#mostly because the project I did this past year forced me to learn more than any person should know about Establishment Whigs

[waugh-bao]

oh dang, I missed the tag at the end about Dovlatov vibes. Yeah, go with the Soviet one then. lol I’m glad to narrow down your choices by simply choosing both choices. 😁 But I’d be happy with either. Flip a coin.

Haha, you don't have to be so nice to me, I promise.

We'll split the difference and do the Mick/Charlie fic as requested (artist and journalist AU in London), and I can use the Soviet AU for a gen Keith + Charlie focused thing I've been considering. (Think two old Soviet poets/dissidents who used to be best friends being angsty in Brighton Beach because one tried to sacrifice himself for the other and now the one he sacrificed himself to save will no longer talk to him. Mikhail is over it).

Truly plumbing the depths of niche fandom content over here.

[kandismon]

Do you have any tips for those who wish to create a webcomic?

I do apologize if this has been asked before!

this is a pretty big question that would probably be easier to answer if you had any specific things you'd like to know about!

but i can give you a summary of general things i've learned over the years!

disclaimer: these are my personal experiences, if any of this sounds like something that doesn't fit your workflow or preferences, please disregard!

if you've never made a webcomic before, i would personally recommend starting small. do a short oneshot first to see how it feels instead of diving right into your multi-season 2000 pages big epic story, because i feel like the workload can get really overwhelming really fast if you go from 0 to 100 right away. some creators thrive on that but it was definitely not for me. i have a lot of failed and unfinished projects sitting around because i was too ambitious and didn't know what i was getting myself into. later on i started drawing short comics for various fandoms & ships i was invested in deeply, and those got progressively longer until i suddenly felt ready to seriously tackle one of my original stories again. which was when i finally started working on #MUTED!

don't worry about sticking to the strict 60+ panels weekly schedule that you see a lot on platforms like webtoon for example. unless you've signed a contract, you make the rules and decide how much and how often you post. i've seen a lot of creators burn themselves out over that when there really wasn't any need because no one was forcing or paying them to churn out so much all the time T -T) you can still find an audience and success with a slower pace (for example #MUTED was released with 2 episodes a month, 1 ep usually had around 20ish panels iirc)

finished is better than perfect. if you're a perfectionist this can be difficult to accept, but i promise most people won't look at your panels for longer than 1.5 seconds. some wonky lines here and there don't matter much, it's more important to get the feelings across imho.

vector layers (for inking) are your best friend \o/

imho having a pretty clear outline for your story can be really helpful and take away some stress, knowing where the story is going without having to constantly sit down inbetween chapters to come up with more plot is a blessing and i wish i had been better about doing that with #MUTED. i did have a rough outline but a lot of holes in between chapters and in the end some things i would have liked to explore more never got touched on because my planning was bad and i wasn't able to find the room in the story (like some emma back story, more about jasper's family dynamics, also a bit more of a deep dive into kai's relationship with his family) (also towards the end i felt pretty burned out and just wanted to move on haha) [i'm not saying to plan every scene right from the get go, there's always room to adjust and remove or add stuff while you're working on the project, but a few important anker points here and there are important, at least for me!]

shortcuts are also your best friend, use all of them. 3d models too!

when you start publishing, don't get discouraged by algorithms and statistics and numbers (i say as that's something i still struggle with daily LOL), agonising over these things is pointless because they're mostly out of your control, focus on things you can actively do to be proud of your work. also instead of comparing yourself to others, instead compare yourself to past you! look how far you've come compared to the you from last year :>

i hope any of this helps, sorry for rambling lol if there's ever any specific questions, my asks are always open and i'll do my best to try and help out!! i'm also still learning and don't consider myself to be a person who really has anything to teach to anyone, but i can share my progress and experiences and hype you up if needed, hehe

good luck with your comic!!

[blackjackkent]

Writing Interview Tag Game

I was tagged by @ra-scheln - thank you! :D

When did you start writing?

A looooooong time ago. Haha. As a kid there was a several year period where I thought I wanted to be an author as a career, and always liked writing even after I moved on to other plans. The stuff I wrote as a kid is mostly lost to time, although I do still have the Google doc of a “novel” I wrote for my senior English project in high school. I haven't had the courage to look at it for a long time because it is uh. Not Good. :P (No judgment on my past self - we become better through trying and learning. But it would probably be unrecognizable compared to my writing now.) 

Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?

Sort of? I like reading scifi and fantasy and the majority of my writing has also been in those genres. But I also like reading things like regency romance, historical fiction, very specific types of horror, etc. that I have no real interest in trying to replicate. 

Can you tell me about your writing space?

Sometimes I write on my phone flopped on the couch - that's how I'm writing my answers to these questions in fact! I'm a pretty fast phone typist but it's still a slower process, though, so when I really want to buckle down I usually go to my desktop computer which is in the office. Right now it's a big wooden corner desk but I'd like to replace it with a couple of smaller ones that are more easy to maneuver and put cool rgb lights on for the Gamer Aesthetic. XD

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Lately as I've been trying to write more consistently, I've been having a lot of luck with this web app called 4thewords.com. It's a bit of gamification but the main thing I like about it is you pick an amount of time and a word goal and it sets a timer for you and it has proved REALLY effective for forcing me to just get words down on paper. The first draft is the hardest for me by far and it's been often really useful for getting over that hump. So lately I'll set myself up for 500-1000 words or so per day of “battles” and that gets me the forward momentum that I'm trying to maintain. 

That said, I'm also trying to be better about not forcing myself to write when it's just not coming at all. I don't want to burn myself out. 

Are there any recurring themes in your writing?

I am sure the answer is yes but it's hard for me to distinctly identify them. (I'd be interested in hearing reader answers to this question.)

Off the top of my head, though - missing scenes, mutual pining, struggles with emotional control. I think one major thing is that, as someone who missed my prime dating years due to the Big Sad, a lot of my characters do have an underlying thread of finding love/fulfillment/connection despite obstacles, later in life, or when they feel they don't deserve it or don't know how to do it. 

What is your reason for writing?

The same reason I was almost an actor, the same reason I like making people laugh on my stream. Hell, even the same reason I like programming and making software that improves someone's day. 

I like making people feel things. I like seeing their reaction to something I've done and hearing that it evoked something in them. This is the most fundamental human connection in my opinion. 

Is there any kind of specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Honestly, any time someone takes time out of their day to leave any type of comment at all, it's guaranteed to make my whole week. But in keeping with my previous answer - my favorite comments are ones where I get to hear about how I affected the reader's emotions, or where they mention particular parts that really struck them. Those always make me really happy. c:

How do you want to be thought about by your readers? 

Interesting question. I think… as someone who is good with character voices and keeps tight hold of the fundamental core of the characters even when putting them in different situations. Someone who can manage both angst and humor well. Once again, I'd like people to look forward to what I write because they know it's gonna make them feel something that they enjoy. 

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Character voices and dialogue. I've been told I've been very good at catching the cadence of different characters, and some of my favorite things to write have been just bouncing those voices off each other and seeing what happens. I think this is really the pillar on which all the rest of my work is able to stand bc the characters feeling like themselves makes the rest have more impact. 

How do you feel about your own writing?

This really depends on when you catch me, haha. Some days I'm really proud of it, and some days I have a hard time seeing anything good in it. Currently in a bit of a trough of overthinking it, but I’m lucky to have a couple readers who are v supportive which helps. <3 Overall though I think I do a good job and have some interesting stories out there and in my to-do list. (I also tend to way over-compare myself to other people in the fandom; there are so many incredible writers around here that it's hard to put myself next to them.)

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

A mix of both, I suppose? Certainly in picking what I want to write about I am thinking primarily about what I would find fun to write and not about what has a “market” in the fandom per se. But I also am lucky enough to have found other people who do enjoy the same characters as I do and enjoy my take on them, and in that sense I am definitely often more excited about a particular idea because I know one or more of my friends would be excited to read it. :D So both things are definitely a factor. 

-----

Tagging: @writer86 @rhysintherain @bardic-inspo @thedarkstrategist (and anyone else who wants to do this honestly)

[blubberquark]

New Year's Resolutions

Hey everybody. It's a new year. Happy New Year!

Gamedev Blogging

Last year I have fallen behind on posting gamedev stuff. It's mostly because there is no good way to format code listings in the new editor. So this year, I am not even going to try eith gamedev tutorials on tumblr. I might post them elsewhere and just link them. I have already taken a look at Cohost, but It doesn't have the features I need. Wouldn't it be cook if you could post pico-8 carts on cohost? Or source code listings? Or LaTeX? I might as well write the HTML by hand and host it somewhere. But that won't be the focus of this blog in 2024.

Instead I'm going to do more tumblr posting about game design, just less on the code side. It will be more on the screenshot side. First thing will be about my 2023 Game Of The Year. It will probably surprise you. I did not expect it to be this good. You can also expect something about some of my old prototypes. Over the years I have started and abandoned game prototypes after either concluding that the idea won't work and can't be made to work, or after learning what I needed to learn. What did I learn? Wait and find out!

Computer Litaracy

I'll also attempt to write more about general computing and "computer literacy" topics. I have two particular "series" or "categories" in mind already. Almost Good: Technologies that sound great when you hear abut them, but that don't work as well as you might think when you try them out. Harmful Assumptions About Computing: Non-technical people often have surprising ideas about how computers work. As a technically inclined person, you don't even realise how far these unspoken assumptions about computers can reach.

Usability of computers and software seems to have gotten worse rather than better in many aspects, while computers have become entrenched in every workplace, our private lives, and in our interactions with corporations and government services. Computer literacy has also become worse in certain ways, and I think I know some reasons why.

There will also be some posts about forum moderation and community management. It's rather basic and common-sense stuff, but I want to spell it out.

Actual Game Development

I am going to release a puzzle game in 2024. You will be able to buy it for money. You can hold me to it. This is my biggest New Year's Resolution.

I will continue to work on two games of mine. One will be the game I just mentioned. The other is Wyst. I put the project on ice because I was running out of inspiration for a while, but I think I am sufficiently inspired now. I will pick it up again and add two more worlds to the game, and get it into a "complete" state. I'll also have to do a whole lot of playtesting. This may be the last time I touch Unity3d.

I will try out two new engines and write one or two proof-of-concept games in each of them, maybe something really simple like "Flappy Bird", and one game jam "warm-up" thing, with the scope of a Ludum Dare compo game. Maybe that means I'll write Tetris or Pong multiple times. I probably won't put the "Pong in Godot" on itch.io page next to a "Pong in Raylib" and "Pong in Bevy", but I'll just put the code on my GitHub. The goal is to have more options for a game jam, so I can decide to use Godot if it is a better fit for the jam topic.

In the past, I have always reached for PyGame by default, because Python is the language that has flask and Django and sqlalchemy and numpy and pyTorch, and because I mostly want to make games in 2D. I want to get out of my comfort zone. In addition to the general-purpose game engines, I will try to develop something in bitsy, AGS, twine, pico-8 or Ren'Py. I want to force myself to try a different genre this way. Maybe I'll make an archaeologist dating simulator.

All in all, this means I will so significant work on two existing projects, revisit some old failed prototypes to do a postmortem, I'll write at least six new prototypes, and two new jam games, plus some genre/narrative experiments. That's a lot already. So here's an anti-resolution: I won't even try to develop any of my new prototypes into full releases. I will only work on existing projects from 2023 or before if I develop anything into playable demo versions or full games. I won't get sidetracked by the next Ludum Dare game, I promise. After the jam is over, I'll put down the project, at least until 2025.

[elletromil]

Job Offers

Surprising even myself, here's a new fic after about a year without having written anything :D

This one has been in my drafts for a while, half-finished, and i can't say why exactly i decided to kick my butt into finishing it but I did it!

Set in the Come Back (Home) 'verse after Harry comes back to London but is still retired and has no plan on getting back into Kingsman.

This is based on a discussion I had with @honey-bee-britt

Enjoy my good peeps :D

Job Offers

“-and while I’ll never force a retired agent to come back except if we are in dire straits, you understand why I think it’s a waste that we haven’t retained the previous Galahad’s services in some capacity.”

Merlin nods because that’s what is expected of him. He doesn’t mind their newest Arthur much most of the time, but he knows better than to try and speak him out of his newest crusade.

He knows that no matter what they do, the only way Harry would ever be tempted back into Kingsman is if the ‘dire straits’ Arthur mentioned include Eggsy being in very deep trouble or far worse. And Merlin is doing his damnedest for that to never happen. To Eggsy or any other agents under his care.

“And considering your old friendship with him, I am sure you’ll be just the man to convince him.”

Merlin stares at Arthur for a beat, wondering if this is some kind of joke. Sure, Harry and him are friends, but it’s been at least twenty years since Harry has listened to Merlin. And that’s if Merlin is actually trying to make him see reason.

Arthur is in for one hell of a disappointment.

Still he nods again without saying anything else. At the very least, it will entertain him for some time.

***

Since Harry’s return, they’ve made a habit of meeting each other for breakfast whenever Eggsy is away on a mission and Merlin isn’t needed at HQ.

It’s been two weeks since Merlin’s talk with Arthur and he hasn’t mentioned any of it to Harry yet. Mostly because retired spy or not, Harry is smart enough to know that Arthur would probably be interested in having him back in some ways. But also because there’s not really been an occasion for it.

“So, R&D is looking for someone,” he says apropos of nothing. He doesn’t phrase it as an offer because he knows what Harry’s answer would be. But he can admit to being curious to what his reaction will be.

Harry doesn’t mind talking shop with him, even if Merlin has had to learn how to be more careful about what he tells him.

“If she wasn’t so young and if Eggsy wouldn’t kill me for it, I’d recommend Daisy for the position.” There’s only good humour in Harry’s eye as he looks up from his poached eggs. “I’ve been helping her with her science project and let me tell you, I’ve been very impressed. Did you know that-”

The rest of breakfast is spent discussing Daisy and the upcoming science fair at her school.

*

Harry doesn’t say anything when Merlin pushes past him as soon as he answer the door, not waiting for an invitation to get in. After the day he’s had, he seriously has no patience for social niceties.

If Harry minds, he doesn’t say anything, but he does frown when he notices the bottle of scotch Merlin has brought with him.

“We’re eating dinner before we open that.”

Merlin would protest, but that’s about when the smell coming from the kitchen hits him and he decides that if Harry wants to feed him, well, he’d be a fool not to accept.

He lets himself be pushed into the dining room and onto a chair, his first look on Harry’s half-eaten plate enough to convince him he made the right choice by not protesting. It look as amazing as it smells.

Tastes fantastic too, he discovers as he waste no time digging into the warm food once Harry sets a serving in front of him. It’s no wonder Eggsy has been putting on some much needed weight since Harry’s return.

If he had the same to look forward to for lunch, it would be enough to remind Merlin to eat too.

He looks away from his plate to compliment Harry on the food, when he notices the obvious worry of his expression.

That’s something he’s still getting used to since Harry has been back in London, the way he is so much more open than he ever was, at least in the privacy of his own home.

“We just got a new batch of recruits to train,” he says instead of the compliment and watches the worry morphs into an amused sort of understanding.

“My sympathies.” Harry tries for something solemn, but Merlin can see his bloody dimples.

“Fuck off Hart. If you don’t stop taking the piss at my suffering, I won’t share the scotch.”

“I guess I’ll just keep all the baklava I made for dessert to myself then,” Harry threatens right back with a smirk.

“You’re such a bastard,” he grumbles half-heartedly. It’s been a while since he’s treated himself to baklava and if Harry’s taste just half as good as their meal… He really doesn’t want to miss out on them.

Harry graciously inclines his head, as if the insult had been the compliment Merlin had first intended to pay him. Exasperated, Merlin sighs before he focuses back on his plate, but he can’t quite help the smile tugging at his lips.

He might never admit it out loud, but he’s glad Harry is back.

He’s missed his friend.

*

To say the last thing he ever expected to see at their new HQ was Roxy coming into his office, armed with an enormous basket of various pastries and baked goods would be a lie, but only because Merlin would never have thought it in the realm of possibilities.

“Come on Merlin,” she urges him past his shock, “you get first pick. Or well, second really. I did help myself on the way over.”

He smiles back at her, glad to see the return of the mischievous glint in her eyes. For a long time after miraculously surviving the explosion of the old manor, she had seemed rather apathetic of the world around her even after her physical recovery.

While he knows that the experience will forever leave its mark on her, it hasn’t changed her completely. With how Roxy and Eggsy had not been in the mood to fool around together for various reasons after Poppygeddon, the morale at HQ had been bleaker than in the aftermath of V-Day.

He’s relieved that the atmosphere has been slowly improving, partly thanks to the young Knights’ return to their regular antics.

“Thank you,” he says after selecting a croissant for himself. He’s not particularly hungry yet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it. “I didn’t know you baked.” He gestures at the basket as if he needs explaining. It’s obvious that even if it all looks highly appetizing, everything contained in the basket comes from someone’s own oven.

To his surprise, Roxy snorts rather gracelessly at that.

“Oh, I don’t bake. I barely know how to boil an egg without burning the water.” She grins, apparently unbothered by her ineptitude in the kitchen. “No, I’m just doing the delivery. Should have been Eggsy, but something came up with Daisy, so Harry enlisted my help instead.”

He nods as if it makes perfect sense.

Which in a way, it kind of does, if one knows Harry won’t even step a food inside the new tailor shop whenever he’s waiting for Eggsy.

Merlin just doesn’t understand what prompted Harry to spend hours at the oven.

“And really,” Roxy continues, probably picking up on his slight confusion like the trained spy that she is, “we should be thanking you. I don’t know what you told him, but apparently, you should expect a basket once a week as a ‘show of appreciation to all the handlers from someone who knows just how hard you work at keeping everyone as safe as they can’. A sentiment I wholly agree with.”

She’s grown more serious now, but she’s still smiling. Merlin isn’t quite sure what to do with the gratitude he sees in her eyes, the gratefulness of Harry’s gesture.

All he had done was complain to Harry that two of his handlers had burned out already this month. And he had only mentioned it after Arthur had commented to him how Harry’s expertise could make quite the difference if he was to come back in such a position. That way, he could honestly say he had made an attempt to bring Harry back into Kingsman.

And if he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish Kingsman had more handlers in its employ, he’s selfishly happy that Harry is completely uninterested in returning to any kind of active duty. His friend has given enough pieces of himself in Kingsman’s service over the past decades. He deserves to live the rest of his life as he pleases.

Especially if what pleases him is apparently fattening the whole of Kingsman with amazing food.

*

Admittedly, giving the extremely late hour, Merlin should have been sleeping in his bed rather than lying on Harry’s living room floor.

But after four days where power-napping between crisis was his only source of rest, he’s far too keyed up to attempt sleeping. And even if Eggsy’s current mission is in no way related to any of the metaphorical fires he’s had to put out all week, that doesn’t mean Harry is sleeping soundly while he’s away.

Some inane text received while he was on his back from HQ was all it took for Merlin to choose to head to the house he’s sharing with Eggsy rather than his own home.

He scowls at the cup of chamomile tea Harry sets within his reach on the low table, remembering perfectly well that he asked for the good scotch when Harry asked him if he wanted anything.

“Merlin, I can feel your headache from where I’m sitting.”

He turns his glare towards his friend, but it’s not like he’s wrong. His head has been positively pounding for the past few hours. Adding a hangover to that is probably unwise.

He shudders at the thought that Harry Hart has somehow become wiser than him. And bites back a curse when it only worsen the pain in his head.

“Hmm. It’s far.”

“I’m not going to tell you to go to bed, but you should at least take the couch.”

Merlin spares a look to the couch, before wearily staring at the foot or so of empty space that separates him from it.

He doesn’t need to look at him to know Harry is rolling his eyes at him.

He is surprise however when the rustle of fabrics isn’t followed by a pillow hitting him in the chest like he expected but rather by Harry getting up again from the armchair so he can carefully drag Merlin to the couch. Apparently, retirement has made his friend wiser and softer.

Merlin doesn’t thank him, but he does grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze before Harry moves back to his own seat.

The silence between them is comfortable until Merlin breaks it with the most trivial of their latest crisis.

“Arthur wants to hire a new tailor.” What Arthur really wants is to hire Harry as a new tailor. He might not be an expert, but it has been his cover for a few decades. Like all of the other Knights, he had been required to know enough to get by. He had also hated it with the burning passion of a thousand suns. His words, not Merlin's

“Have you asked Dagonet’s nephew already? What was his name… Joseph?”

“Joshua,” he corrects Harry, “and no we haven’t. But that’s not a bad idea.” The man is a trained tailor unlike Harry. He doesn’t know for sure why Joshua has never been offered a position at the shop as he has never been in charge of anything relating to legitimate tailoring aspect of their organization before, but it can’t hurt to ask.

He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing and wondering if he’s imagining the lessening intensity of his headache. He’s half asleep when he registers a soft sound he can’t place and his curiosity gets the better of him.

He opens his eyes and looks over to Harry again, still sitting in his armchair, but his hands busy with whatever was making the sound.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“A blanket.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the answer because Harry knows that’s not what he was asking.

“I’ve picked up crochet,” Harry adds after a while. “Soothes me when I worry at night.”

It’s been months since Harry’s return now, but no matter what, Merlin doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how honest he’s become on such matters. At least not as long as Merlin himself will continue to work every day with trained spies.

He’s grateful for it however. The candour is kind of refreshing.

“Hmm. Maybe I should pick that up too.”

Harry snorts and this time, does throw a pillow at his chest. “What you really need is sleep. Not another reason to stay awake.”

A jaw-cracking yawn interrupts whatever protest he had intended to make and he decides to close his eyes rather than have to look at Harry’s smug face.

And if he does fall asleep shortly after that?

Well, he’s not too proud to admit Harry can be right.

Sometimes.

*

“You’re sure you don’t want to drive?” Merlin asks as Harry makes to climb into the passenger seat.

For once, his asking has very little to do with Arthur’s needling comments over bringing Harry back into Kingsman in some capacity.

While it is true that they do need new drivers -- hence why h is currently driving the cab himself -- mostly Merlin just loathes driving in London’s traffic. It’s very close to the very top of his list of things he doesn’t want to be doing during a mandatory day off and it’s only because having to deal with the crowd on the tube would be worse that he didn’t suggest public transport to Harry.

“You do know that I’m actually pretty shite at driving, right? I’ve been driven everywhere during most of my tenure as a spy except for car chases. And there hasn’t been a lot of them either.” It’s true. Before Eggsy becoming the new Galahad, being a Kingsman Knight had involved relatively few pursuits of that kind. “You never wondered why I never fight with Eggsy for the wheel?”

“I always assumed it was because the lad has you wrapped around his little finger.”

“Well, there’s that too,” Harry admits with a complete lack of self-consciousness. “But mostly, I don’t feel like adding to London’s traffic problems.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“I try.”

The click of Harry finally buckling his seat-belt makes Merlin involuntarily grit his teeth and tightens his hold on the wheel.

“Think Eggsy would mind playing chauffeur for us on his day off?” He asks half-seriously instead of starting the car.

Harry laughs, but he’s already unbuckling.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to, he was getting antsy when I left.”

*

When Merlin finally makes it to the pub, Harry takes one look at him before pushing his own pint towards him. And while Guinness isn’t usually his first choice, at the moment Merlin will take whatever he can get.

“You look terrible.”

“It’s been a terrible day… Week even.”

Harry makes a sympathetic sound and gives his hand a gentle pat, before getting up to, hopefully, get them more alcohol.

Merlin sighs as he nurses the rest of the Guinness, trying to relax.

Today might not have been ‘end-of-the-world’ terrible -- hence why he didn’t cancel his meeting with Harry -- but combine enough small annoyances together and one can still get a massive headache.

He musters a grateful smile for his friend when Harry returns with what is probably scotch for Merlin and another pint for himself.

“I took the liberty of ordering us some fish n’ chips too.”

He hums in approval in his glass. “This is why we are still friends.”

Harry rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but doesn’t take the bait.

“Want to talk about it?”

Merlin groans, the semblance of calm he achieved thanks to the scotch he’s sipping completely shattered.

“That bad? Or you can’t talk about it?” Even with Arthur being hell-bent on bringing Harry back to an active Kingsman status, the fact he’s retired means Merlin had been keeping more things from him than he’s ever had to before and they both know it.

Not because he doesn’t trust Harry, but simply because he wants it to be clear that he respects his decision to retire from the spy world.

He’ll still complain about problems that fall more under the office work category than the spy one, but that’s all he allows himself. That and vague updates about Eggsy’s missions when he thinks the situation warrants them.

“No, I can talk about it. It’s just trying to figure out where to start when it’s been everything.”

How about you start from the last thing that happened and work your way from there?”

It’s actually not a bad idea. Better than trying to figure out when and what made everything go to absolute and utter shit. (On a personal level, Merlin is aware that it all can be traced back to his decision to join Kingsman. But for the specific chaos he went through this past week… It probably has the same point of origin to be honest.)

“Paul from the kennel is retiring.”

The thing about it that made his blood pressure rocket through the sky was the pointed look Arthur gave him when he gave him the news.

And to be fair, dogs do have more of a fair chance of convincing Harry to come back, but Arthur forgets the man already has two at home. And regularly dog-sit Roxy’s poodle too.

He’s about to launch into the next annoyance -- Percival’s pyromaniac tendencies -- when he notices Harry’s sheepish expression.

“What did you do?”

Of course, Harry tries for innocence, but that hasn’t worked on Merlin in decades. One unimpressed arches of an eyebrow is all it takes for Harry to give up the pretence.

“Please don’t tell Eggsy before he’s back.”

“Can’t make that promise without knowing what you’ve done,” he replies to that without an ounce of pity.

Harry might be his oldest friend, but that doesn’t mean Merlin will always side with him. Especially not when it can affect Eggsy.

The lad has more than earned his loyalty, especially after the year they both spent keeping each other afloat from their grief when they mistakenly believed Harry was dead. And not after the year after that where Merlin had to watch Eggsy continuously making the hard choice to stay rather than run after Harry as he so obviously wanted to.

There’s a beat of hesitation before Harry caves. “I might have adopted a new dog.”

For a moment there, Merlin can only stare at Harry’s guilty fidgeting. And then, he can’t help it.

He starts laughing.

When even the appearance of their meals isn’t enough to stop his hilarity, Harry starts pouting.

“It’s not that funny.”

And it’s not, not really.

But it has been a while since Merlin has had any reason to laugh, no matter how ridiculous it is.

It’s not like Harry is in any real trouble anyway. The man has more than enough time to take care of another dog. And Merlin is certain Eggsy won’t stay mad for long after he’s subjected to a puppy-eyed look.

Now, whether the look will be from the actual puppy or from Harry, that’s a completely different story.

*

“Sit your arse back down on that couch Harry.”

He grabs Harry’s elbow before he can take another step in the direction of the front door.

“But-”

“No Harry.” His voice his firm, but the slight tug he gives Harry’s arm wouldn’t even move a child. “I know you’re worried, but you can’t go.”

“You could sneak me in,” Harry tries weakly.

“I could,” Merlin agrees easily, but only because he knows he’s won already when Harry drops on the cushion next to him. “And I would. If it was in any way serious. But Eggsy’s only being kept in the infirmary as a precaution. Gaius doesn’t he’s got a concussion, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath and Merlin drapes an arm around his shoulders in silent comfort.

“You’re not gonna tell me Gaius has been looking for a new nurse?”

Merlin knows that Harry has been perfectly aware that all the mentions of the various Kingsman’s openings have been Merlin’s rather unenthusiastic attempts to bring him back into the fold. Harry might be retired, but he’s still one of the best spy Merlin has ever known.

After all, there is a reason the man got to retire.

But the question stings even if he’s made an accurate guess as to what Arthur told Merlin before he left to let Harry know in person not to expect Eggsy tonight.

“I didn’t know you thought so badly of me that you’d believe I’d take advantage of your current state of mind.”

He feels Harry flinch against him at the words. He’s half-tempted to push him away out of wounded pride, but before he can resolve himself to it, Harry press one of Merlin’s hand between his.

“It’s not you I think badly of. I don’t think I’ve ever said it in so many words, but you’re a great friend Merlin. I am lucky to have you. We all are.” That’s Harry’s newfound honesty and openness in action again and for the first time, Merlin thinks he could learn to get used to it. “It’s Arthur I think rather poorly of.”

Merlin hums in understanding.

Of course, Harry would have guessed what, or rather who, was behind Merlin’s vague job offers.

“He’s not all that bad,” he still feels the need to say. Not out of any particular loyalty towards Arthur, but simply because it’s true. He’s not that bad. At the very least, Merlin truly believe the man won’t ever be swayed by a megalomaniac into mass murdering civilians. “And you’re a great friend too.”

It’s not anything he would usually have admitted to without withstanding some sort of prolonged torture first, but Harry’s openness must have been rubbing off on him these past few months.

And if he’s being honest, it was surprisingly easy to say.

It’s what prompts him to add more. “I’m glad you came back Harry. I missed you.”

Harry only acknowledge the words with a soft press of the hand he’s still holding between his.

A somewhat peaceful silence falls over them after that, as comfortable as it can be with the undercurrent of worry they feel for Eggsy.

It doesn’t last long before Harry breaks it however.

“I could always replace Arthur.”

“Please no. I’d actually kill if you were my boss.”

[scorchedhearth]

i've never engaged with mcu or marvel comics in depth but the excerpts hit so hard,,,, the sudden vulnerability that natasha feels now without a purpose. as a weapon she knew how to hold herself, but now in freedom she has to test her own boundaries to see where she ended and where the world starts.

is your wip a no powers au specifically bc you wanted to focus on clint and natasha without bringing in the avengers? i am curious abt how you see clint and natasha's alliance with the avengers, whether it stunts their arcs in your mind (to be continued to be used by larger forces as weapons or if it's a calling they enjoy and have resigned themselves to), and what the endgame for them is in your mind (would they leave the avengers? stay? try to become civilians? be free agents separate from any sides?)

it's not because of the avengers, although later on it played a part, it's because i wanted to take out the more out-there elements of comics (magic, etc) to focus on the purely human aspects, there's no magic or long life or unrealistic physics, just the reality of a life led by damaged people who made mistake and try to right them. but also becuase i wanted to focus on nat and i couldn't do that properly if it was a fic about a group rather than one individual (clint was attached later, early on in the project because i realized how important they are for each other's arcs but still, the first idea was nat only)

i dont think the avangers stunt their arc, i think it's a necessary part that they grow past with time. mind u it's been years since i've read marvel and i never focused on the group stories, more on nat and clint's individual stories and while i know the avengers are important to both of them (in a way, it's how they prove to the world that they can do good, nat explicitly defects and leaves the room and kgb for them, clint starts to call himself a hero when he joins their rank, it's a fundamental part of their growth as characters, important to them both and they value it, given how much work and effort they give to the group in various storylines), i think as individual they've been working for and within organizations a lot, if not solely, so i think it's interesting to pull them out of that type of environment and see how they act when left on their own, with no guidelines or authority to follow or push back against, left to their own judgment. i imagine their lives, but especially this au, as a series of steps, each one needed to get to the next, and i wouldn't be able to reach the conclusion i want to if they did not go through a period of working with another organization

for me, the end goal would be for them to realize themselves in an independent way. i focus a lot on this story about how they're used, always, no matter the group they swear alliance to, and the main struggle is finding a way to exist outside of influences while true to themselves (truth is another big topic, learning to be honest with themselves first and foremost but also each other, it's always a staple of spy stories). by the time the epilogue arrives, they're leading civilian lives but they haven't forgotten their first career path and regularly go out to work on op, never hired merc, not anymore, but to do what they judge, on their own, to be right, partly because of a moral impulsion but mostly because they miss the adrenaline too much, and that too is something i have them wrestle with, that despite all the pain and sorrow they got from this life, they still love it, and they have to accept that they both do and don't miss it

[lost-girl-2021]

🤗

What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

I actually really wanted someone to ask this question. I'll answer from two different POVs, a reader and a writer.

As a reader, something that turns me away from fics is punctuation/spacing. Something I learned in school was that every paragraph should be around 5-7 sentences. Obviously, with fiction writing, it's a little looser but try to steer clear from page-long paragraphs. They can be hard to keep up with, sometimes.

Usually, as long as it's nothing crazy, I look past spelling errors and stuff, but I personally use Grammarly (the free version) and just have it enabled on my laptop (it's also great for school papers if you're still in school, FYI). I honestly don't look over my writing more than once most of the time, but the big stuff is marked in red and I can usually catch it before posting.

Also, if you don't feel comfortable/don't want to swear in your work, just don't. I've seen some other people say similar things (and I don't see it nearly as often anymore) but when people use "#%@*(" instead of swearing it pulls me out of the fic. There's non-swears you can use as alternatives and they flow better in my opinion.

As a writer, I'd say don't force yourself to write things sequentially. A lot of the time when I get the initial idea for something, I write a scene and work my way around it. For Days Into Decades, I wrote my beginning, then wrote some nonsensical scene that'll end up as my ending, and did some big scenes scattered throughout as my middle. Now, I go back through my doc and reread what I've written to pick and choose what I want/don't want to use.

Also, don't write on social media when you're creating a post. What I mean, is use something like Google Docs, which saves automatically, in case your device crashes or lags and deletes everything. The amount of times I've flat-out rage quitted something because I've lost like 2k of thoughts is uncountable.

I really like Google Docs and work pretty much exclusively on there when working on my drafts. I'm bad at labeling my docs, but trying to work on it more given the sheer amount of 'untilted documents' I have to search through when I'm looking for a specific old project. It also just works well with what I'm using, because I have a Chromebook (mostly because it's the closest I could get to a Nokia-level of durability).

At the end of the day, what really helps is keeping with it. I cringe at the thought of this, but my OG fanfic was a PJO x Avengers Tower AU with my own OC named "Paxton, but everyone calls me Pax". It had clipart and I used Pic Collage and I had a linked Instagram filled with Batman memes. No part of it made sense and because I wrote on my (barely functioning) 2015 Samsung (in 2017) it was riddled with spelling errors and every other sentence was an Author's Note filled with random emoji's.

My writing compared to then, even compared to a year ago, has completely changed. I've probably written at least five pages a week since I was thirteen. Now, almost twenty, I feel really confident about my writing style and the things I publish. I also usually ask for comments so I can get feedback on what I've written (and because I really like talking).

If anyone has any specific questions or wants me to check out their work (doesn't have to even be fanfiction, or it can be for a fandom I've never even heard of) feel free to DM me. I'd be happy to check it out when I'm free.

[virentdivision]

self review

these are all tags from one post here a couple months ago

#but i think what i've been trying to do is STOP fixing my art and just learn to make more drawings and move on

I have leant into this belief ✅ and it's good, though nuanced... as I don't want to start a lot of drawings, I like to take my time even on flawed artwork, ideally. I'm more leisurely. I try to avoid negative feelings, and if I truly feel a lack of interest, I will just erase it and start over. I try to build healthy attachments and relationships with my artworks.

#because everything i ever draw i dont post. i spend days on fixing it. ... I still do this but I have less of an issue about it due to me placing incentives that allow legroom while still putting a bit of pressure. Such as, "I have to queue up something for captaindark once every week..." It's subjective and easygoing enough, but is a tangible structure for me to take solace in. I'm not all or nothing incentives anymore. ... and i lose interest because i got new ideas during it... cycle repea#thats why i have 1000 wips / unposted art This is only an issue SOMETIMES! Since most days I am actually weaponizing this positively for my OC projects. The only time in recent times this happened negatively was when I was drawing in front of people and distracted myself. I can't tell if that's net negative or net positive, but I did still do stuff that I considered productive during it, and ultimately, all art has meaning. I just wouldn't want to go overboard and abandon the projects that have MORE meaning to me (and others) personally. #and i hope that i develop the artstyles i want#which is what i've been thinking about a lot lately ❌ No and Yes ?? ✅ ❌: I'm starting to not care about drawing to obtain style. When I start drawing things that make me think this way, I try to avoid this way of thinking and push past it into whatever style comes naturally in that moment. It actually takes a lot of mental effort to disengage with such perfectionist habitual thought, but I'm in a creative high so it's easier than before. As in, it's still hard, but I have more creative energy to spend instead of having to give up too soon. ✅: I've realized I have a style. I just might not like it, and honestly, the reasons for why I don't like it are kind of nebulous and stupid and based in perfectionist thought, so I'm active on uprooting that. Hopefully I see fruition of my efforts soon! I would love to see some abundant visible change on it, have wanted to for months or maybe years regarding my captaindark blog artworks specifically. #there will be no progress if i dont post. ❌ No, and I've learned this thanks to my OC projects giving me a tangible sense of progress even if I'm actively avoiding showing what I'm doing. And that mindset has crossed over to everything else I do. When I start working on those other things, I maintain my creative high outlook and realize "oh, so it's this way, here too" right? I kind of don't know yet since I haven't started a bunch of work in other stuff (which is a good thing right now) but that's what makes sense, and I'll probably purposely make the realization happen.

#i just don't want posting to feel forced...)

I have leant into this belief ✅ and it's good, though nuanced... Same with my art, I'm trying to "build healthy attachments and relationships" with my blogs. I don't like twt, so I'll just post there in a way that makes me forget about it. Even if there's value to posting there, I just don't feel like it, so I compromise and do what I want. That way, when I get nice reactions, it's a pleasant surprise that I don't have to dwell on about.

even if i don't have anyone looking#(that's mostly a faultdue to me being shy and not posting to where people will see it... I actually still think about my lack of audience sometimes, but it's such a mixed train of thought. Because... I like being reserved and "safe" ... but I want to build something for myself, too. Then I imagine, what if I release a game and pretty much no one bothers to play it? But I don't really believe that thought, since an artwork as well rounded and tangible as a game existing in my gallery is a building block to something that will attract attention eventually. Even if it's only the few people you care about and directly told them to play. Even if people don't understand the message or didn't like it that much. I think I would still overall feel pretty good about it, since I'm practical about gaining experience. We'll see.

[inclusion-toolkit]

Module 1: Differentiation and UDL

Reflection:

To me, “barriers to inclusion” refer to something more than external forces that make it difficult for inclusive education to truly flourish in schools. One of the biggest barriers I see is inclusive language since there is debate within the disability community on whether to use person-first language or identity-first language when describing a person who has a disability. Some people instead prefer identity-first language as a way of emphasizing what they consider an important part of their identity.

Source: Unpacking the debate over person-first vs. identity-first language in the autism community

Language evolves. When talking to or about individuals with disability, I was taught to use person-first language. However, there are some autistic self-advocates (as they would like to be referred) who have recently been challenging that autism cannot be separated from the individual as it is an identity-defining feature, and person-first language suggest undesirable traits and stigmatizing views (Vivanti, 2019). For instance, it is not common to say “person who is beautiful." If a community cannot even agree on how to be called, how can it truly be united?

Reference

Vivanti, G. (2019). Ask the editor: What is the most appropriate way to talk about individuals with a diagnosis of Autism? Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 50(2), 691-693. http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s10803-019-04280-x

Focus Questions:

Have you supported a family in applying for Jordan’s Principle?

I have supported many families who have accessed funding through Jordan’s Principle. Currently, I have a Grade 5 student who is doing tutoring through Jordan’s Principle. I also helped the family find a good fit for a tutor because my student, unfortunately, did not like the previous ones he had. I like that the service provider is able to bill Jordan’s Principle directly, and that after I connected my student’s family to the tutor, I did not have to do anything else!

Can you think of opportunities for current or past students that this program could support?

In our school, Jordan’s Principle is mostly used for formal assessments (e.g. Psych-Ed testing, medical exams, etc.), professional services (e.g. counselling, SLP services, etc.), and equipment (iPad, TouchChat, etc.), but I think it should be used for so much more. Some ideas include:

Food Security – access to food allowances so that children have healthy food

Caregiver Support – respite services to offer a break for caregivers.

Cultural Well-Being – access to supplies for regalia-making, beading, etc.

How does the design of your classroom affect student learning?

The physical structure of a classroom greatly affects student learning. For instance, in a traditional classroom setup, students may be more inclined to work independently and shy away from participating in group work. Having desks in groups or using tables, on the other hand, may encourage students to collaborate. Furthermore, having different areas in the classroom with flexible seating gives students choice on what works best for them.

How does your teaching pedagogy change, based on the makeup of students in your classroom?

My pedagogical style will always depend on the makeup of the students. For example, if I am teaching in a class with big ability differences, I will definitely provide more choice and differentiation, and perhaps focus more on passion projects in order to create more engagement. Similarly, if there are a lot of English Language Learners in my class, I will make sure to always include linguistic explanations  and accommodations in all subjects. On the other hand, if I am teaching in a class that is more or less culturally homogeneous (like in Japan, where I taught for several years), I will take the time to familiarize myself with the culture and make sure to include topics that would be relevant to the students.

What are the similarities in differentiation in an elementary school vs a high school?

Just like in elementary classroom, high school teachers can differentiate in four ways: content, process, product, and learning environment. Regarding content, there are different electives students can take, and even within a subject (i.e. Math), there are different levels. Likewise, teachers have the freedom to deliver material, assess students, and design their classrooms in a variety of ways.

What differentiation considerations need to be made specific to teaching in a high school?

In Surrey, there is a B.A.S.E.S. (Building Academic, Social and Employment Skills) program in some high schools. This modified program focuses on social skills, employment skills, and functional academic skills that are relevant to the work place and community. Because of the modified curriculum, students do not receive a Dogwood Certificate. I think that having such a program is important because the focus is on functional academics – not everyone needs to know non-Euclidean geometries or Coulomb’s law. Even now as a grown-up, I know many of those with whom I attended high school that did not choose to go to university, and many are very successful in their chosen fields. I think special consideration need to be given to what the student wants to do after high school.

Two or three essential ideas you took away from the module

Three tiers of intervention (Response to Intervention – RTI) + Shelley Moore’s RTI template

The story behind Jordan’s Principle

One or more valuable resources:

I did not know such a document from my district existed until a colleague, Tamara Frew, posted it! I will be using this more often.

One or more useful strategies

Including more life skills in student’s programming, e.g. cooking , gardening,

[perpetual-fool]

Feelings

(12/06/22, 3.1k) I was in the hospital again, with my bad heart. I spent the time just thinking, lamenting my past mistakes.

What I don't understand, is when I imagine what I might say if we met again, the only one I ever think of is her. I've gotten attached to a few people over the years, gotten to know some of them pretty well. I wish things had gone differently, but I don't miss any of them, really. The only one I miss is you. still. It's been so long. and we really didn't know each other that well. I know once I told you that, and you just asked "what do you want to know?". And I deeply regret that couldn't just ask. I was broken, I've been broken. I'm only just now starting to stitch myself back together. You've only known someone who was afraid to speak at all, and later someone who flipped between heartless and thoughtless. I've never really been myself before.

I know that doesn't matter. I'm sure you despise me by now. I doubt you'd want to hear another word from me, even if I have changed. I'm sorry you only knew my as I was. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better friend. Not that that would matter either. Empathy isn't enough; it's meaningless without understanding. And I am incompatible. If I'm not being vain, I think the way you put it was "a light that no one can imitate". So I don't try to connect anymore. That also means I don't need to keep things buried, mostly. Maybe you'd actually like me if you'd met me like this. But then, I'm only like this because I know I'm alone. There's no scenario I can imagine where we could have been, I dunno, anything? I don't have the context to understand my feelings. It doesn't make any sense. 

I'm starting to cut my own path into music now. Did you know I never actually learned to read it? I learned them as finger placements instead of tones. I'm going to need to come up with my own notation. I know I'll have to just memorize letter notation eventually, but it doesn't make any sense to me; seven letters for twelve tones, and starting on C? If it was used relatively, like how people refer to the tonic, third, fifth and whatever, that would make sense. It's like it started out relative and was forced into the role of being absolute. And I think eight years of orchestra trained my ear too well. I know once you expressed.. something, about people not being able to hear that they're not in tune, but how can you stand playing guitar? The intonation is all fucked up. I know it's not just me because there's a company in Sweden that makes adjusted fretboards, and they sound heavenly. But when I sat down an really listened to my guitar, it sounded all wrong. Nothing harmonized quite right, if I moved diads from one location to another they were off. It drove me nuts, I don't know why you don't hear it. Or do you just ignore it? So I'm starting with bass; fretless so I can actually play in tune, and acoustic so I don't have to worry about an amp. It is pretty quiet, maybe half as loud as a guitar. That shouldn't be a problem until I can project with my voice. I'm also working on that, current range is about D2-D4. I thought bass would be good for me to harmonize with, as it seems like harmonies more than an octave apart sound off. Like, guitar and viola sounds a lot better to me than guitar and violin. But also notes that low blend together and sound muddy, as I'm sure you know. So if can get the hang of subharmonics I may want to swap out for a 5 string for that B0. I know I'm getting ahead of myself with that though.

And if I recall correctly, I know I said and did a lot of dumb shit the last time we talked. Like, the bad drawing and such. I know it was bad, that wasn't the point. In part I didn't know what else to do, but if you'd told me "wow, that's so bad it looks like a child drew it with their feet" that would've been.. something? Again, I don't understand feelings. And I may be naive but I'm not stupid. When I told you that I could "make noises" from, X to Y, whatever it was, I know that barely audible squeaks and rumbles aren't useful for singing. Although, I think it was C2-E4, so I wasn't that far off. I thought it was patronizing, but maybe you knew something I didn't, Mrs. vocal coach. But I get the impression you were trying to fit me in some box when you called that my range; normalize what I'm saying into something you already understand.

On the topic of patronizing, I really was trying to be civil. I'm not sure if you took it as damning with faint praise or if I just failed to hide my hatred. This is going to be less civil. Maybe you would have preferred that? It doesn't matter I guess, you're not going to read this.

I can't play shell games with my beliefs. Mundane example: when my uncle tried to push me into guitar I needed some picks, and I chose a pack at random because I had no idea what I was doing. They happened to be heavies. And he told me never to use heavies unless I'm playing bass. But later he told me about this guy who played with a quarter because he liked the tone, and I think he fed me some meaningless platitude about how music can be whatever you want. "Do whatever you want, but don't do that" is not a belief I can maintain; I cannot maintain contradictions. My uncle is either a liar or a hypocrite.

I'm sure your denomination doesn't ride the guilt as heavy as mine did. They joke about it, praying for forgiveness three, four, five times during the service. "How much sinning could be happening when we're sitting in the pews?" But the core is the same. We are innately evil, and nothing we can do can ever make up for that. That's the belief that broke me into what I was. Believing every feeling was wrong and every thought not good enough. I'm sure you'd have at least a dozen excuses as to why you should feel good about yourself again after you take the magic bath. I'm wouldn't be surprised if you even genuinely meant them, but they don't work on me. It would only make me think that you are either a hypocrite or a heretic. Aside, I think you're a heretic regardless. As I heard one rando online put it, "If you aren't Catholic or Eastern Orthodox, then you aren't a fucking Christian". Reason being, you have the impudence to reinterpret that book. Catholics at least have their clergy to claim as an authority, but the only authority Protestants have is the book itself. So to interpret the book as anything but strictly literal, then you are judging it by something else. And you have no right, no authority to do that. I've heard the excuse, unless flames start appearing over people's heads and they all spontaneously agree on the same interpretation, you can fuck off with that. So if you dare decide that, say, "women should remain silent in church" was just Paul being a misogynist, then I think all you really believe in is yourself. Not that that's a bad thing. But I think you could be shining all the more brightly.

It was the mission trip that really hammered home that this was not about doing good, it was about making more Christians. And I don't mean the obvious stuff like: sure it's great that we're donating pencils to the needy children, but why aren't we solving whatever problem that's preventing them from getting pencils in the first place? I mean like how they warned us that they actually used wine for communion, because the people there wouldn't believe it had power if it was just grape juice; outright trickery. Or, when we visited a church in the town, it had bare cinder block walls, sheet metal roof, and a dirt floor. There was no door, no windows, they at least had simple wood benches. But the pastor there was telling the people, that anyone could give to the church. If you have no money, weave straw mats, sell them, and then give that money to the church. Heaven forbid we at least make sure these people have enough fucking food to eat before bleeding them dry. There's a couple more things I could get into, a shopkeeper by the waterfall told me there was rivalry between the Catholics and the CoCs, or why the fuck did they fly high school students to Africa to move bags and scoop cabbage. But I think that's enough.

I'm sure your church did substantially more good than mine did. But again, the core is the same. Any good the church does is just to sweeten the poison. It makes me sick to my stomach to step into a church these days, and the chords they use in gospel music grate on me like nails on a chalkboard.

I don't think I'll ever be well enough for this, but I'd like to go back and do things right. Do some volunteer work that actually makes a difference. Maybe learn sign. But there's no way I could withstand the social pressure. And I don't even have the will to take care of myself. That's why I'm getting back into music. I'm hoping, if I can find something that actually brings me joy, something I can understand on my terms, maybe things could get better somehow.

Ya' know, I never really liked playing viola. Not the instrument's fault. In fourth grade music class they brought in some kids from the orchestra to show off. I liked how the cello and the viola sounded, but I thought the cello would be a pain to lug around. Ironically my next door neighbor who was smaller than me picked cello. We walked home together, I could've handled it better than him. Fuck, I'd forgotten he played at all. I was right about the hassle, but then fifth grade we actually started playing some basic shit, and it sucked. It was mildly stimulating I suppose, but filling out the middle of the harmony is boring. I might've enjoyed it just a little more if they'd ever told us that's what we were doing. But despite that, there weren't many violas in the class, so I felt obligated to stay. The next year there were only two of us. I guess I just acquiesced to the role after that. Then I just coasted. I think past that first year, or at least past elementary, I never practiced at all. The time spent in class was more than sufficient for me to keep up. I guess there was just never anything for me to engage with. The only time I recall being excited for the music was when we allegedly had the chance to play the Halo theme. The viola part still wasn't great of course, but was so.. fun? to hear the piece starting to come together. And then she stopped us and said that we, or was it 'they'?, didn't understand the piece. To this day I do not know what that means, or why it couldn't have just been explained, or why that would even be necessary. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing; I didn't learn music, I only learned to operate a viola. About which I am still mildly upset. But if everyone else was already doing their best while I was running on autopilot, then maybe she had a point. Aside from that, the only thing that ever motivated me was you. I could've sat next to you one more year if Mrs. Smith hadn't doubted me. I finally had a reason to care and there was nothing I could do.

I did try just playing on my own but it really didn't appeal to me. Maybe that just wasn't complex enough? I think at this point my old viola is now a loaner instrument at an elementary school for use by larger kids. I'm happy with that ending for it. But I also feel like it wasn't really mine. Same with my guitars, which I also gave away. I feel they were all foisted upon me. I wasn't really engaged, people just kept pushing me. And, I wasn't really myself. I still like how the viola sounds. And a bow can much more expressive than anything you can do with a pick. Maybe if I ever start writing instrumental melody I'll pick up an electric five-string. The seven-string Viper looks cool but I think a violin might be too small for my hands. And maybe I'd want acoustic too, I dunno.

I'm not sure how I should feel about this, but I mostly don't remember you, what we did. In my self-loathing I've blocked most of it out. A few things stuck. I remember your favorite candy was those chocolate-caramel things. I remember you don't drink coffee, though I don't know if that was because you don't like it or because it's bad for your voice; you had tea instead. I remember the nickname you said only your mom called you. I remember Zoe Jane, The Way, and The Kids Aren't Alright have special meanings for you. I remember you wore that key, and when people would ask if that's the key to your heart you'd say it was the key to your dungeon. I remember you had a cross necklace that would flip upside-down, and you'd get flustered when people said they liked your inverted cross. At least, so you said. I remember we drew all over our music. I remember labeling that one section that was just a long rest "the ninjas", and it still amuses me to remember your reaction when you realized there was nothing there to play after saying "I'm gonna play the shit out of that part". I think that's what you said, I'm not sure anymore. I remember I was too afraid to hold your hand even though you told me not to be. I remember I did my best to give you "the world" for that Christmas thing. I remember we used to talk online a lot, and I remember blowing all my minutes for that prepaid phone just talking to you. I mostly don't remember what we talked about. Maybe it'd be nice to reminisce or maybe it'd just dig up old pain, I dunno.

I remember being too hurt to look at you after I thought we couldn't be whatever we were anymore. I remember I kept trying to sit next to you that trip, but you weren't having it. I remember the only reason I wanted to go in the first place was to be with you. I remember I spent most of the trip listening to this one song on repeat that went "can we be us again". I remember the last stop on the trip was this theme park, and they had a glass blower. There was this beautiful glass rose that I wanted to buy for you. But I couldn't afford it, so I bought a smaller one instead. I remember the last time we spoke you said you still have it, and that it was sweet, and that you care for me. And I remember, since you said it in those words, I didn't believe you. And I remember I said something stupid after that. I remember feeling devastated when I found out you'd probably lied to me about keeping your old name. I think at the time I thought you might've been messing with me as a joke, though now I think it's more likely it was so I couldn't find you. Maybe you were right to hide from me. And despite finding you anyway, I still feel like I should've believed you, trusted you. I remember I sent you one last message that was probably completely incoherent. I don't remember what I said. I probably don't want to.

Not that it means anything anymore, but if you were trying to be delicate with me, polite, that was entirely the wrong approach. I really can't read people. If you'd just directly told me to fuck off, I would have. I know this was never going to happen, but what I really needed was someone to tell me, directly and in concrete terms: what it was I did that was wrong, an explanation of why it was wrong, and what doing it 'right' would entail. At best all I ever got was an assessment of my intentions; some variant of "you're being ___". And that is completely meaningless to me, because that was not my intent. The stupid, simple answer to "how dare you say that" is that no one had told me not to yet. And, if all people tell me is to not say that, all I learn is that I shouldn't say anything. So there's certain things I just keep buried now. Maybe you'd think that's a good thing.

I don't know why I'm like this. I can black out the memories, but not the feelings, I guess. Shouldn't it have been long enough regardless? Hasn't enough changed? Haven't I failed completely enough? Still, I miss you. I hope you're happy. I hope you have a nice comfortable home without any screaming or broken glass or a man who overestimates their ability to diy. I hope my memory is not a bother to you. I hope you still have friends to play music with.

And I presume you don't have the rose anymore.

[au-wannabe-the-very-best]

The Great Melli may not typically gift his presence to members of the Pearl Clan very often, but there were obvious exceptions to that rule. The first exception would be Warden Ingo, mostly due to the fact that both of their Nobles live in the Highlands and therefore it is truly impossible to avoid one another. The second exception would be Warden Ingo’s son, Kubo.

As for Kubo, well... Melli, unlike with others, actually likes Kubo. Sure, the boy is strange, head in the clouds more often than not and rather blunt with his words, but he also seems to be one of the few people who can truly appreciate The Great Melli’s style and uniqueness. Furthermore, the boy actually listens when Melli speaks. He asks questions when he needs clarification and uses the knowledge he learns from Melli. As evident by the adorable little handkerchief Kubo embroidered and gifted to him. The Voltorbs weren’t perfectly circular and the Electrode’s eyes were a bit too big, but for a nine year old child it was some fine work. 

So, yes, Melli likes Kubo. Enough so that he’s actually willing to watch him whenever Warden Ingo requests it. Which, granted, isn’t very often so it’s not much of a tall task. Warden Ingo hates being separated from Kubo for whatever reason. But it happens every once and a while.

“Warden Melli,” Kubo shouts, still not very good at controlling his volume. He’s quite a bit like his father, in that aspect. Melli doesn���t mind as much, mostly because the boy doesn’t seem yet capable of projecting his voice quite like Warden Ingo. Key word; yet. “How did you get chosen as Electrode’s warden? Is it the same way the Pearl Clan chooses wardens? The same way Ingo was chosen?”

Another quirk of Kubo’s is refusing to call Warden Ingo his father. Melli’s always been curious of this, but being as intelligent as he is, he could gather that it may be a bit of a sensitive topic, so he’s never inquired about it.

“Well, I wouldn’t know since I have no idea how Warden Ingo was chosen,” Melli admits, sniffing. “However, how I was chosen was quite the spectacular tale, if I do say so myself!”

Melli is about thirty minutes into his dramatic and Factually Accurate retelling of his journey towards becoming Lord Electrode’s beloved warden when he is very rudely interrupted.

The one who is doing the interrupting is Adaman, though, so he can’t really get huffy about it.

“Melli!”

Huh. He sounds angry. Melli can’t fathom what would get him into such a mood so early in the morning.

“Melli, why is it that I got a report as soon as I woke up about Galaxy Team members getting lost and attacked in the tunnels?!”

Oh. That.

“Oh, Adaman, it’s horrible! The poor Pokémon of the tunnels are having their home invaded by these dreadful lanterns!”

Melli proceeds to detail just how horrific the lanterns are to the Pokémon residing in the cave system, simply trying to live their lives peacefully. Naturally, his persuasive skills are top-notch, but Adaman never seemed to see the other side of things unfortunately. All that stress of being the Leader of the Diamond Clan was evidently getting to him.

“Melli, youuu...” Adaman’s fingers curl into claws, body tensing. He looks just about ready to wrap his hands around Melli’s neck and shake him, leaning in threateningly but clearly restraining himself. If he weren’t, he would have taken another step forward, Melli is sure.

Problem is, Melli is the only one around who knows that. 

Kubo does not.

“STOP!”

The shout is, surprisingly, loud enough to actually rival Warden Ingo’s, echoing through the Hollow. Melli turns to reassure the boy, but before he is given the chance, a tiny body whizzes past him and slams right into Adaman’s stomach, toppling him over.

“It’s not Melli’s fault! It’s mine! It’s mine!”

Adaman looks just as startled as Melli feels, looking down at the boy whose embrace is forcing his arms down to his sides.

“It was my fault, I’m sorry! If you’re gonna hit anybody, hit me! It’s my fault! I’m sorry!”

What the fuck?

“I– I thought the Pokémon didn’t like the light so I begged Melli to take it down! It was my idea!”

“Kubo,” Melli hisses, eyes going wide. Was the literal child lying in an attempt to defend him?! “Kubo, what are you doing?”

“I knew Warden Ingo wouldn’t do it so I asked Melli to! I... I didn’t give him a choice! So if you’re going to hurt anyone, hurt me!”

“KUBO!”

Kubo flinches, turning his head to look at Melli in shock. Melli has never once raised his voice, not towards him. Admittedly, the man feels a bit guilty for doing so, but the nauseous feeling in his gut was begging him to do something about the situation. Something was clearly wrong, and Melli needed to get to the bottom of it. 

“Kubo,” he says, gentler this time. He kneels down, pulling the child’s arms away from Adaman. “He wasn’t going to hurt me. I swear. Adaman wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Kubo glances at Adaman with a frown. “He looked like he was.”

Melli pulls the boy in for a hug, to which Kubo falls into quickly and easily. “Would I, The Great Melli, ever lie to you?”

The expression Kubo looks up at him with could only be described as doubtful, which was just, well. Rude. But Melli was an understanding and gracious man, and he knew Kubo was not thinking very clearly in the moment. So, of course, he decided to let that go for the time being. 

“Listen,” Melli starts, putting on the Responsible Adult voice that he admittedly hates but knows is necessary. “Adaman and I have known each other since we were children. He’s my older brother in every way except for blood. True, we will get annoyed with one another and disagree a lot of the time, but we would never truly harm each other. We’re family. Family doesn’t do that.” 

“Yes they do,” Kubo whines. Melli is surprised by the heartbreaking look of pain etched across the boy’s face. And after a moment, Kubo blinks, seemingly just as surprised, and even confused by the words that just left his mouth. 

Melli can’t help sending a panicked glance Adaman’s way, despite knowing he couldn’t really do much in this situation. There’s quite a few implications in Kubo’s words, but despite the... mildly hostile tension between Melli and Lady Sneasler’s warden, it was really impossible to see Ingo as someone who would hurt a child. The man carries around honey candies to give to kids and nearly threw Melli off a cliff when they first met because he dared to call Kubo a ‘noodle.’ 

Seriously! It wasn’t even that bad of an insult! Kubo even laughed at it! The man was an overprotective URSARING in Bidoof’s clothing!

So, Ingo hurting Kubo? Just... unimaginable. He’s rather sure the warden would sooner take a dive into a Gyrados’ mouth. 

But. This is Kubo. Melli likes Kubo. If it means doubting someone who’s given no reason to be under suspicion... Well. He’ll do it in the name of protecting the boy. Obviously. 

He is the Great Melli, after all. 

“Kubo,” he says, almost whispers really. “Has your family hurt you before?”

“Ingo would never hurt me,” is Kubo’s immediate answer. It comes out strong and unwavering, so Melli believes it. The wording, however, is peculiar.

“But someone else in your family would?”

Kubo opens his mouth, then closes it, confusion sparking in his eyes. The Great Melli, of course, is aware that both the Pearl Clan Warden and his son had arrived with two nasty cases of amnesia, and he intelligently puts two and two together. 

“Kubo!”

Melli, Adaman, and Kubo all look up to find Ingo himself making his way over with more haste than he’d usually permit in the Highlands. His expression remains the same as usual, but there’s a panic in his voice and worry in his eyes that’s unmistakable. 

“I heard you yell! Bravo projecting your voice, but has something happened? Are you alright?!”

He makes a beeline towards Melli, crouches down, and pulls Kubo into his arms without even looking at the Diamond Clan Warden, which Melli is insulted by. Of course, he keeps his mouth shut. Kubo is distraught and now is not the time for getting on Ingo’s case once again about his abhorrent behavior. 

“You have my apologies, Warden Ingo,” Adaman says, which he certainly shouldn’t be doing because he is a Clan Leader and is above that!!! “I was speaking with Melli about him taking down the lanterns in Wayward Cave, and your son panicked because he believed I was veering towards violent behavior.”

Ingo’s expression doesn’t change much for the most part, other than his eyebrows raising a couple millimeters upwards. Obviously, he is surprised. Almighty Sinnoh knows why, Melli is sure the man daydreams about strangling him on a daily basis. His brain is certainly scrambled enough to believe anyone would do the same, despite how preposterous the notion of hurting The Great Melli is. 

Ingo, smartly, does not ask Adaman if he was veering towards violent behavior, despite probably thinking it. Instead, he looks to Kubo, eyes searching him up and down, fingers carefully prodding to see if he’s hurt.

“Kubo,” he says, for once genuinely quiet, which is quite a change. “Are you alright?”

“I...” Kubo looks conflicted. He briefly looks at Melli before looking away, which is all the man really needed to immediately insert himself into the conversation. 

“I had tried to reassure him that Adaman, who is essentially my brother and therefore my family, would do no such thing.” Melli sniffs. “Kubo, however, seemed to have some thoughts about family and their capability to hurt each other. Would you know anything about that, Warden?”

Adaman hisses at him for his boldness, but Melli pays him no mind, instead staring down Ingo calculatingly. Ingo, for his part, seems confused by the implication for a moment. But then recognition sparks in his eyes, and he nearly falls backwards when a seemingly sharp spark of pain hits him in the skull.

“Ingo–!”

Kubo balances him, clutching onto his jacket. Ingo’s eyes are screwed shut.

“Family... Our father? Fuck–”

Melli and Adaman share a look of surprise. This is the first time either of them has heard the warden curse before. Melli was rather sure the old man forgot the words along with his memories.

“We... Oh. Kubo’s my brother.”

...

What.

“Oh, dear. Kubo, you were remembering them, weren’t you? Our parents.”

Ingo ignores the absolutely baffled looks he’s receiving from both Adaman and Melli, pulling Kubo in for a firm hug. 

“They’re gone, darling. They were taken away for what they did.”

Melli cannot see the young boy’s face from where he’s sitting, what with said face being buried into the neck of Warden Ingo’s raggedy coat. But he can hear the sniffling, see the tiny hands clawing tightly at his- his brother’s chest.

Ingo continues to whisper reassurances into Kubo’s ear, rubbing soothingly on his back and rocking themselves back and forth. Adaman grabs at Melli’s elbow, standing themselves up. With a bow, he walks away, pulling Melli alongside him.

Melli doesn’t fight it. Those two... they seem to need a moment to themselves. 

...

And he certainly needs a moment to himself, too. Because how the FUCK is Warden Ingo Kubo’s BROTHER?!

[cupofteaguk]

on the road (to you)

summary: as a young adult, one of the strangest revelations is the discovery that peers of yours from past fragile college years are getting married. so imagine your shock and excitement upon receiving a wedding invitation. there are, however, two problems: (1) you are a poor early-20s recently employed adult just beginning to adjust to your 401k plan, and (2) the only available ride to the wedding comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook—friend of a friend, attendee to that aforementioned wedding, and your old college crush. 

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: roadtrip au, strangers to lovers au | fluff/angst 

warnings: recreational alcoholic consumption, definitely not an accurate representation of how a road trip might actually be, mentions of anxiety + insecurities, very minor book reference to: The Night Circus, equally minor movie references to: Mission Impossible and The Princess Bride because I have a problem, light makeout sessions, talks of DTR (define the relationship), some angst but this is me so there’s a happy ending. 

word count: 27k 

a/n: a birthday present for the one and only Jeon Jungkook, whom I love and respect so much and only wish the bestest of days for. Partly inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “invisible string” +  a love letter of sorts to my own old high school crush for whom my memory of him helped build Jungkook’s character. This also turned out way longer than I ever wanted it to be lol oops! 

update: i was actually able to do a writer’s audio tag on this fic!!! check it out if you want to hear about the behind the scenes process that went into writing this fic <3 

.

When you land a job in the months following your college graduation, you feel as if you are on top of the world. How could you not? After all, the norm that follows post-college is one of disappointment and constant hunts online to find job openings for any position that could suit your background and previous work experiences. It’s a fear that plagues lots of your friends, both those in college and out. It’s the same paranoia you had in the months leading up to graduation and the few months after graduation—in which your days were measured by the boxes you packed to move out of your tiny college apartment and into an equally tiny new apartment you currently share with an old roommate of yours, as well as the days you spent hunched over your computer and scrolling through job postings. 

You had gone through more than a handful of cover letters, resume submissions, and in person interviews before finally landing the job you currently have and have been working under for a month now. 

Throughout the course of the recent month, you’ve continued to secure certain moments that solidify the confidence that you’re finally becoming an adult. Sure, a barely functioning adult who mostly still uses the microwave to heat up your frozen Mac and Cheese—but an adult nonetheless. From learning how to pay your bills online, to realizing that grocery shopping was something you needed to make a conscious effort to do, along with going to and from your nine to five job with your coffee order in hand. 

All of those things have helped you feel like you were, perhaps, finally getting your life together. 

And then you receive the invitation in the mailbox. 

It happens when you unlock your box on a bright March morning, taking out the usual round of bills and fashion magazines until your fingers lock around an envelope bigger than the normal letter size. It’s much sturdier too. 

You don’t know what to think of the letter, until you bring the damn thing back into your apartment and rip the opening. The mere sight of the content inside makes you feel like the hand of life has just taken your figurine and moved you back a good twenty squares. 

The post in your hand reads: 

WITH GREAT JOY, IRENE AND SEOKJIN REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE FOR THEIR WEDDING CELEBRATION ON THE DAY OF MAY 25TH. COCKTAILS, DINNER, AND DANCING TO FOLLOW. 

There’s a date at the bottom of the invitation. As you line the date up with your calendar, you realize that you have a week to RSVP to the event. 

You toss the envelope onto the counter in the kitchen just to glare at the cardstock, maybe to convince yourself this is a dream or at least convince yourself that it’s normal for your friend from college to be getting married even when you have yet to land a successful relationship of your own. 

You aren’t as close with Irene as you used to be, but the memory of your friendship is still at the forefront of your mind. The pair of you met during your final year of university, when you were assigned to work together for one of your many senior projects and immediately clicked. The months you spent in her apartment and vice versa pulling out all-nighters in desperate attempts to finish your project definitely earns you an invitation. At the very least, you are happy to see that Irene: bright and smart and funny, is getting married. 

Not only that, but getting married to Seokjin. He’s a year older than you and Irene, but those two met when he was still enrolled and have been inseparable ever since. You don’t know relationships that well, but you know them enough to recognize that Seokjin and Irene were what everyone called the ‘endgame’. In truth, it was only a matter of time before you were to receive one of these from them. 

But did she really have to one-up you like this? Not that it’s a competition. However, it does leave a funny feeling to see someone the same age as you display a much more put together handle on life. You groan at the thought.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Karly asks. 

You turn to your roommate. She’s seated at the kitchen table, books out and everywhere as she looks over at you. Karly: fellow alumni, graduated from her undergrad program early to go straight into pursuing her master’s degree. She’s a busy bee. You wave the envelope. “Irene is getting married.” 

Her eyes widen. “Ah shit, no way?” She takes the paper that you offer to her and looks over the invitation. “Damn, I knew it was only a matter of time before we started getting this stuff, but to actually see it happening…” 

You groan. “I know right!” You take the cardstock back from your friend. “It’s only been six months since we graduated, how could she be getting married already?” 

“Well, Irene did have a job lined up for her right after graduation,” Karly points out thoughtfully. She sees the look of bewilderment you give her. “What? It was on her Instagram.” 

You pout. “Of course Irene would have a job lined up like that.” You run a hand through your hair. “I mean, that’s good for her. Really good, actually…” 

Karly jerks her chin towards the envelope still in your hand. “So, are you planning to go?” 

“I don’t know, do you have plans that day?” You wave the paper. “I’m allowed a plus one.” 

Your roommate cracks a smile. “Are you asking me out? A little forward of you, we’ve been friends for so long…” 

You whine, shaking the paper and little more frantically. “Karly, this is important! I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone!” 

She laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What was the date again?” 

You provide the date to her. You approach Karly’s place at the kitchen table and watch as she opens the calendar on her laptop. Immediately, you are overwhelmed by all the deadlines she’s got under practicality every date on the screen. Yet, a “wow” is the only thing you can say at the sight. 

Karly smiles, sparing you a glance over her shoulder. “One of the joys of being a grad student slash T.A. slash research assistant.” She scrolls down into May, and narrows her eyes upon May 25th. Underneath the date is an event—color coated to bright orange and typed out in all caps. CONFERENCE WITH PROFESSOR WONG. “Oh crap, I have a conference that day.” 

“No…” You whine some more, trailing off as you grab Karly by the shoulders and begin shaking. “Karly! You’ve left me out for the bears! What am I supposed to do?” 

Karly laughs as she lets herself be manhandled in this way. “I don’t know! Go and deepen your social life or something.” 

You stop shaking her and glare instead. “Is that a joke?” 

“What do you expect me to say?” She retorts, appalled by your answer. “Then don’t go.” 

You whine again. “But this is Irene, and I’ll feel bad for not going and congratulating her!” 

“Then go!” 

“But I don’t have a plus one!” 

Karly places her hands at her temples. “Oh my god, this is like the circle of stupidity with you. Then find a plus one! Or just don’t go!” She whirls around to face you. “I will help you find a dress if you decide to go. I will also sit with you on the couch and eat popcorn with you if you decide not to go.” 

You continue to pout, knowing that you deserve that gentle attempt at a lecture but still not liking the reason why you needed such a talking to. 

“Fine,” You eventually decide to say, sliding into the seat next to Karly and leaning forward to plant your entire upper body on the table. 

Karly laughs at your defeated posture. “Well, you have the rest of the week to make your decision.” 

She has a point. That doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

.

For the rest of the week the decision of whether or not you should attend the wedding becomes a weight in your mind. You spend the next few days pondering it, thinking over the pros and the cons. 

As overdramatic as it is, you think about it during work, when you’re partaking in your home workout routines, and even when you’re about to fall asleep. You do want to go, you really do. It’ll be the first time you attend a wedding that didn’t involve a relative, which feels like a big deal in your adult agenda mindset. And Irene is someone you wouldn’t mind spending an evening with to catch up. 

However, you wouldn’t get to spend the evening with Irene—after all, a wedding implies that she would likely be mingling with all of her guests and you would just be another attendee forced to find other means of entertainment. That’s where the plus one comes in handy. Except you don’t have a plus one. A slight problem. 

You sigh. Work is a little slow today, as you are also experiencing the afternoon slump in which your mind drifts away more often than usual. You find yourself with a small laundry list of tasks (such as emailing companies, working on drafts for releases, and trying to set up different appointments) but without the motivation to do those things right away. Because of that, your afternoon slump takes the form of opening airline services to find information and prices about flying to Irene’s wedding. It’s in her hometown, about a five hour flight time from here to there. 

You click on the various boxes that require information, finally allowing a search. As the search goes through, your eyes take in all the prices—both the amount to get there and to get back—and your lips part slightly at the totaling numbers. 

“Five hundred dollars?” You mutter to yourself. You’re not sure how this would work with budgeting, but you’re still trying to figure out how to balance the cost of AC, the internet, and how to eat appropriate meals at least once a day. You don’t have five hundred dollars to spend on an airplane ticket. A slightly bigger problem. 

You sigh again, resting your elbow on the desk and your chin in the palm as your eyes continue to scroll through the website. 

Behind you, fingers curl around the top of your cubicle. There is a silence between the two of you: him, merely observing, and you, completely oblivious, until he clears his throat. 

You jump, having not expected to be interrupted like this. A squeak leaves the back of your throat as you whirl around to see who is visiting you. “Jimin!” You exclaim, taking in the boy now perched along the wall of your cubicle. This is before you narrow your eyes. “Asshole, you scared me!” 

If you just started working here and learned that you’d be cursing out Park Jimin for startling you, that past version of yourself might have turned red, shocked, and nervous at the thought. A month ago, Jimin was that coworker—as friendly as friendly people come by. With his pretty eyes, perfectly soft pink lips, and freshly dyed brown hair, you had been immediately taken by his charm and helpful nature. 

Then the month went by, and you realized there were no romantic intentions on either end. Jimin then became your first friend in your new job. Albeit, he’s a nosy friend who enjoys asking questions and dragging you out to nearby bars and coming over occasionally with take-out, but a friend nonetheless. 

“Sorry!” Jimin says back, then he glares at you. “What are you doing over here anyways?” 

You shake your head. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? You’ve been sighing all afternoon.” Jimin pulls out a slip of paper from behind his back. “Fifty times in the last hour, I swear to god.” 

You straighten out of your seat to get a better look at the paper, unamused to find fifty tally marks across the surface. “You’re lying, there’s no way that I sighed fifty times in an hour.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t know, you’re the one doing all the sighing!” Jimin retorts, lowering his hand with the paper. “Is something up with you? Did something happen?” His eyes flicker to the monitor screen behind you and he frowns. “What the fuck? Are you moving away already?” 

You blink. “What?” 

He jerks his chin towards the computer. “You’re looking at flight prices.” 

“Huh?” You turn around, having completely forgotten about your previous predicament in light of discovering that Jimin counts your sighs. “Oh! No…” 

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “No, you’re not looking at flight prices?” 

You slide back into your chair, a silent invitation for Jimin to step further into your cubicle. You sigh again, and he holds the paper back up. Taking a pencil out of his pocket, he makes another mark. You look over at him upon hearing the pencil scratch and scowl. “Give me that!” You grab the paper from his hand. “I’m dealing with a crisis right now, don’t count my sighs!”

“Alright! Alright!” Jimin slides behind you and leans forward to get a better look at your computer screen. “So where are you moving to this time?” 

You press your lips together. “I’m not moving away. A friend of mine from college is getting married. I’m just trying to see how expensive it would be to fly over there.” 

He whistles at the five hundred dollar price in your cart. “That’s pretty expensive.” 

“I know!” You groan, throwing yourself further back into your chair. “I wouldn’t mind going, but I don’t have a plus one. And as you can see, flying there would be a challenge on my wallet.” 

Jimin hums at that. “Well, regarding your plus one problem, I wouldn’t mind going with you.” 

You turn to look at him. “Really? You’d go across the country and endure an entire evening with your coworker and her old college classmates?” 

He shrugs. “If you’re desperate, I’ll keep my offer around.” He actually pouts this time. “Are you implying that you see me more as a coworker than a friend? After all the times we’ve hung out outside of work!” 

Your eyes widen slightly, having not thought of that. “No, no, Jimin, I mean—yes, I do see you as a friend now but we met as coworkers so I just think of you as a coworker first—!” You’re rambling. 

Jimin interrupts by patting your shoulder, the corner of his lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m just messing with you.” 

You shake your head again. “Asshole,” You grumble, returning your attention back to your computer. 

Jimin is still mid-laughter behind you. “Anyways, yeah, like I said. If you’re desperate to go, I wouldn’t mind going with you. But deciding how to get there is a different question entirely.” 

You turn to glare at your friend for a moment. “I’ll let you know.” 

He nods, before his lips part and he’s snapping his fingers. “Oh yeah! I wanted to ask you something.” 

He backs up, allowing you enough space to turn around fully and face him. “Okay, what’s up?” 

Jimin grins, lifting his leg up to nudge your chair slightly. “I’m going out tonight—you should come with.” 

You don’t even give this a second thought. Your lips turn into a downwards curl as you shake your head. “Nope.” 

Jimin looks appalled. “Why not? Didn’t you have fun the last time we went out?” 

“If ‘fun’ to you is trying to drag your drunk ass home and staying the night to make sure you wouldn’t choke on your vomit…” You grumble, trying not to shudder at the memory. It has only been a few days since that ‘fun’ time. 

“I told you that sometimes I overestimate my abilities, and I already apologized for that,” Jimin points out, although he does have the decency to look guilty for that mess. He perks up again. “But this’ll be different, I promise. I’m meeting up with some friends and we’re just gonna catch up. It’s at one of the quieter bars uptown: no loud DJ, no bright lights, no bottomless rum and coke. Promise. It’ll just be a lot of socializing.” He watches you hesitantly. Socializing has never been your strong suit. “And finger food.” 

The mention of food does make you look up towards him—your first sign of interest towards something. However, another thought weighs you down. “Are you sure you even want me to go?” You ask after a moment. “I mean, this is a catch up with friends. Wouldn’t I be intruding?” 

“Not at all!” Jimin brushes off, waving away your concern with his hand. “I told you, it’s a socializing thing. Besides, my friends are always bringing someone along. They were asking me when I’d have a friend tag along, so I thought you’d be a good selection.” He notices you still frowning. “C’mon! It’ll be fun. When I’m not vomiting over your shoes, I’m good company. And I promise I won’t be vomiting this time.” 

You stare at Jimin for a moment longer, contemplating his words. This is very true. Jimin is an ideal friend to have during social gatherings—he’s good at keeping a conversation going so you don’t have to shoulder the weight alone, he’s good at reading when you’re in a good mood and when you’re ready to go home, and he’s excellent at keeping unwanted attention away. You know this. Jimin knows that you know this. 

It takes one curl of your lips for Jimin to grin, knowing that he has convinced you. “Okay!” He says, finalizing the decision without having to hear the actual answer from you. He pats your knee. “We’ll take the subway after work, it’s just a few stops down.” 

If your mind conjures up any second thoughts, Jimin leaves before you are able to express them. 

.

True to Jimin’s word, the pair of you step into a subway heading westbound as soon as you’re finished with work. It’s much later in the day now, the afternoon sun has changed into a night sky with a chill spring breeze to match. The carts are filled with the evening crowd of adults, all done with another day of work and finding enjoyment for the rest of today by returning home or seeing friends. It’s a rarity that you would fall under that latter category, but the thought makes you excited nonetheless. 

“Alright, so you wanna tell me a little bit about these friends that I’m seeing tonight?” You ask, gripping the handlebar above you but leaning towards Jimin so he can hear what you’re saying over the noise of the subway speeding down the tracks. 

Jimin grins. “They’re just some friends I grew up with. We like to get together once a month to catch up and hang out, since everyone is so busy with their own lives.” 

You smile back. “That’s actually really sweet of you guys, to plan hangouts once a month.” 

He lightly flicks your forehead. “Hey, are you saying I’m normally not very sweet?” 

“Well, not right now!” You protest, hand over your forehead. “That hurt.” 

“You’re being a baby!” Jimin retorts back. 

The pair of you continue to bicker like this until your stop is announced over the intercom. Jimin halts the further insults being thrown at each other as he gestures towards the approaching station, as seen through the window of the subway. 

“This is our stop,” Jimin says to you, allowing you to step out onto the platform first. He joins behind you right after, leading the way as the subway’s three chimes signal the closing of the doors. There’s a breeze that follows, running through your hair and clothes as the subway zooms away to its next stop. The station itself is crowded, filled with groups of friends and individuals carrying on with the rest of their evening, overall looking so lively and you can feel yourself feeding off their energy. 

With a gesture pointing up the stairs that’ll take the pair of you to ground level, Jimin leads the way. You make your way through people, following Jimin’s guide until you’re both exiting the station and entering the world of your new stop. It’s another area of the city you work in, so the change in scenery isn’t too dramatic—but it’s a place more catered towards restaurants, shopping areas, and hang-out sections. The bright neon signs protrude out from the building, flashing the various products or services the specific building offered: from manicure care to corner ramen shops. 

“C’mon, let’s hurry!” Jimin calls back to you, picking his pace up slightly. He’s not running, but his long legs make it harder for you to keep up. “Everyone is already there.” 

The pair of you continue to pace down the sidewalk, past the crowds of people waiting to eat, people lingering outside of clothing stores. Finally, Jimin slows down near a restaurant. He looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still behind him, before entering the establishment. He mentions something about knowing where their seats are, before continuing deeper into the restaurant. 

As you look around, the place does look like a restaurant slash bar—not as crazy as some of the bars Jimin takes you with the intention of actually getting drunk, but there’s still a bar here and there’s still alcohol being shared heavily. It’s the same demographic of early 20s, young adults with friends, but there are actual tables and chairs and booths set up like a restaurant. So you suppose Jimin hadn’t been lying to you about this. 

“There they are!” Jimin says to you, as you look up and follow Jimin’s finger to the table in the far corner that is completely filled with the exception of two seats. You vaguely make out the back of some heads, most belonging to boys, before your eyes land on one of the boys facing you and Jimin. He’s sitting at the far end of the table, currently laughing brightly at something one of the boys at the table has said. For all intents and purposes, the boy is cute. Extremely cute. When he laughs, his eyes and nose crinkle and his lips spread into a wild smile—and brings out the dimple on his cheek. He looks like the embodiment of all your ideal types mashed into a singular being. 

All of those things. Yet, that is not the reason why you are staring. None of those things come close to why you stop dead in your tracks, why your heart drops in your chest, why your eyes widen. Even with the shitty lighting in this restaurant, you are one hundred percent positive. “Jimin!” You manage to choke out, having enough well power to grab onto his hand seconds before he is able to make himself and yourself known to his friends. 

He whirls around, wide-eyed and curious and worried. “What? Is everything okay?” 

You shake your head. The room feels too small. “I think there’s something I should tell you—!” 

“Hey, is that Jimin? Jimin!” Your voice is very easily drowned out by the sound of another, much louder voice that seems to boom through the restaurant. 

Jimin turns back around in time to face one of the boys from the table who has gotten out of his seat. You are able to see him from over Jimin’s shoulder—a tall boy with messy unkempt hair and a boxy smile. Jimin greets him with a “Taehyung!” before the boys embrace. “Taehyungie,” Jimin continues afterwards, turning around so both are able to face you. “This is Y/N, she’s a coworker of mine.” 

Taehyung grins, a friendly gesture that makes you relax. But only slightly. “Y/N! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a bit about you from Jimin. All good things, I promise.” 

“W-Well, that’s good to hear,” You manage shakily, eyes nervously darting to the boy at the end of the table, who has stopped his conversation and is now looking at you and Jimin. 

“Let me introduce you,” Jimin says, breaking your concentration as he rests a hand on your shoulder. He points right at the boy at the end of the table, who is still staring at you. His eyebrows are furrowed together. You want to bury yourself alive. “That one over there is—!” 

A lightbulb seems to go off in the boy’s head. His face breaks out into a smile as he points at you. “Hey, Y/N!” 

Jimin looks taken aback at the fact you are being recognized by someone at the table. His hand lowers as he looks over at you. 

You, however, cannot focus on Jimin. You can only focus on the boy at the end of the table, the boy currently smiling over at you with all the light in his eyes, the boy who makes the memories flash through your mind. From that, the best you can manage is a tiny smile. “Jungkook!” 

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Where do you even begin with him? 

You met Jungkook during your second year of university. He had been an arts major (you were not) and yet, your paths crossed multiple times throughout the quarter as a result of sharing many general education classes together. You even were forced to pair up on a project for one of those aforementioned G.E. classes. Neither of you ran in the same social circle, but that didn’t change how sweet, funny, charming, endearing, easy-going, friendly, smart, and nice Jungkook was. It was very easy for him to make friends, very easy for him to go out of his way to say hi to you in the library or in class or in the cafeteria, and very easy for him to strike up a basic conversation with you. 

Because of that, it was very easy for you to fall for him—to develop a deep-rooted crush that went on for the rest of your university experience. You would use the term ‘friends’ very loosely when describing what your relationship with Jungkook had been. You had never hung out with him outside the context of school, never went out to eat with him, and never saw him again after graduation. Until now. 

Actually, ‘acquaintances’ would probably be a much more fitting term. 

“Hey, I haven’t seen you since graduation!” Jungkook is saying as he stands up from his chair and approaches you. As if on autopilot, you return the one armed hug he gives you. His smile, while still pleasant, holds a surprising tinge of shyness to it. 

“Woah, hold on a second,” Jimin interrupts, immediately pointing between Jungkook and you. “You guys know each other?” 

“Y/N and I went to university together!” Jungkook provides. 

Jimin looks like his eyes are about to fall out of his sockets. 

“We’ve known each other since second year,” Jungkook continues. He looks over at you. “I didn’t know you know Jimin.” 

“Uh…” You forget how to speak. You’re too busy looking at Jungkook as if you haven’t seen him for years. In a way, it feels like that. Seeing people from college outside of college after a graduation ceremony is like meeting them again for the first time—most of them develop a more independent look. Some look like their life is seconds from falling apart. Some look much happier without the institutional pressure to secure classes and grades and internships. Sadly for you, Jungkook falls under the latter category. Did he always have that twinkle of starlight in his eyes? 

“Y/N and I work together,” Jimin provides, seeming to realize that you weren’t going to answer Jungkook’s question. “She started working about a month ago.” 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jungkook replies, still looking at you. It is then he seems to notice that the three of you are standing in the middle of the restaurant. Although you are not distracting any patrons, the workers probably don’t appreciate it. “How about we sit down? We’ll be able to catch up more!” 

Jimin seems to regain control of the situation quicker than you do, because he nods at Jungkook. “Let me introduce her to everyone, then we’ll join you.” You look over to where Jungkook had been sitting and immediately notice the previously empty two chairs right across from him—like fate, or something terrible like that. 

So you watch as Jungkook makes his way back to his seat, and Jimin starts to guide you around the table. He only drops a name. Surprisingly, he doesn’t linger, he merely takes you to the next person. It only takes you a second to figure out why. 

“You didn’t tell me you know Jungkook,” Jimin hisses in between the time it takes to travel in between people. 

“I didn’t know you knew Jungkook!” You hiss back. You smile and nod politely at the person Jimin introduces as Yoongi. “Seriously, you never mentioned him once!” 

Jimin only keeps his frustration for a moment before he’s introducing you to someone named Hoseok, a boy with a bright smile, the one who was making Jungkook laugh earlier. “Okay, fine,” He relents, the pair of you finally move to take your seats. “But what was that earlier?” 

“What was what?” 

“You were just staring at him! What, did you have a huge crush on him or something—?” Jimin accuses, but he stops. Just as the pair of you are about to sit down, Jimin parts his lips in realization. “Oh.” Then, he sends you an absolutely wicked grin. “Oh, okay.” 

Your eyes widen at him, murder in your eyes. “Jimin!” 

“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice cuts through your little biting banter with Jimin. 

You whirl around to face Jungkook, eyes completely devoid of murder and voice several pitches higher. “Hi, Jungkook!” 

He smiles, such a wonderful little thing that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Hi.” 

Jimin ducks his head to hide the fact that he wants nothing more than to burst into fits of laughter. 

“So how have you been?” Jungkook starts up. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. Since you landed a job, you seem to be doing well.” 

“I am!” You manage, only continuing to try and keep a handle on your heart and managing well enough this time. “There were a few months of just scrolling through job postings and writing cover letter after cover letter though.” 

Jungkook laughs, another beautiful gesture that makes you mirror his smile. “I definitely feel that.” 

“Well, what about you? What have you been up to?” You ask. “I think I saw on your Instagram and you were traveling around for a little?” 

His eyes light up at that. “Oh yeah! I don’t know if you remember Kim Mingyu from school?” You do. “Well, he and a friend of his got into some freelancing and had to do some traveling around to work on some filming. He asked me to come along because I actually have some photography experience. So that was a thing I did for a few months.” 

You nod, smiling. “No way! That’s so cool.” 

You do relax after a few conversational exchanges with Jungkook. He’s just as relaxed and mellow, yet friendly and polite as ever, and it’s easy to make conversation with him as it always has been. Eventually, you join in on the larger conversations with the whole table—touching on topics from your university experiences to tales from your new job. A lot of your role, however, falls to listening. Jimin’s friends are rowdy, funny, and out-going. They invite you in like you have been in this group for years—and are able to provide context on older memories they are revisiting. 

Most of your evening, however, is engaging in conversation with Jungkook. Occasionally, Jimin will join in, but he does spend most of his time laughing along to something his other friends are saying. Since you and Jungkook have always been friendly with each other, long conversations aren’t out of the ordinary. You just never considered how well you and Jungkook got along, how easy it would be to transition from topic to topic. 

“I am really glad that Jimin invited you along,” Jungkook explains brightly after the pair of you are done laughing following Jungkook’s tale of another fuck-ups with Kim Mingyu. “Makes you realize how small the world is.” 

“Oh, you should have seen her moping around earlier today,” Jimin interjects, choosing now of all times to insert himself back into your conversation with Jungkook. “She was sighing all afternoon—so maybe we should thank her misery that I decided to invite her along tonight.” 

Jungkook turns to you, a sympathetic look across his face. “Did you have a bad day today?” 

You try for a laugh, waving away Jimin’s words. “Jimin’s just overreacting. Actually, I found out a friend of mine from college is getting married, so I was trying to figure out my plan…” You start, trailing off as you look at Jungkook. “Wait, you didn’t know Irene, did you?” 

“I did.” His eyes widen as his lips part in realization. “Oh my god, you were invited to Irene’s wedding too?” 

“I was!” You exclaim, unsure whether you should be excited or even more nervous at the prospect of potentially seeing Jungkook at the wedding event. “Holy shit, this makes it an even smaller world. How did you know Irene?” 

Jungkook is still mid-giggle at the pure coincidence of everything. “We both knew Mingyu! This is so crazy. Are you planning to go?” 

You shrug. Jimin chooses to interject once more. “That’s what Y/N over here was sighing all afternoon over.” 

You whine as you look at Jimin. “No need to sell me out! Listen, Jungkook.” You turn back to the boy opposite of you, who is still gazing at you. “I’m sure you understand my current predicament.” 

“Sure.” 

“You know how expensive flights can be.” 

“Of course.” 

You fold your arms over each other and rest them on the table. “So, are you planning to go to the wedding?” 

He nods. “Most likely, yeah. I actually knew that the wedding was going to be happening soon, since Mingyu told me about it as soon as Irene got the ring. I ran into the flight problem pretty quickly too, so I decided to just drive to the event.” 

Jimin whistles. “Drive across the country, huh, JK? That must be a four day trip, or something.” 

“It was coming out to be,” Jungkook acknowledges with a nod. “But it’s okay.” He’s grinning, looking excited at the prospect. “I’ve never done a cross country drive before, so it was actually kind of exciting to plan the route. There are a few places I want to stop by and visit. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Then, Jungkook turns back to you. “If you decide that flying would be too expensive, then you’re more than welcome to come along. It’ll be nice to have some company and not spend four days by myself.” 

Entirely on instinct, you start to laugh. You think he’s joking—how could you not? This is probably one of the longest conversations you’ve ever had with Jungkook. Like you’ve mentioned before, you wouldn’t consider him a friend. Why would he seriously try to invite you on a road trip?  “Yeah, I’m not too sure—I’ve never done a cross country trip before…” 

The conversation shifts pretty quickly as soon as you reply back to Jungkook. Hoseok asks you a question that drags your attention away, simultaneously allowing you to forget about Jungkook’s request. 

The end of the dinner happens soon after, when the bill has been paid and you suspect the long line of people outside waiting for a table are waiting for your party to be done. So venmo exchanges and money debts go around until each member of the table starts standing up one by one to make their move to exit the restaurant. 

You and Jimin are one of the first to leave. Goodbyes are exchanged along with the polite ‘it was nice to meet you’ phrase thrown around. Jungkook is mid-conversation with Yoongi, but he still gives you a quick hug of parting before you and Jimin exit the restaurant. 

The pair of you only make it out a few steps before there is a familiar voice calling your name. “Hey, Y/N! Y/N, wait up!” You stop and turn around, surprised to see Jungkook dashing out of the restaurant. He rests himself for a moment before he’s straightening back up to look at you. 

You try for a smile. “Hey Jungkook, what’s up?” 

He takes in a few more deep breaths to calm himself—either from the dashing he just did or to steel himself for the next question, you don’t know. “It’s about me inviting you to drive up to Irene’s wedding—I just thought I’d let you know it was a serious invitation. Having the company would be nice, and you wouldn’t be a burden to me, seriously. Besides, it’ll be fun to spend some time together.” 

“O-Oh,” You stammer, wringing your hands together. “I’m not too sure… I still have to think about it.” 

“Of course, of course,” Jungkook dismisses good naturedly. “Just thought I’d let you know, so you know that you do have options.” 

Although the offer makes you nervous, you cannot dismiss Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. You give him a more relaxed smile. “I really appreciate that Jungkook, thank you.” 

He smiles at your smile. “No problem! Actually…” He digs around for the wallet in his pocket and produces a little card. “Here’s my business card—my cell phone number is on here so just text or call if you decide to join me. Or,” He presses his lips into a more bashful smile. “You can just text me whenever for whatever reason. I just thought I’d let you know that it was good to see you again.” 

You take the card slowly, unable to look away from Jungkook’s face. He looks so genuine and shy that it doesn’t help your own racing heart. “It was good to see you too, Jungkook…” You return, albeit a little breathlessly. 

He smiles again, dimples pressing in his cheek (and your heart). He turns to Jimin “Oh yeah, nice seeing you too Park.” 

“Hey.” Jimin hits him on the shoulder. “I’m your hyung, you should show me more respect!” 

“My bad, my bad.” Jungkook doesn’t apologize though. His gaze flickers to yours one more time, gaze looking strangely hopeful. “I’ll see you guys around.” He walks backwards a few paces before turning around and returning to the restaurant. Maybe to see his other friends. 

Either way, it doesn’t matter. You are still screaming internally regardless—as shown through your red cheeks, widened eyes, and singing heart. Jimin will certainly never let you live this moment down. 

. 

Now, you are screaming externally. You don’t even give a thought or an explanation. You simply walk into your apartment, nosedive for the couch, and start yelling into one of the throw pillows. 

There’s a rapid movement of footsteps coming from down the hallway almost immediately, one that grows gradually louder until the owner of the steps starts speaking. “Who the fuck is out there? I’ve played softball my entire life and therefore will not hesitate to drive this bat so far up your ass—oh, Y/N.” The voice lowers significantly, as does the threat level it emits into the air. “It’s just you.” 

You lift your face from the throw pillow, and immediately brush away at the hair that falls in your face. “What the fuck!” You croak, pushing yourself into a sitting position and pointing at the bat in Karly’s hands. “What are you doing threatening me with a bat? You’ve never played a game of softball in your life!” 

“Oh, this isn’t mine. It’s Soonyoung’s.” Soonyoung is Karly’s boyfriend from high school, who used to play baseball on the high school team. How Karly has her boyfriend’s baseball bat is a mystery, but it’s something you think you are better off not asking about. She places the bat down on the carpet next to the coffee table. “But I should be asking you the questions, you bitch! You scared the shit out of me!” 

You sigh, throwing your head to rest on the back of the couch. “Sorry, sorry. Had a crazy day.” 

Karly ponders this as she moves to take a seat next to you. “You seemed fine when you texted me about you getting drinks with Jimin. Did something happen during the dinner?” 

You straighten up again and grip Karly by the arm. “Okay, don’t scream.” 

“You mean like you did?” Karly retorts dryly. 

You shake her. “I’m serious!” When Karly doesn’t say anything, you take it as a sign to continue with your story. “I saw Jungkook.” 

Karly blinks, then grabs your arm right back. “Wait, Jeon Jungkook, as in the guy you’ve been crushing on since second year?” 

“Yes!” You whine, throwing yourself onto the couch all over again. 

“The one you had to work together on a project with and nearly cried even though you guys just had to submit a paper?” 

“Yes!” 

“The one who said hi to you in the library that one time and you tried to put your elbow on the table afterwards but you missed and hit your head instead?” 

You pause, scowling. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. Are you done?” 

Karly is laughing. “Oh my god. What are the chances of you seeing him now?” 

“There’s more,” You groan out. 

“Really? Honestly that yell could have been just for seeing him again and that would have made sense—!” 

You ignore her. “He’s friends with Jimin. He’s friends with Irene, too. He was invited to her wedding.” 

“Wait, Jimin is friends with Irene or Jungkook is friends with Irene—?” 

“He won’t pay for the flight though. It’s too expensive. I can attest to that.” 

Karly holds a finger up, trying to connect the dots. “When did you look up flight prices—?” 

“So he invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.” 

Karly frowns. 

You sigh. “Jungkook invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.” 

“Oh! Oh!” Karly’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, that’s huge. Are you gonna go?” 

“I don’t know!” You whine. “Jungkook mentioned it would be a four day drive to get there. I don’t know if I can survive four days in a car with him! We’ve never been that close, what if it gets awkward?” 

Karly ponders this. “I really don’t think it’s in Jungkook’s nature to be awkward with someone—especially someone he’s had a history with.” She sees the look of disbelief you give her. “Well, even if that history was really limited. What makes you think it’ll be awkward? Was it awful seeing him tonight?” 

“No!” You cry, straightening into a sitting position so your legs drape over the side of the couch. You force yourself to calm down. “It… it was pretty good actually.” 

Karly raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Really now.” 

“Yeah…” You reply, trailing off. “We sat across from each other during the dinner and we talked most of the night, surprisingly. I guess because we were sort of acquaintances we’ve always known about each other, so it wasn’t like we didn’t know how to ask questions to each other. And Jungkook… he’s easy to talk to as he’s always been and he’s so nice and positive and he has a dimple on his cheek when he smiles…” You finish slowly, noticing your racing heart that has come up as a result of this conversation and of your memory. You realize the predicament you’re in, further emphasized by Karly’s growing grin. You groan. “Shut up.” 

Karly looks like a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t say anything.” 

You grab onto one of the throw pillows and properly hit her in the face. “You’re saying many things right now, you bitch!” 

Karly takes the pillow from you and proceeds to whack you in the shoulder. “Not outloud!” 

“So you admit it!” You accuse, pointing at her. 

Karly yells. “Just admit you still have a crush on him!” 

Your groan turns into a cry. “Don’t say it outloud! Now I have to deal with it!” 

Your roommate sighs. “Bitch, I can tell you exactly how to deal with this. You’re gonna go on this road trip with Jungkook and see if you guys vibe—you honestly will not find a better way to discover your compatibility with him. If it works out, then you get more than a plus one to the wedding. If it doesn’t work out, just skip the wedding and take the first flight back home. Cut off your friendship with Jimin while you’re at it—it’s the only way to ensure you’ll never have to run into Jungkook again.” 

You pout. “That seems a little dramatic.” 

Karly thinks for a second, then she nudges you. “Remind me again about that quote your high school English teacher used to always parade around.” 

You stare at her for a moment, because you know exactly what point she’s trying to make. Still, you decide to humor her. And yourself. “‘You’ll never know if you’ll sink, swim, or float, until you’re willing to take the plunge’.” You level Karly with another gaze. Your friend has a point. You missed any chance to hang out with Jungkook during your college years—partly because your friend groups never intersected, but mostly because of your internalized fear of fucking up. But now that you are just a little older and just a little more versed in the art of conversing and befriending—maybe Karly is right. Maybe this is your chance to see if a different set of timing could make a difference. 

So you sigh. 

“I guess I should text Jungkook, huh.” 

Karly pats you on the shoulder. “Take the plunge, my dude.” 

.

You do take the plunge. You take Jungkook’s business card out from the pocket of your dress and dial the number. He expresses excitement—and also relief. 

These things lead up to the current moment. Eight o’clock in the morning: you lingering in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, your suitcase by the door, and a roommate keeping you company. 

You don’t realize how nervous you are until you get a text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (8:03am): i’m here! u can buzz me up so i can help u with your stuff :) 

You (8:03am): it’s ok jungkook it’s just a suitcase. i’ll be down in a second! 

You pocket your phone, and Karly can read the expression across your face before you realize what is going on. She straightens up. “He’s here?” 

“Yeah.” You rinse your coffee cup and make your way towards the door. “Did you want to come down with me?” 

Karly stops and gives you a look. “I thought that was already implied.” 

“Well, thanks, that’s really nice—!” 

“Someone has to give you an embarrassing goodbye.” 

“There it is.” You sigh. You don’t say anything as you and Karly exit the apartment and make your way down the hall into the elevator. It only takes a few seconds for the elevator to lower down to the ground floor, where you and Karly exit and make your way to the front of the apartment complex. 

You swear your heart beats just a little faster as soon as you see Jungkook near the front entrance of the building. He’s wearing a pair of black jackets with an oversized denim jacket and currently looking down at his phone—overall appearing so tall and pretty and otherworldly. For a brief second, you are taken by the fact that for the next four days, he’ll be yours. 

Jungkook looks up as soon as he hears the door opening and he smiles. “Hey you.” 

You smile, albeit a little lopsided and dreamy. “Hi.” 

Jungkook walks towards you immediately. “Here, let me help you with that.” He reaches a hand out and gently takes the handle of your suitcase before you can say anything. Just as he’s taking the suitcase from you, Karly emerges from the building. “Oh, sorry about that.” 

Karly waves him off. “Don’t be. I’m Y/N’s roommate—I’m just here to see her off.” 

Jungkook stares at her for a moment, then he snaps his fingers. “Wait, I remember you. You went to college with us too.” He jerks his chin towards you. “You hung out with Y/N a lot, right?” 

“Yeah, I’m Karly.” She holds out her hand for Jungkook to shake. “And you’re right, she and I hung out a lot. We were roommates back then too.” 

Jungkook nods in understanding, before shoving his hand into his pocket. His other hand is still holding onto your suitcase. “Well, I promise to take good care of Y/N.” 

Karly smacks her teeth against the side of her mouth as she points at him. “You’re a good man, Jungkook.” She pauses for a moment, seeming to contemplate a new thought. You recognize the look immediately, and your fingers twitch as if you want to strangle her. Or at least let her know you’re throwing her a look of murderous intent. But of course, Karly doesn’t see it. And even if she had, you doubt she’d care. “But no funny business, alright.” 

You gape at her. “Karly!” 

Jungkook coughs at that. “I-It’s just a drive—y-you don’t need to worry about that.” He does, however, turn away to hide the red that dusts his cheeks. 

As soon as Jungkook’s back is facing you, you whirl around to shoot Karly with a glare. “Karly, you’re lucky I’m leaving for the next four days or I would not hesitate to figure out how to make stuffocation look like an accident!” You hiss out between teeth without taking a breath. 

Karly glares right back. “You’re really dumb, aren’t you? The fact that he recognizes me because he saw you hanging out with me on campus doesn’t strike any chords? Even though, like you said, you guys weren’t really friends?” 

You blink. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Karly widens her eyes. “What the fuck do you mean? Are you dumb with all the boys or just Jungkook?” 

“What do you mean!” You snap back. 

“So, Y/N, ready to go?” 

You whirl back around to find Jungkook now standing in front of you and Karly. He must have finished packing your suitcase in the trunk of his car and is now looking over at you with a tilt in his head. 

So you force a smile. “Of course,” You say, turning to Karly. “I was just saying bye to my roommate.” 

He nods in understanding, sparing one more glance at Karly before seeming to decide against it because he looks away. He’s still a little red at Karly’s previous comment. “We should get going then.” 

“Sure.” You look over at your roommate. “See you, bitch.” 

Karly waves back, grinning wildly. You just know she has several other thoughts she’d like to share with you, but has probably deemed you embarrassed enough. Lucky for you, she keeps her mouth shut. 

Unlucky for you, without Karly to be a barrier of distraction, this leaves you alone with Jungkook. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, still not yet processing the weight of what you’ve just agreed to. You fiddle alone for a second before Jungkook is opening the driver’s side and shifting into his seat. 

There is a silence as Jungkook is starting the car, and a part of you wants to die. Or at least have the ground swallow you whole. Holy fuck, what did you just sign up for? 

Your mind somehow takes five seconds to turn into complete shambles that you almost miss Jungkook’s question. 

“Here, I’m giving you an important mission,” Jungkook says, rummaging through the various chords that lay over the center console before producing an aux cord. “Should you choose to accept.” 

He’s got on such a serious expression you momentarily forget about your anxiety. His usage of the iconic line from Mission Impossible makes you laugh—a breathy sort of noise that escapes when your mind is too full. You still take the aux cord. “Oh my god—ever heard of bluetooth?” 

He pouts. “It hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re already insulting my beautiful Celia!” 

You raise both your eyebrows. “Celia?” 

“Yeah, that’s the name of my car.” He catches the bewildered look you give him before angling himself back to face the steering wheel, where he shifts his console into drive and makes a turn onto the main street. “If you’re already weirded out by the fact I have a name for my baby, then you’re in for a very long four days, Miss. Y/N.” 

You giggle, feeling that distraction of nerves start to come off your shoulders. “Not weird at all.” You pause. “Ryan is the name of my car.” 

“Ah!” He holds one arm out in a grand gesture. “You see, not so strange after all.” He steals a glance at you, watching as you’re about to connect your phone to the aux cord. “Wait!” He says, pointing a finger at you. 

You look up at him, wide eyes. 

He’s still holding an arm up. “How’s your music taste?” 

You’re still giving him your surprised expression. “You scared me!” 

He laughs, returning his hand back to the steering wheel. “Sorry, sorry. I have to ask though—I’d rather know now than later, so I can kick you out and not feel as bad about it.” 

Your laughter seems to melt away the last of your nervous energy. “Nice to know you’re putting all your cards out now.” You look down at your phone. “Regarding my music taste… it’s whatever you want dude! I have some lo-fi on here, some pop, alternative, Broadway, anime openings… an ‘everything’ playlist. Honestly, the world is your oyster.” 

“How about we start with your ‘everything’ playlist,” Jungkook suggests. “That way I can judge you immediately.” 

“Were you always this charming, Jeon Jungkook?” You retort. “Or has graduation changed you?” 

“Oh, I’ve always been this charming—you just never noticed.” 

That comment, however, goes over your head as you focus down on your playlist. You look over, selecting the shuffle option as Taylor Swift’s soft music from her newest album fills the air. Another silence fills the car, but it’s much more peaceful and comfortable. You allow yourself to settle further into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. 

“So,” You start after a moment. Jungkook hums to let you know he’s paying attention. “What inspired the name Celia?” 

Jungkook brightens at the question. “She was this character from a book I read when I was younger. The Night Circus? Anyways, the book is about these two illusionists who try to one up each other with their skills of magic, but they end up falling in love. Celia is the name of one of those illusionists.” 

You grin. “Sounds like a very cute crush.” 

Jungkook grins back. 

The drive out of the city continues like this. The pair of you cover the topic of books, of music, of your favorite animes. Jungkook just has this magical power of ensuring the tension dissipates from your mind and stays gone—whether it’s through his relaxed nature or easy-going teasing or his ability to ease the conversation from one topic to the next. It feels like every conversation you and Jungkook had in college, whether vague or circling around classes, all have led up to this moment. It seems like everytime you or Jungkook run out of things to talk about pertaining to a certain topic, you would bring up memories from college and just continue from there. Everything feels natural. 

It continues to feel natural even as you and Jungkook slowly start to see the edges of the city landscape fade away. The high rises fade into shorter buildings and smaller business areas that surround the bustling city scene. You watch as those buildings and business areas become rows of houses. Residential areas in the suburbs, passing by the occasional school or corner restaurants. 

“Before we enter the wide unknown,” Jungkook starts up, breaking the quiet that has enveloped the car. “You want to pick up lunch? You hungry?” 

You haven’t even realized how much time has gone by until you look at the clock on Jungkook’s dashboard and notice that it’s past noon. You widen your eyes at the sight. “Wow, I didn’t even realize so much time had passed.” 

“Yeah, we drove through a few cities. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” 

“You wish,” You tease, sticking your tongue out. “So, what, do we stop at a Cheesecake factory or something?” 

Jungkook blinks. “I thought you were poor—why would we stop at the Cheesecake factory? And why is that the first restaurant that comes to your mind?” 

You wave your hands. “It was just a suggestion!” 

“Well, I’m realizing that I should probably let you know that the motel I picked for us to drive to tonight is pretty far out—Google Maps says we probably won’t get there until midnight, and that’s with us driving straight through.” 

“Midnight? Fuck, Jungkook. Will we make it to the wedding a day early or something?” 

“Ha, ha, no. I’ll go over the schedule I planned out tomorrow. Basically, I want to try and cover most of our ground on the first day so we can take the rest of the trip easy. But I thought I’d let you know now that sitting in a restaurant probably won’t be the most time responsible idea.” 

“That’s true.” You look out the window again and see the golden arches of McDonalds appear within your line of sight. “Let’s just stop at McDonalds.” 

Jungkook follows your gaze. “Alright, down. Let’s do it.” 

He exits off the freeway, following down a route that takes him almost immediately towards the McDonalds parking lot. Since this restaurant is still within the lines of the city, it’s not completely deserted. There are a few cars in the parking lot, even fewer cars in the drive-through line. Because of this, ordering the food only takes a few minutes. Both of you get chicken nuggets, sodas, and large orders of french fries. 

“You know, we’re really living like kings,” You comment as Jungkook drives out and makes his way back onto the freeway. “College graduates, both somehow able to secure a job, and still ordering chicken mcnuggets.” 

Jungkook shrugs. “I wasn’t told this is what adulthood would be like. But I’m not complaining. My 10-year-old self is singing in so much joy right now.” He says this as he’s stuffing a handful of fries into your mouth. You laugh, and hand him a napkin. 

You turn the music back on. The pair of you silently munch on your chicken nuggets, as you angle your head towards the side window once again. As Jungkook drives, the numbers of structural spaces become more scattered the longer you both continue down the freeway. 

The anime opening to Haikyuu starts playing when you turn back to Jungkook and realize that he’s trying to close the box of his chicken nuggets. You move right away, taking the cardboard from him and closing it yourself. “Let me know if you need anything, Jungkook. Think of me as your co-pilot.” 

He laughs gently. “Is that the rule of the passenger seat?” 

You shrug, putting the empty box into the McDonalds bag near your feet. “For me at least. Everytime I do one of these drives with family, the person in the passenger seat has to open the snacks, make conversation, and always stay awake with the driver. It’s just courtesy.”

Jungkook is smiling softly now, mostly to himself, but it lights the corners of his eyes that makes you momentarily unable to look away. “You wanna tell me about your family?” 

So you do. Your voice becomes softer as you continue, but Jungkook listens to every single word you say. 

True to his observation, it’s not long before the pair of you are surrounded by the wide unknown. Houses in the suburbs become farmhouses and farms. Conversations fade from your family to another comfortable silence as you continue gazing out the window. Jungkook requests your lo-fi playlist at some point, filling the car with the soft and distorted hums. It allows your mind to wander as you stare out the window. The empty stretches of land around you are filled with greenery, with mountains, cutting right through the perfect blue of the sky above you. 

By 4:00PM, your entire body is starting to feel the ache of having been seated for long hours on end. You feel the tightness in the muscles of your thigh, the bones in your knees. 

Jungkook must be feeling the same, because as soon as a sign for a rest stop comes on, he exits the freeway and pulls into a large parking lot. There’s a restroom on the side, but the area is surrounded by trees with mountains standing in the background. 

Jungkook stops the car. “We should get out for a bit to move our legs.” 

You’re already tugging on the latch that’ll open the car door. “I’m already feeling it in my knees.” You open the door and immediately extend your legs out onto the solid ground beneath you. You let out a sigh of satisfaction, and Jungkook laughs from next to you. 

He’s opening his own car door soon after, but he straightens up into a standing position pretty quickly and stretches upwards. He closes the car door behind him, watching as you eventually pull yourself together to do the same. 

You turn to face Jungkook. “I’m gonna use the restroom.” You gesture towards the building and earn a nod from Jungkook, who mentions something about doing the same thing. You meet back at the car a few minutes later. 

Jungkook gestures to the trees surrounding the parking lot. “Want to take a walk around the area? Keep the blood flowing to our legs.” 

You nod. “That sounds like a good idea.” 

“Why don’t you get started. I’ll catch up.” Jungkook watches you leave, before opening the trunk of his car and rummaging around. 

He does catch up with you, quickly enough that you hardly notice that he had sent you out first. You hear his footsteps, and the call of your name. You turn around. “Jungkook!” 

The sight before you makes you waver slightly, as bouts of shyness overtake you. Standing before you is Jungkook, with his camera in hand. The lens is pointed right at you. As soon as you’re staring straight into the camera, Jungkook grins. “Say hi!” 

You whine, whirling back around and covering your face. “Are you filming me right now?” 

“I’m a photographer at heart, what did you expect?” Jungkook teases back. “Besides, it’s really pretty around here. You think I won’t film it?” 

You snort, starting your walk around the parking lot. “Oh yeah, because there aren’t any parking lots and trees and bathroom stops at home.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “That’s not what I meant.” 

You turn to stare right into the lens of his camera. “Then the mountains, right?” 

He’s quiet for another second. “Sure.” He does, however, sound a little disappointed. You do not notice this. 

The pair of you stay quiet as you make your round around the parking lot, taking in the mountains from different angles. The walk around is mostly just to rid of the sensation of your legs falling off, but it’s still a nice view to admire. As soon as you finish a complete round, you and Jungkook return back to the car. You watch as he carefully places his camera into his camera bag before you’re both back in your seats. 

Jungkook turns to you. “Ready to get going again?” He looks at the control panel behind his steering wheel. “We’ll probably have to stop for gas in a few hours. But after that, it’s straight to the hotel.” 

You settle back into the passenger seat. “I guess we already have our dinner plans then.” You’re referring to the gas station. 

Jungkook grins. “I’m down for that.” 

And so, the trip continues back on the freeway. With the lo-fi playing in the background, you watch as the sun tears through the blue sky, as the sun finally begins it’s dip to the other side. The singular color once spread across the pane of atmosphere now conjugates around the sun crawling behind the mountain—creating a diffusion of new colors. The corner of the mountain emits an explosion of oranges, pinks, and purples. 

You lift your head from the window, eyes taking in the rainbow of pastels around the now fading sun. “Wow, Jungkook, look at that sunset.” 

He snorts. “You wanna talk about things that you can’t see back in the city?” 

You pout. “But it looks so pretty, see!” You keep gesturing towards the sunset. 

Jungkook relents just enough to spare a glance in the direction. He hums. “Yeah, it’s pretty.” He looks back at the road. “Can’t really find a view like that in the city.” 

You spend a little more time admiring the sunset than Jungkook does, for obvious reasons. You’ve seen a sunset plenty of times before in the past, but the context of this whole situation makes you unable to look away from it. You’re really out here, stuck in a car with someone you have never hung out with for longer than a few minutes. But you are enjoying yourself. There's peace in that. 

So you watch until the sun dips below the mountain, momentarily leaving the sky in a navy color. 

The next time Jungkook speaks, the area around you is much darker, and the sky is nearly black. “You hungry now?” 

You lift your head from the seat, not even realizing you were drifting off. You’re thinking about Irene, wondering if you should have texted her directly congratulating her on the wedding rather than just simply sending in the RSVP. “Sure. We eat as the car eats, right?” 

Jungkook smiles, a gesture you can barely make out from the headlines. “Of course.” 

This goes on for a few more miles until the sign for a gas station comes up. A few other cars linger near the dispensers. Jungkook parks near his choice and gets out of the car. You follow behind him. He’s already sliding his credit card into the machine, and the sight makes you reach over to grab his wrist. 

“I should pay, you’ve been driving all day!” 

He shakes his head, waving you off. “We’ll take turns, okay?” He looks at you. “Buy me dinner tonight too, that sound fair?” 

You pout, leaning back as you cross your arms. “Not really, but I guess I’ll have to accept it.” 

He grins. “You are correct.” 

As soon as the gas pump alerts you of the filled tank, Jungkook returns the pump back to the machine and locks his car. Together, the two of you make your way towards the convenience store, where the bell above rings to alert the workers of your presence. Nods are exchanged as you and Jungkook tear through the aisles to find anything that could satisfy your cravings. You return back with family size bags of hot cheetos and beef jerky, while Jungkook holds his selection of roasted seaweed and Doritos. You select your drinks together before returning to the cashier. 

It’s nearing 9:00PM as you and Jungkook return back to his car, where you slide back into your seats and immediately tear into your bags of salt and sodium. 

“How are you doing?” You ask as Jungkook finishes his first bag of roasted seaweed. 

Jungkook pulls out his phone, scrolling through the final stretch needed to reach the hotel. “Yeah, about four more hours to the motel.” He looks over at you. “I’m good. The salt in this seaweed really helps. How are you doing?” 

You nod immediately. “Great. Perfect.” 

He smiles, shifting his console to drive and pulling out of the gas station. “I’m used to these weird hours. Remember how I told you I traveled around a bit with Mingyu and Wonwoo? There was this one day we only slept for an hour or something? It sucked, I think I almost passed out that day. But yeah, this is honestly not even that bad.” He turns to look at you. “I think the good company helps, too.” 

You roll your eyes, grinning. “You flatter me, Jeon.” 

Slowly, 8PM turns into 10PM. One glance at Google maps tells you that you’re still two hours from the hotel. Even though you’re not the one driving, and although you haven’t endured any physical activity that could result in this exhaustion, you still find yourself growing tired. Something about sitting under the sun, sitting in a vehicle that rocks side to side with a consistent hum—it makes your mind work slowly and therefore brings out the sleepiness quicker. 

You settle deeper into your seat. 

Jungkook giggles from next to you. “You tired already?” 

You pout slowly, eyes closed just enough. “I’m not a morning person and you made me wake up at 8!” 

“Sure, sure, of course.” 

There’s a pause. 

You ponder a question for a moment. It’s something that you would never dare ask Jungkook if you had been more awake and more alert. But you’re tired, and your defenses are lowered, and it means you are more prone to asking questions. “Hey, Jungkook? Did you have any girlfriends when we were in college?” 

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. “Where’s this coming from?” He asks instead. 

You shrug, making a dismissive noise as your shoulders rise up. “Curiosity.” 

A pause. “I went on a few dates, but I never had a serious relationship.” 

“No way.” You lift your head up from the seat. “But I remember seeing you hang out with the occasional girl in the quad, or at some restaurants around the school.” 

Jungkook smiles. It’s hard to read the look in his eyes. They’re focused on the road in front of him, but they seem almost hazy and faraway. “Like I said, I went on a few dates. I did really want to get into a long term relationship in college. A lot of my friends had them, that’s where my parents met, so I was really open to the idea of at least experimenting. There were a lot of girls that I thought were nice, easy-going, or just really pretty, so I tried my hand in the whole dating thing.” 

“And it didn’t work out?” You coax out gently. 

“Not really,” He continues. He steals a glance at you. “We’d go on a few dates, but none of them ever felt substantial. I think girls see me and have a certain expectation—an expectation I couldn’t meet. So I never could picture myself in a long term relationship with any of them.” 

You tilt your head towards him. “There must have been someone…” 

“Well… there was one girl.” Jungkook starts after a moment. He’s not looking at you this time. “We had a few classes together earlier—we weren’t in the same major program. I don’t even know if I’d say we were close or anything. We just had a few classes and saw each other around on occasion. But the conversations we did have during class or outside of class just felt more real. Honestly, I could have been totally wrong about her. I could have just been blinded by all these expectations I was putting on her, which is ironic. But she was the only person I could actually see myself being in a long term relationship with. Or at least try.” 

You hum, still facing towards him in your seat. “Why didn’t you try anything then? You’re a good guy, Jungkook. I’m sure she would have wanted to try with you too.” 

“I guess I was just afraid of pushing it and scaring her off. I thought it was better to stay friends with her than try to pursue something. She never gave me an indication that she felt the same.” 

“And how do you feel now?” 

There’s a pause this time. “I don’t know honestly. We remained friends up until graduation but, uh, never saw her again. I do wonder from time to time how she’s doing.” 

“You should reach out to her,” You advise softly. “Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird.” You grin at him. “You need to make your move.” 

It is then that Jungkook turns to look at you. He looks for a little longer this time, eyes focused entirely on you. Underneath the small crescent of the moon above, you are still able to make out his facial features. His cheeks, his nose, his eyes—the latter is glimmering, like he knows something that you don’t. 

“I’m working on that,” He mumbles softly. You turn your head back towards the road. 

. 

You wake up the next morning feeling groggy, dirty, and messy. Your head lifts up from a pillow you can only vaguely remember falling on, laying on top of a bed you only vaguely remember throwing yourself in. There’s sunlight pouring into the room, but it feels like early morning sun. There’s a crisp in the air that you can feel, that you see out of the window. Right outside is the gathering of bushes and trees, a bright blue sky.

You are in the motel. 

Slowly, you push yourself into a sitting position, until you’re resting atop the white linen of your bed. Across the room, snuggled in his own twin bed, is Jungkook. His lashes are fanning across his cheekbones, his lips are parted, and his breathing is slow and soft.

It isn’t until Jungkook shifts in bed that you realize you’ve been watching him like a creep. Hastily, you tear your gaze away and decide to focus your gaze down. You notice immediately that you are not underneath the blankets. Instead, you are lying underneath Jungkook’s jacket. 

You roll the jacket off your frame, discovering that you are still in last night’s clothes—which explains why you were feeling so groggy and discombobulated. You look across the floor of the hotel room. Your suitcase is near the foot of your bed, and your phone sits on your nightstand connected to your charger. 

Vaguely, you recall what had happened the previous night—how Jungkook drove into the hotel room nearing midnight and the exhaustion was so overpowering that you and Jungkook blindly asked for any room with two twin beds before following through and practically collapsing into your respected beds. 

You definitely did that, which explains why you were on top of the bed, why you’re still in yesterday’s clothes, and why Jungkook’s jacket was your blanket. Stealing another glance at Jungkook: underneath the blankets and in a different t-shirt—you can assume that he was able to take a shower before lying down. 

With a sigh, you push off Jungkook’s jacket and lay it down on the bed next to you. Hoping not to disturb Jungkook, you slide out of bed and lower your suitcase to the ground. After fishing out a new set of clothes, you decide to take a shower. 

The warmth from the shower is the best breath of fresh air you’ve gotten since hitting the road with Jungkook. It feels like your body is going through a battery recharge, and it’s one you take your time with. You step out of the shower, running the towel through your hair and drying yourself enough to slip on your outfit for the day. The towel is thrown around your neck as you step out of the shower, letting the steam follow you out of the bathroom. 

Jungkook is still sleeping as you step out, which is good otherwise you’d feel bad for having disturbed his sleep time. After all the driving he did yesterday, you figure he deserves a few extra hours regardless of what the schedule calls for. 

You continue running the towel through your hair as you pick up your phone. Strangely, you do not remember connecting it to a charger before knocking out, but you pick it up regardless to see the 9:00AM time across your screen. 

There’s a quiet that takes over, in which you’re sitting perched comfortably on your bed and scrolling through your phone as Jungkook continues to drift a few feet away from you. 

About thirty minutes seem to pass before Jungkook is moaning softly to himself, letting out a puff of air as he slowly opens his eyes. His arms extend above him, knocking into the headboard and making him curse softly to himself. His eyes open as he lowers his hands to inspect the damage before immediately looking over towards you. 

He blinks, a tired smile overtaking his lips as he arches his back into a stretch. “Hey,” He greets, voice rough and scratchy and making your heart clench. Damn thing. “You’re awake. You knocked out pretty quickly as soon as we got the room.” 

You laugh. “Yeah, I honestly figured that.” You pick up his jacket, as if he hadn’t been the one to lay it on you those hours ago. “Thanks for trying to help me get comfortable.” You gesture towards the nightstand. “Did you find my charger too?” 

Jungkook sits up as he continues a small round of stretches and yawns. “I did,” He says. “You were barely coherent, but made enough sense to tell me where it was in your bag. Sorry for going through it, by the way.” 

You shake your head, waving him off. “No worries. Thank you again, Jungkook.” 

The pair of you stare at each other for a few moments, before that silence is broken by Jungkook’s phone going off. You look down as Jungkook snatches his own phone off the nightstand. He scrolls through something, before placing it back. 

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You ask, bringing your fingers through your hair to comb and give you a distraction. 

“Oh! Right.” Jungkook swings his legs off the side of the bed. “We have a slower day today. The hotel I picked is only about five hours away? We’re driving through the mountains today, so there’s this place I want to visit that has a little restaurant and everything. It’ll be a cute pit stop.” 

You nod. “Awesome, okay.” You curl your fingers around the strands of now loose strands of hair. 

It takes another hour until you and Jungkook are packed up again and ready to leave. A quick stop to the lobby provides both of you with a bagel and cup of coffee each as your breakfast. All before you’re once again sliding into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. 

You roll your shoulders before clicking your seatbelt in. “Ready for another long day?” 

“Of course.” He digs through his center console, producing his aux cord. “Your mission,” He says dramatically, not unlike yesterday. “Should you choose to accept.” 

You laugh gently, taking the cord. “You in love with Mission Impossible or something? This is the second time in two days you’re quoting it to me.” 

And this is how your day starts off—talks of Mission Impossible films that bleed into conversations about movies. 

The day at 10 o’clock in the morning is bright and blue as Jungkook drives back onto the freeway and continues down the road. The first few hours consist of the surrounding flatland, of green grass and high mountains all around. Conversations between you and Jungkook are a little more scattered today, but there’s a new level of comfort about the situation. With both of you well rested, it invites a more relaxed atmosphere as you pass the occasional joke or story time between the pair of you. 

As the sun continues to travel higher in the sky, Jungkook’s car starts it’s approach up the mountain. The trees start enveloping the pair of you into a newer, higher world. Not only that, but whenever you and Jungkook reach a clearing, it exposes a dip of lakes, grass, and mountains. And you, always having enjoyed the views of nature, keep an open eye for every single thing. 

You see Jungkook’s choice of destination before he does, and you gasp excitedly. 

Up ahead is a cloud of pink, white, and red flowers covering an entire mountain side. There is an occasional pop of cedar trees amongst the covering of pink, white, and red, but the colors are so poignant that it captures your attention immediately. 

You point to it. “Is that where we’re going?” 

Jungkook grins. “Surprise!” He’s selected this spot before offering the invitation to let you come along, but you’re not complaining. You’ve never been to a flower farm before, despite having heard about them and seen pictures of them for most of your childhood. You continue to watch with wide eyes and bright smiles as Jungkook drives closer and closer to the destination, finally parking in the appropriate lot after paying the fee. 

You’re practically vibrating in your seat with excitement. “Jungkook, Jungkook, c’mon let’s go, let’s go!” You push on the latch and nearly tumble out onto the ground. You straighten to stand on your feet, before meeting Jungkook near the trunk of his car. Surprise, surprise, he pulls out his camera and loops the strap over his head. 

He’s grinning as he closes the trunk. “You’re a little excited, aren’t you?” 

“A little?” You echo, clapping your hands, seemingly unable to wipe the grin off your face. “Jungkook, this is a flower farm! It’s so exciting!” 

So you dart off with Jungkook following closely behind you. The parking lot is located at the top of the flower farm, so the tour around the fields is a downwards one towards the bottom. A small pathway maps out a route for you to follow as you take in the various lines of flowers and colors. One short glimpse at the brochure tells you that these are spring flowers, and that you and Jungkook are visiting during the perfect season. You and Jungkook continue through your makeshift tour in silence, taking in the flowers as well as the view that extends out far beyond your line of sight while Jungkook snaps photographs behind you. Words don’t need to be said when everything around you says it all. 

At the bottom of the field is a cafe, a small brick building with an outdoor seating area facing the now upward flower display. You and Jungkook order sandwiches and soda, and take your seats outside as you wait for your number to be called. There are a fair amount of people today at the field, most of which you can see ahead roaming through the flowers ahead. 

“Have you ever been to a flower farm before?” Jungkook asks, as he glances over at you to see how bright your expression is. 

You smile as you turn to him. “No, never. But thank you for bringing me here, it’s beautiful here.” 

Jungkook smiles, looking a little smug. He looks proud of himself. “I’ve always wanted to come here, so I’m glad I was able to bring you along.” It looks like he wants to say more, but the number that rests between Jungkook’s fingers is called out, interrupting the conversation. He returns a moment later with the food. “I actually wanted to ask you something,” He says, taking the sandwich plate off the tray and placing it in front of you. 

You take the napkins that are being offered to you. “What’s up?” 

He settles down into his seat. “I didn’t get to return the question that you asked me last night.” 

It takes you a second to realize what he’s referring to. Immediately, you feel yourself turn red as you press your lips together. You were definitely drowsy last night, and hadn’t put too much consideration in the aftermath of asking Jungkook about his college relationships. You instead try for a laugh, as you wave him off. “Well, you don’t need to ask me. It’s pretty boring.” 

“Nonsense,” Jungkook brushes off, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So tell me, did you get into any relationships in college?” 

You laugh, albeit a little nervously. “No, not really. I never even went on any dates before—I guess, like you, I just couldn’t see myself in any long term relationship with anyone that seemed to like me.” 

“Well, how about crushes on your end? Did you like anyone?” 

You gaze over at Jungkook—taking in his wide curious eyes, his soft voice, his contagious laugh. The memories of him waving at you in class, of him catching up to you afterwards to continue previous conversations, of him going out of his way to say hi to you in the library. Jungkook has always been thoughtful, considerate, and soft along the edges. How could you not have crushed on him during college? 

And how could you not continue to have these lingering feelings for him afterwards? 

You think about your own advice you had given to Jungkook. You should reach out to her. Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird. You need to make your move. Could you even follow your own advice? 

You look down before Jungkook could start asking questions about your staring. “There was this one guy,” You start, trying for an uneasy laugh. “But I don’t think he ever noticed me. Well, that’s a lie. I guess we were kind of friends? I think it’s more along the lines of me being out of his league.” 

“That’s depressing,” Jungkook notes as he finishes his sandwich. You hardly even noticed him inhaling the thing. “How could you be out of a guy’s league? You’re so smart and funny and easy to talk to—if anything, a guy would probably be out of your league.” He leans forward, bringing you close enough where you can clearly make out the mole underneath his lip. “Tell me about this punk. So I can tell you he’s not good enough for you.” 

You laugh, keeping your gaze on him. You doubt he’d be so confident had he known about ‘this punk’. “He isn’t a punk,” You remark quietly. “He’s really nice, and really sweet. I was pretty quiet in college. Definitely introverted and kept to myself and had a hard time making friends. Although I would have honestly barely considered him a friend, he just made me feel like my time was meaningful and my attention was valuable to him.” Jungkook’s eyes continue to bore into yours. “If anything, I just wish he knew how much I admire him.” 

Jungkook’s gaze is unwavering across your face, once again displaying that unreadable expression. Yet, despite that, something glimmers in his eyes and he seems to come to an understanding you yourself don’t know about. That glimmer keeps swimming across the orbs, even as he switches his gaze between your eyes. They flicker down to your lips for a second, and your heart stutters in your chest. 

Jungkook coughs, pulling away from you as he seems to hyper-focus his attention on the soda still in front of him. He looks shy as he steals another glance at you from across the table. “He might not have made you feel that important if you were too scared to tell him how you felt.” 

You look down at your sandwich and take another bite. Something about the way he’s staring holes into the side of your face tells you that he knows something that you don’t. You wonder what he’s thinking. 

Jungkook wears that thoughtful expression for the rest of the visit to the flower field, as the pair of you return back to his car and slide back in your seats. He stays quiet as you resume the trip, slowly making your way back onto the freeway and towards your second motel. 

This kind of quiet is different than the previous silences the pair of you have grown to share over the past twenty-four hours. Unlike the comfortable moments of unspoken words, this is more tense. Like he knows something that you don’t. 

You don’t know what to say, or how to break that silence. You don’t know if perhaps you said something you shouldn’t have, or said something to make him uncomfortable. All of those thoughts are not pleasant ones. 

Jungkook stays quiet for most of the drive through the mountain. The music you have selected is loud enough that seems to drown the tense atmosphere, but the questions still press themselves deeply into your mind. What is he thinking about? 

And worse of all: did he know you were talking about him? 

You and Jungkook only speak a handful of times during the trip. He asks you if you need to use the restroom, if you’re hungry, and if you could play him your favorite anime openings. The pair of you have a handful of laughs about your mutual love for Haikyuu and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but most of the drive to the motel is ridden out in silence. 

The pair of you reach the hotel around dinnertime, definitely nowhere as exhausted as you had been the previous night, but just as eager to finally reach your destination. The tension between you and Jungkook has eased slightly, so you can only assume that perhaps he has overcome whatever was bothering him. You yourself have pushed the thought of Jungkook knowing the truth out of your mind. After all, if he had known, you assume he would have brought it up. Or at least called for an Uber to send you home. You assume you would have provided some sort of reaction for the two of you to talk about. But alas, those thoughts follow a conversation that has not happened, and will probably never happen, because you’re sure that you’ll never have to be in a situation that forces your feelings to go out of control once again—! 

“Hi,” Jungkook returns to the hotel clerk behind the desk, a girl to be about your age, who is flickering her gaze between you and Jungkook. A flicker in her eyes tells you that she already has multiple thoughts and assumptions about your relationship. “Do you have a room with two beds?” 

“Oh!” The girl blinks, momentarily looking taken aback. “Of course, let me check.” She turns her attention to the computer screen in front of her. Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m sorry sir, we only have rooms with one bed available—either a full, queen, or king-size mattress.” 

Jungkook makes a noise in the back of his throat as he taps his credit card on the desk. Just watching from the side, you notice how he swallows, how he looks down, how his cheeks turn red. He turns to you after a moment. “D-Do you, uh, do you mind?” 

It takes you a second to realize what Jungkook is asking. He’s asking if you’d be okay with sharing a bed with him. Him: your college crush, the guy you never really lost feelings for. 

You turn red too. “U-Um…” You press your lips together and swallow. “S-Sure,” You manage, waving your hands out in front of you. “I-I don’t mind. I-If you don’t mind, of course.” 

“I-I don’t mind either.” Jungkook, however, looks like he’s about to combust. He looks a little lost again. He blinks once, twice, and seems to realize that he’s supposed to hand the woman behind the desk his card. “Uh, whichever room is the cheapest.” 

“That’ll be the room with the full-size bed.” She flickers her gaze between the two of you. “If that’s okay.” 

“O-Of course,” He stammers back, allowing the girl to take the card. He looks at you. “Do you mind staying here? I have to go to the bathroom real quick.” 

“S-Sure, go ahead.” A part of you wants to hit your head on the desk. What is happening to you? Why is the mere thought of sharing a bed with Jungkook turning you into a pile of mush? You’re a grown ass woman—! 

“So the two of you on vacation or something?” The woman behind the desk asks. She’s still in the middle of scanning Jungkook’s credit card. 

You try for a smile. “Kind of, we’re going to a friend’s wedding.” 

“I see, that sounds fun.” She smiles. “You know, I have to be honest, I was a little surprised he asked for two beds. You guys would make a cute couple.” 

At the label, you start to turn red. “O-Oh n-no, we’re not a couple at all. That’s very flattering, b-but yeah we’re not together.” 

“Oh, I know,” The girl rebuffs. Her smile looks more like a grin. She places Jungkook’s credit card on the desk, along with a receipt and a pen. “I hope the full size bed will change that.” She gives you a wink. 

You part your lips, unsure what to make of the situation. “What—!” 

“I’m back,” Jungkook says, sliding up from behind you and making you jump slightly. “What did I miss?” 

“Uh…” You wonder if your face is too red or not. It certainly feels that way. “Here!” You push him forward towards the desk. “She scanned your credit card. You just need to sign and we’ll be on our way.” 

If Jungkook notices the stiffness in your posture, he doesn’t comment as he leans forward to sign the receipt. Just over Jungkook’s shoulder is the worker, looking at you with a now shit-eating grin across her lips. Several questions ping through your mind, but you don’t get to ask any of those because Jungkook is turning around with his credit card in hand. 

“Uh, ready to get going?” 

“Sure!” You say, voice a few several pitches higher and you return to wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Jungkook leads the way out of the lobby, and you dare one last glance back towards the woman behind the counter. 

She’s waving a slip of paper in her hand. 

You turn back to Jungkook. “Hey Jungkook, give me a second. I think we forgot to grab something at the desk.” 

It sort of feels like a walk of shame to reach the worker behind the counter, who is still grinning at the sight of you and your internal struggles. She hands you the slip of paper, mouths something that makes you go red, before you’re turning back towards Jungkook. “Good luck,” She had whispered. 

Before you’re reaching Jungkook, you open the paper. At the very top is the WiFi password. 

Underneath the WiFi password, in what you can only assume is her handwriting, is one sentence. Fate said you guys only get one bed- don’t worry, I think he likes you too :-) 

“What was that about?” Jungkook asks. 

You shove the paper into your pocket. “The WiFi password,” You supply. 

The walk to the hotel room is quiet as Jungkook leads the way through the different hallways, corridors, and numbers on plaques. That tense silence is back as he guides the two of you, stopping only when he reaches the number that matches the one on the index card. He gives you a look, and inserts the card key into the slot. The door beeps, and he pushes open the door to find, true to the word of the lady behind the counter, one full-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

For the first few hours, it’s easy to ignore that full-sized elephant in the room. Jungkook takes out his laptop and you guys watch your favorite season of Haikyuu together—it’s season two—or you guys linger about on your phones. It isn’t until nighttime falls into your bones, into your minds, that you realize that you really need to address the new situation. 

“I’m gonna take a shower first, if that’s okay,” You say, already sliding off the bed to gather your belongings from your suitcase. Jungkook is humming along to the Haikyuu ending song, but he stops long enough to accept you taking the first shower. He watches you as you fish pajamas out from your suitcase. “Hey, Jungkook…” You start. “Are you sure you’re cool with this?” You gesture to the bed. “I can sleep on the floor. They give you extra bedding for a reason…” 

“What? No, of course not, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” He moves until his knees are pressed into the mattress. “And I’m cool with this. Promise.” He hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Y-Yeah,” You manage, straightening into a standing position with your clothes in hand. “I don’t really move around when I’m sleeping. And I trust you, Jungkook.” You keep your gaze on each other until you break it first, turning around to step into the bathroom. 

You step out many minutes later, hair freshly washed and feeling much more relaxed than before. Jungkook has moved to the desk in the corner of the hotel room, typing away at some emails on his laptops. He does, however, whirl around upon hearing you exit the bathroom. The sight of you in your sweats, t-shirt, and damp hair makes his eyes linger. 

You merely tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can go now,” You say quietly. 

Jungkook nods. “Thanks.” 

Breaking that eye contact again, you turn to the bed and lift the blankets to slide under the covers. You rest your head on the pillow, and immediately start to drift away. 

You are brought back after what only feels like a few minutes, when you hear a light switch turn off followed by the blanket next to you lifting up. You turn slightly towards the other side of the bed. “Jungkook?” You whisper. 

A stillness. “Ah shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to be sneaky.” 

“Mmm…” You mumble softly, turning your body 180 degrees in order to face him. You can vaguely make out the shadow of Jungkook’s outline. “Don’t worry. I’m a really light sleeper. Come on in.” 

There is a shift in the blankets until you feel the additional weight of Jungkook’s figure crawling in next to you. The knowledge that Jungkook is lying right next to you turns your blood hot both with anxiety and because Jungkook brings in a new wave of heat underneath the covers. For a cool spring night, it’s comforting. But also further anxiety-inducing. 

Jungkook shifts and even though the pair of you are on opposite sides of the bed, you can still feel the warmth radiating off his body. In the silence of the hotel room, you can hear Jungkook breathing. 

“Is this okay?” It’s Jungkook asking. His voice is quiet, soothing, and very close to your face. You realize that you guys are facing each other. 

Still, you have to give an answer. “Y-Yeah,” You reply softly. “Goodnight, Jungkook.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You turn onto your back. You try to go to sleep, you really do. But your heart is pounding, and rather than the blood filling your ears, it’s the sound of Jungkook’s breathing. 

“Y/N, you still awake?” Jungkook asks softly. 

You snort. “It’s only been a minute.” 

Jungkook smiles. “Sorry. I just… I have a question. A thought, actually.” 

“What is it?” 

“Well, okay, I don’t want to come off as arrogant or self-centered, but it’s just a question and just this thought that I have…” 

“Jungkook.” You turn back to face him. “You can ask me the question. I don’t mind.” 

“Well, alright.” Jungkook shifts. He’s a little closer now, you can make out the outline of his face. Everything looks slightly more defined now, definitely a result of your eyes adjusting to the darkness. “When you were talking about the guy you had a crush on… you know, when I asked if there was someone you were interested in while we were in college.” 

“Oh, I remember.” Your heart feels fuzzy, even though you have no idea what he’s going to ask you. 

“Okay, um. I guess I just wanted to know. Were you talking about me? 

The world seems to stop tilting on its axis—and all the consequences of that follow along. Everything around you slows to a grind: your heart stops in your chest, and all the air drains out of your lungs. You hold your breath, feeling as if your body has just been dipped underwater. Thousands of thoughts ping through your mind. You feel like that episode of Spongebob where all the file cabinets in your brain are catching aflame. You suddenly feel like you have no thoughts, but too many thoughts at the same time. 

Above all, one question rises above all the rest: how did Jungkook know? 

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called. It isn’t until you feel a hand at your shoulder do you jolt. “H-Huh?” 

“S-Sorry.” Jungkook sounds a lot more nervous now. “You weren’t responding.” 

“I… I was thinking,” You reply lamely. 

A pause. “What’s your answer?” Were you talking about me?

You swallow. Should you tell the truth? Or should you deny everything with the hopes that Jungkook will forget this conversation ever existed? 

The words spill out before you can think of a proper answer. “What if I was?” 

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “Well…” He starts up again, inching forward towards you. Every move he makes is amplified in your ear, every squeak of the mattress and every rustle of clothing echoed in the small space that is your hotel room. “I’d be kinda frustrated, to be honest. Because when I was talking about my own crush, it might have been about you.” 

At Jungkook’s confession, the world seems to come crashing down on you as everything around tries to catch up to you. Immediately, you assume that perhaps you hadn’t heard Jungkook correctly, or maybe you’re completely misinterpreting what he’s trying to say to you. 

In a perfect world, maybe you’d say something witty and smart. Maybe you’d play along until he snapped. Maybe you’d be fluent in courting talk and understand exactly what he’s trying to say to you. 

But this isn’t a perfect world, and you are neither witty nor smart. You most certainly are not aware of flirtations. You need boys to be as straightforward as possible. Which is why you utter the most comprehensible: “What?” 

You feel a warmth at your hip—Jungkook’s hand against your skin. “Ahhhh.” Jungkook starts, not at all sounding fearful but rather casual. Still the underlying case of shyness, however, because this is still Jungkook. “I forgot you sometimes need simple things spelled out for you. Remember when you emailed our Arts History professor three times because you kept forgetting what font she wanted the assignment in?” 

You flush—Arts History was the class you and Jungkook were forced to pair up together for. Maybe you would have protested it more had you known Jungkook would turn out to be a little shit over it. “That was a one time thing! You’ve been bringing it up for as long as I’ve known you!” 

Jungkook giggles, pulling you closer so your face is against his collarbone and his chin rests on your shoulder. “Shh, okay, okay, I’m sorry.” 

Your face is burning at the feeling of your bodies so close together, your fingers pressed against his shirt and your nose against his skin. He smells like floral fabric softener. “Jungkook…?” You whisper softly, breath fanning his neck. 

Jungkook tilts his head to rest gently against your temple. He stays quiet for a moment, absorbing the moment. “If you did have a crush on me in college, it would be frustrating. Because I had a crush on you too.” 

This time it’s straightforward, just like how you’ve always wanted it. Why can’t you seem to reply? 

“Oh.” 

“I know.” 

You curl your fingers around Jungkook’s shirt. “What if…” You start slowly. “What if I said I still had those feelings?” 

Jungkook seems to think about his answer. “I’d say that I do too.” 

You swallow, nodding in a way that allows him to feel the movement. “Okay then.” 

Without a warning, Jungkook moves to curl his whole arm around your frame. This brings you even closer together. He noses your hairline. “Go to sleep,” He whispers softly. “We can talk about this tomorrow.” 

A part of you wants to say no—that holding off on confessions isn’t what happens in novels or tv shows or movies. But the larger part of you knows that you won’t be able to have a proper discussion like this when you are weak, tired, and vulnerable. Your heart stalls at his consideration, allowing yourself to be content just like this: asleep, cuddling with Jeon Jungkook as you’ve imagined since you first developed your crush. 

It’s much better than the fantasy. 

.

You wake up the next morning with Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, his soft breathing against your neck and his lips dusting the skin of your neck. There’s a new kind of comfort you find being held like this, and a part of you wants to melt back into his arms. You think you can pretend to be asleep just to stay here a little longer, but the urgency you have to pee and get the day started becomes too pressing. 

Your previous assumptions of Jungkook being a heavy sleeper are confirmed as you manage to untangle yourself from him without so much as a whine from his end. By the time you finish with the bathroom, Jungkook is just beginning to push himself into a sitting position. 

You linger near the foot of the bed. “Good morning,” You greet, almost nervously. For good reason to—the memory of last night is vague but defined well enough where you aren’t sure what the next course of action should be. It’s not like your college ever offered a course about what to do when your crush admits to liking you back. 

Jungkook looks at you from across the bed. He gives you a small smile, a reassuring one. “Morning,” He says back. “How did you sleep last night?” 

You twist your hands together. “Pretty good, actually. How about you?” 

“Me too.” He adjusts his position so he can crawl over to you. He slides his legs over the side of the bed right next to you. He brings his hands towards you, palms up. Although he’s close enough to reach you, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks: “Can I?” 

You don’t say anything, you merely rest your hand in his. He tugs you towards him, stopping only when you’re standing between his legs. He still keeps his fingers curled around yours, turning your hand up to play with your fingers. 

He looks up at you, a soft smile across his lips. “Hi.” 

You smile back. “Hi.” 

He laces your fingers together, resting them between your bodies. “I guess now for the bigger question… how are you feeling?” 

You look down at your hands, deciding you like the way his larger hands cover yours. “H-How did you know I was talking about you?” You ask instead, looking over at him. 

Jungkook shifts his gaze away for a moment. “I don’t know,” He admits earnestly. “You were just looking at me back at the flower field and I had a feeling. And I really think a part of me was hoping you were talking about me.” 

Unable to help yourself, you feel the side of your mouth quirk up into a small smile. “What would you have done if I wasn’t talking about you?” 

He exhales in a laugh. “Honestly, I might have just driven out in the middle of the night and gone over a bridge or something.” 

You laugh, trying to diffuse your smile by pressing your lips but it only works so well. “I was really surprised to hear you liked me back.” 

“Of course!” He exclaims, looking momentarily shocked that you would feel this way. “I wasn’t messing around when I said you were smart, funny, and easy to talk to. That’s what made me really like you when we first met. Whenever we talked you just felt so real and approachable—like I could just be myself around you. And even now, seeing you after graduating and realizing you’re still all of those things. It just makes me like you more.” 

You feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You’ve never thought of yourself in the way Jungkook is describing you—you always just assumed that you were in the background, that you’d never be enough. 

Jungkook is looking at you, his eyes big and wide and full of truth. “Is that weird?” He asks. 

You shake your head immediately. “No, no it’s not weird at all.” You shrug a shoulder, giving him a meek smile. “It’s really sweet, actually.” 

Jungkook grins at that, heaving out a breath as a sign of his lowered defenses. “I think you’re sweet too.” 

You groan at that, throwing your head back as Jungkook breaks into a series of giggles. “You’re corny.” 

“You’re not complaining,” He points out. This is true. 

You shrug. “I guess that means I’m expecting us to catch up on three years of terrible flirting.” 

The smile slides off his face. “You’re right.” He brings your joined hands closer together until your whole body is standing closer to his. “Can I ask to kiss you?” 

The four letter K word makes your heart stutter in your chest once more. Your hands are so close to his chest that you can feel his own heart beating, and the thought of Jungkook being equally nervous for this gives you enough confidence to return his question. “Why don’t you ask and find out?” 

He smiles, a bunny smile that crinkles his eyes. “Touche. Can I kiss you?” 

You smile back. “Yes…” You whisper, leaning down just enough for Jungkook to crane his neck up in order to meet each other halfway. It’s just a closed-mouth kiss, a soft weight against your lips.

It’s one that Jungkook pulls away from before you can really enjoy it, really ponder asking for more. “Sorry,” He says immediately, pointing to his mouth. “Morning breath.” 

The pair of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. That tense atmosphere is gone, replaced inside with that previously casual and comfortable air—as you step away from Jungkook and let him get his morning started. Except this time, the air is filled with open lingering stares, shy smiles, and Jungkook taking your suitcase wordlessly as you exit your hotel room. 

By the time you load into your car, it’s nearing noon and the gas tank in Jungkook’s car is almost empty. The pair of you agree in another champion’s breakfast—gas station food. 

“I swear, we’re both going to have terrible breakout tomorrow during the wedding,” You point out. Despite your words, you still tear into your Nacho Cheese Doritos with the aggression of a gorilla. “I’m going to photograph horribly. Irene will be so embarrassed.” 

“You photograph horribly? Inconceivable!” He says the word just as it is said in The Princess Bride, which makes you burst into another fit of laughter. 

The afternoon pans out the same way it has for the past two days. Jungkook drives onto the freeway, you decide the music, and the conversations fade in and out. Neither of you talk about the events of the previous night or of what happened in the morning—but the way Jungkook reaches out to laces your fingers together is more than enough. 

The town Jungkook has selected to stop for the evening is a five hour drive from the wedding venue—and it’s an actual city space this time, with restaurants and grocery stores and apartments. As soon as Jungkook tells you this information, you are bursting with excitement. It’s been two days since the pair of you actually stopped and lingered in a city environment and you miss it. 

It takes another whole day of driving to reach the city destination, as the first alert you get is the increasing number of cars that have joined you on the freeway. These more busy freeways guide you into the city, where you are greeted with the first sight of buildings, sidewalks, restaurants, and parking lots in days. 

Even though most of these landmarks are simple flashes that you and Jungkook pass through on the way to the hotel he has selected, you keep your eyes glued out of the window in order to take in as much of the surrounding area as you can. You continue to watch as the immediate high rises become more sporadic and spread out, until he’s finally pulling into the hotel. The sun is just setting behind the many buildings along the horizon. Lots of other cars are parked in the parking lot. You can hear other cars, buses, and trunks driving around the background—and you feel strangely comforted by this discovery. 

“Are you okay with sharing another bed today?” Jungkook asks as he guides the pair of you into the lobby. “I may or may not have called to make a reservation earlier when you were in the bathroom.” 

You laugh, feeling giddy at the thought of Jungkook taking the initiative to continue progressing your now slow-growing relationship. “Was that all they had left?” You ask teasingly as you make your way to the counter. 

Jungkook smiles down at you. “Perhaps I didn’t ask…” 

Your lips part. “Jungkook!” 

“What?” He’s laughing now. “I think I’m gonna bow out of any excuse to cuddle with you now that you’ve given me a taste of what that’s like?” 

You’re gasping in the midst of your laughter. “You’re terrible,” You manage. 

So Jungkook checks in—true to his word, he has reserved a single full-sized bed for the room. 

“Hey, so, I was thinking,” He starts as he’s following the map provided to him by the employee with directions about getting to his appropriate room. This hotel is slightly bigger than the off-the-road ones you and Jungkook pulled into, so it takes a little longer to find the room. After a few minutes of turning the map over, you two eventually find the room. 

“What’s up?” You ask as you push open the door and roll your suitcase into the space, with Jungkook following closely behind you. 

“Come here,” Jungkook requests gently, watching as you let go of your suitcase and make your way towards him. You move into his space easily, allowing him to hold you by the waist. “Since we’ve both admitted to missing out on three years of courting, flirting, and dating—I think we should go out to an actual restaurant to have an actual date.” 

You lean back slightly and give him a slightly shocked look. “Really?” 

“Yes!” He says. “Besides, someone has to put their foot down and say that eating only McDonalds and gas station hot dogs is not the right way to go.”

You laugh at that. “True, but we were having so much fun!” 

“Nope!” He exclaims, shaking his head. “The foot is going down, we’re going to an actual restaurant for dinner. Get changed, take a shower, whatever you need to do to freshen up.” There’s a finality in his words as he finally steps away from you, the smile of sweetness still on his lips. 

The restaurant Jungkook picks after scrolling through Yelp and other lists of recommendations is a corner Italian place that apparently serves the best Linguini and clams—a dish that you really enjoy. So you put something together much more presentable than your usual round of sweatpants and baggy t-shirts—replacing the sweatpants with black jeans and giving yourself a cream colored cropped sweater. It makes Jungkook’s eyes widen all the same. He’s clad in his usual black jeans and oversized coat that is perfect for the spring breeze. 

Since the restaurant is within walking distance of the hotel, you and Jungkook agree to chill off on the driving just enough to stretch your legs and actually have a walk for once—all while celebrating the final night of the road trip. 

“I was a little worried about this at first, to be honest with you,” You admit softly to Jungkook, long after the pair of you have been seated in a corner booth and have ordered your food. You’re circling the pasta noodles around your fork, and Jungkook is watching with a touch of amusement and adoration in his eyes. 

“Not gonna lie, so was I,” Jungkook returns back with an equally meek smile. 

You gape at him. “You invited me though!” 

“I did!” Jungkook exclaims with a laugh, looking down at his own order of food. “Me inviting you was honestly a spur of the moment thing. Me catching up to you, however, was me trying to be brave.” 

“You seemed pretty brave throughout most the trip,” You point out 

Jungkook shakes his head, situating his arms in a cross motion. “Nah dude that was just all a very well thought out facade. A part of me was expecting it to go terribly so I could at least walk away knowing that I built you up in my mind and the fantasy of that was better than the reality.” He must see the look of uncertainty casting a shadow over your mind because he immediately cuts back in. “Just so you know, the reality is much better than anything I could have conjured up.” 

You lower your chin slightly, staring over at Jungkook. You bring one shoulder up into a half-hearted shrug, maybe to showcase a certain level of carelessness. “What were you conjuring up then?” 

“Oh, I don’t know if you want to go there right now,” He rebuffs, looking a little red in the cheeks. “I think we should start slow. Refer to the PG thoughts, if you will.” 

You laugh, focusing your gaze momentarily on the last of your pasta. You had sorted through the clams, since they weren’t your favorite things to eat. “Jungkook, are you admitting to me that you have thoughts above PG?” 

“Oh shit, that wasn’t my intention!” 

You giggle. “I’m messing with you, Jungkook!” 

He pouts. “Don’t do that.” He rests his hand on the table, palm up, inviting for you to take it. “I just want to spend today with you, and take it slow—I just want to hold your hand and kiss you and lay with you and just be with you in the way I couldn’t be with you in college. Is that too weird?” 

You look down, pressing your lips together, trying not to squeal and definitely not trying to throw yourself off the chair. You look back over at him and squeeze his hand. “That’s not too weird at all. That’s actually really sweet. Honestly, those are things I probably would have asked for regardless. I don’t really know the rules of dating—I never really went out that often.” 

Jungkook smiles sweetly back at you, he brings your hands up to kiss the back. “I’ll give you a few pointers then, let’s get going.” 

After the check is paid for—it ends up being a split between the two, it’s the best compromise you can come up with considering he wants to take you out but you want to pay him back for driving this far—the pair of you emerge back into the city space. Jungkook’s hand is still wrapped around yours, using that connection point to pull you close to him. 

“Now this move,” Jungkook explains, beginning to lead you both back to your hotel room. “Is when the gentleman walks the lady home, because their date went by smoothly and he wants to see her for as long as possible.” 

You laugh. “I’m enjoying this so far.” 

The pair of you continue down the sidewalk, using the time it’ll take to walk back to the hotel to walk off the food in your stomach. You resume your conversation, giggling and laughing all the same until you’re walking through the lobby of the hotel and slowly making your way to your hotel room. 

Right before you step inside, Jungkook stops you. “Normally, the front door is where the gentleman drops the lady off, and they talk about how well the date went.” 

“Oh, well, in that case, this was so nice, Jungkook,” You remark, beaming at Jungkook’s own smile. “I’m glad you convinced me to eat real food for once.” 

“You’re welcome—I had fun too.” Jungkook slides closer to you. You, completely hypnotized by his next movements, watch as he cups your face with his hand to angle you upwards. “This is the part where we have a first kiss, because the stars are lined up for this. And because I really want to.” 

You smile, curling one of your hands around the wrist near your face. “Seeing as we’ve already had our first kiss, how about a second one?” 

Jungkook smiles back, eyes lidded towards your mouth. “I guess that’ll work.” His lesson on dating, it seems, is done, as he leans in to kiss you. You suck in a breath as he covers your lips with his. It’s deeper than the first time he kissed you—which had been more of a peck with a side of morning breath. But now you’re both awake, tasting like wine, and drunk off each other. It’s a more real kiss. 

You whimper as Jungkook’s tongue runs over your bottom lip, before slipping into your mouth. It’s a sensation you can get completely lost in, until Jungkook pulls away. 

Under the hallway light, you can make out his flushed cheeks, his wet lips, his dark gaze. 

Immediately, Jungkook is pulling you to his side before he starts digging through the pockets of his jeans. “Alright, we’re going inside right now.” 

You lean into his shoulder. “I thought I was supposed to invite you inside, Jeon? What happened to giving me pointers on first dates?” 

“Screw that,” He retorts, practically shoving the hotel door open. He turns around to face you. “Now, this is our hotel room. And I want to kiss you in private.” 

Your laughter is drowned out as Jungkook tugs you by the wrist into the room. 

.

Under different circumstances, waking up next to each other after a first date would hit you with a wave of anxiety and maybe even a vague sense of embarrassment at letting someone you like see you in such a vulnerable position. 

Right now, however, under the morning sunlight within the covers of your shared hotel bed, you just feel happy and content. You wake up on your side, with an arm resting over Jungkook’s chest and his fingers curling around your own. There is an immediate feeling of giddiness that overtakes you, because it’s hard for you to believe that this is happening. Someone you’ve liked and continue to like actually returning your feelings? That has always been such a foreign concept to you. 

You don’t know how long you continue laying in bed until Jungkook starts shifting next to you, signalling his wake. You watch as his eyes slowly peel open, laced with grogginess but still looking unfairly attractive that there are butterflies in your stomach. 

Jungkook lets out a sigh, as he looks down at you. A tired smile takes over his expression. “Morning.” 

“Good morning,” You reply back, voice soft and a little shy. “Happy wedding day.” 

That is true. Today is Irene’s wedding—an event you and Jungkook will arrive at in nearly five hours. There’s a strange sort of knot that is beginning to twist itself in your stomach, a knowledge that something good is coming to a close but a fear in the unknown as to what this would mean regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Neither of you have laid down groundwork for your relationship—if this even is a relationship to begin with. You may be inexperienced with this kind of stuff, but you’re sure that one date and making out on a hotel bed doesn’t immediately constitute an exclusive relationship. 

If Jungkook notices the tension in your form, he doesn’t say anything. He kisses your temple and grumbles something about wanting to get the day started. He mentions something about not having to worry about getting dressed for the wedding straightaway—that he has reserved a room at the hotel some of the guests of the wedding would be staying at, which is where you will be getting ready before the event. You nod, hearing pieces of his words, but a lot of it gets lost in your own thoughts. 

Is it okay to ask questions about where you stand with Jungkook? Is it foolish of you to even bother wondering? You’ve seen movies and have had conversations with friends about guys who dismissed questions like that as ‘moving too fast’. You don’t want to scare Jungkook off, but you also need to know that you’re not wasting your time.

You remain in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you sigh and try to organize through your thoughts. You also try to break down how the past three days have been. 

However, trying to do so proves to be a difficult challenge, as Jungkook’s phone starts buzzing excessively on his side of the nightstand—it seems like he is getting a series of text messages from someone. 

You know you shouldn’t be looking or prying, but the constant binging of alerts only eats at your nerves more. You turn in the bed towards Jungkook’s side, picking up the device to search for the silence switch along the sides. The screen, however, lights up and you immediately see a name you have not seen or heard since college. 

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts 

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think 

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :) 

You freeze, feeling your body overload with information and questions come flooding into your mind. At first, you think you reread the message wrong. You think that maybe Jennie is texting the wrong person. But after the third or fourth time, you realize that this isn’t a dream. That Jungkook already has a plus one to the wedding, and it isn’t you. 

More than that, it’s Jennie. 

Jennie is also someone you went to college with, and someone that you only heard of between the grape vines and therefore is someone that is only vaguely recognizable. But you definitely know her. Jennie had been one of Irene’s friends, president of her sorority—and labeled some of the nicest people on campus. Even just from rumors and the one time you ran into her around the school, you can see it. Jennie is nice, beautiful, friendly, and outgoing. All the things you are not. 

And now, she’s Jungkook’s plus one to the wedding. And Jungkook did not tell you. 

Your lips part as your head starts to spin. Why didn’t Jungkook tell you he already had a plus one to Irene’s wedding? Maybe he did not owe you the explanation, and maybe you should never have assumed he’d be your plus one to the wedding. 

The thought of you assuming Jungkook would be your date to the wedding fills you with a vague mortification—why did you have to go ahead and assume? 

Your mind starts to spiral as you fall into the depths of overthinking. Now you were set to attend a wedding alone, with no plus one, and surrounded by people you don’t know. All while watching Jungkook sit with Jennie, eat with Jennie, and dance with Jennie. 

Holy fuck, holy fuck, what were you going to do? You can’t go to this wedding alone. You can’t confront Jungkook about this—you’re not even supposed to be touching his phone or looking through his phone. He would definitely be upset. How could he not be? 

At once, the tears collect in your eyes. How could this be happening? Seconds ago, you had been so content and happy, excited to attend this wedding with Jungkook. Seconds ago, you had been confident about your feelings, and Jungkook’s feelings in return. From all the kisses he showered you in, the date, the talking, the confessing—how could you not feel that way? 

Had Jungkook just been pulling your leg? After all, he did have three years to talk to you, to go out with you. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? Is he here right now: talking to you and laughing with you because he hadn’t found anyone and knows that you would do anything for him? 

In the background, you can vaguely make out the shower in the bathroom turn off, signalling Jungkook’s near completion with the bathroom. At once, it feels like you’re in a car that has enforced sudden breaks and has sent you flying against the dashboard—like you can’t breathe. 

Hastily, you rest Jungkook’s phone back on the nightstand and roll back over to your side of the bed. You blink quickly, trying to rid of the tears that have collected in your eyes while also trying to calm the lump in the back of your throat. 

Just as you’re starting to get a handle back on your feelings, the bathroom door opens and you can vaguely make out Jungkook’s humming as he exits. The fact that he sounds so carefree while you’re hurting only a handful of feet away almost makes the tears come back in. But you’ve learned how to hide your emotions well. 

Jungkook’s soft laugh brings you out of your thoughts. “Still in bed?” He asks jokingly, sitting on the edge and placing a hand on your ankle. You try not to stiffen at the gesture. “You know, even though we’re getting dressed at a different hotel, we still need to get going.” 

You take in a breath. “I’m comfortable here,” You exclaim, sitting up and facing Jungkook. He’s looking as wide-eyed, easy-going, and comfortable as always. You’re not sure how long you can keep up the facade of being okay. “I was just waiting for you, that’s all.” 

You don’t wait for him to reply as you slide off the bed, grab your clothes from your suitcase, and lock yourself in the bathroom. You ignore the lump in your throat as you brush your teeth, as you get your day started. Finally, you look up at your own reflection in the mirror. Unlike previous times, when there had been a glimmer to your gaze—you don’t know you recognize the now disheartened individual before you. 

You exit the bathroom and immediately turn to pack up your suitcase once more, ignoring Jungkook in the process. The boy is on his phone, typing something—probably a text message. Maybe he’s responding to Jennie, confirming their date for tonight, as he remains completely oblivious to your feelings. 

The thought brings the tears back to your eyes. 

“Ready to go?” Jungkook asks, all smiles and soft eyes as he slides off the bed to face you. 

You don’t look at him as you shoulder your carry-on bag and straighten into a standing position. “Yeah.” You don’t mean for the tone to come out dry and unresponsive, but you’re too focused on trying to get the tears out of your throat. 

You miss the way the smile slowly slips off Jungkook’s face as he watches you move towards the door. 

Jungkook moves towards you, reaching forward to take your suitcase from you just as he’s done for the past few days. 

You, however, brush him off. “It’s okay, Jungkook.” You pull open the door and make your way down the hallway without looking back to see if he’s following closer behind you. You don’t need his help, you don’t need his pity. You don’t need him to do these things, to lead you on—especially if he was going to end up with some other girl at then end of the day. 

You stay quiet as you make your way to Jungkook’s car. Jungkook steals the occasional glance in your direction, seeming to finally realize that something is wrong. 

He, however, doesn’t say anything until you’re back on the freeway—on the five hour drive towards the wedding venue. “Everything okay?” 

You’re playing with your hair, but you stop long enough to spare him a short glance. You’re not even looking at his face, you’re looking at the chair he’s seated on. “What do you mean?” 

Jungkook clears his throat. “You’ve been really quiet since I got out of the bathroom. You…” He gestures to the center console. “You’re not even playing any music.” He tries for a smile. “I’d really like to listen to your ‘everything’ playlist.” 

“Sorry, I’m not really in a music-listening mood right now,” You whisper, realizing that you should probably cover up your ass a little better than you are currently. “S-Sorry, I think it was something at the restaurant yesterday. I’m not feeling super hot right now.” 

“Oh no, do we need to stop by a pharmacy or something? I can run in and get some stomach machine or whatever—!” 

“Jungkook, it’s fine.” 

Maybe it’s the finality of your tone, or the sharper edge in your voice, but Jungkook quiets down again. One glance in his direction shows you the furrow of his eyebrows, the set of his jawline—he looks hurt and confused. And that kills you inside. 

A small part of you wants you just lay all your cards on the table—to admit your side of the story and let him know about the texts and the hurt feeling still eating itself at your heart. 

But another part of you, the bigger part of you, doesn’t want to give Jungkook that power. You don’t want to be the one to crack first, to be the one who gets hurt first. So you refuse to say anything, settling deeper and deeper into the seat of Jungkook’s car. Contrary to your initial thoughts, he doesn’t plug in his own phone to play his own music. He simply allows the pair of you to bathe in silence. 

Without the music to distract you, without Jungkook trying to make conversation, it forces your mind to linger on the events of the early morning. Maybe Jungkook didn’t tell you because it was obvious to him that the pair of you would never have been a plus one to the wedding in general. He’s probably hurt because Jungkook can’t get his way with you. 

The realization that he doesn’t even have the consideration to warn you ahead of time that an invitation for a ride doesn’t equate to an invitation to be a plus one brings the tears back to your eyes. Did you not even deserve a warning? Why would Jungkook let you kiss him, let you fall in love with him—only to turn his back on you like this? 

You have to keep your eyes glued to the window of the passenger’s side of the car, just to make sure Jungkook won’t see the tears. You can just imagine that he’ll ask, and the conversation will steer the pair of you into an even more awkward space. 

It’s a very agonizing five hours. Not having that time to recover from the shock of those texts is becoming increasingly more difficult for you to handle. 

There are a few times that your tears overwhelm your whole system, where you have to sniff to get a handle on your body’s response to the emotions going through your body—which you’re sure Jungkook can hear. After all, there’s no music playing and there is a silence that is threatening to swallow you whole. 

Jungkook, however, does not say anything in response to your very obvious sniffle. He merely tightens his grip on the steering wheel, and keeps his mouth shut. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to talk first, to explain what’s going on with you. 

The sky is bleeding orange by the time Jungkook pulls into the new hotel, the final hotel. There is still two hours until the wedding is set to start, but every nerve in your body is screaming for you to leave and go back home. Every nerve in your body is telling you that you don’t belong here anymore. 

“Okay, I let you have your peace for the whole drive over,” Jungkook starts off, voice tight, fixing the car into park. “But I’m asking you this right now. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem fine… and I’m worried about you…” He reaches across the car to land a hand on your shoulder. It’s a completely normal gesture, especially between you and Jungkook, but you cannot handle it. 

You jerk away. “I’m fine,” You snap out, actually fixing your gaze on him this time. Jungkook recoils, immediately retracting his arm from you, looking like you just burned him. You tear your gaze away from him. You’re not strong enough to see him hurt because of you. “Why do you care anyways?” 

Jungkook exhales in disbelief, turning towards the steering wheel of the car and running a hand through his hair. “What are you talking about? Is this about last night? Did I… say something to scare you off?” 

“This isn’t about what you said, this is about what you didn’t say and what you’re not telling me!” 

Jungkook looks like you just grew a second head. “What are you talking about?” 

You whirl back to face him. “Oh, so the fact that you and Miss. Jennie were already set to go to this fucking wedding together and you didn’t even think to give me a heads up and tell me?” 

Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. “What? How did you know about that?” 

You laugh, but it’s a hollow noise that only makes that lump come back to your throat. “Nevermind,” You bite out. This time, you don’t stop the tears from resurfacing as you give Jungkook a full look this time. His demeanor changes from frozen to pained at the sight. “I hope you guys are very happy together.” 

You don’t say another word as you fumble with the latch of the door before pushing it open with more strength than necessary. You can vaguely hear Jungkook struggling with his own seat belt, but you don’t care. You slam the car door shut and storm away. You don’t know where you’re going—maybe around the corner to scream, or to call a taxi that’ll take you to the airport. You don’t care about the wedding. You don’t think you could face the embarrassment in facing Jungkook or Jennie or Irene right now. 

“Shit, Y/N! Y/N!” Jungkook is calling for you now, his footsteps loud against the asphalt. 

Everything feels like you’re going through water, which is probably why Jungkook is able to reach you as quickly as he does. He catches you by the wrist. 

“Y/N—please, will you stop and just listen to me?” 

“No! Jungkook, let me go.” You start trying to tug your wrist, trying to pull yourself away from him. “Let me go! I’m leaving! I don’t want to see you anymore!” You’re gasping, the tears blurring your vision and making you feel powerless. 

Without a warning, Jungkook pulls you in his arms. Wrapping his arms around you, he traps you in his embrace. And you are miserable. 

“Stop it!” You gasp, trying to push him away. You’re heaving—crying and trying to escape from someone as strong as Jungkook is definitely a workout for your body. “Jungkook, leave me alone. This is all my fault.” 

He pauses. “What do you mean?” 

You stop struggling, allowing Jungkook to hold you as you pull back enough to look away from his face. You wipe at the tears on your face. “It’s my fault anyways. I said I liked you and you said you liked me too, but maybe that wasn’t enough for you. Just because we like each other doesn’t mean we’re exclusive. I should have asked up front, so I wouldn’t get hurt in the long run.” 

“You don’t need to get hurt though,” Jungkook whispers kindly, his voice overcoming the blood in your ears, as well as your own yelling. You quiet down at that, except for your own lungs contracting to catch more air. This leaves you a hiccuping mess. He waits until he knows you’re not going to say anything next. “You’re right, okay? Jennie and I were supposed to be each other’s dates.” 

You’re still trying to catch your breath. 

Jungkook rests a hand on top of your head, curling his fingers through the strands of your hair soothingly. “Are you okay?” 

You hiccup. “Why are you telling me this? I just told you that I’m hurt right now…” 

“Shhh.” Jungkook pulls back and cups your face in his hands so you can look at him. “You aren’t listening to me. I said we were supposed to be each other’s dates. We’re not anymore.” 

You blink, allowing the tears that were already filling your eyes to fall down your cheeks. Jungkook wipes them gently with his thumb. “What?” 

Jungkook’s gaze flickers between your eyes. “Jennie and I are friends, so we’d figure it would be fun to just go together and have a person to sit with, eat with, and dance with. As friends.” 

“W-What happened then?” You ask, a watery color in your voice. 

Jungkook gives you a gentle smile, the kind of gesture that tells you that you should know the answer already. “You happened, silly.” He keeps his eyes on yours. “I saw you at the party with Jimin and invited you to come with me. I assumed when I asked that we’d be each other’s plus ones. I forgot to tell Jennie though when I asked you out.” He tilts his head at you. “You saw the texts on my phone, didn’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry.” You hiccup again. “Your phone kept going off this morning and I was just trying to put it on silent. I-I didn’t mean to look through your messages…” 

“Shh, baby, you’re good, you’re okay.” Jungkook interrupts gently, wrapping his arms tighter around you and swaying the pair of you back and forth. The usage of the nickname fills you with a new feeling, a warmer feeling. It helps calm you down. 

Your breathing eventually evens out, bringing you back to reality and to the realization that you and Jungkook are hugging in the middle of a hotel parking lot. 

Jungkook loosens his grip on you, letting you step back. He watches you for a moment. “Here,” He says, digging through his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I think you should see this.” He clicks through a few of his apps, until he seems to find what he’s looking for because he hands the phone to you. You look over at him, confusion flooding through your features. Jungkook gives you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay.” 

Still hesitant, you take the phone and look at the messages across the screen. It’s the texts from this morning. 

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts 

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think 

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :) 

Jungkook (10:20AM): hey Jennie !! oh shit i totally forgot to let u know but i actually found a plus one :( i’m soooo sorry i should have told you earlier omg i feel terrible 

Jennie (10:20AM): no worries jungkook !! who is it omg do I know them? 

Jungkook (10:20AM): it’s actually Y/N? We all went to college together… 

Jennie (10:20AM): OH!!!! wait isn’t she the one Irene was working with a lot for senior projects? 

Jennie (10:20AM): OH HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO

Jennie (10:21AM): OKAY JUNGKOOK I SEE U 

Jennie (10:21AM): she’s THE Y/N right???? the one u were in love with for our entire college career?? 

Jungkook (10:22AM): …… maybe? 

Jennie (10:22AM): WOWOWOWOW good for u Jungkook !!! glad to see u finally having the balls to ask her out !! 

Jungkook (10:22AM): OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH 

Jungkook (10:23AM): I actually felt BAD for leaving you by yourself BUT NOT ANYMORE 

Jennie (10:23AM): LMAO Jungkook I’m friends with Irene’s entire bridesmaid row i’ll be fine 

Jennie (10:23AM): just go get ur dick wet!!!!!! 

Jungkook (10:23AM): istg i will leave you on read 

Jungkook (10:23AM): also that is NOT the point!!!!!! Just wanna love my new girl :( 

Jennie (10:24AM): You’re gross 

Jennie (10:24AM): but sounds good see you tonight! 

You look up from Jungkook’s phone to see him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction, pleading for you to forgive him. 

The only thought that can be translated into a coherent sentence comes out: “You were in love with me during college?” 

Jungkook exhales in a laugh, his arms finding your waist once again. “I think ‘in love with’ was a bit of a stretch back then. I think you could agree that we didn’t know each other well enough before for me to say that.” 

You’re still looking at him. “Back then…?” You echo. 

He nods. “Back then.” He brings you closer, one hand moving up to gently brush at the skin of your cheek. “But it’s different now. Now, I can say with absolute certainty that I’m in love with you.” 

Your lips part. “You’re in love with me?” The tears spring back into your eyes, but for a different reason entirely. The emotional rollercoaster you have just been on is unbelievable. 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight of your tears. “Oh shit, I’m sorry! Is that too fast? I’m sorry, I should have given you a warning or something. Or more time at least. Oh no, please don’t cry…” 

You brush him off with a watery laugh, waving his concern away. “It’s okay Jungkook. This is fine, really.” You give him a smile. “I love you too. I really thought you were pulling my leg or something.” 

Jungkook gives you his own small smile. “I’m sorry. I should have brought this up sooner about us being each other’s plus ones. Just because I assume something doesn’t mean it’s an established thing.” He brings you closer, his smile turning into a grin. “You love me too, huh?” 

You giggle. You’re too strung out to come up with something witty or clever. “Yeah…” 

Jungkook is still smiling, his gaze switching between your lips and your eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

You nod. “About time.” 

He kisses you again, softly and sweetly, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips but it’s gentle caresses that make your heart feel like it’s crawling up your throat. 

“OH MY GOD GET A ROOM!” A voice calls from the other side of the parking lot, forcing you and Jungkook to pull away. The pair of you look at each other and you start to laugh. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead, sweeping down to your ear. “How about we check into our room and get ready?” 

You giggle, nodding over at him. “That sounds good.” 

So Jungkook leads the way, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you gather your suitcases from the car and enter the lobby. You check in easily, as Jungkook is provided a map with directions on how to reach the room. 

The pair of you don’t pull away once until Jungkook is sliding the key card into the door and pushing it open to reveal the bedroom you’ll be sharing for the night. 

Both you and Jungkook park your suitcases near the foot of the bed, as per usual. 

“Do you want to use the bathroom?” Jungkook offers. 

You nod, smiling softly. “Okay.” 

You gather the dress you’ve brought in your arms, about to enter the bathroom, before Jungkook’s voice stops you. “Hey,” He calls, approaching you and wrapping you in his arms again. He’s much more handsey this time, like he needs to make sure you’re not going to run away again, like you’re going to be okay. “You feel better now?” His thumb brushes your lips. “Your eyes are still a little red.” 

You nod. “The makeup will probably help that,” You reassure in a soft voice. 

Jungkook mirrors your movements. “Still, how about I get some ice for you so you can put something cold underneath your eyes… to stop the puffing.” 

He looks genuinely concerned and worried for your wellbeing that you can’t help but smile. Since he is insisting, you decide to just let him be. “Okay, Jungkook.” 

He smiles. “Okay! You start getting ready and I’ll get the ice, okay?” A quick kiss on your cheek before he’s bounding out of the door with the provided ice buckets. 

Your eyes linger on the door for a few minutes before you’re turning back to your suitcase. The dress you have picked is a pink flowing floor-length number—something Karly helped you pick out before leaving. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t leave crease marks along the fabric, which had made this outfit perfect for the trip. You take the dress and your bag of makeup before entering the bathroom. You’re just slipping on the dress when you hear the hotel room door open and close. 

“Okay, I got the ice!” Jungkook announces through the bathroom door. “Did you want to work on your eyes right now?” 

“Sure,” You call back. “Do you mind zipping me up first?” 

“Of course,” Jungkook returns, sounding distracting as you open the door to the bathroom. You peek your head through, noticing Jungkook opening his suitcase on the floor and sorting through it—probably for his own suit. 

He must hear the door open, because he looks up towards you. Immediately, his eyes widen as he straightens up into a standing position. “O-Oh wow…” He’s looking you over up and down, up and down, as if he needs to commit this to memory. “Y-You look great. Beautiful.” 

“Really?” You stammer back. “Thank you.” 

Jungkook keeps his eyes on you as he approaches you. “You needed me to zip you up?” 

“O-Oh right, yeah.” Hastily, you turn around, brushing the hair from your back to expose your undone zipper, and your bare back. 

You think that he purposely grazes the tips of his fingers against your skin in his process of bringing the zipper up to the top of the fabric. You’re about to turn, thank him, but his hands back at your waist do the gesture for you. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You look really pretty.” 

You pout. “You’re being too nice to me.” 

Jungkook whines, hugging you close to him. “You’re too cute.” He noses at your temple. “I just wanted to see you smile.” He pulls away after a moment. “Let’s take care of your face, yeah?” He turns around and returns with a small baggy full of ice. “Here, sit down for a second.” He leaves for a second, returning back with a towel. “Maybe… five minutes each eye. I don’t know. I’ll get ready while we’re waiting.” 

So he takes his suit out from his case and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with a towel of ice pressed against your eye. The cooling sensation definitely helps with the puffiness. 

Jungkook appears from the bathroom a few minutes later—dressed in a black suit with a white button-down and a long skinny black tie. His hair has been fiddled with a little, but he still has that messy, boyish, lovable appearance that makes your heart race. 

“Did you switch the towel?” 

You nod. 

“How do you feel?” 

Slowly, you bring the towel down and rest it on your lap. You look at Jungkook. “How do I look?” 

He leans forward towards you, holding your chin gently between his fingers. “You look better. Did you need to finish getting ready?” 

“Yeah. I just need to touch up my makeup.” 

“Okay, go ahead then.” 

Jungkook takes the towel, and watches as you make your way back to the bathroom. You’re only gone for a few minutes before you’re emerging once more—eyeshadow a little darker, lashes a little closer, and lips slightly pinker, but overall still looking like the same version of the girl he fell in love with. 

The pair of you drive to the wedding venue, a cute brick building with browns, greens, and whites surrounding. Guests already swarm the outside area, some of whom you recognize from college. The sight makes you nervous. 

Jungkook sees this, and he reaches over to grab onto your hand. “You can just stick with me, okay?” He smiles. “I’ll protect you.” 

You roll your eyes, but you are thankful to have Jungkook as your source of comfort and be that person you could run back to. 

He parks and meets you at the front of his car, where you lace fingers and make your way towards the venue. You go through a small round of hellos and ‘nice to finally meet you’ conversations—most notably from Mingyu and Jennie, both of whom light up at the sight of your presence. Contrary to your previous worries, you find that you don’t really need to be so nervous. Mingyu and Jennie are friends of Jungkook’s for a reason—they radiate a relaxing nature that you can tell is what has drawn the three of them to each other. 

They ask about you, your college experience, your current experience, passing easy conversation in the ceremony space right before the start of the wedding. It’s fun to see Jungkook joking around with the friends he grew up with, and even more fun to see how easy you are allowed into that world. 

The actual wedding ceremony is a blur. You vaguely recognize the extremely attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Seokjin at the head of the aisle. You definitely recognize the equally as attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Irene, downed in white lace and looking much more beautiful than you ever remember her. Vows are exchanged, kisses are shared, there’s an applause, and pictures are taken before the guests are ushered into the main entry room—decked out with a bar and a few scattered seating areas. Jungkook whispers to you that guests are put here temporarily, as the ceremony space is being converted into a dining area. 

True to Jungkook’s promise, he lingers by your side most of the night. Although you reassure him that you are fine, you are much more emotionally stable compared to a few hours ago, and that perhaps you are okay catching up with Nayeon—another girl from college, actually someone from the first party you ever attended who defended you when you were receiving unwanted attention—but Jungkook simply tells you that he likes being around you. He likes being able to put his arm around you, likes to rest his hand at your waist, likes people knowing that he has you. 

It’s a few more minutes of conversation, of laughter, of old stories being exchanged between people you haven’t seen for years, when the guests are called back into the newly converted dining area. Instead of rows of chairs lined up, there are round tables filling the space. The long panel of doors once closed along the wall of the room have been opened—exposing a gazebo with a D.J. and a dance floor, all encircled by a string of big bright fairy lights. 

You and Jungkook are situated at the same table as most of the guests you recognize from college. You assume this is purposefully done to give you all a common ground, and it works because conversations spring easily between you all. Even when you’re not talking about your experiences from university, you’re able to transition from topic to topic. You and Jungkook occasionally talk amongst yourselves as you’re eating, but you sit together and laugh together when Irene and Seokjin emerge and listen in during the wedding toasts. 

Finally, Irene and Seokjin make their rounds through the room, stopping at the tables to cheer and laugh and exchange a few words of congratulations and conversation. Following this process, everyone at your table stands on their feet as Irene and Seokjin make their way towards you. There are bright smiles, Irene’s cheerful gasp as she takes in all the guests that have come to join her. She circles your table, hugging every guest, continuing this when she reaches you. 

Irene grins at the sight of you. “Y/N! Oh my gosh, it’s been so long!” 

“I know!” You return, pulling away from Irene. “Congratulations. This wedding is beautiful.” 

She beams, absolutely radiating in her white dress and glittering makeup. “Thank you so much for coming! But oh my god, are the rumors true, did you really show up—!” She looks over your shoulder, and grins again. “Jungkook!” She hugs Jungkook. “I should be saying congratulations to the two of you. I was surprised to get the text from Jungkook saying that you guys were coming as each other’s dates. Gave me a whole pain because I had to switch some seats around at the last minute. But anything for my favorite people.” She turns to you and holds onto your arms. “Jungkook has had a crush on you for years, so you’re really doing him a huge favor.” 

“Okay, enough,” Jungkook interrupts, scowling. But there is still that playful look in his eyes. “Did all your friends know about this? Jennie knew something was up too when I texted her.” 

Irene presses her lips together. “Mingyu might have mentioned something.” She presses her hand to Jungkook’s cheek. “Stay safe, you guys. Hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” She moves onto her next guest. 

Jungkook is groaning. “Remind me to never tell Mingyu anything ever again.” He glares at the boy from across the table. “Gonna fling some peanuts at that son of a bitch.” 

You laugh, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist. “Oh, let him be. It’s Irene’s wedding. You can get him tomorrow.” 

Jungkook pouts, but he does wrap his own arm around your shoulder. “Ah, love my girl—promoting evil behavior after festive events.” He kisses your cheek as your table takes their seats once more. 

The good natured atmosphere continues as you and Jungkook down your food, remaining fully engaged in the conversations happening around the table. After another hour of this, the DJ announces the start of the married couple’s first dance. Irene and Seokjin take to the dance floor and spin around, her white dress flowing around the room like light. Underneath the glow of the fairy lights, it looks like the couple is in an entirely new world. And you are so taken by it. 

Jungkook does not turn to you until the DJ plays a slow song—a first slow song after a series of upbeat dance and pop genres. He jerks his head towards the dance floor. “You want to dance?” 

You take his hand when he offers. “Of course.” He leads you across the room, towards the gazebo, where several other couples have moved to cling to one another. Jungkook pulls you in: one hand on your waist and the other with your own hand. “This is really nice,” You start off. 

Jungkook laughs. “The wedding, or the dance?” 

You smile over at him. “Both. Being able to slow dance with you, however, is marginally better.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a little after that. He seems content just staring at your eyes, taking in the magic of this moment. “Thank you for coming with me,” He starts. “The whole road trip thing. Definitely would not have been as fun if I did all that by myself.” 

“Well, thank you for inviting me,” You return. “Even though we had that big misunderstanding. I had a lot of fun.” 

“Hey.” Jungkook angles his head a little so he can look at you in the eyes. “You know that I would never hurt you, right? You’re too important to me that I wouldn’t even think to pull some stupid shit like that again. You know that I love you too much to do that to you, right?” 

“I do know now,” You say, gazing over at him. “And I love you too.” 

You’re not usually an expressive person. But it’s worth saying those words just to see the grin that overtakes Jungkook’s face. It’s worth even more when he leans forward, kissing you openly in front of all his friends, nibbling gently at your bottom lip, running his tongue over the wound, and into your mouth. It’s worth it to have his fingers dusting sweetly over your skin, coaxing your mouth to open to allow exploration. 

It feels like worlds pass before Jungkook pulls away, giving you that breathless smile dimple and all, before he’s leaning forward to bury his face into your neck. 

“I think the drive home will be fun,” Jungkook mutters softly. 

“Hm?” You hum, eyes closed as he presses tiny kisses along your neck. 

“Most definitely,” Jungkook says, lifting himself just enough so that his lips hover over your ear lobe. “Because I plan on fucking you in every hotel bed for the rest of the trip.” 

You feel your heart race, your cheeks heat. Yes, this was definitely worth it. 

[funkymbtifiction]

Welcome back! I guess time really flies faster for extroverts like us lol.

Well, we get bored faster, that's for sure. ;)

Anyways, I wonder, what is your stance (as 6w7) toward learning and failures in general? For 3w2 like me, it's totally fine to make mistake but I have to improve at a really fast pace every time. I rarely stop to sort out how I feel about the mistake and I just drive toward fixing it. But at the same time I'm very sensitive to criticism and failures, because it reflects poorly on my competency and a blow to my face. Which is why it could be nerve wracking to get plunged into new things, I could muck it up. It took a lot of willpower to force myself to do it and not think about how clumsy I'll look.

My head-energy 6 perspective is that learning is a process and takes time, that nobody is going to get it right offhand, and that failure is a way to learn how to do a better job next time and/or become more aware of your limitations. My 7 wing, however, thinks learning out to be easy and fun and wants to re-frame failure into a positive of some kind (a lesson learned, a door closed so another one can open, etc). TBH, I don't spend any time thinking about how I feel about the mistake (which most of the time is anger at being wrong or getting it wrong or shame for having embarrassed myself with misinformation, etc), I just work hard to make sure I won't make it again and/or to to fix it. I hate being 'exposed' or making a mistake in public especially.

Criticism for me is somewhat expected; I've had to work through a natural 6 tendency to expect the worst from people (that they won't like it or me, that they will only see what's wrong with it, or focus only on the mistake and miss the forest for the trees, which is just me 6ishly projecting my own insecurities onto other people; I've made great strides in moving past this in the last year or so, which has made my life a hell of a lot easier). If I receive criticism, I step back and evaluate it to decide if it's constructive; if so, I implement it, and if it's not or just a matter of opinion, I decide from there whether I care or not and agree with it or not. It's hard for me to ignore criticism, however, since I'm an attachment type who internalizes everything. I'm also protective of looking competent, because I work so hard to be truly good at the few hobbies / undertakings I take on.

My 8w7 boss and 8w9 aunt say something like 'don't care about how others see you. Only focus on yourself and be better each time. It's your journey and no one else's.' This is very interesting because I always attach to other people, like this guy did great. I have to be better next time. But 8s in my life just don't care about any of that. Which sounds refreshing lol.

Gosh yes, it would be amazing to be a rejection type... what has helped me in the past (which might not help you, as a core image type, lol) is to remind myself -- nobody cares what you do, so you might as well do what pleases you. They aren't thinking about you all the time and waiting with baited breath for you to show up in their life and dazzle them. They are thinking about themselves. So you don't have to show up for them, show up for yourself instead. Do it for you.

And ... is it normal to feel cringe toward people of your own type?

Yes. I experience this more with fellow 6s (especially online, watching them spiral, project, be fearful and negative, accuse others, and ping off them without finding a sense of their internal strength) than with other ENFPs, mostly because I know very few other ENFPs. But ENFPs being naive or unrealistic does make me flinch a little. And in a true Fi way, everything is always about me, so I assume their behavior is going to affect how people view ME. (EG, "This obvious ENFP who never edits anything has put out a terrible book, which means people who read it and think it's subpar might not buy indie authors anymore and that will affect me, since they won't give me a chance!" Wow boy, egocentric much? Welcome to Fi.)

Regar

My friend is ESTP 3w2 sp/so (essentially identical except sensor-intuitive divide). I feel cringe at some of what he did. [...] He is a great guy - smart, caring, fun and nice. But I can't help getting pissed by all those 3-ness and ETP-ness. Maybe it's because we share type? Since I know all his tactics and it's becoming like a mirror for myself?

Yep. Psychologists always say, you hate most in other people what you secretly hate in yourself... Being the same type, you know what he's up to, so he can't fool you, which fills you with disgust, because it's holding up a mirror to your previous behaviors.

[talatomaz]

kidnapped | hailey upton x fem!reader

a/n: of course, I have to make everything angsty since hurt-comfort is my fave genre 😁

this is based off 5x16 (chicago med) but instead of nat being kidnapped, it’s the reader.

requested by anon: “a hailey upton x female reader. where the reader works at 51 or med and both hailey and the reader have hidden their relationship from everyone.”

warnings: mentions of blood/guns. kidnapping (past and present). sexual references

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

after reader gets kidnapped by a murderer, hailey finds herself losing her mind because, though nobody else knows, her and reader have been in a relationship for almost a year and she is the love of her life

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Okay, I’m at work now. Have a great day, love.”

“You too, baby. Bye.”

You smiled as your girlfriend disconnected the call.

You had been dating Hailey for just under a year and you couldn’t help but be a bit pleased that the two of you had managed to keep it a secret this long.

With you working in Chicago Med and Hailey working in Intelligence, there was a lot of overlap with your work and considering you all spent your free time at Molly’s, it was a surprise that no one knew of your relationship.

You’d met Hailey almost two years ago. She had brought in a young teenager who’d been a victim of a home invasion - her parents had been brutally murdered leaving her as the sole survivor.

Hailey had remained by her side the entire time and you couldn’t help but appreciate that. Many detectives tended to just leave the injured with you or your fellow colleagues and then go off to work their respective cases.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, mind you. But there was something about the way that Hailey cared for this child that had just captivated your heart.

And since that day, you’d found yourself pining, for lack of a better word, over the blonde. But what you hadn’t realised was that she had felt the exact same way about you.

For several months, the two of you found yourself dancing around your feelings, both on the precipice of revealing your feelings before relenting at the last second. It was only until Ruzek had hit on you one night at Molly’s that had Hailey finally revealing how she felt about you.

You remembered how she stood there, cheeks red from the cold, eyes full of jealousy and black with lust. Suffice it to say, you couldn’t help but mentally thank Adam for unwittingly hitting on you because it had allowed you to finally be with the detective. And almost a year down the line, you were stronger than ever.

“Morning, Dr L/N!”

Blinking, you gathered your thoughts and turned to see Dr Marcel walking towards you. Furrowing your brows, you spoke, “Didn’t your shift start an hour ago?”

“Forgot my badge in my car. I should superglue it to my forehead.”

Returning his laugh, you spoke, “Think a stapler might work better.”

As you were about to walk away, your head whipped around to face a man running up the two of you. You immediately noticed the blood staining his hands and before you could speak, his voice came out in a frantic and rapid pants. Partly because he was running but mostly, you assumed, because of fear.

“Help! My wife. She’s in labour. She’s bleeding real bad.”

Glancing over at Crockett, you saw that his expression mirrored yours and, without hesitation, the two of you ran after the man, following him to his car to help his wife.

You were shocked, however, when upon approaching the van, you saw a man lay bleeding on the floor. His hand raised, a gun in his palm. Though it was winter, the sun still beamed and the light glistened off the metal, threatening to blind you.

“Give me your phones and get in.” The man, who’d come running up to you just moments before, said harshly.

“You don’t have to do this.” You said calmly, obeying his orders.

You weren’t sure how your voice came out so steady when it felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you before his gun would surely kill you.

“I’m the surgeon, alright. Let her go.”

Crockett’s attempts to reason with the two men were futile as they shouted for the two of you to get in.

Holding your breath, you willed yourself to calm down, needing to believe that Hailey would soon be looking for you.

God, please let Hailey find you.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Get up.”

Turning to look behind you, the man, who’d tricked you this morning, opened the van doors and you fought to hide a shiver as the cold Chicago air blasted through you.

You looked over at Marcel who tried to sit up as best he could, “I’m the surgeon. Let me go. I know what to get.”

“Cuff him. Do it.”

Catching the set of handcuffs that had been thrown in your face, you followed the man’s orders and, with a solemn look, you cuffed your friend to the bar above his head.

“Come on.”

You bit your tongue to prevent a curse leaving your lips as the man, what could only be described as, yanked you out of the van and held you tight to his side.

“Make any stupid moves and you and your friend both die.”

After picking up some supplies, you approached the checkout and silently pleaded at the cashier with your eyes, wishing that he could see the panic in your eyes and alarm someone to your predicament.

When it became obvious that that wasn’t going to happen, you began to lose hope before catching a glimpse of a security camera in the corner of your eye. Glancing up at your kidnapper, you saw he was preoccupied with paying, giving you a brief moment of reprieve to remove your hospital badge, letting it fall to the marble ground.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.” The man said, feigning a nurturing tone as he spoke to you through clenched teeth.

You winced at his harsh grip and followed him back to the van where you helped Marcel perform surgery to repair the bullet wound in the man’s leg, whom you assumed to be the brother of the driver.

Hailey frowned as she looked at the text she had sent you a few hours earlier; the one tick indicating that you hadn’t read it yet.

Where were you?

She tried to reason with herself, believing that maybe you were busy in the ER but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad had happened.

And Jay and Voight’s secrecy only seemed to add to her panic.

For the past few hours, her partner had been leaving the district and then coming back with a schooled look on his face that Hailey knew he used to conceal his worry.

And it didn’t help that whenever his phone rang, he left to privately answer it and immediately went to Voight’s office, closing the door which people only did in serious situations.

When Jay left Voight’s office, Hailey got up from her chair and grabbed Jay’s arm, dragging him into the dingy break room.

“What’s going on?”

“What?” Halstead crossed his arms, his attempts to feign confusion failing miserably.

“Never play poker, Jay. What’s going on?” Hailey repeated.

Jay sighed, “Dr L/N and Marcel have been kidnapped.”

The blood drained from Hailey’s face as she grew visibly pale. Trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, she spoke, “What?”

“Maggie found their phones in the car park. There was blood on them and we lifted a partial print and matched it to Tyler Clemons. A convicted murderer.”

Hailey leaned against the table when she felt her knees buckle beneath her.

Halstead stared at her in concern but before he could question it, his phone rang.

Hailey watched silently as he hummed in response to the other person on the line. When he disconnected, he looked at the blonde, his eyes filled with unbridled relief.

“I think we’ve found them. Gear up. I’ll tell Voight.”

Without hesitation, Hailey immediately rushed out the door and ran downstairs to get ready.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“This is Detective Jay Halstead with the Chicago Police Department.”

Your shoulders slumped in relief as you heard your friend’s voice be projected through, what you assumed was, a megaphone.

The two men had taken you to their mother’s home where you gained clarity on the reasoning for their actions.

The injured man, who you learned was called Tyler, had a young son diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything you or Marcel could do, and instead, you’d been forced to restrain yourself to the wooden chairs you were currently sitting on.

You listened as Halstead announced that the house was surrounded, hoping that Hailey was outside but simultaneously wishing that she wasn’t in fear of it going sideways - you didn’t want her to see your dead body.

“Here. Uncuff her.”

You held your breath as Tyler threw the keys at Crockett, not wanting to say a word in case he ended up changing his mind.

After he freed you, you rubbed your wrists, slightly wincing at the red marks that had risen on your tanned skin. Then you began to protest when Tyler made it obvious that he was only letting you go but after some persuasion from your friend, you reluctantly left Crockett in the house.

Opening the front door to the suburban home, you felt another wave of cold air run through you and you raised your hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Patrol, stand down. Friendly coming out.” Jay had yelled and then you found yourself being hurried behind shields to where Jay stood.

And Hailey.

The moment you laid eyes on the blonde, you fell into her arms as she held you fiercely against her.

Her arms wrapped tightly around you before she pulled you back. Her eyes roamed over you, trying to look for any injuries.

“I’m okay.” You whispered, your hands on hers.

Her eyes filled with tears as she tugged you back towards her and kissed you. The kiss was passionate, laced with the ferocity that often came with almost losing someone you love.

Pulling away once more, you rested your forehead against hers and breathed out, your breath coming out in harsh pants.

“I think the cat’s out of the bag now.”

You laughed dryly as you glanced up, noticing Halstead, Maggie, Natalie and April staring at you both with wide eyes.

“I don’t care.”

And you could tell she truly didn’t when she kissed you again, more tender this time.

“God, I thought I’d lost you. I was so worried.”

“I’m okay, baby. I’m right here.”

You reassured your girlfriend as you embraced her once more, wanting nothing more than to feel her bare skin on yours, devoid of the winter clothing she was currently wearing.

“I love you so much, y/n. I never want to be without you again.” Hailey whispered harshly, gently rocking you in her arms, her hand cradling your head against her chest.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“I’m glad to see you’re okay, y/n.”

“Thanks, Kev.”

Almost everyone had gathered at Molly’s despite it being past midnight. You’d all collectively decided that, after the day you’d had, you needed a drink. Marcel had stayed for a while and you thanked him for looking after you whilst you were taken. Hailey also expressed her gratitude to the surgeon which he accepted graciously before deciding to turn in for the night.

You were currently sitting in a booth, cuddled up against Hailey, her arm wrapped comfortably around your waist.

Since the house, she hadn’t left your side once, not when you were getting checked out by the paramedics nor when you were giving your statement to the police.

And whilst being by your side, she also never let her hands leave you. Whether it be a hand on yours or her arm around your waist, she was never not touching you.

To be truthful, you were grateful because her touch grounded you and made you feel safe in a situation where your sense of security had been shattered.

“That was a smart move, dropping your badge on the gas station’s floor.” Halstead commented, sipping his beer.

“Did what I had to do. Speaking of which, Maggie, I’m gonna need that back so I can go to work tomorrow.”

Just as Maggie was about to hand the badge over to you, she snatched it out of your reach.

“Um, I don’t think so. You are taking a few days off, at the minimum.”

You raised your brows, challenging her when she spoke again.

“L/N, if I see you in my ER tomorrow, I’m gonna cuff you to your bed.” Maggie said, making everyone else around you laugh.

“Hey, if anyone’s cuffing y/n to the bed, it’s gonna be me.”

You blushed profusely at Hailey’s comment, the redness of your cheeks contrasting with your tanned skin.

“Kinky.” Jay commented before abruptly closing his mouth when Hailey stared at him.

“Now, how the hell did you manage to keep this a secret for a year?”

“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be detectives?” Natalie joked, looking at Burgess, Atwater and Halstead.

“Guess we’re just great at keeping secrets. And it became kinda fun, I guess.” You shrugged, glancing up into Hailey’s eyes and she smiled at you.

“Yeah, it became like a game to us. To see how long we could keep it secret.”

“Probably could have kept it secret much longer if you hadn’t kissed me like that.” You chuckled, planting a soft kiss on Hailey’s lips when she playfully frowned.

“Says the one who got kidnapped.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got kidnapped again.”

“Again?!”

Everyone except Hailey stilled as they all stared at you.

“It’s a long story.” You stated.

It wasn’t that difficult to talk about now but it still left you uncomfortable and you wished you could will the words back into your mouth.

Sensing your discomfort, Hailey answered for you.

“A story for another day. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Nodding, you stood up and hugged your friends goodbye and then left the bar, your hand clutched tightly in Hailey’s.

“Are you okay?” She leant down slightly to kiss your cheek and then whispered in your ear.

Not wanting to lie but not able to find the right words either, you ended up shrugging instead. At that, Hailey brought your joined hands up to her lips where she gently placed a kiss on yours.

“I’m here for you, baby. Tonight and every other night.” Hailey said, alluding to the bad memories that would surely plague your sleep.

Since being with Hailey, the night terrors you’d once had about your past had become more infrequent.

Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. The trauma of almost dying coupled with your previous abduction would ensure your lack of sleep.

But you would have Hailey next to you, so it wasn’t that much of a bother.

You may not feel safe in the world but you did feel safe in her arms and that was enough for you.

[theopolis]

Extremely long, extremely salty Kindred criticism post

Yk the thing about the Kindred storyline is that it failed at being everything it was trying to be.

It wanted to be like DeMatteis' Goblin Junior arc while simultaneously inverting every concept from that arc. Harry is a gentle soul going down a dark path and hurting not only others but himself in the process? No, he's the comically evil mastermind who would throw his friends - Gwen and MJ, who even by his own standards have done him no wrong - under the bus to get revenge! Norman is the looming influence that follows Harry and motivates him to bend himself into who his father wanted him to be? No, he's the repentant, permanently dewey eyed reformed Norman who we're supposed to feel bad for when he gets dismissed and punched around by evil Harry/his demonic clone vessels/whatever the fuck. Peter is the best friend who, despite of course feeling angry and betrayed, believes in Harry's softness and their love and wants the best for him? No, he's immediately and with zero explanation ready to believe Harry is a literal demon all of a sudden and, I quote, "through with helping him". And I don't even think this (later clumsily backpedaled on) change of mind in Peter isn't justified in-universe - Kindred did uh, dig up the skeletons of Peter's loved ones and put party city wigs on them and also smash him with a big rock a couple of times, so there's that. But that's exactly the problem - Spencer set the stage for a story that doesn't actually involve Peter, or Harry, or Norman. He created mostly completely different dynamics between mostly completely different characters, and decided to project that on the the three of them. While also periodically inserting hamfisted callbacks to the DeMatteis stories, as if he didn't just take a giant dump on everything they established.

And here's the thing, even if I did enjoy the idea of Harry forgiving Norman, or the idea of Harry returning to villainy, or the idea of Norman becoming a character we're supposed to root for - which I cannot stress enough how much I don't - the execution of all these ideas was perhaps the worst it could have possibly been. Rushed, convoluted, and hollow.

Norman's sudden goodness is the result of a supernatural, vague process that apparently "freed him of his sin", whatever that means. Like, how do you quantify sin? How can you take it out of a person when it's their moral ideology and conscious choices that make them sinful/bad/evil? What happened to Norman simply reads like brainwashing to me. He is aware he's done something really bad, but he hasn't actually learned anything, and that impression is only backed by the way he talks about his past actions. It's always "oh it's my fault you're like this Harry" and "oh I can never make it up to you" etc etc but does he ever actually recognize his mistakes for what they were? Recognize where the errors of his past convictions lie? Of course not, because Spencer has zero reading comprehension and therefore no clue about the intricacies of Norman's character, his abuse of Harry, or what motivated it, or what he demanded of his son. It's funny how these four panels from a recent What If issue managed to paint a more compelling, if brief, picture of Norman as an apologetic father than Spencer has in a year worth of comics:

Harry's sudden villainy and the way it evolved throughout this story is just a train wreck. He has not had a substantial role in the comics for a long time now, but suddenly he's back AND he's evil! Who cares about complexity? Who cares about how Harry's feeling? Why he's doing what he does other than some extremely vague idea of revenge on apparently both Peter and Norman? Even though he was neck deep in denial about Norman being a horrible father and person at the time he supposedly launched the whole (checks notes) "create clones from Norman's and Gwen's DNA to stick it to his old man AND Peter in the future" plan, which he concocted because he somehow (????) knew his father wasn't gonna stay dead, which begs the question why he was so torn up about it in the first place, and- Look I could sit here all day trying to decipher the whole Gabriel and Sarah Stacy twist. It's impressive what an inconsistent, incomprehensible mess it is considering it was only introduced two issues ago. ASM 74 sort of hinted that Harry was being piloted by Mephisto when he created the clones so they could later become his hellish lackeys? I uhm, think? It's impossible to tell because no part of that retcon makes any sense to begin with. It doesn’t want to make sense because it was written - most likely on a whim - with the sole intent to garner good will for undoing Sins Past. Harry, for this entire arc, was not a character but merely a tool to bait us with an OMD reversal and ultimately do a Sins Past one. And of course, there's the fact that post OMD Harry - one of the only good things to come out of OMD in the first place - was just a clone all along, putting into question how valid all the amazing and inspiring development he went through since his revival was. Thanks a lot.

Lastly, I don't think I have to say how insulting it is to not just use Harry's character as a cheap plot device, but eventually force him to sacrifice his life for the very man who ruined it in every way. The man who abused him since birth, betrayed him on every level, attacked and murdered so many people Harry loves, including almost getting Harry's son killed. Why? Because he’s had a suspicious sudden onset of goodness that Harry has no context for? Norman and clone!Harry have not even interacted for this entire arc, but the sole act of Norman offering himself up to the rabid Kindred twins makes Harry instantly forgive everything he’s ever done. There was no build up to this whatsoever. It’s bad writing. And I don't think the abuse apologism implications of all this are intentional, I think Spencer just thought up the groundbreakingly subversive concept of "what if Norman good and Harry bad" and ran with that. But those implications are there nonetheless, because Harry and Norman's relationship has pretty much always been about abuse, about being mistreated by your parents, about not feeling good enough for them and eventually realizing that you were wronged and you don't owe them anything.

Spencer had Harry, a man who fought for years to rise to his best, most authentic self and fully turn his back on Norman and his legacy, die to save the father who never valued him for that self. And to add insult to injury, paralleled that with Harry dying after saving his best friend who loved him unconditionally. The latter mentioned death being a direct consequence of the actions Harry took to fit the expectations said abusive father had drilled into his head. I feel like that ending explains everything about this plotline.

[ombreblossom]

i am and i am not (what you choose to see)

This is a birthday fic for @rosy-cheekx, but in many ways I wrote it as much for myself as I did for them.

Featuring: a gender-questioning Martin in the safehouse. What better time to explore one’ gender identity than while one is on the run from dangerous eldritch forces?

Content warnings (please let me know if there anything i’ve missed): kissing, very minor internalized transphobia, and a brief discussion of Martin’s mother.

AO3 Link: here~

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“There’s no rush, Martin. Take your time,” Jon raises his voice from the other side of their bedroom door, passing time running his fingers across Daisy’s sparse knick-knacks—just enough of them to present a front of homeyness to any errant visitors but not enough of them to clutter her otherwise spartan living space. Several Archers novels and otherwise miscellaneous reading materials line the single squat bookshelf in the entire cottage, an unbroken coating of dust overlaying everything. Jon picks up a porcelain dog (or a wolf?) and rolls it over in his hands.

“The longer I take, the more likely it is I’m never going to leave this room.” Martin almost-yells back, interrupting the muffled frustrations of someone wrangling an unfamiliar article of clothing.

“And what a shame that’d be. I rather hoped we’d trot down to the village today for a late lunch.”

"Gotta take advantage of the warm weather while we have it," Martin adds.

"Exactly."

"And I'm sure you have no ulterior motives whatsoever."

"Yes, of cour—wait, what?"

“Don’t worry," Martin says with a worrying lilt. "I know what you’re really after.”

Jon pauses and, after a beat, replies, “Oh? And what would that be?”

“Here, I’ll set the scene for you: enter Fiona’s Used Books.” Jon can see (in his mind’s eye, not his eldritch one) Martin preparing his best mock-theatrical pose before continuing. “In the far-right corner, the side of the establishment that faces the setting sun, is a raised platform. Cushions and pillows of all shapes and colors and sizes are strewn about the platform, some left contorted by their previous users before they left the shop to go about their day. Two wide-pane windows allow a full complement of the sun’s rays to gently warm the area. A lone figure lies nestled among several cozy-looking pillows, completely dead to the world but for a purring cat atop the figure’s chest—”

“Yes, yes, all right. You’ve made your point,” Jon grouses. “I hope you know that I consider spending time with you much more important than sunbathing with the bookshop owner’s cat.”

“I know, Jon; don’t worry.” An audible grin carries through the door.

Jon directs his own smile at the door and says, “Yes, well, now that you mention it, I did want to stop at the bookshop if we had time.”

“I think we can make that work. I’d hate to miss seeing you be adorable with Maggie.”

Jon sputters a bit in futile indignation. Martin has made his opinion of Jon's alleged adorableness abundantly clear, and it's not worth challenging him on it. He'd let Martin have this, even though the idea of anyone thinking he's adorable rankles him almost as much as the word spooky does.

(This is less the case coming from Martin, but he’d sooner shuffle off his mortal coil than tell him that.)

The weight of the porcelain wolf—he’s decided—in his hand grabs his attention. In fidgeting with it, he’s managed to rub all the dust off its coat, revealing a delicate blue glaze swirling around the figure. Wiping the excavated dust on his trousers, a concerning realization creeps into Jon's awareness. "Martin?" He calls out.

Martin yells back something questioning, the exact words lost in their reverberations around the inside of their bedroom.

“I know you’re trying to distract me right now,” Jon says matter-of-factly. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, I completely understand.”

All sounds of movement cease on the other side of the door—worryingly quickly.

“Martin?” Jon ventures.

“No. I…want to do this. I want to be more myself.”

Jon nods. “All right. Let’s have a look at you, then.”

It takes several long seconds, but the door creaks open, leaving just enough room for Martin to poke through the gap and reveal dark, furrowed brows set in a face that belies its owner’s vocal confidence just a moment ago. Tension lends Martin’s grip on the door a strength that looks painful from where Jon stands.

“Just gimme a second, gimme a second. Let me…let me get my bearings.” Martin’s visible shoulder, draped in a sheer dark-blue fabric, lifts and sinks with long, deep breaths.

A wave of concern washes over Jon. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m-I’m scared, I think. There’s no reason to be scared, but—"

“Who says you need a reason to be scared of something?” Jon interjects, and he immediately regrets the hard edge he hears in them.

Martin exhales sharply and averts his eyes away from Jon, grip tightening on the door, something Jon wouldn’t have thought possible. “Oh, you know, just the fact that we’re on the run from a body-hopping avatar of the Beholding, who can see us through anything even resembling an eye and almost certainly knows exactly where we are.”

“Yes…I know. I’ve been trying not to think about it, if I’m being honest. But even though there’s this uncertainty looming over us, you’re more than justified in feeling afraid of more…mundane things.”

Martin can’t help but scoff at that. “Yeah. Right."

“Do you…do you want to talk about what’s going on?” Jon asks, softness smothering any nascent trace of compulsion. The Beholding doesn’t get to have this, not if Jon has anything to do with it.

“I don’t….” Martin exhales again. “I’ve never tried to be this before,” he says, staring at the neat rows of hardwood planks to Jon’s left. “So much of my life has been just letting other people see me how they wanted to see me because it…I don’t know, helped me be someone specific to them when they needed it. I’ve been someone who won’t stir up a fuss; someone to project their frustrations onto; someone who cares for others for the sake of it; and, definitely most frequently, someone who presents as a man.

“There never seemed a point in saying, no, there’s more here than what I’m letting you see, you know? Sometimes it’s simpler to reduce myself to a single quality, even if it’s never helped me be close to people.

“But if I leave this cottage now, people are going to try to categorize me, try to match me up with some image they have preconceived in their minds, and they won’t be able to. And I’m not sure I should want that anymore, either. I guess the main thing is….” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “It’s terrifying to try to be something other than what the world sees you to be.”

Jon can’t let that go unanswered. Jon needs Martin’s attention for this, so he brings his hands to rest on each of his cheeks, not so much holding him in place but gently suggesting that’s his intention. Jon wouldn’t begrudge Martin his space if he needed it.

“You’re right. It is terrifying letting people see past the outward veneer we put up.” Jon says, concern still present but receding. “It’s not really my place to tell you how to work through that terror, but I am here for you—all of you, not just the parts of you you’re used to showing the world—and I’ll support you however I can.”

“God, Jon, how can you just say things like that?”

Jon makes a sound that’s something just shy of a laugh. “Because they’re true, Martin.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Come on out, Martin; it’s just us, and I want to see all of you, if you’ll let me.”

Still mostly hidden by the door, Martin stares at Jon, Jon with his myriad marks and scars; his long, unbound gray-streaked hair; and an extra ten years perpetually set in his shoulders. He’s pinned by the intensity of the affection in Martin’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you first?” Martin asks, voice terribly quiet.

The request shakes Jon to his core, but he recovers quickly, nodding his assent. “Please do.”

Martin steps out from behind the door and kisses Jon, Jon’s eyes closing on reflex before he can get a good look at him. The romance novels Jon used to pick up when the ache for a happy ending of his own became too painful to ignore any longer would have him feeling light and airy, almost senseless, as if suspended in space and time as he and Martin exchanged breath. Jon has never felt more grounded. He’s never felt more aware of every sensation within and without his body; the sensations of Martin’s hot breath on his face and his chapped lips pressing against his own keep him firmly tethered to the here and now. Jon’s heart hammers in his chest—so much so he’s sure Martin can feel it, too, their chests pressed together as they are.

When they break apart, Jon opens his eyes and says breathlessly, “Let’s get a good look at you. The mirror’s just over here.” Jon takes his hands back to make the journey easier but feels his heart drop when Martin looks back at the door left ajar in their haste to come together. He looks bereft. Bereft of what, Jon’s can’t be entirely sure, but Jon makes a judgment call and grabs one of Martin’s hands and pulls him along toward the far end of the room, their fingers interlaced.

It had seemed a bit odd for Daisy to have such a vanity piece, but Jon's thankful for it and thankful it wasn't as firmly affixed to the wall in their bedroom as it at first seemed. It would have made for cramped space indeed to have them both crowding around it, and Jon doesn’t want Martin to be alone for this.

They stop just in front of the mirror, Jon off to the side and Martin situated front and center. He gives Jon’s hand a grateful squeeze and looks at his reflection.

“What do you see when you look at yourself, love?” Jon prompts, squeezing Martin’s hand right back.

“I see myself wearing this dress we found rather miraculously in this northern Scottish village of three hundred whole people.”

“And?”

“And it’s…fwooshy.”

“Fwooshy.”

Martin nods with all the sage wisdom of a learned poet. “Yes. It’s light and it moves when I move. It feels like it’s barely touching me at all times, which is so different from how my normal trousers and jumpers feel.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

“Mm-hmm. And it’s just pretty, don’t you think?

“Indeed.” Jon debates drawing attention to the question Martin is dancing around, but he trusts Martin to get there in time. “I thought so the moment we found it.”

Martin makes a non-committal sound. “You know, this is a lovely color on me.”

“Come to think of it, I’ve never really seen you wear darker colors before now. You always wore jumpers with a lot of bright colors around the Archives.”

“Yeah. It was, um. My mum, she used to say stuff like, ‘Why do you want to look so dreary all the time? Bright colors look so much better on you,’ and I guess that stuck.” Martin’s voice takes on an affect somewhere between disappointed and exhausted as he imitates his mother, and Jon struggles not to form opinions about that until they’ve had time to talk about her more. “I think she liked looking at the brighter colors I’d wear, especially once she couldn’t really leave our flat very often. I want to think they reminded her of the outside. She never said that, though. I don’t know.

“Wearing a color like this makes me happy, though. Wearing delicate clothes like this that don’t hide me away makes me happy. I want to say I feel….” Martin trails off.

“I feel beautiful, Jon. I really, really do.”

Jon tugs Martin’s hand, still joined with his own, up to his lips and places a kiss on his knuckles, at once affirming you’re beautiful, love and urging Martin to continue.

Visibly reorienting himself, Martin continues: “I see a Martin I’ve never let myself be before. A Martin not at odds with himself. With the rest of the world, maybe, but not with himself. I want to be him, Jon.”

“Then be him.”

“What, just like that?”

“Well, not ‘just like that.’ It’ll take time to feel comfortable presenting your whole self to other people, and that’s okay. The time and effort will be worth it; the world is better for having you, all of you, in it.”

Martin nods shakily, looking for all the world like he’s adrift in the middle of the ocean with sliver of land visible in any direction.

Jon waits for Martin to gather his thoughts. It's the least he can do, lend Martin his patience, patience he's long deserved and nary gotten from Jon for most of their relationship. Plus, it gives Jon some time to look, to really look at this beloved person standing next to him.

Jon's never given much weight to a person's looks as a part of his attraction to them. More often than not, Jon would start to find someone pleasing to look at only after becoming attracted to them in other ways. Otherwise, people were people and what they looked like mattered little in the face of their ideas, their arguments, and their kindnesses (or lack thereof).

Things progressed much the same way with Martin, and now? Well, Jon would like to never stop looking at Martin, thank you very much, and the universe would do well to cooperate with him on that.

Jon looks and looks and looks as Martin twists from side to side, watching as the dress billows out around him. The dress is elegant, made more so by the person wearing it. It's long, the navy chiffon wrap falling down around Martin’s ankles in gentle fluttering waves. A more opaque under-layer provides him some coverage from his chest to his mid-thighs but by no means diminishes his silhouette: soft and sturdy in equal measures. The dress cinches together an inch or so below his pecs, highlighting the generous curve of his hips. Shoulders Jon knows teem with freckles are enveloped in wide navy chiffon sleeves. The wrap-around style of the dress creates a deep V-shaped neckline, revealing more lovely freckles spread across his ample chest.

Martin is gorgeous—full stop. He fills out the dress beautifully, fabric flush with his skin in all the right places. Jon has to keep himself from flying apart with fondness for the man. The dress suits him; there was no way Jon could have anticipated how much it would after observing its shape uninhabited.

Martin cuts through Jon’s musing with a whisper: “Thank you, Jon.”

“For what?”

“For…for being here with me. Throughout all this.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, Martin,” Jon says in a tone that brooks no argument.

“Right. Cool,” he says airily, earning a light chuckle from Jon. He’s not at all surprised when he finds himself at the receiving end of a playful nudge.

“If you’re up to it, I’d still love to go into the village and share a meal with you, show you off to our lovely neighbors.” Jon stops for a moment before continuing, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “That is to say, I’m not trying to imply you’re my possession or that I get to parade you around as I please. I just mean that….” Jon looks deep into earthy brown eyes and presses on. “I just mean that I want everyone to know and see how much of a privilege it is to be with you, to be able to bear witness to you putting more of yourself out into the world—if you’re ready.”

“We’re already the novel English couple from out of town staying in the infamous nigh-abandoned cottage on a mysterious holiday—what’s another oddity for the list, eh?”

“Hey! I won’t have anyone talking about my—oh.” Jon makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “It occurs to me that you might prefer different terminology for yourself. Is it still all right for me to refer to you as my boyfriend’? Or would you prefer something without a gender connotation like ‘partner’?”

“Jon, I spent the last two and a half years wanting to be your boyfriend, and that hasn’t changed. Having you call me that doesn’t bother me and is, in fact, one of my dreams come true.” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand and wraps him up in his arms; Jon’s follow suit. “Thanks for asking, though. I’ll let you know if anything doesn’t feel quite right.”

Jon buries his face in the crook of Martin’s neck, savoring the warmth and gentle scent of something vaguely herbal permeating through the chiffon dress. They’ll return to Martin’s comment later, he’s sure. “All right. I like ‘boyfriend,’ too, just for the record.”

“I’m glad,” he says, leaning his head on Jon’s.

“So,” Jon starts, pouring all the comfort he can manage into his embrace, “how about it? A late lunch at the pub, and then we can go see Maggie if there's time?”

Martin pulls away from Jon and smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good. Let’s get going,” he says.

“Yes, let’s.” Jon moves toward their makeshift mudroom, which is nothing more than a sorry shoe rack leaned against the wall next to the front door and a couple of wooden pegs designed to hang heavy coats.

“And, Jon?”

Jon turns part of the way back around, cocking his head to the side in mild confusion. “Yes?”

There’s a subtle tension in Martin’s stance when Jon looks back at him, but he’s standing up noticeably straight and puffing himself up. This is familiar to him; he imagines he looks the same way when he’s about to go into a situation that involves delicate social interactions.

However, this is unfamiliar to him as something Martin does in the face of imminent discomfort. Martin isn’t a lip-worrier. Nor is he a fidgeter. Too much practice maintaining a guise of false cheer. No, what Martin does is shrink. He hunches over imperceptibly and draws his arms into himself, and makes the space he’s in feel that little bit bigger, that little bit lonelier, for his diminished presence in it.

Resolve blooms on Martin’s face. It’s a fragile thing, Jon can tell, but it’s there. Jon hopes this is just one instance of many of Martin deciding to take up his due space and filling the world with his presence. “Would you start also using ‘they’ and ‘them’ for me sometimes?” Martin starts, in a rush. He continues, slower and more hesitant, “I just want to try them out; see how they feel and all that. Might not be a permanent thing.”

“It would be my utmost honor and pleasure to use whatever language my boyfriend feels most comfortable with me using for them.” Jon says primly, bent slightly at the waist and arms swept to one side.

In a second, Martin closes the distance between them, hooking one arm under Jon’s legs and behind his back and twirling him around, both of them giggling all the while. Jon gets the impression Martin’s taking it easy (in consideration of the abundance of fabric flowing free around their ankles, if he had to guess), but it’s perfect anyway.

For his part, Jon is taking this opportunity to admire his boyfriend between giggles: the sepia highlights in their hair, brought out by the (no doubt by now) sinking sun; the double chin Jon likes tucking his head under when he wants to feel at home; the strength in all of Martin’s body but especially their arms, arms that hold him close as they spin around the room, never showing signs of faltering. Mingling with admiration for Martin’s physical form is an enduring respect for Martin’s courage and his life-long compassion. This is a person Jon would trust with his life and his heart.

Eventually, Martin returns Jon to solid ground. Jon would say it was too soon, but they’re both slightly out of breath, and time is moving ever forward. Jon practically falls into Martin, pressing their foreheads together. The smooth chiffon slides against Jon’s skin as they shift into comfortable positions. He closes his eyes and isn’t aware of much else that isn’t Martin.

“Hey there, handsome,” Martin says after more time passes. “What’s someone like me got to do to get someone like you out that front door so we can actually go on our date sometime this century?”

Jon’s eyes crinkle in the corners, deeply amused. “You might have to carry me over the threshold at this point. Just make sure to grab our shoes—wouldn’t want leave without completing your ensemble, after all.”