#may we enter the new year with good blessings and hope for a better one 👍🏼

[lunarlianna]

Jupiter transit

Jupiter enters the fixed sign Taurus on 16 of May and will remain there until 25 May 2024 when it will make its movement into Gemini. Jupiter is the planet of luck, expansion, optimism and spirituality. Taurus is a fixed earth sign that represent stability, steady growth, fertility and like to experience the world through the 5 senses. With Jupiter here we can expect embracing a slower pace in our everyday life, realizing that we need to take care of ourself and our bodies. Since Taurus it’s related to finances we can expect growth on the financial market, especially in June when Jupiter will join Uranus, on the negative note a rise in inflation and taxes is also possible. The shadow side of Jupiter in Taurus it’s insatiable desires, overindulging and greed. We need to practice grounding and mindfulness in order to don’t fall on the shadow side of this transit.

Quite beneficial this transit will be to all Taurus personal placements and happy Jupiter return for those that have a natal Jupiter in Taurus, this year will be very abundant.

Right after it’s movement in Taurus, Jupiter will make a square with Pluto on the 17 of May and on 22 of may a square with Mars but more on this on the following days. This is how each rising sign can receive blessings from Jupiter in the following year.  

 Aries rising: with Jupiter transiting your 2nd house of wealth, material possession and self-worth, you can have a confidence boost and financial gains for the following year. Some of you may receive a raise or a promotion. Be careful on overspending and put some money away for the rainy days.

Taurus rising: this transit will happen in your 1st house of self, you’ll receive a boost in your optimism, self-confidence and you may start to be more generous with those around you. You may have the opportunity to relive events that happen in 2011-2012. Some of you may have the tendency to overindulge in food, be mindful about it.

Gemini rising: 12th house of spirituality and hidden things it’s activated with this transit, you may have the tendency to be a bit more introverted and you’ll discover any spiritual gifts that you have. For most of you it’s a good time to let go of any type of addiction that you may have. Meditation, yoga and other spiritual practices and highlighted during this time. Listen to your intuition during this time because it’ll help you overcome anything.

Cancer rising: this transit will highlight your 11th house of friendships and community, during this time you may notice a social growth. Most of you will meet with the right people at the right time which will help you in your future endeavours. You can start being less worried about the future and more hopeful about your dreams. Some of you may volunteer more and come up with new ways on how you can help the community.

Leo rising: your 10th house of public image and career it’s activated during this time, some of you may receive awards, recognition and even fame during this time. Most of you will experience professional growth, higher level of productivity and a better relationship with your colleagues and managers. It’s best to don’t shy away from the public eye and practice gratitude every day. A career changes it’s also possible especially when Jupiter will conj Uranus later on this transit.

Virgo rising: this transit will take place in your 9th house of higher learning, philosophy and travel, during this time you’ll see an expansion on opportunities to travel, settle legal issues or embark towards a spiritual journey. For some of you it’s a good time to return to school for either to finish a degree or start a new one.  Along your travels you may meet people that can help you rediscover the creativity that lies within you. Some of you may publish papers, books or articles and receive very good feedback.

Libra rising: 8th house of intimacy, transformation occult and shared resource gets activated during this transit. Some of you may start a healing journey of deep psychological issues and intimacy related problems that you may have. Others may see an increase in wealth from passive incomes or partner income. An interest in the occult will be quite high during this transit and a deep need for profound transformation.

Scorpio rising: this transit will activate your 7th house of relationships and partnerships. During this time, you may wish to deep the bond that you have with a current partner or meet a new one that can be a soulmate connection. Engagements, marriages and proposals are very likely. Business partnerships are also possible. It’s a time to understand who you are through someone else’s eyes and honour you. It’s best to don’t compromise and be truth to yourself.

Sagittarius rising: 6th house of health, pets and every day routine it’s activated during this time. You may be prone to start a new workout routine and eat healthier. If you had difficulties with an illness or with your health, during this time recovery and healing it’s easier to happen. Some of you may want to adopt a new pet, others may see an improvement on your current work or a change of job it’s also possible.

Capricorn rising: during this transit 5th house of creativity, romance and pleasures it’s activated make you want to have more fun and explore your creative side. You can benefit immensely if you follow your heart. Some of you may conceive a child or it’s easier to get pregnant during this time. Your imagination will be expanded and you may wish to take a new hobby. Some of you may get lucky in gambling games.

Aquarius rising: 4th house of family and home it’s activated during this time and with Uranus there, a change of homes it’s quite likely to happen or a change of countries as well. You may understand how your roots and family helped shape the person that you are today, some of you may reconnect with family member or heal the bonds that you have. For those that want to buy a new home or sell this it’s a very auspicious time.

Pisces rising: with Jupiter in your 3rd house of communication and siblings you can expect an increase optimism in matters related to short travel, education and relationship with the siblings. Some of you may be more chatty than usual and may wish to learn a new skill. Buying or selling vehicles it’s very auspicious during this transit. It’s a good time to start a podcast, write a book or simply just share your ideas and hopes with others.

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[traumacatholic]

Happy New Year everyone, I hope the new year is good to you!

That Thou wilt bless the crown of the coming year with Thy bounty, and quench the flames of discord, enmity and strife; that Thou wilt give us peace, perseverance, sincere love, and a virtuous disposition; we beg Thee, Lord, hear us and have mercy.

If 2023 has been a rough year for you, then I'm praying the new year is better for you.

If 2023 has been a good year for you, then I'm praying the same goodness carries on into the new year.

As much as 2023 has been a really difficult year for me, I'm very grateful for all of the people on here. The people that took their time to pray for me, to offer me support when I've been struggling with things. The people that have offered me friendship and care. Nothing I can do or say can ever really do justice to all of the support and care that people on here have shown me.

I hope that 2024 grants you the healing, love, and care that you need.

Under the read more is some other prayers for the start of a New Year

O Master, Lord our God, Fountain of life and immortality, the Creator of all things both visible and invisible, Who has appointed seasons and years by Thy power, and dost direct all things by Thy most-wise and all-gracious providence: We thank Thee for Thy compassions, which Thou hast poured out upon us during the passing time of our life, and we entreat Thee, O All-compassionate Lord! Bless the crown of the coming year with Thy goodness.  Preserve our civil authorities; multiply the days of their life in unalterable health, and grant them progress in every virtue.  Grant Thy good things from above unto Thy people: health and salvation, and good hastening in all things.  Deliver Thy Holy Church, this city, and every city and land from every evil circmstance, granting them peace and tranquility.  And count us worthy that we may always offer thanksgiving unto Thee, the Father Who is without beginning, together with Thine Only-begotten Son, and Thine All-holy and Lifegiving Spirit, God glorified in one essence, and that we may hymn Thy most-holy Name.  Glory to Thee, O God, our benefactor, unto the ages of ages.  Amen.

--------

O Lord our God, You are the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the Creator of time, existing before time and outside of time, the same yesterday, today and forever. You are the Pantocrator, the absolute Ruler who exercises sovereign authority over the entire universe and its laws. You are not limited by any natural events and occurrences, or by our action or inaction. The world is not driven by blind forces, but is governed wisely and lovingly by Your divine Providence.

You, O King and Master of the world, govern by Your almighty will the world You created as a captain governs his ship. We have nothing to be afraid of, as long as You are at the rudder. The very elements of nature obey You. Nothing happens by chance. What happens to us does not happen at random. Not a single hair from our heads falls to the ground without Your powerful will. We are in Your hands. What we are, whatever good we have in us, comes from You, the source of every goodness.

We ask You humbly, our Savior, as we enter this New Year of our salvation, to bless us all; to bless our endeavors, and everything we do. We ask You, O Lord, to bless the time You give us, that we may pass this new year of Your grace and the lifespan You have given us in repentance, forgiveness, patience, tolerance, peace, the fight against our passions, the practicing of the virtues, in doing Your will, not ours, and in accepting it cheerfully, without groaning or complaint.

Grant us, O Father Almighty, sincere faithfulness, wakeful preparedness and active witness, to be strong and grow in faith and love for You, and work diligently for the establishment of Your Kingdom, a Kingdom of peace and justice. Instill in us the longing for the establishment of Your heavenly Kingdom, a Kingdom of everlasting life, peace and joy.

We also beseech You, O Lord, to bless the entire world, and all Nations. Guide them to You, that they may come to know You, the only true God, and to do Your Holy Will. And protect, O Lord, Your Holy Church, everywhere, so that with one voice and one heart we may all praise and glorify Your most Holy and magnificent Name, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and forever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

[kimkaelyn]

kaelyn!! i am dropping by with some good music and new year wishes! 🎶🎉 thank you so much for being part of my 2023 🥹 i think you're so sweet!!

if i may ask!! 🥺 (pls feel free not to answer if uncomfy!!) how was 2023 for you? what’s a favourite thing (anything) you discovered this year? do you have any reflections from the past year? any resolutions for the next? 🥹

Oh my gosh, shotorus!!!! 🥹🥹🥹💗💗💗 thank you so much for your kind words. I am glad you were apart of my 2023 as well! Cheers to next year🥂

This is such a great question and it made me pause and think for a good while (I’m typing this out in my notes app lol) I haven’t reflected on my year yet so I’m doing it here.

I apologize for the length lmao.

Warning - mention of trauma (nothing graphic- literally just one line)

My 2023 was an interesting and exciting year, but also one of great challenges. Regardless, I am so proud of my accomplishments this year. I left my teen years behind and entered my twenties! Now I gotta figure out how to be an actual adult LMAO. On that note, I quit my toxic job of almost two years and was unemployed for a good two months until I started working at my current job. I traveled outside of the country for the first time. I spent 3 weeks in July with my Uncle traveling Europe. This trip was the highlight of my year for so so so so many reasons. It was also my first time leaving home and being separated from my parents for a long period of time.

Being away from home wasn’t as bad as I was scared it was going to be—I actually loved it. While on my trip, I learned so much about myself as a person and figured out what I want in life for myself. I actually learned how to think for myself instead of others this year, which is a big deal because I am always so worried about others that I never take the time to take care of myself.

On this trip, I had a lot of epiphanies. My family isn’t perfect—we have our issues like everyone else……but this year I actually started to sit down and start to unpack some of my unresolved childhood trauma. It’s nothing graphic, trust me, but let’s just say that my sister and I only had each other 90% of the time. My sister and I have started to actually talk about our experiences with one another and are slowly coming to terms with it and heal. I am so proud of this. We are making progress that should have started years ago, but it’s not too late. There is hope!

As for resolutions….i want to do better—by myself and others. I want to actually put myself first in some cases and do what’s best for me and my mental health instead of catering to others. Does that make me selfish? I don’t know….

My overall goal is to get accepted into university and get started on my future—on my own two feet and not relying on others, at least for now. I want to be independent for the first time in my life. I’m TERRIFIED, but I know that I will be okay.

I have a great support system—I got all of y’all here, my family, my boyfriend, and my irl friends. I am so thankful to all of you, even if we don’t talk much and only interact by liking each others posts. Meeting my mutuals on here has been a highlight of my year, and I am so happy to go into the New Year with you all. Regardless of if you live nearby or on the other side of the word, I am super thankful to each and everyone of you. I cannot put it into words. I love you all and I pray that you are blessed in 2024

💗🫶🏻✨

[thethirdromana]

so I decided to fix today's Beetle Weekly

(on AO3 here because why the hell not)

An Interlude with Edwards

It is rare that I disobey the direct wishes of my master, Sydney Atherton – and especially not his wish that I avoid entering his laboratory. I don’t know what disturbing matters he toys with there, and nor do I wish to, since it is scarcely in my power to prevent his activities. All I know is that they are a danger to life and limb!

Nonetheless I must note that I have been a lifelong supporter of the RSPCA. I have never been able to abide cruelty to any innocent animal; they are all God’s creatures, and under our protection.

Equally, loyalty to my employer has always been my watchword, as I believe it should be that of anyone in service.

It was these two instincts which warred within me when I saw Mr Atherton enter his home holding a poor dear little cat by the scruff of its neck. It was scrabbling for freedom but he would not let it go. He was with a friend, one of his more mannerly friends (not that it is my place to cast judgment on Mr Atherton’s choice of company), and the friend seemed quite distressed. Neither of them noticed me, though it was by agreement with Mr Atherton that I had stayed late.

They went into the laboratory together. A row ensued, quite audible from the house, in which Mr Atherton’s companion pleaded with him to let the cat go, and Mr Atherton, I am sorry to say (for he has always had my respect, and my loyalty, as it should be), did not heed him.

It half broke my heart to hear the poor creature yowl, I nearly broke in then and there, but that I have been in service these thirty-five years, and always remembered my place.

Then I heard the back door of the laboratory open. I could resist no longer; I seized my chance. I held my handkerchief over my mouth (for who knows what miasmas might lurk inside those walls!) and dashed into the laboratory. I looked neither left nor right, I simply snatched the limp body from within its glass box (monstrous, to do such a thing!) and went out again as quickly as I could.

I feared it was too late. But though the poor dear was quite limp, its tiny heart still beat!

I had promised Mr Atherton that I would stay only until 10pm, and it had reached that late hour already. I nestled the cat within my coat, against my breast, in hopes that the warmth might revive it, and travelled home by way of the Kensington Omnibus. By the time I reached my front door, it was beginning to recover.

“What’s that you’ve brought?” my wife asked me.

“You’ve said we wanted a mouser,” I reminded her.

Bless my dear wife, she is as fond of animals as I am, and as shocked when I told her what Mr Atherton had done.

“You should look for a new position,” she said.

“Then who would keep an eye on Mr Atherton?”

“Keep an eye on him?” she scoffed. “More like drop some rat-poison in his teacup.”

I chastised her, for I felt this was no way to speak of our betters, though within these pages I will confess to having had similar thoughts.

As I write this, the cat is curled up by my side and purring loudly. It seems that Mr Atherton’s experiment, whatever it was, proved to be no more than a knock-out gas, at least in its effects on those of a feline persuasion. Nonetheless, I will allow Mr Atherton to believe that it died and that I disposed of the body.

Mrs Edwards has proven quite pleased with the cat. She has decided to call him Edward, in honour of the Prince of Wales, and has put out a saucer of cream. May the Lord protect all the innocent creatures on this good green Earth!

[limelocked]

Look dude im just.. i like these two so much, no one will understand why i love my little guys so much, theyre gay for each other and this doesnt cover that at all, first chapter teaser chapter ass vibes for a story that will never on earth be told other than in the dms of my most beloved friends

---

“Good morning your highness”

There were no plans to meet with the duke of Argo this morning and yet here he was, as if the gods themselves had decided so. 

“So it is Lord Daviel”

Duke Daviel Teyvan of Argo was a man who had, until recently, not concerned himself for a moment with politics outside Argo and its border territories. A tall and broad shouldered man, one would assume he was blessed with a bear’s soul. It was, however, clear from his gracefully graying hair, gained before the start of his third decade of life, that the stress of managing his estate and businesses were better suited to his temperament than a battlefield. 

“How come you’ve decided to visit me, duke? I was shocked to hear that you’d traveled to the capital so you must imagine my surprise now that you’re here in my sitting room”

“I had heard your highness was ill” 

He said this with a smile that you would expect not to be genuine, yet it extended into a curious gleam in the duke's eye. 

“News travel slowly to the south it would seem” 

They did not, and I now knew why the duke of Argo was here. 

Lord Teyvan has a claim to the throne, small as it is. The late duke was the great grandchild of a royal who didn’t ascend the throne and who died before the first to-be duke of Teyvan was born. 

The nobility were planning treason and either Lord Teyvan was here to warn me, threaten me, or test me. 

“As you must have heard through the butler; it’s a great day of lucidity for the insane. You should count yourself lucky with your visit my lord”

“So I will, your highness.” he took a prolonged sip of his tea as if intentionally annoying me “I wished to see if our future ruler were as crazed as the rumors say, so I shall also have to leave today somewhat disappointed”

So it was a test and a warning.

“You are a brave man, Lord Teyvan, for speaking so bluntly of such things to my face when that is my reputation. I happen to know that you aren’t one for swords, unlike myself” 

Of course I had no reason to hurt this man, it would actually be a huge loss for me if I did. The duke had however challenged my honor, and boundaries were to be set accordingly. He should not tread over such an obvious line when implying treason to the royal he’s testing.

“My apologies, your highness. It was my impression that you may find more use in a bold man than one who whispers sweet nothings and vapid compliments in your ear. That is to say I thought you a man who would enjoy a harsher truth over a hidden lie”

In the holy text this man was a stoic and silent type, the rock for the primary romantic lead to lean on. What happened to that guy?

“Is that why you’re hiding your true intentions from me even now?”

He flinched. Only slightly and not enough for a human to notice. 

He was quiet for a moment before sighing in resignation. 

“You’re very observant your highness”

“Yes, and I’ve been very patient with you as well. Unless you have something to add then I suggest you leave” 

Duke Teyvan was objectively beautiful and could objectively be a good tool if I favored him. All the same qualities that made him dangerous to me. He has shared rumors of treason with me and he is a person with good support and a claim to the throne. 

I have to hate him, I have to fight this man. 

“Then I will take my leave. I hope we can meet further in the future your highness”

And then he left. The maids cleaned up the reception room and I returned to my library. 

In the coming weeks the duke entered capital politics, and once more managed to join my tea time. 

—

[9 years ago]

“Will you run away again, Solen?”

He stood there, at the end of the hall, brandishing a sword as if he knew how to use it. 

He sneered, filled with unearned confidence.

As of late, my half brother had grown emboldened, forgetting the healthy fear one should have in the face of regicide. With our father, the emperor, on his sickbed with little hope of recovery it was now no secret that the empress consort coveted his power.

“We don’t have to do this Malisian”

It wasn’t a warning but a plea for him to accept mercy. We both knew who the better swordsman was amongst us children, and I had never wanted human blood on my hands.

Malisian, the only other known survivor other than myself, smiled.

I wanted then to beg him not to make me do this. But he was raised cocky, he would run me down and gloat if I fled again.

He lunged and with a swift motion of my blade I parried.

I had to note that for a teen four years younger than me he was pretty strong. He lacked in most other areas of martial arts, but for a 13 year old to have a chance of overpowering a 17 year old was admittedly impressive.

I moved my wrist, the metal blades scraping against each other and into the marble floor, making a horrible sound I hoped no servant would ever have to hear.

“You know, brother” Malisian spoke, “If your mother hadn’t been that bitch then I would’ve spared your life. I would’ve put you in the dungeon for me to laugh at if you had been my real brother”

It was a lie. I knew for a fact he had afforded the other children of the empress consort no such opportunities. Me and my siblings, as children of the empress, had and would never receive special treatment.

He lunged again, probably aggravated by my silent response.

We exchanged blows for many long seconds, and he was losing ground.

I pitied him.

If I could, then I would have liked to offer him mercy, exile him or lock him up instead of death. It would be bad for me later on but–

CLANG!

I could see how the reckless attack had made the grip on his sword unstable and so I twisted my sword to knock his sword out of his hand.

Disarmed, my half-brother stood slightly hunched, dumbfounded.

“Malisian, you know you can’t win this. I’m holding back even after everything you’ve done”

It was quiet like that for a moment.

He didn’t move.

“You’re right. You were holding back. All this time as well.”

I turned my back on him. While I hadn’t killed any of my siblings with my own hands, I had avoided this fight and ran away, so could you really argue that my hands were clean?

The knights would be coming soon unless he’d paid them off, I needed to round them up and tell them to arrest him without lethal force.

It was something I could do myself, but I would rather have the safety of numbers that could hold him down and receive more but shallower wounds. This is what I thought of as I was walking away.

Sigh…

Why would he do all this when it was clear that the empress consort just wanted to use him as a puppet? Malisian had never been a smart boy but he’d displayed considerable cunning in his murder game so you would think he’d be able to figure this out himself.

Rustle…

Ah.

I see.

He had picked up his sword again, without making as much as a sound against the stonework.

I suspected this would happen but decided to be the bigger person anyways, and for no good reason.

The sound I had heard came from his clothes as he took a final shot at my unguarded back.

I instinctively turned around to defend myself.

He did not attack where I had anticipated.

My side felt hot and wet but no pain had registered yet.

What had was the fact that my last brother had overstepped, and gone full speed into the blade I had held up to guard against a swipe rather than a stab.

He had sliced his own neck in a way I figured would be irreparable.

More blood on the imperial floors.

It was covering me, a man who had only defended against a fool.

“Haha…”

How did he even manage to kill everyone else?

“Hahaha!”

I could hear footsteps in the distance and I felt something break inside of me as the laughter kept bubbling out.

“HAHAHAHAH!!”

Then I felt something else.

‘Sis did you read the new chapter?’

‘Of what?’

‘< I'll un-ruin this kingdom myself if I have to >’

[angeltreasure]

Cecilia here, saw you were back, welcome back! I do hope you've been well. I've been a busy bee, contacting a certain Salesian order I've had my eye on for a while. I've already talked to the vocation director twice over the phone who is such a sweetheart, been sent a package of information, and planning on attending a retreat of theirs coming in October. I'm getting good feelings about this order. I do feel slightly conflicted because I felt so drawn to the one Dominican order I visited back in March/April, but I haven't been able to keep contact with the vocation director at that one, was told that I couldn't visit over the summer, and the next retreat they have is in November. I feel so warmly welcomed by this Salesian order, both are teaching orders, but I'm wondering if I was in a honeymoon phase and the Lord wanted me to see that specific Dominican religious life, since it was the way I imagined I'd be as a sister versus how He sees where I need to be, if this Salesian order is where I'm supposed to be. Also I did want to share that I've had a certain phrase stuck in my head during the consecration in Mass, I translated it to Latin, Super Omnia et Ante Omnia, meaning Above All and Before All. I feel that it's accurate to how I feel about my relationship to God, He's above all and before all. God Bless and happy St. Mary Magdalene day!

Hi Cecilia!,

That’s right I’m back! ☺️ This was my very first retreat. I must make a special prayer for those who weren’t able to come but who reserved a slot. Many had to cancel and some got lost. The retreat I had was so good. Mass, confession, spiritual direction (my first time!), Eucharistic Adoration a lot, talks, questions & answers, special blessings. The talks and spiritual direction really helped me. It’s time I become more serious about what I consume and interact with. It’s good that you keep busy! I need to pray even more with better commitment to set aside specific time and place each day. I met Reverend Mother today and a new priest. I’m feeling very inspired! They will have a retreat again hopefully January of next year. God is so good. I’m feeling really good about this place. That is so true to have God above all and before all. I learned today that discernment is not a battle between should I marry or should I enter religious life- BUT “real discernment is with God and through God”. Please pray that I may receive the graces needed to strengthen myself. Thank you!! May the Lord bless you, protect you from all evil, and being you to everlasting life! Amen. I wish you a very happy feast of St. Mary Magdalene. We can learn so much from her.

[indigovigilance]

I have a new hero, and her name is Roz Kaveney.

As a youngish trans man, Kaveney’s and my life histories (up to my age, anyways) have a lot in common, and I’ve decided to address some choice quotes from that perspective. I hope it doesn’t come off as self-centered; my focus was how oddly recurrent the experience of coming out as trans can be, even across decades and across oceans, in ways people don’t usually talk about. It feels like I’m tracing over the Mona Lisa with crayon to add anything to this article, but Notorious NRG gave me permission, so with his blessing, I’m taking a crack at it:

or read it on Ao3

(If you want to learn way too much about me keep reading; otherwise just go to the article it's pretty fantastic)

Ask [Roz Kaveney] one question—in my case: “How did you grow up?”—and you end up with a story… with basically every line of that story being pre-polished, witty and ready to serve as a snappy pull quote. 

Just me, being 0% surprised that a trans woman is an amazing storyteller. Spend your entire life explaining to people who you are and try to feed them a digestible narrative of why you should be allowed to live your life the way you choose to live it, and you’ll be an amazing storyteller too. When every introduction is an elevator pitch for your own civil rights, you get pretty good at telling a story.

Her debut novel, Tiny Pieces of Skull—which she initially wrote in the mid-1980s, when there was no such genre as “trans fiction”—won the Lambda Literary Award for Best Trans Fiction when it was finally published in 2016. 

I recently pulled my “Hermione Granger is a trans man” fiction off of ice, only to find that Ao3 doesn’t have a tag for that. So, felt, both on the waiting to publish bit and the why is there no category for this already bit.

She is the last living trans woman who was within the Trans Group of the London Gay Liberation Front. 

History likes to talk about firsts, and very rarely about lasts. They are just as important. I am one of the last (if not the last) transgender people in my home state to use the court process to change my name. I was stuck in a weird liminal period where legislation allowing transgender people to use a simplified process had been passed, but was not in effect yet, and I had a deadline (graduation) to beat. It feels weird to be a last but also, for me as I hope it is for Kaveney, bittersweet knowing that it means the world you leave behind is better than the one you entered into. That when you're gone, you’re taking the last remnants of an injustice with you.

Kaveney is a working writer, not a historical figure; she lives her life very much in the present tense. “I don’t mind talking about my activism,” she says, “but I think my poetry is more important.”

The struggle to be more than your activism is real. It’s at the heart of activism, its principle motivation: permission to live an ordinary, unexamined life, or an extraordinary one, just like everyone else. That’s what equality means: being treated as more than your labels. My gender is the canvas: please, please look at the painting. It is far more beautiful.

One of Kaveney’s more impressive accomplishments is that she has spent almost 50 years actively fighting the British TERF movement, and, in the course of that fight, has borne witness to nearly its entire history. She saw it take form. She saw it rise. She may yet see it fall. 

As the article alludes to later, Kaveney didn’t just witness history, she made it, and what a thing to do, to thrust your hand into the stream of time and direct its flow. From an ocean away, I thank you for diligently protecting my right to exist from people who… well, we won’t talk about that.

Roz Kaveney was, by her own account, a “horribly precocious teenager.”

I am not the first to observe that queer people, particularly transgender people, seem to have been given an extra sprinkle of brainpower on their way down to earth. I still can’t figure out if perhaps a powerful brain lends itself to questioning the precepts of gender, or if trying to understand one’s biological predisposition ends up being a lifelong analytical reasoning bootcamp, or if it simply the confluence of “I can, so I must” that takes the most intelligent, powerful transgender people that Creation has to offer and thrusts them into the public sphere, and that demographically they are simply overrepresented because gifted cis people have the privilege of living unexamined lives.

So, she read. A lot. In multiple languages: “I was reading a lot of French just to annoy my French teacher,” she says. “I had a feud with one of my French teachers, and so I’d try and get ahead of him on lessons and sabotage him.”

Are you sure you weren’t just doing your practice rounds for having much bigger conflicts with authority in adulthood? Almost as if you saw high school as a training ground, and teachers as combat dummies you could hone your skills on to get ready for the boss battle? I’m just sayin’.

Kaveney told her childhood best friend about her gender when she was only five.

We know. We knew. We always knew. There's so much to say about this that I will not say it here. I cannot possibly do it justice without absolutely derailing this article.

…but it was only in the late 1960s, with the Manchester group she calls “street women,” when she made any real contact with trans life.

Yes, the internet made it easier, but it is still so freaking hard to find other trans people, and my life changed when I finally did. Because it’s not just the people. It’s the life, and it’s full of so many other people too, the unwanteds from every corner, and you learn just how broken the system is, to have left so many people behind.

“It was great, but they were very responsible and discouraged me from running away from home and starting to transition in my teens,” Kaveney says. “They said, ‘Your life will be much better if you go to university, and you’ve got years to sort things out.’

I gave myself this advice. I’ve received this advice. I’ve given this advice. I’m glad I finished university, and I’m not sure I would have finished if I had come out earlier than I did. But it is advice that is not for you; it’s for everyone else. It is advice that says they will hurt you if they know. It hurt to give it, and it hurt to take it. Everything about this is hurt.

…and about that time, when I was in Manchester, I got picked up by a police car and correctively raped by a cop who explained to me that he was doing this to demonstrate what my life was going to be like if I persisted in these courses.”

I was going to join the military and become a doctor. I would have been a good fit, in a lot of respects. My mother encouraged me in this plan, until I came out. Then she warned me that this would happen to me if I tried to break gender norms in the military, and that I had to choose between the military and being trans. I chose being trans. That also meant choosing not to go to medical school (It’s a little more complicated than that but not by much).

Kaveney was admitted to Oxford University; she cut Manchester mostly out of her life, though she would still take trips there, “just when I couldn’t cope.”

Denial of gender queerness in academia is real, but there’s an even better quote about it below so I’ll discuss it more there. Suffice to say, pretending to be cis is like holding your breath, and sometimes, you just have to open your mouth and take a big gulp of air so you don’t keel over.

In conversation, Kaveney tends to walk past the difficult parts of her story at a brisk clip.

Same. No further elaboration. We can walk by this at a brisk clip together.

She mentioned leaving Oxford once. What she did not mention to me, but has mentioned to other interviewers, was that she had begun to transition the year before she left. “The kind of education that she had, the kind of expectations that she had, were hugely confounded by transitioning,” says her friend and colleague Lisa Power, who authored an oral history of the Gay Liberation Front (GLF). “You know, she was on her way to a massively successful academic career, and it all got upended. And she’s very funny about it now. But actually, that must have been quite horrific.”

Absolutely in lock-step with you, sister. I took a leave of absence the semester I was supposed to graduate, then announced my new identity at the beginning of the next semester. Everything crashed and burned. My recommenders wouldn’t recommend me, the military officially would not take me, despite scoring in the top decile for my medical school entrance exams. I moved to another state halfway through my last semester and took whatever work I could get. I went from being a star to barely holding my life together in the course of a year. But I was finally alive. I’m still working on developing my sense of humor about it. Kaveney has me beat on that front.

It’s a crime, because here’s the thing. Kaveney is talking about it. I’m talking about it. Who isn’t talking about it? Who did exactly what we did (because it is a very reasoned decision that I’m sure we both thought was going to work out okay and obviously didn’t) and will never talk about it? Who isn’t here to talk about it, because this is how things played out when they were ready to make their debut on the world stage? What has the world lost to this story?

~~~

There's a whole other half of this article that I want to address but this seems like enough for one post. I hope that me sharing my story helps someone at least a fraction as much as Kaveney sharing hers is helping me. I only just found out about her today, and I have a feeling that the more I learn, the more important she's going to become to me.

This is Roz Kaveney. We've been friends since 1985, and I can attest that she's been on the right side of history. I learned so much from her:

You should read this article. (And if you do, post your favourite quote or thing you learned from it...)

[fairfieldthinkspace]

Rosh Hashanah – New Year 5785

Rabbi James Prosnit

Jewish Chaplain, Campus Ministry

The Jewish High Holy Days begin this year on Wednesday evening, October 2 with the observance of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.  

This year the rejoicing of the season has been tempered by the terrorist attacks of last October 7. Since that time, the grief and the heartbreak has been unrelenting. Grief for those killed and harmed on October 7, grief for the hostages, grief for the deaths of innocent lives in Gaza, grief for the ongoing war(s) and violence.  

In addition, while the Fairfield University community was immune from the ugliness that arose on many college campuses last year, we witnessed too many places where legitimate protest turned to harassment of Jewish students and anti-Semitic rhetoric.

Sadly, the New Year dawns with not a lot of optimism for change. That said, New Years are always seasons of hope. The late chief Rabbi of the UK, Jonathan Sacks, has a famous quote on the distinction. “Optimism and hope are not the same. Optimism is the belief that the world is changing for the better; hope is the belief that, together, we can make the world better. Optimism is a passive virtue, hope an active one. It needs no courage to be an optimist, but it takes a great deal of courage to hope.” 

Providing hope is central to all faith traditions, and Jewish tradition at this time of year especially, is no exception. Hope is not an erasure of loss and does not take away the hurt, but it does help to bind us back together, and connect us to each other—that small thread of hope can pull us out of despair. 

So, we enter these Yamim Nora’im, these Days of Awe with more reverie than revelry. But, still Jewish families will gather in celebration and take stock of their blessings. Many Jews will turn to their synagogues for prayerful connections to community and to God. A central ritual of the Holy Day is the sounding of a ram’s horn known as a shofar. And while in the most ancient of days it may have been a call to war, it has certainly been reframed by our tradition to be a clarion call for hope.

The wish during this season as it is every year is Shanah tovah u'metukah; not necessarily a Happy New Year, but a good and sweet year filled with renewed possibilities and blessings for wholeness and peace. 

[umichenginabroad]

Kayak voyages and el Rio Misterioso...

Week 6

It's come to my attention that more people than I thought read my blog posts, so here's to all of my adoring fans who've been here since the early weeks! If you're new, I gotta say that these are definitely a treat (but of course I'm a bit biased). This post might be shorter than my other ones since it was a pretty relaxed week with not too much going on. However, read till the end! Treat it as waiting for the post-credits at the movies, I might have a hint about where I'm going this weekend...

Pirates of the San Sebastián Bay

I'm going to skip past Monday and Tuesday to just jump right into the rest of the week since those were mainly more days of research. Due to Tecnun having a university holiday on Wednesday, we were able to have that day off! It was super nice out so we decided to seize the day (most of the day after napping for maybe half of it) to embark on a kayak excursion. With the luck from a shilling and 5 euro note I found on the ground, I had high hopes that we would have the blessing of the sea on our side. The rental wasn't that expensive at all, especially for a two-person kayak and roughly 2 hour time slot. We originally planned to set sail for the island itself, but decided that we wanted to aim for an even bigger goal of going around the island. Everything was going smoothly until we reached the mouth of the bay, since this area featured a lot of unexpected rocky patches. As newly appointed seafarers, Jayashree and I wouldn't let this be our end. We successfully entered the choppy waters and were officially now out in open water! At this point, we should've been cast alongside Captain Jack Sparrow because we would make phenomenal pirates. Seeing the back of the island was really neat along with feeling how different it is being the only boat on the water. We ended up having a really good time and 100% would do it again!

Land Ho!

Afterwards we stopped by an icecream stand to reward ourselves on our journey, where I found a rather interesting choice to say the least. It was called a Frigo Pie, or Refrigerator Foot, and it was actually shaped... just like a foot. If I had to rate it overall, I would say a 6/10 for taste and 9/10 for presentation. What better way to cool off on a hot day, right?

It was a bit smaller than expected. I think to improve their product they should make it somewhere around a size 7-8 in US shoe sizes. More bang for your buck you know.

Photo Ops and Friendly Competitions

On Thursday, the night had a lot in store for us. To start, Jayashree, Izzy, Deidra, and I had the amazing idea to recreate some classic JCPenney-esque family photos. I don't really know how else to explain them besides just showing the results, so take a look below at the outcome and I'll do my very best to explain our vision:

We were attempting to create a square with all our hands. We almost got there but it resembles more of a rhombus.

Izzy may or may not have dropped me before taking this picture for the second time.

A big thank you to Diego for being our photographer! Later on, some of us had bought tickets to go to the local club, Bataplán, to get the experience of going out in Spain. To sum it up, we had a great time! We did some rounds of arm wrestling where Jayashree was the reigning champion, and enjoyed listening to all the spanish reggaeton music (there were also some english songs and also a random Can-Can remix).

A quick showcase!

Lately whenever I'm not at work doing research or something with my friends, I've been spending time getting back into drawing. It's always been something that I love to put time into and see how much I've improved over the years. At one point I considered going to school for storyboard animation, but I figured that I like art more as a hobby anyways :). I don't usually do architecture drawings, but I wanted to do a challenge for myself and also sketch it only in pen to up the stakes. Take a look and leave a review in the comments!

This street is from a picture I took when I was just walking around San Sebastián one day.

The Big Finale of the Week: Amusement Park!

On our very first day here, we were taken to Monte Igueldo for a lunch and the best view of the city. We decided to go back on Sunday since there's an amusement park at the top (meant for little kids but I mean we had to check it out). After disembarking from the cable car and reminiscing about the time we've spent here so far, we took a lap around to see what we wanted to do. Almost instantly, we locked eyes with a sign that read: Rio Misterioso. Intrigued, we saw that it was a little boat ride and immediately knew that this should be saved as the best for last. From there, our first stop was the rollercoaster, and boy was it actually more of a thrill than we thought it would be. Not on the same level as Cedar Point, but there were some worthy drops that gave a decent adrenaline rush. We decided to split up briefly, since Izzy and Jayashree wanted to do the bumper cars and Deidra and I wanted to take on the Casa del Terror. I was surprised that Deidra wanted in on this since she's not a fan of all things spooky, but this would be her first haunted house and one at a kid's amusement park is a pretty good starter. For 3 euros, it definitely was an experience. The theme inside wasn't exactly cohesive and varied between movie theatre, jurassic park, the shining, catacombs, and skeletons playing chess. I won't name names but a certain someone was jumpscared by a door, and I almost tripped because I didn't see the stairs. Once we left, we found Jayashree and Izzy living it up in the bumper car arena and then strolled our way with anticipation to el Rio Misterioso. It was a pretty calm and scenic ride with a view of the ocean and city, just shorter than we expected it to be. The route led us into a small underpass where we saw...Peter Pan? Seeing him made me feel magical and whimsical, making for a truly life-changing boat ride. With that, I think the mysterious river really did live up to its name.

The view from the top!

My homies Pennywise and Peter Pan!

As promised, I said that I have a sneak peak into what next week's post will bring. First of all, thanks for staying this long! I really do appreciate when people read my posts and get to see what I'm doing day-to-day :). Now for the hint!

You get 5 blanks: _ _ _ _ _

It's a city in France, there's a show with my name in it and this city, and the Olympics will be taking place here this year. It's probably a dead giveaway, but still fun to guess!

See you soon,

Emily Dobao

IPE San Sebastian, Spain

July 2nd, 2024

[mnovenia]

03-01-2024 page 3/365

Idk what kind of feeling I currently have, I always have so much expectation to begin a new year. Considering last year 2023 was super amazing, it's like the best in a while, if you ask me why? Perhaps its the start when I truly walking with Christ, find freedom in enjoying His love, witness how He worked even on the areas that I didn't think He would. Work wise, finance, villa, diet, love, friendship, church ministry, family, I felt love like never before, I felt I achieved more than what I could, more than I ever expected.

But then this year comes, a new page, something I should look forward to, I should begin with semangat, but JOY, I feel like it hasn't been exist. Why are you worry dear soul? It should be an exciting beginning, you shouldn't be drown by your expectation, you should believe even better things are prepared by your beloved Father, He will never let you suffer, He will never let you disappointed as you cling your hope in His name, as you believe in His sacrifices and what He can do through you, you wasn't doing so good last year, IT WAS ALL GOD, IT WAS ALL BECAUSE OF HIS GRACE AND LOVE AND IT WILL NEVER RUN OUT in your life.

Joy I pray for joy as I enter this new year. A genuine one, the day that you've been praying for is coming BY GOD"S GRACE, not GH's work, not your prayer ethic, and whatever will happen in the coming days is according to His will, you don't have to work so hard to make it WORK AS YOUR WORLDLY expectation, KETAKUTANMU TIDAK AKAN TERJADI. I will look up to You Lord, I will seek you first in the morning, I will surrender and put the JOY I have in Jesus' name in my life, enjoying the covenant I have in You, believing whatever life may come, JESUS IS STILL CHRIST. I want to believe that You will continue to use my life to be your channel of blessings, be your missionary everywhere I go, sharing Christ's love to those You sent me too, love people the way You love me and I will believe in YOUR TIME AND PERFECT PLAN, YOUR SOVEREIGNTY OVER THIS WORLD's craziness. I will not live up to my own expectation, what the world think or expect me to do, I will just enjoying YOUR LOVE, THE GOSPEL, THE COVENANT I have in you and focus on making others to be able to enjoy the same thing.

Now I'm heading to airport to pick up GwangHui, thank you Lord for being with him and bring him here to Bali. KKeutkaji protect and guide us as we want to glorify Your name. In JESUS precious name

[wolint]

FRESH MANNA

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Proverbs 23:18

Happy New Year! Welcome to the new year!

Welcome to 2024. You made it! Glory be to God.

Tick-tock, tick-tock! The clock is ticking! Can you hear it? It feels just like yesterday we were all shouting “Happy New Year” into 2023, where did the time go? Here we are again proclaiming “Happy New Year” 24.

Did you achieve all you set out in 23? Did you make a dent in those goals and plans? Never mind, there’s still time to get them done. Tick-tock!

A lot of people started 2023 with New Year’s resolutions”. The things they intend to either do or don’t. Sadly, not many see this through. Some don’t even last until the end of January. And here we are again for so many to do another cycle of “Resolution”. Did you know that God changed the calendar just before He freed the Hebrews from Egypt? He made that month of deliverance the first month of the year!

It's good that we all should be born again on the first day of January. Starting with a fresh page. Forgetting last year's struggles, desolation, heartaches, fears, pains, disappointment, everything according to Isaiah 43:18, jump-start the year with new hope, new heart, new outlook and new desires.

If you’re to make a New Year’s resolution, let it be one resolution this year: to anchor ourselves to God’s grace. To chase after God, to seek Him and desire Him above all else. Let’s be like Moses who saw and experienced the glory of God.

It’s always good to start the year with plans and preparation but we must remember that as Psalm 37:5 says, only God can make our plans what they ought to be if we commit them to Him.

The Bible encourages us to examine our lives and resolve to change them if necessary (although not just at the beginning of a new year but continuously). Psalm 17:3 say that we should resolve to keep our speech pure saying: “I have planned no evil; my mouth has not transgressed”.

Ephesians 4:22-24 encourages us to put off our old selves. The “old self” that refused to trust and serve Christ earnestly. But we should be renewed or transformed in the mind according to Romans 12:2 as we study and apply God’s Word and begin to think in new and right ways.

The new year should be a new beginning for us in many ways, especially in spiritual things. Time is ticking, there’s no time to waste in pursuing spiritual goals. We should endeavour to enter and remain in the new year with renewed minds.

So many of us walked the proverbial wilderness in the last year, wishing, praying and hoping that God would do something new for us and God promised in Isaiah 43:19 that He is, and will do something new for us, something unprecedented and wonderful, not just for the new year but always.

We make resolutions that are often too unrealistic, however, so many of our resolutions fail. Resolutions are sometimes wishful thinking, with no way to make them happen but when we plan with God as Proverbs 16:9 states, He directs and establishes our plans and paths, with little or no chance of failure. Even if you made resolutions, who holds you accountable for keeping them? No one! All too soon, we find ourselves falling off the bandwagon. But when we make godly plans, the scriptures hold us accountable to obedience.

We must remember that according to Romans 7:18, the real problem with not being able to sustain carnal resolutions is within us—within our hearts and minds. We’d all like to be better people, but no matter how hard we try, we find ourselves tripped up by our moral failures and weaknesses. Even Paul experienced this: “I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out”.

Deuteronomy 7:13 says obedience to God’s covenant leads to blessings, everything we need, want and desire in the new year is in God. May it be a wonderful one.

PRAYER: Thank you Lord for the privilege of seeing another year, thank you for the gift of life. I commit my life and everything into your hands so that you may perfect all that concerns me this year in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT PRAYER MIN.

[keeganbooks]

KNOWING YOUR BIBLE

March 26, 2023: Dear Friends, Welcome to this week’s blog study on the life of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. We are entering the 5th week of Lent, that season of time that occurs 40 days before Easter of each year. This is a time of fasting and penitence for the follower to observe during the leading up to the time of Jesus’ crucifixion on Good Friday ( April 7, this year) and his resurrection Easter morning ( April 9, this year).

During the past 4 weeks, the blog writings have focused on Jesus’ humanity, his humanness, and on how he lived his life ministering to and healing hundreds of people in his lifetime. Studying Jesus’ life that is recorded in the New Testament Bible books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, will relay how he lived while on earth, who he was and what he stood for. As one acquires knowledge about Jesus, the very foundation of one’s faith and trust in Jesus brings spiritual growth to the inner-most soul, drawing one nearer and closer to him.

It is the hope that many will form a relationship with Jesus. This relationship will become the most important focus in one’s life, knowing that Jesus’ love, compassion, and understanding is continuously with us through his Holy Spirit, guiding and directing our thoughts and decisions as our faith in him grows stronger and stronger.

In this week’s blog, Bible verses that record what appears to be written the week before Jesus’ last week on earth (chapters written before Palm Sunday, the Sunday of the last week of his life prior to his crucifixion will be listed below.) These verses again demonstrate Jesus’ humanness and allow for a better understanding of where Jesus stood in his ministry prior to his death by crucifixion. Again, reading and studying one of the Bible books listed above during the next 2 weeks will be very helpful in acquiring the knowledge about Jesus that will help in the formation of the foundation of faith and trust that leads to a deep and strong relationship with Jesus.

              MAY GOD BLESS YOUR BIBLE STUDY THIS WEEK!

Bible Verses: Matthew, chapters 19, 20. Mark, Chapters 9, 10 and 11. Luke, chapters 14, 15, and 16. and John, chapters 13, 14, 15, and 16.

[dessola1]

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️ .

Hi my wife Zendaya Maree Stoermer Coleman . Your wife Adesola Stephanie Adepoju wishes you a Happy New Year’s Eve . I love you so much . I shall always love you so much . I’m so in love with you . I love loving you .

Happy New Year's Eve: Wishes for family, friends, colleagues, boyfriend and girlfriend.

It's December 31 today, the last day of 2022. Here are some New Year's Eve wishes to share with your family, friends, colleagues, boyfriend and girlfriend.

New Year's Eve wishes

Today is the last day of 2022. People around the world are bidding a goodbye to 2022 and preparing to welcome New Year with much cheer, love and laughter.

New Year's Eve wishes

Let your loved ones know you are thinking of them by sending them New Year's Eve wishes. Here are some New Year's Eve wishes to share with your family, friends, colleagues, boyfriend and girlfriend:

New Year's Eve wishes for friends

* Before the year ends, just count all the blessings God showered you with before you enter another year.

* Wishing you a year filled with the blessings of God. Happy New Year's Eve!

* Happy New Year's Eve! A new year is like a fresh page in a book. You hold the pen in your hands. You have the opportunity to create a wonderful tale for yourself.

* Here’s to another year full of joy, laughter, and unforgettable memories with an unforgettable friend. Happy New Year's Eve.

* I want to wish you a very Happy New Year 2023 much before the sun sets, before you change the calendar, before your phone gets busy, before the party starts…. May this year be the brightest and happiest year of your life. Happy New Year's Eve!

Related News

Happy New Year 2023 Advance Wishes Images, Quotes, Whatsapp Status Messages, Photos & Greeting Cards

From pajama party to setting up your own bar, here are some fun ways to ring in New Year at home.

New Year's Eve wishes for family

* Happy New Year's Eve. It is time to thank God for a great year and seek his blessings for the upcoming year.

* Happy New Year's Eve wishes to my family who has always been there for me. Looking forward to another amazing year with you.

* Happy New Year's Eve! Never ever take along the negative thoughts and bad memories with you into the New Year. Always carry the good things to make it a good year.

* A very Happy New Year's Eve to my loving family. May we are always there for each other, always there to make every celebration so memorable.

* Happy New Year's Eve! May New Year 2023 bring success filled with peace hope and togetherness in our family. We love you and wish you God’s blessings.

New Year's Eve wishes for colleagues

* Happy New Year's Eve and good luck with new beginnings!

* I hope the new year is better for you and that it brings you success. Happy New Year's Eve!

* Happy New Year's Eve. Have a wonderful New Year surrounded by all your loved ones!

* I hope you get all success this year. Hope that joy and success follow you in every sector of life. Happy New Year's Eve.

* May so much beautiful this upcoming New Year for you and your family! May it fill you with tanks of joy and abundance! Wishing you a Happy New Year's Eve.

New Year's Eve wishes for love

* May your life be as bright as the sun, as beautiful as flowers, and you be showered with blessings and happiness. Happy New Year's Eve!

* Happy New Year's Eve! Before we come to the end of this year, I want to thank you for making it special and I send you lots of love and warm wishes to you for a more wonderful and fun-filled New Year.

* Happy New Year's Eve! I am looking forward to the morning after New year’s Eve when I wake up next to you!

* I forget all my worries when I’m in your arms. May the upcoming year be full of memories and beautiful moments of you and me. Happy New Year's Eve!

* My New Year resolution: More time with you. Happy New Year's Eve, my love!

New Year's Eve wishes for boyfriend

* Happy New Year's Eve! May 2023 be kind to you! May you write a great history for yourself!

* I love you unconditionally. My love for you would remain true and fresh for the rest of my life. I ask God to bless us to be together in New Year. Happy New Year's Eve!

* Do you know what my New Year wish is? I think you have a guess. I want to spend a lifetime holding your hand. You’ve made my life so much better; it feels like I’m living in a fairytale. Thank you for everything, baby. Happy New Year's Eve!

* Wishing you strong nerves so you could stay with me till the end of time. May this year be the beginning of something that will change our lives for the better. Love you! Happy New Year's Eve!

* Nobody understands me like you do. Nobody loves me like you do. Nobody could ever take your place, and I’m beyond grateful for the opportunity to spend this New Year’s Eve with you.

New Year parties in Goa: Cruise, beach party, DJ, live music, dance and much more to welcome 2023

New Year's Eve wishes for girlfriend

* On the occasion of New Year, I just wish that are always together spreading love and joy into each other’s life. Happy New Year

* Wishing a very Happy New Year in advance to you my love. May we enter in this year together and celebrate it with lots of fun.

* I feel so blessed to spend this New Year’s Eve with my soulmate. I can’t wait to see you achieving every goal and succeeding in everything you do in the new year.

* You are not just my girlfriend but the love of my life. Happy New Year! This year was so exceptional and memorable because of you being in my life and I really believe that in the upcoming year we are going to share more great moments together!

* I wish you 12 months of smiles and 365 days of happiness and joy… May the coming year bring along a beautiful day to you every day…. Wishing you good fortune and great success today and tomorrow.

Happy New Year . 2023 .

New Year's Eve wishes: It's almost time for the new year. One of the most cherished New Year's Day traditions is wishing friends and family a happy new year. It is a tradition that dates back to ancient times, people believe that the new year represents a fresh start and a chance to leave the past behind. (Also read: Happy New Year 2023: Best wishes, Shayari, images, greetings, messages to share with family and friends on January 1)

In addition to being a thoughtful gesture, sending New Year wishes can also help to strengthen relationships and create a sense of community. It is a way to connect with others and to express your support and encouragement. By wishing someone a happy new year, you are showing that you care about them and that you value their presence in your life.

Here are some New Year's Eve quotes to send to your loved ones:

"Your success and happiness lies in you. Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties." - Helen Keller

"The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul." - G.K. Chesterton

SIMILAR STORIES

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The New Year is Here, It’s Time to Cheer

Happy New Year 2023

"A new year brings not only happiness, it makes us happy with a hope to fulfill our dreams or a new beginning of our lives. So, a new year is very special to everyone." - Santonu Kumar Dhar

"The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." - C.S. Lewis

"The new year stands before us, like a chapter in a book, waiting to be written. We can help write that story by setting goals." - Melody Beattie

"Each year's regrets are envelopes in which messages of hope are found for the New Year." - John R. Dallas Jr.

"Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go." - Brooks Atkinson

New Year's Eve is here

"The new year stands before us, like a freshly laundered shirt. It's crisp, clean and full of potential. Make it your own." - Richelle E. Goodrich

"An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves." - Bill Vaughan

"The old year has gone. Let the dead past bury its own dead. The new year has taken possession of the clock of time. All hail the duties and possibilities of the coming twelve months!" - Edward Payson Powell

"The new year is a blank canvas. Paint on it whatever you would like to see on it." - Catherine Pulsifer

"For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning." - T.S. Eliot

"As the old year ends and a new one begins, let us look back on the past with gratitude and forward to the future with hope." - Unknown

"Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right." - Oprah Winfrey

"The new year stands before us, like a chapter in a book, waiting to be written. We can help write that story by setting goals." - Melody Beattie

"New Year's most glorious light is sweet hope!" - Mehmet Murat ildan

"New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time." - James Agate .

Adesola Stephanie Adepoju .

Zendaya Maree Stoermer Coleman .

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Date : Saturday December 31 2022 .

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[softomi]

I bet my wife is scarier than yours.

Kuroo Testuro

He was always lectured by you to take off his wedding ring when he went to the bathroom, but he was never worried about his ring. It would pass over his head as he washed his hands, urging to himself that the next time he’d do it. But today, his face fallen and pale; it didn’t help that you were already currently angry with him for forgetting to move the wet clothes from the washer to the drier; and now he watched in horror as his wedding ring slipped off his finger and into the drain.

“What are you doing?” Your hands on your hips when you see his hand stuffed into the sink.

Kuroo laughs, “Just thought I’d fix the drain.”

You eyed him before moving your way to the laundry room. Kuroo whips out his phone, emergency texting his friends who gave zero decent input into his situation. He fears that he may have to spend another week sleeping on the couch; or worse, kicked out of his home until he can replace his ring.

But he wasn’t going to let that happen, even if it meant they have to hire a plumber later to fix what he breaks, then so be it; as long as you never find out.

“You lost your ring didn’t you.” Out from under the kitchen sink, Kuroo watches your facial features frown, arms cross, and a deep irritated sigh.

“I swear honey, I’ll get it back. It’s in the stupid drain. Just don’t be mad.” When Kuroo finally manages to unscrew the bottom, he feels triumphant. He shakes the ends a bit and out falls two rings. Kuroo curiously picks up the band that was clearly not his, staring at it until he realizes, it was your ring, “What the? You lost your ring!” Kuroo is using his shirt to clean the diamond, “This cost a fortune and you let it fall through the drain!”

Your hand collides with his head, your lips twitching, “Were you not digging in the drain for yours too?”

Iwaizumi Hajime

Many thought that there was nothing that could scare the man. He was immune to bugs, horror films, even when his friends try to surprise him; it never really works. Nothing scares him; or so they thought. It was one thing for him to bring his kids to work, sure, he’s done it hundreds of times on days when he knew it was going to be slow; but you specifically told him to keep the children off the court. Has he ever listened; no because in his mind, what could go wrong, apparently everything.

“Now what are we going to tell mommy?” Iwaizumi has stopped the car now, parked right in front of their home, he turns to his two children. His beautiful six year old daughter and his two year old son.

The little girl has remnants of ice cream still on her face, “I fell!”

He should have known better than to trust a six year old, the moment she walked through the doors and saw her caring, beautiful, loving mother; she began to bawl uncontrollably. Incoherent crying mixed with child snot, Iwaizumi was praying that you couldn’t understand her and would ultimately just make her stop crying.

“What!” You stood to your feet, “You let her go out onto the court! You know how dangerous that can be with all the guys spiking volleyballs all over the place.” You step forward but he’s using his two year old son as a shield, “Hajime!”

“She was just playing with Atsumu and then she fell!” Your eyes narrow on the male and he concedes immediately, “Okay so Atsumu set the ball, Bokuto spiked it, it landed right in front of her and might of hit her face for a second.” You let out a large gasp, “But I checked! She doesn’t have any major injuries! Right?” Iwaizumi attempts to pat his daughter on the head but she sinks behind her mother’s legs; the ultimate betrayal.

“Hajime.” You take a step forward but he uses his son as a shield again, “Hajime!” The male side steps you, practically skipping to the bedroom with his son, “Don’t even think that you’re sleeping in our bed tonight!”

Bokuto Koutarou  

Bless his soul, somehow you’ve thought it would be the most fantastic idea to leave him alone with his one and a half year old daughter. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been alone with her before, but this would officially be the first time that you actually spend a full twenty-four hours away from the house, the baby, and your husband. You had left him a list of instructions on how to feed her, different house chores needing to be done, and even a detailed timetable of your daughter’s day.

“Oh no, please don’t cry. If you cry, then daddy’s going to cry.” Bokuto sits on the living room floor, his daughter sat right in front of him with the worst cry on her face.

It’s two hours until you said you’d be back and Bokuto is just realizing now that he hasn’t done anything you asked. He thought that if he put his daughter to sleep just an hour earlier, perhaps he’d have enough time to finish the chores; what he discovers is that his daughter wouldn’t sleep, instead she continued to bawl in the bed and even when it neared her nap time; Bokuto made the mistake of letting her have a sugary treat, obviously she wouldn’t sleep.

“I’m home?” Your words are drawn out when you step into the living room, your daughter and husband on the floor just on the verge of tears, the living room a mess with toys all over the floor, the laundry sprawled out onto the couch, and for some reason there’s paint on the floors and walls, “Koutarou!”

You pick up your daughter who crawled to your foot, her crying slows down when she’s in your arms and Bokuto sheepishly looks to you, “Welcome home honey!”

“Do you want to explain?” Your hand gestures to the entire house that is a mess, “I gave you a very detailed list Kou!”

He stands, arms encasing you into a hug, “I’m so sorry!” He’s peppering away your angered expression with kisses and you can’t help but to smile. His hands are leading you to the bedroom, “I’ll clean everything up, just rest!”

He wasn’t able to clean everything up, when you emerged from the bedroom with your daughter napping, you saw that somehow the mess got bigger. Your hands on your hips, a scowl on your lips, when he tries to skip to you with puckered lips, you throw a pillow to his face. Maybe he’d be better off sleeping at Akaashi’s place.

Kita Shinsuke

It hadn’t been long since the both of you tied the knot let alone since finding out you were expecting his first child, so there were many changes in his routine. He’s persistent though, if he could do it one day then the next day he could do it too. Ever since you’ve entered the stage of pregnancy where you want to eat everything and anything, Kita finds himself at the grocery store more often than he would routinely like to.

“Yes dear.” Kita listens to you ramble a list of things you would like from the store, he was absolutely tired and wasn’t writing anything down. You had been in a bad mood all day due to your sore lower back and anything Kita has tried hasn’t worked.

“Are you listening? Honey, I really want watermelon, that’s what I want the most. I don’t want the prepackaged ones, I want an entire watermelon.”

He insists he was listening but when faced with the two different type of watermelon, all Kita can remember is you saying prepackaged. So the frown you have on your face when he pulls out a little clear container of watermelon, his memory rushes back to recall that you specifically asked for a fresh watermelon.

“I’ll go back to the store.” He gulps.

“No.” Your words are sharp, the smile on your face sends a chill down his spine, “It’s okay, maybe our son will be happy that his father has given him poor watermelon instead of listening to his loving wife who asked for a fresh watermelon. Shinsuke! You said you were listening!”

He was dejected to sitting outside, pulling at the random grass as he looked over his rice field. He turns when he hears footsteps, you were pouting while looking down at him. If there was anything that he was glad about with your mood swings, it was that your anger left as quickly as it came. He stands, a hand supporting your back to lead you back to the house.

“Why don’t we go to the store together? I’ll buy you everything you want.”

Oikawa Tooru

It was no secret that the two of you were angry with each other, the restaurant was awfully cheery compared to the silent treatment that you were giving Oikawa and the one that he was giving right back at you. So you two settled on just not talking to each other; but the more you stayed silent, the more Oikawa felt uneasy. Because now you were reaching an entirely new type of mad, one where you looked calm and collected but deep down in your eyes, he was screwed.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spits out in the middle of the meal.

“For what?” You inquire, sipping the soup from your spoon slowly without looking at him.

He lowers his head, “I’m sorry I decided to go hang out with the guys instead of coming home to you, my lovely and adorable wife who I adore and love.” He tries sending you a sweet smile, hoping that his sugarcoated words would bring you back to smile for him.

“Not good enough.” Your words stab him in the back. You set the spoon down, opting to finally look at him before lifting your hand. You place a finger down, “I told you to come home early tonight so we could clean the house.” Another finger down, “You lied to me saying you had to practice longer.” Another finger, “You go over to Iwaizumi’s place because he just got the PS5 and you just had to play.” Another, “You forgot to take out the trash this morning which I told you to do before you left.” One more finger, “If you want to play with Iwaizumi so much then go sleep at his place.”

His heart is wounded, still, he tries to be sweet and caring, “You shouldn’t be so stressed honey, it won’t be good for the baby.”

Your glare causes him to retract in his seat, “Oh! So when it’s convenient for you, you’ll use the baby.”

“No that’s not what I meant.”

You begin to spew more words that dagger into his heart, he’s finally concluded that he can’t do anything to cease your anger at him and as he trudges behind you into the shared home, he can already feel the loneliness of the spare bedroom he’ll be sleeping in tonight. As he turns to head straight for the room, you groan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You stand at the doorframe of the main bedroom. Your voice suddenly changes, “Sleep with me.”

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.