#monday i'll be at the same seat of ten years ago

[haalfpipe]

pt. 2

For McDonald's, we never take my car.

Swipe to Monday morning. This is three days of convalescence after vomiting through ten pounds of body weight and this buzzing alarm from outside my head means work. On my nightstand is a clock radio, right beside the thick step four journal. It’s twenty years old. It’s ruined every morning since freshman year. Anymore, most people use their phones as alarm clocks.

Every night I'm standing at the bed and between pushing off my slippers and pulling back the comforter I grab this battery-heavy shell and start stabbing at buttons for the next morning. Even if I'm up at the same time, I'll set all the buttons again for the hour, minute, and annoying wake tone. After twenty years, the buttons feel soft, one more press and they’ll give out: one of the brassed plastic pill-shapes in the alarm panel, or a single digit on the keypad, or the klaxon-like tone of the alarm from wherever it plays inside. Last night I set it for the same time as today. And always it wakes me before the sound begins.

It's a click that jolts me back to the world. It's a subdued click from a Pez-sized switch inside the radio when it turns on before firing the buzzer. The sound of a light switch. Every morning since high school it's the first noise my brain remembers. My eyes are closed, still, seconds into the alarm playing. With the wail my brain spools up to process all recent inputs and from a dead silence the thump of this little relay starts my day.

Ann—this is my wife—she sleeps through it. When she and I are in the same bed it never bothers her.

For eight hours each night she’s perfectly on her back like a happy model in a mattress ad. Reading through alarmist social media from retirees hiding around our neighborhood suggests one day this might save us. Picture an overnight burglar breaking into our place, shining a flashlight down to the carpet in tight circles, inches from his shoes, until the beam slips down the hall to the open bedroom door and finds the head of a pallid cadaver wearing a smile. Ann might as well be grinning back with open eyes.

She’s on her back to protect the porcelain skin stretched across her cheekbones. This is a natural contour, the kind that looks best when supine, and not awake. The people who see her say to me she has clear, beautiful skin. Korean skin. She's not Korean. They always want to know how she does it. They want to know the date and time it happened and what cream she used on the day her skin cleared up. This isn’t on the calendar. It never cleared up because it was never blemished. What she does is hide from the sun while wearing sunscreen. She drinks eight glasses of water. She’s never smoked. She avoids alcohol. When she goes off-menu it’s with fruits, vegetables and whole grains.

This is never what people want to hear.

I don’t want to tell people the wrong thing. There’s more than this to great skin, most of it being money, but I’m not paying attention. I tell them, let me get back to you. Paying attention is easier when there’s something like a greasy hamburger waiting at the end of the day.

If I can make it, there’s a hamburger at the end of today.

This morning my fever has broken into cold wet bedding and what feels like a new back after 24 hours with no other respiratory or gastrointestinal presentation. I'm ready to return to work because it's Monday and that means McDonald's. It means I'll spend the next nine hours anticipating the drive-thru line in her passenger seat. This is every Monday and it's the best part of my week.

I got myself into this because I wanted something to look forward to.

Eight months ago was D-Day. Ann and I learned the term Clinically Isolated Syndrome, or CIS, the predecessor to clinically diagnostic multiple sclerosis (CDMS).

I’m telling myself I deserved this.

I thought at first it had been the monotony of work and mask-wearing in the petri dish of retail, which I've labored through for fifteen years. After so long, I don't feel tired. After so long, maybe I've forgotten how energy feels. How positivity feels. People suffering depression often manifest emotional contrast avoidance, so instead of allowing themselves to shift from a euphoric state to negative emotion, these listless even-keeled worriers prefer to maintain chronic distress to prepare for the worst outcomes.

What I'm prepared for is blood clots in my legs.

With this much standing and walking and lunging around hard floors for eight hours, five days a week, if your calf muscles aren't swollen like mine to the size of a competitive road cyclist, then they're probably swollen with edema. Next time you're out shopping, look for middle-aged store employees hiding bar-height folding chairs in their shadows and you'll spot the ones on diuretics.

After fifteen years I never get tired. I can wear stiff, uncomfortable shoes that look great and my feet never hurt. But last year, the teenagers in my shop started noticing me deflate halfway through the day.

I took more breaks.

For them, feet will hurt. Their legs are stiff. When the shop's quiet I catch one of the boys with the back of his thighs against the wrap stand, hands behind him with palms down against the counter, bearing his weight for a few seconds so the heels of his feet don't have to. The lines in his forehead vanish and his eyelids relax. I remember that. When I was his age it felt good. Anymore, I hoist myself up and there's no change in my legs. My legs never hurt. My legs never feel anything.

Numbness can signal several neurological ailments. Before D-Day, my doctor and her notes chalked this up to pinched nerves.

Swipe to me at work blacking out mid-conversation on what felt like summer's hottest afternoon. I didn't faint, but my vision extinguished into a black abyss and for once I was the one leaning against the counter just to know I was still upright. Wrinkling the muscles in my forehead and rubbing my eyes like I'd just been met with disagreement wasn't a great cover, but I did it anyway and I'm still not sure who noticed, or even how long it lasted. In the darkness I kept talking to whoever was listening. I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and the underarms of my shirt were soaked.

This episode was enough to warrant an MRI for lesions on my brain and an invasive nerve stimulation test during which doctors electrified the nerves in my back and pelvis to see where I could feel pain. Pain was the intention. Pain was the stimulation working. Like something out of a Phillip K. Dick novel.

In the absence of accumulating brain lesions, another doctor on our medical plan made the diagnosis of CIS. Probably, this will progress to CDMS. The doctors prepared me for beginning beta-interferon injections to suspend that inevitability.

What I’m prepared for is more numbness.

I wake up, go to work, and come home to collapse in the evenings. When I’m not at work there’s groceries to sort and leaves to blow. Check the calendar. Go here, see this person. My next appointment. I don't leave the house for anything unplanned.

I got myself into this because I wanted something to look forward to.

A common demand from a brain with addiction or ADHD is meeting consistent, short-term goals.

Swipe to my daily checklist.

Maybe it was always a sign of an addictive temperament to be susceptible to suggestibility for another drink, or another smoke. My dad was an addict and I sucked on a pacifier until I was five.

In Narcotics Anonymous you learn that anything can be addictive. Drugs. Sex. People. Sugar. It can be anything and anyone around you firing the little electrical synapses in your prefrontal cortex and for just a minute you don't feel like shit.

Swipe back to Monday, McDonald’s Monday, while Ann is asleep and my eyes are still crusted shut with me reaching for the blaring radio to push a button.

Nine hours from now I'll be in the passenger seat with a heater under my lap and wrinkly textbooks against my ankles. The two of us will be in a row of cars at a little mechanical window where every so often an arm will poke out, each time with a little brown bag. Eventually it'll be us getting one of these, paper neatly creased into a tent around two double quarter pounders. First, I have to get out of bed and see the calendar.

I lay my head back down on the pillow.

It’ll be the two of us.

Picture it:

All of her fits inside sample sizes of black and white, because at seven-thirty in the morning a walk-in closet of monochrome is one less decision. Even in layers of black rib-knit cotton there's something slight about the space between her thighs, and how her elbows knock against her ribs at a natural waist. Something malnourished. You can imagine her living at the Four Seasons with a room service cart full of tea.

How she looks is unblemished.

How she looks is expensive.

She’s the wish list of a girl who grows up orphaned, sharing old clothes with other kids she calls siblings.

In retail there's a productivity metric computed by dividing the number of people who purchase from a business by the number of people who walk into that business. Conversion, the metric that plummets in her shop everyday because of the peripatetic parade of boys and men who darken her door saying hello. To bring her a coffee, or a bagel, or an engraved wine glass because there’s a weekend house near a vineyard up north that she just has to see.

At the end of the day I get to hear about all of it.

You could write a book watching her leverage into customers all the dads showing tan lines where wedding rings should be, the Cialis-confident retirees who bring their wives to show them they're not old-hat, and the rest of the junkies haunting the mall who can't create emotional connections with anyone but a salesperson, whose job it is to relate. For all of them it's the best part of their days strutting in, shoulders back, eyes searching. Baby pit vipers stretching their necks to find heat. Outside her shop the landing pattern hovers like aircraft awaiting clearance to descend. She never gets to be alone. During a break in the ceremony she turns to the back of the store to let her eyes get so big they pop out below her eyebrows. “You say hi to a guy one time," she says, tightening her lips, head shaking. Her voice is all from the chest. It belongs in front of a microphone. Her eyebrows are still pulled up. How she looks is surprised. She’s walking to the back for her phone.

Then we’re driving.

It’s the middle of summer, but the vents in her car will blow warm air. She'll have the same textbooks on the floor mats. No new creases, no new bookmarks poking from the pages, or little post-it flags expected during college curriculum. Maybe the books move only when I push them away with my shoes on Mondays. Maybe I'm just not looking hard enough because I don't even know the titles. If there are titles.

The books could be about education. She makes it look easy with children. She makes new friends with kids half her height by sharing the same favorite colors. The books could be medicine, or could be nursing. She tells me nurses are in dwindling supply. This statistic was brought to you by the marketing department of our community college, where she shows up for classes.

The miracle is how there's any money left for school. In their thirties, women in retail spend disproportionately on hygiene and self care. This is her life. It requires hours every week. They say the first thing you see in a girl is her eyes, but that's if she's looking at you. With her, until that happens all you notice is how she plays with her long hair and bites it between bright teeth that look like they were set in place by a jeweler. All of her hair is a long, layered cut, highlighted, and smelling of clean chemicals. It's a monthly appointment.

Getting into the drivers seat of the car she shakes off shoes like bear traps and slides into sandals. To look at her you’d never know her job is to stand and dart around everyday for eight hours. Her toes and fingertips are studded with bright shields of chrome white. These are bi-weekly appointments. Throw in microcurrent facials and lip injections and it's three full workdays of self-care every two weeks.

Now I’m paying attention. Ask me again about skin care routines. Every fourteen squares it’s life support, but you can call it self-care.

Her phone is a busy box always cabled to an outlet. It's right there in the car with us. Before pulling on the seatbelt she's dumping it into a cupholder. It's like riding shotgun with my mom, who doesn't know how to disable notifications for any feature of her overheated and over-notified glass rectangle, suffers a constant barrage of dissonant tones and trills from news and games and scam texts for two-factor authentication codes, confusedly poking at it all to make it stop. Picture that, but instead it's all messaging and social media. Now include the camera flash firing for every new alert. And she ignores all of it.

When we drive she talks with me instead. She talks at me. I lay my arm along the plastic trim against the window listening and looking at her like an audience member. Her hair will be gathered so tall in a clip that it brushes against the sunroof. Somehow she watches the road, using peripheral vision when turning the wheel to change lanes. Her eyebrows are still pulled up. Her eyes never blink. They dart to the screens showing feeds from all the little driver-assist cameras pocketed along the body panels.

Her phone isn't abysmal until it's dark outside, the headlights are on, and every twenty seconds WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY erupts with bright strobes from inside the cupholder between us. This is any other girl whose social media is private accounts hidden behind licentious avatars showcasing a hundred thousand followers.

From the passenger seat her car smells like a short green lawn after rain, when the dampness evaporates from grass. Not a thunderstorm; the air smells of ozone and while clean that's too sanitizing to imagine. Rain? She could tell you what she uses. Deciphering scents has always been challenging for me.

Ann can smell everything. In another life, she’s a sommelier with her nose sunk into a glass of Cabernet recognizing notes of burnt chalk and freshly cut garden hose. Does chalk burn? Is that what smelling is like? What about the aerosolized beef fats and cheese of fast food soaking into the upholstery? We’re vegetarians, but when I get the groceries, I eat differently. And after hundreds, maybe thousands of trips together through the checkout line? These cashiers must recognize we’re never buying meat, but they keep my little conspiracy with the deli guy. If I go alone, I'll have a pack of salami unsealed before I push the cart into the lot. I wipe the grease from my fingers to keep stains off the paper grocery bags. Breath mints, hand sanitizer and a few napkins take care of the evidence. Driving home, I’m smelling of alcohol. I could be out all day drinking and do zero cleanup but if I come home with car seats stinking of capicola then I'm sunk.

So for McDonald's, Jenna drives.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

safe haven.

A/N: Don’t mind me, just giving J a normal high school romance--one where his family is not involved. Set in S1 of Animal Kingdom. First time writing for this guy, so let me know what you think 

Pairing: Josh Cody x Black!OC

Rating: 💙 A soft piece with the youngest Cody, and the girl he tries to keep secret from his new found family. 

Request: Convincing J to study bc he's too caught up in the family business to worry about midterms

Words: 3.3k

Josh tightens his grip, crushing the letter in his hand. Left inside the unaddressed envelope, the letter remains unread. There is no point in reading it. J got the gist of the letter from the conversation with the counselor. He discards the crumpled mess in a nearby trash can.

The end of the school week produces a flood of excited teenagers emptying into the parking lot.

J's mind is on the previously discarded letter.

It was a letter of truancy, addressed to his grandmother, his current guardian. It has been months since the passing of J's mother. The school's patience has spread thin. His grades have not dropped, but his attendance has.

His mind is on the letter when he fishes his keys out of his front pocket. His pace slows before he comes to a complete stop a few feet short of his truck. The truck is where he left it, but there's a new addition.

It now has a powder blue backpack on the hood. Seated beside the backpack is the prettiest girl in school.

Cori Edwards has a familiar pair of black shades concealing her dark brown eyes -- now J remembers where he left them. She has abandoned the denim jacket he caught a glimpse of her in earlier. A knowing smile spreads across her face as she watches his eyes linger on the sundress she wears. As his eyes return to hers, J can't deny the smile on his lips.

The last time he saw Cori, for longer than the brief seconds they pass in the halls, was a month ago. This year, it appeared fate wanted to test the two. They had the same classes, the same teachers, but never at the same time. A few months ago, this meant they spent all of their free time stealing kisses at lunch and in the halls. They would then make up for lost time as soon as the school bell rang.

But things have changed too much. 

J's mother didn't keep track of his movements. His grandmother and uncles, J came to learn, analyze his actions. Keeping secrets has become second nature to him since moving into the Cody House. The one secret he swore he'd never reveal was Cori. He hasn't introduced her to Smurf or his uncles. He hasn't shared much about how his life has changed, upon his moving into their house, with Cori.

After so many vague responses, Cori understood it was better not to ask questions. She didn't want to spend her limited time arguing with J. Only, in the last month their limited face time has dwindled. Fizzed out to nothing.

A few texts here. A few long spread out phone calls there.

It was after one of those texts that their last reunion had taken place.

J might have been slightly drunk -- sober enough to drive, and park his truck a block from Cori's parent’s house. He had climbed through her bedroom window. The act itself was not graceful. His tumble through the window at three am woke her dad. Her dad came in to find Cori “still sleeping,” the toppled over AP Calculus and Physics books on the floor enough incentive for him to return to bed.

Once the coast was clear, J managed to strip before climbing into bed alongside her. All she received was a quick kiss before his arm was around her. He was out before his head hit the pillow. He left Cori with no time to inquire about his reasoning behind showing up drunk. Or about the black eye and busted lip. He had to sneak out in the morning before her parents got up.

Rumor has it J’s been showing up to school, even if Cori's rarely seen him there. He shows up for three days, almost like clockwork. Technically, it is enough to stop the school from legally reporting him for truancy. Until the counselor concluded it was time J stopped playing that game--which brings us to J's current situation.

He's standing in the parking lot, keys in hand, staring at his girlfriend -- at least he thinks she's still his girlfriend. Is it weird if he leads with that question?

As he stands before her, the only thought in his mind is how much he's missed her smile.

Jingling the keys in his hand, J regards the innocent smile on Cori's lips before shaking his head.

“You got a tracker on me, I don’t know about, Edwards?”

“Nope. It’s just a Cody sighting is kind of a big deal in these halls,” Cori sighs lightly as her eyes pass over the crowded parking lot. “Word gets around pretty fast when you actually show up.”

Cori’s words don't receive a verbal response. Her eyes are covered, but J knows what look lies inside them. The look causes his eyes to avoid hers. His hand rubs against the back of his neck, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

"Haven’t seen you around lately, Josh." She continues, the warmth of her fingers against his chin lifting J's gaze. Cori raises her sunglasses, her eyes passing over his face. "Nice to know your black eyes is gone."

"Yeah--sorry about that night." The smile on his lips is sheepish as he watches her study his face. He mentally kicks himself for the following line--he knows it's getting old. He says it anyway. "I had some family stuff-"

"That left you drunk with a black eye and busted lip?"

J takes in her raised brow, his shoulders sink.

What can he say?

I got my ass kicked after I was caught in the act of stealing some guy's car. Granted, my uncle saved my ass, but not before I got a black eye and busted lip?

No. He can't say that.

If he does, then he would have to explain why he was stealing a car in the first place. And that is a rabbit hole J isn't willing to jump down--not with her.

The passing of her fingers through his hair causes J to speak up.

"Sorry. I know you're tired of bullshit excuses." He shakes his head.

"I'm used to it," Cori sighs, her hands falling to her lap.

Before he can stop himself, J's hands are on her thighs pulling her closer. His lips are on hers.

"I'm sorry. You look nice," he smiles as his lips press a second kiss against hers.

"Hmm?"

"I’m serious," he chuckles as his hand finds her waist.

"Trust me, I know it’s true," she laughs. "I’m just trying to figure out why it’s taken you so long to say it."

"I’ve been busy," he begins. "With-"

"Family stuff," Cori nods, her hand waving to dismiss the subject. "I know, but that's not what I tracked you down for. I have so graciously blessed you with my presence because you owe me two things."

"What are they?" J's brow arches, a soft smile on his lips.

Cori drops her hand for his cheek. J's eyes remain on her as she leans back, weight resting against her palms.

"I need a ride home," she lightly pats the hood of the car. "And I need a study buddy."

J lets off a light scoff at the latter.

If there is one undisputed fact, it is Cori's academic ranking. She is top of their class. Between the two, J needs a study buddy to catch up to her perfect GPA.

"Okay. When?"

"Tonight, genius," her eyes roll as she pushes against his shoulder. "Josh, please don’t tell me you forgot we have midterms Monday."

J's eyes briefly drift shut.

"Shit--I have a family thing tonight."

"When?” Cori smiles as his eyes pass over the parking lot. The corners of J's lips turn up into a smile before his gaze returns to hers. “I’m just saying...it’s technically not nighttime yet…and being as you haven't seen me in ten thousand years...the least you can do is study with me...”

"What’s it gonna take for me to get out of this?"

Cori pauses to think.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Shaking her head, Cori smiles as her hands find his shoulders. "There is absolutely nothing that you can give me for me to drop this."

"Damn."

"Unless,” Cori bites back her smile as her playful eyes meet his. “You want to tell me how much you missed me.”

“If that’s it,” J sighs, his lips stopping short of hers, “You might want to go ahead and find another ride home--”

“Shut up,” she giggles as his hands find her waist.

Helping her down, J steals a kiss before following Cori to the passenger side of his truck.

"I'm just giving you a ride home."

"Uh-huh." Turning to face him, she smiles as his lips press against hers.

She allows him a second kiss as J's arm wraps around her waist.

“To sweeten the deal,” she beams. “I’ll even let you take me out.”

"What is it?"

Cori's eyes remain on the surfers visible from the parking lot. She watches the girl who manages to ride the swell longer than the rest of the group. When she glances across the truck, she discovers J watching her. 

"What do you mean?" 

A low chuckle escapes J as he watches Cori busy herself with the task of finishing her milkshake. 

"What's on your mind?"

Despite her asking him to stop and grab something to eat, Cori hasn't said much to J. Even if she had, he knew her well enough to grasp Cori was waiting to ask him something. Her brown eyes raise to meet his gaze before she lets out a breath. 

"It's kinda stupid."

"Coming from you?" His brow arches as his fingers interlace with hers. "I doubt it."

Cori's gaze remains on their interlaced fingers as she speaks.

"It's just, the winter formal is coming up. I figured we could go together."

She glimpses up once her suggestion is met with silence. J's brow is a furrowed, a hesitant smile on his lips. 

His thoughts are racing--he's praying this is the initial time she's breached the subject. That he hadn't missed any hints in his haze the past weeks.

"Seriously? You never want to go to those things."

Cori's eyes roll. J's right. In the last two years, neither of them have attended the school’s dances. 

She bites her lip before opting to take another sip of her strawberry shake. 

"You really wanna go?" A light shrug is what J gets in response. "If you want to go, I'll go."

"It's just--we're going to be done with school soon. We have to go to at least one--"

"And prom?"

"That's not up for debate. Your ass is taking me to prom, Joshua Cody." Cori laughs as J's lips press against her fingers. 

J's smile fades as a ringtone interrupts the conversation. He releases Cori's hand before retrieving his cellphone from the truck's console. 

She silently observes as he reads the name on the screen. 

Baz. 

She remembers the name--he is one of J's uncles--but that's where her knowledge ends. The furrow of J's brow sets in as he declines the call.

“So...this family thing," she notes, as his eyes meet hers. Before she can get the rest of her thought out, a text comes through recapturing J's attention. "It must be pretty important.”  

J's shrug seems outlandish when held alongside the urgency of his uncle. In the time it took to eat, J's phone has got several notifications. Each time, he pauses long enough to silence the call and proceeds as if it never came. 

“It’s just a thing with my uncles.” His mood is light as he sets the phone back down. His easiness returns as he meets her eyes. "Smurf's pretty serious about everyone being home for it." 

He can notice the slight hesitance in her eyes before she offers him a smile in return.

Leaning across the car, J presses a kiss against her cheek. His lips drift to her neck. 

"I'll get the tickets Monday," he mumbles as his lips retrace their steps. "Promise."

J's truck is parked engine idling. His left-hand rests against the steering wheel, his eyes on her.

Cori has removed her seatbelt. Her body is turned in the seat so that she faces J. She toys with the hem of her dress instead of moving to get out.

"It was good to see you, J."

"Yeah," J agrees. Her eyes lift to meet his, the soft smile on his lips stretching into a grin. "You too."

J opens his mouth to continue the thought, but Cori has already turned away from him. He watches as she retrieves her backpack from the back seat.  

"Cori," J clears his throat. The action hinders Cori's opening of the door. Her hand hovers over the handle. "Maybe we can hang-"

"Nope.”

J blinks. His brow furrows as a silence falls over the car.

"If you want to see me again," Cori teases, her hand falling from the handle. "It will be in school."

"Why do I have a feeling you're not gonna let this go?" J's eyes roll softly as Cori leans across the car. "You’re serious?" 

"Because I'm not letting this go," she smiles sweetly, ignoring the chuckle the action pulls from J. "And, I'm 'lock my window' serious, Josh. Show up if you want, and I’ll leave you outside."

The smile on Cori's lips grows as J's gaze falls from hers. His tongue passes over his lips as she leans closer.

His eyes drift shut as her giggle fills the car before Cori presses a kiss against his cheek. She leaves a second kiss before moving away. Hopping out of the truck, Cori slips her backpack onto her shoulders.

"Think about what’s important to you, Cody," she beams before shutting the door.

J picks up his phone. The screen lights up as a new text message appears.

6 missed calls. Baz

7 missed texts. Baz

1 missed text. Craig

He opens the most recent notification from Craig.

Dude. Call Baz back so he'll stop losin his shit. You know we got that thing tonight

Cori is in the process of unlocking the door when she hears the sound of his car door slamming. Looking over her shoulder, she smiles as J crosses the driveway backpack over his shoulder.

"Two hours,” he concedes. J is powerless to the tug of her hand as Cori pulls him inside. “Then I have to go. Baz is blowing up my phone.”

"Then we better get started."

J's fingers comb through his hair, the brown eyes trained on him forcing him back to reality.

Judging by the look on Cori's face, this is not the first time she has spoken. Heat rushes to his face as J's gaze reverts to the stack of notecards in his hands.

"Uh--yeah," he clears his throat as he shifts in the computer chair. "That's right."

He steals a second glance at her, the smile on Cori's lips not helping with his current situation.

"Of course it is," she winks. Her gaze returns to the review sheet. She stops to make a note alongside the term The Baroque.

The two are currently in the midst of an AP European History review.

J isn't much help, but Cori doesn't need it. Each of her responses is correct. That's good for J. He's spent the last thirty minutes distracted.

It's a good thing Cori claimed the bed, laying on her stomach as she pulled out her notebook. J took the computer chair opposite of her. If Cori had let him join her on the bed, no studying would have taken place.

It doesn't matter that a month has passed. J hasn't been able to keep his eyes off Cori Edwards since her arrival freshman year.

A smile creeps across his face as J's eyes meet Cori's for a second time.

"You need a break, Cody?" The grin on her lips widens as Cori rests her chin in her hand. "You seem distracted."

"Just thinking about how you don't need these." J lifts the cards in his hands before discarding them on the nearby desk. "You never have."

"Hmm..." Cori's eyes return to the review sheet. She pauses to add more to the notes written neatly in the margins. "True, but you do."

Pushing herself up, she passes over the review sheet. Written neatly in the top right-hand corner is J's name.

"I made this for you Tuesday night."

J studies the sheet for a moment, his fingers massaging his temple as he takes in Cori's study guide.

Shit--she's right. He does need it. He missed the review session on Tuesday. The thing about AP Euro is that it's not as straight forward as Trig. J can ace his Trig midterm in his sleep. AP Euro is a whole separate story.

"Thanks, Cori," he sighs. The grateful look in his eyes as he watches her cross the room earns him a warm smile. "You didn't have to-"

"Oh, trust me, I know." Taking his hand in her, Cori lowers herself down onto his lap. "But, I know you have a lot going on. Besides, making the sheet helped me review for the test."

"I love you. You know that?"

"As you should." Taking his face in her hands, Cori smiles as J meets her gaze. She closes the remaining distance between their lips. "I love you too."

As her lips drift to his neck, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt, J pushes her dress up her thighs.

"I thought we were studying," he chuckles, his lips returning to hers.

"We're taking a break," she giggles. "You’re useless when you’re distracted."

When he wakes, J knows he’s overstayed. He was meant to leave by four. It’s four thirty. 

The cellphone, humming on the surface of Cori’s desk, sounds through the bedroom. J doesn’t lift his head from the pillow. Instead, he watches her face scrunch in irritation as the sound gradually pulls Cori out of her sleep.

“You gotta go?” She breathes, her eyes remaining shut as she tries to fall back to sleep.

“I should,” he chuckles. His finger traces the curve of Cori's shoulder. “Your parents will probably be home soon.”

“You’re right.” A soft giggle follows as J's arm wraps around her waist, pulling her body across the bed. “You should probably go.”

Despite his words, J makes no move to leave the bed. He sinks his face into her neck. His weight presses her into the mattress as her arms wind around his neck. He stays there for almost ten minutes. His eyes closed, listening to the delicate pattern of her pulse. Neither says a word. Cori knows the time has come to let him go when J presses a soft kiss against her skin before forcing himself up.

“I have some family shit I gotta handle,” J huffs as his palms rub against his eyes. “So, um, I probably won’t be on my phone for most of the weekend.”

“Okay.”

J proceeds to redress, his body in no rush to leave, as his phone starts again.

He needs to go. Now.

J has prolonged his return to reality, and the Cody House, long enough. If he doesn’t call back shortly, Smurf might have a heart attack.

J tugs his t-shirt over his head. His eyes focus on the bedroom window. He’s shocked Smurf's car is not parked out front. It wouldn’t be the first time his grandmother has tracked him.

“I just meant--I might not be able to pick up if you call,” he crosses the room to meet Cori. The faint smile on his lips brings one to her. “You can text me.”

“Maybe,” Cori sighs as J's lips caress her cheek. “If I have time. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

She catches sight of his sparkling eyes before J’s lips are on hers. The kiss itself is soft, another step in his lingering goodbye. His lips linger against hers before pressing against hers a final time.

“Hey,” J pulls back, his fingers interlacing with hers. He gently squeezes her hand as she meets his gaze. “Thanks for today. I missed you.”

“You too.”

“I’ll text you later,” J smiles before retrieving his phone and backpack.

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[shiberpostshere]

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

10. Chapter Six: It's okay buddy, get used to it✨

(Images below Text)

Previous Part✨ Next Part✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Date: 07.09.19 ✨

You and your friends have been frequenting Cafe Utopia these days due to the fact that San works there part time and Wooyoung dropps by often as his dance studio falls nearby. You might end up becoming a regular since the Dazzling Night crew uses the place as a daily meeting spot if not working in the recording studio.

The interior of the cafe is as the name suggests, magical and mesmerising. The entire furniture is ebony and golden bulbs hang low from the ceiling, the lighting being ten out of ten.

San had left with Yeri fifteen minutes ago after his shift ended to hang out at the apartment with Wooyoung and Yunho, who together went to the dance club and were also flat-mates.

You might as well just make a friendship chart to trace back all your recent friendships somehow to Seonghwa.

The first ever meeting is to be held today at 5PM. Jongho and you arrived an hour earlier to calm down with caffeine and to pretend to do college work while you just conversed about random topics leading nowhere. He slurped his iced americano as you sipped your black coffee.

“So, you're all cool now? Hundred percent?” He murmurs under his breath while scanning the script given by Yeosang.

The topic of embarrassment hadn’t surfaced back onto your consciousness after texting Seonghwa as you had distracted yourself by binge watching Brooklyn 99 with Yeri for half of the night. Classes occupied your mind in the morning and you only thought about Seonghwa's text with full concentration for fifteen minutes while waiting for your orders at the cafe.

At the end, you decided to just deal with it.

You chug down the remaining beverage. “Yeah. I've decided to face Song Mingi and Park Seonghwa with the power of caffeine and god by my side.” The empty mug feels irritating.

San had warned you before leaving not to get another refill, presumably what might have been your seventh cup of the day.

“You literally groaned like a dinosaur after receiving his text.” He gives you a long face.

“Of course I would! He called me cute, he’s obviously making fun of me.” You pack your study material and open your laptop for the meeting.

He considers a thought for a moment. “Maybe he’s just clueless.”

“He’s actually that clueless.” The sudden comment from Yeosang makes you and your friend jump as he settles down at the table.

Mingi takes a seat beside him along with Hongjoong. "I can vouch for that, you know I've known him since high school."

You and Jongho look around for a moment before taking in the group's sudden arrival.

Seonghwa occupies the remaining seat, beside you and your friend. "I'm literally right here, guys. Hi (Y/N), hey Jongho."

"And?" Mingi says as he unpacks his laptop along with his friends, except Hongjoong.  

You shake your head, crossing your arms below your chest. "You guys are sure acting all cool about the group chat."

Hongjoong is the only one with a notepad in front of him and he replies while studying some scribbles. "We're pretending to be cool about it."

"You seem quite unphased too." Yeosang states with a brow raised.

Jongho answers in your stead. "She's buzzing with caffeine, nothing can affect her."

You nod proudly in agreement and point at your now empty mug. "Yeah, I had six cups of courage coffee."

Seonghwa begins to type on his laptop. "That's disturbingly unhealthy."

"Okay, Grandpa, sure."

"That's no way to address your college senior." He attempts to deliver the statement with a serious voice but you catch the corner of his lips lifting up.

Mingi leans forward gleefully, placing his chin in his palms. "Oh my god, look at you two, flirting like the old times." His eyelashes blink at you devilishly.

You hold up a palm at him like the traffic police, "Okay, Song Mingi, sure." At which he feigns a shocked expression.

Even Seonghwa appears surprised by your response.

Jongho pats on your back, you chuckle. "You go, (Y/N)!"

Hongjoong clears his throat and garners everyone’s attention, “Enough bickering. Meeting time.”

Everyone naturally falls silent at his words.

Seonghwa rubs his palms together. “Okay, alright. (Y/N) and Jongho, welcome to the Dazzling Night team. I will just go through some details, if you wish to, you can note them down.”

Seonghwa begins explaining the agenda and workings of the radio show to you and Jongho. Meanwhile, the others discuss something of their own. You decide to note down the important details.

You learn that Dazzling Night airs from Monday to Friday, every night at 10 PM. Jongho will be joining Yeosang as an announcer. Hongjoong is mostly absent due to other commitments and Seonghwa monitors the process under the guidance of Professor Lee.

You pause for a moment, looking back and forth at the two involved in the conversation. “Hold up, if Hongjoong isn’t involved every night then who will I be working under?”

Seonghwa ponders for a moment on how to answer your question, whilst Jongho avoids your gaze.

A finger taps on your shoulder. “Hi.” Mingi grins at you widely.

Your eyes widen. “You’re the audio engineer?” He nods with the grin ever present.

Hongjoong gently taps Mingi’s cheeks with his pen. “You will be but he attends the dance club in the evening so I will be guiding you through it, don’t worry.”

You fall back into your chair, feeling deflated like a balloon. “Great, that’s great.”

“Who will I be working with?” Jongho questions.

“We’ll be meeting together everyday to go through the script, rehearse and make changes.” Yeosang answers his question.

"And, we'll have follow up group meetings to join those fragments of work together." The mullet guy concludes.

Curious, you turn towards Seonghwa. “What about you?”

He too, offers you his full attention. “What about me?”

“What about him?” Mingi’s voice interjects. “Are you asking what’s his deal? He’s single.”

“I am” The male besides you answers and your jaw drops with shock altogether.

“Why would you answer his question! That’s not what I was asking! I was asking what role do you play!”

You hear Jongho snicker and shove an elbow to silence him.

“Oh.” He bites his tongue in between his teeth. “I am the team leader, I observe and finalize things.” His expression truly appears clueless or he’s extremely good at faking it.

“Um, anyway. Seonghwa will also be monitoring you for the following week. I can’t stay back so he’ll be correcting you in my stead.” The composer’s words cause you to fall back more and more, hoping the chair would come alive and suffocate you to death.

“You’re not entirely unphased.” Mingi eyebrows dance up and down.

Yeosang closes his laptop, concerned. “Seonghwa tends to be like that. Why did you like him back then?”

Mingi attempts to hold back his laughter at the question.

Yep, chair, c’mon, kill me.

Seonghwa slams his palms on the table with a gentle thud. “I am right here, I am literally right here!”

Unable to fathom what's going to happen anymore, you place a hand gently on his shoulder. “It’s okay buddy, it’s okay. Get used to it. It’s the only way.”

Seonghwa glances at your hand, trying to hold back his smile at your gesture.

✨

✨

Pairing: College Student! Seonghwa x College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you "borrowed" once a kiss from. Years have passed and it's a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you're to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

A/N: What is Seonghwa doing? 🤔 (Tumblr didn't save my draft so I had to make the post twice 🙃) Also, this needs serious editing which I'll be doing tomorrow.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 💫

🌸Tags:

@enigmaticsal @missiopk @stardusthyuck @preets-kpop-world @rae-wo0 @sanisms @minjiyeonnie @retrofuture-ism @hongjoongsnoona

Unable to tag: @mingiibabieee

🌸

Please do not repost, modify or claim these images.

[babygirlkiki1016]

The Hunt Begins

When we got to Stanford Dean told me just to wait outside by the Impala. About twenty minutes later I hear voices coming from the building. I see Dean take a glance at me to see if I was still there. Sam was saying something but Dean just rolls his eyes.

"The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors." I heard Sam say as they cross the parking lot to the Impala.

"So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?" Dean growls.

"No. Not normal. Safe." 

"And that's why you ran away." Dean looks away.

"I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it." Sam is silent.

"I can't do this alone."

"Yes you can." I joke, making both of the boys look at me. 

"Yeah, well, as Y/n pointed out earlier which you weren't here for, I don't want to."

"Wait, that's Y/n? Y/D/N's kid?" Sam asked surprised. "You brought his kid here?! Do you know what he's going to do to us when he realizes she's missing!?"

"Uh I believe he already knows." I interrupt.

"Look, she wanted to come so I didn't stop her besides she's eighteen." Dean points out. Sam sighs and looks down, thinking, then up.

"What was he hunting?" Sam asked as Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, then the spare-tire compartment, it's an arsenal.

"Holy crap this is cool!" I exclaimed as Dean props the compartment open with a shotgun and digs through the clutter.

"I know right? All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?"

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asks.

"I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans."

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Dean looks over at Sam.

"I'm twenty-six, dude."

"And then you went to Y/D/N for help?"

"That's about right, she offered to help cause her father wouldn't." Dean pulls some papers out of a folder. "All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy." Dean hands one of the papers to Sam, I look over his shoulder to see. "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA. The paper is a printout of an article from the Jericho Herald, headlined Centennial Highway Disappearance and dated Sept. 19th 2005; it has a man's picture, captioned Andrew Carey MISSING." Sam reads it and glances up.

"So maybe he was kidnapped."

"Yeah. Well, here's another one in April." Dean hands me a Jericho Herald article for each date he mentions. "Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years." Dean takes the article's back from us and picks up the rest of the stack, putting them back in the folder. "All men, all the Same five-mile stretch of road." Dean pulls a bag out of another part of the arsenal. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough." He grabs a handheld tape recorder. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday." He presses play, the recording is staticky and the signal was clearly breaking up.

"Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger...and if you can...Y/D/N's kid." Dean presses stop.

"Wait...he mentioned me." I say silently.

"What does dad want with Y/n?" Sam asks.

"I don't know that's why I went to your dad. So whatever is going on, obviously your part of it."

"Well other than the creepy message involving me, you know there's EVP on that?" I said.

"Not bad, Y/n. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam shakes his head. "All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." He presses play again.

"I can never go home..." Was the voice that was heard, Dean presses stop.

"Never go home." Sam comments, trying to think what it could mean. Dean drops the recorder, puts down the shotgun, stands straight, and shuts the trunk, then leans on it. "You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." Sam looks away and sighs, then looks back. "All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him." Sam submits, Dean nods. "But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here." Sam turns to go back to the apartment but turns back when Dean speaks.

"What's first thing Monday?" 

"I have this...I have an interview."

"What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Dean smirks.

"So we got a deal or not?" Dean says nothing, Sam turns back around and heads back into the building.

"Your brother is certainly...not happy." I look over at Dean who shrugs.

"Eh he'll get over it." Dean smirks and gets back in the car, Dean maybe be smiling but I have a bad feeling about this.

~

Dean comes out of the convenience mart carrying junk food. Sam is sitting in the shotgun seat with the door open, rifling through a box of tapes as I was sitting in the back with the window down. I don't know what he's looking for but it must be important.

"Hey!" Dean says with a smile on his face. Sam leans out and looks at him. "You want breakfast?"

"No, thanks."

"Y/n? I got you coffee, along with some biscuits." He hands me the food.

"Thanks...." I say and take the food from him. "So how'd you pay for that stuff?" Sam  asks. "You and Dad still running credit card scams?" 

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career." Dean puts the nozzle that he left running while he went inside back on the pump. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam swings his legs back inside the car and closes the door.

"Uh, Burt Aframian." Dean gets into the driver seat and puts his soda and chips down.

"And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal."

"That's pretty smart, man I wish I thought of that. Then I wouldn't have had to get a job." I joke as Dean closes the door, Sam looks back at me then at Dean.

"Only a few days and your already a bad influence on her." Sam chuckles. "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection." From what I could see there are at least a dozen cassettes in the box on Sam's lap; some have album art, others are hand-labeled.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two." Sam holds up a tape for every band he names. "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" Dean takes the box labeled Metallica from Sam. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"And that's probably why he has them." I interrupt while sipping my coffee.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape in the player. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." Dean drops the Metallica box back in the box of tapes and starts the engine.

"Wait." Sammy looks back at me as Dean drives off. "Why does she get coffee?"

"Well I asked her what she wanted and she told me."

"You didn't ask me...."

"Suck it up Sammy." Sam made a pouty face, I look down at my coffee then back at him. I reach forward and politely offer him some which Dean notices.

"Aw look at that she's willing to share."

"Shut up." Sam said with a blush on his face as he slowly took my cup.

~

   Sam is talking on his cell phone. "Thank you." He says then closes his phone. "All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue."

"Well at least we know he's ok." I said, making Sam nod in agreement.

"That's something, I guess." Dean glances over at us, then back at the road. At a bridge ahead of them, there are two police cars and several officers. 

"Woah, I wonder what happened." I wondered as Sam leans forward for a closer look, Dean pulls over. We take a long look before Dean turns off the engine. Dean opens the glove compartment and pulls out a box full of ID cards with his and John's faces. Visible ones include FBI and DEA. He picks one out and grins at Sam, who stares.

"Let's go."  Dean gets out of the car and me and Sam follow pursuit. On the bridge, the lead Deputy, leans over the railing to yell down to two men in wetsuits who were poking around the river.

"You guys find anything?" He yells.

"No! Nothing!" The other man who was below us replied. The deputy turns back to the car in the middle of the bridge. Another Deputy, is at the driver's side looking around inside the car. The three of us walk into the crime scene, I felt out of place but the brothers acted like they belong there.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asks as the first Deputy looks up when he starts talking and straightens up to talk to him.

"And who are you?" Dean flashes his badge. "Federal marshals."

"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you? Especially the girl." Dean laughs. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." Dean goes over to the car. "You did have another one just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that."

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam questioned, Jaffe, as it says on his name tag, nods.

"Town like this, everybody knows everybody." Dean circles the car, looking around.

"...And that is why I hate small towns." I state. "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?"

"Uh N-No. Not so far as we can uh tell."

"So what's the theory? I'm thinking insane hitchhiker." Sam goes over to Dean as I keep the deputy busy.

"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean insults, Sam stomps on his foot.

"Thank you for your time." I say and the three of us head back to the Impala. Jaffe watches us go but I could the two talking.

"She's a pretty one ain't she?" Jaffe mentions, I ignored him, pervert I thought. Dean smacks Sam on the head, catching my attention.

"Ow! What was that for?" Sam grumbled.

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?"

"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?" Dean looks at Sam and moves in front of him, forcing Sam to stop walking.

"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." Sam clears his throat and looks over Dean's shoulder. Dean turns to see a Sheriff and two FBI agents.

"Can I help you boys?" The sheriff asks.

"No, sir, we were just leaving." I smile at them, giving them some reassurance and walk past the three men. Dean and Sam head past the Sheriff, who turns to watch us go.

~

Later we decided to go talk to this young woman, the second deputy's daughter I believe. As we walk up the street the marquee on the Highland Movie Theater reads in big bold letters: EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING SUNDAY 8 PM BE SAFE OUT THERE. Below that a young woman is tacking up posters with Troy, the missing boy's face and the caption "Missing Troy Squire". The three of us approach.

"I'll bet you that's her." Dean says

"Well no shit sherlock, if course it's her." I joke, the boys turn towards me.

"Listen sweetheart you may be helping us, but that doesn't give you the right to curse."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say shit, fuck, crap. Sorry!" I giggle, making Sam smirk. Dean ignores me and walks up to the young woman.

"You must be Amy." Dean points out.

"Yeah." She says as she looks towards us. "Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy and that's-" Dean was saying, trying to think on what I should be. "-my girlfriend Y/n." I give him a weird look and so does Sam, girlfriend? I thought. He couldn't have gone with sister or something?

"He never mentioned you to me." Amy walks away as the three of us tag along.

"Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"We never really talk to Troy much, teenager's these days. Never wanna hang out with the adults." I chimes in as another young woman, comes up to Amy and puts a hand on her arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks, while eyeing the three of us.

"Yeah." Amy replies.

"Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?" I asked. "You probably know my nephew to be better then I do."

"Woah trying to get married already babe" Dean jokes as he puts an arm around my shoulder. "I thought the man asks the woman?"

"Well, 'darling' technically I am the one who is the man in this relationship." Sam and the two girls try not to giggle.

~

The five of us are sitting in a booth, Dean and Sam opposite Amy and Rachel while I'm sitting at the end of the table with a normal chair. The chair was turned away from the table as I was facing the four if them.

"So...Amy." I start. "What happened the night Troy disappeared?"

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did."

"He didn't say anything strange?" Sam asks, Amy shakes her head.

"No. Nothing I can remember."

"I like your necklace." I state, Amy holds the pendant she's wearing, a pentagram in a circle, and looks down at it.

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents-" Amy laughs. "-with all that devil stuff.

"Do you know where he got it?"

"Um...no actually."

Sam laughs a little and looks down, then up.

"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam says.

"Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries."

Dean jokes, takes his arm off the back of Sam's seat and leans forward. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything..." Amy and Rachel look at each other. "What is it?"

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." Rachel, the other girl says. Dean and Sam speak in chorus. "What do they talk about?"

"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean looks at Sam, who watches Rachel attentively, nodding. "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

"So let me guess you believe in this so called legend?" I ask.

"It's a possibility, you never know." Sam and Dean look at each other.

Considering that Rachel mentioned this legend, we made a trip to the library. Dean was in the computer with a web browser open to the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. The words "Female Murder Hitchhiking" are typed into the search box. Dean clicks go; the screen tells him there are "(0) Result". Dean replaces "Hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway" with the same response.

"Your not gonna find anything in the internet. You gotta go old school." I point out.

Sam sighs, who is sitting next to him, watching.

"Let me try." He offered, Dean smacks Sam's hand.

"I got it." Sam shoves Dean's chair out of the way and takes over. "Dude!" Dean hits Sam in the shoulder. "You're such a control freak."

"You two are definitely brothers." I giggle, the boys just shake there heads. I push both of them out of the way "If you want to find a spirit, you gotta go dark. Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?"

"Yeah." Dean agrees.

"Well, it's not murder." I replace "Murder" with "Suicide" and find an article entitled "Suicide on Centennial". Both if the boys seemed surprised. I open the article, dated April 25, 1981, I read what the article had to say. "A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county Sheriff's Department said earlier today. Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at mile 33 of Centennial Highway, and subsequently drowned last night. Deputy J. Pierce told reporters that, hours before her death, Ms. Welch logged a call with 911 emergency services. In a panicked tone, Ms. Welch described how she found her two young children, 5 and 6, in the bathtub, after leaving them alone for several minutes. I continued to skim the article. " Here this is what the husband said, What happened to my children was a terrible accident. And it must have been too much for my wife. Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it. Now I ask that you all please respect my privacy during this trying time."

"So she committed suicide." Sam says. "Good job Y/n."

"Quiet there's more. At the time of the children's death and Ms. Welch's subsequent suicide, Mr. Welch was at the Frontier auto salvage yard, where he works the graveyard shift as associate manager. Connie might have been quiet, but she was the sweetest, most caring girl I ever knew, said Deanna Kripke, a neighbor. She just doted on those children."

Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Hm. The bridge look familiar to you?" Dean asks.

~

The three of us walk along the bridge, then stop to lean on the railing and look down at the river.

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean states.

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks.

"If your dad was here then he would've stopped the spirit right?" I wondered.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him."

"Okay, so now what?"

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while." Sam stops and looks at Dean.

"Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-" Dean turns around.

"Monday. Right. The interview."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some Lawyer? Marry your girl?"

"Maybe. Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Sam steps closer, I could tell a fight was about to break out.

"No, and she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

Dean turns around and keeps walking, Sam follows.

"Guys c'mon we got more important things to do." I state.

"Stay out of this Y/n!" Both of them say at the same time.

"Who am I really Dean?" Sam says.

"You're one of us." Sam hurries to get in front of Dean.

"No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."

"You have a responsibility to-"

"To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." Dean grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. Instantly I push Dean back, he begins to protest.

"Y/n-"

"No enough out of both of you. Focus, look if San wants out if this life then so be it. You can't change that, I may not know much about what you guys do for a living but I know damn well I wouldn't want to be hunting monsters all the time."

"What do you mean don't know much about what we do?" Sam questioned, clearly aggravated. "You brought her into this!"

"She decided this not me! I gave her the offer to walk away!"

"That wasn't her decision to make! If Y/D/N kept her out if this then you shouldn't have brought her with you!"

"She's eighteen! She can do whatever the hell she wants!"

"No Dean she's not eighteen! She's seventeen! She doesn't turn eighteen till (your birthday)." Dean looks at me, clearly surprised that I lied. However I wasn't paying attention, the spirit of Constance was standing at the edge of the bridge.

"Uh guys." The boys forget there argument and stand infront of me, like I'm something to be protected. Consance looks over at them, then steps forward off the edge. We run to the railing and look over.

"Where'd she go?" I asked.

"I don't know." Sam said, then behind us, the Impala's engine starts and its headlights come on, catching our attention.

"What the-who the fuck is driving your car!?" Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. The car jerks into motion, heading straight for them.

"Run!" I yell. The car is moving faster than we are, when it gets too close, the boys dive over the railing but it was to late for me.

The New Hunter Masterlist

[lancetuckershairgel]

Summmary: Chris uncovers some unsettling truths about Lucy's home life. Lucy becomes angry with Chris.

Word Count: 1,560

Warnings: language, mentions of abuse of a minor

Tag List: @southernbell91 @marvelgirl7 @anxiousamandapanda @book-dragon-13 @jobean12-blog @loricameback @spacemansam @randomfandompenguin @louisianaspell (If you wish to be added or removed in the tag list for this, let me know)

"Leave me alone!"  Lucy yelled as she jerked away from Miss Alexander's reach. "God, can you people not be prison wardens for like five minutes?! Fuck"

"Lucy!" 

The teenager ignored her superior and stir.ed to her class, taking her seat. The Language Arts teacher raised her eyebrows but continued with the lesson, choosing not to fight the battle today. It was Monday and everyone hated Monday's. Especially Chris who was now making his way toward the classroom. He entered, apologizing to the teacher for interrupting, and asked Lucy to join him in the hallway. Lucy ignored him, hoping he'd just leave and glared from underneath her hair covered face as he approached desk. 

"I'm not asking this time. Get up."

Again, the girl didn't reply. Chris sighed,  hating what was to come next. All part of the job, but the riskiest part. Chris stood behind her desk and reached his arms under hers, pulling her up from her desk. She didn't fight him, instead she became dead weight, forcing him to drag her out into the hallway. Waiting for them was the principal, the vice principal,  and the school counselor. 

"Lucy, you were asked repeatedly to remove your hood. You know the rules. No head coverings of any kind inside the school."

"Are you gonna make Inya take her headscarf off?" Lucy grumbled 

"That's different. She has religious exemption."

"Well I have exemption too under the fact that I don't want to."

"Lucy."

Chris was behind her and his voice made her aware of his presence, her stance instantly becoming defensive. 

"Take your hood off and drop the attitude."

"Or what Chris?" Lucy turned toward him, her tone aggressive "You gonna take me down? Cuff me and break my arm?" 

"That's not...have you been reading the news again?"

"No, but all you cops are the same."

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"Just one day, please, could you not be difficult? I was in the middle of a-" 

"Fine!" 

Lucy's sudden scream made the adults jump, taken aback, but not Chris. He remained calm, watching the girl as she reached up and yanked the hood away from her face and pushed her hair away. Soft gasps littered the air as the bruises on Lucy's face and neck were revealed. 

"Lucy, what happened? Are you alright?" Ms Broman, the counselor, asked 

"Oh, now you care?! Five minutes ago you didn't give a shit why I was wearing my hood, you just wanted me to comply to your stupid rules." 

She glared at the women before turning to glance up at Chris.

"Well?"

Chris didn't know what to say. He was shocked, which surprised him. He always had a feeling that something was going on at home, but seeing the proof shook his core. 

"We should go to my office." Ms Broman suggested 

"I just want to go back to class." 

"Lucy, we should talk about this." Chris managed to say

"Talk about what? I got my ass kicked this weekend, big deal. I just want to do my work."

"Who did this? Was it a student?"

"No."

"Your father?"

"Why can't you people leave me alone?!" Lucy cried, pushing past the staff and running up the hallway. 

They were dumbfounded, all standing there looking at each other as they wondered what to do next. 

"I'll talk to her, figure this out." Chris sighed 

"Good. She listens to you." Ms Broman nodded in agreement "We're really going to miss the Lucy Whisperer when you leave."

Chris chuckled before they dispersed. He knew where Lucy would be hiding and sure enough he found her in his office, curled in the saucer chair, her hood pulled tight over her head. 

"Luce?" Chris sat on the edge of his desk "You ok, kiddo?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Who hurt you?" 

No response. 

"Lucy? Did your dad do this?" 

Nothing. 

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"Ha!" Lucy's laugh dripped with sarcasm "Help? How can you help? Call the child services people?"

"I'm required by law to call them if there's a child that needs-" 

"Needs what? An even worse ass beating? You think this is the first time something like this has happened? Every time some grownup tells me they're going to help, then they call the cops. Cops come, old man gets out of trouble, and I get it ten times worse. So why don't you help by minding your business." 

Chris spent the rest of the day trying to convince Lucy to let him make the call but she begged and pleaded until he relented and raises his hands. 

"Fine. I could lose my job, you know."

"Just say you took care of it."

Chris couldn't sleep that night. Every time he  closed his eyes all he could see was Lucy and the bruises. Guilt laid heavy in him and he knew he should make the call but he also knew how much damage it could do. The judicial system was so backwards, and the department of family and children services didn't like to take kids out of their homes,  even with solid proof. The next morning Chris went into the school feeling like a zombie and he was sure that his unkempt hair and baggy eyes showed that he had a rough night. Instead of going to his office he went to the hallways, looking for Lucy. He found her trying to threaten another kid into giving her his breakfast but she stopped when she saw Chris. 

"Hey, kiddo. You okay?" 

She jerked away from him, ignoring his question and storming off to her class. The entire day went by without a word from Lucy's teachers, and he didn't know if he should be worried or relieved. As he finished up a last minute document for the ROTC speech he was giving the next day,  a knock on his door caused him to stop. 

"Come in."

Ms Broman walked in with concern written across her usually cheerful expression. 

"Have a seat. Is everything okay?"

"No, not really. Lucy's current situation is alarming."

"Certainly."

"I asked around for a bit of Intel on her and I'm not liking what I'm hearing. She refused to write an assignment last week, which you know isn't like her, about her family. Did you know that throughout the entire school year she's not once eaten a meal here?"

"I didn't know that." 

"I asked the lunch staff and it turns out there's not a dime in her account. Hasn't been all year. Students say that she threatens them for food."

"Explains this morning." Chris thought to himself as he processed the information "What do we know about her parents? Anything?"

"I pulled her file, she moved her over summer, her mother died four years ago. No one has ever seen or talked to the father." 

"Past records from the previous schools?"

"That only shows her grades and any incidents. There weren't any alarming ones, but she did get suspended in middle school for selling slime on campus." 

"Slime? That doesn't seem like something she'd do." 

Chris made a few notes and finished his conversation with the counselor. He went home for the day, still unable to focus on anything other than Lucy. 

The next morning he was surprised to see Lucy waiting for him in front of his office door, arms crossed. 

"Good morning." He greeted her with a soft smile as he unlocked the door and gestured for her to come in "How are you today?"

"Cut the shit, Chris." She spat, glaring at him "You're the fakest person I've ever met, you know that?" 

"What do you mean?" Chris took a sip of his coffee as he looked at her 

Lucy uncrossed her arms and waved the flier she had been holding in his face 

"Goodbye Rally? You want to explain?"

"The school wants to hold a goodby for me on Friday.  Not my kinda thing, but not my choice." 

"So you're leaving?"

"I am. I had to get a new job that works better for my schedule." 

"Were you planning on telling me?" 

"Oh, you care?" 

"Fuck you." 

Tears filled Lucy's eyes, her face red with frustration. 

"Lucy…"

"It's because of me isn't it?"

"What? No, Luce, that's not it at all"

"Then why?! Why leave somewhere you're needed? These kids, the ones you mentor, the ROTC kids you work with. They need you."

Chris frowned, his gut feeling as if it had been punched. He didn't want to leave his job at the high school, but if he ever wanted to finish his night classes and get his counseling degree, he had to.

"They're bringing in a new resource officer. I know her and she'll do a gild job with everyone."

"You can't leave." Tears streamed down Lucy's face "Please. I promise I won't cause any more trouble, I won't talk back or cuss ever again."

"Lucy, this has nothing to do with you." 

"You don't care, do you? This is just a paycheck for you, you don't care what happens to us. Fucking liar."

Chris started to reply but was cut off by Lucy balling up the flier and throwing it in his face. She stormed out, slamming the door closed behind her. Chris sat down in his chair and buried his face in his hands, groaning. 

[kez2402]

Hang In There// Peter Parker (1)

Chapter 1

I've know Peter Parker my whole life. We lived in the same city, went to the same schools. We use to be best friends, key words: use to be. Ever since our journey into Midtown High, we lost touch. We found our own groups of friends, each differing very much from the other. Nevertheless, I still considered Peter Parker a friend. I got dragged into the popular group by none other than Harry Osborn, an old friend of Peter's, but also my older brother. To be quite honest, I didn't exactly feel like I fit in with my clique. I always envied the friendship that Peter shared with Ned and MJ, it was so innocent and true, something that didn't exist in many of the popular groups. So that's why I got out. I traded the popular status for friends who didn't care if I turned up in tracksuit bottoms over a mini skirt. We got classified as the 'nerds' of the school. Did I care? Absolutely not. I knew I was valued more with these three than with a group of ten or more. 

Life at home wasn't what anyone would expect. Our mother died in a family house fire years ago, leaving our family.....broken. Our father, Norman Osborn, was never the same after it. He pushed us away, his work and company being prioritized over his own children. It was tough to say the least, but at least we had each other, and we both had Peter Parker. Harry always lived up to the definition of an older brother, that overprotective nature always coming through in some shape or form. We were known as the 'rich kids' but only Harry could ever carry that title so proudly. Being a 'rich kid' meant your parents were rich, with good high paying jobs, meaning there was very little time left for family. Which is why I practically grew up in the Parker household. Aunt May and Uncle Ben were like parents to me. They fed me, took care of me, loved me, something my brother and I never got off our father. Especially lately, there was a new experiment they had going and there was nothing that could pull him away from Oscorp. Turns out, I couldn't get away from it either.

It was Monday morning and it rained. And rained. And rained. You could call it pathetic fallacy for the weather certainly reflected my mood: gloomy. Why? Because we were going on a school trip. It wasn't the trip itself thag caused my gloomy mood, it was the place we were going to that caused it: Oscorp. The place that made a man love it more than he loved his own son and daughter. Strange things happen in Oscorp, most of which are brushed under the mat...... Like me.

I met up with Peter, Ned and MJ outside the gates of Midtown High. MJ being the only one with the brain cells to think of bringing an umbrella. We chatted about our weekends while we waited another five minutes for the bus to arrive. When it did, people were quick about getting out of the rain. Peter sat with Ned while I sat with MJ in front of them. It wasn't a long journey to Oscorp, maybe half an hour tops. The sight of the ugly glass building was enough to dampen my mood even further, Peter questioning it as we got off the bus.

"Hey, Sof. You okay?"

I smiled back at him and replied with a short 'yep' as the students of Midtown made their way into the building. There was something eery about Oscorp, something I couldn't put my finger on. Perhaps it was the events of that day many years ago that made me dislike the building so much. But nevertheless, I was here. It was interesting what they were showing us, from the beginning up until now. However, I took particular interest in the radioactive spider. Such a strange experiment. The affects of radiation on a spider. I was stood beside Peter, him spitting out random facts to me the whole time. I didn't mind though, it was cute to see him so passionate about science.

"Ow."

I saw Peter raise his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it gently, a look of discomfort on his face. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, Pete?"

He went pale very quickly and I thought he was going to pass out right there and then. So, I took him by the arm and guided him outside of Oscorp, hoping some fresh air would help. We sat on the top step of the stairway to the building, a glass panel saving us from the rain. The boy beside me kept his head in his hands, causing concern to build up inside me. I placed a hand on his back, I could feel his body flinch under my touch.

"Pete, how are you feeling?"

He removed his head from his hands, allowing me to see his eyes in behind the thick framed glasses. He gave me a small smile in return.

"I'll be fine, just nausea. It'll go away once Aunt May gives me some of her favourite medicine."

I chuckled at the brunet's simple joke, knowing all too well what medicine he was referring to. Some sort of homemade recipe Aunt May had discovered one day, we haven't looked back since. My friendship with Peter Parker had always played on my mind, morning, noon and night. Did he still consider me one? A friend? Or had I been demoted to simply an acquaintance? Someone he knew.

"We're still friends, right?"

Peter looked at me with confusion written across his face.

"Of course we are. You've been my best friend since...... Well forever."

A smile had made itself onto my face as we sat there. Just remembering all the memories from our childhood together, the stupid things we use to do, the amount of trouble we got into and of course, the consequences for them. It was Sof and Pete. Pete and Sof. You couldn't have one without the other. And it seems that, even though we had drifted, Sof and Pete are still the friends they were when they were ten years old.

_____________________________________

That evening I walked Peter home, to make sure he was okay after the incident at Oscorp. I had an errand to run that side of town anyways so it was really a win-win situation. We reached the Parker residence soon after five p.m., just in time for dinner. I stood outside the door as Peter walked in, looking back giving me a 'why aren't you coming in' look. I could hear Aunt May call from the kitchen saying he was just in time for dinner.

"Dinner is just ready, I'm sure there's plenth for another person."

"Oh, no I couldn't, Pete. Honestly I should probably be going."

I smiled at his efforts but he just raised an eyebrow at me, a smirk growing on his lips.

"May, you'll never guess who's come to visit."

My eyes widen with shock as I glare at the boy, if looks could kill he'd be dead a hundred times over. Without a second to spare Aunt May was at the door, a huge smile making it's way onto her face.

"Sophie!"

She wrapped me in a hug before pulling back, keeping her hands on my shoulders and looking at me.

"It's been so long! You've grown into a beautiful young woman. Hasn't she, Pete."

My eyes flickered over to Peter to see his cheeks go a new shade of red as he replied with a shy 'ye'. Next thing I know I'm being dragged inside for dinner. To say I didn't enjoy my time with the Parkers would be a complete lie because I truly did love it. That same warm and homely feeling had never left. It was as if I had only been over yesterday, not 3 years ago. Nevertheless, nothing had changed between us, it as something constant in a world of constant change.

"What's the time?" I asked, tidying up my dishes.

"It's half six."

I checked the time again to make sure I wasn't imaging things. I was so late. I rushed around the the kitchen helping where I could and collecting my things.

"Thank you so much for the food, May! It was lovely to see you again!  Bye!"

I rushed out the door and got to the large building as soon as I could. I waited inside the waiting room for roughly fifteen minutes before a smart looking lady came out.

"He's ready to see you now."

I stood up and straightened out my outfit, presenting myself as confident despite my panic not so long ago. I entered the office and took a seat, as did he. Once comfortable I leaned back in my seat, crossing my legs.

"So, Mr. Stark, what can I do for you?"

_________________________________

To read the full story go to Kez2402 on Wattpad or click on the link below:

[apotatomashedbybts]

I'll Be Your Knight

[GENRE: fluff, slight angst

Pairing: Jimin×reader, Taegi

Soulmate!Taehyung , BestFriend!Yoongi

Word Count: 3.5k+]

[Summary: When Y/n met Jimin she knew that it was a love at first sight. But she didn't expect the consequences that came with loving him. After their unwilling separation will Y/n be able to do what it takes to get him back?

A story of love, loss, fight, dreams, and friendship...]

Chapter XI : The Longed Reunion

Jimin's memory was quite sharp as he seemed to remember Jinnie when I only mentioned him and his café occasionally or may be I did mention him a lot subconsciously. Either way he remembered everything I told him about Jinnie. I got to know that during tonight's video call with him. I was going to go back to UK next week and I still didn't figure out how was I going to face Jimin. I wondered whether he was ready to face me or not. Or maybe he was planning to hide from me. I didn't know, more precisely I didn't want to know. I just wanted to face him bang on and confront him for everything. Thinking about all these made me sigh draining the air out of my lungs. When I was busy thinking about all these things I received a message from Jinnie who wanted to have an urgent video call. 

Jinnie: Hey! Were you sleeping?

Me: Was going to. What's up? Aren't you busy?

Jinnie: I just got a break since it's afternoon.

Me: It seems weird that you need to actually ask your staffs to give you a break when it's your own café! Ha ha ha!

Jinnie: Hey don't laugh! You know how it is.

Me: Of course I know how much you care! So what is it that you were so eager to talk about?

Jinnie: Umm.. Jimin was asking about you.

Me: WHAT? How did he know that it's your café? He didn't even see you there for once!

Jinnie: Well, it seems like he remembers what you told him about me! Today he came looking for me and asked my staff if I was here. My staff replied that they didn't know anyone named Seokjin here as I taught them earlier in case of emergencies since I didn't want my cover to blow up! But he was persistent, so I kinda gave up and came out. We talked for awhile and he asked me about you. He seemed genuinely worried and sorry. I told him that you were fine. Thank me later for not mentioning to him about your wrecked state a month ago. But yeah that's it. And don't worry, I didn't tell him about our investigation!

Me: .....

Jinnie: Stop worrying. Everything will be alright! Just come back quick! I miss you!

Me: Jinnie, I don't know how to thank you... I'll be leaving next Friday night. I just hope nothing more happens. That's enough adventure already.

Jinnie: I hope so too! I can't wait to eat loads on your marriage!

Me: Shut up!

Jinnie: Okay okay! Good night.. have some beauty sleep! You look awful!

Me: Yeah. Bye! Let's talk later...

[Pause]

Jinnie?

Jinnie: Yeah?

Me: I miss you too.

Jinnie: [Smile] Yeah I know.. now go to sleep! I am disconnecting the call.

...

"So, is this where we depart?" Tae sighed dramatically, keeping his right hand on his eyes and pretending to cry.

"Yeah! I guess so. Tae, these past days were so beautiful with you... I can't even imagine how am I gonna live without you shouting near my ear. I hope I never meet you again!" I started with a sad face and ended the with a loud laugh, gaining a smack from Tae.

Yoongs sighed smilingly at our dramatic self and shaking his head pulled me into a hug and whispered, "I am gonna miss you so much! Just finish that stupid study and come back quickly to us!"

"Are you crying?" I looked up at Yoongs mockingly and wiped away his dry cheeks.

"Aish!" He left a hollow chuckle and said, "Like I would really cry for you! Right Tae?" After saying this he looked at Tae, which made me turn my head at him too. But we couldn't see him and our eyes automatically went to the floor only to see him crouching there folding himself into a ball and sobbing quietly. We almost immediately crouched down near him and made him stand up, he was still sobbing. Being the stronger one I had hold myself until now but seeing him like that I broke down too. We hugged each other and cried like two five year olds who would never see each other again. After a minute Yoongs joined us too and we could feel that people were staring at us while passing by but we didn't care, it was our emotion that had nothing to do with those people. I still had time in my hand before boarding, knowing our departing nature we had arrived here almost two hours prior only to avoid missing my flight like last time. And before we knew, Tae and I found ourselves sitting on the waiting chairs rubbing our running noses and hiccuping, like I said earlier, like some five year olds who had just been scolded by their parents, whereas Yoongs went to buy us something to eat, taking up the role of our parent as he always did. I did miss Hobi and felt sorry that he couldn't come to see me off because it was Friday and he also said that he was really bad with good byes.

Within a blink of my eyes, I found myself waving at them as a goodbye and turned around to hide the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. Deep down I knew that they too were in the same state I was in. I held my terrible urge to look back at them because I knew that if I did that I would end up being in their arms.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes after coming out of the airport, only to see Jinnie waiting there for me with a warm smile on his face. A smile made its way to my mouth as soon as I saw him and though I was still missing Tae and Yoongs I knew that I won't be left alone here. Entering Jinnie's car I lied down at the back seat because I was in terrible need of a good sleep. Jinnie, paying a small glance, just smiled widely at my layed down figure and started driving. I was glad that he came to pick me up - the taxi drivers here were quite rash unlike Jinnie, who was a good and gentle driver.

"Y/n/n! Wake up! We are here!" I heard a distant voice calling me in my dream and then a sudden jerk pulled me out of that, only to tell me that it wasn't a dream, it's Jinnie who was trying to wake me up. I sat up with a whine which more precisely sounded like a groan. I looked at Jinnie adjusting my eyes to the sunlight that was invading my eyes and noticed that we were in front of his café, which made me realise that I was hungry and as if my brain just registered the feeling, my stomach made a loud growling sound. I looked at Jinnie sheepishly and he started to laugh loudly at my state which only made me to land a series of smacks on his back.

Entering the café I inhaled deeply. I missed the smell of freshly baked croissants that is made here and only Jinnie's café provided with almost ten types of croissants fillings that were totally worth dying for! As I was busy doing my 'nose' job, Jinnie came and pushed me through the glass door behind the counter which led to his chamber or office, which was more like a small apartment where there were all the necessities that he needed as he spent most of his time here in the café, and making me sit down at his small dining table, went out to bring me some food.

He brought some of his croissants and making me settle down with those went to make some poached eggs in his makeshift kitchen.

A proper English breakfast was Jinnie's favourite and whatever he made was my favourite. While munching on the sausage I looked at him and seeing him taking a long sip on his tea I understood that he was preparing to say something so I looked at him curiously after swallowing whatever was left inside my mouth.

As I had suspected he started, "So, how are you going to face him? Your classes are starting on Monday and he knows that. Are you planning to talk to him on that day?"

Seeing my saddened and haven't-decided-yet face he kept his hands on mine and said, "You don't have to stress yourself on this. Things will go on with the flow so I think you should take rest today and may be think out what you'll say once you meet him." After pausing for a while, as if remembering something he said, "Oh! By the way, he is going to come today too. And also tomorrow. He comes here everyday! So you can stay here until he arrives and see for yourself, from a hideout of course!" Then smiling at me he took away the plates. It was time for him to get to work, he was already late because of me. I laid down on his bed after he went out putting on his uniform. I could feel my heartbeat gaining speed the more I thought about facing Jimin. What was I going to say to him? Should I keep a poker face or should I keep all my devastating emotions in front of him? I didn't know and thinking of these made my head ache, my heart too. Relaxing only seemed to be the best option.

I woke up with a start and noticed that I was sweating profusely. Was I having a bad dream? I couldn't remember much except a vaguely dark place where I saw Jimin crying for help. It was definitely a bad dream. I washed my face and after returning saw that Jinnie came with some food as it was lunchtime. This was his busiest time so almost stuffing the lunch in his mouth he went out after telling me that Jimin was here. I could feel my heart stop for a good minute. I pulled myself towards the door and through the small and almost transparent glass I could see him, that baby face which lost its puffiness, ordering food at the counter and talking to Jinnie. I could sense that Jinnie was holding himself from looking at this way and also from giving away any information about me being there. I didn't know that I missed him so much that I forgot to blink while looking at him for the whole time he was there. After finishing his lunch he got up to leave. Waving a little bye to Jinnie he went out of the door. Before I could register my legs were already on the move and before I knew I was moving frantically towards the main door only to catch a last glimpse of him. I could hear a faint voice behind me calling my name but I could care less. I reached out for the door handle to open it but someone opened it from outside and I was face to face with Jimin. Suddenly the world stopped, completely, along with myself. Everything surrounding me blurred out and the only thing I could see was him, his changing expression that ranged from surprised to alerted and his turning away to escape. But before he could do that, in a split second, I found myself hugging him, clasping him tightly as tears began to flow out making my cheeks and his shoulders wet.

.

I was still hiccuping in Jinnie's embrace while Jimin was sitting across me awkwardly, not knowing how to deal with the situation.

A few minutes ago, Jinnie realising that we were putting up a show for the customers in the café took us to his office after telling his staffs to manage for now. After I went back to somewhat a normal state, Jinnie made me drink water and left rather abruptly after saying, "I think I should leave now and it's time for you to have the 'talk'." But he didn't forget to give Jimin the 'you hurt her, you die' look before leaving. I could feel Jimin's uncomfortable shifting at that which made me facepalm mentally.

Jinnie could say it easily to us to have the talk but I knew how difficult it was for us. I wanted to ask so many things and also say so many things back but everything became a mess and formed a lump in my throat. But if we stayed like this nothing was going to get solved. Just thinking back about the day that he left made my eyes swell as new droplets of tears began to form. I raised up my hands to wipe off the tears with my sleeve and opening my eyes I saw that Jimin was kneeling right in front of me. Seeing him that close startled me and I instinctively moved my head back.

"Y/n/n please forgive me. I know I am at a fault but everything I did was for you!" He took my hands in his warmer ones and looked into my eyes yearningly.

"For me?" I was clearly surprised and wanted a clearer explanation, "What are you talking about?"

Jimin sighed heavily and as if thinking that I deserved an explanation he sat down comfortably near my foot, still holding my hands, and began saying, "There are some things that I came to know of recently. I have been keeping them to myself and decided to continue doing so but it was becoming difficult, believe me, it really was. That night, at almost midnight, my dad revealed to me that he wasn't what I thought he was and we needed to run away from there as early as we could because some really dangerous people were after us. He also said that he would explain everything to me once we are at a safe place. I didn't tell you anything or anyone because I sensed that any contact with me only cause harm to all of you. And I can't afford that. I can't afford losing you. The fact that you are alive and happy was enough for me to be at peace, even if it meant that I would have to live far away from you. I think it's no use holding it in anymore. I never told you but I was falling in love, with you y/n/n. You matter to me, more than anything else." The emotions all came flooding in and I began to shake at the sudden surge of unknown happiness as my eyes teared up again. I leaned forward and rested my forehead on his and tried to mutter out, "J-jimin, I...I ..." He stopped me from saying anything by keeping his forefinger on my lips and said, almost whispering, "You don't have to say. I know.." The words lingered in the air for a moment, then our lips met. It felt like nothing else existed at that moment except us and the emotions that we had for each other. Our lips against each other basking themselves in the passion and longing, didn't want to separate. And we both wished that it lasted longer.

The sudden sound of the door opening and a quick stuttered apology from Jinnie made us break out of our world. We were clearly embarrassed but Jinnie was more discomposed than we were. Jimin hurriedly rose from where he was and took his former seat. I was somewhat offended at the sudden interruption, so I looked at him and I didn't realize that I was glaring hard until Jinnie shrunk at my gaze, apologetically. That made me soften my expression and I asked him to relax.

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and said, "Sorry for barging in like that. Actually I received this message from Tae and I just wanted to check for myself so I was just peering through the glass but I think I need to reinstall the locks of this door since they couldn't even tolerate my weight." He smiled again and handed me his phone to let me see Tae's message

I facepalmed visibly and blurted out, "What am I going to do about him?"

Jimin looked at me curiously, so I showed him the text and smiled sheepishly saying, "Soulmate problems." And took a mental note that I HAVE to remember blocking certain feelings from now on.

At dinner, I invited Jimin and Jinnie over to my apartment, mostly to discuss and know about the things that Jimin still had to say to me, and more than partially to spend as much time as I could with Jimin.

Three of us sat in a circle as Jimin began saying, "My dad as you know is a biochemist. As one of the best in his field he used to spend most of his time in his lab creating things. But before he was a full fledged biochemist, he used to work for Yuhaehan as a drug scientist - he tested samples to see their effects and enhanced or diminished them sometimes. But after sometime he got tired and practiced himself. After a few years he invented a special kind of drug or a kind of bioweapon you can say, accidentally. The words got out and Yuhaehan became desperate to get their hands on it. My dad hid it somewhere that he didn't tell me yet. But he made an account that is linked to his personal blog, in case he got into some trouble, and put a code in it that only he could crack. On that note I should tell you that he was great in coding too, and that's why I got it in my gene. That account contains the information where his creation is hidden but that thing is also secured with the same code."

I could only stare in disbelief and contemplated inside about the things we were dealing with. I was still in my thoughts when Jinnie asked, "But your dad could have destroyed it!"

Jimin smiled weakly, "That's the main problem. He invented it accidentally and doesn't know how to destroy it. That's why he put such security so that it doesn't get lost or get in wrong hands."

It was my turn to question him, "Why is Mr. Moon after you?"

"I didn't tell you yet, actually none of Yuhaehan knew how I looked in real life, thanks to my dad's overprotective self. That day, when Mr. Moon called us to his office, actually the last problem that only I was able to solve was the same pattern of code that dad used in his account and he called me in his office alone to ask me about where I learnt to decode that. As I didn't know about anything then, I said everything that my dad taught me to do it. I guess I did a blunder by saying him that. Apparently he is working for the Yuhaehans."

I asked again, "But why did your dad decided to go back? And w-why did you transfer here when you knew that I study here?"

Jimin gave a faint smile, "You remember that you were quite surprised to hear that my dad was a biochemist and we moved so much? That was to run away from the constant chasing, earlier from the authorities and later from the Yuhaehans itself. Last year when I was studying in Tokyo, one day I was in college and my mom and dad got into an accident. My mom died in that accident. I thought that it was a normal accident. But after coming here my dad told me that it was not. The Yuhaehan attacked them. While on her death bed my mom made my dad promise to leave the bad things behind and go back to his homeland to start everything anew. And thus, to keep that promise he went back to Seoul, to our ancestral castle."

I could sense the deep sadness in his voice as memories of his mother flooded in. I kept my hands on his, trying to provide the least comfort that I could. He looked at our hands and then looked up at me, smiling as if to imply that he was fine but we all deep down knew that he wasn't. Trying to avert the sad atmosphere he said, "Oh! You asked me about my transfer here, right?" I nodded just very slightly as a reply and he continued, "This is one of the few countries that I haven't been to yet. And the principal of this university happens to be a really close friend of my dad. That's why this was the only safe option."

...

Jinnie said, "I think I should go now. Tomorrow is a busy day and an early sleep would help I guess."

Jimin, staring at his walking away figure, said, "I think I should tag along too." But as he was about to stand up something in me made my hand hold the side of his jacket. He looked down at me curiously to which I replied, "Would it be bad if you stayed here with me tonight?"

He gave me an adorable smile and then turning back at Jinnie, who was waiting for him near the door, said, "I think you have to go alone. I am staying here tonight."

A/n: How are you all? I hope you have been good and continue to be so! So we got some explanation in this one! Tell me what do you think and how you feel! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! Please like and give feedback! It would mean a lot! Thank you for reading! Love you all 💜💜💜

P.s.- let me know what do you think will happen in the next chapter 😋