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pregnant-piggy · 3 years ago

Text

Reminds me of home

Jesper Fahey x reader

words: 5.5k

warnings: mentions of food and animals, reader’s mother is dead, no pronouns used for the reader

A/N: this is my first time writing Jesper, so I struggled with his character and don’t think this is totally right, but I loved writing this too much not to share it with you :) please let me know what you think, thank you!

The sun was setting slowly in the sky, painting orange strikes on a gradually darkening canvas, when Jesper checked the note in his hand one final time, before stepping onto the driveway of the old farmhouse. Around the farmhouse lay a yellow-green grass lawn, with on the left side of the house a little garden with flower beds in full bloom. Behind the house stood the stables and sounds of breezing horses and bleating goats filled the air, along with the lingering scent of drying grass.

The front of the house was covering in shadow, the red bricks and woodwork a tone darker than they would be in the sunlight. Above the front door hung a single lamp, and the flickering of the fire inside of it wasn’t enough to compete with the light of the setting sun.

Jesper groaned as he walked over the driveway to the front door. He wondered what the odds were that he had pulled the farm out of the stack with hideouts.

A week ago, Kaz had come with his plans for a new job. This time the victim was a rich merchant, who had a large estate in the country lands outside of Ketterdam. The merchant’s name was Klaas Rover and he was well-known in wealthy circles.

Just recently, Rover had bought a very pricey DeKappel painting and Kaz had found out that he was moving the painting to his country-estate at the beginning of that week. The basics of the plan had been easy. As long as Rover wasn’t at the house and the painting was, it would be impossible to get it with all the security. But, according to Kaz, there would be one moment of weakness in the security. From the morning Rover would step foot into his mansion to the night he’d fall asleep there, the merchant would want to showcase his painting to everyone who’d want to see it. That night had been the night to strike.

And so had Kaz done. He had set out with a small team; Inej and Jesper had been at his side, followed by two other Dregs, Pieter and Roos. The whole operation had gone according to plan and the painting had come off the wall and outside without a hitch.

That was why it had come as a surprise when Kaz had pulled out three pieces of paper with the notion that they had to hide for a couple of days. Inej had gone with Kaz, Pieter and Roos were together, and Jesper was alone.

‘Remember, you are Thomas van Dijk now,’ Kaz had said before they had parted ways. ‘You are a student and stranded alone after a trip with your fellow students. I know the people there and they will take you in.’

Kaz had disappeared before Jesper could say anything and he had seen no other option than to follow Kaz’s orders.

So now he was standing in front of a farmhouse, silently cursing his friend before knocking on the door.

A broadly built man opened the door and eyed Jesper suspiciously. This one tried to keep his easy posture and smile, but he felt himself grow slightly uncomfortable under the gaze of the man.

‘What do you want?’ he asked brusquely.

Jesper swallowed and his hands automatically reached for his hips, finding nothing but air there as he had hid his revolvers in his bag, figuring it wouldn’t be too great of an entrance. He scratched the back of his head and let out a nervous chuckle.

‘I’m Thomas van Dijk,’ he started, wondering if the man would ever believe him. ‘I uhh… I was out with friends—a break from studying, you see? And this morning when I woke up they were gone and they took all transport… so I was wondering if I could perhaps stay here until they pick me up again?’

The man glanced at Jesper for a while. ‘D’you know farm stuff?’ he then asked.

‘Sure,’ Jesper shrugged, figuring that it couldn’t be all too hard.

‘Alright, then,’ the man nodded and stepped aside to let Jesper in, ‘you can stay here for a few days.’

Jesper sighed relieved and walked into the farmhouse, only realising inside that he had had no plan if this hadn’t worked out.

The interior of the house reminded Jesper of his home in Novyi Zem. The walls were painted in a warm colour green and an old rug lay on the stone floor. On the wall in the little hall hung a portrait of a beautiful woman standing in a field of wildflowers. She had long hair framing her face, falling down in curls around her shoulders. The woman looked like she was in her late thirties, but she had a smile that was ageless.

Jesper followed the man into the next room, which was the living and dining area. There was an open door that led to the kitchen, from where Jesper could smell whatever the man was cooking. Another door probably led to a staircase, Jesper figured by the shape of the little space behind it.

The main room was an extension of the hall. The same green coloured the walls here and more paintings hung on the walls. Jesper recognised the woman in more pictures on the wall, and sometimes she was accompanied by a child.

Jesper looked around, wondering where the rest of the household was. Kaz had spoken about more than one person, but so far Jesper had only seen one; and that one was standing right in front of him.

‘You can sit there,’ the man said and pointed at the chairs around the table. ‘You want dinner?’

‘I’d really appreciate that, sir,’ Jesper said and the man nodded before he disappeared into the kitchen.

-=-=-=-=-

The sky was dark and the last rays of the sun were setting behind the horizon when you heard the bell from the kitchen, telling you that dinner was ready.

You always spent so much time outside that your father had given up on trying to find you for dinner. Instead he had installed the bell to let you know when you had to come home, and when you cooked you used it to get your father back home.

You got up from your spot on the ground next to Klara. She was the oldest cow you had at the little farm and she had been your mother’s favourite. However, two nights back Klara had suddenly fallen ill and so far she hadn’t improved yet. You had spent the last two days neglecting your duties at the farm to take care of her. Klara was the one thing that was closest to your mother and you refused to say goodbye to her too.

Silently you slipped from the stables and walked back to the house. There was light burning behind the windows and you saw the silhouette of your father inside, sitting at the dinner table. In a flash you thought you saw your mother there too, but as you blinked the image fell away.

Stepping through the backdoor in the kitchen, you kicked off your boots and shrugged off your coat. Quickly you washed your hands and face and arranged your hair, before you walked into the living area, knowing that your father liked you to not be messy at dinner.

‘Klara’s not any better,’ you said as you walked into the room. ‘She’s just lying still and—’

You stopped talking as your eyes found the stranger at the dining table. He was sitting opposite of your father, looking at you with a smile. The boy could be not much older than you were, but by the way he was clumsily sitting in the chair, you saw that he was a lot taller than you. His dark-skinned body was clothed by a dark green suit with flashy, golden buttons, lined with a silky lime-green fabric. Below his dark eyebrows two eyes glittered merrily and his smile got a little more confident as you sat down at the table.

‘What’s going on?’ you asked your father.

‘This is Thomas,’ your father answered, nodding towards the strange boy. ‘His friends ditched him and he needed a place to stay for a few days. With the situation around Klara, I figured a little help at the farm wouldn’t hurt.’

You stared at your father for a moment and then turned to Thomas. ‘Are you from the city?’

The boy nodded. ‘Yes, I go to the university in Ketterdam.’

‘What happened?’

‘We had a few days off and decided to go on a trip here. But when I woke up this morning my friends had left. I have no transport home and after searching for a place to stay all day, I got here.’

‘Nice friends you have,’ you mumbled and something in the boy’s face turned bitter.

‘Don’t get me started,’ Thomas said and then he smiled at you.

-=-=-=-=-

Jesper was woken early by a heavy, pounding headache. The sky outside was pink from the sunrise and with the figures of the trees and houses it looked like a painting to Jesper—one that was far more beautiful than the one he stole from Rover.

As he rolled over in his bed and reached for his temples, it didn’t take long for Jesper to realise that it wasn’t his head that was pounding—there was someone at the door of the room. Groaning Jesper sat up in his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the sleeve of the shirt that he had borrowed to sleep in.

‘Coming, coming,’ Jesper groaned when the knocking kept going.

He opened the door and was met with your eager face, painted with a big smile. You chuckled at Jesper and shook your head. ‘Come on, Thomas! Work doesn’t wait!’

Just for a split second Jesper was confused as to why you called him Thomas, but then he realised that the whole show he was putting up here was nothing more than that; a show. You didn’t know who he really was and, if he was honest, Jesper did feel a little guilty about it. You were so kind to him and he hadn’t even given you his real name.

This was not the time for morale questions, however, and Jesper shook the guilt off him. ‘Right,’ he said slowly and then glanced into his room, finding the bag he had dumped on the floor. He had not brought anything other than his guns, the clothes he had been wearing and a little money. ‘Do you perhaps have some clothes I can borrow?’

Half an hour later, Jesper was standing in the stables next to the house with a buttered slice of bread in his hand. He was wearing a linen blouse and trousers of rough material that you had given him. He felt naked without his guns resting on his hips, but taking them with him had been out of the question. Now he felt like the Jesper he had been before he had gone to Ketterdam—poor, weak and unskilled.

You came back with a large sack in your arms, that you dumped into Jesper’s arms. He stumbled under the sudden weight, but managed to keep his balance.

‘My dad’s out on the fields today, so we have to take care of the stables,’ you said. ‘If you feed the chickens, I’ll do the goats and then we’ll get together again, okay? Don’t forget the eggs!’

You turned around and walked off and Jesper was left baffled. Unsure, he turned and walked to the chicken coop, finding a bunch of chickens there. A fat, white one looked up when Jesper stood over the coop and cooed softly. The chicken kept staring at him as he walked around the fence and Jesper slowly began to freak a little.

He put his hand in the bag with food and grabbed a handful of seeds that he threw as far away from him in the chicken coop as possible. All the chickens rushed to the food—including the fat, white one—and Jesper quickly stepped over the fence and lowered to his knees so he could reach into the henhouse. He was met with the angry eyes of another chicken that was still sitting inside the house. She pecked at Jesper’s hand while he tried to find the eggs that you wanted.

When he finally pulled back, he had found six eggs. His hand was throbbing and even bleeding at some places. As fast as he could he walked away from the chicken coop back to the stables, where he dropped the sack with food on the ground and sat down next to it, examining his hand.

After a few minutes you came back from the goats and the smile on your face changed to worry when you saw Jesper sitting defeated on the ground.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked.

Jesper quickly jumped up and nodded, hiding his hand behind his back. He forced a smile on his face and tried to look excited at you. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’

You squeezed your eyes at him but dropped the subject. ‘Okay, if you say so,’ you mumbled and then nodded your head to the back of the stables. ‘We have to check on Klara again before we go on.’

‘Klara?’ Jesper asked.

You walked off to the back and Jesper followed you, ending up at a dark stable where a big cow was lying on the ground, breathing deeply. She had her eyes closed and Jesper thought she was asleep, but when you stepped into the space, the cow opened her eyes and looked up at you.

‘This is Klara,’ you unnecessarily explained. ‘She is our oldest cow, but it’s not looking so good for her now.’

You lowered to your knees and rested your hand on top of Klara’s head. The cow closed her eyes at the feeling and let out a deep breath. You closed your eyes momentarily and as a troubled shadow crossed your face Jesper realised that Klara wasn’t just another animal at the farm to you.

‘Will she be alright again?’ Jesper asked, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the stable.

‘I really don’t know,’ you sighed and you looked up at Jesper with sad eyes. ‘She’s not worse than yesterday, but also not any better.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jesper said and he tried to give you a reassuring smile.

You got up from the ground and gave Jesper a little smile back. ‘Thank you.’

-=-=-=-=-

Later that afternoon Jesper was sitting with you in the shadows of the house, looking out over the fields that surrounded the farm. Somewhere far in the distance he could see the figure of your father, as a little black silhouette against the bright light of the sun.

Jesper was exhausted. Although he considered himself in good shape, the work on the farm was completely different from what he usually did in Ketterdam. Normally he would crouch, run and hide, but today he had had to use brute force and the running had only applied when one of the goats had gone after him.

‘And,’ you said as you handed Jesper a glass of water, ‘how do you like it here?’

‘I’m so tired,’ he whined dramatically and you laughed, throwing your head back. ‘But it looks beautiful here. I like it—reminds me of home.’

‘Where’s home?’

Jesper hesitated for a moment, considering where his actual home was.

‘I grew up in Novyi Zem, on a jurda farm,’ he told you, while staring out at the fields. ‘My dad still lives there, works on the farm now that I… am going to the university in Ketterdam…’

Carefully Jesper looked aside after his slip-up, but you hadn’t caught it. With your legs tucked to your chest and your arms wrapped around them, you were sitting in the chair, taking in the sunlight with your eyes closed. There was a soft golden glow on your face from the sun and the point of your nose glistened.

‘...I guess that’s my home now,’ Jesper continued. ‘Ketterdam.’

‘Hmm,’ you hummed softly before you opened your eyes and looked at Jesper. ‘What’s it like? To live there?’

‘You’ve never been to Ketterdam?’

‘I have, but never for a long time,’ you said, giving Jesper an innocent smile.

‘It’s… busy, noisy, crowded. There’s people everywhere, at all times of the day. When it’s hot the canals stink and when it rains the entire city turns grey. The rich people are mean and the poor are gross. It’s never safe and there’s a lot of crime.’ Jesper stopped talking to take a breath and noticed you were watching him with a raised eyebrow. Then he smirked. ‘It’s amazing.’

You leaned back in your chair and huffed. ‘I think I prefer the silence of the country.’

‘I get that. On my first day in Ketterdam I wondered how I could ever live there. I was sick with longing for home and the farm.’

‘What happened?’

Jesper grimaced. ‘I got a taste of real life.’

You waited for Jesper to continue, but he said nothing. He couldn’t really, not if he wanted to obey Kaz’s orders. Again he felt bad for you, for lying to you. You were so kind to him and all he did was lie about who he was; you didn’t even know his real name.

-=-=-=-=-

You stepped out of your room while the sun wasn’t even up yet. The house was silent and dark, but you could easily find your way to the room you were headed for. This was the house you grew up in and you knew every secret hidden in every dark corner.

‘Time to wake up!’ you said through the door and you knocked shortly.

Yesterday, Thomas hadn’t been of great use with your animals, but you hoped that today he would. He had told you that he had grown up on a jurda farm so you figured fieldwork wouldn’t be as hard on him as the goats.

There was a grunt from inside the room and you had to stifle a laugh. Once again you knocked—a little harder this time—and the grunt from inside came back louder. Yet there was little movement in the room and you rolled your eyes and grumbled something about lazy rich boys from stupid universities, before you threw the door open.

‘What—hey!’ Thomas cried out. ‘I said I was coming!’

‘Sounded a lot more like you’d just roll over again,’ you said, leaning against the doorpost with your arms crossed.

Thomas murmured something incomprehensible and he threw the blankets off of him. ‘If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked, you know?’ he smirked as he swung his legs off the bed and stretched his arms over his head.

‘Hmm, if only I wanted,’ you shot back, but you couldn’t keep your eyes from gazing at his chest anyway. It was dark, but your eyes had gotten used to the darkness enough to be able to see the lines and shapes of Thomas’ bare body. There was no denying his fitness, but what caught your attention more were the scars littered over his torso. From small, almost innocent lines to light-coloured circles and dents. For the simple student he claimed to be, he had an awfully damaged body.

You averted your eyes from his chest and shook your head. How this boy’s body looked was none of your business, so there was no point of dwelling on it. Yet, as you turned around to leave the room, you found yourself fighting the urge to get closer and feel his body under your hands.

‘You like waffles?’ you asked over your shoulder, seeing a big smile break on the half-naked boy’s face.

-=-=-=-=-

Your father had worked on the fields yesterday, and most work had been done already. All there was left for you and Thomas to do was harvest the potatoes on the last piece of land and then sort them with the rest. It was heavy, dull work and you were glad there was someone to help you.

Thomas and you were bent over the crops, working opposite of each other on a row of potatoes. The sun was shining on your back fiercely and you felt it burning on your neck. It was long too late to prevent the sweat from breaking out and you felt hot and sticky.

Opposite of you, Thomas wasn’t doing much better. Little droplets of sweat were rolling down his temples and the shirt he was wearing was soaked with his sweat. Yet there seemed to be some sort of glow around him, like he was energetic still—even after the hours of labour.

It was late in the afternoon when you pulled out the last of the potatoes. You and Thomas dropped down on the grass on the edge of the field, both sighing with relief that the hard work was over.

‘Only sorting left,’ Thomas said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. ‘How long will that take?’

You squeezed your eyes against the afternoon sun as you looked at the boy next to you and shrugged. ‘About two hours, I guess.’

‘Two hours in this heat is an eternity,’ Thomas stated.

‘We could do it tonight,’ you suggested. ‘After dinner, when it has cooled a bit.’

‘And what do we do until then?’

You shot Thomas a cheeky smile and got up from the ground. ‘I have an idea.’

You led Thomas through the sunny fields and over the meadows around the farm, ignoring the sunshine in your face. Eventually you slowed at large bushes and a few trees and you smiled at the boy before you pushed aside some branches and stepped out into an open spot with a small lake.

Thomas burst out in laughter and turned to you with a big smile on his face.

‘Last one in the water has to get the other drinks!’ he shouted as he threw off his shirt.

You followed after him, stepping out of your shoes and trousers. As you ran towards the water you took off your shirt, throwing it somewhere behind you on the grass. You pushed off on the side and wrapped your arms around your legs as you jumped into the water next to Thomas with a cheer.

The cold water engulfed your entire body and you happily welcomed it after the whole day of sun. Gasping for air when your head reached above the water again, you turned to Thomas.

‘You were last!’ he exclaimed.

‘Only because you were already in the water when you said it!’ you defended yourself and splashed water towards Thomas.

‘Still counts!’

He pushed water back and you closed your eyes against the waves. Water dripped down your hair and face, getting stuck in your eyelashes. You blinked the drops away and swam a little closer to Thomas.

Planning to create a huge wave, you lowered your hands in the water, when you felt something slimy slither past your foot. You squealed and leaped into Thomas’ arms, almost drowning him with the sudden weight. Terrified you scanned the water around you, looking for the thing you had felt.

‘What’s wrong?’ Thomas asked, trying to keep you in his arms while staying above the water.

‘I felt something!’ you squeaked, still looking around you.

‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of fish,’ Thomas laughed.

‘I am not! I just freaked because I—’ you started but stopped when you quit looking and found yourself very close to Thomas.

That same deep urge as this morning crawled inside your mind before you could stop it. Despite yourself you admired the simple beauty of the face so close to yours. This boy had something enchanting, and it was more than just his jokes and smirks. Something about him made you want to cling onto him and not let go.

You did let go, however, and quickly swam back to the side in silence. Thomas followed you and climbed on the grass, offering you a hand so you could get out of the water yourself.

As you got dressed—with some difficulty because you were both still wet—far in the distance you heard the sound of a bell, telling you that dinner was ready.

‘Finally,’ Thomas said, as he pulled his shirt over his head. ‘I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t eat at all.’

-=-=-=-=-

Jesper was sitting alone at the back of the house with two large baskets of potatoes in front of him. Luckily it had cooled down and it was now pleasant to sit outside.

You stepped out of the house with a tray in your arms. Two glasses of lemonade and a plate of biscuits stood on the tray that you put down on the ground between Jesper and you, before you sat down yourself.

‘How generous of you,’ Jesper started, as he took the glass. ‘Almost like you didn’t lose the race.’

You shook your eyes as you took a biscuit, which you used to point at Jesper. ‘That race wasn’t fair, and you know it.’

‘Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.’

You rolled your eyes but there was a smile on your face nevertheless. Then you nodded towards the baskets.

‘Two piles,’ you said. ‘One with small potatoes and one with normal and large.’

You took out a few potatoes and showed Jesper how to determine the size. He got on quickly and you were already starting on the second basket when your father called you away.

Jesper continued on his own while admiring the sunset he always missed in Ketterdam. He loved living in the city and wouldn’t want it any other way, but in moments like these he did miss his old home. He missed the simplicity of life back then, of knowing exactly what was going to happen in your day. Living in the city, living with the Dregs, had taken that certainty from Jesper.

The sun had almost completely set when you came back and the last rays of sunshine reflected in the tears on your face. You sat down with a sigh next to Jesper and before he could ask you what was wrong, you burst into sobs.

Before thinking, Jesper dropped the potato in his hand and crawled to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to his chest. He didn’t know where the action came from or why he did it, but seeing you so heartbroken hurt Jesper’s own heart.

You buried your face in Jesper’s neck and he wrapped his arms a little tighter around you. He could feel your quivering breaths on his skin and your tears soaked his shirt but he didn’t care.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered and pressed a kiss on the top of your head without a second thought. ‘Let it out. It’s alright.’

After a while your tears stopped and your quivering breath changed for hiccoughs. You lifted your head from Jesper’s shoulder and looked at him with an apologetic look, that he discarded immediately.

‘Don’t even dare to apologise,’ he said and you laughed softly. Jesper wiped the tears from your face and cradled your head in his hands. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Klara,’ you said as Jesper dropped his hands from your face to your hands. ‘My dad went looking at her and she’s doing even worse than before. I know she’s just a cow and everything, but she’s the strongest connection I have to my mother and I just…’

You looked up at Jesper and smiled sadly. ‘I don’t know, it probably sounds weird.’

Jesper shook his head and gave your hand a little squeeze.

‘It doesn’t sound weird,’ he said, thinking of how he had clung to the littlest thing of his mother after she had passed.

You sniffed and smiled at Jesper. ‘Thanks.’

‘Of course,’ he said, as he sat back next to you, taking a new potato in his hand.

You followed his example and for a while you worked in silence, until Jesper took the last potato from the basket and threw it on the pile left of him. He turned to you and found you staring at the dark sky.

‘What was your mother like?’ he asked finally, giving in to his curiosity.

‘She was perfect,’ you said and you smiled faintly ahead of you. ‘She was caring, kind and smart. She kept things going around here. There is not much to do, but she always made sure I was never bored.’

You laughed shortly and turned to Jesper. ‘Perhaps I’m a little biased; she was my mother after all.’

‘Maybe,’ Jesper said and he gave you a smile. ‘But you’re allowed. Who better than kids to judge a parent?’

‘She was beautiful too,’ you added. ‘Did you see the paintings? My dad used to paint a lot, but since my mother passed away he hasn’t picked up a brush. It’s a shame, I think he’s really talented.’

Jesper nodded. He had wondered why the paintings had only been of the woman young, but she hadn’t aged anymore after that.

Now that the sun had set, the warm air slowly turned cold. Jesper fought the urge to wrap his arms around his own body. He looked at you and noticed the goose bumps on your arms too. He got up and offered you his hand.

‘Come on, let’s go inside,’ he said. ‘It’s freezing out here.’

You took Jesper’s hand and followed him to the backdoor of the house. When you walked past the path that led to the stables, you slowed and pulled lightly on Jesper’s hand.

‘Can we…?’ you asked and before you had finished your sentence Jesper nodded.

‘Of course.’

The stables were warmer than outside and though Jesper still hadn’t gotten used to the smell he much rather be there than outside. He much rather be there with you than alone in his bed.

Klara lay in the back and you let go of Jesper’s hand to rush over to her. You dropped to your knees next to the cow and wrapped your arms around her. Big tears rolled down your cheeks and the soft sound of your crying filled the barn.

Jesper sat down in a pile of dried hay and stared at his hands as he listened. After a while your crying stopped and only the heavy breaths of Klara could be heard. Feet shuffled and when Jesper looked up you weren’t sitting next to the sick animal anymore but next to him.

Your cheeks were still wet from the tears, but you managed to give Jesper a little smile. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. Slowly he leaned back in the hay until his back found support and he was almost lying down.

Without needing more words, you pulled your legs on the hay and settled against Jesper’s body. With one hand to your own chest and the other rising and falling with the motion of Jepser’s chest, you quickly fell asleep.

Jesper glanced down at you and almost got unwell by the sense of comfort that washed over him. The longer he looked at you the more that little bubble of guilt in his stomach grew, but before he could do anything about it the hard work of the day took its toll on him and he dozed off.

-=-=-=-=-

You woke up in a pile of hay by something that was nudging your leg. Slowly and grumbling against the bright morning light you opened your eyes to find a cow standing in front of you.

‘Klara!’ you cried out and the happiness that filled you at seeing she had recovered during the night drowned out all the sleep left in your system.

You jumped up and stumbled to the cow, throwing your arms around her neck. A few tears of happiness escaped your eyes and they dropped down on Klara. After last night you really didn’t think she would recover anymore, let alone be standing on her own feet.

As you hugged Klara, you suddenly remembered that you hadn’t been alone last night. You let go of the cow and returned to the hay you had woken up in. Instead of the boy you had fallen asleep against last night now lay a little note.

Good morning sleepyhead,

My friends finally picked me up early this morning and you looked too peaceful to be disturbed. I want to thank you and your father for letting me stay at your humble farm. It did me good to be out of the city for a while. I want to thank you as well for your company and honesty. I really hope Klara gets better—she seems quite cool.

I know you don’t like the city, but if you ever accidentally find yourself there and you miss my sparkling presence, go to The Crow Club and ask the bartender for Jesper Fahey. They’ll know who to find.

Take care,

Thomas

- - - - - - - -

taglist: @is-it-really-a-secret @mrs-brekker15

MASTERLIST

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey #jesper x reader #fahey x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #crows x reader #the crows x reader #soc #shadow and bone imagine

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kino-alternative · 4 years ago

Text

“ This will be a long one! Also, trying angst, so uhh . . Don't be surprised if it's bad! ” ( Inspired by: The Story Of Evil )

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

“ The Servant ”

Keywords: Y/N- Your Name, T/N- Twin's Name ( Your twin is a girl )

Notes:

This is a Nagito Komaeda X Reader.

This will obvious have SPOILERS for the game. Specifically, the whole Danganronpa: Goodbye Despair game.

Reader's Gender-Neutral. Also suggest listening to “ Daughter of Evil ” “ Servant of Evil ” and “ No Regrets ”.

0: 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 -

Y/N L/N was a part of the Future Foundation, 14th division. While their twin sister, T/N who was the Ultimate Queen ( Originally Princess but a certain blonde already took the title ), was a Remnant of Despair along with the rest of their class.

It pained the twin to see their other being controlled by the strawberry blonde fashionista. Especially since they had to capture her themselves.

After running the program, Y/N decided to enter as a secret agent of the Future Foundation to help the two others when needed. It hurts knowing the truth but they were glad to see everyone before the tragedy struck.

Their dear twin sister was indeed a troublemaker and others even say she's ‘ evil ’ due to her cruel and awful personality, but of course as - not only her twin - her loyal servant ever since they were reunited, Y/N stood by the girl's side.

There was also another that they treasure, Nagito Komaeda,The Ultimate Lucky Student. Yes, even knowing how he is, he managed to make them fall for him. It was interesting really, since T/N isn't really fond of him ( Most of them don't ). But their was something about him that made them feel . . . Loved. Not platonically.

Y/N and their friends, their fellow survivors of the first killing game, had thought everything would go smoothly.

Sadly, that was not the case. That's the reason why I said ‘ first ’ after all. Y/N had failed to protect the Ex-Remnants of Despair from Monokuma's sick game. They could only think of him being the reason the virus entered in the first place.

Three trials. Three blackeneds. Four victims. It was awful. They hated the fact they had to go through another killing game. Now here they are, starving in two fruit-based buildings. Unfortunately, that was not the only motive the despair loving bear had planned.

1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫.

“ Upuhuhuhu! That's right! T/N is an agent working for me! ” Monokuma announced to the eleven remaining students. Everyone's eyes widen as they all looked at the said girl with shock and anger.

She took a step back, almost stepping on the skirt of her dress as she clicked her tongue and gritted her teeth. “ Seriously!? You peasants believe him!? ” She asked with a glare.

“ How can we not? You're basically . . Evil! ” Kazuichi exclaimed, hiding behind Mechamaru to avoid the girl's glare. Everyone agreed with what he said. T/N was definitely cruel and awful, how did she managed to get her Ultimate anyway?

“ Silence! You shall not call them ‘ peasants ’! ” Sonia ordered with a stern look on her pretty face. The young queen scoffed, crossed her arms and looked away “ Isn't that what we call others below us, your highness? ”

“ I mean, as despairing as it sounds . . Monokuma hasn't lied to us ” Nagito pointed out, to which T/N replied - “ Hush, you hope obsessed freak! ”

But it seems like everyone seemed to believe it's true.

“ You asked for me, your majesty? ” Y/N entered the deluxe room of Grape House. There, at the desk, was their twin who's eyes were shining with anger. “ That damned bear . . Those peasants . . ” She began to curse under her breath as she stabbed a certain area on the map.

“ I will make him pay for ratting me out ”

The elder twin sighed and walked up to her, placing a blanket they grabbed from the bed over her shoulders. “ It is getting late, you should rest. Some sleep should give you energy for now ”

T/N whined but listened nonetheless. As soon as the girl plopped onto bed, she was out like a candle light. Y/N smiled softly and kissed her forehead, bidding her goodnight before leaving the room.

“ That devil shall not live to see the light of day . Not after she poisoned us with her thorns ”

“ A body has been discovered! ”

Two. Two victims. One was a destroyed robot and the other was a stabbed with gunshots H/C girl. That's right. The victims were Mechamaru Nidai and T/N L/N.

2.1: 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞.

Nagito knew something was off.

The moment he saw his hope, Y/N, he knew that they were hiding something. And that something was indeed shocking. “ Ah, I apologise for not introducing myself earlier . . I'm Y/N L/N, the Ultimate Servant ”

That was a lie.

After completing the final dead room, he got his prize. It was files about them. Not only did he found out that Hajime was talentless and was a reserve course student, but his dear hope, his true love of his life, Y/N was not only talentless, but an agent of the Future Foundation.

He was upset but understood Y/N's reason. But for some reason . . He can't help but feel like he missed something.

2.2: 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭.

After the trial . .

“ That's right! The blackened who killed T/N L/N and destroyed Mechamaru Nidai isss . . . Gundham Tanaka, the Ultimate Breeder! AHAHAHA! ” Monokuma cackled as everyone looked at the breeder, who seemed to be prepared for the up-coming punishment.

Despair was painted on everyone's faces, a few tried to hide it. But one let out the pain that was weighing their down, slamming their hands on their podium which surprised them.

Tears streamed down their face as they asked, “ Why did you choose to murder her!? Why in the brutal way!? ” Their voice cracked from the sobs that came after the question. They knew that the H/C haired servant would be upset, but it was shocking to see them break down so . . Easily.

But . . Come to think of it . . They weren't acting like themselves. They usually back Hajime up with no hesitation but during the trial, they kept their mouth shut. Like they're scared to say something wrong or spill information.

Gundham replied while looking away, “ Mechamaru did not deserve death . . But that daughter who's lord is a devil did. She was a demon and lived in the depths of darkness ” ‘ Y/N ’ 's eyes widen those words, their grip tightening.

“ That's right . . I deserved to die ” Everyone looked at them with confusion as they straighten their posture “ It's my fault they died . . ” Placing a hand on her chest, she exclaimed “ So pin the blame on me! ”

Then it finally hit. This wasn't Y/N . . This was T/N. If that's the case then . .

Nagito lowered his head and whispered, “ Y/N's gone . . ”

Knock Knock ** Click.

“ Y/N, you're here! Good news, I have an idea on how to prevent . . Huh? ” T/N turned around to see her twin that was wearing her clothes and their hair down like hairs. They looked identical to her. “ Why are you . . ? ”

They only smiled and gave her their clothes, a letter was placed on top of it. “ I actually have a plan of my own, dear sister ” T/N's eyes widen in sudden realization, “ You don't mean . . I will not allow it! Besides, that damned bear would know! ” She exclaimed, her eyes glistening.

Y/N shook their head and placed the clothes on the bed. After that, they put their hands on her shoulders with a firm yet gentle grip. “ I already took care of that issue ” “ But- ” “ Listen now my dear, you and I will switch and you will be me. It is fine, we're twins and I'll be here to take the strike ”

They wiped away her tears with their thumbs and kissed her forehead, “ They won't know because we look alike ” Y/N stood on the original position their twin was in as T/N hesitantly switched clothes. “ B-But what about Nagito!? Surely, he'll miss you! A-And I'm the devil here! I'm the demon! Not you! ”

Their smile saddens, “ . . . ” They knew how the pale luckster likes to pin the blame on his luck and himself. But they already wrote to him in advance. They hoped it would help him in some way. Y/N truly love the luckster just as much as they love their twin sister. But they live to serve their sister, even if it kills them. Even after knowing everything the other's don't.

Dodging the first question, they replied with closed eyes “ If the devil's your lord as they all curse your name . . Then I am a demon too, for we have the same blood ” As soon as T/N finished dressing, they pulled her outside and ordered “ Now go, don't look back and be free ”

The twin sister hesitates before turning away and acted like they had a normal conversation, holding back the tears as the cameras assumed she was the other. Y/N watched her leave before closing the door, leaving it unlocked and sat on the chair while watching the fire on the candle dance.

“ If the day comes that we are reborn once again, it'll be nice to play with you ” They could hear the footsteps “ I'm sorry for leaving you Nagito . . But until then . . ”

* Creak!

Glaring at the breeder, they asked ( sounding like their twin ) “ How dare you, you pest!? ”

Watching the execution was painful, like always. T/N handed the letter to Nagito before leaving the trial room “ . . They wanted you to have this ”

3: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

“ My Dearest Nagito,

I am guessing that T/N gave you this after revealing the truth, correct? But, that is not the point.

I know what you're thinking.

You're blaming yourself again, are you not? You blame your luck. You regret letting me get close to you.

But you shouldn't.

Yes, I have broken our promise. And I truly am sorry but I will never regret getting close to you. I'm sorry for leaving you behind so early.

And I know you may think you have nothing to live for but please, live and fight the despair.

That's what you tell me, right?

A daily reminder that you are not useless nor worthless, you are more than that. You're more than just a stepping stone. Don't be afraid to acknowledge that, even if you don't believe it.

Can you do me a favor? If it's alright.

End this killing game for me. I know you know about the files but that's the past. The future is still out there, right? So please, live and end this killing game with the others.

It seems like I'm running out of ink, so let me say this one last time, alright?

I truly and deeply love you, Nagito Komaeda. Please do remember that. Even after what you did, I can not help but love you. So, if the day comes where we are reborn, I'll gladly fall for you all over again.

I'll die with only one regret. And that is, I wasn't able to protect you.

- Signed, Y/N L/N <3 ”

4: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡.

“ Please, wake up ”

Y/N slowly opened their eyes, trying to figure out where they were and what was going on. But as soon as they sat up, they were pulled into a hug. “ Y/N! You're awake! ” “ T/N . . ? What . . ? ” Their gaze then landed on Nagito who stood beside Hajime.

Then it snapped, they hugged back and smiled “ So you did it . . I'm so glad ” They whispered as T/N pulled away and Nagito walked up to them. Tears finally streamed down his cheeks as he held both of their hands and leaned his forehead on theirs. “ You're here . . ”

Y/N kissed his nose, “ Everything's alright, I'm here, you're here, we're here. Safe and sound ”

Everything turned out to be great in the end. T/N slowly warmed up to everyone. They're working with the Future Foundation on Jabberwock Island. And all is good.

Arms wrapped around their waste as the luckster placed his chin on their shoulder, playing with the ring on their finger. With a content sigh, he says “ I love you ”

Yes, everything has it's flaws but nonetheless it was perfect to them.

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

“ I hope you all enjoyed it! Angst isn't really my strong suit but hey, I'll get better at it! ( I was originally going to put a bad ending, but I'll make that someday ) ”

- Sincerely, Mizuki Kioku.

#nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #dr nagito #nagito #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #sdr2 goodbye despair #nagito imagines #inspired by: story of evil #queen of despair servant of hope #twins

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northofdespair · 4 years ago

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Well. This was going to be a 500-character anonymous ask. I had no plans of using this forgotten Tumblr account. And then I wrote 2k in one sitting this afternoon.

So, Clem, this is for you! Hats off for drawing me out of the abyss to pen a little pseudo-fic for my favorite pairing of all time. Forgive (m)any mistakes and the informal style, I suppose I really could have refined it, but I wanted to get this out here before it went to collect dust with the rest of my 30k+ of Obikin WIPs due to crippling perfectionism. 😅 I will say it’s a bit angsty and a departure from Anakin finding Obi-Wan’s fighting nothing but sexy… there is nothing to say he didn’t in the past, but my brain just went on auto-pilot and this is what happened. Hope you get a little enjoyment out of it anyways! 😘

For those of you who have not read it yet, you’ll get a lot more out of this post if you read @obiwanobi’s posts here, here, here, and here. <3

~*~

So Fight Club AU, right? What if Ahsoka and Anakin make their way down to the lower levels, following a lead on their latest undercover assignment. They decide to split up to search for what they’re looking for and Ahsoka soon finds herself weaving through the cheering and jeering crowds of a club that is far too loud and flashy. She peeks curiously over the tops of various creatures’ heads to see what they’re shouting about and sees a human and a Devaronian trading blows. A fight, whatever. They happen all the time in the lower leve-IS THAT MASTER KENOBI?!

That is DEFINITELY Master Kenobi and boy, she’s never been one to rat out fellow Jedi, but even if he’s grinning like a madman, he is hurt, and oh she is getting Anakin right now, because she doesn’t know exactly what to do, and Force knows that if Obi-Wan will listen to anyone, it’s Anakin. He’s not far away, and when she drags him into the club, he goes a little pale at the sight of Obi-Wan in the ring, standing victoriously over his opponent.

She thinks that he’s going to go get him, pull him aside and do something to fix this, but suddenly someone else in the crowd spots him. Suddenly the cheers and taunts are directed at Anakin, and Ahsoka has no idea what the kriff is happening. All at once Anakin is being pulled and pushed, and then both of her Masters are in the ring, eyeing each other up and down and squaring off. Obi-Wan flirts with Anakin as though he expected him to be there, as though he were an enemy, and her jaw drops as Anakin flirts back. Anakin quickly glances at Ahsoka over the crowd, and they begin.

It is both everything and nothing like watching them spar at the Temple. She sees all the ways in which they are familiar with each other’s strengths and weaknesses, but here the graceful arcs of lightsabers have been traded for brutal, bare-knuckled blows. They sweep under and over each other, deftly avoiding blows as much as landing them, and the crowd loves it. She spares a glance at the bookie, who looks like the tooka that caught the mouse-droid.

As the fight goes on, Ahsoka realizes two things.

One, this is not the first time that they have fought in this ring. Even for Jedi–an identity that they are suppressing extremely well considering the circumstances–they are altogether too at ease with the brutal hand-to-hand combat. The way they dance around each other and strike viperously quick would be beautiful if it weren’t so horrible. It is certainly awe-striking, and while all Jedi are trained in hand-to-hand, she’s never seen them fight like this.

Two, Obi-Wan is incredible. Anakin is holding his own and powerful in his own right, but even after knocking that Devarionian to the floor, bruised, bleeding, and tired, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a force to be reckoned with.

In a flurry of movement, Obi-Wan pins Anakin to the ground, just managing to overpower his former student despite his injuries. Ahsoka can barely see over the crowd as he sits on top of his Padawan, then offers him a hand up. She can’t discern their expressions, but they do not say anything to each other and make their way out of the ring, going in vaguely the same direction.

Ahsoka presses her lips together and follows Anakin to demand what in Sith Hells just happened. Suddenly the mysterious bruises that Anakin had started showing up with–the ones that he thought he was hiding well–make some sort of surreal sense.

She catches up to him in an abandoned alleyway seven blocks or so away from the club and opens her mouth to lay into him, but before she can draw breath, Obi-Wan’s figure melts out of the shadows from the other direction. Neither man has seen her, and something about the intense look on Obi-Wan’s face makes her slip into the shadows herself.

She has to slap a hand over her mouth to tamp down on a surprised squeak a second later as Obi-Wan takes Anakin by the shoulders, slams him into the wall, and kisses him hard. Anakin kisses him back, hands coming up to scrabble at Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and breaks the kiss to get out,

“Wait, Obi-Wan,“ he gasps as Obi-Wan bites at his neck and Ahsoka wants to flee, but she feels rooted in place. “Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, she- hhhn- stop, would you?” He finally brings his hand to the side of Obi-Wan’s face, catching his attention for long enough to realize that he’s serious, if a little dazed. “Ahsoka saw us fight.”

His voice is quiet, but Ahsoka has always had good hearing, even for a Togruta. Obi-Wan freezes, and the two stare at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily into each other’s space.

“She led me to you because you were hurt,” Anakin whispers, and the tender concern on his face as he brushes a thumb over Obi-Wan’s swollen cheekbone is enough to cause Ahsoka to avert her gaze.

“Anakin, you know-“ Obi-Wan’s voice is different from any time she’s ever heard it, deep and rumbling with an emotion she doesn’t... quite want to think about, but Anakin cuts him off.

“I know, Master. I know. But she was worried, and I don’t... think she was wrong to be,” it comes out hesitant, and she looks up to find that Anakin looks like he’s prepared to flinch away from a blow.

Before tonight, Ahsoka never would have thought that her Grandmaster was capable of dealing any such hit to Anakin, but Anakin’s split lip and blackened eye prove her wrong. She still can’t believe it, and her heart tells her that even now he would never hit Anakin outside of the ring or the training salles, but it’s a hard thought to reconcile with as her Master stands before her with such prominent injuries.

Obi-Wan stares at Anakin again before sighing softly. “You don’t want to fight. You don’t want me to fight,” he says, and it’s a flattened-out question. Anakin bites his lip, wincing at the painful reminder of the cut there.

“Not- not like this,” he whispers. “Obi-Wan, I... I know that this is an escape from everything. I’m not saying it’s even bad, Force, I’d be one hell of a kriffing hypocrite to tell you that. I know I’ve given in to my own methods of escape, but Master, I-“ His voice cracks and he breaks off, working his jaw as he stares at Obi-Wan with an expression so open that it hurts. “I have you now, and you’re- you’re all I ever wanted. You’re all I need. Obi-Wan, if I’m not- if I’m not enough, then tell me how-“

Obi-Wan cuts him off with a kiss, raking his fingers through Anakin’s golden curls and holding him there. Anakin’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a whimper from the back of his throat, and Ahsoka has to avert her gaze once more. She’s intruding on something so viscerally personal, but she still cannot command her feet to move.

So she listens to the sound of lips parting for little kisses that make a larger whole, that bring a low moan from Obi-Wan’s throat in answer to Anakin’s desperate pitch. She listens until they part, and then risks a glance up at her Masters.

They are somehow closer than before, foreheads resting together with their eyes shut, breathing each other in as Obi-Wan strokes Anakin’s hair and Anakin shivers.

“Dear one,” Obi-Wan whispers. “You are enough. I… was afraid, my love.” Anakin’s eyes open in shock as the confession falls from Obi-Wan’s lips. “I was afraid that this... was the only way I could have you. It’s different down here. What happens here stays here, and I thought-“

“Obi-Wan. I only ever came down here in the first place because I want you. All the time. Force, I want you so badly it hurts. I don’t want this to stay here. I- do you really-“

“Yes.”

Anakin chokes a laugh and fixes Obi-Wan with a fondly exasperated look. “You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he accuses, resting his head back on the wall.

Obi-Wan leans forward to pursue him, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, then another directly on his lips. “I do, darling. Of course I do.”

And as Ahsoka watches Anakin’s expression change from incredulity, to wonder, to overwhelmed adoration, she knows that her Grandmaster was not simply speaking of knowing the question that never left her Master’s lips.

“Me too,” Anakin whispers, voice thick, and Ahsoka can see the shape of Obi-Wan’s grin even from the severe angle that her perspective offers.

Anakin smiles back and flinches again as his lip pulls taut. Obi-Wan hums and reaches up to brush his thumb over the wound.

“Not a good look on you, is it, darling,” he remarks.

Anakin scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully.

“You should see the other guy,” he smirks.

“Ha, ha,” Obi-Wan intones dryly, and Anakin laughs.

They sober quickly, and Ahsoka holds her breath as the air and the Force around them seems to charge once more. She knows by the look on Anakin’s face that he’s working towards saying something, and Obi-Wan runs bloodied fingers through his curls in patient strokes.

“I won’t tell you to stop,” Anakin finally speaks quietly, looking down between them.

“But you want me to,” Obi-Wan matches his volume and sincerity.

After a moment, Anakin nods quietly, still averting his gaze from Obi-Wan’s face. Her Grandmaster lifts Anakin’s chin with a gentle hand, and their gazes meet once again.

“I meant it when I said you are enough, my dear. This habit... if I’m honest, it started when I failed to release certain feelings into the Force. The fighting cleared my mind and it was a good physical release. I don’t need it. Not if I have you.”

Anakin’s eyes grow wide, and Ahsoka thinks that she sees tears glimmering in his eyes in the low light.

“The Code, Master,” he croaks softly.

Obi-Wan shakes his head and strokes Anakin’s chin before tapping it lightly and resting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We’re good at that, you and I. And we shan’t break the Code if we’re simply in a relationship, you know that.”

Anakin squeezes his eyes shut, and tears at last track down his cheeks. “It’s not just a relationship. Not to me. I- I love you, Master. I’m atta- attached. I’ve struggled with this all my life and I can’t let go. Of you, or Ahsoka.”

Her heart skips a beat at her name, then warms with a sad fondness for her Master. Oh, Anakin... he really thinks that Obi-Wan doesn’t know? That she doesn’t know? They do and they love him right back just the same. Ahsoka hadn’t truly known about the nature of her Masters’ feelings for each other before tonight, but she had suspected. Both she and Obi-Wan love Anakin with all their hearts.

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan pulls him into his arms, and Anakin clings to him desperately and buries his face in his throat. “Dearest, love is no trespass, and attachment can be conquered. It is a part of human nature. It is nothing to fear. I am sorry I ever led you to believe otherwise, Padawan.”

Anakin gasps a single, muffled sob into Obi-Wan’s throat, and his Master presses a kiss to the top of his head. They stay like that for a while, rocking slightly back and forth and holding each other tightly until Anakin’s breathing evens out.

“You’ll stop fighting, then?” Anakin asks softly.

“Yes, dearest. I’ll stop,” comes the quiet affirmation. “And Anakin,” he steps back slightly so they are both looking each other in the face once again before murmuring, gentle as a spring breeze, “I love you too.”

Anakin’s face crumples before a smile overtakes his expression and he lets out a tiny, overjoyed laugh. Obi-Wan’s hands slide up to frame his face once again and draw him into a gentle kiss that slowly deepens. They break apart to smile at each other before coming together more urgently than before, and Ahsoka knows that it’s time for her to go.

She lets out a little breath–hopefully silent–and steps backward out of the alley. Once she has crept well away, she slumps against the wall herself. She... she’ll probably have to tell Anakin what she has witnessed. She really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop for so long, but she had needed to hear that promise from her Grandmaster almost as much as Anakin himself. As it is, she breathes out a sigh of relief knowing that for the moment they are both safe, happy, and that better times are coming. For all of them.

They’ll figure this out together.

#and then they had sex in the alley #i could #maybe be tempted into writing that bit #now that Ahsoka has removed herself from the vicinity #maybe #obikin #outsider pov #Clem's fight club au #*slams laptop shut and hides after first blog/writing post in over a decade*#north writes

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wincore · 4 years ago

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sour tangerine | huang renjun

pairing: keyboardist!renjun x songwriter!reader

words: 15.3k

summary: ‘i gave up on that sort of music,’ he’d said. but not like this. not when you’re there to grab his wrist and drag him into your ridiculous notions about music that make him want to tear all his hair out. huang renjun falls in love with two words that escape your lips, and now he has to pretend his cheeks aren’t caked in a blush as red as donghyuck’s guitar. maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to joining this band of idiots just for an incredibly cute songwriter.

themes: rock band!au, fluff, (mostly existential) angst, comedy-ish

warnings: making out, alcohol, college kids being college kids

song recs: hello sunshine - wetter // how to love - day6 // today - nell // rooftop - n.flying // what can i do - day6 // red - the rose // i loved you - day6 // leave it - n.flying // baby - the rose

a/n: nct dream 00 line rock band. that’s it. who wants to join my renjun cover literally any song by day6 agenda. if you think this is like a kdrama compressed into a fic i am so sorry but you are correct hsdksh also i do not know what it’s like to major in music or make music so... please bear with me.

special thanks to @insomni-writing for beta reading this ilysm!! and @cinanamon because your support made me actually finish this ily dude <3

With hair dyed blond and a stream of colourful words ready at the tip of his tongue, no one assumes Huang Renjun majors in classical music. Not when he’s threatening Lee Donghyuck by the vending machine, not when he’s pulling an arrogant half-smile by the semester-end results and certainly not when he’s hardly ever seen near an instrument as elegant as the grand piano.

If they heard him play it just once, they’d forget the rest.

He strikes the keys gently, and then all at once in a motion so very unique to him—and you know this, not because you were stalking him, but because you happened to get a very rare ticket to the national level performing arts concert (which you didn’t scam out of someone that time, you swear). Looking pristine in a clean tuxedo and with then dark hair swept to the side, Huang Renjun looked very much like an alien, like the words leaving his mouth and the things he’d do would be so unpredictable.

You were right.

Huang Renjun plays the piano like he’s not of this world.

He plays soft rock tunes even better—which, this time, you know because you were, in fact, stalking him while he spent extra hours in the practice room. From the lazy smile on his face to the way he let himself loose (for once) in a hot pink hoodie he kept trying to cover with his bag all day, you knew he was perfect.

Out of all the miserably planned (and timed) situations you’ve pulled yourself into, this might just hit top 3.

You’re going to convince Renjun to join your band.

Which is easier said than done, because Renjun is just as stubborn as you are, if not more. You’ve never wanted to smack someone so bad and neither have you ever contemplated the outcome of spontaneous fistfights as much. But as frustrated as he leaves you, you know you need him, or your picture-perfect plan will fall apart before you’ve even started to paint.

The first time you’d nudged him in class, he’d sent you a glare as soon as the question left your lips. You’d fought a pout, the warmth on your cheeks popping like firecrackers. But you’re not easily discouraged, no, not really, not ever.

The second time, you’d spread your arms in front of him to get him to stop walking off, looking more of a lunatic than a college student (sometimes, what’s the difference?) and Renjun had pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in an expression more than annoyed.

“Please!” you yelled, catching the attention of fellow students.

Renjun eyed your palms flat against each other, elbows raised in a most comical prayer and announced a “No” just as loudly before briskly walking away.

The third time, you’d sent Donghyuck, your lead guitarist, who you really shouldn’t have expected to perform better than you did. You know they’re friends, so that should have worked better, right? Wrong. Renjun had returned a pouting Donghyuck, complaining nonstop for two whole days afterwards and with a message from Renjun to “in the best of words, fuck off”.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your watch. This is your last time to book him for your ragtag rock band (still unnamed) and you’re going to leave him with no choice. You can do this.

You tiptoe from one side of the corridor to the other, the large windows drenching you in an uncomfortable amount of sunlight. But you are quiet—you know how to be sneaky and you’d be lying if you said you’re not at least a little bit proud of it. Renjun stays at the senior practice room well into late afternoon and if the door was closed fully, you’d be hearing nothing of it.

The old model of electronic keyboards in the practice room, which made you wonder if electric instruments ever rust, now plays ringing clear. It’s not just the fondness with which your school’s beloved pianist plays it but the added charm of his structure, straightened enough to focus but relaxed just as much.

A few minutes pass by in quiet contemplation, as you run through your plan again. First, approach him with a friendly gesture, offer him your strawberry milk or something. Second, block every exit he might seek once you’ve cornered him. Third, spew that long speech you prepared—a pretty pile of words ought to move him. Right? If all else fails, you’re going to call in Jaemin as your secret weapon. The boy can charm a rock, and you hate to be doing that to anyone (even Renjun), but drastic situations call for drastic measures. You take a sharp breath.

Oh, he’s singing now?

You misstep over the marble flooring and the door creaks open a little too loud.

Shit.

The music stops. You take a good second to swear at yourself, well and full, before breathing in and entering the practice room with as much confidence as you can gather.

“Renjun!” you say, grinning wide and arms stretched as if you’re there to welcome him.

Renjun looks at you, surprise smeared across his face. He quickly picks up his bag, shaking his head at you as he makes his way towards the door.

“You- “

Instead of all your brilliant planning, you resort to pulling a disgruntled Renjun into a lonesome corner before he can leave. It would seem more of a threat than an invitation to join, you’ll admit, but right now, you need Renjun to not glare at you with a scowl so obvious. It’s not that his face makes you nervous, it’s the outcome of today’s attempt. The bright afternoon sun reaches his hair and the left side of his face, a warm hue over eyes that look at you with more than just mild annoyance. He wears a grungy dark jacket over his lightly coloured T-shirt and has the audacity to claim he doesn’t do rock.

“Are you trying to kidnap me or something?” he asks, adjusting the strap of his bag.

You quickly smack the wall so your arm blocks his way, though the impact of it makes you wince.

“Join me,” you say, looking at him, determination across your face though the sentence comes off more cult-ish than you’d want.

Renjun takes a step back to look up and take a sharp breath.

“I already told you,” he says, raising his voice, “I don’t do that sort of music anymore.”

“Anymore?”

Renjun groans, lips shaped in perfect annoyance. “Just how long are you going to keep this up?”

He tries to escape you but you take a hasty step closer, his back hitting the wall with a thud. It’s not all that fun, getting people to join your band. It’s even less fun when Renjun’s cologne is a tad too minty for your tastes.

“I’ll do anything!” you say, pressing your lips tight as the pleading grows in your eyes.

“Anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” You jolt up straighter.

“Then leave me alone forever for the rest of my life.”

Renjun crosses his arms and you frown, a sigh lacing your lips till you bring yourself to look him in the eye again. It’s not yet time to pull out Jaemin, you’re not even sure if that will work, but you might just have something else.

“Lee Chaerim!” you suddenly yell. “You like her, don’t you?”

It’s a long shot but if it works…

Renjun’s cheeks dust pink and he takes a step back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. Bullseye. You fight a snort before he can catch you. Gods, he’s so obvious.

“Wh-what gave you that idea?” he retorts, pitch shooting higher before he recomposes himself. “She’s a classmate, idiot. And don’t yell her name!”

“Star pianist Lee Chaerim,” you wave your hand about. “Who wouldn’t have a crush on her? I mean you’re a close second though.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “It’s really not…”

“I’ll score you a date with her!” you declare, grinning like a maniac. “If you join my band.”

Renjun sighs, shoulders sagging. “You’re really not going to drop this, are you?”

“Nope.” You shrug, popping the ‘p’ in a helplessly obnoxious manner.

Renjun leans back against the wall, head tilting to look you in the eye as the frown grows prominent over his lips.

“And you think scoring me a date will make me want to join your…band?” Renjun snorts.

You shift your eyes awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t really paint you as the Romeo type either but hey, I don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“(name)?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh. That’s actually the sweetest thing I’ve heard from you,” you muse before quickly returning to the subject at hand. “Ah, come on. Just give it a chance, please?

“I major in classical music.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk crawling over your lips. “And yet you’re more than decent at Queen on the keys.”

Renjun straightens, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “You’re stalking me?!”

“No, I’m scouting you. All the big companies hire people to do that.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Er, it’s called extraordinary.”

“Extraordinarily annoying.”

“Stop arguing with me!” You stomp your foot.

Renjun mimics you in a rather aggressive tone, the tip of his nose almost touching yours. You pull a face, throwing a soft punch at his shoulder to which he responds with a sharp cry and a glare.

“Fine!” Renjun says, massaging his shoulder. “I’ll give you one week to prove to me this band’s worth my time.”

You feel something akin to surprise before his words register. Worth his time? He's just about as arrogant as you expected.

“Deal,” you say, shooting him a forced smile.

From the light periwinkle of his T-shirt to the blond strands astray against his forehead, there’s a sort of halo surrounding him. You press your lips together before you can laugh at his supposed angelic qualities, before he somehow starts to look as pretty as your friends describe.

“Starting today, I’m your lyricist and composer!” you grin, extending your hand towards him.

“I...You…”

Renjun hesitates before taking your hand in a firm shake, but not before pursing his lips in doubt. Perhaps you could have warned him before grabbing his wrist and so unceremoniously dragging him here.

“I didn’t even join,” he mutters.

“I’m giving you the full trial!” you defend.

Renjun stays quiet before suddenly clearing his throat. “You can- You can let go of the wall now.”

Your eyes trail to your hand and you immediately retract it with an “ah”. There’s barely any distance between your chests, and you suppose you were successful in cornering him—a little too effectively. Renjun shakes his head, quickly walking past you with no gesture of goodbye.

“You’re going to be disappointed, (name),” he says quietly before leaving.

You blink in confusion at his disappearing figure.

Whatever. When have you ever paid attention to words of warning? You glance at the back of Renjun’s head from the second floor’s handrail as he rushes down the stairs, albeit a sort of grace to his movement, and sigh.

Donghyuck owes you twenty. You’re going to be rubbing it in his smug face that you’ve recruited, er, almost recruited the unreachable Huang Renjun. And for a date? He must be far more romantic than you thought. You don’t think you’ll ever understand him.

You take a slow, deep breath reaching all the way to your belly.

Your plan is working out. It’s going to work out—soon you can be writing songs to a rhythm and melody of your choice, for people who can hear the words and dance to it. The world’s gonna sing along to your songs, to the chorus to your ambitions.

“Renjun?!”

Between Donghyuck’s agape mouth and Renjun’s defensive stance, you really don’t know who to approach first. This place was apparently the only room in all of Seoul a bunch of college kids could rent out and while all of you dished out a remarkable chunk from your earnings, it was worth every penny. From the ugly orange wallpaper to the stinky couch, you wouldn’t trade a thing in this room, except for maybe Jeno’s withering plant in exchange for a new one. Poor thing’s been dead for as long as you can remember (courtesy of Jaemin).

“(name) actually convinced you?” Donghyuck asks, exaggerated surprise in his voice before he drops it lower. “You can tell me if you were threatened or something, promise I’ll get you out of this.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, a smile making on to his face anyway. “It’s just for a w—mph!”

You slap a hand over Renjun’s mouth, stepping in to grin victoriously at Donghyuck. “See, Hyuck? I told you I’d make it work. Now, pay up.”

“You bet on this?”

The curtains are drawn shut but the room lights are bright in a strange sort of way, like someone in the sixteenth century discovered electricity early and decided to reinvent candlelight out of it. Late afternoon isn’t as gentle as it is in winter, but you’d rather have patches of sunlight decorating the room instead of the garish yellow lights. The lavender air freshener you sprayed a few minutes ago has already settled in, the previous scent of instant noodles, though delicious, finally gone. You should’ve brought the coffee mix, you think with regret. A productive day needs a productive start, as you’ve always been told. (You might have messed up, but it’s never too late, right?)

You think you should have anticipated a little adjustment trouble after all.

Jeno walks headfirst into the mess—with Renjun choking Donghyuck under his arm while you try to not drop the pile of records from the small coffee table and onto the Dorito dust-covered wooden floor. The recorder is safe, a good few feet away from your mayhem.

“Oh, hey Renjun, didn’t know you’re a part of this,” Jeno says, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

“Yeah, I didn’t either,” Renjun mutters in response, loosing up on Donghyuck.

You narrow your eyes. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

“Yeah, we’re in the same dorm,” Jeno answers, shrugging before he drops his bag onto the couch.

You gasp. “You could’ve just asked him all this time?!”

“Uh,” Jeno drawls out before coughing forcefully. There’s a slight change of air, and your inability to read situations, for the first time, is a major help.

“Hello, trouble children,” Jaemin announces as he enters, his bag thrown in Jeno’s direction, who seems relieved for the interruption.

“Oh, hi Renjun!”

“You know him too?” You’re almost offended at this point.

Jaemin stares blankly in confusion. “Yeah, we’re…all…in the same dorm.”

You throw up your head in exasperation, an annoyed huff leaving your parted lips. “And none of you thought of asking him to join?!”

“We didn’t think he’d ever agree,” Jaemin says, glancing at Renjun discreetly.

Renjun stays quiet, shrugging before he plops down on the couch. “Anyone wanna tell me what we’re supposed to do today? Apart from killing Donghyuck?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so bad at rock, paper, scissors,” Donghyuck retorts quietly.

“You cheated!” Renjun sits up straight, glaring.

You raise your palms like the peaceful negotiator you are, and honestly, all they had to do was decide the lead vocal for the new song, which Renjun vehemently rejected.

Donghyuck gasps. “Renjun isn’t half as innocent as he looks. Watch out (name)—oof.”

Renjun elbows him in the stomach, the resulting expression on Donghyuck making you wonder just how much strength Renjun really has.

“Renjun, Donghyuck. You’re both lead,” you say, finalizing.

“What?!”

The two of them look at you, one with betrayal and the other with an emotion very close to murder. It wasn’t easy coming to the decision, sure, but for this song, you’ll be needing Renjun a little bit more. Is it treacherous of you to have picked out the song most suited to him? You have your reasons, however. You’re not letting Renjun leave without experiencing the wonders of performing at a local pub, and in general, you’re a little iffy about letting him leave at all. You need the keys and you need a chance. You have something to prove.

“Just this song, Hyuck,” you sigh. “You know we switch up things every time.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “The show's coming Saturday, right?”

You nod when Renjun interrupts.

“Show?!” he blurts.

“We’re performing,” you answer, shrugging. “You know Odd Fruit? In Hongdae?”

Renjun wrinkles his nose, shifting back. “No? Isn’t that a dive bar?”

“Best place for us,” Jaemin grins, resting his elbows against the headrest beside Renjun. “Saturdays are for rock.”

Renjun sighs. “I don’t- I don’t sing rock.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t peeping or anything but wasn’t that you in the shower? What were you singing again—”

“Okay, okay!” Renjun sits up straight, heaving a sigh, his shoulders moving with it. “I sing Disney songs in the shower, it doesn’t mean anything…”

“We can do that sort of music too.” You grin, tilting your head. “We can do any music!”

“Yeah,” Jeno encourages thoughtfully, “Even idol music!”

“No,” everyone says in unison.

Jeno mutters something under his breath, sulking as he sinks into the couch and crosses his arms after adjusting his bright red baseball cap.

Renjun shakes his head, recomposing himself. “You want me to perform next Saturday?! That wasn’t in the deal!”

You furrow your brows. “I told you it’s a full trial!”

“That’s over a week!” He throws up his hands in exasperation.

“The trial week ends on Friday and Saturday’s just a bonus,” you reason, crossing your arms.

You don't break the gaze just in case it determines your stand. It’s probably a full minute of glaring at each other before your humble audience intervenes, Donghyuck bursting into laughter and the other two following. You share a puzzled look with Renjun, looking around for an explanation.

“We’re gonna have a blast this Saturday,” Donghyuck says, wiping a tear from his eye. “I can’t wait.”

“We’ll get to practise,” Jaemin says, resting his palm on Renjun’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna have fun, trust me.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mutters.

That’s all you need to hear.

Renjun isn’t half as disagreeable when he’s focused. His brow line is straight, lips parted gently and eyes almost hazed over as if his fingers over the keys have eyes of their own.

Renjun is also fantastic at perfecting your notes. You always thought he’d be too prissy to work with you, but he doesn’t seem to care about that anymore. With flushed knuckles and long fingers, part of hands that were meant to play the piano—you’d say Renun lives up to the musical prodigy title. The short demo you’d played for him somehow swirled and twined into music so him and yet still you, rock undertones with light blues. You haven’t met anyone who can play with melody like that, besides Donghyuck.

Rock means hope. Undone to be done.

And maybe, part of you is a little disappointed at how well he handles the pre-performance stress. You would love to see a hint of jitters in him for once. Saturday wastes no time in creeping up and while you wish you could say you feel what your band looks like, you don’t. The pre-performance stress is very, very different for you.

Let’s say, you’re not too sure about reviving rock music in Seoul. It’s not very popular and still considered underground, but hey, at least it’s easy on the ears and it is honest, if nothing else. And an honest sound wins, right?

You lock eyes with Renjun, before they're ushered to the centre. There's not much to be said. You smile with a determined nod, holding up both of your thumbs to the boys. This will work out. It will.

And at the very least, you're getting two shots of whiskey on the house.

The place is shabby, but not too shabby for a dive bar. There’s a giant mural… thing of what seems to be the hybrid of a peach, apricot and dragonfruit. You’re not too sure, actually. Just as crowded as you expected, the lights glow dim and the smell of musk and lime keep in check the other foul smells that could possibly emanate from the human body. Lovely. Your fingers play against your lips as they stretch into a smile. It’s the perfect place to play your song, but maybe the jitters have a purpose after all.

There are foreign faces around, quite literally, and it makes you nervous. You settle by the bar, your last words of encouragement drifted off further from you to whatever that excuse of a stage is.

Renjun looks calm as ever. The confidence in him is not what you'd expected, though a bubbling feeling in you suggests it's even better this way.

“You finally got someone on the keys,” a familiar voice calls from behind the countertop.

You turn your head to find Doyoung, arms resting on the table and holding what seems to be a bottle of vodka so tenderly, you’d think it was either his child or an explosive.

“Huang Renjun,” you respond, smiling. “Like the best pianist in our year. Or maybe second best.”

Doyoung laughs. “You kids could be as good as us some day. Need more practice.”

“Hey, old man, it’s not your time anymore,” you say, raising an eyebrow with a cheeky grin. “Maybe you were the best keyboardist back then but…”

You lean in to emphasize as you point at a Renjun furrowing his brows at all the wiring. “That guy’s going to outsing you. It’s the new era now. Etcetera, etcetera.”

“You talk like I’m from a different generation.” Doyoung scoffs, though the corner of his lips twitch. “Still dreaming of making your boyband? Do you guys even have a name?”

You pout. “It’s not a boyband! Okay… technically, it is a boyband. And no, we don’t have a name.”

You sulk for a moment or two at the way Doyoung had called your life’s work a boyband in that uninterested tone. Nothing’s wrong with a boyband. You sigh.

“At least we’re getting free alcohol, eh?” you nudge Doyoung, him being the reason you’re getting to play here anyway. What does a graduated music performance major do in his free time? Bartending, apparently. You haven’t ever really questioned his life choices and you’re not going to start now. Never question your seniors.

“I’m not serving you kids alcohol,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief.

“We’re legal,” you argue, crossing your arms.

“Hard to believe.”

You see the smile lines crease on Doyoung’s face and before you can retort, a hum of strings resounds through the place, loud enough for the two of you to catch.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck mouths sheepishly to the two of you, Doyoung responding with an eye roll.

“I didn’t know that demon could get nervous,” he mutters and you laugh at the comedic duo the two of them make.

Donghyuck clears his throat into the mic and you cringe, but not before holding back your laughter at the terror in his eyes. Right then, the keys are struck, and suddenly, music is into motion.

You absentmindedly hum along, smiling to yourself before it strikes you to monitor the crowd. You gulp, a crease in your brows as you look around with the determination of a child at a pet shop scanning for a puppy to adopt.

You give up after a minute or so, the feeling weighing heavy. Reading facial expressions has never really been your thing, especially under lights that don’t acknowledge the purpose of their existence. (You’re not saying this because you have bad eyesight.) Fun varies. Everyone in this place is in a crowd of their own, and if not a crowd, in a dream. Some nod along, some smile but you, you know the song better than anyone else in this room. It has to be worth something.

You sigh. Your desperation gets a notch crueler each drawing year, and yet, the questions still arise. Do you have to be someone? A smiling face at a dive bar is more than enough to be, you think.

You mouth the lyrics, nodding your head along to the baseline you helped make. You think Doyoung chuckles beside you, something about taking self-love too seriously but you can’t hear him over the sound of the band.

Bass. Drums. Keys.

Suddenly, in the moment between heartbeats, your eyes meet Renjun’s.

He sings into the mic full of self-assurance, teeth occasionally making an appearance in a chaotic smile. It's always the little things that make the person. Eyes peering down at the keys, barely keeping open at certain parts and yet you think you see a hint of exhilaration in them.

The riff of the second song starts out loud. This is Donghyuck’s song and this time, it turns heads. You’re not sure in a good way or bad, but it wouldn’t be the first time people have wanted to beat him up in a bar. You snicker to yourself but just then, two guys cheer from the crowd, a red-faced Donghyuck flashing them a grin.

“Ah, Jaehyun and Taeil are here too,” Doyoung notes. You’ve never actually met the two but you’ve heard of them so many times you think you could replace Doyoung as their lead singer.

The song is called Cheers and for good reason.

Donghyuck smiles into the mic, and with a highly anticipated breath, you realize, Renjun is smiling too. Little by little, the night grows more optimistic and into the palms of your youth. Even in this tiny, crowded place. Even in a room full of people you can’t read.

The song ends in time, but not enough for Donghyuck to actually convince Doyoung to give him drinks. It’s not a Saturday night without their fights, and despite that, the atmosphere is warm with spoken words. You think you catch Renjun beam at Doyoung’s compliment, suppressing your own smile at the two..

Clink, splash, clink.

“You know, for someone as excited about whiskey, I thought you’d be better with liquor,” Renjun says, sighing as his hesitant finger pokes you in the forehead.

Your eyes open so suddenly, Renjun flinches and you ease into a smile. “I’m not that drunk. The next shot, maybe.”

That’s not entirely true because you’re sure the previous one just needs a little more time to settle into your gut. Renjun, on the other hand, seems to be better at dealing with alcohol. The peach hue across his cheeks make you want to pinch them and you’ll give it twenty minutes before you lose control and actually do.

The two songs were only three and a half minutes each but they seemed to stretch long enough for you to be pleased with them. You’re not sure about the rest.

“I almost messed up the beat there,” Jeno mutters, resting his head against the bar table. Jaemin shrugs beside him, taking another shot. The two of them can hold their liquor, at least. Donghyuck cannot.

“Was it that bad?” Donghyuck asks, adjusting the red bomber jacket he was so sure made him look cool. “I don’t think it was bad. I mean, we all do embarrassing things once in a while—”

“Does he not shut up?” Renjun wails before looking at you accusingly. “Don’t end up like that.”

“I don’t mope, Renjun,” you snap, your finger unsteady as it points at him. “You better remember that about me.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “And you’re gone too.”

“Tell me,” you say, your lips tugged into a lazy smile, “you enjoyed it, didn’t you? I saw you smiling.”

Even under the wash of blue light, you can see his cheeks tinge with colour. Is Huang Renjun purple now? Not the crystal clear jewel you’d expected, but these hues are so much nicer on him. He doesn’t always have to be under golden spotlight—he can just bask in the mulberry shades of a nearly sketchy club once in a while.

“Renjun,” a loud whine erupts from beside you, Donghyuck immediately wobbling up. “I can’t believe you actually agreed to play with us. C’mere, let me give you a smooch.”

Renjun curls his lips, desperately trying to fight off Donghyuck clinging onto him for life, and you hear a grunt of pain from Renjun in a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible. You laugh, clutching your stomach and hear a few strained words from Renjun about how no one ever helps him. Who would help him when he’s providing you the funniest event of the weekend?

Jeno is the knight in shining armour tonight, pulling Donghyuck off but not before the boy lands a kiss on Renjun’s neck, in turn getting smacked in the lips a little too hard. Donghyuck places his hand over his mouth, keeling over with eyes shut in pain and Renjun mutters about how he deserved that. He fits in just fine, you think.

“You wanna… not do that?”

Renjun pulls the shot glass away from you, and you frown at him.

“So tell me,” he says, leaning in a little closer to be heard over the song. “Why did you want me to join your band so desperately you forgot your own dignity? I’m not saying you had any to begin with but…”

“Look, Renjun, I don’t give away embarrassing secrets when I’m drunk,” you warn, poking him right between the ribs. “Even if it’s not embarrassing. Or a secret.”

“Right. You’d do that sober,” he sighs, arms a polite distance from you when you try to stand up.

“Now you tell me—”

“You didn’t even answer me.”

“—did you have fun?”

Renjun pauses, taking a moment or two as he scans your face. The light dances across his features, gentle eyes and parted lips, across the dark jacket over a white shirt that has turned fluorescent under the lighting. You forgot how fun this place got beyond midnight, when they play beats to dance to for a crowd that seeks nothing more than fun.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

Renjun might be trying very hard to stop the smile over his lips but you can see it in his eyes. And perhaps, people are only seen when they are true to themselves.

“Huang Renjun!” you yell all of a sudden, voice still drowned out in the delicate discordance.

Unfortunately for Renjun, you yell directly into his ear and he responds with a violent recoil, hand flying to his ear involuntarily. He probably cries out too but the music is deafening, something you enjoy rightly so. Or is it the alcohol? Should you have stayed sober for Renjun’s sake? Right now, you don’t even mind the strong minty scent wafting from Renjun—in fact, it’s welcoming, even.

You wobble onto his chest before tentatively pushing yourself away. You curse at yourself. You weren’t supposed to get hammered. How much did you drink? You can’t even bear to look at the bill right now.

“You know what? I’m not having fun right now,” Renjun speaks into your ear and you jump. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

You sit back down on the bar stool, pouting at the fuzz blooming inside your head. No more words for tonight. In all honesty, why doesn’t anyone ever let you dance?

“Oh no, you don’t.” Doyoung pulls the bottle of whatever-alcoholic-beverage out of your reach. “Do you even know how expensive that is? You’re going to have to pay.”

You think you sober up a little, sitting straight. “Oh no. I don’t have money. I’m not cleaning the place again.”

A sort of unspoken arrangement passes between Doyoung and Renjun, who you’re sure have never met before. You know Jaemin’s dragged Donghyuck home, the same way you’d drag your pet cat away from the kitchen and Jeno is the only one with a driver’s license and Doyoung’s trust (hence, designated driver). Which leaves the two of you.

Renjun heaves a sigh, pulling you up by the shoulders. “You’re going home. Or whatever dumpster you came from.”

He proceeds to mutter something about Jeno being late but in the moment, you flash him a grin, walking perfectly away (at least, you think you do) and out into the night. Renjun follows, flustered by your absolute lack of restraint as he somehow manages to stop you from tripping over the sidewalk.

“You didn’t dance,” you complain, looking at him.

“You didn’t let me,” he retorts. “Look at you. You’re as bad as Donghyuck. Babysitting him is difficult enough.”

You grumble before agreeing. “Okay, fair. Next time, no drinking. Unless it’s free.”

What college student would have the audacity to turn down free drinks? Huang Renjun should not have been this good at holding his liquor. Needlessly, your thoughts are incoherent—not too good for a songwriter, right?

Huang Renjun has a lighter touch than you thought. He has a polite hold over your shoulder, in a way friends do most often, and you might feel like you could have been friends with him forever, but you can never tell what he thinks. Sometimes, Renjun really is extraterrestrial. In the way he talks, in the way he looks at things and in the way you almost believe he’s going to do something unspeakably outrageous someday.

You feel a certain sprout of warmth in your chest as he sits quietly beside you in the noisy car Jeno loves to drive. Must be the alcohol, of course. Of course.

And sometimes, you come up with words fit for a song. To fall asleep in last night’s clothes and wake up with tomorrow’s dreams—all part of the grand plan, part of the crusades of youth, nothing more and nothing less. That sounds like something you’d love telling your family when you’re old and grey. You laugh to yourself, pulling the covers over your head, not knowing how you even ended up here.

It smells minty.

With that one fleeting thought, you doze off in your unwashed bed sheets and faintly lemon-scented pillows, shades of plums and oranges and cherries of the night twisting into midnight black.

Playing at Odd Fruit is now a thing. Your thing. The band’s thing.

As if you needed any more reasons to stay over at the bandroom, now that Donghyuck and Renjun bickering keeps everyone up all night. You’re not blaming them, of course, when you join in the fun too. The day Renjun’s nostrils stop flaring and his eyebrows don’t furrow into an oddly adorable expression will be the day he’s finally set free from your ‘ill-treatment’.

Tap, scratch, tap.

Donghyuck fiddles with the strings of his guitar, while the rest lay slumped in any clean bit of space they could find, like runners after a marathon. Which is funny, really, considering you were the one running errands and cleaning up the damn place and it’s yet still somehow trashed. You could be having a little more energy, you always could.

However, the lengthened nights have left you in a state you’re rather afraid to be in. Your eyes don’t grow any more determined when it’s time for end semester tests, you don’t grow any happier at the thought of graduating. There are so many tunes to find, so many words to scribble—just how will you catch up?

Fun is a perfectly valid reason to do things but it’s only so long before the rest of your feelings each grip you by the limbs.

“We need to do something more,” you say, pacing the room. “Something that’s a little more eye-catching, you know?”

There’s a pause.

“Make Jeno play the drums shirtless,” Donghyuck suggests.

Jeno sighs, still not having figured out how to respond every time a scandalizing proposition escapes the boy’s mouth. At this point, most of you have considered duct taping him over the mouth but it’d never work. Renjun’s tried.

“Why do we even need it?” Renjun asks, eyes on the ceiling as he lies back on the couch.

“To improve!” you say, shoulders hunching.

“I don’t need improving,” he mutters, neck angled to the side in contemplation.

“Yeah, you should see Renjun at the dorms,” Donghyuck snorts. “I don’t think he can get any better.”

Renjun furrows his brows. “What?”

“You play the keys in your sleep, Renjun,” Donghyuck says, almost distastefully. “You keep tapping and tapping against the study desk. How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”

“And you snore,” Renjun mumbles, glaring at him. “How the hell do you not wake yourself up?”

“Guys,” you interrupt. Your lack of sleep throughout the exam season has not left you any better than this. “More important matters at hand.”

“Why are we so stressed anyway?” Renjun sighs.

There’s another pause in the quiet afternoon. You’d think it’s comforting even to have the same fear lingering beneath each of your noses, that same existential grasp ready to pounce—all within the comfort of the same room you share. All those late nights sharing ramen have meaning after all, as do the utter messes all of you make on Friday evenings as the boys try to practise, as does every Saturday night performance and every Sunday afternoon spent trying to watch the same movie on a tiny phone screen.

“How about we each look for inspiration?” Jaemin pipes up, eyes still a little lost.

Everyone turns to him and he straightens ever so slightly. “Me and Jeno can come up with a beat, (name) and Renjun can look for a melody and Donghyuck—”

“Can fuck off?” Renjun suggests helpfully.

Donghyuck pouts, crossing his arms. “Hey I’m—”

“Yeah, maybe Donghyuck can fuck off,” Jaemin says, fighting a smile. You raise an eyebrow, wondering which one of Donghyuck’s antics finally got on Jaemin’s nerves.

“This is harassment,” Donghyuck mutters before sinking into the couch beside Renjun. “Well, good for me! I get a day off—”

“No, you don’t,” Jaemin disproves. “You’re cleaning up this place.”

Donghyuck lets out a gasp. “All by myself?”

“Well, you trashed the place all by yourself,” Jeno reasons.

You tune out the bickering for a few moments. There are important matters at hand and no one seems to be listening to you. You play with your fingers absentmindedly when the thought arrives that maybe you should declare your secret little project. The song you wrote with Renjun in mind, that is. You should admit that it’s really just a nicer way of saying you wrote a song for him.

Astounding, isn’t it? This should be the part where you feel your pulse quicken. It’s just a song and the nights spent with him on the keyboards, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes has given you a head full of rhythm and song. It’s just a song.

You’d do anything for a good song.

But first, you need your audio converter fixed. The damn thing’s been generating noise all on its own, when it’s clearly your job.

“I need to go to Yongsan,” you say, picking up your bag. “We can find inspiration along the way, can’t we Renjun?”

“Why do we need to go—”

“Oh, get me some replacement strings for my guitar,” Donghyuck chirps.

“And a new pair of drumsticks,” Jeno says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You sigh. He really needs to stop breaking those. Where do drummers get such unparalleled rage on a drum set?

You walk over to the door before turning back and sending a pointed look at Renjun.

“I… have to?” he asks, and the look in his eyes almost makes you pity him. If anything, he’s having it worse than the rest of you are, with balancing the weekly gigs and practising for his piano recitals, though he never studies like the rest. You feel sorry but clearly, not enough.

“Yes,” you reply hurriedly. “Quick, get up, come on, we’re wasting time.”

“Okay, okay! Don’t pull my shirt!”

It’s so easy to get Renjun to do things these days. You bite back a smile as he fixes his collar, features still disgruntled by your (over)enthusiasm. His bag is cuter than you thought for someone who dresses punk (“It’s not punk,” he’d snapped, after re-dyeing his hair yet again.), with three different moomin keychains hanging against a baby blue hue.

You should know better than to let yourself think about someone so much.

The subway is absolutely lovable when it isn’t rush hour.

Skyscrapers nearly aren’t as looming as they are on rainy days, but you make your way through a still busy city, the heart of it beating like a snare drum with each passing moment. A little rain cannot stop Seoul.

Renjun walks beside you explaining how you should really look into this new underground artist you’ve already listened to three times this week because of him. He never seems to understand that you are, in fact, capable of remembering the things he says.

“I wrote a song about you,” you say abruptly.

Very smooth.

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Like as a gift? A fan song? I’m so flatter—”

“No, stupid,” you interrupt, shifting your eyes upon irrelevant surrounding details. “It’s not about you. I just thought you’d like it.”

You pause.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit about you. A gift for joining. You can sing it to yourself in the shower or something.”

“You know, I feel really offended when you call me stupid.”

You glare at him. His ears are tinged red but right now, you’re a little more than done with his insults. Sure, you make mistakes—like dropping a full open can of soda on your own lap or submitting the wrong assignment to the wrong professor—but at least you’re not cynical Huang Renjun, incapable of making mistakes at all. It would be much more infuriating if you hadn’t seen Renjun drooling in his sleep or vigorously wipe at his nose after having snacks too spicy for his own good. You suppress a retort.

You reach the subway entrance taking slower steps than usual; but time is not a constraint here.

“It’s not a diss track, is it?” Renjun asks, suddenly doubtful.

You can’t help your laugh (and horrifically, snorts), in turn evoking a smile in Renjun.

“No, it isn’t,” you assure, before grabbing his wrist and skipping down the steps, Renjun’s panicked voice yelling at you to slow down.

“Can you not do that?” he complains, massaging his wrist at the subway platform.

“You made it through without tripping,” you reason, sticking your tongue out at him.

He reaches out to flick your forehead but you cover it just in time, a grin blooming across both your faces at this childish playfight. The train arrives with an almost soundless screech and you hop on slowly with anticipation in your footsteps.

“So what is it about?” Renjun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees.

“You,” you respond, nonchalant.

“Very informative.”

The noise of the trains keeps the moment engaged, chuffing throughout as busy as they are.

Renjun lets out a barely audible gasp. “It’s not a- It’s not a love song, is it?”

You laugh, amused.

“Renjun, I knew you were arrogant but not this arrogant,” you tease.

He flushes hotly, and there’s that feeling again—that maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you don’t have anything else to hang on to and music is the only ledge left.

You wrinkle your nose before shaking yourself off the feeling. Rainy days always do this.

“Besides,” you say, “I’m still going to score you that hot date with star pianist number one, aren’t I?”

“Not number one,” he begins before hesitating. “That’s… not necessary but thanks.”

You punch him swiftly and he responds with an oof, clutching the ball of his shoulder.

“Don’t be shy,” you complain. “That’s not fun.”

“Well, I’m not fun,” he retorts. “I don’t need to be. I like having a working brain.”

You send him an exaggerated hurt look, hand reaching to pull at his cheek before it gets swatted away. Somehow, in this exact moment, you find a new tune and it doesn’t seem to be the end of your search. You contemplate saving it in your voice memos but you figure a noisy subway train is the last place to record. Besides, you don’t want to lose the look in Renjun’s eyes when he’s talking about how impressive the new relocated concert hall is.

“It’s called Not Feeling Spring,” you say when the train doors open to your station.

Renjun raises an eyebrow, somewhat disbelieving, although you’re not sure of what.

“You’ve definitely packed some insults in there,” he accuses.

You look at him, defeated. “Trust me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Step, step, splash.

“Ew,” Renjun says, shaking his foot after landing on a particularly damp part of the sidewalk. They really should have evened out the path when laying the pavement. But unfortunately for Renjun, he’s already stepped onto rainwater in bright yellow converse.

It’s not just his shoes that look like daisies could bloom over them either—there’s paint over his denim jacket in pictures you’re aware that Renjun himself painted. A nice little touch, but not a very smart choice for a garment. How unlike him, you think to yourself when you hear him sigh and complain about the weather.

“So this is your famous shop?” Renjun asks, eyeing the discoloured walls of the store by the shop.

“You’re doing your thing again,” you reply, face souring.

He looks baffled. “What thing?”

“Your thing. The one where you act all cynical.”

“I’m not cynical.” He crosses his arms.

“Great, you’re even cynical about being cynical.”

Inside is, of course, as warm as ever. The walls are vibrant red, in stark contrast with the exterior and you think you see Renjun’s face grow pinkish. You smile at the man behind the counter, in his late fifties and smile still somehow as bright as yours.

“What’s the problem, dear?” he asks, glancing at your laptop. “You know I can’t help with software issues.”

“I know,” you say, “But I’ve tried every guide on the internet and there’s still unnecessary noise.”

He clicks around your screen for a few seconds.

“Have you tried getting a better mic?”

“Uh.”

Renjun snickers beside you before promptly apologizing at the two pairs of eyes on him. You didn’t bring him here just to embarrass yourself in front of him. Your cheeks flush as you tell the man you’ll come another day with your mic, before heading to the supplements aisle. Renjun follows you quietly, silent laughter yet still etched over his face and he looks away when you glare at him.

“Are you sure you wanna buy the wooden drumsticks?” Renjun asks, picking up the carbon fibre ones instead.

“Jeno loves the wooden ones,” you defend. “And you really think those are within my budget?”

Renjun shrugs, keeping them back in place.

“Feels like I’m shopping for babies,” he mutters.

There’s a second’s pause before he straightens, a particular discomfort in his being. “Not- Not like my babies or something. I- I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” you say, trying very hard to hold in your laughter.

“I don’t like that face you’re making.”

“You don’t always have to explain yourself,” you smile before heading to the counter.

The scent of rain makes you nostalgic. You step outside with Renjun and into the sound of rain against pavement. It’s wet and damp, and your hair clings to your skin in that horrific discomfort of humidity, truly one of the worst cruelties of rain. You make a face but an idea strikes you smack across the forehead.

You gasp.

“This can be our stage!” you declare, spreading your arms.

Renjun pulls your arms down. “Don’t block the sidewalk!”

“Sorry.”

You shove your bag onto Renjun, bewildering him even further. The sleeves of the jacket he rolled up, fall into place again as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“This,” you say, waving your arms about, “Should be a stage.”

“Huh?”

Renjun looks unconvinced at your flailing and you sigh.

“The rain!” you say, trying to sound as enthusiastic as you can. “Isn’t it romantic? You’ve never thought what it would be like playing in the rain?”

“Uh, inconvenient?”

You groan. “Come on! Picture it for a second.”

You give it a moment before showing him what you mean. Renjun bursts into laughter at your air guitar performance, suddenly unaware of the pit-a-pat.

“It would be nice,” he says, his teeth poking against his lips. He places the bags under the shaded entrance of the store before stepping into the drizzle.

Pitter, patter.

Renjun flashes you a goofy smile, shaking the water out of his hair only for the rain to come in stronger. With raindrops caught on eyelashes, you can only think of the soft, rising melodies that come in movie scenes like these, except it’s a lot more uncomfortable than they show it to be. You smoothen your hair, getting slightly frizzy due to the raindrops. You’ve always wanted to do things out of line and out of regularity and it’s not just because of the price sticker spelling ‘youth’ that clings to your back—but now, is it selfish to just want to stay under the rain?

In a way it feels just the same as ever; like singing barefoot on an asphalt road, cooling rains and people around, without a care each. You tell Renjun about the time you were stranded by the bus stop under heavy downpour for so long, you decided to walk home with pneumonia a step behind you and he tells you that you’re an idiot. It’s nothing unusual but it makes you smile when he laughs at you.

The rain slows again before you can start to shiver, chest rising and falling with each breath that fills your lungs.

“I have a song!” you declare, eyes shining. “A love song. We’ve never done a love song.”

“A love song?” Renjun asks, laughing almost. “You want to write a radio love song? Why?”

“Because, Huang Renjun, there’s not a thing in the world that isn’t made for love.”

Renjun pauses before wrinkling his nose. “Don’t preach me.”

The clap of thunder startles the two of you out of calm. It’s not so much the screams that left your mouths simultaneously as the looks you get from passersby. Renjun looks at you the same time as you look at him, his ears red and eyes nervous.

“Lightning doesn’t- Lightning doesn’t strike in the middle of the city, does it?” Renjun asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, like a hare stranded in the middle of a busy road.

“I don’t know!” You respond, pulling him by the sleeve to the nearest cover. “I don’t want to know.”

Renjun grabs your hand and you realize with a thump in your heart the effect of it. He pulls you to the side, saving your jeans from the fate of getting splashed by muddy water courtesy of an oncoming car.

“Ooh, quick reflex,” you say, despite the clanging of cymbals inside your ribcage.

He shrugs, picking up the bags and shoving yours to your chest.

“Ow?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know why.”

“You know, you’re not as grumpy as I thought you were. You’re still petty, though.”

“Thanks.”

When you’re back to the bandroom, you find Donghyuck snoring on the couch with an even more worn out Jaemin sitting cross legged on the floor and his head against Donghyuck's knee. Jeno looks like he’s in a world of his own, tapping away at his phone in a game he seems to be losing at.

“Why are you guys wet?” Jaemin asks, cracking an eye open. “Had some life-changing experience?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “Why do you guys look dead?”

“I am dead,” Donghyuck mumbles in his sleep to which Jaemin shakes his head.

“He didn’t even do the entire cleaning…”

You hope the skip in your steps isn’t too obvious. You have a song and this time, it feels pure in a way that you haven’t made before.

“I hope you guys came up with a beat,” you call.

“Uh, about that—”

“I have a new song!” you announce bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Your declaration is met with a bunch of smiles. Soon enough, everyone in the room is up and to their positions in a matter of minutes.

Music isn’t about being eye-catching, considering the eyes have nothing to do with it anyway. You signal Renjun who in turn, clears his throat.

A strum of guitar string. Four notes on the keys. Bass. A beat on the drums.

“One. Two. Ah, one, two, three, four!”

The cafeteria is jam packed at three a.m so it’s a good thing you brought Renjun here an hour early. So, your top secret, full resistance, avant-garde mission? Your new song and the one for Renjun, of course.

“So this is top secret,” you whisper when he sits down from across you.

“I’m sure it is,” he snickers.

You pass your notebook to him, scribbles neater than usual. (That’s only because you rewrote the song in a new page.) You start your laptop, waiting for the screen to load as Renjun goes over the lines.

“My dreams and I don’t get along,” Renjun reads aloud before furrowing his brows.

Ah, I hate people.

I hate my friends too.

And I love saying that which isn’t true.

“Oh, very funny, (name),” Renjun scorns, crossing his arms. “Is that what you think of me?”

You chuckle to yourself. Maybe it was a little petty, but you love the look on Renjun’s face when he’s annoyed, nerves a second away from being completely fried. Just for fun. This was just for fun.

Somewhere along, however, you can’t deny the essence of him you’d so hopelessly wanted to capture in the melody, in rhythm and timbre, orchestral almost. It’s each note of the piano he plays to himself late at night in the bandroom, each featherlight hit on the cymbal and the song you hum to yourself on the bus ride to classes every morning.

It’s a love song.

You break into a sudden coughing fit at the thought, Renjun flinching before offering you his bottle of water. Somehow, the gentle hand on your back trying to ease you gives you yet another reason to support your unwanted epiphany. That’s just ridiculous. It’s something natural between friends, isn’t it? Yet, you’d gag at the idea of writing Donghyuck into a song.

You calm down and meet Renjun’s eyes, the glint of something familiar making you pause.

“Water?” he offers, and you straighten.

“I had the stupidest thought,” you say, trying to laugh it off.

You can’t do it. You can’t make light of it with him.

“When do you not?” he says, a soft smile on his face.

You smile awkwardly in response, avoiding his eyes as you rub circles on the soft flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

It’s quiet, much more than not, distant buzzing of the 3 a.m. university cafeteria crowds drifting through the space between you and him.

“Do you ever- Do you ever think about doing it?” Renjun asks.

You blink before feeling warmth on your cheeks.

“Doing what, Renjun? That’s a little too private to ask. I mean, I could answer, of c—”

It doesn’t take long for him to burn bright vermillion at the cheeks.

“I- I didn’t say that,” he defends, stuttering over the words. “I was talking about making music. Do you ever think about it or do you just do it?”

“Oh,” you respond intelligently, the embarrassment making you flush harder. Funny, you used to laugh the loudest at these sorts of mistakes. “I don’t- I don’t know. I think about it after I’ve… made it?”

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

“You… do like it, don’t you?” he asks, something akin to worry in his eyes.

You hum, smiling. “Of course I like it, Renjun.”

No. The truth is, you don’t even know how it makes you feel. The truth is, you do feel sick listening to your own song over and over again. Have you run far enough? Do you have to be running for this?

You seem scared. Is that what he wanted to tell you? You can’t be that easy to see through, you resist. When he held your hand earlier, could he feel it shake?

You’re so afraid that all of this is for naught that you can’t feel it anymore. You hardly make music for yourself, for no one else to hear. Is that what you wanted? When you wrote Not Feeling Spring, were you searching for something you desperately wanted or something you lost? You’re only twenty and you’re aging.

You snap yourself out of the whirlpool of questions to a drowsy Renjun playing with the bracelet around his wrist, lost in his own circle of thoughts.

“I wanted to give up on this,” he whispers suddenly. “I wanted to give up on music.”

You hold your breath till he looks at you, a strange sense of vulnerability that makes you want to reach over the table and share some of the warmth your palm offers.

You’ve already drawn the conclusion.

“You’re not alone,” you say, leaning in with the widest grin.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Are you saying that to comfort me? It barely has any effect. Thanks, th—”

You shake your head, standing up abruptly and scrambling onto the tabletop. It’s the perfect time to be a little ridiculous. Renjun looks around, alarmed, tugging at you to get down which, unfortunately, draws even more attention.

“Raise your hand if you’ve ever wanted to give up on music!”

There’s a moment of pause before laughter erupts, followed by a few cheers and almost as many raised hands as you’d expected. Some of them tell you to get back to your date, or focus on completing overdue assignments—friends and friends of friends. They are music students, after all.

Renjun looks around the place, rosy hued in the face, though he isn’t as angry as you thought he’d be.

“I almost never started,” you say, giggling as you resume in your seat. “Giving up came so much later.”

Renjun laughs. You don’t even have to make music out of it.

“I tried to give up the piano,” he admits, still flushed. “But I couldn’t break the habit of playing against my desk. Even then.”

You smile, resting your chin against your palm. “That sounds just like you. Now tell me, when did you discover flumpool?”

Renjun frowns and you feel an uncharacteristic thump in your chest. You want to draw your finger against his cheeks and the space between his brows, against the strained lines—the thought of it much more scandalous than the action itself.

“I didn’t- My parents didn’t- ugh.” He hesitates. “Look, everyone hated my style of music. My parents, the neighbours, their dogs.

Your eyes soften as you sit up. “I’m sure they didn’t hate it—”

“No, trust me on this one.”

Suddenly the honey tint of his voice is dripping a dangerously low baritone. It doesn’t sound like him and it sends a shiver down your spine, a certain coldness you never thought would seep into you. It is the loneliness of curbed dreams, after all.

“I thought I should’ve given up on music altogether. Became, what, a doctor? A lawyer?” Renjun sighs. “Whatever I do, it shouldn’t be music, right?”

He heaves a sigh in sync with you. There’s a passing moment in between where you can clearly see the apple of his eye, shining a daunting amber and a warmth you can only feel over coffee tables in university cafeterias at midnight.

“But you’re here now because this is the closest you can be to music?” you offer, your smile sheepish.

Renjun laughs, your eyebrows furrowing as he tries to stop. “No. No, classical music was the last option on their list—but it was on the list.”

You smile, although it is small and gentle. And—unlike anything you’ve felt since you jumped onto the adulthood train.

“They like it now, though,” he beams, shoulders relaxing as if rid of a burden.“I mean- They said- They said they’re proud of me.”

When someone decides to confide their happiness to you, it is just as precious.

You look up, eyes bright as you finally get to ruffle his hair. “Well, I’m proud of you too!”

Renjun coughs indiscreetly, shaking his head before facing you. “Th-Thanks. It’s… good to hear.”

“Say it back,” you demand, making Renjun laugh.

“I’m… proud of you,” he says with rose-tinted cheeks.

The midnight chatter grows louder when the two of you pause. A symphony of voices through the area, higher pitches and lower, baritones and trebles. You wonder what people talk about most when you are quiet. You have friends—it’s not like you’re alone, per se. But everyone seems to be running, away from something or towards something. Your bones feel heavy for a second as you stir the coffee. Is it selfish to just want to get to know someone? Neither of you moving a muscle, with laughter that isn’t carried away by the wind.

“I didn’t think I’d be good at anything apart from classical,” he says, reluctance in his mouth. “Sorry about all that ruckus I caused when you asked me to join.”

You raise an eyebrow, nose wrinkling at the apology. “Renjun. It sucks when you apologize.”

He groans. “You’re really annoying, you know that? I was being nice.”

“I know,” you say, grinning. “It was all forgiven a long time ago. Can’t believe you had to say it out loud.”

“Oh, pardon me,” he says, voice rising. “I was taking into consideration your below average understanding of social cues.”

“You’re going to get smacked.”

That night, when you leave Renjun at the intersection to your respective dorms, you have yet another unwanted epiphany. He waves you goodbye with a smile, pale blue T-shirt hanging loose on his shoulders and you wave back as ardently as you can against your prominent heartbeat. Huang Renjun has the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Some days, you take the bus together to and from classes. It’s not like the dorms are far but walks are considerably less fun when you’ve barely rubbed the sleep dust out of your eyes and class started ten minutes ago. Besides, you’re not letting the student bus pass go to waste.

Rattle. Rattle. Woosh.

You yawn and it quickly spreads to Renjun beside you. Classes are over and there’s no practice today. You can hear a popular song play through his earphones and tilt your head to look at him, a suppressed smile on your face. Renjun does a double take when he notices you, a little flustered as he quietly offers the other earbud and you put it on with a short word of thanks.

It is a track by one of Seoul’s favourite bands and you’re not going to lie, say you haven’t fallen prey to its charms. A catchy baseline, engaging drums and attractive vocals—you stop yourself. When was the last time you enjoyed a song without deconstructing it piece by piece? You sigh and Renjun shifts beside you, though no words part from his lips.

Absentmindedly, you find your head drawing nearer to his till they bump once and you startle away, only to laugh at each other. Is this another useless epiphany of yours? That Renjun has a lovely laugh—these are getting out of hand.

You look out the window instead, skyscrapers shiny and metallic as always and with little to offer. Unwittingly, a pout climbs onto your face at the prospect of feelings bubbling up right when you’re setting Renjun up on a date. He doesn’t know, of course. It’s meant to be a surprise and somehow, the little voice in your head won’t stop yelling at maximum volume inside your head about how wrong this is. Is it selfish? To an extent—nothing ever is purely selfless and you haven’t lived long enough to question. So why are you even bothering with this whole surprise?

Because you don’t want to think about the feelings. As if they’re things to be thought about. As if you can throw them away into the trash bin like a crumpled piece of paper.

An elderly couple boards the bus, sharing a large shopping bag as they take slow, careful steps over the aisle. Renjun responds almost at the same time you do, getting up so quickly Renjun has to hold on to the strap so as to not trip over you. The couple thanks you and you nod politely, trying not to bring attention to the earphones tangled around your necks.

You take a step closer in an attempt to separate the wires but it only makes you lose balance, Renjun clutching the cloth at your back so you don’t faceplant right into him. The other hand hangs overhead on the strap, grasping so tight his skin has turned red.

He glances at the old couple once, blood rushing to his cheeks at something and he turns his focus back to you.

“The- The wires- We should—”

Young love isn’t what this is. How silly. There’s enough of that all around.

“That’s what I was trying,” you interrupt. “Wait.”

You use your hands to pull the bud from your ear, trying to figure out how the loop even coiled this way. Renjun’s hand pushes against your waist at the sudden jerk, your soul almost leaving your body at the unexpected feeling of falling down. You breathe out, cheeks getting warmer. This isn’t quite uncomfortable, though.

When you look up to meet Renjun’s eyes, you feel something faint, a hint of something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“There,” you say, the wires all out of their miserable twining.

Renjun barely nods, the music still blasting loud and clear through the buds. His hand still holds the strap for balance, and the other still holds you, for reasons private.

There’s a warm flush over his face when he mumbles about crowded buses and the afternoon heat, eyes averted to every corner but you.

You laugh. Renjun is adorable when he least expects to be. And when you least expect him to be, he’s even terribly attractive. You swear by the way he’s looking at you, if you leaned in a little further, he’d let you kiss him.

Wait, what?

You sober up quickly, in a moment of clarity you do not wish to have. You’ve never felt the weight of the feelings this intense. Yours isn’t the name he should be calling out so affectionately. Her. Anyone else. You were so sure of it. Huang Renjun’s fleeting interest in romance doesn’t involve you—cannot involve you.

That’s why you’re doing him (and yourself) a favour. Besides, you promised it anyway, didn’t you?

You gulp.

When did you start explaining yourself for everything you do?

Step, screech, step.

“Where the fuck are you even taking me?” Renjun complains from behind you, light on his foot. “You said it’s not too far away.”

“It’s a surprise!” You stop walking to cross your arms.

“I hate it when you say that.”

How would he react? You think he’ll get a little angry, maybe scowl at you or even yell a little. You haven’t been able to look him in the eye longer than two seconds for about a week now.

“Ta-da!”

You stretch your arms to point towards the new cafe in town. Renjun looks at you and then the cafe and back again.

“You’re taking me on a coffee date?”

You choke on air, coughing before you can clear your throat and clarify.

“Not- Not me. Remember I promised you a date with—”

“No.”

“Yes! Wait, is that disbelieving no or are you saying you’re not going to go?”

Renjun closes his eyes and sighs, as if dealing with a toddler. “I’m not going. Why didn’t you say anything? I’m not prepared or anything!”

Something takes a tumble and falls inside your chest. You smile at him nevertheless.

“Don’t be shy now. She’s waiting, come on.”

Renjun shifts his weight from foot to foot, but it seems equally uncomfortable on each. He peers intently at you, looking up and down your face before pressing his lips together.

“Have fun,” you wish.

You push Renjun towards the door and he hesitates, some part of you expecting a little more resistance. He shrugs, although he seems to be holding back a smile. This isn’t the time, you tell yourself.

You turn on your heel before you lose your final excuse to be able to say that you are not completely enamored with Huang Renjun.

The afternoon would be more peaceful if it weren’t for Donghyuck and Renjun yelling at each other. This time, you’re not to blame.

“That’s not how you tie a bow tie!” Donghyuck complains, though Renjun won’t let him anywhere near.

“I know you’re trying to get back at me for drawing on your face last Saturday,” Renjun yells back. “But this is the pre-annual concert. You’re not fucking anything up.”

Donghyuck grumbles before settling down. Four music performance majors and yet none of them know how to do a bow tie—if it weren’t for you, Renjun might have ended up with his usual askew one. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, and you’d just rather not look at him too long anyway.

Formal white shirt, a much debated black bow tie and polished black dress shoes on Renjun aren’t strange to look at—in fact, they quite suit him when, despite its striking colour, his hair is parted neatly to the side. But they’re all so out of place in the bandroom, monochrome against messes, that you start to wonder if you simply think too much about him. That all of his colours and melodies are just there for you to notice.

It’s not true, of course.

But when did you become a cynic?

“I’m going out,” Donghyuck says, huffing, “Why are they taking so long to buy ramen?”

Oh no. No, no, no. You try to mask your panic. Is one person enough to check up on Jaemin and Jeno? Would it be weird if you left too? Before you can answer those questions, you and Renjun are the only ones left in the room. You stand awkwardly by the couch, Renjun a few feet away, smoothing out the creases on his shirt.

You clear your throat, bringing his attention to you.

Nice going.

“So how was your date?”

You had to ask that, didn’t you?

The voice in your head has never been so loud before. When your question goes unanswered, you look up from the highly interesting floorboards to Renjun trying very hard to fight a snort.

“We talked about the recitals, extra lessons. Joked about you being an idiot.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Chaerim’s not interested in guys.” Renjun laughs. “I thought you knew!”

There’s a pause.

“Wait, you were serious about setting me up with her?”

You stare a little too intensely at the space between your feet. Why would you choose now of all times to be coy? You keep yourself from swearing out loud.

“I- I didn’t know, okay?”

You feel the heat over your cheeks, the sound of everything other than your own heartbeat drowning out. A few more seconds pass and you worry more.

“Don’t set me up on dates,” Renjun says, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’ll never work out.”

“What? Why?”

Renjun falters only to cover it up. “I- I… Why do you keep avoiding me?”

You can’t answer that.

“Setting me up on a date, never looking at me when you talk to me—are you going by the book or something?”

You hold your breath. He’s not misunderstanding and it only makes matters worse.

“All that because you don’t want to be in love with me?”

“Renjun, that’s not—”

“So what is it?”

You look up from your restless fingers and regret it almost immediately. The way Renjun looks at you, it damn near breaks your heart. His nose is a pale shade of red, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with undecided words.

“Am I- Am I dreaming everything up? Just tell me you don’t like me. I thought I made myself obvious.”

You can feel your pulse against your eardrums, ready to burst open any second.

“Renjun. It’s not about this,” you say, voice strangely low. “It’s about music—It’s always about music. I can’t risk anything.”

“Risk? What risk? You’re afraid you’re going to stop making music when you’re with me?”

“No—”

“You just want your songs on the Billboard charts?

“And what if I do? I just want to be heard—”

You can barely breathe at the lack of distance between the two of you. Renjun looks straight into your eyes and you remember why your heart has been hammering in the first place.

“So it isn’t about music.”

You fall silent. It’s not wrong to want to succeed. But it’s never been about that. You were preparing yourself for a race while you repeated your love for it that was never there. Music is not a race and so, it is not the race you love.

“I didn’t want to be rich or famous,” Renjun says, voice lower than usual. “I don’t want to be rich or famous.”

But a musician does not want to be forgotten, does he?

For once, Renjun is fearless and you are not.

“There are worse things,” Renjun says, breath against your cheek and a rapid pulsing in your wrists. You look from his eyes to lips before breathing out slowly, eyelids growing heavy despite yourself.

The sudden bang makes the two of you jump away from each other.

Donghyuck kicks the door open, hands occupied with steaming instant ramen cups and Jeno walks in with the sprite.

“Jaemin’s paying and we forgot our wallets,” Jeno offers an explanation when you raise an eyebrow.

You clear your throat awkwardly as the two scrutinize you with eyes you’re not yet ready to meet. You know you’ll never hear the end of this and better yet, you can pretend it never happened.

“Aren’t you supposed to get going?” Jeno asks, struggling to balance this month’s entire supply of ramen while Donghyuck holds the top of the pile.

Renjun responds with a soft ‘yeah’, eyes glancing at you once before he grabs his coat.

“I’ll see you for practice then.”

With that, the sounds inside your chest draw to a deafening close.

You’d think Doyoung would perform with his own band at his brother’s wedding.

(“I don’t want to work on the day my brother gets married.”

“I thought you work as a bartender?”

“Oh, dear.”)

You’re not complaining, of course. The longer you spend in the bandroom, the more suffocated you feel. You can’t meet Renjun’s eyes and neither can he meet yours. You rejected him, for fuck’s sake. It cannot get any more awkward than that. Any distraction will do.

This might be the first time you’ve been to a wedding on a Thursday night. At the very least, you’re happy about it being an outdoor wedding, the cool night air refreshing you the moment you step into the garden. It’s fairly large and you know Doyoung’s brother is an actor, but it never really struck you how wealthy that meant.

“There’s a chocolate fountain?!” Donghyuck gasps, walking towards it before Jaemin grabs him by the collar.

“Stage. We’re being called.”

Donghyuck massages his neck before he decides to give everyone an unnecessary pep talk.

“Look, Renjun, you better sing like that’s your ex, who you’re still in love with, getting married,” Donghyuck turns to advise a deadpanning Renjun.

“I- what? You should do that yourself.”

You smile at them encouragingly, smacking Donghyuck a little too hard on the back (you need payback for him “borrowing” your lunch on Monday) and stand at the sidelines. Donghyuck’s guitar seems to be the brightest thing in the venue, followed by Renjun’s hair. Unfortunately for Jeno, they couldn’t get the whole drum set in and the puppy dog look on his face when he sees the box-shaped cajón might have affected you some other day.

They perform as usual, if not more enthusiastic to be in front of a crowd that isn’t drunk or worn out or both. The love songs you wrote came to be useful, after all. The muse of them, however, stands out even now.

This time, your heart skips a beat to meet Renjun’s eyes. And he doesn’t take them off you the entire performance.

The soft vibrato of his voice doesn’t fade easy, the crowd clapping along to the song with encouraging laughter. You move to the drinks table—it’s a good thing the wedding has a no kids rule because there’s alcohol you haven’t heard of at the bar table. Or maybe it isn’t a good thing. You’d love to see the look on Doyoung’s face when some rebellious twelve year-old chugs a shot of vodka. The thought makes you giggle.

You keep your word, even if you were drunk when you’d said it. You didn’t drink at any of the gigs, mostly because Doyoung wouldn’t offer anything for free, but a deal’s a deal. This doesn’t count, does it?

You take the shot after a few moments of contemplation. You’d ordered it on impulse and whatever dare of whim you have left in you.

Unbeknownst to you, the songs had stopped about five minutes ago, enough time for Renjun and the rest to appear at your side.

“Doyoung never said there’d be alcohol,” Donghyuck says, not trying very hard to hide the sparkles in his eyes.

Renjun doesn’t say a word, not even at the obvious flush over your cheeks from the drinks.

“I need to go to the washroom,” you say, wobbling as you stand.

“Woah, (name),” Jaemin says, steadying you. “Take someone with you.”

“I’ll go.”

You avoid Renjun’s eyes, even now. Looks like shame isn’t as easy to wash away as it seems.

You can’t hear anything apart from your pulse, a rather disarming thing to have to listen to when it’s for long enough. You walk wordlessly to the building, locating the washroom after a few twists and turns and Renjun waits patiently for you outside.

It’s always bizarre to see yourself in the mirror of a public washroom, especially with alcohol in your system and a flush over your cheeks that you think makes you look cute. You rinse your face and dry it before you exit.

Renjun leans back against the wall, eyes glazed over in thoughts he spills only occasionally. He looks gentle in the fairly lit hallway, under lemon-coloured lights.

“Renjun,” you call absentmindedly.

He straightens immediately and for the first time in a while, you stare at each other for longer than four seconds.

“I don’t want you to feel awkward around me,” you begin. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean—”

“Cut it out.”

You feel a drop in your heart at the harshness in his tone. Even so, you don’t feel any less drawn to him.

“Don’t be like that,” you say, voice nearing a whine. “You know I’m not any good at this. I… I have so much work to do.”

“Are you so insecure that you can't trust yourself?” he hisses, and somehow the truth of it doesn’t lessen the euphoria of proximity with him.

“You have pretty eyes, Renjun,” you say, but his eyes are not what you’re looking at.

Renjun looks down, sighing out heavily. “Stop this, (name). Don’t play.”

You smile. “This isn’t a drama, you know?”

It really isn’t, but the touch you're craving has been collecting, drip drip drip, and now it’s ready to boil over in a climax befitting any stupid drama. There should be a soundtrack to go with it, right? Renjun’s face so near to yours, lips full and pink, and heartbeat erratic under dim lights. Temptation has never been a sin to you. Then, what are you afraid of?

For a moment, Arctic Monkey’s Snap Out of It loops in your head.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, the last shred of your senses fallen apart.

He falls silent, at a loss for words you don’t want to hear.

You can’t blame the alcohol. It’s not that you wouldn’t do this sober—it’s that you would definitely do this sober, and all would be ruined just like that. So now, while you’re under the thinly veiled excuse of being drunk, you might as well say it.

“I want to kiss you,” you repeat, bolder.

Oh, sudden proximity can make you aware of so many things. For instance, Renjun has changed his cologne, less minty and more citrus. You aren’t even looking at him when you lean closer, pressing your lips softly and yet carelessly against his. You feel returned pressure and for a moment, the wash of numbness.

Renjun pulls you away by the shoulder, eyes wide in panic.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you apologizing? God, I hate you. I could listen to you speaking forever.”

You bury your face in Renjun’s neck and breathe in. He gives in almost too soon, a hand gently resting against the back of your head while his arm wraps around your waist.

“Let’s get you home,” he whispers.

You feel him shift, the rhythm of his pulse loud in his jugular, and somehow it makes you breathe a sigh of relief. The night fades little by little into the chatter of crowds, to the the hum of a car engine and finally, to the inevitable quiet of your own bedroom.

It’s a Friday. They’re supposed to be nice.

Of course, it would be were it not for a list of things. One: your fading hangover. Two: the vague regret of a drunk kiss. Three: your friends you can’t tell a word to. You might just die of shame before the autumnal existential dread settles in.

“Do you guys have any idea whose number this is?” Donghyuck asks, holding the handkerchief open for the rest of you to see. “I don’t want to be accidentally related to Doyoung hyung.”

The night is bleeding into the evening outside as Jaemin stands up to flip the light switches. You stay curled up at one side of the couch, Renjun by the keys as he tries to figure out a tune and a state of calm that would be perfect if you weren’t falling apart inside. The bandroom always made you feel at ease, but it doesn't seem to be working its charm now.

“You drink too much,” Jaemin states. “You would’ve remembered if you didn’t have an entire bottle of soju.”

“I wasn’t the only one,” he defends, sending you a pointed look. You roll your eyes. Donghyuck never did learn to take the blame.

“Didn’t Renjun and (name) leave early?” Jeno asks innocently. “What were you guys doing for so long by the washroom?”

Renjun presses on several of the keys at a force too hard, the haphazard symphony bringing everyone’s attention to him.

He awkwardly clears his throat. “Home—the dorms, er. We went back. Taeil hyung drove us.”

You don’t know about the atmosphere, but you could definitely cut something with a knife right now. Your eyes shift from person to person, nothing unusual about them except for the two of you.

“Does anyone want to come get ramen? I’m hungry,” Jaemin suggests quietly.

Jeno shrugs, getting up.

“I just had a cup of ramen,” Donghyuck begins before breaking into a smile. “Too much ramen can never hurt.”

“I’ll pass,” you say, ready to fall asleep any moment, if it somehow alleviates the messy scribbles in your head.

“Me too,” Renjun says, back to playing out the tunes softly.

Your fingers tap against the armrest of the couch, occasionally scratching it out of boredom. The atmosphere is still just as thick but you can't say much about it hanging there.

“You’re not sleeping,” Renjun says suddenly, more of a statement than a question. “You look tired.”

“Yeah.” It’s all you can manage.

“Is your hangover gone?”

You cough when you try to answer, getting more nervous with each passing moment.

Renjun slowly walks towards the coffee table, picking up the bottle of water to offer it to you. You utter a short ‘thanks’ and before he can get back, you tug at his sleeve. Your breathing is sharp but you don’t react much when he sits beside you, legs outstretched in front of him.

“Your roots are showing,” you note, hand involuntarily reaching out before you stop yourself.

Renjun sighs. “What’s wrong? You don’t- You don’t have to—”

He clears his throat.

“—You don’t have to pretend around me.”

There’s a rustle of cloth as he shifts to turn to you, eyes concerned when they look over.

“I’m just...sad,” you admit, the feeling weighing down when you do. “What, you never have days like these?”

Everyone does, don’t they? The truth is, sometimes you get a little sick listening to your songs. If you don’t hate it at least once, is it worth it at all?

The monthly breakdowns have taken a hard turn now that you don’t have much to do. No exams, no more weekly gigs due to Odd Fruit’s renovation and most importantly, hardly any inspiration. You don’t know how to do things unless you’re on the run. It’s so stupid.

You speak of dreams and yet, yours feel void.

“I do. A lot, some weeks.”

Renjun hesitates. You know he’s dying to talk about last night, he’s never been the sort to let feelings rot inside his stomach. But how do you tell him that despite knowing life’s full of ups and downs, no one’s bothered to explain to you which is which? You’ve never lived life with clarity.

Sometimes life hands you tangerines instead of lemons. Sometimes they’re still as sour.

You look back at Renjun, heart churning with feelings you don’t understand. From wide eyes to his full lips, there’s a way you can’t help but stare. It wasn’t the alcohol—you still want to kiss him. Maybe you should start with an apology, maybe those are meant to be said out loud sometimes.

“I’m sorry I… I ‘m sorry I kissed you,” you say, finally. “Without warning.”

You wonder how you turned into this. Head over heels for something that might not even be real.

“I’m not mad,” he mumbles, “Just don’t go around kissing strangers.”

You let out a short laugh, rubbing your arm. It’s not like you to explain yourself but for him, you’d spill every single thought that crosses your head. Does he know that? You’d never let him but now—you can’t say you mind.

Quiet.

“I- I may not always know what I’m doing, Renjun,” you start. “I want things and I don’t know how to get them. Sometimes I don’t even know what I truly want.”

There’s a short pause when Renjun draws nearer.

“You want to make music,” he says with certainty, gaze trailing over your eyes, then nose, then lips. “You want to have fun…”

Your heartbeat quickens despite everything.

“...And right now, you want to kiss me.”

It’s partly the confidence, and partly the fact that his lips are less than three inches from yours, that you close the gap without hesitation.

It’s different—of course, it’s different this time. There’s no goddamn alcohol and the amount of clarity you can taste with your mouths pressed together is more than you’ve ever had. All the sounds in the world fall silent, replaced by the rhythm of your lips moving against his. Renjun’s hair is soft and he hums when you run your fingers through them, not song enough but still full of melody.

You pull apart after a few minutes, breathing heavily before you push your lips against him again, rising to keep your leg on either side of him. For a moment, there’s a sinking feeling and then a soaring one, and it evens out to the mellow drumming of your heart against your chest as Renjun holds your waist with the same delicate desire as ever.

The second time you pull apart, Renjun breaks into the widest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You can’t help but reciprocate, burying your head against his shoulder.

“I think you should get off me.”

You pull back, frowning severely.

“Oh, that’s very romantic,” you huff, eyebrows furrowed as you move to sit beside him, crossing your arms.

“Hey.”

You look at him and he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the back. Somehow, the gesture calms a part of you down, a part that hasn’t been calm for a very long time. You smile without realizing, leaning in for another kiss when the door slams open.

You yelp, clutching Renjun’s hand harder with just about the same force he does.

“Jeno.”

You turn around to see Jaemin glaring at Jeno on his knee, Donghyuck fallen over his leg and both of their faces scrunched in pain. Jaemin shoots the two of you an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of his head.

“Did you guys know this room isn’t all that soundproof? I can’t believe the neighbours didn’t complain.”

The tip of Renjun’s ears flare red, and he points an accusing finger at the three of them.

“You were spying on us!”

Jaemin clears his throat but Donghyuck snorts before he can say anything.

“You’re still holding hands, lover boy.”

The statement flusters Renjun further but he doesn’t let go.

“Look, did the two of you think we’re stupid?” Donghyuck continues. “God, we thought your pining romance would, like, break up our band or something.”

You flush deeper, averting your eyes.

“You cry at romantic comedies,” Renjun provokes.

Donghyuck stutters something incomprehensive before crossing his arms indignantly.

“We’re glad you’re dating now!” Jaemin butts in. “Ah, I can’t wait for all the love songs. The two of you do great on those!”

Renjun turns a brighter shade of red. You’re not going to be the one to tell Jaemin that he’s not helping at all but you sigh instead, resting your forehead against Renjun’s shoulder.

“Ugh,” Donghyuck makes a gagging sound. “Does this mean you’re going to be all heart eyes in here? Right in front of my innocent eyes?”

He shuts up when he receives four glares all at once, the air turning dry.

“I’m guessing you guys didn’t buy any ramen,” Renjun says, sighing.

“Shall we go?” you ask, looking at him.

He nods, smiling at you.

“You guys don’t mind us crashing your date, do you?” Jaemin says, wrapping an arm each around the two of you.

“I’m not complaining.” You shrug.

“I heard there’s a new flavour. Tastes like crap apparently,” Renjun says.

There’s collective laughter and Renjun beams, walking over to the door with you in tow. Every once in a while, you don’t mind peeling off the layers of a tangerine, especially since winter is near.

You were right, Renjun did change his perfume to something more citrus-y. It’s the little things that build up in simplicity and it’s the little things that give everything flavour, from songs to journeys.

Crackle. Shrrk. Rustle.

“Dream,” you say, the noodles slipping through the chopsticks.

The others look at you quizzically, as if you’d suggested the most ridiculous thing ever.

“That’s the name. Our band!”

Under the convenience store lights, it somehow makes sense—and that’s one of the only moments of clarity you need.

#nct dream scenarios #nct renjun #cznnet #neowritingsnet #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #renjun fluff #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream #moonwrites #anyway hope you guys have fun this is way longer than i intended for it to be i am mad #and i know i only recommended songs from idol bands but it's always good to check out the krock scene lol!!#rock band!au #tw:alcohol #so this wont show up on tags heart been broke so many times </3

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yolkyeomie · 4 years ago

Text

Crescendo | Kang Yeosang

summary — The beating of a heart is like a crescendo, screaming louder and louder in one's chest until it's reached maximum capacity, and you’re about ready to burst.

word count — 8.6k words

pairing — yeosang x female!reader

genre —violinist + college au, band au there if you look around a little bit, fluff with like a hint of angst in the later parts

disclaimer — SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT,,, this is more of prologue than anything tbh. also I have almost zero knowledge on college and violins so if this is horrible I’m so sorry. also typos. lots of typos.

part I | part II | part III

There was just something about summer that you liked so much. You just couldn't exactly put your finger on what.

Maybe you liked the sunny days that it would bring? The giant ball of light in the sky beaming down at full power onto every human in sight. It would illuminate the world with a golden glow, bringing out the more natural and earthy colors hidden from the other seasons. The heat would call for unplanned trips to the cool waters and hot sand of the beaches or a quickly made dash to the nearest frozen ice cream shop. Perhaps it was because there was no more school, no more time needed to spend on slaving away for hours at a desk just to not retain any knowledge given.

Or maybe you liked it because it was the time you’d see children the happiest. Every time you biked along the sidewalk to and from your home you’d come across a playground almost always filled to the brim with the joyous sounds of laughter. Children scattered around the playgrounds like little ants to a picnic, grabbing whatever they found the most intriguing for the day. Some would be swinging, some would be sliding, some would even be chasing each other around without any of the equipment catching their attention at all.

However, there was a possibility that you enjoyed the summertime because of the theater your town held. It wasn't very big compared to the ones that could be found in the big cities of your country, but it was nice nonetheless.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

Every year your high school would hold recitals for their students in that theater. They would use these performances as a way to showcase their students' growing talents in the art of music or to spotlight their shyer students who never had gotten a chance to show everyone what they were made of. You weren’t in any sort of music group nor did you know how to play any instruments, so you never participated. But you did show up to every recital you could.

When you were in tour first year the only reason you had attended the performance was because your English teacher had promised to raise their overall grade for the year if they did. You were a decent student, overall you had average grades but wasn't the most outstanding person in your class. A few extra points to curve your grades were always appreciated so you had planned on attending the performance.

You had tried to grab a couple of friends to go with you, but all of them coward out when they got the chance. Some would say they were too busy, some would outright tell you they didn't want to sit through a performance they had no interest in. So you ended up simply going with your family, more begrudged than you originally were for the recital.

You had sat through choir members and members of the school's small orchestra and band repeating nearly the same song over and over again. Each song had a different tune, maybe a different style depending on how much creative liberty the singer or player gave themselves. One song was sung a bit louder than the others, another song was played by a small thrown together orchestra than simply a soloist, but they were all the same.

It was boring, and you were growing tired of listening to the same thing constantly. The only thing willing you to stay in your seat the entire time with the arm crushing strength of your mother and your need to get extra points on your grades for the year.

Near the end of the recital was when you had gotten hooked. Your family had finally decided they were going to pack it up for the night, her father had to work early in the morning and you were going to be thrown over towards your grandparents for summer. Just before you could have risen out of your chair to leave behind your parents, you heard it. A different melody than the ones that have been rocking your brain that night.

There was a boy walking on the stage, probably no taller than you was at the time. He was tiny for a first year boy, probably one of the shortest in his class as well. His hair was like a fluffy brown bunny's tail, bouncing and tousling itself around with every step he took. There was a string instrument in his hands, from what you could see was a red-tinged wood violin. You couldn't quite see the expression on his face either though, due to the distance you were from the theater stage.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he plucked one of the strings, letting the note resonate through the theater and bounce off the walls and into their ears. He had played a note, on a different key from the other performers. He was playing a song that his fellow violinists hadn't picked. He was different.

The sound was like a siren's song that grabbed the audience's attention and placed it to the stage. His melody started out soft and somber, almost as if the violin itself was conveying its unspoken emotions. The violinist was trying to use those emotions his instrument lent him to serenade the tears in the audience's eyes to fall and hit the ground simultaneously, creating their own beat to his song.

After a moment of enticing the audience to his performance, he sped up his pace. His quiet song suddenly grew in size until it overpowered every other sound in the room. He strummed each string with a quickness you didn't even believe was possible, his bow striking each note like it was powerful enough to create an earthquake. In a sense, it was like he and the violin had become one being, his string instrument becoming an extension of his arm as he played.

The audience whispered in wonder and amazement of the boy's talents, unable to take their eyes away from his figure. It was an enchanting sound so you couldn't blame them. The violinist had brought you into a world completely different from reality, where every object and plant in sight was made out of his musical chords.

How does a boy, barely over the age of fifteen, have this much power in his hands? You would be cursing yourself if you didn't grant him the title of prodigy right then and there.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't listen to the rest of his alluring song. Your family had dragged you out of the theater to finally retreat to their humble abode for the night. After that night you had declared to yourself that you’d find the violinist who played that song, whether you had to search all summer for him or dig around your school for him. You’d attend every recital and every performance your school's small orchestra had just to get him to play for you again.

However, you lucked out each time you tried. Your school's orchestra didn't allow students outside of their instrumentalists into the classrooms. The violinist boy was too short for you to find in a crowd at their performances either. You even tried to find someone who might be close to him, but no one seemed to step up to the plate. This went on for the rest of your high school years. The only time you could see him where those days after the school year had ended, listening to him play those high energy tunes and somber melodies for his recital before he disappeared from existence once more.

That was, until now.

Plus you made a little bit of money on the side as well, and who didn't like money? Sure most of it was going to your tuition for college but there were times where you liked to splurged on your own interests every once and awhile.

"You seem tired," a feminine voice commented, making you turn around to face her. It was a girl, around your age, walking towards you, her long sleeves rolled up against her arms to mirror the way her shorts looked. She sat down on the pavement next to you, handing you a water bottle ice cold to the touch. "I would be too if I rode around in this crazy heat. I'm surprised you haven't melted at the mere light of the sun yet."

"I almost did," you responded, taking the water from her hands gratefully. "Today was unreasonably hot... I felt like I was sitting right in the middle of hell. And the fact that my bike is made out of metal, too? It's a miracle I didn't get third degree burns or something."

The girl went quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought before speaking again. "You know I can always do it for you? The delivering stuff. It's my family's business anyway, I should be helping them out, not relying on you to do all of the hard work for me."

"Are you serious?" you questioned, suppressing the unusually strong urge to laugh. "You can't even ride a bike or skate. Nor do you have a car either, it'll take you hours to get from one house to the next. And I like the money I earn from doing this for you, I can't get a job anywhere else so this is just perfect for me."

"But still!" She complained, a pouting donning her lips as you screwed open the bottle cap. "I feel bad seeing you bike along in this hot ass weather for my family! I gotta do something to give you... at least a little relief."

You laughed at her desperation, placing the water by your side to face her fully. "The relief you can give me is not playing your cello so loud in the morning. You play wonderfully, trust me, but it's so loud and I'm so tired." you clarified, reminiscing on every time she'd walk up to her house with the sound of a cello's notes wavering through the air.

The girl wasn't in their school's orchestra, she had picked up on the instrument as a hobby. She didn't have a desire to play it in a school setting or professionally no matter how much everyone would suggest otherwise. Yet she suddenly began to really start practicing more often when her next door neighbor had moved in two years ago. You remembered exactly how frustrated the girl was when she discovered that he played guitar at maximum volume in the middle of the night without any regard for anyone else.

To counteract his annoying behavior, she'd open up all the windows in her house and began to play her cello as loud as she physically could in the morning times. It became a war of the instrumentalists after that and neither of them seemed like they were going to stop any time soon.

"Oh you know I can't do that," She responded, glaring at the house to their left where the guitarist resided. "He'll take it as me surrendering to him. I don't even want to think about what he'll do in the middle of the night once I stop. Probably bass boost his guitar so that it's even louder than normal! Oh god, I won't ever get any sleep if he does that."

You found it funny really. The two had never even met each other face to face. "Right... and we don't want that happening do we?" The girl shook her head vigorously in response to your words, taking your sarcasm very seriously. "I still think you can at least tone it down a little bit... this is our last year, in a few months we'll be dragged off into a bigger city to attend colleges and universities for another four or more years. Are you really going to be playing your cello first thing in the morning in your dormitory?"

"Well..." the girl pauses, taking your words into consideration. "No... I won't really need to since I'm not bringing it with me."

"Exactly!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands together and giving the girl a mocking smile. "Now I think you should at least go over to that boy's house and settle this raging war before you move onto better things. Make amends with him, he might even become a new friend of yours for the future. If not, you're not gonna see him again. There's a very high possibility that he's not going to the same college as you, or that he might not be going to college at all!"

She rolled her eyes at your suggestion, forcing herself off of the ground reluctantly. "Fine. I'll go make amends with him or whatever. But I'll only do it if you give up on the violinist boy from the recitals."

You stiffened at the mention of your high school goal, your very unsuccessful goal of finding him and making him play a song for you. "It's like you said, this is our last year here as teenagers. You've been trying to find him longer than I've been waging this musical war on my neighbor. It's about time to lay to rest, you. Seriously, it's more painful to watch than those terribly edited movies from my parents' watch for the "nostalgia"."

"Ouch there was no need to stoop that low," you mumbled, making the girl laugh in turn. "But I guess you're right. I've failed at finding him for this long, I might as well just give up now."

The girl nodded before patting your shoulders in reassurance. "If you really want to hear someone play music so bad for you, you can always ask me. I know a cello sounds nothing like a tiny violin but I can always try?"

"Actually that doesn't sound like a bad idea," you mumbled after a moment of thinking.

"Perfect!" The girl hummed, nearly jumping with excitement to show off her talents and pleasing your several years long urge to have someone play for you. "Usually I only play for my family but I'm very willing to show off what I've been working on. There's this one song I've using to annoy the guitarist boy in the morning and—"

"Go," you reminded her, your smile growing wider at her friend geeking out about her work. "Go get your cello and actually play it for me."

She nodded at your words, skipping on her feet as if she was as light as a feather towards her house. You knew it would be a bit of a struggle in moving her instrument from her room to the outdoors but if the girl was willingly and happily doing it, she had no reason to stop her.

It was a little funny though, how much you were surrounded by people who were gifted and talented in the form of music. Your school's orchestra knew you because of how you’d always try and snatch a peek into their classroom and attended their performances. Your closest friend was a cellist, but only played for hobby and the boy next door was a guitarist. All these connections started happening because a boy you had been chasing after for four years was a violinist.

You'd think you’d pick up some sort of instrument to attract them to you, and trust and believe you tried. You attempted to start playing many instruments after that summer night in your first year. Guitar, flute, piano, trumpet, you even tried to learn the violin yourself. You just weren't musical gifted, you didn't have the patience nor the ears to learn any sort of instrument that passed your way. The best you could do was play a sad tune on the kazoo or laugh into a harmonica.

It's even funnier when other’s learn that your mother used to sing and play the piano while your father played the clarinet when they were in high school. Go ahead and laugh, you knew you were a musical disappointment. Music was practically flowing strong in your blood and you sucked at it. Don't even get started on dancing either, it was a frightening sight to see. Those who could live to tell the tale never told the tale to anyone.

A melody began to float through the air once your friend disappeared into her house, catching you off guard. It wasn't the sound of an electric guitar, shocking the hair and making your skin prickle with its overbearing and booming sound. It was soft and sweet, vibrating through the air as if it was playing with the wind that blew by every few minutes. You could immediately identify the instrument as a violin, it's slightly strained notes from the bow connecting with the strings were all too familiar to you.

You turned towards the guitarist's house where the song was the loudest. To your knowledge, the boy didn't play any other instrument than the guitar. Yet the violin's sweet yet sorrowful song was coming from his house. Without even thinking you rose off the ground, following the song's notes like it was your guide. You had heard the door of your friend's house open again, signaling that the girl had successfully brought her cello from her room to the front of her house. Unfortunately for her, you were walking a little faster than she could drag her cello case.

"Y/N?" The girl called, trying to catch your attention. "Y/N, where are you going?"

You stood in front of the guitarist boy's house, right before where the balcony was hanging. The door to the balcony was ajar, letting the cool afternoon air into the room and releasing the melody of the violin out. "Is that the guitarist boy's room?" you called out to her friend, not taking your eyes off of the balcony. Just as you spoke the violin came to a screeching stop as if the mere sound of your voice was disrupting the flow of its song.

"No," the girl responded after abandoning her cello and running to your side. She pointed to the other side of the house where the window's blinds were closed yet light still shined through them. "His room is right across from mine, I should know I get the brunt of the blow every time he strums his stupid guitar."

Your voices dropped into pure silence when you saw something moving in their direction from the balcony. The door to the outside area slowly screeched open as the figure on the other side pulled on its door handle, stepping onto the wood floor of the balcony and letting the floorboards creak under their weight. Your eyes widened at the sight of a red-tinged violin, it's body scratched from its long term usage and its color dull from the lighting the setting sun had given them.

A boy stepped into view after the violin, the brown hair bouncing on his head like a bunny's tail. His resting face looked like you were staring at a statue, unable to catch any hint of movement in most of his features unless he blinked his eyes every few seconds. Right beside his eyes was some sort of mark, more of a rosy color than the rest of rather pale skin. He must not leave his house that much. After a few moments of silence, he leaned over the balcony's hand railing and spoke, "What do you want?"

The girl beside you glanced between the boy and you frantically, trying to piece two and two together. "you... is that the—"

"I want," you yelled up to him, interrupting your friend's question to respond to the boy above them. A smile began to play on your lips as you spoke, excitement festering up in your chest. You had found him. You had found the violinist from your first year. "I want you to play for me one of your best songs yet."

II.

There was just something about mornings you hated, no matter the day of the week. They'd always leave you more exhausted than you were the night before, whether you had gone to sleep late or not.

Maybe it's because of the dorm room you stayed in, assigned the room the moment you had gotten accepted into your university. It wasn't tiny, but it was definitely much smaller than your room at home. Your belongings barely had enough legroom with your roommate's whole entire area taking up more than half of the room. Despite being rather clean, to an extent, and cool during the day it was also incredibly hot at night.

A few months back the air conditioning unit for the floor you lived on broke down due to age. The university had reassured the students that they'd be looking into the broken unit and the technicians would be coming in and out of the building to fix it. However, they were rather slow with the process. Instead of just moving toward the third floor where the problem had started, they were moving from room to room on each floor the building had.

Apparently, they were just going to fix the problem in one go, however one go suddenly turned into a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months.

Thankfully they were on the edge of the summer season, the crisp breeze of the autumn air in October beginning to blow throughout the city. However that breeze simply abandoned them every time the night fell, the hallways and the common room being filled to the brim with students trying to escape the blazing heat. One would think it would be much cooler around the nighttime, so did they.

You weren't the heaviest of sleepers either, which meant you'd wake up at even the slightest vibration of a phone. One could only imagine your reaction when your alarm clock suddenly blared its ear piercing wake up call. The irritating buzzing of the built on alarm would always shock you out of bed like a cat. Yet even when you knew you were wide awake, you constantly struggled to force yourself up and out of your room. If time would allow it, you would lay in your very warm and comfortable spot in the bed for at least an hour or more.

What's even worse for you was that your dormitory was co-ed, which meant that next door to you was a group of boys who were sharing a room for the school year. They were loud, constantly moving around in the middle of the night, and screaming at random times of the day which usually ended up being the time that you used to study. There were always noise complaints about those students. No one on their floor, or the floor above and below, like them that much. Yet they never seemed to tone down the problem, they made them worse with every noise complaint that was filled to their resident assistance.

Every time they'd get a noise complaint, they'd go and find someone else who was just a little too loud one day and pin the blame on them. It was a way to show that everyone in the building made a commotion and that they shouldn't be the only ones punished for it. You didn't really care about what they were doing until you had suddenly become a target one day.

"I'm sorry, what?" you questioned them, leaning up against the door frame with your arms crossed. In front of you stood the two boys that lived in the dorm next to you, nearly towering over you like the buildings in the city thanks to the monstrous amount of height. They appeared to be up to no good when they had randomly shown up, and you were absolutely right.

"Are you the one who has been playing that music for the past three days? What was it... classical music?" He asked, tugging at his hair as he spoke. He glanced towards his roommate for confirmation, who nodded his head vigorously in response to his question. "Are you a music major or something? Maybe in the orchestra? If not it's been blasting really loudly lately and my roommate here has a majority of his classes at eight am. Right, Jaehyun?"

The boy didn't seem like he was on board with being used as an excuse at first, raising his eyebrow and staring at his roommate in confusion before turning to you. "Right, I have to get up so early for all my classes. I'd really appreciate it if you keep the violins and cymbals and triangles to like a minimum so that it doesn't bother me anymore."

"If not we'll take it to the RA," His roommate quickly added to put their threat in full effect. "And we'll file a noise complaint for disturbing us."

You scoffed at the thought, wanting to slam the door closed and forget about their petty revenge. "Aren't you the same duo that got a noise complaint filed to them last week because of an extremely loud yet unidentifiable thud..." you began before turning on your heels and correcting yourself. "Oh, my apologies. I meant boom, extremely loud yet unidentifiable boom that came from the laundry room. Only for one of the students on the lower floors to go down there and find that one of the washers and dryers had literally malfunctioned and exploded?"

"Listen," One of the boys tried to interject, his ears burning bright red as you kept talking. "That's not... listen, we—"

"Didn't they go on the security cameras to find out who had done the damage? Because a washer and dryer going suddenly haywire on its own is extremely worrisome and dangerous for the students who may have been around during that time. And weren't you two—"

"Classical music is such an amazing genre of music!" The roommate interrupted, yelling over your voice in a panic. There was a pained smile on his face as he hooked an arm around the other boy, punching his arm to follow along as he spoke. "I mean, it has such a clean and light texture to it, simplistic but a great melody nonetheless! God, it gives me nostalgia for a time I wasn't even alive in! Isn't that right, Jaehyun?"

"Oh," the boy spoke, his eyes darting in between his roommate and you. Slowly a smile began to grow on his face to mask his growing embarrassment as he gestured towards the other boy. "Of... of course! Johnny has such nice music taste! So you know when he says a genre is really good it really means something. Seriously love classical music, man. Lulls me right to sleep!"

Needless to say, they choose to not bother you as much as they used to. The strange and loud noises that would echo through the dormitory walls had gotten significantly lower since that day. They didn't stop completely yet but it was enough for you to keep your peace of mind before waking up every day.

Your mornings had gotten relatively calmer after that incident as well. Both of those boys were usually out of the dormitory by the time you were awake to attend classes or work, so you didn't run into them much during the week. You'd have calm enough mornings to where you didn't feel the need to nearly pass out on a car or bus ride to your campus and almost miss your stop. It felt like a dream come true when you would hop out of whatever vehicle you were in and would be right on time before your classes even started.

"Y/N!" A feminine voice screamed, catching you off guard when an arm suddenly slung around your neck. You clutched onto the bag hanging off your shoulder as you nearly tumbled to the ground at the sudden addition of weight, bringing the other girl down with you as you struggled to comprehend what was going on. They got a few stares from the other students who were arriving and leaving the campus but no one said a word to them. Thankfully everyone practiced the art of minding their business. "You'll never guess what I got!"

"Do I want to guess?" You questioned, shoving the girl's arm off of you so you could regain your balance. Once you were stable enough to stand up, you turned around to see who had stumbled into your path. The girl's eyes were wide with innocence and excitement as she stood in front of you, fidgeting in place as she tried to contain herself. Most of the energy she'd originally be exerting into jumping up and down was focused into the beaming and bright smile she couldn't wipe off of her face even if she tried. "Do I have to guess?"

"Yes, you have to," She demanded, holding her hands behind her back to hide whatever got her spirits high. The girl must have ordered some sort of object online again and simply couldn't wait till after your classes to show you. "It's so worth it, I promise! Just... just guess!"

A sigh escaped your mouth as you straighten your posture, reading deep into the girl's expression to try and figure out what it was. "I'm going to guess—"

"Two front row seats to our school's very own band performance!" The girl nearly squealed, shoving two flimsy pieces of paper in your face. You took a few steps back in order to align your sight with the tickets, taking them out of the girl's hands to inspect. Both tickets were for general admission, their names printed on it with the date they were expected to attend the performance. "Aren't you excited? I literally fought tooth and claw to get these before they sold out, and you know these sell out fast!"

"Band? Like the guys who play trumpets and bass drums during school games?" You questioned, glancing up from the tickets to face your friend. The tickets didn't have exactly who was performing written down on it, simply stating that it was a live music event. "Why would you go watch them play? I thought you were more of a... pop genre person?"

The girl rolled her eyes at your response, snatching the tickets from your hands and placing them back into your pockets. "No, not the band. Who goes out of their way to specifically watch our band team play?" She hissed. "I mean like rock bands. You know, the type of people who play the drums and guitars in one big band and perform on stage with a lead singer and everything. That type of band."

"My point with you being a pop genre person still stands," you mumbled in response.

"Yes I do like pop music, I understand that," The girl clarified. "But we're going to see Aurora. Our school's very own rock band! Do you seriously not know who they are? I know you listen to classical and orchestral music and all, but I thought you were at least in the loop with Aurora!"

You scoffed as you began to walk forward, shoving your hands into your pockets and you spoke. "Just because I don't listen to the popular music right now doesn't mean I'm out of the loop! I'll have you know that I am a very big fan of idol groups. I even participated in those farewell events when groups’ oldest members start enlisting in the military."

"Idol groups have absolutely nothing to do with Aurora and you know it," your friend grumbled. "Do you seriously not know who Aurora is? At all? Have I seriously been friends with a hermit crab this whole time?"

"Fine then," you shrugged. "Go ahead, tell me about this Aurora band since you're so obsessed and knowledgeable about this group I've never heard of."

Aurora is a much bigger thing than you had imagined. From your friend's knowledge, it was a group of boys who had gathered around the beginning of the year together, all of them having several different traits and personalities that simply meshed together all too well. They had created the band, Aurora, for fun at first as they were all instrumentalists with different crafts. They had started busking in order to make money as a side job and quickly grew in popularity with the audiences they performed to.

Their university had caught wind of their musical abilities and had asked them to perform during the annual club fairs to help attract more students. After that, they seemed to have skyrocketed in popularity within the college campus. Jung Wooyoung, the group's bassist, Song Mingi, the group's lead guitarist, Choi San, the group's drummer, and Jeong Yunho, the group's lead singer, had become some of the most well-known people on campus.

Everyone seemed to know them and wanted to listen to their music, which is why your friend was so excited to be getting front row tickets to their next performance. You thought it was funny though, Wooyoung was the guitarist boy that lived next door to the girl.

"The past is in the past!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands as the two entered the university's building. The indoors wasn't very crowded, all the students attending were spread throughout the area either taking a break before their classes began or nearly booking it straight up the stairs in fear of being late. "Sure I wanted to murder him with my cello beforehand, but it's okay because we put our differences aside like you said we should have. And it's good that we did because we ended up going to the same university."

"So..." you began, thinking for a few moments before turning towards your friend. "Does this mean he's your favorite member? I mean you've got the background and chemistry for a nice little love story don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely not," she immediately responded. "We may have made up that summer but I have not spoken to him since. Plus my favorite member is their drummer so if anything I'd like to start a love story with him. Do you think I should plan out of my outfit for the music event? What if I actually start a love story with him like in those tv shows my parents used to watch? We catch each other's eyes during the performance and before we're about to leave I get asked backstage to meet him in person!"

You visibly cringed at your friend's fantasizing, putting four feet of space in between the two of you. "Gross. Go to class before you contaminant me with your fantasies."

"Oh shut up." She rolled her eyes, stopping in her tracks so that you were forced to wait for her. "Everyone likes to fantasize about their love life every once and awhile. It's natural to want something grander than reality to happen to you."

"You are the most cliche woman I have ever met," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder to look at the girl. "You just told me you want to make eye contact with him and immediately fall in love just like that! Have a fun time dreaming about that while you stand in a crowd full of people in your general direction."

"You're so mean to me!" She yelled, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and stare at the sudden commotion. "You're just mad that the violinist boy from freshman year refused to play music for you even when you got on your knees! And you were looking for him your entire high school career!"

You sprinted towards the girl at full speed, clamping your hands over her mouth to silence her. She screamed into your hands as you dragged her away from the public eye and muffled her voice. "Heejin, are you out of your mind?" You growled, looking behind you to see if anyone had heard her. "I thought we had both agreed to pretend like that never happened?"

The girl pried your hands away from her mouth and smiled innocently up at you. "We did promise. I just never forgot."

You shoved the girl towards where her lecture hall was located, a frustrated frown growing on your face as a pinkish flush began to creep across your face. "Go to your stupid business math class. Go before I chase you all the way there!" you threatened through gritted teeth. Her friend laughed at the girl's response, skipping like a child to her class for the day.

You really did get rejected that day, it was too ingrained in your brain to forget. The boy had stood on the balcony staring down at the two with a bored and uninterested expression in his eyes, tilting his head like a dog's when you screamed your demands up at him. Honestly, you didn't know exactly what you were expecting. Did you really think that he was just going to pick up his violin and start playing whatever tune he knew just because you asked him to? You didn't even say please!

You had spent a good ten minutes arguing with the boy about how you had been searching for him for years just to make him play at least ten seconds of a song for you. Each time you'd explain your situation to him, he'd immediately give you a dry response of why he kept declining you. He didn't even say it politely! He stared at you straight in the eyes and told you," I don't want to play for you because you aren't worth it."

You swore if you could jump high enough, you would have bounced onto the balcony and strangled him for his rude behavior. It was truly a sight for sore eyes watching an angry and frustrated high school senior scream up at an innocent looking but totally uninterested boy on the balcony. The argument was always almost completely one-sided as well, which made it slightly embarrassing to watch from the sidelines.

You had forced your friend to promise you that she'd either forget the whole incident or pretend like it never happened. Either one was good with you since your friend was known to tell everyone's stories when you weren't paying attention. She had gone this far without saying anything so the urge to talk about it must have been truly bubbling up inside of her. It's been a few months since the incident occurred and the memory is still fresh in your minds.

"God, I'm never gonna live down that stupid incident am I?" you grumbled, practically stomping towards your end destination. "Just when I thought maybe I was finally growing past it, she has to go and bring it back up again. Doesn't she know I'm still healing from that embarrassment? It took a toll on pride and this is how she helps mend the wound? By opening up again?"

You stopped in place when a melody began to waver in the air, following along the cold breeze of the university's air condition. The music notes hopped from breeze to breeze as it traveled through your ears to the next. The sound continuously grabbed your attention as each note was struck no matter how many times you turned to keep walking. It was hitting you like a rock to the head as your brain immediately identified the music maker to a violin.

You slowly turned around to see a few students peering through a crack in some double doors, staring intently on what was on the other side. "They're at it again," one of the older students spoke, holding the door open for his friends to look through. "They're much earlier this time than usual, we'll only catch a little bit of the performance. Do you think something important is happening?"

"You think they're competing for first chair again?" One of the younger students asked, glancing up towards the boy who had spoken beforehand. He shrugged in response to their question, but he seemed to agree for the most part. "Whatever it is, I bet Hong is about to take the first chair again. He's always the first chair. No one can beat that boy when it comes to the violin."

"Kang is always right behind him though, don't forget that," another voice reminded, trying to get a better view of the inside. "Both of them are musical prodigies, and the conductor has always been fond of Kang's playing style. I think he'll get first chair this time."

You couldn't help but let curiosity take over, standing just a few feet away from the group of friends and trying to peer through the small windows of the door. It was rather dark near the entrance to the room, but farther back was lit up by lights that illuminated the wood floor stage where two performers stood. The doors seemed to have led towards an auditorium from the looks of it. You couldn't exactly see their faces from how far away you were, but you could make out a little bit of what was actually going on.

A boy stood in the middle of the stage, the music coming directly from him as he strummed the violin with his bow, grace and elegance oozing off of him. He seemed rather focused on playing his violin precisely, not missing a single note in the song as he allowed the rich and melodic song to ring through their ears. The opened door seemed to amplify his sound even more, ringing within your brain as if it was trying to engraved its sound into her ears. Hearing a violinist play in person was truly much different from hearing it through speakers.

In a chair behind the violinist sat another figure, holding what seemed to be a violin as well in his hands. You assumed that it was the competition who had played their song earlier before you had arrived on campus. His shoulders seemed to tense as the violinist held his final note, a plaintive sound echoing through the auditorium as he held his form to leave an everlasting effect on his listeners.

The students in front of you held their breath as he finished, staring intently at where you assumed the conductor was sitting for his reaction. There was a moment of silence after the note finally fizzled into nothingness, no longer bouncing off of the walls after finding a home in the audience's ears.

"It's Park," the younger student spoke, standing up from where they originally crouched down. "Park is the first chair once again. Honestly, was I expecting a change? No, not really. He's just that talented."

"I was really rooting for Kang this time," the other student spoke, huffing as they crossed their arms in disappointment. "I wonder what he did to not get picked again this time. Usually, Kang performs wonderfully but we weren't early enough to catch his turn."

"Whatever it is," the older student added, shutting the door to the auditorium and shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure Kang will get over it. I mean that's always next time! But I guess I say that every time this happens..."

When the trio had disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but open the door to the auditorium and peek inside. You had been walking past this exact area how many times and you didn't even notice an event like this happening? Your either extremely stupid or completely oblivious, there's no in between.

You pulled on the heavy auditorium doors, peering in the room to take a look for yourself. The room was chilly, much colder than the breezes nature had been giving you so far. It was like you had stepped straight into the freezer, feeling the need to rub your arms for warm to make sure you didn't suddenly die from the cold. "How long has this place been here? I could have sworn this was an administration office or a classroom... literally anything but an auditorium..." you mumbled to mumbled, your eyes drifting towards the stage.

Only one violinist was at the stage, his instrument dangling in his hands as he sat in silence. The other violinist and conductor were nowhere to be seen, abandoning him to be alone with his thoughts. He must have been the one who wasn't picked by their conductor for first chair, reveling in his defeat by his peer. "Is it that serious?" you mumbled, going to close the door before you zoomed to your class, only just a few minutes late.

Though you saw the violinist rise from his seat in the corner of your eye, approaching the edge of the stage to leave the room. Of course, being the generally nice person you were, you pushed the door back open, holding it open for the violinist to pass through. "Hey, are you about to— Woah! Woah, woah, woah, don't do that!" You yelled at him.

The violinist had raised his instrument high above the ground, a bored and uninterested look in his eyes as he debated on whether he was going to let the violin drop from the height it was at and scar it. It definitely wasn't going to shatter and break, but an ugly dent would be achieved through the notion. Your yelling seemed to stop him in his tracks, preventing him from possibly making the worst decision in his life.

"Don't violins cost a lot of money?" You nagged, forgetting about the door you were holding open and marching towards him. "I know you might be frustrated over whatever just happened but is it really worth breaking your instrument? You should be satisfied with the fact that you even got the chance to be chosen as an option for, what was it, first chair? Whatever it is, I think breaking your violin might be a really bad..." you trailed off as you got closer, slowing down your pace as you got closer to the stage

The violinist stared at you through his long blonde bangs, his eyes gleaming in the dingy and dim stage lights. Despite the horrible lighting it seemed to illuminate him as if he was some sort of statue on display, every curve and sharp corner of his face being highlighted just perfectly. His impassive expression refused to let you in on any sort of emotion or thought in his head, locking you out with every chain known to man. His eyes glanced over you, reading you like an open book before he finally spoke. "Why... do you care?"

Your eyes dropped from his face to his violin, taking note of the bored expression and the red tinged violin in his hands. It seemed like it had been used frequently, it's the color worn from age and usage with scratches scattered throughout the instrument's body. "Oh...," you trailed, dropping your hands to your side in defeat.

How long had he been here? Hiding right under your nose in what seemed to be plain sight. How long were you going to go without realizing the violinist from your freshman year was attending the same university as you? "It's you again."

The boy titled his head curiously, a moment of silence expanding over them like a blanket. You felt like you were going to twitch and squirm under his gaze, the eerie silence of the auditorium and his almost blank stare making the atmosphere uncomfortable for you. All you could think about was the one sided argument you two had; how you had embarrassed yourself in front of your whole neighborhood just because you wanted him to play a song for you. The amount of humiliation that was crashing over you like angry waves could have washed you right of the auditorium if it wanted to.

The violinist crouched down on the stage to look down on you, resting his head on his hands as he began to speak. “Do I... know you?”

“Do you know me?” You repeated, disbelief prevalent in your tone of voice. “Did you really just ask that? Of course you know me! Remember from this summer? Just a few months back?”

The boy nodded his head as you spoke, absorbing all the information you were telling him and letting it process in his brain. He closed his eyes as he began to form his final thoughts, leaning back on his heels before opening them again and staring at you. “Ah... I remember now. You were Wooyoung’s fling for a couple weeks... right?”

“What?” You exclaimed, a rosy pink tint spreading across your face as you spoke. You’ve never even spoken to the guitarist boy when he lived near you, nevertheless have a fling with him. The mere thought of doing something so... dangerous like that made your skin crawl. “No... I don’t... listen, are you serious? You don’t remember who am I at all? Not a thing about me seems to trigger some sort of memory in you?”

“Not to be rude,” he responded, lifting himself out of his crouched position and beginning to walk across the stage to the stairs positioned at the side. “But you don’t look like the most memorable type. I mean if I don’t remember you are, would anyone else be able to?”

His blunt honestly was like a knife to the chest, only he was repeatedly sinking the weapon into your already open wound. Had he always been this straightforward with people? Of course he was, that’s why you never got him to play a song for you. You didn’t even know whether or not you liked the fact that he didn’t recognize who you were because he had formatted his words. You’d much rather be remembered for something embarrassing you did than be forgettable as a whole.

Though by the time you had clocked back into reality, a snarky and rude comment ready to hit the bullseye on the back of his head, he was gone. There was no sign of violinist boy anywhere in the room, as if he has quiet literally disappeared into thin air. “I should have just let him smash his violin to pieces,” you rumbled, now not only late to class but also filled with bitter rage that wasn’t even reciprocated.

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myfavoriteskdramas · 4 years ago

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So guys, I've wanted to do this kind of list since a lot of time ago, of the kdramas that from my point of view are underrated, and I think more people who loves kdramas should give them a chance and watch them, so here is the first part:

1. Hogu's love aka Fool's love.

Ho Goo has a twin sister Ho Gyeong. He has tried to pass the civil service examination, but has failed for 7 years. He also has never dated in his life. One day, he meets Do Hee. She was the most popular girl back in his high school days. She is a member of the national swimming team and has a burning desire to win. She also talks like one of the guys. They spend the night together, but the next morning he finds a baby next next to him and Do Hee is gone. After Ho Goo meets Do Hee again, he becomes involved in a complicated romantic relationship and a dangerous friendship.

Link where you can watch it: https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/hogoos-love

2. The tale of nokdu aka Mung bean chronicles (one of my faves).

Jeon Nok Du is a man with extraordinary ambition to experience the big, wide world. With looks, brains, and athletic abilities, he is the epitome of perfection. After being swept up in an incident, he disguises himself as a woman to join a mysterious all-woman community and meets Dong Dong Joo.

Dong Dong Joo is a prickly gisaeng trainee. Along with her fiery personality, she is clumsy, has absolutely no sense of rhythm, and is tone-deaf, which makes all of her peers look after her. However, she is skilled with her hands as she can make anything if given the right tools. Unable to stand injustice, she speaks her mind.

Due to this fact, Jeon Nok Du ends up saving Dong Dong Joo from a dangerous situation. After that, she suddenly becomes Jeon Nok Du’s adopted daughter and he decides to live in the widow village for 1 year.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but you can watch it in this link too https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/mung-bean-chronicles

3. Clean with passion for now.

Jang Sun Gyeol has wealth and good looks but suffers from severe mysophobia. He is obsessed with cleaning and even owns his own cleaning company. However, he meets a carefree and untidy girl named Gil Oh Sol after she enters his company as a new employee.

Oh Sol has worked all sorts of part-time jobs while striving for a full-time job and does not have the luxury to date or be clean. She gave up on being neat after facing the tough reality of the world and is known for always wearing her trademark tracksuit. But she has a bright personality and does not mind getting dirty. With the help of Oh Sol, Sun Gyeol faces his mysophobia and also falls in love with her.

Link where you can watch it: https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/clean-with-passion-for-now

4. Live up to your name aka Deserving of the name.

Heo Im, who is born in a concubine family in Joseon era and has very outstanding medical skill, is frustrated about his career as he fails to climb to higher positions in the government because of his background. By accident, he travels through time to modern Seoul 400 years later and meets modern doctor Yeon Gyung. Thinking that Heo Im is weird, she hopes to get rid of Heo Im but instead, they travel back to Joseon together again.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on netflix, but you can watch it too in this link https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/deserving-of-the-name

5. Live On (Just finished one or two weeks ago) if you want to watch a short kdrama, this one it only has 8 episodes.

Live On” is set to be a romance story that follows the lives of Baek Ho Rang (Jung Da Bin), who is at the top of food chain at her high school where being trendy and popular brings higher social status, and Go Eun Taek (Minhyun), a perfectionist who is the head of the broadcasting club. Baek Ho Rang joins the broadcasting club in order get help from Go Eun Taek in uncovering the identity of a mysterious figure who is trying to bring to light parts of her past she wants to keep hidden.Baek Ho Rang immediately shot up to social media star status because of her beautiful looks and is one of the most popular girls at Seo Hyun High School. Despite being at the top of the social pyramid, she only has one true friend as she believes she is the center of the universe and looks down on others. Meanwhile, Go Eun Taek is in charge of the school’s broadcasting club and is someone who is sensitive, detail oriented, can sometimes be irritable, and plans everything out perfectly. Though he is strict and inflexible when it comes to his leadership, he never shies away from any task that is given to him and is loved by his fellow students.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but also you can watch it in this link

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/live-on-2020

6. Dinner Mate.

This drama is about a young woman going through a rough breakup with a longtime boyfriend she’s still in love with, and a young man who’s a serial dater and kind of tired of relationships. They both like to eat out but dislike having to go to nice restaurants alone, and they happen to meet while waiting to be seated at a restaurant, each of them alone. The hostess mistakes them for a couple and offers them a couple special, which prompts them to sit together and end up having dinner together. After their first unexpected meeting, they meet and have dinner together weekly. That’s how they strike up an unusual friendship where they get together just to eat out, and over multiple dinners, they open up to each other about their relationship troubles and grow closer.

Link where you can watch it:

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/dinner-mate

7. Oh my venus.

This is a drama about two Childhood friends meet again in their adulthood and find themselves making a bet on a “diet challenge”. The story focuses on their journey of searching for love and health.

Kang Joo Eun meets Kim Yeong Ho, who agrees to be her personal trainer to help her get healthier. As they work on her physical transformation, they both discover they have feelings for each other. As they grow closer, they heal each other's emotional wounds and fall in love.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but here's the link too

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/oh-my-venus

8. Cheat on me if you can ( Is still on emission, there's only two episodes left).

For her work, best-selling crime author Yeo Joo researches how to make a murder look like an accidental death. Next to her is her younger husband, Woo Sung, who is a family man and works as a divorce lawyer. Woo Sung still thinks he's a sexy, attractive partner, and lives on with his wonderful marriage life. However, lately, Yeo Joo, who would rather be a widow than a divorcee, starts finding some of his behavior suspicious. Could he be cheating on her? Could Woo Sung possibly be enjoying a thrilling affair behind her back? Yeo Joo tells it straight: If he cheats, he will die.

Link where you can watch it:

Is on Viki but also here's the link https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/if-you-cheat-you-die

9. The beauty inside (one of my faves).

Han Se Kye is a top actress, also known as a troublemaker, with many rumors around her. To others, her life appears as a mystery, when in fact she is faced with a strange occurrence where she must change into a different body and new identity for one week a month. She encounters Seo Do Jae, a brilliant man who is an executive at an airline company. He seems to have it all: a perfect appearance, knowledge, and a good job; but he has a secret too. He suffers from Prosopagnosia, the inability to recognize faces. However, he manages to hide this from the world, every day he makes an effort to remember people by their personalities.

Seo Do Jae's life begins to change when he meets Han Se Kye. She is the only person whose face he can recognize. But with Han Se Kye's constant disappearance and change how long can she keep her secret?.

Link where you can watch it:

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/the-beauty-inside-korean-drama

10. Royal secret inspector aka Secret royal agent (is on emission now, there's a few episodes left).

Set towards the end of the Joseon era, Sung Yi-Gyeom placed first in the state examination and he now works at the Hongmungwan (administrative and research department). He doesn't have a goal or ambition for his life. One day, Sung Yi-Gyeom is caught gambling. As punishment, he is assigned to work as a secret royal inspector. His job is to eradicate illegal acts and corruption by public officers. He carries out his new job with the help of Hong Da-In and Park Chun-Sam. Hong Da-In is a female inspector and solves cases with Sung Yi-Gyeom. Park Chun-Sam is Sung Yi-Gyeom’s servant. Park Chun-Sam is talkative, affectionate, and tearful.

Meanwhile, Sung Yi-Beom is Sung Yi-Gyeom’s younger stepbrother. His father is a nobleman, but his mother is a slave. Due to his mother's low social status, his father does not accept him as his real son and he is barred from having certain opportunities. He opposes his older stepbrother Sung Yi-Gyeom.

Link where you can watch it:

https://dramacool.so/drama-detail/new-secret-royal-inspector

#myfavoriteskdramas #kdrama #kdramadaily #kdramaedit #my edit #**mine #kdramas #jtbc live on #oh my venus kbs #dinner mate mbc #live up to your name tvn #the tale of nokdu kbs #hogu's love tvn #cheat on me if you can kbs #clean with passion for now jtbc #royal secret agent kbs #the beauty inside jtbc #kdramas underrated part 1

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

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8, 12, and 13 for the Holiday/Christmas prompts please (I don’t remember what it was called lol) 🤍

I had to search for it too, lol. I’ll be updating these in reblogs!

“Who threw that?!”

The tone carried across the snowy campus to let those nearby, in their close-knit circles, that the owner if it was annoying. No, pissed.

The snow fell from Peggy’s coat as she shook what snow off of her backside that she could. Her perfect vision was sharp enough in the classroom to pick out the few students who still stupidly dare to cheat on her exams and out here on the campus, she could make out a few familiar faces within her class.

And one who taught right next-door to her office.

He stood a foot shorter than her with baby blue eyes, downy soft blonde hair, and freckles dashed across his straight nose. The very nose that scrunched as he snorted, eyes wrinkling in the corner. He dropped the snowball from his hand, shaking the excess snow off of his gloves. A few flecks of snow landed on his hair, nearly blending in with the blonde locks.

She hated how adorable their new art teacher was. Not only did she hate how adorable he was, but she also hated how much the students loved him. She hated how good looking he was, she personally, and selfishly hated how she was attracted to him.

During his time on campus so far, he fell into the easy role of being the laidback teacher who let his students get away with a lot of things. Things that would not fly in her classroom. Chatting during exam time? That wouldn’t fly, some people needed silence to concentrate, but she’d heard him saying it was fine if they talked, long as it wasn’t loud. He let them choose the soundtrack for their days, often giving the students a choice between two albums that related to his studies. He was often late to class himself, often arriving with nothing but a cup of coffee and a smirk on those full, pink lips. Later, she’d learn he was often a little late because of frequent asthma attacks given he took the bus to work and some people didn’t seem to understand that smoking on the bus was illegal.

What was the most annoying aspect of Mister Rogers was how he seemed to live up to his surname and be so helpful and kind. They were first introduced by Headmaster Coulson who seemed all too gleeful to introduce a history teacher to an art teacher, wearing a smirk on his lips as he quickly walked around the corner. Steve had offered to walk her to her office, then the car, claiming he was worried about her falling because she lacked proper snowshoes and it was starting to ice outside. She had told him, no, but he apparently didn’t take no for an answer and walked her anyway.

That had only been the start of their little acquaintance. She would watch him in between classrooms doing favors that were well out of a professor’s means for students, like researching and writing letters for students to get pets or calling home for them to talk to a difficult parent [okay, that one hit close to home for her.] She’d seen him here late at night and early in the morning, helping the janitors clean up after parties or laying out salt and putting rugs down.

Yet, their most recent encounter had been this morning, the one rare time that neither of them had class, and despite that Steve’s office was halfway across campus, he was knocking on her door. She almost didn’t look up from her lesson plan, the well-practiced sentence of office hours didn't start for another half hour when she could smell the coffee. He was standing in front of her, wearing a jacket that made him look like an over puffed marshmallow. His earmuffs were covering his ears, making him look adorable. His cheeks flushed from the cold outside and he looked almost winded as if he’d been hurrying.

“Mister Rogers,” she breathed, waving him inside. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? Why would something be wrong?” He spoke too loudly and she cringed, pointing to her ears. He flushed as he pulled the earmuffs down, setting a cup of coffee on her desk. “Sorry, I forgot about those. Anyway, no, I wanted to beat your normal crowd of students and bring you some coffee. I sometimes hear what those students ask of you and...well, I thought it...be good…”

He seemed to stumble over his own words, flushing a brighter shade of pink as he caught himself. Clearing his throat, Steve shook his head and shoved his hands into his pocket. Oh, he was adorable.

“That’s...so kind of you.” And he seemed to know his order too after a small sip, she found she was impressed. “Thank you, Steve.”

He shrugged and cleared his throat. “I...yeah. I gotta…” He jerked his thumb behind him, to an empty hall, where she knew maybe three classes were being taught right now. The freak snowstorm had caused many students and teachers to miss class.

“Of course. Thank you again, Steve. You’re very sweet.”

She enjoyed watching him stumble and walk away, locking himself in his neighboring classroom. He must’ve called class off because of the storm too, meaning he came to their building just for her?

Bless that man.

Right now, she couldn’t think of blessing him, as the cold snow dripped into her neck, making her shudder. She glared at Steve who still somehow managed to look just as adorable as he did this morning with his pinking nose from the cold. She was English, she didn’t do well in the cold. The heat was fine but this Brooklyn cold went right through her.

A few of their shared students snickered around them, only stopping when she glared at them. They quickly hurried off, just a few stragglers left around them.

“Steve?” Peggy asked, lips pursed and brow raised. “Did you throw that snowball at me? Do not lie to me.”

“Or what? You’d give me detention?” There was that sassy fella she’d often hear in his lections. He must’ve found that sass again. She hated how cute he looked as he snickered. “No, it must’ve been from the trees.”

Peggy brow rose, glancing up and around them with her hand waving above. “Funny. There doesn’t seem to be any trees around us right now.” When his mouth opened, she raised a finger to silence him. “To answer your earlier question, no, I won’t give you detention. I’ll remind you as to why you shouldn’t start a battle you can’t win.”

Just as his mouth opened to sass or counter her, Peggy threw a quick handful of loosely packed snow in his direction, striking him right in the mouth. There was some satisfaction in watching him sputter and spitting the snow out.

His eyes narrowed at her as he swiped the snow off of his face, already reaching to scrape some snow off of the bench beside him. “Oh, it’s on.”

That’s how Peggy found herself engaging with one of the few professors that she tolerated on campus, in an all-out snowball fight. She used the brick wall beside her to gather the snow off of the top, lobbing a lopsided snowball in Steve’s direction. It struck him square in the chest and he shuddered but his more perfectly made snowball struck her hard and clear in the shoulder.

Turns out, that bad eyesight she heard him muttering about didn’t seem to affect him when it came to throwing snowballs at her. His aim was pretty good, just as good as his right armed throw. His snowballs were more solid than hers and didn’t seem to just disintegrate in the air as hers did.

She threw one hard at his head again, managing to hit it just right to knock the earmuffs off and cause the snow to scatter in his hair. He laughed, throwing his head back and chest out as he laughed, shaking the snow out of his hair. He neglected to pick up the earmuffs in favor of lobbing one at her chest.

This one was solid, sending her a step back. Her scarf caught on the shoulder-high hedge that lined their walkway. Peggy abandoned it to the hedge in favor of throwing her next ball and missing Steve by a few inches.

Steve in turn, childishly stuck his tongue out at her, tossing his next ball and losing his glove with it.

Her next one struck him in the shoulder, getting snow under his jacket. He did a cute little dance, slipping and sliding to get the snow out of his coat.

“Do you see how it feels now?” She asked, her breath floating in the air around them. She felt a little breathless but Steve looked breathless with his flushed face. “Cold isn’t it?”

“Mam, I was born and raised in Brooklyn, I’ve known no warmth in my life.”

She snorted at that one and he stomped his foot, both to get the remaining snow out of his coat and to dismiss her disbelief snorting.

“It’s true!” he insisted, waving his hand at her.

“Has anyone told you that you’re dramatic?” She mused, rolling his eyes when he lopped a loosely packed ball in her direction and it fell short between them. “And quite rash.”

“Plenty of people. You wanna start a club about it?” He was pouting and she was caught up with the thought of how cute those pouting lips were.

“Only if you’re the president of it. I’ll bring it up to Coulson during our next meeting.”

This time, she threw the next ball to punctuate the end of the sentence. Her glove came with it too, both hitting him in the chest.

They both lost their set of gloves in separate balls, her scarf still fluttered in the branch beside her, his dark blue earmuffs stuck out in the snow in contrast to the white color, her left boot went flying next when it got caught in the root of the hedge, and his scarf came off when he caught himself on the end of the bench.

They were both winded, chest aching from the cold, but neither wanted to admit defeat. Especially Peggy who hated to lose.

Steve’s next ball came flying at her and a quick ducking motion caused it to strike the statue behind her. They both watched as the cheap statue on its weak frame started to tip over before crashing into the frozen landscape behind it.

Sharing a look with her fellow professor, Peggy made quick work of grabbing their soaked winter gear, finally snatching his hand and the both of them booking it back towards her office.

With their gear off and sitting next to a heater, Steve was able to laugh. “Do you think anyone saw us?”

“We were fighting in front of the main building, Steven, I don’t see how not.” She pursed her lips in thought before shrugging. “Though I know you mean the statue, I don’t think we’re in any trouble. Coulson has mentioned how he wants that thing done, we’re doing him a favor.”

“I think we deserve a raise,” the blonde snickered, rubbing the melting snow from his hair. “We call it a draw?”

Her lips remained pursed, regarding him with a look as they sat side-by-side on the couch, feet tucked under her to try to harbor body warmth.

“Not a draw then,” he mused, a little grin on his lips. “Though, you don’t know how to make a snowball, do you?”

Peggy gapped before a beat of laughter escaped her. “Excuse you, I grew up in snow too, Steven.” She paused, her cheeks tinting a soft pink from nothing to do with the cold. “They were terrible, weren’t they?”

“Really bad,” he agreed, looking almost nervous as he turned to face her. “I can teach you how to make a proper one if you’d like.”

Without missing a beat. “Only if we get coffee first, I’m afraid I can’t feel my fingers.”

Steve’s face split open into a grin that should be illegal with how adorable he looked. “Deal.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #@peggycarter-steverogers #Ask Prompt #Holiday Prompts #CaptainAmericaPeggyCarterismysexuality fic ideas

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fermented-writers-block · 4 years ago

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Boiling Isles Civil War Thoughts and Opposing Extremes

Throwing this out there as a last minute theory/idea list before the season finale, but as I’ve touched upon before in my Coven Artifacts post, the basic idea is that I suspect that over the course of the show, we could very well end up with a kind of civil war between two main factions on the Boiling Isles: specifically, between the Emperor’s Coven and a newly formed Bad Girl Coven:

From what others like @sepublic and @anistarrose have noted, the show seems to be heavily leaning into the theme of conformism vs individualism, and with this plus the sinister undertones of Belos’ reign and the likelihood of there being plenty of people across the BIs - outside of covenless witches and rebels like Eda - who are dissatisfied with Belos’ rule, it has always felt to me that Eda’s advice to Lus to “teach them some of that Bad Girl Coven magic” at the end of Something Ventured, Something Framed could very well turn out to be more prophetic than either of them would have ever thought.

With that said, though the show so far has Eda - a large symbol of individualism in her actions and mindset - as a main character, I don’t believe that it will go the route of simply going “conforming completely bad, individuality completely good” as some sort of black and white divide, as this is the kind of complex and complicated topic that has an equally complex and complicated answer to figure out.

Not only that, but to boil it down to something as simple as that could very well leave out the chance for some particularly thought-provoking episode concepts and interesting character arcs/interactions across the show, particularly as a way to potentially push the main cast and supporting characters towards their opposite extreme.

After all, when you have characters at two opposing extremes, it can be particularly interesting character development to have them undergo challenges that force them towards the other’s side, that help them see the flaws in their own extreme and potentially even lead to striking a kind of compromise between the two.

That, and it’d make for some great parallels, foils, and contrasts across opposing groups like outlined down below:

For me, the Emperor’s Coven and the Bad Girls Coven could end up standing as complete foils to each other, enforcing laws on magic and fitting in as an official Coven compared to encouraging freedom in magic choice and personality as a “coven” instead of anything actually binding.

Just imagine the parallels between two pupils in magic, two powerful witches as their teachers, and two covens with access to all magic and said teachers at the helm. Both mentors and students are on different sides of conformity and individuality, and as the series goes on, both of their ideals and assumptions about the world they’re in get challenged in ways they never could have expected.

Obviously for Amity on the Emperor’s Coven side, there would be the obvious challenge of being torn between helping Luz break down the rules of her society and aiding her mentor maintain the world she is actually familiar with. But with Lilith on the other hand, she might have to face the possibility that the kind of ideology she’s bought into all these years is wrong - or at least, begin to realize some of the potential major flaws with it.

I mean, Lilith seems to me like the kind of character who doesn’t particularly actively concern herself with how Belos’ system treats the people under it unless it affects her more directly, and given that it sounds that Belos’ plans have changed in regards to Eda and how Luz will get Eda’s staff despite him commanding for it to be broken, we will likely see the start of these cracks in her beliefs and faith in the emperor this coming episode.

Perhaps she might even try to go searching for other points of view in some kind of attempt to reassure herself that what she thinks is correct and that they are wrong, only to find herself actually agreeing with these perspectives and beginning to slip away from Belos’ grasp.

As for the side of the Bad Girls Coven, Luz could face the challenge of having to handle the full transition from an outcast on Earth to an unusual student at Hexside to a full blown revolutionary leader, unintentionally finding herself the “chosen one” of so many people to follow and maybe even emulate.

Heck, it’s one thing to imagine oneself as being an inherently special part of some destined prophecy, and it’s another to inadvertently wind up kicking off a societal upheaval from a likely mix of having befriended fellow outcasts that will help you like you did for them, accidentally inspiring people to step back and question the way magic works with your discoveries, and becoming the teacher of an unprecedented form of magic that ANYONE could use, even non-witches.

And for Eda, well, I believe we’ve already seen the start of this shift between extremes in her decision to let Luz have some structure in her education and go to Hexside. Furthermore, with the Bad Girls Coven, while Eda herself might lean towards rebelling against authority and being yourself, she could very well end up facing a similar problem as Lilith with their respective covens.

On the EC’s side, Lilith could have the positive and negative sides of extreme conformity shine through her coven members being able to mobilize and coordinate quickly with little to no dissent against the BGC, but also struggling to adapt on the fly to unforeseen changes and opposing ideas/ways of thinking. They could be well organized and ready to fall into line at any moment on her behalf, but lack the imagination and perspective to truly answer Lilith’s inquiries or come up with substantial suggestions of their own.

On the BGC’s side, Eda could deal with the likelihood of her ‘coven’ being open to anyone and everyone on Luz’s behalf, ranging from other covenless witches who want to support the cause to potentially even her past enemies and rivals. I mean, for as much as it may be a case of “Enemy Mine” with said enemies, I wouldn’t be surprised if Luz initially kickstarted the coven by publicly declaring that everyone deserves the chance to be free to do whatever magic they want and that her kind of magic is available to everyone.

With that, both Eda and Luz might have to deal with the ramifications of such in the form of people seeking to take advantage of her teachings for personal gain, those with conflicting personalities or bad history being grouped together and potentially causing trouble, having to collaborate with former enemies, and figuring out how to apply at least some structure to the BGC.

After all, while a group with too little structure can be suitably chaotic enough to possibly throw off the likes of the EC, it can also be disjointed and unable to really work together or agree on any plan.

I mean, it would put Luz and Eda in the interesting and precarious position of having to tell all these people who came to them to be freed from Belos’ rule that they have to establish some ground rules of their own, and with that would come the issue of just how much is too much and how much is too little.

Either way, while I can’t quite figure out anything about how Kikimora, Hooty, Belos, or King and the others could experience a similar kind of challenge at the moment, these are a couple of my thoughts on where such a civil war could lead and change these other four characters.

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house analysis #the owl house theory #owl house analysis #owl house theory #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #amity blight #lilith clawthorne #emperor belos #bad girl coven #emperor's coven #BOILING ISLES CIVIL WAR

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houseisekai · 4 years ago

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House Isekai: Shadowbringers Act 2, Part 1 - Withering Flower

House Isekai Shadowbringers AU Masterlist Here

—

“I don’t know if anyone will be seeing this message, whether that be myself or anyone else who comes into this godforsaken tower but...My name is Byleth Eisner. Son of Jeralt Eisner.”

“And my name is Sothis. Goddess of Fodlan...evidently.”

“We’re leaving this here in some hopes that this cycle can be broken, and to fix this mistake before it could ever happen...Our memories will be wiped after this, so we want to say everything we can before...before we forget.”

“And if anyone else besides our future selves sees this message, please give them to Byleth at Garreg Mach Monastery.”

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way...We need to start at the beginning.”

----

[’Neath Dark Waters - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Byleth looked at the reflection of himself in the tower. It was a floating crystal and after taking a deep breath, began speaking into it.

======

“Our journey-

No.

Your journey.

It is your journey that we are banking our hopes in.

It is your journey that will give you a different experience, and prevent you from committing the worst atrocity this world has ever seen.

And so, it falls to me to tell you how you got here...

Your journey began when you and Sothis woke up from a dream that had been reoccurring. A dream of a battle at Zanado.

You two did not have any memory of partaking in the fight, yet it was clear as day, despite the fact it had happened centuries ago.

Right as Jeralt was ordering you and the other mercs to prepare for another grueling march, is when your fate would change forever.

You, Sothis, and Jeralt saved three students named Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri.

They were part of Garreg Mach Monastery, and when the Knights of said monastery came to retrieve them, they convinced Jeralt to take up his former role of Captain.

Something he had never told you until then.

On the way, you exchanged some colorful conversations with them and tried to convince you to join their side.

All of them were next in line to their respective lands, the Adrestian Empire, Leicester Alliance, and Kingdom of Faerghus.

After being informed that you would become a professor, you were to choose your class to teach for that year.

Either out of instinct, or a wild guess, you went with the Blue Lions, led by Dimitri.

Throughout the course of the year, you fought and bled with your students as you accompanied them to various locations across Fodlan, doing the tasks of the Church.

According to Sothis and many others, you did not display any emotions whatsoever. Yet, as the year went on, your wall broke little by little.

And by the end of the year with them, your bond with your students was unbreakable.

...But tragedy would soon strike.

No matter how much time has passed, it is a memory that will never leave you. Everything else will be a blur, but this?

It will be the catalyst to your journey.

Your father was killed saving the students from a Demonic Beast attack in Garreg Mach.

Killed by an Agarthan named Kronya.

In the following month, you march for their known location, eager for revenge. With your class right behind you, refusing to let you fight this alone.

Getting caught in a trap set by Solon, you and Sothis had no choice but to fuse together in order to escape.

Although you would not hear her for a very long time, she would never leave your side.

After successfully getting revenge and fusing with your friend, it is then everyone begins to show their true colors.

You journey to the Tomb of the Goddess and sit upon the very throne Sothis once did by orders of Rhea.

When you sat down, nothing happened, confusing everyone in the room.

But it is here when the Flame Emperor ambushes you and your class, and begin to fight Imperial forces.

And it is here where the Flame Emperor’s identity is revealed, alongside Dimitri’s true self.

Upon seeing that Edelgard was the Flame Emperor, he snapped and became unhinged.

Something that was consistent as the month passed on to your next confrontation, when the Adrestian Empire invaded and the battle’s outcome was a stalemate, both sides losing far too many men to occupy the Monastery.

However, during that battle, you fell into the canyon, where you went missing for five years.

It was only thanks to the intervention of Sothis that you were alive when you awoke, though she sent you five years into the future.

And with another year, you singlehandedly turned the war around against the Empire.

And became the saving grace to Dimitri’s grief-fueled madness.

After months of slowly pushing back the relentless tide of Imperial forces, you brought the war to a final showdown at Enbarr.

And it was then that Edelgard had finally met her match, and was killed by Dimitri.

A few days later, you and Dimitri swore to help repair Fodlan and its wartorn lands together.

Although, there was some part of you that wished to fix this outcome. To see if you could do anything different in order to prevent the war from happening.

Sothis had granted you a power known as Divine Pulse, which allowed you to turn back time.

Although it could only be used as a way to restart at most a day back, you called upon her power, and sent yourself back to where it all began.

The day you met Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude.

Instead of choosing the Blue Lions, you taught the Black Eagles.

Although you had knowledge of prior events, such as Jeralt’s death, nothing you said could stop it from happening.

When the fated day arrived at the Tomb, you sided with Edelgard.

To find out why she did what she did in the previous timeline.

To your surprise, you found a much softer side to the brutal dictator.

She held compassion and love for her fellow man.

And unending loyalty to you.

The same could not be said for Rhea, who had shown her colors as a ruthless and hellbent on getting her lost mother back, Sothis.

After defeating Claude and Dimitri, you and Edelgard killed Rhea in a burning city.

When that battle was over, you began to question who was right or wrong.

Who held the moral high ground in this conflict?

Calling upon Sothis again, you went back in time once more and sided with the Church to defeat Edelgard.

What had driven Rhea to similar madness like Dimitri?

You were confident about the answer until you finally found the real side to Rhea. A side she dared not show anyone but family.

Rhea harbored similar feelings, though it came after a near fatal conflict between you and Church forces.

She was nothing more than a daughter wishing to see her mother again.

Feelings you could sympathize with.

Rhea was alive but broken, Dimitri and Edelgard were dead, and Claude was missing.

This was not the ideal outcome you had wished for either.

That meant going back to the beginning.

Although this next attempt would only be your fourth time going back, you and Sothis had lost track of how many years had come and gone since you first met the students.

Going back this time and choosing the Golden Deer class, something new happened.

You met the Ashen Wolves, the secret Fourth House of Garreg Mach.

You discovered what happened to your mother, Sitri, and what Rhea was doing to get her mother back at any cost.

After saving the class, they went their separate ways and the year went on as normal, powerless to stop the events that had already been set in motion.

The journey with Claude did not have the outcome you desired either, although at the very least you now knew what he was doing the entire time in all the previous timelines.

You had put an end to the Agarthan agenda together and worked together to unite Fodlan under the banner of the Leicester Alliance, with Edelgard and Dimitri dead, with Rhea broken.

This had happened again.

And again.

Nothing you were doing could stop their deaths.

It was beginning to drive you mad.

So mad, you went back one final time.

[The Decision - Xenoblade Chronicles 2 OST]

Choosing the Black Eagles once more, you did everything you could to change anything. Even the smallest thing.

But by the time Jeralt’s death had occurred for the fifth time, you had chosen the final option.

You would unite all four against you, by becoming something far worse than the Empire and Church.

You would destroy this cruel world by forming the Knights of Nemesis.

Recruiting the help of Alois, Leonie, and Shamir, and your original mercenary group, you escaped the Battle of Garreg Mach Monastery and pursued your own agenda.

Little by little, you destroyed the bases of Those Who Slither and stole their technology.

Finally avenging Jeralt by killing Thales, you had become the most dangerous group in Fodlan.

And it was there, where you made your biggest mistake.

Creating the Javelin of Liberation.

Many years would pass in your war against Edelgard and Rhea as your Knights built the Javelin, and you had forced the entire war to a standstill.

But due to your brutal tactics and unforgiving nature, forged by four timelines worth of loss and death, you would alienate your very own allies.

Leonie was the first one to act by revealing your plans to the Leicester Alliance, calling a summit to Derdriu.

And when you and your escort reached Gronder Field on the way to the Monastery...

---

(Edelgard) “Years ago we fought here as classmates…”

(Dimitri) “And now, we stand together against someone who was once a friend.”

(Claude) “As far as big class reunions go, this one’s got to be the worst one in history…”

(Rhea) “There is to be no mercy for these heretics. Do I make myself clear?”

(Catherine) “Crystal.”

(Seteth) “Loud and clear.”

---

After a bloody battle with heavy casualties on both sides, you retreated back to the Monastery, with all three nations hot on your heels.

Rhea was killed by having the Javelin fired prematurely, and as a result, you had lost your connection to Sothis...For a time.

The final battle approached and you stood near the top, awaiting your fate.

If you won, then everything would be blasted into oblivion. Your struggle would finally end.

And if you didn’t, well then your goal was mostly accomplished. To have everyone alive and united.

But things didn’t go as planned either way...

---

(Claude) “Think about this! Do you think blowing us all to hell is going to solve every problem that we have?!”

(Byleth) “Do you not think I haven’t thought of this? I don’t know the answer, nor will I ever. But, we’ll just have to have faith in the next generation once it fires.”

(Dimitri) “Are you hearing yourself right now?! What about the hundreds of innocents you’ve put down to get here?! And the millions you’re about to kill today!”

(Byleth) “It’s for the greater good.”

(Claude) “The greater good?! What do you think Jeralt would have to say about this greater good?! The people and students you swore to protect?!”

(Byleth) “You will not lecture to me of what he would have wanted! Us as a species are a blight! We will never have the will to move forward and change things for the better!-”

(Edelgard) “PROFESSOR!”

Everyone turned to Edelgard, who was stepping closer to Byleth.

(Edelgard) “Professor I’m…I’m so sorry for what I have done.”

(Byleth) “…!”

(Edelgard) “I…I understand where you’re coming from. I do. All my family is dead, and I wanted to destroy everything the Church stood for because of the crests, Rhea, everything…But…

I never wanted this war to happen. I never wanted any of us to fight each other! I never wanted to fight you, my dear professor! 5 years ago, you showed me just how beautiful and how tragic this world is!

I’m sorry for all the pain I must have caused you back then. Please, stop this madness and…and we can find a way together to make the world a better place!”

(Byleth) “Edelgard…”

(Edelgard) “Yes?”

(Byleth) “…Nothing would make me happier than to accept your hand, and leave this all behind but…I can never be forgiven for what I’ve done to everyone…To you.”

(Edelgard) “…I understand.”

She unsheathed her axe, Dimitri and Claude moving to her side.

The battle was one sided since you no longer could properly wield the Sword of the Creator.

However, you did not care.

The battle was decided when the Javelin of Liberation finally deployed.

(Edelgard) “Professor…It’s over.”

Byleth looked up to the spell that was displaying the status of the Javelin of Liberation, and smiled.

(Byleth) “You’re right…it is.”

The three looked up to the spell, and saw the meter was full.

(Dimitri) “SHIT!-”

...

(Leonie) “D-Don’t worry about us, the core…!”

They all looked to the core which was pulsating faster and faster.

(Shamir) “Shit, it’s about to activate!”

(Alois) “Y-you-agh! N-Need to overload it with magic! HURRY!”

Dorothea, Linhardt, Lysithea, and Annette all started to cast their strongest spells and aimed it at the core.

(Shamir) “NOW!”

Right as they aimed their hands at the core, it was too late. It was flashing a bright white that enveloped the entire room.

And in the distance, the Javelin fired into the air, and made contact with the ground.

Dimitri, Edelgard, Claude, and you were sent flying backwards.

You had expected nothing would be alive after that hit, but you were wrong.

You looked back to the world, and it was still very much alive.

Although, the skies had darkened to a sickening white and grey hue, the temperature dropping fast.

It would not be long before the world turned into a frozen hellscape.

And much to your horror, the Javelin had not killed everyone in one fell swoop.

You just ensured everyone would die a slow and painful death.

You had overestimated what the technology of the Agarthans were capable of. Not even they could create a world ending device, and your carelessness and overconfidence costed you the world, and those you called friends...

When you turned around, Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude were killed from the fall, while the forces under your command were engaged in a civil war.

Several hours later, you did not see any of your former students or faculty member which meant one thing: they were killed too.

It was just you and the men under your command.

Not having the option to turn back time, you and the Knights of Nemesis did everything they could to find any device to turn back time with the technology you had.

The Knights carried the technology back to the area with the most magical readings: Zanado.

And there, you all had created the tower, half out of the materials you had brought, and the materials there. It was crude, but it would get the job done.

And...It was here you could finally reunite with an old friend. And gave a final message to yourself.

I don’t know when or how you’ll see this message but...Find us. Before it’s too late. Don’t do what I did. And forge yourself a path that can save everyone, truly.”

======

[’Neath Dark Waters - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Byleth put the crystal down and took a deep breath.

This would be the last thing he would record before the timeline was reset yet again.

But this time, he had no idea what was going to happen. Sothis was here, yes, but her power had greatly diminished by now.

She was only visible thanks to the Zanado Tower.

He looked outside an opening out the tower, and stared at the graves he had made for the Knights of Nemesis.

They stayed with him until the end, whether out of pure loyalty, or wanting to reset what they had done.

Byleth would never know the answer.

(Byleth) “...WIth the tower restoring your power, you should be able to reset time once more with your Divine Pulse.”

(Sothis) “Hm...”

Sothis raised her hand and began drawing energy as Byleth sat down.

(Byleth) “...Thank you. I don’t expect forgiveness for my actions-”

(Sothis) “Don’t apologize to me. I said I’d be with you no matter what. And this is no exception. Apologize to those we have lost.”

(Byleth) “...”

(Sothis) “Do you think it was a good idea leaving that message? Perhaps this is something your...next self needs to know.”

(Byleth) “It isn’t but he will have to. Otherwise we’re doomed to repeat these exact mistakes. And maybe they won’t be so lucky to get the technology we have right now.”

(Sothis) “I suppose that’s true.”

They both remained in silence before Sothis finally lowered her hand and turned to Byleth.

(Sothis) “Child. My powers in combination with Agarthan, Goddess, and manmade magic...This could be a catastrophic reset.”

(Byleth) “I know-”

(Sothis) “There is no telling the amount of damage we can cause.”

(Byleth) “I know!”-

(Sothis) “And we could possibly tear apart reality itsel-”

(Byleth) “I KNOW!...I know, Sothis...”

Byleth’s back slid down the wall and his head looked up at the ceiling.

(Byleth) “I know. But I have to try something...Hah, even though I had the hindsight of how Dimitri and Rhea acted, I ended up becoming exactly like them...”

Sothis floated over to Byleth and attempted to hold his hand.

To both of their surprise, they actually managed to feel something, and it was then Sothis held his hand tightly and took a deep breath.

(Sothis) “...Goodbye, Byleth. And thank you, for everything.”

(Byleth) “...See you around, Sothis.”

Byleth closed his eyes as Sothis invoked the Zanado Tower.

...

Byleth slowly opened his eyes and saw Jeralt standing over him.

Sothis yawned obnoxiously, and Byleth tried to do his best to ignore her and not weird his father out.

(Jeralt) “Were you having that dream again?”

(Byleth) “Yeah...something about a war.”

(Jeralt) “Massive armies clashing on a vast field, right? There hasn’t been a battle like that in over three centuries. In any case, just put that out of your mind for right now-”

As Jeralt began to explain how dangerous it was to let your mind wander, Sothis as if on cue yawned even louder as she floated over to Byleth.

(Sothis) “Ugh, we’re up already?”

(Byleth) Not now, Sothis.

(Sothis) “Why? What’s he explaining to you that you don’t already know?”

Even though Byleth couldn’t express much, he was certainly feeling annoyed.

SLAM!

(Mercenary) “Jeralt! Sir! Sorry to barge in but your presence is needed!”

(Jeralt) “What’s happened?”

Outside...

(Dimitri) “Please, forgive our intrusion! We would not bother you were our situation not dire!”

(Jeralt) “What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?-”

FWOOM!

A black and purple portal appeared behind them, spitting out four screaming people as they landed with a violent thud.

(Sothis) “Woah.”

(Jeralt) “Oh, what now?!”

(Byleth) “Hm?”

(Boy in green cloak) “Ack, get the hell off me!”

(Girl with blue hair) “S-SHUT UP! YOU LANDED ON ME!”

(Girl in red) “I...hurk! Might be sick from that!”

(Girl in yellow) “P-People!”

(Edelgard) “What in the?”

(Claude) “Today just keeps getting interesting, doesn’t it?”

The four of them quickly got up in a panicked manner.

(Boy in green) “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?!”

(Girl with blue hair) “Hey, don’t piss them off, you idiot!”

(Girl in yellow) “H-Hello there! We are adventurers and...We appear to be lost!”

(Jeralt) “Clearly.”

(Byleth) “Who are you?”

(Boy in green) “...Well uh...That’s Aqua, Megumin, and Darkness. And I’m Kazuma, I guess.”

...

[More than Truth - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

(Byleth) “And that was our first contact with someone from another universe...”

Sothis nodded.

(Sothis) “So then...Six years later, they help us end the war in Fodlan, then we send the four of them home.”

Byleth looked at the nearby crystal walls.

They were replaying memories when Kazuma and his group first arrived in Fodlan.

Kazuma and Darkness went with the Blue Lions, while Megumin and Aqua had gone to the Black Eagles and Golden Deer respectively.

They caused some chaos in Fodlan with their stupidity, but they saved lives. And when they finally went home, Byleth went to sleep that night, and when he woke up...

...

(Byleth) “D-Dad...?”

When Byleth turned to his left, his eyes became wider.

(Sothis) “...W-wha...?!”

(Jeralt) “Where’d that come from, kid?”

(Byleth) “You’re both alive?!”

Jeralt was taken aback by how suddenly expressive his son was.

(Jeralt) “Clearly you’re still out of it. Come on, get up.”

(Sothis) “B-But we’re fused together aren’t we? How am I-”

SLAM!

(Mercenary) “Jeralt! Sir! Sorry to barge in but your presence is needed!”

(Jeralt) “What’s happened?”

Outside...

(Dimitri) “Please, forgive our intrusion! We would not bother you were our situation not dire!”

(Jeralt) “What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?-”

FWOOM!

A black and purple portal appeared behind them, spitting out at least a dozen people with a violent thud.

As it finished, a massive iron golem was teleported behind them.

(Boy in red) “What in the world...?!”

(Woman in yellow and blue) “Crap, is everyone okay?!”

(Small girl in green) “Y-Yes, Instructor Sara!”

Byleth and Sothis looked at each other.

(Byleth) “Doesn’t this seem like-”

(Sothis) “Kazuma and his group!”

After a wave of confusion among the group, they got around to introducing themselves.

(Boy in red) “My name is Rean Schwarzer of Class VII.”

...

(Sothis) “Then came Class VII.”

Byleth nodded as their memories were displayed on the crystal wall.

They could both hear their words almost clear as day as they walked down the hallway, but did their best to ignore it.

(Byleth) “After Class VII was sent home, we were reset back to the beginning yet again...”

(Sothis) “Then it was...The Phantom Thieves.”

(Byleth) “Right. Then, Megumi, S.E.E.S, the Investigation Team, Denizens of Nazarick, Slayer, and lastly the School-Living Club.”

They reached the end of the hallway.

Each time they had finished their journey with the newcomers, they were reset back when they first woken up by Jeralt, and the following group would take their place until last time.

Before the reset could happen, they chose to reset time themselves with Divine Pulse.

They had no idea if it would work, but they had to try something to break out of this loop.

It resulted in the creation of House Isekai.

Instead of the groups appearing one at a time, they all showed up at once.

And it was now that they all went back to their respective homes together, but Sothis and Byleth could already feel the timeline about to reset once more.

And it was only now they discovered a tower had formed in Zanado.

They had no idea what was inside, but after walking through it, they were starting to get an idea.

Byleth saw at the end of the hallway, a small crystal laying on the ground.

(Byleth) “What is...?”

The crystal displayed a small window, showing the two the contents.

(Byleth) “Is...this a mirror or something?-”

(Crystal) “I don’t know if anyone will be seeing this message, whether that be myself or anyone else who comes into this godforsaken tower but...My name is Byleth Eisner. Son of Jeralt Eisner.”

Byleth and Sothis looked at the Crystal that was playing the recording, and let it play all the way.

Once it was done, they were speechless.

(Byleth) “I...I caused all this?”

Byleth was absolutely horrified by this revelation. He looked at the tower and the crystal mirrors around him, struggling to get his mind wrapped around it.

And it was then the crystal mirrors began to display the routes he had taken prior.

Before the memories of his past were wiped.

(Sothis) “So, this tower is why we keep getting sent back and brought the others in?”

(Byleth) “There’s...There’s no way I would do this! I wouldn’t do any of this!”

(Sothis) “I do not think we can deny what is in front of us. How do we prevent this? No, no. How do we prevent being sent back in time again?!”

(Byleth) “They reset time with Divine Pulse while also using the tower. Perhaps we could try-”

(Sothis) “What?! Child, you heard what that caused, it caused us to lose our memories and rip apart dimensions!”

(Byleth) “Well we have to try something! We did EVERYTHING we were given, fought and bled with our students! WE EVEN HAD OUR DAMN PERFECT ENDING! AND STILL! STILL WE’RE GOING TO LOSE EVERYTHING!”

The memories began to overwhelm the two, hearing echoes of their past finally catch up to them after so many years and timelines.

(Byleth) “...Sothis. We have to. We have to do things right and save everyone.”

(Sothis) “This is a terrible idea.”

Sothis sighed as she began to draw energy into herself from the tower.

(Sothis) “It could barely handle one time, I’m not sure if a second time will-”

KABOOOOOOM!

The entire tower shook violently, forcing Sothis to stop.

(Byleth) “What the hell?!”

The tower began emitting an almost ear piercing screech as everyone’s voices became too much to bear.

(Byleth) “SOTHIS, DO IT NOW!”

(Sothis) “R-RIGHT, HANG ON!”

Sothis raised her hand once more and everything began to turn back in time.

All they had done was reset once again.

Byleth opened his eyes and reached for his head, it pounding in pain.

(Byleth) “Ugh...”

When he looked around, he noticed that everything around them was still the same.

(Sothis) “Did...Did we do anything?”

(Byleth) “I’m not sure. We’re not back at Jeralt’s so maybe we need to-”

Before he could finish his sentence, they heard someone break into the tower.

The reflections in the crystal walls showed multiple men in black robes walking into the tower, seemingly examining it.

(Sothis) “Agarthans?”

(Byleth) “Wait a second isn’t that...?”

The Flame Emperor teleported in and looked around the area with the Agarthans.

(Byleth) “Edelgard?”

(Sothis) “She isn’t supposed to be here! We resolved everything with House Isekai so does that mean?-”

(Byleth) “We’re back in time again. But if we’re here then...who’s in our place?”

One of the Agarthans made their way up to the tower and was completely alone, getting closer to Byleth’s location.

Byleth and Sothis hid near the stairs as they heard the Agarthan walk up.

When the Agarthan made their way down the hall, Byleth stabbed him in the back with the Sword of the Creator and took his robes.

(Sothis) “What are you doing?”

(Byleth) “Improvising. We don’t know what’s going on, and I’ll be damned if I’m getting us caught.”

After Byleth finished getting dressed, he took the mask off the Agarthan and put it on himself.

(Byleth) “We’re gonna need a name as we figure this out.”

(Sothis) “Hm...I think I know one.”

...

Lahabrea made his way to Remire village and saw Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude run to the entrance.

(Lahabrea) “So that seems to be correct, so all that’s left is-”

The gate opened, revealing Jeralt, Byleth, and Sothis.

(Lahabrea) “What in the hell...?”

And as if on cue, Kazuma and his group emerged from a portal behind the students.

(Sothis) “Why are there two of us?”

(Lahabrea) “We must have done something to the tower and we used it for the second time...”

Kazuma’s voice echoed through both of their heads, slowly joined in by the rest of his group.

(Lahabrea) “...We need to go back to the tower and figure out what’s going on.”

(Sothis) “Right.”

Sothis disappeared and before Lahabrea started moving, he took one last look at the Byleth in his place.

...

INTERMISSION

#House Isekai Shadowbringers #House Isekai #fire emblem three houses imagines #fe3h imagines #byleth eisner #jeralt eisner #sothis #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #Edelgard von Hresvelg #Claude von Riegan #satou kazuma #Rean Schwarzer #evil!byleth #crossover #fanfic #writing

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