#just realized i didnt draw frost

[jadecantcreate]

some friday night ouaw doodles! close ups below the cut

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[rintaroll]

❝ INSIDE THE LINES. ❞

— during matsukawa's time babysitting your niece, more than a couple realizations occur to you.

⊱┊pairing. matsukawa issei x gn!reader ⊱┊tags. fluff, established relationship, reader has a 6 year old niece and works at the bakery, food mention, mattsun has a sleeve tattoo :], unedited ⊱┊wc. 1.3k ⊱┊note. cleaning out my drafts hehe this was back when i had my mattsun brain rot (OH btw while writing this he works as a tattoo artist in my mind but i didnt mention it anywhere)

© RINTAROLL

"issei, i'm so sorry-"

"it's fine," matsukawa waves his hand dismissively. his eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. "when are you coming home?"

"soon. i just have to frost the cupcakes and wait for the customer to pick them up." you pan your phone to the chocolate cupcakes, fresh out of the oven and still steaming hot.

"those look really good, babe." matsukawa muses.

you hear a small voice squealing from behind the camera. "i wanna see!"

your boyfriend chuckles, eyes trained on your niece, himeko, whose ears have perked up at the word 'cupcakes'. the six-year-old scrambles onto the sofa, comfortably nestling herself into matsukawa's side. her eyes widen when she finally sees the cupcakes in all their chocolatey goodness. "yummy..." she says, eyes boring into matsukawa's phone screen, unblinking and shiny.

you pan your phone back to your face. "they're not for you!" you remind her.

"i know!" himeko sighs dramatically, strands of hair falling onto her face. mattsun effortlessly brushes it back. "i have to wait for tomorrow so we can make them together."

"yes, that's right." you nod in approval.

"why can't it be tomorrow already?" she pouts. mattsun doesn't realize, but your eyes are trained on him while he stares at your niece while adorning an amused smile.

"hm," you ponder. "maybe if you sleep early tonight, then tomorrow will come earlier?" a sly grin forms on your lips.

himeko narrows her eyes at you. "that's not gonna work on me!"

you shrug. "worth a try."

matsukawa snickers at your failed attempt to trick her. "smart girl," he praises her before raising one of his hands, which is met with a high five from himeko. your niece then proceeds to stick her tongue out at you.

you shake your head, but there's a smile on your lips despite you doing so. she might as well steal your boyfriend at this point, you think to yourself.

you can almost remember the good times—when himeko was four and hiding behind your legs, while matsukawa was crouching in front of you. she was terrified, little hands gripping onto your pants. she told you he looked like a gangster, with all the tattoos covering the entirety of his right arm. "what if he kidnaps me?" she wailed once he leaves, to which you comfort her by saying that he won't. from her skeptic expression and her glassy eyes, it was safe to say that she was far from convinced.

and yet now here you are. with your boyfriend and your niece in cahoots, conspiring together to overthrow you someday.

"anyways, i was calling because she wanted me to tell you she finished her coloring book, isn't that right, hime?"

halfway through his words, himeko lets out an 'oh!' and jumps up from the couch. she picks up her coloring book off the floor, where it was surrounded by an assortment of colored pencils and markers in disarray. flipping to the last page, she proudly shows off her latest piece of work. "look!"

you gasp, genuinely admiring the effort she's put into coloring in the drawing of a fish. considering how she's just turned six, she's done a wonderful job in coloring inside the lines. "that looks so nice! did you do that all by yourself?"

"yep!" she chirps, nodding excitedly before stopping to ponder for a moment. "hm... i guess, uncle mattsun did help me color the amenomies..."

"anemones," matsukawa stage whispers.

"right, amenemones."

you and matsukawa bite back your laughs. "it looks really good, himeko," you comment, still smiling.

himeko nods absentmindedly. it becomes obvious to both you and matsukawa that her attention is not on either of you anymore. she goes out of frame as she continues to flip through her coloring book and zeroes in on her work, leaving matsukawa the only one left in view of the camera.

your eyes flit to the top of your phone screen, clicking your tongue when you read the time. "alright, i better go and start frosting. the customer will be here soon. bye, himeko! bye, baby."

matsukawa's heart flutters helplessly. he will never get tired of you calling him that. "see you," your boyfriend beams. although still engrossed by her coloring book, you hear your niece mumble a soft 'bye' right before the call ends.

pocketing his phone, matsukawa turns his focus back on himeko only to find her tiny lips curled into a frown. "something wrong, sweets?"

she looks up, with her brows all scrunched up. matsukawa feels his heart melt at the sight. "i'm out of pages. what will i color now?"

"i'll buy you another one tomorrow, okay?" he pokes her nose.

with a giggle, she scrunches her nose in effect. "okay."

an idea spontaneously strikes matsukawa. it might be one of the best ideas he's had in a while—the realization that himeko brings out his creative side more often than not quickly becomes an afterthought.

"actually, hime..."

her ears perk up, big eyes staring up at him. those big, doe eyes he has not learned how to say no to.

"i know something else you can color."

matsukawa was sure he saw himeko visibly light up when he offers his tattooed arm. he doesn't need to tell her twice. she expeditiously collects her markers off the ground—she's big enough to know that pencil colors won't be able to color in your skin!—and spreads them out on the sofa next to where both of them sit.

snuggled into his side, matsukawa has his tattooed arm around her as himeko starts to color in the tattoos from the ones on his forearm. "i'll make sure your arm looks extra pretty!" she exclaims excitedly.

"can you make it look as pretty as you are?"

himeko tilts her head to the side as she thinks of an answer. "hm... maybe. i'll try." the earnestness in her answer makes matsukawa chuckle.

as himeko continues, her inquiries about his sleeve don't stop. did it hurt? (just a little bit.) what's the meaning behind this one? (there's no meaning to that one. this one, however...) are you gonna get a tattoo of y/n? (i already did.) can i get one too? (matsukawa laughs awkwardly when he hears the last question, immediately changing the topic by asking her what her favorite color is. he doesn't want to get into trouble.)

the conversations tone down when himeko makes it halfway through matsukawa's forearm. he knows himeko turns quiet once she's focused. it's only when matsukawa feels her marker slip that he realizes that she has nodded off. making as little movement as possible, he closes the cap on the red marker that she was holding and puts it aside.

half an hour later, you tip-toe into your living room with the intention to surprise your boyfriend and your niece at heart. as you get closer, suspicions start to arise when you realize that it's awfully quiet.

wait, are they-

oh.

they are.

your heart blooms at the precious sight of matsukawa and himeko fast asleep on the couch. matsukawa's head is lolled back on the back of the sofa, his arms around himeko as she is curled up into his side. they look so comfortable and peaceful, soft snores coming out of the both of them with hideko's head rising up and down along with matsukawa's chest with every breath that he takes.

you just finished snapping a quick picture when realization sets in.

and no, it's not about how matsukawa has successfully won her over for good—that realization has set in a long time ago.

but it's realizing that you want to spend the rest of your life coming home to this sight. him dozing off on the sofa, waiting for you to come home, and maybe a child, or two, of your own curled up next to him.

vocabulary !

himeko is written like so: 姫子 in kanji. 姫 (hime) means princess, while 子 (ko) means child. mattsun's nickname for her is hime, which essentially means he calls her 'princess'.

[bonnieisaway]

scissor seven season 3 spoilers

ok i just i was editing something real quick and i. god i NEED to talk about the art in season 3

so like the artstyle of this show very much evolves over the course of it WHICH IS A THING I LOVE because while season 1's artstyle had its charming parts i didnt enjoy it as much compared to the other seasons

like here you can see a clear difference in how they draw seven

and this is one of the far less heavy detailed scenes but you can see it in mainly seven's hair and outfit and it's just. GOD i love it but the REASON i wanna talk about it is because of THE EXPRESISONS. THE EXPRESSIONS

and specifically thirteen's expression and how you can see what she's thinking in this moment AND ALSO HER BODYLANUGAGE GOD.

i'll get into why this scene makes me mentally ill in a second but GOD just look at her compared to her first expression in season 1

why was her hair black in her first appearance. like it's evident her hair didn't turn blue for animation reasons cus seven's stays consistently dark black it confuses me daily. also her swords used to have a beige handle?

ANYWAY I just. Would like to analyze the way they so excellently conveyed her absolute terror so quietly.

Before the oracle even blacks out the sky, Thirteen is visibly worried. Somewhere between shocked and worried, I think, and she's in this pose where she's ready to attack or move at any second.

And as he begins to black out the sky, the way her shoulders have moved it looks like she took a step back as she looked up, and she's stopped focusing on Seven and is trying to figure out what the FUCK is going on, and better yet, what to do.

I can't really tell exactly what she's thinking here, but she's obviously stunned. Usually when Thirteen is trying to process what's going on or what to do, she jumps away from the person/danger and narrows her eyes trying to focus, presumably, sometimes overwhelmed. But there's nowhere for her to run here, she's just frozen.

And then the prayer beads begin to fall, and she's horrified. She's realized what's about to come, and you can see her arms almost.. relaxed? I don't know if she was just so shocked that death was so imminent, or that her muscles instinctively relaxed when she knew there was nothing she could do, but god it's just so cool. Her expression isn't the normal fear we see on her in these situations, she's absolutely fucking terrified. Probably the most she's ever been, because unlike in other situations, it's coming so slowly she has time to react, but not enough to escape.

And then in the closeup she turns to Seven, presumably because he caught her attention although i'd like to think she was either looking for comfort in him or trying to check his expression i have to admit it was most likely him turning around that caught her eye

And you can see the shock on her face when she realizes what he's doing BEFORE WE EVEN KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING!! And it's so well illustrated because it's very clearly different from the fear she felt as the beads began to fall or as the oracle told her about the dark frost blade, but still VISIBLY shocked

And like,,, the way you can see how hard Seven is straining to get to her? The way his mouth moves in this cutscene it almost looked like he said something as he ran to her (though unlikely, i would've died on all levels if he yelled her name as he ran to her)

And this frame is visible for like a second tops but you can still see how surprised she is. She didn't think he would turn around to protect her.

And of course you can't see her face as they hit the ground but you can still see she's absolutely frozen by the way her arm is placed, but also YOU CAN SEE HOW TIGHTLY HE'S HOLDING ON TO HER. GOD.

Like yeah, this is a really tight timeframe and it's not like he'll spring up in seconds flat, but you can see how tightly he's clinging to her, and you can almost just,, tell how afraid he is? But it doesn't feel like he's afraid for himself, it's like he only cares that Thirteen is safe. And it's so fcking meaningful, because it's not that kind of "i broke the spell/curse because of the love" but it's "i love you so much that no matter how hard it is to fight it i will protect you" AND IT'S SO. FUCKING. GOD. AAAAAAAH. even the ORACLE couldn't understand

and the surprise on her face once he pushes himself up, the way he's breathing and straining because he put EVERYTHING into saving her. He didn't fight it like at ALL until this moment. And the first time I laughed cause he was saying "get out, please," and she just Sat There but in reality it's just. she was so surprised she could barely even THINK

and her face when she realizes THIS is what the blade is doing to him, and that he can barely even FUNCTION and just GOD i cant even fucking put it into WORDS. it doesn't need words it's just it's so beautifully illustrated and you can tell how much she means to him and the way she watches him run away to protect her, and the way that he only starts pushing through it and fighting it when she's around. and the fact that he used HIS SWORD, WHICH BACK IN SEASON TWO GREEN PHOENIX CALLS THE "ATTACK ONLY, THOUSAND DEMON DAGGERS."

AND ALSO I NEED TO TALK ABOUT SEVEN'S EXPRESSIONS IN THE NEXT EPISODE

AND THE WAY HIS EXPRESSION CHANGES WHEN THIRTEEN APPEARS.

HIS EYES. LITERALLY. FYCKING. LIGHT UP. HE REALIZES IT'S HER AND HIS EYES LIGHT UP.

AND HE WINCES AND SMILES THROUGH THE PAIN, AND EVEN WITH HOW HAPPY IT MAKES HIM TO SEE HER HE STILL TELLS HER SHE HAS TO GO. AND HE WINCES AND IS TRYING SO HARD TO FIGHT IT WHEN SHE GETS CLOSE TO HIM AND

SHE LOOKS SO SAD AND REMORSEFUL.

honestly the only thing the expressions and their bodylanguage is missing in this episode is i wish seven cried, before she showed up, because the coughs and wincing kept looking like he was crying to me and it fucked me up so hard

and his sad smile thinking of chicken island,,

and the way he smiles when he asks her to distract him from the pain. god. it hurts so much. you'd think in any other situation he'd be mad, or upset, and i think a little bit is because he understands, he knew it was always her mission to kill him. but it's also like dai bo said at the start of season 3 to xiao fei, "seven's dumb as a box of rocks, and i've lied to him a million times but he still trusts me as a friend."

he still trusts her. he still loves her. he doesn't care. he just asks her to help, and honestly i can't even tell if it's because he wants her there or if he wants her to stop feeling guilty, but i just. oh my god. god. i'm crying. i'm fr fucking crying. i'm crying over the silly little anime people.

and the way he looks at her when she says "that person is dead." like obviously he doesn't know who, or what happpened, but he sees the pain in her eyes and the hurt in her voice and he stops to think, he's careful not to upset her or put salt in the wound,

and instead of dwelling on it he jsut makes a joke he knows will make her blush. and he just sits back and falls asleep. and he tries to run first thing in the morning to keep her safe. fuck. god. damnit. hell. god. fuck. lord. fuck. Fuck

[meowscarada]

now that he's posting more gorillaz stuff again i gotta say something that really bums me out to have realized: i really dont like jamie hewlett's art anymore. this is only really in reference to his gorillaz work since his other stuff seems to still look amazing. i adore all of his (gorillaz related) work up to phase 4. i think the styles he employed for humanz was fantastic and experimental and i was so excited to see where he'd go, but somehow it just disappointed after that once he went to the really flat coloring with bizarre color choices that arent even bizarre in an interesting way. a lot of the drawings he does now are ugly, but again, not in an interesting way.

i know his art for gorillaz has never been "pretty." it's always been kinda gross and weird and, especially in phases 2 and 3, more grungy and messy. but at least they were dynamic and used that "ugliness" to accentuate the cartoonishness of the characters (and by ugly i mean unconventionally appealing). they were exaggerated and anatomically incorrect and had stray lines and were drawn with a textured brush. it was so imperfect altogether that the imperfections themselves didnt stand out, but instead complimented each other. phase 4 got a lot cleaner in its designs but the busy and highly edited collages along with beautiful color changes made up for this by maintaining a super dynamic atmosphere that was still avant-garde.

i think the biggest turn off of hewlett's current art is that it's too polished. it's too clean and it feels artificial. his lines are perfect, his brushes are non textured, etc. previous phases were accompanied by mostly muted color palettes with occassional accents of strong colors to really make them pop. now the color choices seem like artificial food colored frosting. they're bright but they dont really convey any kind of mood or atmosphere the way his color palettes used to do. the colors just feel very commercial. and the biggest change has come from his anatomy. his anatomy is extremely realistic compared to past eras. whereas before he would make very simple and angular shapes that really stylized the anatomy, now he's employing a way more representative style. and because human anatomy can only move and bend so much, and because that limitation becomes even more limited when it's being staged, hewlett's art is a lot more stiff than it used to be. so when you combine the "ugly" aspects of his art--the detailed hands, the individually drawn teeth, the wrinkles, etc.--with the more perfected and clean techniques he's using, they create something sort of uncanny. it doesnt embrace the ugly like it used to and now its not ugly in an interesting or appealing way. it's not dynamic and it's not exaggerated, it doesnt embrace itself the same way it did before. it doesnt commit. it's just ugly.

his work is still technically fine, and i'm sure it's embracing its ugliness in a different way. it's just not as successful as it was before in my opinion because it's basing its concept on the ugly and dynamic while basing its execution on the clean and accurate, whereas it used to base both concept and execution on the ugly and dynamic. i definitely think theres possibility for the art style to change, but this is just how i feel about the current direction and how i've felt about the art post-phase 4

[odysseys-blood]

Ask tag game!

I HAVENT SEEN ONE OF THESE IN FOREVERRR. Was tagged by one of my favoritest people ever @tilapiamafia mwah

Last…

Beverage:

I dink my oiter! woke up stuffy from the fan being on all night

Phone call:

Could not tell u i ignore like 90% of the calls i get. I think my dad called me abt smthn they did or didnt have in the store.

Text message:

I sent my dad this picture

Song you listened to:

Roll Over Bethoveeeen by Ryoma Maeda (this is the only song of his i know. its in a playlist with clipping., death grips, lil mariko and more. this is my Sounds playlist titled :) ]

Time you cried:

honestly could not tell you. i need to cry more but alas

Have you ever…

Dated someone twice:

Not even once 😔

Kissed someone and regretted it:

nope. would like to kiss someone tho (if you could not twll i have not done Shit. the world is my oyster still)

Lost someone special:

also not in a death way but most definitely lol. we keep it pushing tho it is what it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Been depressed:

Am. Im making it tho

Been drunk and threw up:

Never been drunk! or drank at all rather im not super interested. folks might try to get me smthn for my 21st but i still dont really care. most ppl talk abt alcohol tasting like pure chemical and i wont drink smthn if it doesnt taste good i have standards

Last year, have you…

Made a new friend:

Yeah! had the startling realization that the panny means one of my friends had seen my face for the first time ever bc we just met the past year (she said i had nice lips tho)

Fallen out of love:

yeah it happens. gotta stomp it out by force tho esp if the person wasnt good for me

Laughed until you cried:

all the time! i love a good laugh there is nothing more that i enjoy than to cackle, a hee hee hoo hoo, a tee hee, a giggle

Found out who your true friends are:

do you know how many fake ppl there are out here.

Found out someone was talking about you: 

see above. i have "friends" who will talk shit abt me to my face. (yeah im bad at leaving shitty relationships when its all i got for mental health during semester sessions)

General

How many people on your fb friends list do you know in real life?:

i do not have facebook. likely never will. i barely have an insta

List 3 favorite colors:

not a color but my favorite color scheme is analogous (from blue to red) and i call these the blood colors bc it reminds me of textbook circulatory system diagrams. if i do have to pick 3 tho then wine purple, teal, and red (or pink. theyre the same color.) (this is basically again just blue to red.)

Firsts

First surgery:

never had any surgeries so im gonna say being a c section baby

First piercing:

My ears got pierced when i was a baby! my brother is trying to convince my mom to get his ears pierced tho (she agreed to one ear only) so whenever he goes im probably gonna get more. someone suggest some bc besides a couple more lobe piercings bc idk for sure what i want. I used to want lip and nose piercings but i think i can manage with just faux piercing rings for now

First best friend:

a military brat i dont talk to anymore. i will say one friend i still hold dear now i met before her, early in elementary, but we didnt really talk as much til middle school when we met again. i adore her sm she texted me the other day crying bc frosting colors are harder to mix than paint. shes doing her best baking and i believe in her

First sport you joined:

none. did do orchestra in hs tho! id love to play violin now but those hoes are expensive

First vacation:

probably just to the beach. never really had a chance to vacation in my life

First pair of trainers:

....you want me to remember the first sneakers i ever got????

Right now

Eating:

last thing i had was some strawberry cream pie it was real good :]

Drinking:

nothing i should get on that tho bc im thirsty

I’m about to:

https://youtube.com/shorts/KcKbwOFLibo?feature=share real answer is im goin outside. i want to draw some tho so idk the world is my oyster yet again

Your future

Want kids:

probably not im good enough being an auncle. i love my nephews the littlest guys ever

Get married:

i think so! i think id be content without one tho. if i do idk if id want a big wedding either or even a reception

Career:

i wanna be a character designer and i am going to believe i make it bc i have no other skills. (i know autocad but god i dont want to be doing autocad)

Which is better

Lips or eyes:

both

Hugs or kisses:

i dont like being touched too much but hugs

Shorter or taller:

just somebody. lord.

Older or younger:

dont really care as long as its not a weird gap but probably a lill bit older

Romantic or spontaneous:

also no idea what that means. idk ig romantic? i like to know ehats going on so spontaneousness can get on my nerves sometimes

Nice stomach or nice arms:

i appreciate both. i need my partner to appreciate a nice tummy tho bc i def have one

Sensitive or loud:

sensitive bc i dont like loud volumes ever lol

Hook-up or relationship:

Relationship i dont think i can do a hook up. i need to know someone before i try to do anything

Trouble maker or hesitant:

either way is fine. im v hesitant tho maybe i need a trouble maker

Have you ever…

Kissed a stranger:

naur

Drank hard liquor: 

nope!

Lost glasses/contacts:

every fucking day in this goddamn hell hole. they fell when i got in bed i have no idea where they are.

Sex on first date:

nah i need to build trust

Broke someone’s heart:

idk. probs not but if i did oopsie daisy (◕_◕)

Been arrested:

nope!

Turned someone down:

yeah

Cried when someone died:

probably but i dont cry as often as i should so

Do you believe in…

Yourself:

i try to! bc who else is gonna do it if i dont first

Miracles:

no but if they happen then nice

Love at first sight:

no. a crush is not a love

Heaven:

not really but itd be nice to think about. dont think they'd let me in id be primed for like purgatory tho

Santa Claus:

https://youtu.be/4l5B5vlNN6w

Kiss on the first date:

yall can i probably never would

Angels:

would be cool could exist might not either way i have no control over it. i think some of my friends are angels tho (like the one battling with frosting colors)

i can feel that this ask list is probably from like 2015 lol. idk who else to tag but if you want to do it go ahead and tag me! @meicheesecake u have to tho.

[scratchbandicoot]

Based on this lovely lil thing

He swears on all the comedy shows he’s ever watched, this would be the exact moment where things would freeze frame, record scratch, and insert corny line, like, “Hi, I’m Steve, you’re probably wondering how i got here-“

And normally, in a situation like this one, it wouldn’t at all be the case. Baking is like, a seriously mundane thing a lot of people do. Mostly housewives, grandmas or kids with their parents but it just so happens that Steve is the one doing the baking right now- and it should have gone without a hitch. So, 20 minutes of digging into the cabinets of his mom’s cook books- he began. He wanted it to be good, not a cop out box of mix because making it from scratch makes it more special. And it’s a fucking cake; how hard could it really be?

Apparently super fucking hard actually. Because what should have been a completely mundane, simple task that takes like 40 minutes tops- Steve was left with this. Referring to the absolute disaster that is his kitchen. There’s like, 8 eggshells scattered all over the countertop- one somehow ending up on the floor and another on his knee. There is a spilling bag of sugar on its side creating a hectic little pile that leaks onto the stove top- (Thank god for his parents expensive ass glass-top stoves.) Somehow he managed to spill olive oil around the sink when the recipe doesn’t even call for it- and to top it all off there is flour covering every inch of the kitchen and himself. The apron he has on does absolutely nothing, the powder covering his pastel blue cashmere button up- and he’s sure he somehow managed to get flour on places where the sun don’t shine. He’s three hours 45 minutes deep at this point and he knows he’s literally about to cry. He can feel his eyes burning with frustration and a huge lump tightening his throat with the threat of unshed tears. How did he get to this point? Well, lets backtrack.

It’s Billy’s birthday tomorrow . Steve has always done something special on Billy’s birthdays- even though he is like, super weird about gifts and being given things. Seriously, last time Steve gave Billy just a dumb little birthday card with snoopy dancing, and text that read ‘a big-smiling, fun-having, great-feeling birthday’- his nose srunched up like he had to sneeze and he gave the most awkward thanks followed by a back pat that- felt so absolutely “hiya pal” that Steve cackled out loud to the point he was in tears. Billy just burned red and sputtered all irritated, “Stop fucking laughing, Harrington.” Guy just cannot handle shows of affection.

This though, was a little more special. A little more personal than a rinky-dink peanuts birthday card- because billy really loved confetti cake. It brought back memories of his mom; how they used to bake the cake together on his younger birthdays, and how much he really missed it. Nothing could really beat the warmth of those memories, or the fondness painting Billy’s face when he recalled them- but goddamit- steve was gonna try, was trying, his actual best. He even convinced Keith that he’d take his next Saturday shift if he let him off the hook today to do this. His nonna had baked with him when he was young-like, 6- so he figured he’d pick it back up. Which was so not the case here. It’s safe to say he is more than a little rusty. So rusty in fact, that his old bike that he got for his 12th birthday that sits in the garage decaying and untouched, had absolutely nothing on him right now.

The first try was peppy; with a shimmy of hips and a waving whisk to the song playing from the sound system in the living room, and Steve thought genuinely that he did it right. He might have, maybe, with the recipe, but the lump of coal that was pulled out of the oven indicated heavily to the opposite. The smoke in the kitchen made Steve cough and gag, having to open up all the windows along with the screen door. The second attempt was a different outcome. Terrible, but different. A cake with singed edges and a liquidy inside that stuck to the pan and got scraped out with an uncermonious plop into the garbage. Mush, really, something akin to the texture of apple sauce. The third attempt Steve really focused, he swears, but that just ended up with a cake that didnt even rise and he was back to square 1 before he knew it with a beautifully new sense of defeat.

So, before he had an actual mental break over a goddamn cake he knew 7 year olds could make better, he called up Ms. Henderson for help. The lady is practically a god when it comes to baking and he really does not know how she does it. Whips out cookies and tarts and cupcakes like it’s going out of style.

“Hmm...oh! Sweetie, I think it might be the cornstarch. It sinks to the bottom of the pan if you don’t add baking soda- did you add baking soda?”

Steve glances at the forgotten unopened box of baking soda leaned against the stoves backsplash. He slaps himself mentally.

“Um, no. No i did not do that.”

“Well then, that’s it! You simply forgot a key ingredient is all. Not a big deal in the slightest.” Ms. Henderson was always very sweet to steve. Maybe because Dustin had become a little brother to him, but she never ever made him feel dumb. Always assured him mistakes are simply human.

“Right, right, yeah. I’ll add that. Thank you Ms. Henderson.” Steve goes to run a hand through his hair but is met with the headband pulling Steve’s hair from his eyes.

“Its Claudia sweetie, you know that.” Steve could hear the smile in her voice. She makes him feel better.

She gave a few more tips, how just white sugar might dry out the cake when used too much and using brown sugar will make the cake’s texture fluffier. He thanks her and hangs up with a sigh. Back to work.

He follows each step meticulously, following Claudia’s directions to a T and slips it into the oven; prays to god that this will be the last time he tries this. He’s only got one egg left and the overly sweet assortment of smells is starting to make him nauseous. After 45 excruciating minutes, Steve huffs and pulls out the cake. It looks... actually it looks like a cake. He smiles crookedly- holding his breath as he slips the cake onto the tray. It comes out in one piece, albeit lopsided, Steve whoops. He finally fucking did it- the cake actually looks like a confetti cake- and Steve is just so fucking proud of it, already going in to make the frosting before theres a ring at the door.

He frowns, wiping the flour on his watch head. It’s midnight- 12:07 am. Jesus christ, he started this at 7 pm, he didn’t even realize-

He hurries up to the door trying to wipe off the flour and make himself semi presentable. The door swings open and it’s Billy. He’s holding a six pack of Natural Light and a smirk that warps into a surprised raise of his eyebrows at Steve’s current state. He’s sure he must like he just ran a drug cartel or something.

“Hi, pretty boy.” Billy says as he walks in, checking Steve up and down. “Whats uh, whats up with your threads? Look like you jumped head first into coke or got real personal with Frosty the Snowman”

Stve rolls his eyes. His breath catches when he sees Billy start walking to the kitchen. He runs and blocks Billy in the doorway.

“You can’t go in there.”

Billy frowns, “What, you actually got drugs in there or somethin’?”

“No- you just- you can’t go in there. Not allowed.”

“Cmon baby whatcha got in there?” Billy starts to nudge past him; never was good at waiting.

“Wait, no- Billy- don’t-“

Billy takes in the state of the kitchen with a confused look and low whistle before his eyes land on the unfrosted confetti cake sitting on the kitchen island in all it’s lopsided glory. He freezes.

Steve waddles up behind him; following his gaze as he chews on his lip.

“I’m sorry, didn’t have time to make the frosting. Wanted it to be a surprise.” Steve scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly.

Billy’s still just standing there, and for a moment Steve is afraid he overstepped. That he was hijacking a moment from Billy’s mom that was only okay to do if she did it. He tries to get a read on Billy from his side profile since Billy is only turned slightly towards him but he can’t. A few more seconds of Billy standing there- and what Steve hopes is stunned silence- before Billy quietly murmurs,

“You made me a confetti cake?”

Steve holds his breath after a strained little, “Yeah.” The unshed tears from earlier are threatening to fall again, “You said you loved confetti cake, and that it made you happy. Wanted to make you happy.”

Billy spins on his heel fast, catching Steve’s face in his hands and lips with his own. Steve’s heart bursts and jerks a little with the surprise. It’s a chaste thing, just a press of lips, before Billy pulls away.

“You’re so... you just...” Billy trailed off and it was, like, a huge thing for Steve in that moment. Billy? Speechless? Steve never thought he’d see the day. It makes his face heat but his heart full and he beams.

“I’m... what?” He draws out.

“Fuckin’- somethin’. You’re somethin’ else.” Billy tugs him in by the waist and uses the other hand to swipe at the flour on Steve’s cheek. He looks so goddamn fond it makes Steve’s heart rate skyrocket.

“Is it okay?”

Billy hums, “It’s so okay. So much better than okay.”

He presses sweet little kisses to Steve’s lips and Steve can’t stop smiling.

“Well,” he says between pecks, “I wanted to do something special.”

Billy hums again, kisses trailing pepper like to his cheeks, his forehead, his nose and now down his neck.

Steve fights down the urge to shiver as he wraps his arms around the other’s shoulders. But-then he feels a wetness at the crook of his neck and makes a soft concerned noise at the back off his throat. He tugs Billy gently off and is met with blue, glassy eyes. Billy was tearing up.

“Thank you.” Billy says wetly, gently, before hugging Steve tight. “God- i- thank you.”

Steve smiles sweetly, hands going into Billy’s hair. He doesn’t ask because he doesn’t need to. Knows that this is Billy being happy, knows that this isn’t bad, knows Billy. Loves Billy.

Steve pokes Billy’s sides- grins, “Happy birthday, baby.” And punctuates it with a kiss.

[ancanosaur]

Subscorp shorts: how to put a drunk cryomancer to bed.

I wanted to write something soft for these two and mark some of my subscorp requests off my list lmao. I have this headcanon that Kuai is a really lovey dovey drunk. This is also pre-relationship!

🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥

Hanzo had to admit, he had a lot of patience. More than anyone really gives him credit for. But he wasn't a saint, so his patience wasnt an endless river. It was more of a well, and at the moment it was slowly beginning to run dry and the rain wasnt coming any time soon.

"You should be greatful our rivalry is something far in the past, Kuai Liang." The Shirai Ryu let out a heated huff, his breath scorching hot in the freezing winter air.

Kuai was leaning against the shorter ninja as he aided him in walking up the temple steps. One foot after the other. "I was gaining us both allies." Kuai said, the normly well put together grandmaster sluring his words as Hanzo pushed open the heavy door with a slow kick as he held one of Kuai's arms over his shoulders, keeping the man on his feet.

"We already have special forces as allies, Cage was just wanting to make a mess of you." He rolled his eyes as they made it through the quiet halls of the Lin Kuei temple, getting closer to Kuai's private quarters. "Id thought you would be one to handle your liquor." The ninja said in a mildly sour tone. He had a few drinks with Kuai before and the cryomancer came out fine. Yet that time there was no Johnny cage and the rest of their friends demanding Kuai take 'just a few more shots.'

Oh how Hanzo will have a word with Johnny next time he is at the SF base about this. And he damn well better not be letting Takeda drink himself stupid while under his watch.

But that was an itch to scratch later. At the moment he was dealing with a very drunk subzero and is going to have to put this grown man to sleep-

"You're so warm."

Hanzo stopped in his tracks, kuai taking just one extra step once he realized the other had stopped. "What?" He looked at the grandmaster. "You feel so warm." Kuai repeated as he looked at Hanzo, ghostly blue eyes glazed over in a drunken state, yet he gave the other man a grntle smirk.

Hanzo scoffed at the other, shaking his head. "You truly are drunk, Kuai." But then he felt the gentle touch of calloused fingers drawing circles and shapes on the bare skin of his upper arm, making his cheeks gain some heat.

"Your skin is so warm and golden." Kuai continued, his voice carried an air of genuine care to it as he spoke to Hanzo. His cheeks having a bit of color to them in his intoxicated state as he gave Hanzo a crooked smile.

Hanzo didnt know how to respond, and he was praying that Kuai couldn't feel how fast his heart was starting to beat. "It's hell fire. It burns within me." The older spoke in a soft tone as he stood there, Kuai's arm still around his shoulder, drawing random shapes on his upper arm, if Hanzo didnt know better he would assume Kuai was writting a letter on his flesh.

The two stood there for just a second, looking at one another before Kuai spoke. "You are so beautiful..." he said in an almost dreamy tone. Hanzo looked away as soon as he could, tugging Kuai along to begin walking again. "You and Johnny are not to drink together again." He swallowed, finally making it to the Grandmaster's quarters. Heart beating like a drum at this point.

Hanzo sat Kuai on the large bed, confident that none of his students spotted their grandmaster in such a drunken state, being practically carried by the other.

Once Kuai was no longer attached to his hip, Hanzo gave a sigh, looking down at the other man who was sitting on his bed, looking up at Hanzo with such a soft look in his eye. But Hanzo was able to pull himself away from those haunting blue eyes and their unnatural hue. "I will inform the cooks to give you a light breakfast in the morning, but for now i can bring you a glass of water."

Before Hanzo could even turn around Kuai grabbed each of his hands, holding them gently in his grasp, looking down at them. Hanzo just watched, heat gathering in his face. He was thankful for the darkness.

Kuai ran his thumbs over the palms of Hanzo's open hands as if trying to read the history behind the light scaring on his flesh and the creases of his grip.

"There is more than hell fire that warms you, Hanzo." Kuai said, eyes raising up to look at the other. Hanzo forgot to breath for a moment after that, unsure of what kind of riddle Kuai was working up. "I...did not take you for a palm reader, Kuai." Hanzo's voice was only a whisper of it's usually tone. Kuai Liang sure did know how to take down Hanzo's walls at will.

Kuai didnt reply. He simply turned Hanzo's hands over, placing a gentle kiss at his knuckles, his beard tickling his skin. "Your heart burns hotter than any fire." He breathed against his skin, before standing up.

He was a bit off balance as he stood an inch or two taller than Hanzo as he let go of Hanzo's warm hands, looking down at the ninja with such care in his sky orbs.

Hanzo wasnt able to speak nor react, he was having to remind himself to breath as he looked up at the slightly taller man. The ghostly feeling of his soft lips still on his knuckles as he searched Kuai's face for a sign of he next move as his heart beat against his ribs.

Kuai gave no sudden movements, he slowly and gently brought up a large hand to cup the back of Hanzo's neck, enjoying the touch of Hanzo's soft raven locks as he leaned over just a bit.

Hanzo closed his eyes, preparing for Kuai to kiss him, preparing for a wet mouth tasting of fire whiskey.

But it never came.

Instead a sweet and tender kiss was placed onto Hanzo's forehead. Hanzo fluttered his eyes open, feeling the heat of deep feelings for Kuai.

His grip on Hanzo's neck was gentle, it would be easy for Hanzo to slimply pull away from him, yet Hanzo stayed put. All the kisses and touches werent overshadowed by the hints of Kuai wanting Hanzo to get into bed with him. They were soft and easing, deeply rooted in purly showing affection and care.

Kuai pulled away from Hanzo, moving his hand to hold onto his upper arm, index finger once again drawing shapes onto his warm skin.

"Sleep well Hanzo." The Lin Kuei said in a hushed whisper, the alcohol obviously bidding him to sleep now as he finally pulled away. Sitting on the large frame bed before laying down on it.

Hanzo left Kuai to it. His heart was singing, his whole body felt hot and feverish as he retired to the guest room he would stay at for the night.

Hanzo took his time undressing playing the events over and over in his head. Hanzo hadnt been touched and handled with such care in...elder gods, years.

He pulled his charcoal grey sleeping pants up, tying the waist string before he sat on the bed. Kuai really was a man pure of heart. Even in such a drunken state, he still just wanted a simple kiss goodnight. Hanzo thought about the feeling of his lips on his forehead as he pulled his long hair free from his bun, letting it flow a few inches passed his shoulders as he ran his fingers through it.

It all started with those gentle touches to his shoulder. Hanzo's finger started touch that same place on his upper arm, surprised to feel a chill there, making him quickly look to his arm.

His skin was drawn over with in frost. Characters. Hanzo gave the writting a gentle trace, trying to make out what it ment, quicy remembering his Chinese was quite rough and years out of practice. Perhaps it was a sigil of some sort. Maybe a secret message that Kuai wished to tell him.

Hanzo quickly made his way to the simple desk in the corner of the room, finding an pen and a bit of parchment. His fingers almoat shaking as he copied the characters to the best of his abilities. Silently thanking his father for being so strict on him about his hand writing in his youth.

Morning came and Hanzo had awaken to breakfast with Kuai and the rest of the Lin Kuei. The ex wraith felt a bit nervous about seeing Kuai after the events of last night. But when Kuai greeted him normally, he felt a bit of disappointment sting at his heart.

Sure it may have caused a bit of awkward tension between the two. But Hanzo enjoyed the touches of last night, he may have even welcomed more if Kuai didnt pass out on him.

But at the same time he was relieved, each halfs of his heart were playing a vicious game of tuck of war with one another. One wanting to stay loyal to his long dead wife, the other wanting so desperately to be touched and loved by another.

Perhaps it was best that Kuai was drunk enough that no memory plagued him. Hanzo wouldnt want to pull him into his own misery of confusion.

Hanzo looked up at Kuai, the man drinking herbal tea to aid his head ache, when he remembered the writing, feeling the ripped peice of parchment in his pocket. "Kuai, i was wonder if perhaps you could translate something for me?" Hanzo asked in a soft tone, not wanting to add to the ach in Kuai's head.

Kuai looked up at Hanzo, curiosity in his eyes. "Perhaps." He mused. Once his answer was given he watched as Hanzo reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded sheet of paper, and gently unraveled it.

"This." The ninja slid the paper over to Kuai, watching as the grandmaster's cheeks gained a bit of color as he eyed the familiar characters written down. "萤火虫"

"Yínghuǒchóng" Kuai said in a warm tone yet a slight taste of nervousness was on his tongue. 'It wasn't a dream then...' he thought to himself as he gave a gentle chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. Hanzo looked over at him, his own cheeks gaining a rose hue once Kuai gave him an answer.

"Firefly."

❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄🔥❄

Big soft men in love is my jam. Also i dont speak a single sentence of chinese and i used a translator for this. So if it's wrong let me know!

Please forgive and grammar/spelling mistakes!

-Onyx♤

[chimbu617]

A HTTYD Micro Memoir of the Past Ten Years

     It was 2010. I was 8. I just moved to a new town and as someone who was bad at trying to talk to people, I spent all my free time in my imagination and/or with my brother. He was my best friend and we did everything together.      My parents weren't big on going to theaters especially with an 8 and 12-year-old. So whenever we watched the newest, latest movie it was always through Red Box, they somehow always got for free. They rented two movies. I don't remember how they picked them out, if it was their or mine and my brother's choice. One night, after dinner, they popped in a disc and played the movie for us. I vividly remember how I felt sitting in our faux leather couch, cuddled up with a blanket in a dark room, focused on the movie.      The camera swoops in over a vast ocean in the dead of night. Pillers of stone carvings extruded out of the water with fire burning inside the mouths. In the distance, a beautiful island inhabited with wooden shacks. Small specs of fire can be seen in the village. Over this is a voice-over by the lead character, "This is Berk." A line that will follow me throughout the next 10 years of my life.      I spent the rest of that year dreaming of owning a terrible terror and have a friend to explore my world with. Of course, that was virtually impossible. Jump to 2012. I was 11. The first episode of Dragons: Riders of Berk aired. My brother and I begged our parents to record the series and we watched it religiously. We jumped into my bed turned on my tv and grew immensely excited for this world we both developed a love for.      I remember how I watched Heather first be introduced and immediately hating her character from the moment she was on screen. I created a self insert character where "I" washed up onto berk after a shipwreck with amnesia. I always thought that Heather stole my premise and then ruined it by betraying the main characters. I now enjoy her character and look back on my childish foolishness.      I guess my mom at some point stopped recording the show after my brother moved out and I grew out of the show, but not the fandom. 2013, I was 12 and just started 7th grade. The teaser trailer of the second movie came out and I watched it with awe. I was conflicted by the redesign of Hiccup yet I probably watched that trailer more times than I could count. I met my best friend and we both spent our time in science class drawing. She convinced me to start drawing actually. I spent that time drawing and watching crack compilations for Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons.      I never stopped my love for the world despite not having a lot of content to fill in the void in my heart. I ended up teaching myself Viking/Celtic runes, so I could read the text in the movie and show. It was 2014 when I taught one of my friends in my 8th grade English class the runes so we could pass notes in class. We wrote notes that absolutely made no sense but had so much fun knowing that we were the only ones who understood it. Our teacher caught us passing the note and took it from us. The look on her face was priceless. She looked frustrated and confused. She gave us a baffled look and continued on with class without a word.      I wasn't able to watch the second movie in the theater either. I ended up pirating it off some streaming site. I laughed and cried. At his death, my parents came in to ask if I was ok.      Several weeks after my 14th birthday in 2015, Race to the Edge's first season was released onto Netflix. I ended up binging all of Riders of Berk and Defenders of Berks in a few nights. I cried when I saw Stoick alive again and revived my undying love for this franchise.      January of 2016, my brother called me and asked if I had seen the new season of Race to the Edge. I ended up watching only a few episodes before falling out of interest in the series.     In December of 2017, I decided to catch up with the show. I would wake up, go to school, go home, did homework, binge as many episodes as I could and repeat. Soon after I finished it was 2018 and the new and last season was released. I had my friend come over to spend the night and I straight up said "Sorry, but I want to watch this" and she had to sit there and watch the show without any context of prior seasons. For Halloween that year that same friend and I ended up dressing up as Hiccup and Jack Frost. My mom gave me a stuffed toothless she was holding for Christmas for my costume. Some older lady told me she liked my plush cat.      When I found out about The Hidden World coming out my friend group and I decided to go see it in theaters. I accidentally overslept that day and rushed to the theaters where my friends were waiting. One of them ended up buying a ticket for me, refusing to accept my money when I offered to pay him back. There aren't words to describe my emotions in those few seconds the Dreamworks logo played. I was excited at being able to finally see one of the movies in the franchise in theaters. Although I started to feel my heart being pulled apart by tiny strings attached to the muscle. I then realized in that small amount of time that, this was it. This was the end. No more. That everything I watched, learned, waited for was for this moment. The dragon classes and types I learned, the runes I used, the music I would close my eyes to and imagine I was in a different world, and the reality in front of me ever since I was a child that I could never live in this world. It was all in front of me.      The movie played, and sure I laughed at Tuff, watched in awe at the beautiful plant and sand animation, cried at their parting, and rejoiced at their reunion. As I left the theaters though I couldn't help but think, "It was better than expected but not as good as I hoped". Whenever someone asked me my thoughts of the movie I would tell them those exact words. Looking back now, I don't know what I hoped for it to be. A happier ending? No, I came into this expecting the loss of dragons. A more interesting villain? I can't think of any better villain for the context of the scenario. I left it as such. I hoped for better yet knew not of what I hoped for.     It was winter break in 2019 and I left my dorm to go home and visit my family. The first night I was back my mom said she recorded something for me. I sat in the recliner as my cat snuggled into my lap and my mom started up Homecoming. I appreciated the fact that my parents haven't seen the second or third movie, yet sat through Homecoming with no context for me. This last Thursday, the 19th of March, I was working on my theater assignment mid-quarantine and randomly had the desire to watch Ratatouille. As I finished the film it reminded me of How to Train Your Dragon. With the whole human and animal bond that overcomes the differences between the two species to work together. I ended up wanting to watch the film again. As I watched it, I thought to myself, just the first movie, right? As I started The Hidden World, I thought to myself, just the movies, right? As I started Riders of Berk, I thought to myself, just the pre-time skip series, right? As I started Race to the Edge, I thought to myself, I need to drop my Biology course since I'm gonna fail.      When I rewatched the third movie all my original doubts on the film vanished. At the end when Hiccup decided to let Toothless go, I didn't cry. But, when Hiccup tells us, the viewer, that dragons were waiting for us to get along, I sobbed, more than I did any other time watching the entire series in the last 10 years. I realized two completely separate things. We as humans will never earn the right to have dragons, as we will never get our crap together. We are filled with corrupted morals and mindsets and will ruin everything and anything we get ahold of. The second thing was something I experienced earlier. Though I was afraid of the end I was so used to things claiming to be over and then the creators ending up making more for a cash grab. In that moment of watching 30-year-old Hiccup throw his son into the air, I realized that this was it. This was the end. The end of the movie, the end of the story, and the end of a large part of my childhood.      When I graduated high school I cried in my car after our practice run. I was growing up and I would have to be leaving everything I had known until then behind. It was Troll Hunters a series I started before I moved into my dorm that helped me calm down and move into a new place. It helped me understand that I can't just change and leave what I love behind. I can take it with me beyond this line I drew myself. The past few days changed that though. I couldn't take my beloved world across the line with me. It will forever be chained into my past as something I can look back on yet have no expectations for any future with it. I cried because there was nothing in my hands that I could do to keep what I loved with me. But, with Stoick's words "With love comes loss, that's part of the deal. Sometimes it hurts, but in the end, it's all worth it."      Thank you How to Train Your Dragon. You have given me so much. More than I could say. More than I know. We have grown up together, but now it's time for both of us to move on. Time for me to let you go.

Whoever stuck around until the end, thank you. I felt I had to write this as my fingers were itching for it. This is just a first draft but I doubt I’m ever coming back to this. I wanted to do something for the anniversary but like I said I didnt start getting back into httyd until the last 2 weeks and I just found out. I wrote this in like 2-3 hours, and I’m suprised at myself for powering through it. I’m still working on writing personal memoir pieces so excuse my skills. Anyways thank you again and Happy Ten Year Anniversary HTTYD!

[jellyfishdooter]

LISTEN

I HAVE VERY LOW IMPULSE CONTROL

In spite of the current community fire I give you this Rise of the Guardians AU

Character explanations/ mini story under the cut

So after watching Rise of the Guardians (one of my fav animated movies) I got the idea for an AU where the egos are like the Guardians of the JSE community.

Their designs are based off/ inspired by the characters in the movie but instead of just drawing the egos as those characters, I more so let them inspire re-creations of their outfits/ powers

Chase: Jack Frost- Guardian of Family

In the beginning he doesn’t see himself as a guardian. He’s a screw up, a washout. But even through his depression he tries to make others happy before himself. He does this by having fun and trying to get those in the community to join in with him! It’s later on that he realizes he has a part to play and that his is making sure everyone is still together as one big community. He’s here to remind us that in troubling times that we all have each other- that we’re all family.

JBM: Santa- Guardian of Hope

Being the super hero of the group, it’s JBM’s job to protect the innocent and give off the appearance of being something people can depend upon- someone who can protect everyone from danger. He helps the community become strong and makes them laugh along the way (even if he has to make a fool of himself to do it, he loves our smiles)- he gives them hope.

Marvin: Tooth Fairy- Guardian of Creativity (Sams: small Tooth Fairies)

Much like tooth fairy in the movie, it’s Marvin’s job to collect fanart/ fanworks and store them so when the community forgets all that they have built together, he shows them. Not only that, he inspires the content creators and represents their passion for their art. And it’s what he protects. (Along with the help of the little Sams who are the ones who actually collects and re-distributes it so everyone can see what they’ve made.)

Jameson: Sandman- Guardian of Positivity

Arguably one of the most important guardians of the community, JJ is there to remind people the importance of PMA. In his own quiet ways, he encourages the members to think on the bright side- or is just there to give hugs and be there for them. Whenever someone is in such a dark place, he uses his powers to show them that they still have so much potential and that they’re not alone. He give them a light in a dark place to hold onto. (Yes, he uses sign language AND the sand symbols for those who don’t understand sign)

Schneep: Bunny- Guardian of Health

Being the good doctor of the group, he’s there to remind the community to take care of themselves. Yes he may be a lil aggressive in the way he gives out advice, but for a lot of people they need their butts a little kicks to get them moving to help themselves. But not only physical health, he’s also willing to sit down and talk about mental health and analyze what the problem is/ works to help you understand how to improve yourself.

Anti: The Boogieman- “Guardian” of Fear and Chaos

And last but not least, our dear little firestarter. For so LONG he’s waited, waited to be in the spotlight. Before the other egos show up it was just him and it was delicious. He had so much power as he fed off of our fears, insecurities, and of course the headcanons and theories we made about him. But then Jack HAD to make more egos and fill the community with positivity and light. So he sunk back and waited for his opportunity- he waited for his powers to grow strong in the background. And with all of the hints being dropped and community fueling the fire in a continuous positive feedback loop, he gains more and more strength every day. He reminds the community not everything is peachy and rosy. That there are awful things in the world and how you’re just a tiny ripple in a storming ocean. Insignificant. He doesn’t want to stamp out the community- that would be counterproductive. No he just wants them to feel fear for the channel- that nothing is safe anymore- at any turn he could be there. And with that everything always comes back to him.

And sooner or later, the others will fade away...

Extra Headcanons/ Tidbits:

Before they were all guardians they were other people. (TW: death and suicide mentions) -Anti was a reckless criminal and one night his “friends” betrayed him, leaving him behind which wound up being the end of him. They were running from the police and were trying to jump a tall fence when his comrades left the struggling man behind to take the fall. He did in more ways than one. -JBM was just a regular dude, but he sacrificed himself to save a kid getting hit by a bus in the city. Even though he was about to die he kept asking if the kid was okay. The medics told him he saved them and that’s all he needed to hear. -Marvin was a street magician in his time. He did tricks to cheer up people sitting on the sidewalk/ sitting alone and talked to them about their passions. Later the same people would come back and tell him about the new job they got or the current project they were working on. He pulled a teen off the side of a bridge and a local cop mistook it for him attacking her and.. well.. things escalated quickly -Henrik was an upstanding surgeon. He saved lives every day in his career. Even though his wife and child left him, he worked every day to become a better doctor and continued to save people. And after the surgeries he would personally counsel the patients to make sure they were okay physically and mentally. But one day.. they didn’t have a matching organ for the patient on standby.. and he knew he matched the credentials. -Jameson was a small movie star in his time. And when he wasn’t filming he went down in quiet to lift the spirits of homeless children and teens. He would put on small performances and then go around to each of them and comfort them if they said it was okay. He made sure by the end of his visit they were all in high spirit. But one day the filming studio caught fire. The smoke damaged his lungs so he couldn’t call out before the building collapsed. -And Chase... He had a loving wife and two kids who he cared for with his life. He vowed to himself to protect them, even though his wife turned into a bitch as the years went on. One night they were walking home from a day at the amusement park and Chase got jumped with his kids nearby. The criminal threatened to kill the kids if Chase didn’t comply. So to protect them, he did as the criminal said, handing over his wallet and watch and phone. And when the criminal was about to kill one of them anyway, instinct took over and Chase knocked the man down and knocked him out- but when he fell the gun went off

The lights on the globe are the septiclights, each one representing a person in the community

Instead of holidays, the guardians help in the background of charity livestreams and videos to give them that little extra spark.

Sean is the equivalent of the Man in the Moon

The extra fan-made egos (like Robbie, Shawn, Angus, and Bing) are still around, they just aren’t the big guardians.

If they were tho... Robbie- Guardian of Innocence, Shawn- Guardian of Voice, Angus- Guardian of... idk, Protection? Or maybe head cannons lol, Bing- Guardian of Online Connections

When too much of the community becomes afraid/ depressed, the guardian’s form changes (like in the movie) before they disappear -JBM: Becomes weaker, probably needs his glasses to see again, basically turned into a comicbook nerd -Marvin: Loses a lot of his color, magic goes away, turns into a cat? -Henrik: Hands continuously shake, gains a stutter so people can hardly understand him, becomes super paranoid/ closed off -JJ: His colors fade to black and white, it’s really hard to summon his powers, always about to cry/ wants to scream -Chase: Goes into a low state of depression, isolates himself a lot -Anti: His bravado diminishes- basically turns into an edgy teen with spasms instead of actual glitches, wound on his neck closes.

Like in the movie there’s a point where Anti takes over (like right now) and everyone’s powers start to fade

To make this angsty(er) he manages to kill JJ and he disappears, along with the light of positivity in the community.

Chase blames himself for not being fast enough to save him

To turn thing around Henrik suggests a charity livestream to promote a mental health organization. So they all work together to prep

A young community member somehow gets into Henrik’s realm

Memes and shenanigans ensue

“We spend all our time trying to protect the community, we don’t HAVE TIME-... for the community..?”

Chase runs off after young familiar voices calling out for their daddy

Chase ends up in Anti’s realm of fear(the opening is in the woods under an abandoned computer desk). It’s a series of twisted hallways bathed in red light and entire walls of glitching computer screens that cast weird shadows

When Chase gets out he realizes all the equipment is destroyed and he wasn’t there to help

Henrik blames Chase and sad dad runs off.

The community is plunged into a state of fire and fear and there’s no positivity anywhere to be found.

Except one last light...

A fan is talking to a Sam plushie, saying that yeah they understand why the stream COULD have been cancelled.. but everything in their life is just so dark they were really looking forward to it.

Chase finds them and uses his powers to make images of septic lights and funny moments in Jack’s videos

They realize it’s Chase who’s doing it and can see him

All the egos fight Anti with the help of a few community members beside them- giving them power to fight back.

The members bring back JJ

JJ kicks the ever living shit out of Anti with the help of the others beside him Okay I think I’ll stop here XD If you read all this... wowie!

[jestself]

Your OCs are super cool!!!!! Are you planning to draw Ayako again any time soon?

OH YEAH!!! tbh im still trying to figure out what species i want them to be 😭 im either gonna go with either some type of angel or some type of imp bc yuugures an imp and i wanna spread out how many variants of species exist 💔 (kunikos a banshee but her moms a frost elf while her dads a werebeast AND her grandmas a jorogumo SNDHJDHDND SORRY i love infodropping bc i am too lazy to include it in their art) BUT ALSO??????? ayakos supposed to represent if not be the definition of like.... brightness and light? like the light at the end of the tunnel?? so i guess by that theyd fit into being maybe even a guardian angel? ((DAMN TBH JUST REALIZED THEM BEING A CONCEALED SERAPHIM WOULD BE KINDA COOL..... 😳😳😳😳😳 can serpahims conceal themselves in humanoid forms????? fuck it i say they can therefore they can))

BASICALLY TL;DR IG I DIDNT REALLY KNOW WHAT SPEICIES TO MAKE THEM BUT IM. HIGHKEY NOW SET ON SERAPHIM BC DAMN...... THATS ACTUALLY REALLY BADASS

[kpurereactions]

When Stars Align | Part 1

A/N alrighty, after writing something new, not liking it, fixing it and writing it again i present to you my second fic. Im really excited about this one and I hope you guys will be too, theres gonna be a lot of drama I'm winking  So, without further ado, When Stars Align. 

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Rating: Drama, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

You felt like it had been hours since you last touched ground, and it had been. It was your official first day of summer break and you spent it flying from your home to your best friends. The two of you had been extremely close since freshman year when you were thrown into a random roommate draw, and you definitely got lucky. She was your other half, and like promised that first night of your freshman year, if you had made it this far the two of you would vacation together the summer before your senior year. 

The flight to Chicago went easier that you thought it would. No stops along the way and you got the window seat. You had only been away from your best friend for maybe 48 hours, but still it felt like a life time and a half and there was nothing more you wanted at that point in time than to touch down and run into her arms. You weren't usually one to get excited over small things, especially things like seeing someone after a short period of time, your childhood proved that none stays forever, but she was able to pull that out of you. 

You couldn't walk fast enough once off the plane, your backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder and your hands quickly rolling up your headphones. The moment your phone was turned on you started to respond to your friends texts, typing just as fast as you were walking and only looking up to make sure you were still heading in the right direction. You could see it, the exit to baggage claim right in front of you. Your step quickened and your eyes looked back down, typing quickly and in all caps to count down the seconds till you were reunited. 

And then your shoulder hit someone. Your bag hitting the floor you grunted, your eyes not even looking up as you apologized and reached for your bag. You stumbled down only to have it snatched up before you could reach it. 

“Im sorry, I should probably look at where I'm going.” You said, your eyes only leaving your bag after finishing your sentence. 

“Don't worry about it, we've all done it.” 

Your eyes trailed up to the boy in front of you you with a kiddish grin and tick sunglasses covering half his face. Your heart lurched causing you to cough and reach out for your bag. There was something different about that boy. Not different in the way he was strange, but different in the way that he didnt seem like a stranger. You pressed your lips together and looked up at him, nodding your head once before taking your bag from his grip, your fingers brushing slightly making you're spine tingle. You coughed again fully taking the bag from his hands and turned to walk even faster out of the closed off section you were in, your heart now beating a million miles per hour.

You could hardly breath as you were engulfed in the arms of your best friend your mind instantly snapped in one direction. You rocked back and fourth, squealing and not caring who heard you, or which eyes were sent your way. As you pulled away from her your eyes caught his again, slightly peeking out from behind the frosted sliding doors. He retracted the moment you noticed him and  you couldn't help the feeling in your kneecaps that seemed to ache when you saw him. It was strange, but before you could truly think about it you were being pulled away by your best friend. 

You sat there with your head in your tiny hands, kids around you laughing, kicking dirt in your direction and calling you names. It had been like that every day since you had moved to South Korea and every day you cried to your dad to take you home, take you back to where your life started. You were too different for the kids of South Korea. Your face was too thin, your eyes too round and your hair? Well don't get them started on how different your hair was. 

It was one day in particular you remember the most about being in South Korea, the day that changed the way you saw that city and the reason why you never wanted to leave. 

You were on the ground, your knee bleeding as one of the usual girls who was mean to you pushed you over. You could hardly understand what she was saying as she teased and taunted you in Korean, the only thing you could focus on was the trickle of blood running down your leg and meeting the top of your sock. You kept your eyes down, but could still see her loafers walk up to you and her hand reach down to grab your backpack, still talking to fast for you to understand. You jumped slightly as your books pens and your lunchbox hit the ground in front of you. 

You choked back a tear as the girl and her friends laughed when she pushed you on your back, you just wanted to go home. The tears started just as a voice was called out and you opened your eyes to see a young boy running towards you. He was dorky, running like something out of a comic book, but still running your way. You sat up instantly as he got in the girls face and started yell, growling noises coming as he talked quickly. The girls scoffed at him once before looking at you, one kicking a book before they walked away. 

He helped you up and looked at you with sad eyes before holding his hand straight out, waiting for you to take it.

‘What are you? A monster?’ You whispered half in english as you wiped your hands and shirt free of dirt. 

‘Im Namjoon.’ He said slowly, waiting as you nodded to indicate that you understood what he was he had said. 

‘Y/n.’ You said softly. ‘You have a funny name.’ You said after trying to say his name in your head a few times and not being able to. 

He looked down to your knee and pressed his lips together before throwing his small arm over your shoulder and making you walk forward. 

‘Well were friends know so you're going to have to use my name.’ He said still looking at your knee. 

You nodded and stopped, bending down wipe the dirt out of your bleeding knee and trying not to cry at the sting that erupted at your touch. His knees where soon bending with yours as he started pushing a tissue to your leg. You watched as he concentrated on cleaning up your leg, mumbling things about the girls who had pushed you, growling in a way once again when you asked him why he was acting that way.

‘Those girls are so mean. Well, don't worry. There not going to be mean to you any more. Im going to make sure of that.’

You were so lost in thought as your friend rambled on about this and that you hadn't even realized you were puling up outside her house. Shaking your head you got excited again, grabbing your bags out of the back seat and linking your arm with hers as she pulled you towards the front door. You were welcomed excitedly by her parents and was immediately sat down to eat. Something you expected from her mother, but was always surprised by. 

“Okay, y/n. I have a surprise.” Your friend said tapping the table a few quick times as her mother started to clear the table.

“Ooo I love surprises.” You said leaning on your elbows. 

A chuckle came from you as she stood quickly, holding a finger for you to wait as she dashed out of the kitchen. Sitting there awkwardly you didn't know what to do since your friends mom refused your help with the dishes. But thankfully the sound of your friends running made you perk back up as she quickly sat across from you again, now clutching onto a white envelope. 

“So I figured since you know, were here for a few weeks before we run off to vacation that we would need something to do, right?” She started, placing the envelope on the table and running her excited fingers over it. “So. That one band you know I love so much is coming to Chicago in a few days so I thought you and I could go together.” 

“Are you asking me on a date?” You asked smiling, getting excited to be able to do something so fun with her. 

“Yes, yes this is a date, were going to see Bts for our date!” She squealed reaching for your hands.

You were excited, even if you knew next to nothing about these boys you did enjoy their music, and you always loved to tease your friend on just how excited she got about the boys. As the two of you crawled into bed that night and cuddled close she started flipping threw pictures, telling you thinks about each boy in turn. You smiled at Jimin, snorted at Taehyung and awed at Jin. She continued to flip until she landed on a familiar face. You took her phone from her and stared at his face, his dimples making you feel like you knew him. 

“Why is he so familiar?” You said zooming in the picture. 

“Hes familiar because he's a god damn Rap Monster.” She said chuckling and flipping through more pictures. 

You chuckled and shook your head rolling to your back, your eyes getting heavy  as you listened to her softly continue to talk about the boys, but as you fell asleep you started to think about the boy you ran into at the airport and how he also seemed to hold this same presence about him.

[maraschinotopped]

i didnt actually realize at the time when i was drawing the new cookie that the pink was candle wax and not frosting but now i just draw her with pink frosting