as you went to grab your backpack from the corner of the studio.

"I gave you a t-shirt in seventh grade that says otherwise!" Flynn retaliated as she followed after you. As the two of you made your way out of the garage, the 3RACHA boys began to panic; they quickly scrambled into positions that made it look as if they had not just been listening to every detail of the conversation. Han propped his arm on the ledge beside of the door and began to fiddle with the lightbox, Chan put an arm behind his head and whistled at the wind, and Changbin sat down on the ground crossing his legs and looking downwards.

"Oh, hey!" you greeted them as you walked out of the studio; you caught Chan's attention first, the latter nodding in a 'sup motion. The action was miniscule, yet it made your heart flutter. The other two flashed brief, guilty smiles towards you. On the other hand, Flynn turned around as if you had called her attention; you had forgotten she could not see the boys.

"Hey! Let's hustle," you quickly covered your tracks, making it seem as if you were talking to her and not not the invisible band. "Don't wanna be late!" You ran to link arms with Flynn, waving goodbye to the boys and them reciprocating the actions.

"Bye, y/n!" Changbin yelled. "Have a great day that we have no idea what's going to happen in because we weren't listening!" Chan's eyes narrowed as he landed a kick to Changbin's leg; your eyes furrowed at the action, but they quickly relaxed as Chan gave you another toothy grin, your cheeks going red at the action.

This dynamic was going to be strange. You could feel it.

Chan's eyes lingered upon you as you walked away, his heart feeling a weird type of twinge within; it was not negative by any means, but he did not understand it.

"Guys, weird question," Changbin began as you had vanished from their line of sight. "Can we uh, can we go see my family?"

"What?" Chan's head motioned backwards, his eyes still fixated on where you had once been.

"My family," Changbin repeated. "Can we go see them? Y'know, just check in on them?"

"Yeah, man, of course," Chan replied as he, Changbin, and Han transported themselves to Changbin's family home.

Or so they thought.

---

"Believe me, y/n, I think it's wonderful that you're singing again." You and Flynn stood awkwardly as your teacher spoke; you had decided that you would ask her if there was a chance at getting back into the music program.

"I always hoped the day would come when you would get back into music," she continued as she set up a composition on the piano. "I'm afraid it's too late, though. You knew the deal."

"Please, Mrs. Jeon, just listen to her play!" Flynn pleaded with her on your behalf. "You know y/n is amazing when she plays! That's gotta count for something!"

"I wish it did," the older woman spoke with regret in her voice. "There's a new student set to take your spot tomorrow." Upon this realization, you nodded your head sorrowfully, looking up at the ceiling in attempts not to cry.

"You know there's only-"

"So many spots," you finished the motto of the program for her as she nodded in agreement. "If I don't play, I don't stay. I know." Mrs. Jeon approached you, taking her glasses off before talking.

"I tried, y/n," she confessed, nearly on the brink of tears. "I fought tooth and nail to keep you in this program. I can't change the director's mind. Yesterday was your last chance. Your only option from here is to reapply next school year." You looked down at the ground, feeling silly at pushing your passions to the side and letting your fear overtake you. At that moment, the bell rang to dismiss class; your teacher gave you one final glance as you walked away.

"I'm truly sorry, y/n."

---

"A bike shack right where my house used to be." Changbin stood dejected, Chan resting his arm on the former's shoulder and Han staring longingly at the sandy ground. The three had teleported on the beachside where Changbin used to live; lively residents played volleyball and swam in the background as the unseen bandmates stood sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry man," Chan apologized as Changbin's eyes welled up, patting the latter's chest.

"They made the Yangs' house into a restaurant," Changbin commented, pointing to the aforementioned diner. "Why couldn't they have made mine a pizzeria or something?"

"They tore down the whole neighborhood," Han had looked up from the ground, motioning to the entire empty lot; when they were kids, the bayside was filled with life. Houses lotted every corner, a park stood in the centerfold for the kids, and multiple small businesses were scattered around the empty spaces.

It was all gone, just as they were.

"I guess that means my parents are gone," Changbin sighed.

"Everyone's gone," Han responded as Changbin turned to face him. "Twenty-nine years gone like that," Han snapped to emphasize. "Our parents, our friends, Hyunjin, everyone!"

"Hyunjin, that's right," Changbin thought of their rhythm guitarist for the first time since they had rematerialized. "I guess he got lucky. What ever happened to him?"

"He probably aged like everyone else and moved on," Chan stated matter-of-factly while kicking his feet at the ground; he had moved from standing beside Changbin to sitting on a park bench across from his two friends. "No one wants to stay in a town where three of their best friends died."

"Dude, how are you so cool about all of this?" Han asked Chan, confused at how calm the older had been acting this entire time. "Don't you want to figure out what happened? To Hyunjin, our parents, anyone?"

"Han, let's be real for a second," Chan retaliated. "It's not like any of us were that close to our families anyways! My parents always regretted buying me my guitar, and my sister never bothered to come see me once I left. Changbin, your parents were one fight away from divorcing, and Han, your parents were never cool again once you came out to them." Han and Changbin fixed their stares upon the ground once more, sadness overtaking their features.

"Okay, none of us had it great," Han replied while huffing. "But at least we had something! You know what we have now? Nothing. And before one of you says cool teleportation skills, just know that I am not necessarily a fan of that! It tingles," Han squirmed uncomfortably. "In really weird places!"

Changbin pursed his lips in confusion, narrowing his eyes judgingly at the younger bandmate; on the other hand, Chan tilted his head as he fought back laughter.

"I'll tell you what we had," Chan rose from the park bench, taking a few steps towards the other two. "It's what we've had since the day we met! Since we formed 3RACHA!" Han and Changbin looked at each other, perplexed at what Chan meant; the oldest of the three sighed. "We have each other! We are the only family we're ever gonna need. And there's one more thing we have!"

"Death breath?" Changbin inquired, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Our music, you dork," Chan chuckled as he pointed towards Changbin; Han and Changbin still seemed wonderous. "People, actual people, can hear us play! Sure, we can't be seen, but we can be felt! It's like I said outside of the Orpheum that night: our music connects us with people! I just wish I had my guitar!"

As if an invisible genie were floating beside Chan, his guitar suddenly appeared, causing him to spin around from the impact, barely catching it in his grasp. His eyes widened in awe as he stared down at the instrument.

"Woah!" Changbin explained. "That was awesome! How'd you do that?!"

"I don't know!" Chan answered honestly. "I mean, I wished for it, and then it appeared!" Upon finishing his statement, Changbin squatted down and held his hands open.

"I wish I had a puppy!" He winced, expecting a puppy to appear in his hands as Chan's guitar had; he opened his eyes slightly, feeling disappointed yet trying again. "A hamster?" Nothing. "Pizza?!" he sighed exasperatedly on his final attempt, kicking at the sand and plopping onto the ground frustratedly whilst pouting.

"Hey," Chan leaned down to teasingly smack Changbin's shoulder. "I think I know something that'll cheer you up!" Chan began strumming at his guitar, playing the tune to a song Changbin had wrote a while back. Han added on to the beat, alternating between patting his knees, snapping, and clapping as if he was drumming.

"Come on, Binnie!" Han encouraged as Chan continued to play; Changbin jumped up as Chan began to count down:

"One, two, three, four!"

Can you, can you hear me? (Yup) Loud and clear We gotta get, gotta get ready

'Cause it's been years

Oh, this band is back Oh, this band is back"

And so, the three friends wandered down the beach, their laughter blending with the sound of claps and strums as they played their hearts out under the warm afternoon sun. Just like before, the music echoed across the shore, drawing the attention of those nearby, who could not help but dance and nod along to the rhythm. Though the crowd could not see the boys behind the melodies, 3RACHA didn’t mind in the slightest. They skipped and hopped, carefree in their joy, their playful teasing filling the air as they made their way down the path, smiles stretching so wide it almost hurt.

---

You returned home from school, trekking up the stairs dejectedly and still feeling bummed about your conversation with Mrs. Jeon. You opened your bedroom door, looking forward to resting after a despondent day; however, walking into the room revealed an unpleasant sight.

"What are you guys doing in my bedroom?!" you yelled at the three guys, who all perked their heads up out of shock; Han was attempting to pick up a photograph, although his hands kept passing through, Changbin was nearly half asleep on your bed, and Chan stood on a stepstool peering at the items you had collected on your shelf. Instantly, they all began stammering and tripping over words as they attempted to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"We were looking for the kitchen?" Chan asked more than answered; Changbin immediately nodded and pointed to him in a, 'Yeah, what he said,' type fashion.

"This," you moved your pointer finger around to gesture to all three of them, "can't happen! It's creepy!" You then fixed your gaze upon Changbin. "Off the bed, please!" you commanded, causing him to immediately jump off and mutter an apology.

"Hey, y/n," Chan raised his hand as if he was in class trying to signal a teacher. "What's in the box?" he pointed to a small, painted chest on one of your shelves.

"None of your business," you bluntly replied.

"Oh, okay!" Chan let out a laughter-esque breath. "Girl stuff. I got it."

"Oh, like unicorns and glitter?" an oblivious Changbin inquired.

"Oh, come on you guys!" Han exclaimed. "I am sorry about them."

"It's fine," you replied to Han's apology. "And yes, there may be a little bit of glitter." Changbin nodded approvingly. Han went back to attempting to pick up the photograph on your nightstand, his attempts futile as his hands once again passed through.

"I don't get it," you responded to his actions. "You guys can mess up my bed, pick up your instruments, but you can't make contact with other objects?"

"Right," Chan agreed. "It's hard, but holding our instruments is easy!"

"Yeah, super easy!" Changbin added emphasis to Chan's statement, beaming in excitement as he remembered a trick. "Oh! Check out what I learned!" He held out his hands, and his red bass guitar appeared into them, knocking him to the ground due to the force of the instrument.

"Yeah, that looked super easy," you smiled as you teased Changbin as he groaned in pain and attempted to stand back up.

"I guess it's like Chan thought," Han beamed. "Our instruments are attached to our souls!" Speaking of Chan, he had began to wonder back over to the mystery chest; however, you quickly caught him in the act.

"Chan! I thought I told you to leave that alone!"

"I know you did!" he responded, looking antsy. "You shouldn't have said anything thought because now I can't stop thinking about it!" Chan threw his hands down in exasperation. "What's in the box, y/n?" Your first thought probably should not have been, 'He’s curious about me?' Yet, before you could overthink it, you snapped yourself back into reality, shaking off the distraction. With a deep breath, you grounded yourself, reminding your racing mind to focus.

"It's my dream box," you finally admitted. "Whenever I get a thought or idea I think is cool, I write it down."

"Like lyrics?" Chan raised an eyebrow as he glanced back towards you, his curious gaze making your brain go numb for a second.

"Y-yeah, kind of," you stammered, folding your arms over your chest. "I guess they would be if I still wrote music. Now it's just full of things that don't make me sad." The room was silent for a moment, the boys looking at you and nodding with sympathy; suddenly, Han rose up from where he had taken a seat.

"But, you do play!" he told you without thinking. "We heard you this morning!"

"You guys were in the garage?!" Your outburst made Chan walk over and gently smack Han on the back of the head, causing the latter to flinch and rub the afflicted spot. "Hello?!" you added on, not getting a response the first time; as if on cue, all three boys began stuttering and mumbling again, this time saying things about how Han had misspoke. In order to distract you, Chan walked towards you, laying himself in front of you on your bed and propping his chin up on his arm.

"So, where is your kitchen?" he quieried, a dazed look present in his eyes. You were almost swayed by the adorable stare.

Almost.

You sarcastically smiled before answering: "Okay, we need to set some boundaries." Chan nodded adoringly as you moved your stance down to meet his before continuing. "For starters, stay out of my room!" The last part of your sentence came out louder than the rest as you gestured towards the door impatiently. All three boys scattered to make their way out as you commanded, saying things such as, "Yes ma'am!" and "We are out!" as they departed, passing through the door as if it was not there.

---

After an eventful day between school, explaining your heart-held dream box, and a prior conversation convincing your dad not to sell the house, you had worked up a late-night appetite. You hustled down the stairs to the kitchen. You almost screamed at the sight of someone standing by your fridge, but the tension in your body melted away as you realized it was just Chan.

"I am never going to get used to that," you muttered, eliciting a quiet giggle from Chan.

Awe man! Even his laugh was cute.

You shook your head as you approached the fridge behind him, peering over his shoulder.

"Do you guys even eat?" you genuinely asked. Chan shook his head; he and the boys had not had anything to snack on since their arrival.

"I just want to see what you have." You nodded, shutting the door through his ghostly figure.

"Hey!" Chan immediately protested. "You know how long it took me to open that?!"

"Sorry, I don't believe in wasting energy," you retaliated, grabbing some peanut butter and two slices of bread from the pantry.

"Perfect, because that's exactly what I want to talk to you about," Chan optimistically commented, his metaphor stunning you slightly.

"My electricity usage?" you spoke slowly as you rattled your brain for what on Earth Chan could be referring to,

"No, the energy that you have," he elaborated. "Your voice, your piano playing. Mate, you're a human super-weapon!" He spoke with a certain fondness in his voice.

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?" you inquired, turning your attention back to your sandwich.

"What I'm saying is you have the power to move people," Chan replied, his Aussie accent thick in his voice. "To knock them off their feet. There is no way your teachers would kick you out for good if they could hear how well you played this morning!"

"Yeah, well I asked her, and she said I have to wait until next school year."

"That was your first mistake," Chan scrunched his face in disapproval. "Asking. 3RACHA booked gigs by doing," he opposed as he hopped up to sit on your kitchen counter. "We went into ambush mode! We played in front of clubs, behind clubs, we even played book clubs."

"Book clubs?" you questioned, a tad intrigued.

"Yeah, not a lot of gigs from those old ladies but we did get some gnarly snacks," he chuckled, but you remained stoic. "I'm just telling you to not ask for permission. Use your ultra super-weapon powers and smash the stupid rules out of their brains!" Chan beamed; however, you declined his suggestion at first.

"It's not a club, it's school. And your plan sounds violent!"

"It's a closed door, and you gotta bust it open!" You moved away from Chan, smirking at his comment as you made your way to the fridge to grab a glass of milk. "Sorry. Once I start metaphor-ing, I can't stop. I learned that in book club."

"They're not just gonna let me back in." Your words faltered as you turned around, unintentionally passing through Chan. A strange flutter of nervous energy stirred in your chest as you quickly spun back to face him. Both of you stood there, exchanging a sheepish smile, the awkwardness of the moment hanging between you.

"If getting back into music is what you want, then you gotta go for it!" Chan further encouraged you, putting a hand on your shoulder briefly before it fell through. "You never know what life has in store. Learn from me! Your tainted hot dog could be right around the corner," he whispered as you leaned down to take a bite of your sandwich; however, you lost your appetite from the warning, slowly removing the food from your mouth and setting it down on the counter.

"I don't even have a song prepa-"

"Thought you'd say that," Chan cut you off as he held up a piece of paper, conclusively with a song written on it. "It's called 'Bright.' It's a 3RACHA song I wrote that we never got to record, but it's perfect for your range," he expounded as he unfolded the paper. "Check out the chorus for a second. If you add a bit of piano, I'm telling you!" Chan then began to sing the chorus; you jumped in halfway through, with Chan encouraging you to, "go a bit higher!" on the final note. Internally, he jumped for joy as you turned to him, his smile widening with every step you took, silently cheering you on. You glanced up at him, a longing flickering in your eyes, aware of what you were feeling—and, judging by the soft flush of dusty pink on his cheeks, what he was feeling as well. Yet, you pushed those thoughts aside with a simple, 'Thanks,' masking the weight of the moment with casual words.

He bit his lip, a playful glint still shining in his eyes as he nodded, his smile filled with quiet joy. The two of you locked eyes for a brief moment, the air thick with unspoken understanding, before both of you chuckled lightly, the sound tinged with the shyness that neither of you could quite hide.

"Yeah, yeah, now get some sleep," he rolled his eyes playfully while looking down at you. "Big day tomorrow!" You beamed at his words before saying goodnight and walking away. Chan glimpsed at you the whole way through, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms. The unfamiliar feeling was back in his chest, and he felt himself unintentionally smiling.

In such a short span of time, you had already gotten Chan wrapped around your finger.

---

Your initial plan to play for Mrs. Jeon was foiled the instant you walked into the music room; all of the students and teachers were down in the gymnasium for the spirit rally. You had missed your shot.

Or so you believed, until Flynn, who you had walked in on blowing aimlessly into a trumpet, had an idea spark into her brain.

The two of you walked into the gym in the midst of Carrie's group, Dirty Candy's performance. The crowd was abuzz with cheer and hollering as the group danced and sang energetically.

"Look who spent all her daddy's money on costumes and Katy Perry's choreographer," Flynn remarked sarcastically as you shoved your hands in the pockets of your camo jumpsuit.

"Well, it paid off," you replied as you fixated on Carrie's performance.

Abruptly, the guys appeared, with Chan instantly making his way over to you.

"What are you guys doing here?" you inquired silently so that Flynn would not hear you and assume you were talking to yourself.

"We came to see you stick it!" Chan pumped his arms up and down, an energetic grin plastered upon his face. Han nodded in agreement, a smile playing at his own lips; however, Changbin's eyes instantly glued to the colorful ladies cascading across the gym floor.

"Man, I miss high school," he muttered. Han and Changbin turned to see the performance he was referring to, with Han joining in on the lively choreography; he managed to earn a cut it out gesture from Chan, who had noticed your dejected expression.

As Dirty Candy ended their performance, the director and Mrs. Jeon stepped onto the floor for some announcements, with the director making an awful pun about how the show was, "Sweet."

"Now's your chance!" Flynn hyped. "Go talk to her! See you in music class!" Before you could respond, Flynn ran off into the bleachers. You, however, stayed still, a feeling of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

"What are you waiting for?" Changbin questioned. "This is your time!"

"Yeah, you look really nervous!" Han commented. "Like, you're about you yack in a bowl nervous!" You sighed fearfully, turning to Chan for comfort.

"I don't think i had enough time to work on the song!" you confessed.

"Hey, listen! I wouldn't have given you the song if I didn't think you were gonna rock it," Chan turned towards the stage and gestured towards it. "There is a piano on that stage with your name on it. So, are you gonna act or live your life in fear?" Something clicked inside of your head, and you beamed at Chan, nodding thankfully towards him.

You dashed towards the stage, approaching the piano nervously as you made it up; all three guys had their eyes fixated on you, two out of curiosity and one out of admiration. You sat down as the students began to exit, playing the keys you had stayed up all last night learning; however, your movements quickly faltered as you noticed everyone leaving.

"You got this!" Chan encouraged you from the gym floor; that was all you needed to begin to play. You precisely plucked every note you had memorized, taking in a deep breath as your fingers moved on their own. The sound guy, although he had no idea what was going on, went along with it, placing a spotlight upon you and heightening the audio of the keyboard and microphone as you began to sing:

"Sometimes I think I'm falling down I wanna cry, I'm callin' out For one more try To feel alive And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark And find the spark"

The students and teachers paused in there tracks, drawn to the sound of your playing. their chatter fading as they gathered to listen. Out of the corner of your eye, you took account of how Mrs. Jeon had gestured towards you, unmistakably signalling the director. Flynn sat on the sidelines, silently cheering you on with her hands clasped in encouragement; not far from her, Han, Chan, and Changbin watched intently, their quiet support radiating from their smiles.

"Life is a risk but I will take it Close my eyes and jump Together I think that we can make it Come on let's run and"

As your voice soared into the climactic high note, Chan, Han, and Changbin suddenly appeared behind you on stage, seamlessly joining in with their instruments. The unexpected sight startled you at first, but gratitude quickly replaced your surprise. Their presence, steady and unwavering, infused you with a renewed surge of confidence, propelling you to pour even more emotion into your performance.

"Rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever And rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever"

It was during this verse that you noticed something unusual. Students were rushing toward the stage, their excited murmurs breaking through your focus. Snippets like, 'Who are they?' and 'Whoa, she has a band!' reached your ears. Confusion flickered through you as you continued to sing, your gaze darting between the crowd and the guys behind you. Then, like a lightbulb flickering on, realization dawned:

They could see the boys.

The bandmates had noticed the commotion as well. Changbin and Han exchanged uneasy glances before scanning the crowd, their concern evident in the furrow of their brows. Chan, however, stood steady, his eyes sweeping over the audience with a quiet pride that seemed to radiate from him, as if he knew this moment was meant to be one in the spotlight.

"Uh, is this really happened?" you questioned Chan with a false smile towards the crowd plastered on your face.

"Just go with it!" he nearly screamed out of excitement as he began to belt out his own verse.

"In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left I feel something around me now So unclear lifting me out I found the ground I'm marching on"

You were fully in sync with Changbin as Chan took the spotlight, his performance captivating everyone around. Both Changbin and Han had found their groove, their earlier tension replaced by ease as they settled into their parts, now fully understanding the shift in the moment. As the song built, Changbin, with a confident grin, made his way over to Chan's microphone stand, ready to harmonize with him and add his voice to the mix.

"Life is a risk but we will take it Close my eyes and jumpTogether I think that we can make it Come on let's run and"

The four of you belted the chorus together, the energy between you palpable as all three of your bandmates leaped onto the stage, bringing a burst of vitality that electrified the crowd. The student body erupted in cheers, their excitement vibrating through the air. Amid the chaos, you caught sight of Carrie forcing her way through the crowd, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at you. But the intensity of the moment quickly swept her from your mind, as Chan’s voice filled the space once more, grounding you back in the performance.

"In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left"

Midway through Chan's verse, you crept up behind him with your microphone, a playful glint in your eye as you gestured for him to follow. Without missing a beat, he did, and you brought the mic to his lips, mouthing the words along with him as his voice seamlessly joined the melody. The crowd responded with a chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs,' the energy building with each passing moment. Chan, bathed in the electric purple lights, flashed a wide, radiant grin that made him look almost otherworldly, his presence as mesmerizing as the music itself

"And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark, and find the spark"

You took Chan's advice to heart, pushing your voice higher on the final note of your verse as the last chorus soared. When the song came to a close, all four of you took a bow, Han adding a dramatic flourish by tapping his cymbals. You raised your fist triumphantly into the air, a wave of pride rushing through you. But then, a sudden shift in the crowd’s energy caught your attention; gasps replaced the earlier cheers, the once exuberant audience now hushed in surprise. Taken aback, you turned quickly, your heart racing as you searched for the source of their reaction. As you turned around, you felt your stomach drop.

The boys were gone.

[wolfprincesszola]

Lightbulb (Julie and the Phantoms)

Am I posting for an almost dead community? Yes, but when am I not? Enjoy.

Masterlist ——————– Summary: Luke finds a cute girl in his college class and finds himself obsessed with wanting to learn more about her. However, she isn't making it easy with her quietness. Then, he watches as she lights up like a lightbulb.

Trigger Warnings: None

Content Warnings: None ——————–

When Luke Patterson had walked into his Calculus I class, he had noticed that there were only a few people in the class. He was not a stranger to the college experience and of the unsaid courtesies students gave to one another but there was a really pretty girl that hadn't reserved the spot next to her like most had with their backpacks. Luke immediately headed towards her table, sitting down next to her. She looked up at him, a little spooked.

"Is this Calc I with Professor Nash?" He asked to try and make conversation with her.

She looked at him to process what he said before nodding and going back to her work. She was writing in a notebook.

Great...he really just ruined his chance to be her friend and get to know her by spooking her, didn't he?

He got ready for class and pulled his things out. The two focused up as the professor entered the classroom.

"Good morning, everyone. Before we get started for class, I'd like to pass out the attendance form. Just initial where your name is and pass it to the next person."

Luke went to grab a worksheet at the front while he waited for the attendance sheet. Once he was back, he was given the form and searched through his backpack for a pencil. Although calm at first, he became frantic soon after when he couldn't find anything. He could see the girl next to him eyeing him and he got even more embarrassed. Why couldn't he just do one thing around a pretty girl without messing it up?

Then, there was a blue No. 2 pencil, decorated with music notes, in front of his face. He looked over to the girl who seemed unbothered and instead smiled at him.

Searching for his name, he initialed where it said "Patterson, Luke" with a "LP". Then, he thanked her and gave her both the pencil and the form. She herself also scanned the paper, but he noticed she glanced at Luke's initials too. Maybe it was just a coincidence. He tried glancing where she initialed subtly, but was unable to upon seeing her pass it too quickly to the back.

The rest of class was with the two minding their own business and doing their own work. The only time they discussed was during class discussions where they had to look over each other's work. He noticed how quiet and shy she was.

When the class was over, she had left before Luke could even have a chance to talk to her.

The next 16 weeks he spent next to her consisted of the same nervousness. Luke always sat next to her as she always arrived early and sat down early. He always passed the attendance form to her, although he started bringing his pencils to class. She was always ready to offer him a hand when he needed something. He always helped to check her work. They always had small quiet conversations that never seemed to give Luke any insight into who she was. She was very quiet and like always, Luke never got her name as she was always out the door before he could even blink.

Then, the class was over and Luke was back to square one. Maybe he would see her around campus, though he doubted it. She would probably be the Mystery Girl for all his life and he was forever doomed to wonder who the Mystery Girl was and who she could've been to him.

Spring term came and Luke begrudgingly attended his Calculus II class in mourning, knowing what happened at his last Calculus class. As he walked in, his heart sank as it was an empty classroom. A little part of him was hoping that Mystery Girl would've been there waiting as if she knew he would come. He sank his head into his seat and pulled out his things for class as he waited for students to file in and for the class to start.

Then, someone placed a book down next to his seat and sat in it without saying anything. Luke looked up and his heart fluttered upon seeing Mystery Girl.

Oh, right, he was an idiot. The Calculus classes were 3-term classes from Calculus I ranging all the way to Calculus III.

She gave an awkward smile to him and he returned it.

Maybe things were finally going his way.

When class finally started, the professor flipped open the syllabus, asking everyone to introduce themselves to their neighbor for ten minutes.

Luke took that time to turn to the Mystery Girl and finally smiled at her to ask the question he had been wanting to ask her for the past 16+ weeks. "Hi, what's your name?"

"Julie. You're Luke, right?"

"Yeah, good memory." Luke gave a small smile. He knew that she must've seen him sign his name on the form. "You have a really pretty name."

"Thanks." Julie smiled. "We were in the same Calc class last term, right?"

"Yeah." Luke nodded.

Julie nodded before looking at the board, "We should probably go down the list of icebreakers. What's your favorite hobby?"

"Singing and writing songs, probably." Luke shrugged, "I have a band. What about you?"

"You have a band?" Julie gasped in excitement, "I write music too."

Luke watched as Julie lit up, almost like a lightbulb, and suddenly, the conversation went from forced awkwardness to a flowing natural conversation. She burst into a rant about her mother introducing her to the world of music and the school she attended. Luke didn't feel any anxiety to talk to her anymore and suddenly, 10 minutes had gone by and the two still had more to talk about.

At the end of class, Luke knew he couldn't let the moment slip by, so he stopped Julie before she could leave.

"Can I have your number?" He asked, "There's just so much more I want to talk to you about."

"Sure." Julie smiled at him and Luke noticed that once he turned on her lightbulb of enthusiasm, there seemed to be no way to turn it back off.

He was completely fine with that.

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

Oh! I almost missed these!

Yeah that sounds like a you problem and Bobby?

Okay, so. I know normally prompts are for fun times but... I needed something platonic. And something with one of the girls after all I've been writing for the last week. So. That + my own family drama means we got Bobby & Carrie sibs. Hope that's okay!

He can hear the loud stomping from down the hall and smiles to himself. Does he need to be in here tonight? No. Does it fuel him knowing how mad she’s going to be about it? Yes, absolutely. He needs to get his kicks from somewhere, right?

He schools his face back into a neutral expression, focusing back on his game. He continues half listening down the hall while he plays.

“Bobby!” Carrie shouts as she appears in the doorway, “I told you that I needed the TV room tonight!”

He doesn’t look up from his game. “It’s a common area, Carrie. You don’t get to lay claim to it just because you want. I was here first.”

“We talked about this,” she seethes through clenched teeth. 

Bobby has to concentrate to prevent himself from grinning. She is so predictable.

“You talked,” he reminds her. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

Carrie throws her hands up as she shrieks, “I hate you.”

Bobby shrugs. “Okay, and?”

She huffs defiantly, somehow managing to restrain herself from stomping her foot. “You’re the absolute worst brother.”

“How could you know? I’m your only brother. Besides, if it wasn’t me, it could be someone like…” he trails off, dragging out the teasing for as long as possible. “Reggie.”

Carrie draws in a sharp breath and Bobby manages to refrain from laughing. He knows that Carrie has a complicated relationship with Reggie. Much like everyone, if he’s being completely honest. Sometimes, he annoys the absolute shit out of them with his goofiness and naivete but there’s always an undercurrent of adoration. You can’t help but love Reggie. 

Well, most people, anyway. 

“Or Luke,” he adds, relishing in the way that she goes silent. 

“I’d have murdered him in the womb,” she says finally, voice dripping with derision. 

Bobby coughs out a laugh at that. 

Carrie sighs, “So can I have the room, please? The girls will be here any minute.”

“No,” he says simply. 

This time, she does stomp her feet. She lets out an angry growl. “I wish you’d never been born!” she yells as she storms back down the hall.

“That makes two of us,” he mutters

He was apparently louder than he’d intended because she doubles back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks from the doorway. He can hear the conflict in her voice, her tone somewhere between anger, annoyance, and worry.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Bobby decides he’s done playing his game, both the one on the television and the one with his sister. He saves and shuts down the console. He gathers his handful of things and stands, turning to face a very confused Carrie. 

“What are you-?” she asks. 

“I changed my mind. Have fun,” he says, brushing past her and toward his bedroom. 

It’s not long after, maybe half an hour, when there’s a knock on his door. 

“I don’t want to talk,” he calls, “leave me alone.”

Carrie opens his door a crack, just wide enough to see into his room. “Well too bad,” she tells him.

Bobby rolls his eyes, “Don’t you have friends to entertain?”

“They’re fine without me for a few minutes. I’m worried about you.”

He studies her for a moment before redirecting his attention to the book in his hand. “Yeah, that sounds like a you problem.”

She pushes his door open further, stepping into his room fully. She crosses her arms over her chest, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I didn’t ask you to be and it’s not my problem. You deal with your feelings and I’ll deal with mine.”

“Are you though?”

“Am I what?”

“Dealing with your feelings.”

He stares at her. “Are you?” 

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Exactly. I’m not your problem. You’re not mine. Go away.”

“Don’t say I never cared about you,” Carrie huffs as she turns on her heel to leave.

“Close the door!” 

She turns back to glare at him before wheeling back around and slamming his door closed behind her. 

Bobby sighs. He fumbles around for his bookmark, inexplicably finding it behind his pillow. He slides it into place to mark his spot and closes his book. 

He climbs off his bed, crouching down beside it. He reaches in under his mattress to dig out his secret notebook. He might not want to talk about his problems but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deal with them. In the only real way he knows how, anyway.

Bobby crawls back into his bed and digs out a pen from his bedside table. It’s not much but if he maybe gets a line or two to contribute to Luke’s next masterpiece, then so be it. If it helps to clear up some of his thoughts at the same time? Even better.