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spencerspecifics · 3 years ago

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HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

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Pride

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Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn��t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

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taelme · 4 years ago

Text

Enemies-to-lovers!Changbin

request: Hiiiii I read you bangchan enemies to lovers au and I swear if I could like a post more than once I'd like that one a MILLION TIMES I'm wondering if maybe you could write an enemies to lovers au for changbin pretty please? 🥺🥰 genre: enemies-to-lovers!au (again, not Super extreme, low-key clash bc they’re both stubborn), film club president!Changbin, childhood penpal!au (fluff, very mild angst, they bicker a lot, kind of cheesy bc changbin’s a sap and we know that) pairing/s: Changbin / Reader (ft some skz members) word count: 17k+ tw: mild coarse language (they say shit a lot LOL) a/n: THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS...IM PRETTY SURE you waited months for this so thank you for being so so so patient!! I decided to try something a little different from my usual style but idk if it’s That Obvious, but its more structure wise I guess, but nonetheless, I'll be getting a little busier soon so I’m not sure If I'll be able to put out Full one shots for the next few months but I'll try my best w those little shorter ones maybe! (I'll have to see how Tired I am) also p.s I love this gif thank u to whoever made it but changbin is blonde in this fic bc of Personal Reasons

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

I had a good day today. Sorry if the paper is crunchy I am writing this on my bed because my mom thinks I am already asleep. Today I went out with my mom and we went to the park and ate some sandwiches at the park. We had a picnic but with no juice because my sister finished everything. And then we went to the toy shop after lunch. I saw a keychain of a camera and bought it for you because you like acting and cameras can take a video of you acting.

This is a picture of me next to the wishing well at the park, you cannot see it but i’m making a peace sign. I threw a coin in the well and made a wish that your audition will be good. I know you will do very well because you practiced a lot for it. That’s all. I’m a bit tired now. Goodnight, or good morning if you are reading this in the morning. Or afternoon.

I hope i’ll be hearing from you soon, Binnie.

“So, do you wanna keep them? If not I can chuck them together with the rest of your old things,” your mom began, already reaching over to take the letter from you.

Your eyes widened just as quickly, shaking your head quickly as you gripped the envelope and its contents behind your back away from her reach.

“No, no. Don’t throw them away,” you said sternly, softening your gaze when you noticed the way her eyebrows had raised in amusement, embarrassment washing over your features.

“I’ll keep them. Gimme the box.”

Your mom set the beaten looking converse shoebox down onto the table, shaking her head at you as a small chuckle escaped her. Mental note to transfer the letters to a smaller (and more durable) box.

“Alright, alright,” she waved her hands at you in dismissal, “hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”

She shut the door behind her with a light thud, leaving you to stare at the grainy polaroid your childhood penpal had sent you when you both were only eight and still exchanging letters every week.

Inhaling deeply, you shoved the polaroid picture back into the envelope, slipping it into the box of envelopes before getting up. You figured that was a box you wouldn’t have the time to delve into when you were already keeping Jisung waiting.

Driving as fast as you could (or as fast as you dared to) within the speed limit, you’d reached your campus soon enough. It wasn’t that long of a drive and it would be even shorter (walking distance to be specific), when you move into your apartment nearer to campus in a few days. But that didn’t change the fact that you were running late now, spotting Jisung standing by the fountain with a sour look on his face that had only deepened once he’d spotted you.

Before an utterance of apology could leave you, Jisung had pursed his lips, stretching out his hand that held your cup of drink, a small hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“I’m starting to wonder which one of us has worse time management,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head with feigned disappointment as he glanced at his nonexistent watch on his wrist.

Jisung was one to talk, for sure. His crumpled looking shirt over baggy cargo pants and a hat to cover his head of messy hair told you his journey to school wasn’t exactly ‘leisurely’ either.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste, “it’s definitely you. I was only late today ‘cause my mom was showing me my old stuff she found in the storeroom.”

Jisung waved you off, “fine, whatever,” he fished his phone out of his pocket as you started walking towards the auditorium for a class you were both dreading.

“Oh, shit, Hyunjin says the professor’s already in class, we should hurry up.”

Quickening your pace, you were glad to have reached before your professor had started, Jisung directing you towards where Hyunjin was seated at the side of the auditorium, giving him a small nod as you sat down.

Not that Hyunjin noticed anyway, the said boy busy with messaging someone on his phone with a frown on his face.

“What are you doing?”

Jisung peered over Hyunjin’s shoulder, frankly not wanting to focus on the lesson as the professor played a video on boring business things he figured he could just ask you for later.

Hyunjin sighed, setting his phone down onto the table and pushing his laptop open further, going to his email with quick clicks on his trackpad, “gotta send the scene for the auditions later to Changbin.”

“Oh, for that film thing?” Jisung asked, earning a nod from Hyunjin, whose eyebrows furrowed as they remembered your presence.

“Y/N should audition,” Hyunjin nodded his head towards you, his mention of your name distracting you momentarily, but you’d brushed it off quickly as you tried to take down whatever your professor was rambling on about.

At your lack of response, Jisung nudged your shoulder with more force, “hey, did you hear what Hyunjin said?”

You tore your gaze reluctantly from your professor as your fingers finished typing whatever you had left in your memory, the confused look on your face prompting Hyunjin to take over.

“We’re having auditions later for the movie the film club’s gonna be making,” he started, nodding slowly as his eyebrows raised, “I was saying you should join, you’d be good for the role.”

You narrowed your eyes at Hyunjin, “what’s it about?”

Jisung huffed, “some cheesy penpal shit, the last I heard.”

Your quirked an eyebrow at that, Hyunjin rolling his eyes.

“Something like that, but it’s not super romantic. They’re childhood penpals who meet again in the future but they don’t end up together, I don’t know how to explain it to you as well as Changbin can, but will you come anyway?”

You scrunch your nose as you consider his offer.

Was there anything you needed to prepare? You didn’t even know exactly what you were signing up for. Or much less anyone in the film club. Well, other than Hyunjin, of course.

“Is there any script I'm supposed to prepare with?” you asked, making Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise, his lips parting in realisation.

“I’m pretty sure it depends on what role you want…” he trailed off, making you scoff.

Not being able to help the laugh from escaping you, you narrowed your eyes at him, “you sound like you’re not even in the club.”

Hyunjin flashed you a sweet smile, “you know what? I’ll just send you what I sent Changbin. You can just prepare with that! Penny’s role!”

Jisung snorted, his hand coming up in a poor attempt to stifle his giggles.

“Penny? Is it because...she’s a pen pal?”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, finding it awfully amusing as well.

Hyunjin frowned, scrunching his nose up in distaste, “we couldn’t think of anything better, okay?”

You huffed, lower lip jutting out in a small pensive pout. You didn’t have much going on in terms of school productions as of now, anyway, you guessed there would be no harm in showing some support for Hyunjin.

“What time are the auditions?”

“They start from lunchtime until like five,” Hyunjin tried his best to recall, looking at you with his best pleading gaze.

Sighing again, you nodded, “this is my only class for today.”

Hyunjin was practically beaming now.

“Perfect.”

===

“I don’t like it.”

Hyunjin sputtered over his sip of coffee, an incredulous expression on his face, attracting looks from the other film club members in the dance studio. Excusing himself, he’d made his way outside, oblivious to the squeals and stares the girls waiting to audition were directing towards him, settling himself in the middle of the field outside the dance studio.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t like it’?” he asked you again, his eyebrows furrowed as curiosity took over him.

You sighed, rolling your shoulders back as you nodded at one of your teachers you were walking past, your grip relaxing on your phone as your arm had started to get tired.

“I mean, I read through the script, and something about Penny’s character just doesn’t sit right with me,” you told him, “it just… doesn’t make sense for her to come to that conclusion when she’d been having a perfectly good time with the guy before that, you know?”

Pausing, you’d waited for him to respond, his silence prompting you to continue with your elaboration.

“Okay, I’ll put it this way,” you started, adjusting your grip on your laptop in your arm, “If I were a reader, or like, a viewer in this case, I would wanna be able to pick up on these small moments or signs that Penny is actually thinking about her relationship, do you know what I mean? Because now the way it looks is that she’s just a plot device meant to hurt him, and that there’s no exploration of the development of their relationship at all.”

Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, “Okay, I know, I know, but the thing is… this was Changbin’s idea, and I don’t know if you’ve heard—I mean, you probably have, but… nobody really questions him.”

You hummed, following Hyunjin into the school building and tugging your coat tighter around yourself, the cold air in the building shocking you as you entered.

“Yeah, I get that, but you’re forgetting that I don’t have the same relationship with this Changbin guy that you guys do. I don’t mind telling him that I have a problem with it. I don’t wanna be acting out some two-dimensional love interest character if I can help it.”

Hyunjin grimaced, not seeming to be too keen on your insistence, “I really think it might be a little late for him to change the script.”

“It’s never too late.”

“Well to Changbin it could be!” Hyunjin insisted, making you roll your eyes, a small chuckle leaving you.

You huffed, “I still think the audience deserves a better film with better crafted characters.”

Hyunjin let out a sound in between a sigh and a groan, “Okay fine, you just have to make sure you get the role, and then you’re free to argue with Changbin all you want. Deal?”

“Deal,” You turned the corner and spotted Hyunjin standing in the middle of the field, already making his way back to the dance studio.

“Okay,” he spoke before you could end the call, “I gotta go, see you later.”

You didn’t expect there to be so many people at the auditions, mostly girls and just a handful of guys. Though you seemed to piece the uneven ratio together when you saw the not-so-furtive stares the girls would cast in Hyunjin’s direction whenever he’d peek his head out from the crack in the door to call the next person in.

You recognized one of the guys who’d come in later than you, one of Jisung’s upperclassmen friends whose name was Minho.

“Didn’t think i’d see you here,” he gave you a small smile as he took a seat next to you.

Shrugging in response, you let out an awkward huff of laughter, not used to talking to him about anything other than his cats and Jisung’s whereabouts.

“Yeah… well, Hyunjin asked me to come, so I figured I might as well,” you fiddled with the slip of paper with the scene printed on it, “not like I had anything better to do, anyway.”

Minho nodded slowly, leaning closer to you and dropping his voice to a murmur, “I’ve never seen any of these girls before.”

You huffed, “I’m pretty sure most of them are here for Hyunjin.”

“Oh yeah, makes sense,” Minho hummed, a small lilt of amusement to his tone, “where is he, anyway? He told me he would be here—”

Minho’s question was answered when the girls beside the both of you had erupted into harsh whispers and murmurs, tapping each other excitedly as Hyunjin could be seen through the window panel in the door, looking on seriously as one of the girls inside the room was auditioning.

You huffed, gesturing to the window.

“Found him.”

Inside the room, Changbin was distracted.

He knew he had a certain image in his head about what he wanted ‘Penny’ to be. But whatever the girls that had auditioned so far had been showing, that dramatic ‘i never loved you!’ emotion, that wasn’t exactly it. And it didn’t help either that they struggled letting go of the dramatics when Chan would prompt them to try a different angle.

Hyunjin cast a (mildly concerned) look at Changbin, trying to gauge his expression, figuring the pointed look Changbin had sent his way was enough to say he didn’t think this girl would be shortlisted.

“Who’s next?” Chan leaned over in his seat to peek at the clipboard of names of signups, Changbin leaning back in his seat and pushing the clipboard towards him, not finding it in him to be able to be more hopeful about the next person.

“Oh, Y/N,” Chan hummed, nodding with an impressed expression on his face, the name catching Changbin’s attention, “that’s cool, didn’t think they’d audition.”

“Y/N?” Changbin echoed, something about the name awfully familiar to him, yet not being able to make the connection in his memories yet.

So for now, he’d simply gestured to Hyunjin to signal that he could send the next girl in, Chan sweetly thanking the girl that had just auditioned as she left the room.

Making your way into the room, you scanned the ‘panel’ of judges.

You recognized Chan, the said pale-faced boy looking even more tired when he’d yawned as you made your way to the centre of the room. He came to your school productions often since he and Felix were friends, and Felix was always involved in some way or another. The other boy, though, you didn’t think you’d seen before.

The two of them seemed to exude completely different auras, with Chan smiling warmly at you and gesturing for you to come closer while the other boy sat with his arms folded across his chest, frowning at you as though you were a code to decipher.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here,” Chan broke the silence first, giggling.

You shook your head, “honestly didn’t think i’d sign-up either.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile, rocking back on your heels as you glanced at the boy next to him again, “I actually only heard about it from Hyunjin this morning,” you admitted, Hyunjin flashing Chan a grin from behind you as if to say ‘you’re welcome’.

Changbin cleared his throat, making Chan perk up.

“Right, sorry. So, we’ve obviously met but this is our club’s president Changbin,” he gestured to the boy sitting next to him.

Changbin nodded curtly, bringing his hand up to run it through his bleached hair and shoving his cap back on his head with habitual movements.

Now you were starting to understand why Hyunjin was so intimidated by Changbin, always having heard stories about him but only now being able to put a face to the name.

Nodding slowly, you gave him a smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

Changbin had to stop himself from faltering, his breath hitching when he realised why your name was so familiar.

After all, it had been the first candidate before they’d decided to go with ‘penny’. He wondered how cruel fate was to have brought you, someone with the same name as the person he’d practically based this story on, to be auditioning for the very role.

You tried not to be offended by the way Changbin had simply nodded at you, straightening up in his seat, “and you’ll be auditioning for the role of…?”

Would it hurt him to smile?

You inhaled deeply, trying to hide your amusement as you answered him, “Penny.”

Changbin nodded, Chan humming as he looked up from his copy of the script to give you another reassuring smile.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready. I’ll be taking the lines of the male lead,” Chan told you.

You understood that the scene was some sort of scene where the two romantic leads have some sort of confrontation, and you did your best to get into what you imagined Penny would be feeling, Chan reading the line asking if ‘penny’ had even loved him at all. Dramatic was the word to describe it, really.

You softened your gaze, unintentionally letting it rest on Changbin but deciding to let it stay there, executing your lines all the while trying to ignore the way Changbin’s stare was unnerving you, making you want to prove to him that you were a good actor even though he hadn’t questioned your acting skills.

Hyunjin had been watching the exchange closely, Changbin’s grip on his pencil loosening as he’d let the pencil fall softly against the table.

Changbin wondered if it was some sort of coincidence, because whatever ‘it’ was that he’d been looking for in Penny’s character, you’d managed to convey almost perfectly.

And it was clear that Chan had felt the same way as well, since once your audition was over, the smile on Chan’s face was nothing but beaming.

Once you’d left the room, Hyunjin telling you that they would contact you by the next morning, Chan had turned to Changbin, the same stupid smile on his face.

“That was great!” he nudged Changbin, the younger boy still recovering from the shock of the coincidence of it all, managing to muster a small huff in response.

“Yeah,” Changbin reached over to grab his water bottle, prolonging his silence as he took a long sip, “I don’t think we’d even need to see the rest.”

Chris scrunched his nose up, grinning, “but you know we still will, of course. Just in case.”

Changbin sighed, glancing at the clock, agreeing with Chan even though he knew he’d already had his mind made up.

“Yeah, just in case,” Changbin mumbled, looking out the window and seeing you talk to Minho, tearing his gaze away and rolling his shoulders back.

“Okay, send the next one in.”

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I’m okay. I like the picture you sent me of you using your scooter. My mom says you look nice. I think so too.

Today I went to the museum and I ate an ice cream for lunch. I don’t have a picture of it but it was a Strawberry ice cream.

I just finished reading your letter. Sorry to say it using a bad word, but i think what your sister did was stupid. I think you should still tell her to ask for permission to use your scooter. But if she still does not listen, maybe you should tell her again. Because my mom always tells me that if I want something, I have to ask for it. So you should do that. Maybe she does not know you don’t like it when she plays with your scooter. Or, you could buy a new scooter. Here is some money so you can buy a scooter. I drew you $50 because that is a lot of money. I hope you have a good day when you read this.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

You weren’t the world’s kindest human alive, you had your petty moments. I mean, there were so many songs and literature and movies that highlighted that idea that no human was perfect, right? But you tried your best, surely.

So, you’d gladly complied when Hyunjin asked you to grab extra cups of coffee for Chan and Changbin (as reluctant as you were. You were strapped for cash as it was).

You figured that was the least you could do before the trouble you were about to cause the both of them. But hopefully, if office etiquette was anything to go by, the simple gesture would show that you were kind, and someone who appreciated the offer given to you, as much as you hated the superficiality of your character.

However, when you showed up at the room, you were reminded that Changbin wasn’t just anyone. And while Chan made his appreciation known, Changbin… was the same as ever. Intimidating, and very hard to read. The sight of it almost made you want to take back his coffee.

He wasn’t wearing a hat today. Instead, he’d let his blonde hair (which looked darker since the last time you saw him, or maybe it was just his dyed-black undercut) fall messily over his forehead in a slight side part.

His black shirt did nothing to hide his physique, every movement of his coming across as a subtle flex, making you have to remind yourself time and time again that you weren’t exactly here to fawn over him.

He would lean back in his seat, scrolling through whatever he was looking at in his phone with one hand, his other hand draped over his stomach and propped underneath his elbow to support it. The way he would look made it seem as if he was almost oblivious to the world around him, only paying attention to what was on his phone until he would laugh at something Chan said, Chan being the only person you’ve seen that managed to elicit seemingly uncharacteristic giggles from him.

Though it wasn’t as if you were given much time to get used to it. The moment Chan had murmured something in his ear, his expression had switched back to ‘strictly business’.

Chan straightened up, looking around the room with his eyebrows slightly raised in question, one hand adjusting the braided leather bracelet around his wrist

“So, shall we get started then?” Chan asked, gesturing to Changbin before typing away at his laptop.

Changbin took his cue, getting up from his seat and making his way around the table to the front of the room, pulling the overhanging screen up to reveal the whiteboard.

“So, first of all, we’ve finalised the actors playing the characters,” he gestured towards you and Minho, “Minho as Soobin and Y/N as Penny. So, we can start shooting about next week. I would say we’re working with a pretty loose deadline because we don’t have to submit it until a few months from now.”

Changbin rolled his shoulders back, his body language seeming fairly relaxed although his expression remained serious nonetheless, “but that doesn’t mean we should slack, obviously.”

His statement elicited a small groan from Hyunjin, who muttered a ‘figures’ under his breath, making you stifle your giggles for Changbin’s sake.

“But we will start with maybe going over the script once through, go over the technical stuff after we get any issues with the flow out of the way.”

He looked as though he were going through a mental list of things to cover, his gaze flickering momentarily to Hyunjin, as if his face would give him answers to the invisible question in his head.

“The people in charge of the props, have you started preparing the letters?” Chan stepped in, earning a shake of the head from the two girls sitting next to Hyunjin, making Changbin wave a hand dismissively in their direction.

“They could start on that after we confirm the script,” Changbin leaned over the table to grab his cup of coffee, proceeding to take a long sip from it.

“Alright, let’s start then.”

Changbin took the empty seat he was standing next to, pulling his laptop closer to him to pull up the script.

Throughout the reading, you tried to keep your comments to yourself, you really did. It just fascinated you how fearful the team was of Changbin (well, aside from Chan), the way everyone seemed to bite their tongues or withhold their comments caused a permanent frown to be etched on your face.

It didn’t make it any better that Minho seemed to have no problems with the script, not even when you’d occasionally leant over to whisper to him and ask if he found that part a little weird or a little abrupt. But you held your tongue for now, (and also because of the side glance Hyunjin would cast your way whenever you would let out a small sigh), you wanted to give Changbin the benefit of the doubt, figuring maybe if he read through his script again he’d realise how one-sided it was.

But thankfully, when you were reading out the lines where the two main characters had ended their date, and on a particularly high note for that matter, it seemed the opportunity to voice your concerns about the script was presented to you when Changbin had spoken up.

“Okay, since the next scene onwards will be where their relationship breaks down, any questions so far?” He asked, though his tone didn’t sound like he was really asking for feedback. But, hey, an opportunity as an opportunity, wasn’t it?

You cleared your throat a little too harshly, raising up your hand as you leaned against the table to be seen better, “uh, actually, me? I mean, I have some feedback actually.”

Changbin looked at you curiously, his gaze landing on you with slight surprise, as if he hadn’t expected it to be you of all people. There was a slight hesitancy evident in the way he paused before giving you a short nod, prompting you to go ahead.

You smiled, ignoring the way Hyunjin had sighed deeply a few seats away from you, dreading the chaos that could have come with people like you and Changbin bumping heads.

“Well, it’s not really specific to this scene. It’s kind of about the whole flow of the plot in general…” you fiddled with the corner of the page you were on, “but I was thinking it would be better to show more of Penny’s point of view? You know, because when I was reading it it just felt a little… weird for them to suddenly break up if everything seemed to be going fine.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at you, looking back down at his computer with a simple dismissive shake of the head, “That’s not necessary, they’re going to break up anyway.”

The room had fallen silent, everybody seeming to have taken that as a ‘end of the conversation’ kind of line, already beginning to bring their attention to the next scene.

You frowned, unable to control your expression as you made your dismay obvious, casting a desperate look to Hyunjin who honestly looked as though he would pay you not to pursue this.

“But that’s not the point,” you spoke, getting Chan’s attention as he looked at you, silently urging you to continue, “you wanted to show their relationship, right? So, shouldn’t you show… both their parts in the relationship? Since it’s not like this is told in Soobin’s point of view.”

Changbin pursed his lips, “the point is,” he brought his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a small sip before continuing, “their relationship was superficial so it doesn’t matter.”

You mirrored his expression. The way it sounded was that he was just trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter.

Your frown deepened, quick to respond to him.

“That’s the thing, if you’re so insistent on them breaking up, why don’t you just make their relationship lead up to that? The way they’re interacting up to this scene makes viewers think they’re just going to end up together,” you tried to reason, hoping Changbin would understand where you were coming from.

Minho took that opportunity to excuse himself to the bathroom, and as you gave the rest of the film club members a once-over, you hated the way they were all looking at you as if you were cussing Changbin out instead of just giving him constructive feedback, or just voicing your thoughts for that matter.

“Well, not everyone gets a happy ending, I guess.”

He was practically avoiding your message at this point, making you grow more frustrated.

“Okay, look, what’s your intention behind making this film?” you asked, watching carefully as Changbin huffed, looking fairly amused at your insistence, which only served to irk you more.

“Simple,” he shrugged, “to show people like you that not everything that seems so perfect ends up perfect in the end.”

Your lips parted, scoffing, resisting the urge to get up from your seat as you heard Minho re-enter the room.

“People like me?” you echoed spitefully, “okay, fine, whatever. But as you said, if that’s the point of your discourse, shouldn’t your message be to tell people that they can work through things like this instead of just giving up and leaving like Penny did?”

Changbin was annoyed now. To him, you seemed too idealistic to understand his reasoning behind the story. He wondered why it had to be you that was telling him this, you were the only one that was trying to find problems with his story, that he’d based on his own life for that matter.

“Well what if she did, huh? What if Penny did just up and leave with no warning?”

You rolled your eyes, hearing Chan struggle to stifle his laugh, your exchange with Changbin being just about the most excitement he had in the whole school year.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “which is why I'm saying that your job as a storyteller is to shed some light on the reason behind that. Then your story wouldn’t be about showing how things don’t turn out the way they seem, it would just be telling you, but not showing you. You could just ask literally anybody to hurt Minho—”

“Soobin,” you heard Minho correct from beside you, making you huff, scrunching your eyes shut tightly before opening them harshly.

“—Yes, Soobin’s character, and it would be the same? The story wouldn’t show me anything other than the fact that it was Soobin’s fault he ended up that way. He didn’t question anything that happened, he just let it happen to him,” you sighed again, clenching your jaw, “Penny isn’t anything other than some 2-dimensional plot device designed as an excuse for Soobin to sulk about how cruel love is.”

Changbin scrunched his nose up, his brows knitting in annoyance as he stared at you, a silence falling again in the room. Changbin was about to interject when Chan had decided that would be a good time to step in.

“C’mon guys, let’s… calm down a little. We’re talking about penpals here, not the king’s lover betraying him.”

You cast Chan a questioning look at his example, making him shrug, continuing, “we’re running a little overtime anyway, we can just continue discussing this another time.”

Just like that, the rest of the film club members seemed eager to leave, either rushing for their next class or just not wanting to be in the same environment as an irritable Changbin.

Chan directed his gaze towards you as you were getting up from your seat, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sure Changbin will keep your points in mind, don’t worry,” he reassured you just as Changbin chimed in with a ‘no, I won’t’ behind him, leaving the room promptly afterwards, leaving you free to let out the frustrated groan you had been withholding.

“Thanks, Chan. Sorry I kind of made you guys overrun your time,” you sighed, watching Hyunjin making his way to you with wide eyes.

Chan shook his head, holding his laptop securely in one arm as he let out a burst of giggles.

“No, don’t apologize! I should be thanking you, I didn’t think about your point until you mentioned it just now,” he murmured, “but again, sorry about Changbin. He’s just a little… protective of his work.”

Hyunjin let out a low whistle from next to you, “Extremely.”

You nodded, shrugging, “It’s alright, I get it.”

Chan flashed you a smile, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Thanks, again. See you around.”

Leaving the room with Hyunjin, you ignored the way he’d begun to chuckle to himself, “honestly, in this whole time i’ve been in the film club, i’ve never seen Changbin actually… argue with someone.”

You rolled your eyes, kicking at the stray pebble “well if he continues like this, you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of it.”

“You sure seemed like you were having fun, though, weren’t you?” Hyunjin was being sarcastic, knowing he was just doing this to dissuade you, his tone eliciting a scoff from you.

You shook your head.

“You know for a fact I wasn’t. But it wouldn’t sit right with me if I just kept my mouth shut like you and the rest of your film club goons,” you shot him a pointed glare.

Hyunjin pressed his lips into a firm line, holding his hands up beside his head in surrender, prompting you to continue.

“If I want something done, I’m gonna ask for it. It’s as simple as that.”

===

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

Was your audition good? Thank you for the money. But $50 is a lot of money so I don’t think I should spend everything, my mom says I need to save money. Thank you for telling me what I should do, but in the end I didn’t buy another scooter. I did this because we were learning about needs vs wants in school and I think the scooter is a want. My teacher says this means I don’t really need it. But needs are things like colour pencils and pens and paper so I can write letters to send you. Maybe your mom tells you you cannot buy so many stickers because the stickers are a want and not a need.

Anyway, I think I can just let my sister take my scooter. Maybe I will just get another scooter for myself when I am older and I have more money.

I hope I will be hearing from you soon, Binnie.

As you said before, you weren’t perfect, but you surely did your best. But days like this you wondered if people like Changbin even tried.

After your interaction with said stubborn being during your meeting with the film club had put you in a bad mood, you were currently seated with Jisung in a booth at a popular burger outlet outside school, thankfully having managed to get a place in the midst of the anxious afternoon crowd. And even more thankful that you could eat your lunch in peace where you were very much away from Changbin.

“What did you say to him, again?” Jisung hadn’t bothered trying to hold in his laughter as he was almost shouting over the noise of the crowd, making you huff as you bit into your burger.

“I said it’s funny that he was talking so much shit about the main couple when he’s dedicating his entire movie to them,” you drawled, your annoyance returning as you recounted the spat you had with him during the small meeting you had with the film club just before lunch.

Jisung’s shoulders shook as he laughed, fumbling with his drink as his eyes shut tightly, giggles leaving him and seeming as though they would never end, “and that’s what you said word for word?”

You nodded, reaching over to press the lid of Jisung’s drink down firmer before he could spill it all over himself.

“I know you’re friends with him but I really don’t know how you work with this guy, he’s as stubborn as stubborn goes,” you huffed, taking another bite into your burger as Jisung’s laughter had died down, though his smile had only lingered.

“You’re worse,” he snickered, earning a glare from you.

Jisung remained unaffected, “Look, he’s honestly fine once you get to know him,” he tried to reason, sounding as though he were trying to convince a child to make friends, “I mean, we’re all still kind of wary around him when he’s in a mood but honestly, if not for the way you guys met, I’m pretty sure you two would get along well. He seems like he’s your type.”

Your eyes widened, scandalised at Jisung’s implication.

“The only thing he has in common with my exes is being annoying, okay?” you rushed to push away the curiosity of what Changbin would be like as a boyfriend. Curse Jisung and his stupid implication.

“And plus,” you continued, hearing the doorbell chime for what sounded like the thousandth time to signal yet another entry into the diner that was now overflowing with people asking for take-out, “it’s not like he’s been very nice to me since I got involved with his stupid short film.”

Jisung sighed, his gaze momentarily distracted by something behind you, making you wave your hand in front of his face to keep his attention. He’d glanced back at you, an almost dazed look in his eyes before he’d given you a small smile, taking a bite out of his burger and not waiting to finish chewing before he answered you.

“I honestly think that he just needs a little more persuasion. Like, take this for example, something similar happened with him and Chan when they were composing something in the past, and trust me, if you don’t give up now, i’m pretty sure he’d agree to come to a compromise or something,” he gave you a shrug, his gaze returning to whatever was behind you (probably someone cute, you figured). You couldn’t say you blamed him; almost all your conversations revolved around you and Changbin’s squabbles these days.

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at him, “you really think he’d be willing to rewrite his script?”

Your tone was skeptical, already imagining how Changbin would simply tell you to keep dreaming if you’d brought up the proposal to him.

At Jisung’s lack of response, you’d frowned slightly, seeing him turn back to you calmly as his smile widened, giving you yet another shrug.

“Maybe you can ask him yourself.”

If there was any feeling one would get just before something bad was about to happen, that was definitely what you were feeling now.

You didn’t dare to tear your gaze away from Jisung as you watched him turn his body, his hand coming up in a wave that had only turned into a hi-five, his behaviour only adequately described as boisterous as he welcomed the people you were hoping you wouldn’t have to see for another week until the next film club meeting.

Well, Chan was fine, you were simply referring to Changbin.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Didn’t know you and Jisung were friends,” Chan gave you a sweet smile, gesturing between you and Jisung as he spoke.

Jisung chimed in with a nonchalant “Best friends, actually,” which had only made you shoot him a glare.

“Might have to re-evaluate that,” you muttered, turning back to Chan and Changbin to give them as warm a smile as you could muster.

“Are you guys eating here too?” you asked.

You were oblivious to the way Changbin’s gaze flickered from your face to the food in your hand, and then back to Jisung, looking perfectly unaffected as he joked with Jisung about something you didn’t quite catch.

“Well, we wanted to, but, you know, with the crowd and all we probably won’t be able to get a seat,” Chan’s gaze was pitiful, to say the least, making Jisung raise his eyebrows, and that sinking feeling within you had only intensified as his next sentence left his lips.

Jisung had barely glanced at you as he held onto Changbin’s hand.

“Well, our booth’s actually meant to seat four people, so you guys could squeeze in if you want,” he offered.

Changbin quirked his eyebrow, skepticism written all over his features, though mostly directed towards you, “you guys really won’t mind?”

You glared at your burger, scrunching your nose up as you avoided Changbin’s pointed gaze.

Jisung scoffed, giving Changbin a loud smack on the arm, “of course we won’t, right Y/N?”

He turned to you, giving you a smile you could only describe to be devious (and fairly amused).

“Yeah,” your voice took a pitch higher unintentionally, “go ahead,” you murmured, scooting into the booth to make space for them.

You took another bite from your burger, watching out of the corner of your eye as Changbin took a seat next to Jisung, Chan excusing himself to retrieve both their orders.

“Funny that you showed up, actually. Y/N and I were just talking about your short film,” Jisung spoke, earning a pointed glare for you, as if daring him to continue (and you should’ve known that wasn’t going to faze him at all).

“Oh, were you?” Changbin drawled, his eyebrows raised and a slight smile playing at his lips, “I’m sure Y/N had a lot to say about that.”

As you were about to speak, Jisung had interjected with a little giggle, “she did.”

Changbin didn’t seem to take Jisung’s comment as an answer, simply keeping his gaze fixed on you, prompting you to produce an answer of your own. You ignored the knowing look Jisung gave you.

You sighed, “maybe I wouldn’t, if someone just took my suggestions.”

Changbin had let out a small huff at that, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest as Chan returned to the table with his and Changbin’s food, casting curious glances between the three of you seated at the table.

“Hope you guys didn’t fight while I was gone,” he joked, making you sigh, and you missed the pointed look he cast Changbin’s way when the boy had scoffed, “what were you guys talking about before I came?”

You shrugged.

“We were talking about the short film,” you told him, “kind of.”

Chan had perked up at that, turning to you as he handed Changbin his food, “oh yeah, I wanted to ask if you had more feedback about the scenes.”

You nodded, “I do, actually.”

Changbin’s gaze lifted from his burger to look at you as he sighed, “what is it now?”

You huffed, “It’s not that bad. I was just wondering if the content of the letters were gonna be read out during the scene? ‘Cause if it is, then maybe we could kind of make it a little more relevant to their personalities or something.”

“Will that be hard? What do kids even talk about in their letters?” Jisung laughed.

Changbin’s lips parted slightly before pressing them into a firm line.

“Well, they’ll be like 9 when they’re exchanging letters, I suppose, so I guess they’d at least know how to have a conversation… ” He sounded almost hesitant, making you wonder why he made talking about childhood penpals seem like such a complex thing.

You thought about your own penpal, Binnie. You were about that age when you were exchanging letters with him too, figuring you could give some insight on that until Jisung had intercepted.

“At that age all I did was talk about hot wheels, to be honest. Much less talk to girls,” he snorted, making you scoff, using your shoe to nudge his leg under the table.

Chan, who had been silently thinking, had straightened up abruptly.

“Wait,” Chan’s eyebrows lowered, frowning slightly as his lower lip jut out in a slight pout. He directed his attention to Changbin, pointing his index finger towards him, “didn’t you used to have a penpal?”

You had to stop yourself from making your shock too obvious, your eyes widening as your gaze became nothing but accusatory. How badly did his penpal experience go for him to be so cynical about it now?

Whatever it was, the newfound information made you curious as to exactly how much of the story he’d changed, more importantly, how much he’d retained.

“You?” you couldn’t help yourself from blurting, though Changbin remained unamused.

“Yeah, I did,” he bypassed your incredulous stare, answering Chan simply.

Jisung hummed, bringing one hand up to fiddle with his ear piercing, not having expected Changbin’s response.

“Oh, well, what was it like, then?”

Changbin shrugged, resting one of his forearms on the table to support himself, his other hand reaching down to pick up a fry, “was nice. We would exchange letters every week. Talked about a lot of things, sent each other pictures, you know, all that stuff.”

“Do you still keep in contact with them?” Chan asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, not having heard much from Changbin about this penpal in the entire duration of their friendship.

Changbin shook his head, “nope,” he popped the p, picking up his cup to swirl it around noisily, the ice rumbling as it got tossed around in the paper cup, proceeding to take a sip from it as the rest of you looked on curiously at him.

“Well, why not?” you dared to ask, a million different possible reasons running through your mind.

Maybe they did something to piss Changbin off, or maybe they got into a big fight (which also made you wonder how heated fights could get over snail mail), or maybe one of their parents disapproved of the other. The possibilities were endless as you anticipated just why 8 year old Changbin would’ve cut ties with his penpal. And maybe, you were enjoying the dramatic aspect of it a little more than you should’ve been.

But something about the way he replied felt restrained. Maybe you were reading into it too much, but he almost sounded evasive. But, of course, you chose to ignore (suppress) it for now, watching intently as Changbin had once again shrugged, an air of nonchalance to his gestures as he met your gaze.

“Just… grew out of it, I guess.”

You huffed, memories of your own penpal making his response sting.

You don’t think you ever ‘grew out’ of talking to binnie. You remembered how frustrated you were when you’d stopped hearing from him after he moved, and every letter you’d sent to his new address had only been returned back to you. Maybe he grew out of it, but you wouldn’t have left it like that if you had a choice.

You rolled your eyes at his response, something in your response seeming to have irked Changbin.

“What?” he snapped, making you hesitate just the slightest bit, deciding to bite your tongue and shake your head.

“Nothing.”

Chan let out a huff of laughter through his nose next to you, shaking his head at you goodnaturedly.

“Forgive us, you always seem like you have something more to say,” Chan spoke, apparent ‘damage control’ for Changbin’s abrasiveness.

“Wait, so, you’re really not gonna have a happy ending?” Jisung frowned.

“Well, Changbin and I were talking about it after the meeting that day, we figured since we have time we could afford to change the script a little,” he hummed, turning to you, “you know, since it could be a chance to kind of send a more hopeful message like you were talking about.”

Your eyes widened, your hand almost reaching out to touch Chan’s arm but realising you were still holding your burger, “really? You’re open to changing it?”

Changbin’s gaze flickered momentarily to you, observing your posture, noticing how open and comfortable you seemed with Chan, the sight alone enough to make him scoff. Call him a cynic, but he couldn’t tell if this was you acting or not just to get your way.

“There could be another meeting for you to discuss and work on the script together, but yeah, we’re alright with changing it.”

You turned to Changbin, a hint of distrust in your stare, making him huff again, putting down his drink on the table with a little too much force.

“He said it, not me,” he told you, pressing his lips firmly into a tight line, “you wanna change my script so badly? Fine. But your ideas better be worth changing it for.”

Jisung scrunched up his nose as you turned back to Chan, not wishing to look at Changbin’s face any longer, leaning over to whisper to Changbin, “you two don’t like each other very much, do you?”

If he was caught off guard by Jisung’s statement, he didn’t show it.

Changbin shrugged, picking his drink back up, “they started it.”

At the sound of his accusation, your eyes narrowed, turning to glare at Changbin, thankful for Jisung nudging you under the table before you could retaliate with a comment of your own. Chan simply casting you an amused look, his eyebrows raised in a silent question of what you were about to do.

You shook your head.

Whatever, you pushed your annoyance away in your head, as long as Chan was there during the rewrite meeting, you’d hopefully still be able to maintain your sanity.

Or at least, that was the hope that you were holding on to until that night when you’d gotten a text from Chan.

Chan 11:17pm - hey, i gave changbin your number if you don't mind... you know, since you guys have to discuss to rewrite the script and all -

You’d almost sat up from your bed in shock, frowning against the harsh light coming from your phone and the contents of the text, the latter obviously making you more disgruntled.

11:17pm - won’t you be discussing with us?? Why not just make a group chat??? -

Your heart was pumping with anxiousness as you awaited his reply, something about the sound of the clock ticking putting you in an even more anxious state, your heart almost sinking as texts from him and Changbin had come in at the same time.

You looked at Chan’s first.

Chan 11:18pm - oh i didn’t tell you? All script writing is done by Changbin. I’m just in charge of the other elements like props and directing and whatnot -

You shut your eyes, suddenly wishing you could travel back a few seconds back in time and not have checked your phone when Chan had texted you. Bringing your fingers across your screen reluctantly as you typed a reply to him.

11:18pm - ohhh hahaha right i forgot, thanks chan -

Now for the bigger menace at hand. You swiped over to Changbin’s message, your finger lingering on his chat as you decided to stop being petty and just open it.

seo changbin 11:18pm - just so you know, i’m doing this only because Chan asked me to. we can go over the changes at my house. is saturday okay with you? -

You pulled your notifications bar down. Tomorrow was Friday, and from what you knew you were pretty much free on Saturday. Fortunately or unfortunately for you.

You took another deep breath as you typed out your reply to him. For your own sanity, you tried to ignore the way he felt the need to clarify that he wasn’t doing it for your sake.

11:18pm - saturday’s fine. What time?-

Resisting the urge to go offline when you saw him come online, you felt as though you were in some sort of staring contest through your phone as you watched him type, his message coming in quickly.

seo changbin 11:18pm -1? We could order in and discuss -

You sighed, it wasn’t enough that he had to take away one peaceful lunch from you today, but yet another one on Saturday.

11:19pm -okay text me your address-

Another sigh left you when you read that the address he’d sent you was just a few blocks away from your apartment. Maybe he lived alone too; most of the apartments here were occupied by college students looking for affordable rent and shorter travel time.

seo changbin 11:19pm - don't be late -

You scoffed, shoving your phone back onto your bedside table as you slumped back against your pillow, burying your head into your pillow and kicking at your blanket that covered your feet uncomfortably.

Fine, if he wanted to be that way, that was fine by you. You would just do this for the sake of the short film. Yeah. That’s all it would be.

===

“Let’s make this quick and painless for the both of us,” you blurted the moment Changbin had opened his door to let you in, glad to see he was donning an outfit similar to yours (sweatpants and a t-shirt), your previous worries of being underdressed dissipating instantly.

He let out a sigh, his hand coming up to run it through his hair, his hair messy and sticking up at one place awkwardly, looking as though he’d slept on that side for too long.

“Hello to you too,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind you as he gestured to the living room.

You glanced around his rather plain apartment as he led you to the living room, his laptop resting on one of the cushions of the sofa, soft music verberating from the device.

“What food do you want?” he asked, earning a thoughtful frown from you as you set your things down on the floor next to the sofa, taking a seat on the other side of it.

“Fastest delivery would be if we order from that Chinese food place nearby, right?”

Changbin’s eyebrows quirked up in intrigue, “I was thinking of that place too,” he handed you his phone, letting you order what you wanted before handing it back to him.

It was otherwise silent between the both of you as you waited for the food to arrive, neither of you quite knowing how to break the silence. The tension slowly made you grow increasingly fidgety as time passed.

Changbin had sat down on the floor next to the coffee table, resting one hand on his soft rug as he pushed a stack of papers towards you, drawing your attention away from your soft copy of the script on your phone as you realised it was a hard copy of the script.

“Just use this, i’ve got a copy on my laptop,” he mumbled, making you nod, accepting it from him as you flipped to where you left off.

Changbin glanced at the clock, in disbelief that only 10 minutes had passed and yet he found himself feeling jittery at your silence. Turning his gaze towards you, he let out a small sigh.

He had expected you to say something by now, or let out some snarky comment about something he wrote. Your silence was unnerving him, it was almost as if he wanted you to say something, especially with the way you were scribbling notes beside the pages with a mechanical pencil he didn’t even recall seeing you take out.

“Which scene are you at?” he blurted, his anxiousness getting the better of him, making your head shoot up abruptly, surprised at his sudden outburst.

“Uh,” you glanced back down at the page, “I’m at the part where they find out they used to be penpals,” you told him.

“Okay,” Changbin murmured, thinking about where to go from there, momentarily distracted when he’d heard the doorbell ring. Pausing, he’d stepped out momentarily to retrieve your food, the rustling of bags getting louder as he neared the table.

Setting the food down on the table, surprising you when he’d pushed the food towards you, your surprise hadn’t gone unnoticed by Changbin.

“What?” he scoffed.

You shrugged, “nothing, just didn’t know you were capable of doing nice things,” you told him, a sarcastic lilt to your tone.

Changbin inhaled deeply, shooting you a patronizing smile as he broke his chopsticks, “anyway, I think we could start from there, since that’s kind of the turning point of their relationship.”

You nodded, pulling your food towards you as you began to eat.

“I was thinking,” you spoke, pausing to chew on your food, “this part has a lot of unanswered questions, like… I wouldn’t just let it go so easily if I found out someone was my penpal that I grew apart from. I felt like they should’ve had a bit more of a confrontation there.”

Changbin hummed, shocking you when he’d leant closer to you to look at the script, making you push it towards him, a small huff leaving him at your action.

“What questions do you think Penny would ask, then?” he asked you.

“I don’t know, maybe why they stopped talking in the first place?” there was a hint of sarcasm in your tone, making Changbin look at you over his mouthful of noodles.

“I told you already, Soobin grew out of it—”

You grimaced at his answer, your chopsticks halting before your mouth momentarily before you shovelled your noodles in with annoyance, “I don’t believe that.”

“I used to have a penpal, and I can guarantee you, the reason why we stopped talking wasn’t because we ‘grew out of it’,” you told him pointedly, having to stop yourself from growing too riled up about it, Changbin tensing up at your revelation.

Bringing his glass of water to his lips, he let his gaze wander around everything but you as he thought, curious as to what your penpal experience was like. Finally meeting your gaze, he almost sputtered over his water with how much he wasn’t paying attention to his actions, the only thing on his mind being to get his words out.

“You did?” It was pathetic, really, that that was all he’d come up with after such a long pause.

You nodded.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter, the story isn’t based on my penpal, it’s based on yours,” you attempted to draw the attention away from you, unsettling feelings of sourness building within you at the thought of how you left things.

“So, think. What would you be curious about?” you prompted him, seeing him purse his lips, a certain dazed look tinting his gaze.

Swallowing his mouthful of food, he looked at you as he thought. He would want to know if they were still passionate about acting, he would want to know how their family was doing, he would want to know if their personality had changed, if they were still the assertive ‘go after what you want’ character that had encouraged him so much. Or maybe, just how they are.

Changbin’s lips parted, shaking his head slowly, “... so many things,” he murmured.

An unexpected tension fell between the both of you, Changbin’s eyes meeting yours with a sort of unspeakable thoughtfulness, as if he was still thinking about your question.

You broke eye contact first, “write that, then. Who knows? Maybe they’re both as curious as the other.”

“You’re one of those glass half full people, aren’t you?” he huffed, making you click your tongue in annoyance.

“And what? You have no glass at all?” you retorted.

“Would you still be… curious too? Even If it didn’t end well?” he asked suddenly, a stupid question, Changbin thought, but still something he felt compelled to ask in the moment, as if he wanted the confirmation that you, someone with a penpal experience as well had shared the same sentiments as him.

You nodded, “of course I’d be. I could hate you and still be curious about you,” you shrugged.

“Me?” Changbin asked, making your eyes widen, the tension dissipating slightly as you shook your head vigorously, your hands coming up to wave at him dismissively.

“No no, not you. I meant-” you stopped yourself, glaring at him, “I just meant it as an example.”

And for what you were sure was the first time, Changbin had laughed, beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around you, his eyes forming narrow slits and the apples of his cheeks rounding slightly as he grinned, soft breathy giggles leaving him.

“Alright, I get it. It’s not a secret that you don’t like me.”

You huffed, not being able to help but feel the need to reassure him, “you’re not… that bad I guess. Jisung talks you up all the time.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to reassure him that you didn’t have a burning hatred for him, “you’re just stubborn as hell.”

He scoffed, “I could say the same about you.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, reaching over to flip the page, “glad to know we’re on the same page, then.”

“Now that you said it,” Changbin began, moving on quickly from your bickering as he shoved his empty food packaging aside, “I do think Soobin would be curious about the things they talked about in their letters.”

You perked up at that, eyebrows raising, “That reminded me, I actually still have some of the letters from my penpal when we were younger, if you want I can loan them to you for some inspiration or something.”

Changbin nodded, flipping over to another page before pausing to type something on his computer, “yeah, actually that would be useful.”

You continued to look at the script for what had become hours, the both of you deciding it would be easier if you each assumed one of the character’s voices, speaking on behalf of the characters as you discussed. Coming up with a ‘what would soobin/penny do?’ process.

All the while during this discussion, Changbin had been scribbling down in his beaten up journal, the sides of the spine of the book peeling off when he’d set it down on the table, making you grimace.

“Do you think Pe—”

“Why don’t you just get a new journal? This one’s making such a mess,” you blurted out, frowning at the way the little brittle pieces of God knows what material covered his notebook had fallen onto the coffee table, making him tear his gaze away from what he was writing, looking at the mess on the coffee table you were gesturing at and letting out an amused huff.

“Oh, didn’t notice,” he smiled, “but that won’t be necessary, this journal’s been serving me fine.”

“It’s literally falling apart,” you pointed out.

“And you’re literally exaggerating.”

You scoffed.

“I mean, look at it, it’s such a hassle to use, since you have to keep cleaning up whenever you do so much as touch it,” you reasoned, seeing him shake his head.

“I don’t need a new journal, I’m perfectly fine using this one,” he told you, making you scrunch your nose up in distaste, Changbin looking at you with amusement heavily laden in his smile.

It seemed that there was something about the hours of bouncing off ideas and bickering that warmed the both of you up more, not feeling as wound up or hostile towards each other as you did a few hours ago, bonding over a shared want for the short film to be good.

“What?” he asked, leaning back against the sofa and resting his arm on one of the cushions, his other hand grasping his fingers as he awaited your response.

“You sound exactly like my mom,” you had a sour look on your face, continuing, “I bet you’re one of those needs versus wants people.” You huffed in amusement, shifting in your seat as you flipped through the scene you were about to discuss.

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, a breathy huff leaving him, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, “You know, those people that decide on buying things through the concept of needing it or not.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, “yeah, like any other normal person.”

“It’s so boring! Ever heard of the concept of treating yourself?” you huffed, gesturing wildly. You were clearly very passionate about this.

Changbin shook his head, the smile lingering on his face, “I’m starting to understand why you’re Jisung’s friend. Sure, a treat once in a while is understandable, but i’d rather not waste my money on things I could do without.”

You huffed, a deep sigh leaving you, recalling a conversation you had with Binnie about his scooter.

“What’s up with boys and this need versus want thing? My penpal said the same thing even though he was only eight,” you mumbled, a small breath of laughter leaving your lips, leaving Changbin frowning at your statement.

Maybe other kids just talked about the same things he did with Y/N? He brushed the thought aside.

“He did?”

Changbin’s voice came out more hoarse than he’d intended, the intent in his stare making you falter momentarily, forgetting what you were doing just for a second.

Thankfully, you’d snapped out of whatever trance you were in, shaking your head dismissively, “nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

Changbin tilted his head at you, narrowing his eyes as he contemplated whether to pursue it or not, watching closely as you busied yourself with flipping pages just to look busy, even though the inside of your mind was spinning with an indescribable feeling that came with convincing yourself that the drift between you and your penpal was merely circumstantial.

You chewed on your lip, hating the way it felt as though your stomach was churning as you remembered the disappointment you felt when your letters had stopped getting sent through.

You were young, surely you shouldn’t blame yourself, you believed that. Your finger fiddled with the corner of the page, staring at Soobin’s dialogue.

‘Did our conversations even mean anything to you?’ the dialogue read, and you inhaled deeply as your head lifted to look at Changbin, your abrupt movement almost making him flinch in surprise.

“Why did you really stop talking to your penpal?” you sighed, curiosity getting the better of you. Though at this point you weren’t sure if it was curiosity or simply reassurance. Maybe even closure. All of which you needed to satisfy.

Changbin knew you weren’t going to accept his ‘grew out of it’ statement for an answer, deciding to be honest with you, you know, for the sake of the short film.

“I just… stopped hearing from them,” he began, heaving a sigh of his own as he shifted in his seat, picking at the imaginary dust on his sweatpants, “guess they had nothing to say.”

You couldn’t lie about it, you felt relieved. A part of you began to understand why he’d painted Penny’s character out to be like that, or furthermore why Soobin had seemed so affected by the revelation.

“Nothing to say…” you echoed, as if trying to wrap your head around his reasoning as well.

A small huff of amusement left him, though there was a hint of bitterness in his smile.

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know.”

He took his lower lip between his teeth, letting it go and you watched as the blood rushed back into his lips, looking redder than before.

Your eyebrows knit into a frown, “Wouldn’t have minded what?”

Changbin met your gaze, giving you a resigned shrug, “hearing it,” he continued, “nothing, everything.”

You could almost feel your heartbeat slowing down, the tense silence returning in the room and making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Now that was some dialogue.

“Oh,” you broke the silence, your blank expression reading pure shock, your reaction catching Changbin off guard, “write that down, that’s such a Soobin thing to say.”

Changbin couldn’t do anything but laugh, shaking his head at you, “how opportunistic of you,” he teased, though he wrote it down nonetheless.

Maybe you being here was good, Changbin thought, it reminded him not to take himself too seriously sometimes.

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I hope you are not still sad about your friends. I would tell you not to listen to them but i know that’s difficult sometimes because you can hear everything they say. But they were being very mean so they are not nice people. I don’t agree with what they said, because i think you are very nice and you have a nice smile. I don’t think you are scary. Sometimes my mom tells me i should smile more so people think i’m happy but I think you should just smile if you are happy. If you are sad then you can be sad. It is not a bad thing. I’m your friend because you’re nice to me and I like talking to you. If they’re going to be mean to you then they’re not your friends. If they do that to you again you can tell me their address and I will go and tell them myself!

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N

You’d shown up on the filming set on the first day absolutely buzzing from head to toe and ready to go (though, when you told Jisung about how you felt he’d insisted it was because of the lack of substantial sleep and the cans of energy drink you’d both drank the night before while he was helping you prepare your lines), but it seemed that everyone on the set was more tense than ever.

You found Hyunjin huddled with a few of them next to the sound cart, deciding to approach them to ask where Changbin was, having bought a coffee for him along the way.

“Hey,” you called, Hyunjin jumping in shock as he turned, his hand over his heart as he winced at you.

“Why do you move so quietly!” he groaned, making you dismiss him with a wave.

“Did something happen? You guys look stressed,” you took a step towards them, possible reasons fluttering around in your mind but none seeming quite appropriate for the context you were in. Maybe the semester’s GPA results were out?

“Whatever, do you guys know where I can find Changbin?” The boy next to Hyunjin, a freshman by the name of Jeongin had sucked in a sharp breath at your question, making you grow even more confused.

“He’s… a little tense these days, so I’d suggest being a more careful around him,” Chan explained, earning nods of agreement from the film club members.

Your eyebrows raised, confusion showing in a slight pout on your lips. You didn’t remember him behaving out of the ordinary when you’d seen him the day before.

“Where’d he go?”

“He’s over there,” Chan pointed towards where the camera was set up and true enough, you saw Changbin seated at a bench there busying himself with his phone.

Nodding, you’d made your way over to Changbin, discomfort growing within you at the stares you were getting from the club members (some of which you didn’t even know the names of) as you made your way towards the blonde haired boy. It was a wonder why they all avoided him like the plague.

Changbin seemed to have sensed your presence, looking up from his phone and giving you a small wave as you reached the bench, sitting down next to him and holding out his cup of coffee.

Accepting it gratefully, he’d given you a nod.

“Thanks,” he glanced at your hands, “you didn’t get one for yourself?”

You let out a small burst of chuckles, “nope, figured it wasn’t the most logical thing to do since i’m already pretty alert from last night’s energy drinks.”

Changbin sucked in a sharp breath, clicking his tongue in teasing disapproval, “I figured as much, Jisung was way too hyper when I met him at the studio.”

Your expression was sheepish, “I’d say I was sorry but it was... important.”

Changbin huffed, “It’s alright, as long as you’re taking care of yourself.”

Before you could react to his statement, Changbin had acted as though he hadn’t said anything, an amused smile playing at his lips as he tore his gaze away from you, looking forward as he took a sip from his cup, “ready to film today?”

You nodded, regaining your bearings, trying not to think too much of his words.

“Pretty much, you?”

Changbin nodded, “yeah, even though we still have a little bit of the script left, I would say i’m pretty confident.”

You glanced behind Changbin, spotting Hyunjin looking at the both of you with sheer disbelief, making you roll your eyes, turning back to Changbin, angling your body on the bench so you could hug your knees to your chest, looking at him curiously.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded, looking at you with confusion written in his features, clasping his hands around his coffee cup as he rested his hands on his lap, “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe it was just his resting bitch face.

“Smile,” you commanded, nodding your head when he’d looked even more confused.

You watched in amusement as Changbin had laughed, shaking his head before looking at you with an all too sarcastic smile, his hand coming up in a peace sign next to his cheek, a smile unknowingly making its way onto your face at the sight.

“Okay now, don’t smile,” you continued.

Changbin had let his smile fall, looking just the same as he did when you’d shown up, making you press your lips into a firm line, a slight knit in your brows as your eyes narrowed.

Turning his head, he straightened up.

“Cool, Minho’s here,” he said, getting up and holding a hand out to help you up.

“Thanks,” you muttered, not expecting him to turn around and give you a smile.

“Let’s go, Penny.”

It was strange to you that there was something that felt so familiar about his smile, it reminded you of something that made you feel nostalgic. You liked seeing him smile. Changbin had a nice smile.

You brushed the thought away, nodding as you took his hand, letting him help you out.

“What, so you guys don’t hate each other anymore?” Jisung groaned later on that same week when you’d told him about the exchange you had.

He lifted his head from where he lay on your bed, “God, with you guys it’s like everyday’s something different.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in amusement, “well… that’s because it is, isn’t it?”

You spotted the box of letters from your childhood penpal hidden beneath a stack of novels you had yet to unpack, your eyes glistening with triumph as you reached into your storage closet, fishing it out with a grunt.

“Come to think of it, Changbin hasn’t said anything about you since that day you met him to rewrite the script,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Heaving a sigh as you got up from your squat, you closed your closet, “which day? We met up a few times for the script.”

Jisung perked up at that, sitting up slightly and supporting his weight with his elbows.

“You did? Why am I only finding out about this now?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to your desk to set the box onto it, “I told you about it, you just forgot.”

Making your way over to the bed, you flopped down onto your belly next to Jisung, looking at him curiously as he frowned at you. His mention of Changbin had made you curious.

“He… really hasn’t said anything about me?” you dared to ask, regretting it almost immediately when Jisung had taken the opportunity to twist your words.

Jisung’s expression had changed to one that you were all too used to, how his eyes would give away that he was thinking of saying something to tease you, his lips curving into a slight smirk.

“Why? Do you want him to be talking about you?”

You wrinkled your nose, a small panicked scoff leaving you, “yeah, right. Don’t get too carried away there.”

Jisung prodded further, leaning closer to you as he drawled, “well, why not? I mean, you said it yourself, you guys are on pretty good terms now, aren’t you?”

You purse your lips. The film club had been nice enough to give you a month longer to work on the script, you and Changbin ending up getting carried away and doing the whole thing over. And of course, within that month, you interacted with Changbin in some way or another almost everyday.

It could be meetings at his or your apartment, or spontaneous phone calls when one of you thought of an idea and you’d felt inspired to discuss it (even if you were on your bed tucked into your sheets when it happened most of the time), sometimes it was even just simple texts checking up on each other and asking what the other thought about the updates.

Nonetheless, you’d grown used to Changbin’s presence, finding that after that meeting at his house, it was like it had softened the both of you up to each other, especially when you realised your perception of Changbin was all wrong and that really, he was as soft as softies go.

You gave Jisung a shrug, tugging the neckline of your shirt down, feeling as though the room had gotten hotter, “I mean, yeah, I guess. He doesn’t annoy me as much as he used to.”

Jisung let out a chuckle, the laugh bubbling out louder as he continued.

“You know if you tell me you like him now, I won’t make fun of you.”

“You’re lying.”

“So, you do like him?” His grin widened, making you sputter for a better response, figuring you’d dug your own grave with that one.

“Don’t stir shit,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Your reaction had only tickled him even more, clutching his belly as he sighed, “I knew it. Remember? I told you he was your type!” his tone was triumphant, making you regret fuelling his suspicions.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re very happy about that,” you huffed, turning away from him and burying your face in your soft sheets, your hand coming up next to your head to smooth over the fabric.

You felt Jisung’s hand on your arm, his expression grim.

“Wait, so am I really right? You like him?”

You shrugged his hand away, though he hadn’t budged, giving up soon after.

“I mean,” you enjoyed your last moment of peace before you decided to reply to him, “he’s cute, I won’t deny that. And he’s become a lot nicer to me… he’s fun to talk to? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little attracted to him.”

Jisung snickered, “that’s cute, but gross. I can’t believe you like Changbin.”

Trust him to only get that out of whatever you’d just told him.

You turned to give him a wide-eyed look of disbelief, “oh, please, you were the one that kept fluffing him up to me!”

Jisung had simply shrugged, unfazed by your outburst, a small sound of hesitation leaving him.

“I would say I did a minimal amount of fluffing. I just called it before the both of you realised.”

You grit your teeth, “fine, enjoy your moment. But one word about it to Changbin and you’re dead. Got it?”

Jisung’s eyes widened, his hand coming up to mimic zipping up his lips.

“Got it.”

===

“Cut!”

You turned to cast a desperate look to Chan, the said boy looking apologetic as he called for a stop again. You watched as he leant down for Changbin to murmur something in his ear, Chan nodding before making his way over to you and Minho.

“We’re thinking maybe you could try that scene again but maybe with just a little more… in the moment? Maybe try not to rush through it,” Chan suggested to Minho, making the said boy groan.

“Sorry, it’s my fault. It’s just- we’ve been filming for hours, if I wasn’t so scared of Changbin I would’ve—”

“I know,” Chan reassured Minho, giving the both of you a small smile, “hopefully we can get this scene done quickly and then we’ll all be free to go, hmm?”

You nodded, letting Chan make his way back to where the monitor was as you got back into position with Minho.

Changbin watched intently as you and Minho acted out the scene again, something about the way Minho was delivering his lines seeming so unaligned with the picture Changbin had in his head. Was it the lines that weren't doing it for him? Was it because Changbin couldn’t quite tap into the emotions of the character in this scene?

He wasn’t sure what exactly it would look or sound like to be in love, but whatever ‘Soobin’ was showing, sure wasn’t what Changbin wanted it to be.

After you’d finished the scene, the film club members had waited anxiously for Changbin’s greenlight on whether they were free to go, all of them anxiously looking on as Chan went to talk to a few of them at props.

You taken the liberty of making your way over to where Changbin was, seeing him intently monitoring the scene that you’d just shot, the reason behind why he’d made you and Minho run through the same scene 15 times starting to become clear to you.

“That’s not gonna help you make it better, you know?” you spoke, shoving your hands into your pocket and scrunching your eyes shut as you braced against the cool wind that was blowing your way, the trees rustling loudly as Changbin’s head shot up, the frown remaining on his face.

“What?” Changbin figured he came off as a little too annoyed, but he stayed unwavering nonetheless, wanting to know just what you thought you knew about him.

“You know, I watched an interview once, and this actor said something that was so true,” you began, taking a seat next to him, feeling his gaze on you before you continued, your gaze falling on the image of you and Minho on the monitor, “he said that playback makes scenes seem a lot more dissatisfactory.”

Changbin’s frown deepened, “I don’t get it, just spit it out.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile, “I’m trying to give you advice here, okay? As I was saying, be in the moment. Not everything’s gonna turn out like how it is in your head.”

You inhaled deeply, a slight shiver running down your spine at how cold you felt, taking a hand out of your pocket to tap him on the arm.

“Now can you wrap it up and call it a day? The rest of them have been dying to go home but they’re too scared to tell you.”

Changbin hummed, “They are? Why?”

You nodded, seeing Changbin already making to stand up and call for the rest’s attention, with you taking the opportunity to lean over to him and mutter, “Dunno, maybe they just haven’t figured out what a softie you are yet.”

Changbin attempted to press his lips together firmly to contain his smile, though eventually giving up and letting the soft smile be shown on his face as he dismissed the club members, the rest of them already having started shifting their equipment back.

You’d decided to help them shift the equipment while Changbin talked to Chan about something, trying your best to ignore the way the weather seemed to be getting chillier as all the equipment had started feeling cold to the touch. Mental note to start wearing warmer clothes out after today.

“Thanks for convincing Changbin to free us,” Hyunjin sighed when you were coming down the stairs after locking the club room, making you huff.

“He’s not some dictator, you know. You guys could just ask him next time,” you reasoned.

Hyunjin scoffed, “I’d much rather keep my life, thank you very much.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your phone as you thought whether to text Jisung if he’d wanted to meet for dinner.

“You’re so dramatic,” you told Hyunjin, “I told him and I got to keep my life.”

Hyunjin scoffed, “that’s cause he—”

He stopped himself abruptly, eyes widening for a split second before he shrugged, “that’s cause you fight with him all the time, it’s different.”

You saw a text come in.

Changbin 8:14pm - do u wanna go get dinner? I’m done talking to Chan -

“Speak of the devil,” you murmured, erasing your drafted text to Jisung and replying to Changbin to say that you would wait at the quad.

Changbin 8:14pm - i was thinking of eating some cold noodles -

You grimaced at the thought, Hyunjin pulling you out of your thoughts, “are you waiting for Changbin?”

You nodded, sensing his hesitancy to let you wait there alone, “you go ahead, I’ll be fine, he’s already on his way.”

Hyunjin frowned, turning to see Changbin from afar already making his way over, Changbin having spotted the both of you and given Hyunjin a wave.

Waving back, Hyunjin nodded, “alright, I’ll see you.”

Tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, you folded your arms, hoping Changbin would hurry up so you could finally go somewhere with heating.

Though once he’d met up with you, you were a little confused when he’d gone a completely different direction than you’d expected, leading you to a traditional restaurant that served mainly soups and broths instead.

Don’t get me wrong, you were thankful for the warmth of the restaurant, of course, but just a little confused about why he changed his mind.

You let him order for the both of you, looking curiously from where you were seated facing him, leaning back in the wooden chairs as Changbin ordered from the older lady running the shop.

“I thought you wanted to eat cold noodles?” you scanned the menu in search of the item, confusion increasing when you found nothing of the sort.

Changbin shook his head, “figured you might wanna eat something warmer,” he admitted, making your lips part in surprise.

“How’d you know?”

Changbin didn’t know how to explain that it was because he’d kept looking at you during shooting and he didn’t miss the way your hands would clench and unclench the fabric of your clothes, or how you’d fold your arms more and shake them out in between takes when you thought no one was looking.

“… just a wild guess.”

You brushed his comment aside, the both of you talking about your upcoming classes or complaining about readings that had yet to be read, the sheer boiling temperature of the stone pot making heat rush to your cheeks and spread through your body, thankful for Changbin’s wild guess.

Leaning back in your seat with your hands over your stomach, you sighed at how full you were feeling, already anticipating your food coma as you let yourself zone out staring at the label of Changbin’s bottle of soju.

“Are they really scared of me?”

You’d dragged yourself out of your daze (reluctantly), your lips pursing, “sorry, what did you say?”

Changbin averted his gaze, fiddling with his fingers under the table. Smoothing his thumb over the soft skin at his palm, his tongue poking at his canines before he looked back at you, meeting your gaze with a certain determination.

“The film club people,” he repeated, “are they really scared of me?”

You shrugged, “yeah, I guess. Like, they talked about it before… I guess it’s because you have that serious expression on a lot so they might take it the wrong way.”

Observing his expression, his lips had parted, a blank expression on his face, “I have a serious expression?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tilting your head at him, “I think It’s just your resting face. They’re kind of wary of how they act around you during meetings, you know, which is why they had that kind of reaction when I first spoke up about the script.”

Changbin let his grip around his spoon relax, whatever rice he’d scooped into it dispersing into the soup.

“Then why aren’t you scared?”

You almost snorted with how immediate your laughter had bubbled out of you, a bout of chuckles leaving you as your shoulders shook lightly.

“Because,” you waved your spoon slightly, “there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Changbin’s blank expression had prompted you to continue.

“I have no problem with you being assertive about what you want,” you explained, “I mean, if it were my script, i’d probably be equally, if not more, assertive about how I want it. But that’s a good thing about you. You don’t just… shut up if something doesn’t sit right with you. That’s something I’ve always thought was really important.”

Call him crazy, but Changbin couldn’t adequately describe how your words had done more in spreading a giddy warmth in his chest than the food ever could.

He wasn’t always like this. If anything, he’d wanted to say that he’d pushed himself to be more assertive after countless conversations with his penpal about not being afraid to speak up for what you want.

Though he’d always been scared of whether he’d be doing a disservice to the people he worked with if he chose not to speak up, he was glad that you reminded him just why he started doing it in the first place.

Penny’s character in his head had started to look more and more like you. And he was glad.

“You wanna hear something crazy?” You blurted.

You didn’t know where you were going with this. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, really. You just knew that saying what you said to him had triggered a sense of what you could only describe as love within you. If you knew anything about it.

“What?” he asked, the smile on his face making you stop in your tracks. How could he remind you so much of someone, yet seem so much like a mature, upgraded version of them at the same time?

You couldn’t possibly tell him that you were starting to be kind of glad that you didn’t meet Binnie, because you felt like you were looking at him right now. And childhood penpal or not, you were so much more smitten with the one sitting before you.

“Nothing,” you breathed, “nothing, sorry, forget I said anything.”

Your revelation reminded you that you’d brought your old letters from Binnie for Changbin to tap on for inspiration to write the last scene, shutting your mouth and turning to fish the box out of your bag.

“I just remembered, you asked for these right?” you pushed the box towards him, seeing him pick up the box gingerly (as though it were that brittle old notebook he uses), placing it into his bag.

“I’m assuming they’re the letters from your old penpal?”

You nodded, “but don’t laugh when you read them, okay? He was really nice to me.”

Changbin huffed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, “yeah, yeah, no promises.”

After you were done with your dinner (Changbin paying for it as a supposed ‘thank you’ for being patient during filming), you’d prepared yourself to fight against the cold night breeze as you stepped out of the restaurant before Changbin, not having expected to feel a warm weight being draped over your shoulders.

“I don’t know why you decided to come out without a coat when you know now’s usually when the weather gets colder,” he tutted his tongue, feigning disapproval, not giving you any time to be shocked at his gesture.

He stood in front of you, tugging the coat tighter around you as he met your gaze, giving you a tired smile.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”

You bit down on your lip, your racing heart and panic making the best reply you could come up with to be a mere, “didn’t peg you to be so gentlemanly.”

To which Changbin shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“I can be pretty romantic if I want.”

You were gonna get whiplash at this rate.

That same night (or day, 3am was a fine line), you’d received an email from Changbin of the last scene for the film, reading through it and having to stop in between for breaths and water breaks because you had no idea Changbin was capable of encompassing such romantic sentiments in a scene.

Looking at what he wrote, you would never have thought he was the same person that kept arguing with you about happy endings going to shit.

Changbin had written the scene in a burst of inspiration, having felt an almost uncomfortably foreign giddiness within him after returning home from your dinner, feeling even more motivated when he’d watched the film footage they’d shot earlier that day (unconsciously rewinding more than once to watch you act) deciding to just go with whatever he was feeling and write down the scene he had in mind.

And if anyone was asking, no, he totally didn’t picture you as Penny and himself as Soobin the entire time while doing so.

By the time you were done, it was almost an hour later, the aftermath of reading his scene making you pick your phone up and send him a text.

4:02am - did something happen? What’s with the lovey dovey script? Did someone finally change their mind about Penny? -

Not long after, Changbin’s reply came in, feeling thankful that he’d only decided to open your box of letters, or more accurately his letters, after he was done with the scene, something about what he found putting him in an all too thoughtful mood.

Changbin 4:04am -let’s just say... i took your advice-

===

“What do you think, Changbin?” Chan’s voice had snapped Changbin out of his daze, the latter looking at Jisung with a shrug.

“I would say you’re just short changing yourself if you didn’t talk to her. I mean, you said you liked her, right? So what are you waiting for?” Changbin sounded almost impatient, his tone eliciting a grunt from Jisung.

“Yeah, you say it like you’re not the one hiding your hopeless crush on Y/N.”

Chan’s eyes widened, not having expected Jisung to say it so blatantly.

Changbin sputtered, looking at Chan for help only to be met with giggles.

“I’m sorry, dude, it was really quite easy to tell.”

Changbin wanted the cushioned booth to swallow him whole, scrunching his eyes tightly shut in a wince.

“Whatever, that’s not the point,” he waved Jisung off dismissively, “we’re talking about your love life here.”

Jisung pursed his lips, shaking his head, “it’s not fun anymore, I wanna talk about yours.”

Changbin glared at Jisung, “i’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Good, ‘cause you should be having it with Y/N.”

Chan raised an eyebrow at the younger boy, humming in suspicion.

“Why do you sound like you know things...”

Jisung shrugged, raising his hands to give a dramatic shrug, “Do I? I guess we’ll never find out since Changbin ‘isn’t gonna have this conversation with me’.”

Chan turned to Changbin, who currently looked as though he would rather die than be here right now, “actually, what are you waiting for?”

Changbin brought a hand up to massage his fingers on his temples, a resigned sigh leaving him.

“I don’t know, I’ll probably not do anything until the showcase. I still don’t know how exactly I wanna go about it.”

Jisung snickered, “you’ll be fine, seriously.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll just enjoy whatever time I have left to think about it till the showcase. Now back to your issue… ”

But obviously, Changbin didn’t use his 3 days of buffer time very well.

He was lucky the atmosphere of the showcase and the unexpected crowd of people had prolonged the time until he’d be in a situation where he’d feel compelled to talk to you about it. Whatever it was.

You hadn’t noticed, obviously, the way Changbin had been keeping himself busy talking to guests and teachers that had shown up, people from the media and publications club. You were too busy being whisked away by your own friends and a already slightly tipsy Minho who thought it was a good idea to pregame drinks before the afterparty later on.

It’d only been when things started calming down and people were actually watching the film that you’d been put in a position where you had no choice other than to think about the boy seated in front of you tapping his foot incessantly on the carpeted floor of the auditorium.

Once the show was over, you’d leant forward, about to congratulate him when you’d both been whisked up by one of the teachers-in-charge, pulling you together with Minho onto the stage to answer questions from the audience.

The questions were fairly simple, most of them from the media and publications club trying to get technical details for their article, allowing you to zone out from where you stood on the stage, letting Changbin smoothly answer all the questions they could possibly throw at him. It wasn’t like Minho was in any position to answer them, tipsy and zoned out of his mind.

It was only when you’d heard him fumbling around with his words that you looked up from the spot on the wall you were staring at, turning to look at Changbin with an embarrassing amount of concern on your features.

“I’m sorry can you repeat the question?” you’d spoken into the microphone, hearing someone that sounded almost identical to Jisung asking how he got inspiration from the story.

You looked at Changbin curiously, as if silently asking if he needed you to step in, only to have him look at you with a blank expression, his mouth opening and closing as he fumbled for an answer.

“Oh, well, I’m sure I can answer this on behalf of Changbin,” you began, “we’d worked on the script together, and it was inspired by a lot of things, like our experiences with pen pals as well as movies like ‘you’ve got mail’.”

Changbin’s shoulders slumped with relief, nodding towards you as a silent thanks, the moment cut short when you were once again whisked away into different crowds to take pictures or to carpool to the afterparty.

Though you were bored 10 minutes into the party, Minho having gotten drunk before you could even get past your second drink, you’d let Changbin have his fun. You figured it was a good thing that he was being recognized for his efforts, even if he didn’t look like he was enjoying the attention very much. He needed it, you supposed, to be forced to see how much people enjoyed the work he made.

But you didn’t stay to see it too long, adjourning to the porch of whoever’s house you were in to enjoy an environment away from the loud music and too many people you didn’t know.

“Already bored?”

You’d jumped at the sound of Changbin’s voice, his footsteps loud against the wooden porch as he took a seat next to you on the swing, holding out his bottle of soda to you, “do you want some?”

You shook your head, seeing him shrug, “suit yourself, then.” He took a long sip of his soda, sighing afterwards.

A tired smile on your face, you let out a deep sigh, “didn’t expect you to find me here so quickly.”

“How could I not?” he laughed, shaking his head, “In case you didn’t notice, I was suffocating in there, figured I deserve a break.”

“Good job, though, I’d say you handled everything well…” you started, your smile growing, “... though there is one thing… I didn’t think you were the type to struggle with public speaking.”

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, scoffing, “shut up, I don’t usually.”

“Sure, you don’t,” you teased, bringing your hands to your sides to support your weight, letting your legs lift off the ground as Changbin used his feet to move the swing gently.

You leant back in your seat, enjoying the silence you were able to get out here as compared to the chaos going on within the house, noticing how tense Changbin seemed, his posture anything but relaxed as he’d let out sigh after sigh, tapping his rings against the seat of the bench absently.

“Relax,” you chuckled, “it’s already over.”

Doing the opposite of relaxing, Changbin simply stopped moving the swing, angling his body to face you more as he fished in his blazer pocket for something, pulling out an envelope from his jacket, “I have uh… something for you.”

Holding it out for you to take, your gaze fell on the colourful envelope, the little strawberry stickers you remembered using your savings to buy as you frowned at the address written on the envelope in your old messy ‘princess handwriting’.

Your gaze darted from the envelope back to him, “how did you… how do you have this?”

“I have it,” he began, letting out yet another sigh, “because you sent it to me.”

If it could, your heart would’ve stopped in that exact moment.

“Read it,” he prompted when you’d stayed silent, your hands moving urgently to open the envelope, your heart feeling warm when you pulled the paper out, already being able to see the ‘To: Binnie’ written with your favourite scented marker.

To: Binnie

How are you? I’m fine. I am writing this very late in the night because I finished my rehearsal for my school play in the evening and I just finished taking a bath. I have to be quick or my mom is gonna scold me for not sleeping yet. I wanted to tell you that you should sign up for the competition. Which is why I have to mail this to you A.S.A.P as possible because you said the sign up closes in a few days. I think that you should just try it out, even if you don’t do well. Because then at least you can say that you gave it a try and you had fun. I saw this on a tv show, and they said if you don’t try, you will never know if it will turn out well, because you didn’t try.

So I’m telling you to try!!!!! Just try your best and have fun. I think you will do well.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

“So this is me… trying… it. Whatever it is,” he sounded out of breath, almost, and your heart had begun to pick up speed at how it seemed as though this would be the time where he would confess his feelings to you (if Soobin and Penny were any guide to go by).

You should’ve known Changbin better by now, though.

“Thank you… for helping me with the film. You know, for giving me crap about it because I know that that wasn’t really what I felt. I was just… bitter, but for some reason, you giving me shit about it kind of reminded me why I liked being friends with my penpal- or, I guess, liked being friends with you, so much in the first place.” he was looking at you more confidently now, straightening up as he continued.

“It wasn’t because you gave me fake money to buy a scooter, or anything,” he laughed, “it was more because you were someone that was friends with me for who I was? You were kind, and you were honest.”

Changbin fiddled with the envelope in his hands as you tried your best to contain your smile.

“And you were especially supportive, you know, in your own argumentative way.”

You let out a huff of breathy laughter at that, your hand coming up to touch your necklace, finding something else to fiddle with to contain your anxiousness.

“I’m glad, though, that I didn’t know you were that Y/N,” he told you, “because I already grew to like this Y/N so much, that… finding out was just… a pleasant surprise.”

For the first time since you saw the letter, you’d spoken, a breathy, “me too,” leaving you, embarrassing you to no end.

“I’m glad it was you,” you murmured, averting your gaze, not having expected Changbin to have reached out a hand towards yours, hovering just momentarily before making the decisive action of grasping it gently.

“Me too.”

“So are you gonna explain why my letters—”

“Shh,” he shut his eyes, the smile on his face making you give in almost instantly, “don’t ruin it.”

===

“I didn’t know people even still sent letters these days,” Jisung snorted, sipping on his coffee that he’d just gone downstairs to buy, “here, you have one, but there's no name.”

You frowned, picking it up and finding the handwriting of your address awfully familiar, feeling as though you’d definitely seen it scribbled on a specific brittle old notebook before.

You flopped onto your bed, opening the letter as Jisung resumed playing whatever game he was busy with on your desktop computer.

Thankful for the distraction, you’d quickly unfolded it, scrunching your nose at his choice of pen name.

To: my penpal Y/N

This letter may just be over a decade overdue, but I wanted to firstly say I’m sorry for making you wait so long. That letter about my film competition, that was the last one I received from you, and one of my favourites. I figured it out, by the way, I gave you the wrong address. Phonics was a very tricky thing for my eight year old stubborn self that refused to cross check with my mom.

I figured sending you a letter was best, you know, since you know I'm not the very best at public speaking, or just speaking in general sometimes, I doubt I'd be able to say as eloquently what I wanted to say to you in this letter.

I wanted to give you a few updates. Firstly, I met someone in my film club. Well, technically I auditioned them for my short film so there’s no one to blame for the trouble they caused other than me. I didn’t like them that much at the beginning. I thought they were just trying to impose their stupid happily ever after beliefs on me, someone who thought I was a big bad cynical bitter man that didn’t believe in love stories.

As you probably guessed, they challenged me (a lot), and waiting to see them started to feel like the days where I would wait to hear my mom tell me that a letter came in for me, even better actually. They reminded me of the qualities in myself that I was always afraid of showing, and they reminded me what was so good about being unapologetic for who I was sometimes, because they accepted all of that, (but not without giving me an shit about it first, of course).

But i’m thankful, I’m thankful because I really grew to like them a lot. I liked how I could be comfortable being myself around her, and I liked how they would support me when I needed it, but also to correct me when I need to be corrected.

They were real, and I liked that, a lot.

So, the point of this was that if they ever happen to receive this, you know, (because I totally didn’t know your current address, obviously), I hope they know that I’ve grown to like them very much, to like the personality that i’ve come to know, and that i’m very excited to grow to know (and like) even more.

I’ll be seeing you, Binnie.

#changbin #seo changbin #seo changbin au #changbin au #changbin fluff #skz changbin #skz au #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids fluff #enemies-to-lovers!changbin #on track #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #I love changbin

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dreamii-yume · 4 years ago

Text

New Episode Update Let’s GOO!!!

Warning : This is just Yume having a mental breakdown, seriously. This episode update was WHACK.

~ MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 68-75 ~

I know we ain’t participating and all but the game reminding you that there’s 10 minutes left to prepare is seriously bad for my heart.

Aah, shiet. Vil is still hurt.

He still has small wounds and scratches that he hid make up. Daddy, I’m worried.

Apparently, yeah, I’m not the only one cause my homeboy, Epel just asked to switch the center role with Vil. THE CONFIDENCE.

Aw, he’s worried about him falling over during stage (And make the performance look bad) Come on, Epel just be honest-

...He finally became the ideal poisoned apple that Vil wanted, huh?

Vil being proud a mom.

But the queen inside him is STRONG.

He’ll embrace the villain in him, OUR QUEEN CAN STILL GO. INJURED, WHO?

...AAND he proceeds to roast Epel again lol Typical Vil.

I love how Epel just accepted a nickname like “Doku Ringo-chan” lol It’s so cute, senior-junior relationship goals right there.

HERE WE GO.

Everyone is actually really confident hahaha

I really wish Deuce’s mom, Ace’s brother, Jamil’s sister, and Vil’s dad were here in person to watch.

HECK I WANT KALIM’S WHOLE FAMILY HERE WHY NOT

T-THEY’RE REALLY LETTING US HEAR THE FULL SONG.

IS THAT JAMIL RAPPING.

Look at Jamil’s solo SD dancing. LOOK AT IT.

I really fucking love Vil’s singing voice aaa

HIS VOICE IS SO GOOD.

Album when disney.

Is Vil okay.

...aight im hearing some high quality panting here

...dont mind me listening to it a bit too much...

...they’re going to be great reference for some spicy- leave me alone

Vil panting is making me feel SOMETHING.

ANYWAY. THE CROWD IS A MOOD.

IS VIL OKAY.

Unmei no megami is giving me idia ptsd here.

Heartslabyul Senpais are watching their kids, looking all proud *sniff

Oh god, after playing Obey Me, it just occurred to me how similar Cater and Asmodeus’ voices are...

Watch these Senpai dorks act like Ace and Deuce’s second family. Trey being the dad, Riddle being the mom, and Cater being the supportive big bro. It’s so beautiful.

Riddle’s voice is a lot more softer now, I just realized...It’s so soothing...

God i miss u too octavinelle never change

Yeah, why tf did Floyd not audition for this

Bro, can you imagine Nobuhiko Okamoto in the squad as well??? IMAGINE-

Of course, he wasn’t in the mood back then. Of course. Why did i even ask.

IMAGINE FLOYD BEING IN VDC NEXT YEAR.

Omg i miss u too octavinelle never change

Azul’s gonna overblot again with Floyd’s marketing skills lol

Jade coming in like welp i guess thats that. Too bad, huh Azul?

GOD i miss u too octavinelle never change

SAVANA BITCHES HI

I wonder if these mfs knew that Vil just overblotted and malmal was the one who fixed the stage lol

oooh Leona’s sus about something he a sharp boi

Speak up my guy—

still so weird leona taking his job seriously

Malleus looking happier seeing this performance rather than Lilia’s lol

I miss the simpery in Sebek

Silver’s not in the verge of falling into a coma for once wow

Chenya’s so cute.

AND WE’RE BACK TO CUTE HEIGH HO TEAM

fcking shotacons man...im not one to talk

Aw, they didn’t show Neige performance...

The simping in the crowd is a MASSIVE mood.

WHO WINS TELL ME

These night raven fuckers better vote for us and not pull a “oh shie my hand slipped lololol” i swear to god- im gonna throw hands

*me holding my phone and pretending to vote as well

Suspense music intensifies be like-

HAAA

BOIS, ITS ONE VOTE DIFFERENCE WHO IS IT AAAA

WHAT.

HOW DARE- HOW!? HOW DID WE LOSE!?

WE LOST BY ONE VOTE!?

EVERYONE’S SO SHOCKED LOL

vil pls dont overblot again-

Noooo grim’s tuna cans-

WE REALLY LOST TO A LEGIT KIDS SONG.

These children do not have the right to be this cute. I wanna take Timmy, Toby, and Shelpie home.

I swear to god one of these dwarves sounds like Cheka lol Is it Toby?

EPEEELLLL DONT CRRYYYY

KALIMMMM DONT CRRYYYY

KALIM HAVING THE AUDACITY TO SOUNDING LIKE A BIG BROTHER AND THEN CRYING HIS OWN RIGHT AFTER LOLOLOL

I HATE THIS EPISODE YALL MADE MY TWO BOIS CRY IM FIGHTING THIS EPISODE. BURN THIS.

This background music too though im deeeeddd

KALIM IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING A SINFIC ABOUT YOU PLS DONT CRY-

Jamil impressed about Vil being “calm” and Vil just going “h e h. you dont even know.”

....ha...

Monsieur Rook. WHAT did you say.

ROOK VOTED FOR ROYAL SWORD. Are you kidding me. You snek how could you- i loved you

WHAT DID I SAY- Ya’ll night raven fuckers shall not slip by their fingers when voting rook.

Vil is in the brink of passing out aaaaa

I have never heard Ace this pissed before whoa- lol he sounds like Deuce in his delinquent mode

Aw...Rook felt that Neige’s performance carries a stronger bond than theirs :’( it’s hard to put the blame on him when he’s saying all these stuff

It’s just like what they said in the past episodes that it’s really hard voting for your own team when you know the opposing team is better.

Aww...He just wanted Vil to believe in himself more...Rook is such a best man. Im crying-

Oh noooo is Vil gonna cry too nooo- daddy turned to baby really quick SOMEONE GIVE HIM AN EMERGENCY HUG

Well- at least...at least the 100 year record of not being able to win is still going, yeah? Um...bad joke? Sorry, i’ll see myself out-

NEIGE NOT NOW AND YOUR VII-KUN BULLSHIT- we’re having a moment here

Neige is such sweetheart but aaaahh— This makes it worse, we can’t even hate him aaa—

OMG JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THINGS COULDN’T- AAAAA

MONSIEUR ROOK. YOU’RE A FAN OF NEIGE!?

MOTHERFUCKER just got exposed by Neige himself lol

Going to Neige’s shake hand events, sending him letters, buying all his merch and shie- HE’S A FULL BLOWN NEIGE STAN

WTF YOU SNEK GET OUT OF THIS SCHOOL-

OOOOHHH THAT FUCKING ALBUM- HIS “LIFE’S WORK” or whatever bullshit IS FULL OF NEIGE

...actually- my japanese is lacking- im not sure lol what is a ブロマイド??? Lol I feel like a clown.

Rook is sweating profusely LOL

...what do you have to say for yourself, monsieur rook.

Wait- huh is that-

IS HE GONNA CRY-

WHY IS EVERYONE CRYING!??!?!?!

HE’S SILENTLY CRYING AS HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF TO NEIGE WHAT. THE. FUCK IS THIS EPISODE.

Neige fanclub??? Eternal Snow??? What kind of creepy-ass- OH, HE EVEN HAS A MEMBERSHIP NUMBER TOO-

Props to Neige with his :) expression unfaltering.

I’m- I’m speechless.

Vil is just looking down at Rook in disappointment like- “you’re more pathetic than I am”

Queen just went “I think you need this handkerchief more than I do now” THAT’S RIGHT. REPENT MOTHERFUCKER.

Rook crying is cursed.

But damn, I’m kinda liking this new relationship this bitchy relationship they have

Neige just dragged everyone’s ass back on stage and his snow white energy just said “LETS ALL BE FRIENDS AND SING”

NEIGE IS FUCKING GREAT- HE REALLY DID GOT THESE BITCHES TO SING HEIGH HO LOL

ACE’S RELUCTANT SINGING AND DEUCE LOOKING LIKE HE’S HAVING FUN

KALIM IS SUCH A MOOD, SINGING EVEN WITHOUT KNOWING THE LYRICS AND JAMIL JUST HAVING THAT “i want to die” ENERGY

AIGHT. ROOK IS HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN AND EPEL IS TRYING HIS BEST. HE’S SO CUTE-

OMG NEIGE AND VIL HAVING SUCH GOOD HARMONY—

YAHOO Y A H O O TANOSHIINDA~~

YA’LL SURE ABOUT GIVING ME THIS BLESSED MOMENT??

What a somewhat happy ending, even though Rook just backstabbed us I’m crying Beauté 100 points!!!

LOL Vil realizing he’s having fun singing with Neige- “SOMEONE JUST END ME RIGHT NOW-“ The desperation in his voice-

I love how Neige’s yahoo yahoo is messing with everyone’s head, even Vil wants to pass out lol

haha Crowley is so depressed lol

WHA- WHO-

HEADMASTER OF ROYAL SWORD!?

He looks like your typical grandpa- and his outfit looks like that one mickey mouse wizard outfit but blue—

Old man just went “we won lol” just to piss Crowley off I like this guy’s energy already-

Crowley being most likely as old as this guy—

ooohh this man just sensed something in this stage- Leona did too, didn’t he???

* Damn. Crowley talking so fast sounds like he’s making a load of bullshit lol

Anyway, I’m just glad that it’s not mickey mouse who’s the headmaster— I would’ve lost my shit.

We’re back in our dorms and I forgot that the squad doesn’t live with us anymore. It’s suddenly so lonely now...

Grim is getting the yahoo yahoo ptsd too lol it’s too goddamn catchy

oooohh shiet- mickey is calling us again

YES we finally got a good picture of this motherfucker

It seems like nothing is disrupting our communication this time, so MC thought to call Grim but—

Grim is not here.

Uuhhh...Grim? Where you’ve gone??? We’re getting flashbacks of the first parts of the game.

We went out to find Grim and HE’S CHOMPING ON ANOTHER BLACK STONE ON THE STAGE-

GRIM SPIT THAT OUT YOU LOOK TERRIFYING

AAAAAHH GRIM HAS GONE FERAL— He’s attacking US

Is this because we didn’t win his tuna canss nooo

NoOO SWEET BABY COME BACK.

Legit I’m sad, please baby don’t overblot like this...

He learned a new move though- SCRATCH

Ooh— We’re seeing some Ignihyde scenes here~

P U H I H I

Idia getting a lot of emails from bigshot companies whoa—

THAT OLYMPUS—?! EXCUSE ME??? Ortho what- Are we finally getting that Hercules episode—

Damn getting a hot chance in olympus only to put them down the recycling bin oof— Idia why edit : Yume was informed that olympus is kind of a company that sponsored VDC sorry she was mind-fucked at this moment and the ability to understand proper Japanese just went whoosh lol Thanks to @starshiningsirius for pointing it out for Yume~ ♥︎ HONESTLY YUME’S JUST GONNA WAIT FOR ACTUAL PROFESSIONAL TRANSLATORS AT THIS POINT LOL Don’t trust me for important situation too much lol

Aaaahh...We’re getting this shut-in out of his room in the next episode, are we?

And that concludes the whole Pomefiore Episode! JESUS CHRIST 75 CHAPTERS ALL IN ALL!? How long is the Ignihyde chapter going to be, huh!?

This was a really, really fun episode lol I’d consider this a fan service episode actually cause of all the things we get to experience— The singing, dancing, and the new songs, THE DRAMA. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

But then, the plot thickens, no? What’s going to happen to Grim? In the Ignihyde episode? And those reoccurring memories of us? And our relationship with Tsunotarou lol ALSO WE NEVER REALLY DID FIND OUT WHAT ROOK’S UNIQUE MAGIC IS. DISNEY EXPLAIN—

Thanks for reading this shitpost of Yume losing her shiet lol See you all in the Ignihyde Episode~ ❤

#twisted wonderland #spoilers #episode 5 #Talk with Yume

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sparklingpax · 4 years ago

Text

TFP Group Chat Stories - Autobots (#2)

The more popular request was for me to do another one of these, this time with the Autobots; here goes! I’ll be doing that rlly cool Decepticon idea sometime soon as well tho dw ;) Thanks y’all! ^^’’

So I’d like to note that after much talk, Optimus has at last dropped his habit of making an email out of every text, but still refuses to text casually 😹😹

Also also! The humans have their own groupchat (the kids) which I may or may not do a chat thing for as well ^w^’’ But this gc is for “all Autobots,” so the humans are a part of this one as well~

Except for Agent Fowler because he adamantly refused and was not swayed on that verdict.

Ah, so with that aside, hopefully I can at least make you smile :’D

Enjoy! <3

🔥✨🚑 *Tragic Hero Noises* 🚚✨🔥

Matrix-Bearer: Good afternoon, Autobots. I have been given lengthy instruction as to how this “group-chat” is supposed to function. You may thank the human children for our....suitable chat name. I have started this “group-chat” so we may better communicate as a team, coordinate plans, and altogether bond more deeply. I pray this marks the beginning of a new era in the midst of this bleak war, and that this shall bring a greater hope and chance for success against the Decepticons. Thank you, and please follow the rules posted on the fridge. Optimus out.

DestinysBoi:

_Wrench_Wrath_: SMOKESCREEN FOR THE LOVE OF PRIMUS

_Wrench_Wrath_: Thank you, Optimus, but a speech was not necessary. Just text normally, like we talked about ok?

MikoMikoNii:

DestinysBoi: @ MikoMikoNii you get me ;)

MikoMikoNii: BRO OFC ;))

DestinysBoi: *finger guns*

Its_Jack_: it’s bee two minutes and this chat is already cursed

Its_Jack: @ Whizkid @ Cee_HowULikeMe_Now help me out please

Bumbleowo: Hes studying for a test! Sorry if we mute you for now ^~^’’

_Wrench_Wrath_ : What material is he going over, Bumblebee?

DestinysBoi: oop ok then

MikoMikoNii: Later Bee!! Tell Raf I said good luck!!

Bumbleowo: Will do! :)

Its_Jack: oh shoot my mom wants me for chores bye!

MikoMikoNii: later chump~

Its_Jack: and you wonder Why I never like being part of your groupchats

MikoMikoNii: U_U

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: wHO PINGED ME IM BUSY

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: OH NO JACK MY CAPS LOCK IS STUCK I’M NOT MAD SORRY

_Wrench_Wrath_ : Can someone answer my question??

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: I’M SORRY I PROMISE I’M NOT MAD

BladesandGrenades: lol

MikoMikoNii: OOF

DestinysBoi: Rip 😔👊🔥

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

DestinysBoi: only old people get their caps lock stuck 😂😂

MikoMikoNii: oo bulkhead should see this 🤣 @ Gentle-Giant get your metal hide over here!!!

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: OK NOW IM A LITTLE MAD 🤬🔥

DestinysBoi: 😳😳😳

BladesandGrenades: our definitions of “a little” seem to be at odds

_Wrench_Wrath_: WHY ISNT ANYONE ANSWERING ME??!!1!

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: Oh hey awesome I got my regular keyboard back! I’m still mad though 🙃

MikoMikoNii: think happy things arcee!! 😳

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: No 🙃💙

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: You have five minutes smokescreen 🙃🙃

DestinysBoi: wait why me??!

BladesandGrenades: Oh that reminds me; @ _Wrench_Wrath_ just an fyi, bulky broke his tablet again so hes gonna need a lil help

Shoulderpads: Wheeljack, all of you, it is not professional to use improper grammar and punctuation in any form of communication. Take that to your private chats please.

BladesandGrenades: lol

BladesandGrenades: how bout

BladesandGrenades: shove it up your tailpipe ;)

_Wrench_Wrath_: HE DID WHAT

_Wrench_Wrath_: PRIMUS GIVE ME PATIENCE I BEG OF YOU

Matrix-Bearer: Ratchet, I understand you are upset. Could you perhaps calm down? You are scaring certain residents of this base.

_Wrench_Wrath_: YOU KNOW WHAT. IM TOO OLD FOR THIS SCRAP.

< _Wrench_Wrath_ has left the chat >

BladesandGrenades: Well then

MikoMikoNii: OOF WOAH

DestinysBoi: u think hes coming back??

MikoMikoNii: Nah

BladesandGrenades: nope lol

BladesandGrenades: and ig @ Shoulderpads decided to actually shove it up his tailpipe ;) mission accomplished

DestinysBoi: ...ahah o///o’‘

DestinysBoi: Wouldnt be too sure of that one Jackie..

BladesandGrenades: wh

MikoMikoNii: 🙊😳

BladesandGrenades: Whats going on what happening

Matrix-Bearer: Good afternoon, all. This announcement pertains only to one of you. Wheeljack, please take a moment to head to Ultra Magnus’s quarters. He is requesting your assistance in the matter of....something involving his ship and something in its tailpipes. He informed me that the matter is urgent and requires immediate assistance. Thank you kindly. Signed, Optimus.

MikoMikoNii: guess

MikoMikoNii: guess you’ll be the one shoving it

BladesandGrenades: frag this mf

BladesandGrenades: k boss I’ll be there in a sec

DestinysBoi: lmao nice one Miko 😂😎🔥

Bumbleowo: Hey everyone! What’d we miss?

Whizkid: Hello, Optimus! Thank you for the kind greeting! I hope this chat can be utilized for good as well! :) Thanks for letting me join!!

Matrix-Bearer: Hell, Rafael!

Matrix-Bearer: I...I meant ‘hello.’

MikoMikoNii: HOLY SCRAP

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: oh wow Optimus woah--

MikoMikoNii: I SJSDHD IM CRIGN

DestinysBoi: Guys dont be so mean :( hes just expressing the reality of what this chat actually is :))

WhizKid: I--

Bumbleowo: lololol oh wow 😅😂

MikoMikoNii:

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: ok smokescreen I,,I actually have to agree with you on this one--

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: Youre off the hook

DestinysBoi: thank you, my queen 😭😭

Cee_HowULikeMe_Now: 🙂

Matrix-Bearer: Apologies for the sheer informalities in this message, however I must express my deepest regrets for even starting this chat.

Matrix-Bearer: I’m beginning to think this was a mistake.

MikoMikoNii: YOU GOT THAT RIGHT 😎👊🔥

DestinysBoi:

Matrix-Bearer: I...have never before felt such fear for my life...

Shoulderpads: What in the good name of Primus is wrong with you people?? What is that? Why is it so....unnerving?

MikoMikoNii: 👌

///

And so that’s that! Sorry it took so long!! I was busy and it got stuck in my drafts for much longer than intended! But I hope there arent too many mistakes or anything, and I hope you could at least find it interesting, if not funny ^^’’

I enjoyed making this one too~

Lmk if you want me to do some more! Drop ideas! I’ll most likely be doing a Decepticon one next if I do another~

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Take You to Heaven (And I'll Show You All Around It), 1/2 (Rosenali) - Mattels

summary: rosé is sure the woman who orders coffee under a different name every morning is trying to fuck with her (not, as jan put it, trying to fuck her.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601828/chapters/72762987#workskin

It’s a Monday and Rosé feels like death.

She’s sure she looks it too, if she’s being honest. She woke up early– like five-o’clock-sky-still-dark early– nursing a spectacular hangover and then promptly rolled out of bed to throw up in her and Lagoona’s shared bathroom. She has a killer bruise on her shin from God knows what last night, and her head is still fucking killing her despite the off-brand Advil Crystal had handed her, whilst pretending she wasn’t laughing at her state.

Don’t let Lagoona convince you to go out on a Sunday, she thinks to herself, rubbing her under eyes to find pieces of glitter stubbornly clinging to her skin.

“Are you okay, hun?” Gigi asks her when she arrives at her job in their seemingly perpetually-empty café, arranging delicate cakes in the fluorescently lit pastry case.

Rosé groans slightly in response, lowering her forehead to rest on the cool metal of the cash register.

Gigi laughs, “and remind me again why you decided clubbing on a Sunday was okay…?”

“Fucking ‘Goona.”

She barks another laugh at this, reaching behind her for a pile of croissants Jackie had baked earlier. “Getting old?”

Rosé lifts her head to glare at Gigi, who, of fucking course, looks perfect as ever. Her ginger hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail, bangs neatly straightened into uniformity. Gigi is easily one of the prettiest girls Rosé’s ever seen, even in their decidedly unfashionable company-branded aprons. She only works at the café part-time, spending the rest of it at one of the best fashion schools in the city; her designs are always executed with excruciatingly minute details, Rosé knows she wouldn’t have the patience for.

“We open in ten, girls!” Jaida calls from the back, where she counts inventory with Jackie on her heels, writing everything down neatly in a notebook.

“Geege, are you nearly done?” Crystal, who’s wiping down tables at the front with disinfectant, asks. “Can you help me with chairs?” She asks when Gigi responds with an affirmative.

Gigi wanders around to the front of the shop, planting a chaste kiss on Crystal’s cheek when she passes her to grab the chairs stacked in the back. Rosé mimes stuffing her fingers down her throat with an exaggerated gag to Jan, who’s refilling bottles of flavoured syrup behind the espresso machine.

“Fucking ew,” Jan says rolling her eyes in mock-disgust to Rosé. “You hear that guys?” She says loudly, and Gigi and Crystal both turn to look at her, “your love is fucking disgusting.”

Crystal laughs loudly, tipping her head back so Rosé can see into her mouth. “Okay homophobe, whatever you say.”

Jan rolls her eyes, flipping the pair of girls off, who both laugh lightly. “First of all, Crystal Elizabeth, I’ve slept with more women than you have fingers, so fuck off, thank you very much.”

Crystal coughs loudly, which sounds suspiciously like dry spell, leaning over to Gigi and planting a kiss ending with a resonant smack, snickering when Gigi blows an equally obnoxious kiss in Jan and Rosé’s direction.

“This is a workplace, sluts!” Rosé sighs, “if I have to clean ass prints off those tables one more fucking time, I’m sending HR a very strongly worded email!”

Crystal roars with laughter at a red-faced Gigi, who ducks her head and tries to bury herself into Crystal’s shoulder. “It was one time!” She squeaks.

“And that’s one time too many,” Jan says with a pointed look at Crystal, who gives her a shit-eating grin in return.

Crystal holds her hands up in mock-surrender, “sorry mom.”

Rosé cracks a smile at Jan’s outraged face, busying herself with filling a plastic cup with tap water to avoid being on the end of Crystal’s razor sharp tongue. Her head throbs as she downs the liquid, filling it up again as she swallows.

She checks the time on her phone, cursing under her breath when she realises they open in two minutes. Already she can see a woman standing outside their glass doors, clearly waiting for Jaida to flip their sign to Open.

“Opening up!” Jaida calls, coming out of their back storage room to open their door.

Rosé shoots Jan a look that screams help me I’m going to kill myself, to which Jan chuckles, moving over so Gigi can dart behind the bar and work their espresso machine.

The woman walks in, bell tinkling as the door pushes open, a pair of dark sunglasses obscuring her features. Rosé plasters on her best I’m approachable, please give me a tip! smile, flashing her perfectly straight teeth, (thank you, several years of braces).

The woman doesn’t stop to look at their neatly displayed array of pastries, instead parking herself straight in front of Rosé.

“Hiya, what can I get for you?”

The woman flips her glasses so they perch on the top of her head, and Rosé feels like she’s taken a punch to her stomach.

She’s unbelievably beautiful, even with slightly messy eyeliner and already smudged lipgloss. Her icy blonde hair is french braided loosely, and is curved over one shoulder. When she politely smiles at Rosé, twin dimples are embedded into her tan cheeks.

“Good morning,” she says with a smile. “Could I get a medium americano to go, please?”

Rosé can’t stop her nose from wrinkling at the thought of black coffee. Ew, she thinks to herself, grabbing a takeaway cup from the stack to her left.

“What? Not good?” The woman cocks a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her.

Rosé looks up at her, in surprise. “Huh? Oh, shit, no, no, I just–”

“–Oh no, you’re good honey, I’m only joking!”

Rosé can feel the tips of her ears burning red at the pet name, a tiny thrill running up her spine. “Can I get a name?”

“Julie,” she says with another smile, the dimples in her cheeks making Rosé’s palms slightly clammy, as she grips the thick marker to write the name in her loopy handwriting.

The woman pays, thanking Rosé and going to stand by the pick-up point to wait for the drink Gigi makes way too quickly, leaving before Rosé can snap out of her daze.

“Julie,” she murmurs under her breath when their door swings shut.

Jan turns to her with a grin, “alright there Rosie? Looking a little flushed, doll.”

Rosé rolls her eyes, pulling her phone out of her pocket, opening the camera to use as a mirror. Her stomach drops; she looks just as bad as she feels, she realises with a loud groan.

“Are you kidding me?” She groans to Jan, “I just met the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, and I look like this?”

Jan shrugs, leaning against the counter behind her. “You went about as pink as your hair too, so…”

“Fucks sake.” She swears, running her fingers through her greasy pink roots. She’d sprayed dry shampoo in it this morning, when she couldn’t be bothered with washing and blow-drying it, but clearly it hadn’t much helped the situation.

She stares at her image in the camera, trying to wipe the already-flaking mascara from her lower lash line. It could be worse, she thinks to herself, at least she didn’t try and blend out last-night’s makeup again.

“Babe, I think that’s not gonna help.” Gigi says, watching as she tries to fix her appearance.

“Shove off, little miss perfect,” Rosé all but growls, irritation running high. Her head is still pounding, despite being momentarily distracted by the pretty woman.

Gigi pretends to busy herself, dusting non-existent coffee grounds from her pristine work surface. She’s smart, Rosé begrudgingly admits, knows when not to push it. The same, however, can’t be said for Jan, who’s already texting Jan about it on their Stephanie’s Child groupchat.

goona: bahaha sorry rosie <3

goona: defo my fault shouldn’t have dragged u out last night babes

“Can you not?” She whines at Jan, “this is so embarrassing!”

Jan shrugs, “it’s so funny though.” She teases, mimicking Rosé’s drawn out inflections. “It’s fine, Rosie, she’s bound to come back at some point.”

“Will she?”

Jan stands, leaning over Rosé to pick up their tip-jar just in front of the register. “She left a nice tip.” She says, pulling out the ten dollar bill. “That’s pretty hefty for a three dollar coffee,” she notes, putting the jar back down. “Must be for our impeccable service.” She says, flashing a teasing grin at Rosé, who groans again, dropping her head in embarrassment.

☆☆☆☆☆

Rosé can’t pretend she isn’t a little surprised when the woman appears again at the same time the next morning.

Jan nudges her in the ribs as she walks in, laughing a little at Rosé’s whisper to fuck off, please and thank you. But she says it with a smile, happily remembering how even her winged liner came out this morning, and makes sure to smooth any fly-aways from her curled ponytail.

She’s sure to give her the best smile she can muster for seven in the morning, butterflies happily swarming in her stomach, as the woman approaches her.

“Hiya,” she says, pretending not to have remembered her from the day before.

Her hair is down today, falling prettily in soft waves around her face. “Good morning,” she smiles; it’s all white teeth and dimples. “Could I get a medium americano to go?”

Rosé nods, grabbing a medium cup, “can I get a name?” She asks, despite already writing Julie on the cup.

“Naomi,” she says.

Rosé’s brow furrows slightly in confusion, staring at the cup she’s already written on. “Naomi?” She cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the woman to correct herself.

She nods, “N-A-O-M-I.”

She reaches for another cup, writing Naomi on it, instead of the expected Julie. The woman pays with a smile, and Rosé is still too confused to notice the wad of dollar notes she slides into their tip jar.

Gigi makes the coffee, what feels like much too quickly again, and Rosé finds herself watching the door shut after the woman.

“I thought you said her name was Julie?” Jan asks when she leaves.

☆☆☆☆☆

By the end of the third week, Rosé’s figured it out. It was, in large part, thanks to Jan, rolling her eyes and telling Rosé how it was oh so clearly a game, Rosie, followed by both Crystal and Gigi’s insistence that she’s flirting with you!

She’s cycled through Kristen and Tracy and Laura and Rebecca and Violet, introducing herself as a new person every morning. Rosé started having a medium cup at the ready every morning, marker poised to scrawl whatever name she picks for the day.

“So,” Gigi says in the late afternoon, leaning her head against Rosé’s shoulder. “When are you gonna ask her?”

Rosé turns her head to look at her, “ask her what?”

Jan, who’s cleaning their blender, sighs loudly, putting her cloth into the sink and looks over at them. “Her name, dipshit.”

Rosé shrugs noncommittally, “I like our dynamic.” She lies. She doesn’t want to admit how flustered she makes her– the butterflies at the pit of her stomach have only seemed to multiply, taking flight even at the mere thought of her bleached hair.

Rosé never considered herself to be anything less than straightforward; she’s never had any sort of problem coaxing pretty women in bars to come home with her, and she’s definitely never had any trouble telling them exactly how to curl their fingers inside her to make her see stars. But The Woman, as they’ve dubbed her with a capital T and W, makes Rosé feel like she’s a middle-schooler, desperately trying to hide her first crush from everyone.

“I’m just saying maybe you could… y’know…” Gigi starts.

“I could what?”

“Get some pussy?” Jan suggests with a laugh, “Lagoona says it’s been a while.”

Rosé blushes high in her cheeks, “Lagoona doesn’t know shit.” She lies again, thinking back to the last girl she brought back with her seemingly months ago.

Jan arches an eyebrow at her, but doesn’t say anything, choosing to turn back to her sink instead.

“How’s school?” Rosé asks Gigi, trying to casually change the subject whilst opening their register and grabbing a sticky note to note down their cash.

Gigi starts a long spiralling story about her midterms and the designs she’s trying to get Crystal to model for her, interjecting her speech with explanations of her school’s system of grading, coupled with descriptions of their intense assignments. It makes Rosé’s head spin, and for once she’s glad to have finished at her theatre school a handful of years ago.

Somewhere during Gigi’s tirade, the bell at the door goes off, welcoming in a new customer, unbeknownst to Rosé, until someone is awkwardly clearing their throat in front of them.

“Hi, sorry, how can I–” She stops mid sentence when she realises it’s her. “Oh, it’s you,” she says with a laugh that’s much too breathy. Calm down, she tells herself in an attempt to stop her palms from sweating.

“It’s me,” The Woman says with a smile.

“You’re not usually– erm, it’s, uh, afternoon, and you’re usually, uh, y’know, morning.”

“Yeah,” she laughs, “I know. I just, er… wanted a coffee.”

“So, uh, what can I get for you?” She asks, already reaching for the medium takeaway cup.

“Can I get an americano? Having here?”

“Oh,” Rosé puts back the takeaway cup, “yeah of course. Can I get a name?”

She smiles, and Rosé wants to drown in her dimples, “Karen.”

Rosé snorts as she plugs in the name on the order, “Karen huh?”

The Woman gasps loudly in a mock-protest, placing a delicate hand over her chest in disbelief. “You don’t think I could be a Karen?”

Rosé grins, letting her eyes pass over her once. No fucking way was she a Karen of any sort. “So sorry ma’am, let me grab my manager for you,” she says with her eyes twinkling, beginning to turn around in an act of looking for Jaida.

“Denali.”

She spins back around on her heels, eyebrows raised quizzically. “Sorry?”

“That’s my name,” The Woman smiles softly,, “Denali.”

“Denali? Like the mountain?”

“Like the mountain.” She looks at Rosé, “why don’t you ever wear one of those, uh, nametags?” Rosé looks down at her apron with a shrug. “Y’know,” Denali continues, with a shy smile, “so I’d know the name of the pretty girl who takes my shitty coffee order every morning.”

Rosé’s face burns red– she can practically feel it radiating heat. Pretty girl. It reverberates around in her skull, making her feel a little dizzy for a second. “Rosé.” She stammers out, waiting a beat too long to reply. “It’s Rosé.”

“Like the wine?”

"Like the wine.” She confirms with a smile, her face still as pink as her bubblegum hair.

“Two dollars right?” Rosé looks at her dumbly, “like, erm, for the coffee?”

“It’s on the house!” Jan says over her shoulder, shooting a shit-eating in Rosé’s direction.

“Oh! Uh, are you sure?”

Rosé nods awkwardly, and Denali responds with a thank you so much , before wandering off to find a seat in the fairly empty café.

Denali. Rosé lets herself roll around the sound in her mouth for a second like it’s a caramel. Denahlee, she thinks to herself, stretching each syllable like taffy. She thinks it might be the sweetest sound she’s heard in a while. If she leans forwards, she can see her (Denali, she thinks to herself, Denali) sitting up on their bar that faces the window, a book held open in front of her.

Jan sidles up to her side with a knowing smile. “You’re welcome Rosie.”

“For giving her a free coffee so we get no commission?” Rosé jokes, trying to play it cool even though her heart is still beating like she’s just run a marathon.

“She clearly came in to see you, dumbass,” Jan says with a smile, watching Gigi click the grounds-filled portafilter into the basket.

“She told you her real name!” Gigi adds as they wait for the espresso shot to fill. “That’s, like, something, y’know.”

“She called you pretty!” Crystal reminds her from the pastry case she’s doing a half-hearted job of rearranging.

Rosé sighs, “okay guys, I really don’t need this whole peanut-gallery thing– can you please get your big noses out of my life.”

“Oh puh-lease, not a chance diva!” Jan says, already typing furiously on her phone.

Rosé feels her own phone buzz in her pocket, pulling it out to read the handful of texts Jan’s already sent to Jan through their groupchat. She groans at Jan, who gives her a nonchalant shrug in response.

“Do you want to take it to her?” Gigi asks as she pushes the steaming coffee mug towards her.

“Please just fucking take it to her, Rosie.” Jan whines. “Let me live vicariously through your love life!”

Rosé laughs, rolling her eyes as she picks up the saucer the mug is on, careful not to touch the hot ceramic. She walks it over to Denali, putting it down in front of her with a smile. Denali thanks her with a grin, turning back to her book and letting Rosé sulk back to her job, trying to come up with witty conversation starters in her head.

☆☆☆☆☆

Denali sits in the café for a half hour before she gets up again to order another americano from Rosé.

“Can I get one of those little cake things too?” She asks, pointing at a miniature cake Jackie had neatly piped pink rosettes onto. Crystal pulls it out of the case onto a plate for Rosé to pass to her. “How much?” She says pulling out a wallet from her bag.

“On the house,” Rosé says, offering her a smile.

“No, c’mon, you have to let me pay for something–”

“–It’s fine, it’s on the house–”

“–I feel like I have to give you something,” she opens her wallet, “please?”

“You could give her your number,” Jan pipes up from the back with a laugh.

Rosé doesn’t believe in God, but if she did, right now would be just the time to pray for the ground beneath her feet to split open and swallow her up. Please God, just take me.

“Do you have a napkin?” Denali asks, snapping Rosé out of her momentary prayer. “And, like, a pen?” When Rosé doesn’t move to get one, Denali gives her a look that Rosé is sure is asking her if she’s hard of hearing. “For, uh, my number…?” She trails off, looking a little embarrassed.

Rosé’s mouth goes completely dry, and her hands reach for a napkin and a pen on their own accord. Before she knows it, Denali’s handing it back to her, a phone number written on it in chicken-scratch handwriting.

“Maybe you could take me out sometime?” She says with a laugh bubbling in the back of her throat, throwing Rosé a playful wink. “Thanks for the coffee, gorge.”

Rosé’s heartwhiz-bangs in her chest, and she’s sure she’s gone to heaven.

#rpdr fanfiction #rosé #denali foxx #jan sport #gigi goode #crystal methyd #rosnali #fluff #meet cute #lesbian au #take you to heaven #mattels #submission

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seokiloquy · 4 years ago

Text

Cross the Pacific - Sugawara & Oikawa

AU: Regular (Breakup + New boo)

Requested

Tags: GN!Reader, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of alcohol, time skip spoilers, and a lot of implied happenings

Word Count: 6k+

The gym was loud, constantly being filled with the screams of boys running around the meshed fabric as they sent balls flying in every direction. Maybe a crude description despite your knowledge of the sport, but you thought it was fitting as you watched from the sidelines next to the silver setter with a bruised knuckle.

The volleyball player winced, as you slowly moved the joint. You looked up to his panting figure, watching as he took back a large gulp of iced water with his head tilted back. A small bead of sweat trickled down the length of his neck, racing down to meet the collar of his white shirt, now turned a translucent grey in some spots from absorbing sweat off of his neck and face. You handed him a small towel, warmth dancing along your cheeks like pin needles, eager to hide the view from your sight.

With nimble fingers, you wrapped the swollen digit gently with medical tape, attaching it to the one next to it. “Koushi,” you sighed. “You’re meant to set the ball, not jab your finger into it.”

“I know, I know. I just messed up,” he laughed, giving his taped fingers a little wiggle as he removed them from your grip. “Have you heard anything from the universities yet?”

You shook your head, kissing your teeth to make a small tsk escape you as you packed up your small medkit. “Nothing. Those places don’t deserve me anyway, I’ve got bigger things coming my way. I just know it.” Despite your bravado, you could feel the small shake in your chest.

Koushi sent you a big grin, giving you a silent boost of confidence, before standing up. “You finished with the Med-club, right? I hope I didn’t pull you out too early.”

“We finished up early today, so don’t worry.” With a big swing of your bag, you got to your feet. “I’m gonna head home, okay?”

“(L/N)!” You heard Hinata call from the other end of the gym. “Come join us and play for a bit! Your boyfriend can teach you some more!” He bargained, desperately hoping you could stay longer in case a ball found his nose to be an attractive place to slam into. Though, he would never say that out loud, too prideful and easily picked on for that.

“No can do, Hinata,” you laughed, making him pout and let his shoulders fall with the weight of his arms. You turned to look at Koushi again, enjoying the practice of looking into the dark olive-green colour of his eyes.

“Do you want me to walk you? It’s getting kind of late,” he asked following your footsteps to the metal doors, ignoring the yells of his younger teammates calling for him to return.

You zipped up your large coat, preparing for the cold outside that would surely try to bite at any uncovered skin. Rising onto your toes, you pecked the small mole that delicately sat next to his eye. “I’ll be fine, Koushi,” You replied, stepping out onto the concrete stairs. “Love you.”

“Love you too, get home safe.”

Your breath wavered as you opened the email that waited in your inbox.

It was early in the morning, maybe around 6 am, the rest of your family was still asleep and you were quivering in your desk chair trying to build up the courage of opening the blasted email that waited in your inbox. Your mouth felt grimy, still sour from just waking up. You grimaced, wincing at the sunlight that decided to peek out from behind the clouds and pierce your eyes.

Weaving your fingers together, you brought the bridge of your nose, right between the brow, to rest against them. You took in a deep breath, feeling your heart trying to rip it’s way out through your sternum. This moment could be the beginning or end of your career.

As you moved the cursor to sit above the email, you spared a glance at the delicately hung photo on the wall behind your monitor. The tape had held on strong for the last couple of years. Koushi told you that ‘it wouldn’t last’ when you first stuck it up. The clear tape hasn’t given up yet. Your mom thinks it’s a good omen. You just think she spends too much time looking at horoscopes on Facebook. Either way, you thought it was a good sign.

Huffing out a shaky breath, you looked back at the hidden message and clicked it open.

The first line, then the next, then you skipped over the rest, not needing to see much more than that.

You pushed out of your chair, nearly falling to the floor of your bedroom because of your shaking knees. The fluid in your head seemed to splash up against the side of your skull and your stomach clenched in on itself, suddenly in need of food. The floor seemed much more welcoming now than a moment ago.

Softly, you dropped to your knees and let your body flatten against the cool hardwood floor. You breathed deeply, letting the cold air calm your nerves and slow down the rushing blood in your veins. You smiled, pushing your nose into the plush carpet at the foot of your bed.

“I did it. I fucking did it.”

In the hours it took for your parents to wake up, you were at your computer. The steps you had to follow were simple enough. Contact your guidance counsellor, fill in a few documents, and finally, say yes. Your hands shook the entire time.

You were in the kitchen, chugging back a large glass of water when you told your mom. She nearly broke your glass in the process of yanking you into a bone-crushing hug that made you choke.

“(Y/N). Argentina, are you kidding? You better not be lying to me or else I’m gonna cry.”

“You’re already crying. Now please, I can’t breathe here.”

She reluctantly drops her hands, turning toward the refrigerator to pull out a small tupperware container filled with leftovers you didn’t know you had. “So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Well, I have a few months before I leave. But I’m gonna search for an apartment, see if there are any part-time jobs I can apply for to get some extra money, apply for a Visa. I’ll even do some language courses before I go. I—”

“(Y/N),” she interjected, taking a seat at the kitchen counter. “What about Koushi?”

You paused, letting the cold air run over your shoulders as the sudden realization of the situation made itself known at the front of your mind. “Oh, right. Well, I only plan to be there for a year, then I can come back and do university here right? Koushi will get it, he’ll understand.”

He did not understand.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You said you were going to go to Miyagi U.”

Maybe your timing was wrong. It probably would have been better to tell him after his volleyball practice when he was tired. You bounced on your toes excitedly, letting out a tiny whine as you waited for him to slow the sound of his rattling to a stop.

“I said I would apply, and I did. But unlike you, Mr. Smarty Pants, I haven’t heard from them, but I have heard from that apprenticeship in San Juan. And I want to go.”

It was cold out, the late-February wind decided today would be perfect for freezing winds. You shivered in your coat, desperately wanting to join the rest of his team inside the warm gym. You kicked your feet in the dusty snow of the ground.

Koushi shut his eyes tightly, making his nose scrunch as he bit his lip. Twitching fingers moved against his arms before finding home in his elbows. He sighed. “But what’s wrong with staying here?”

You jumped. “Nothing, Koushi. You know there’s nothing wrong here, you must know that. It’s not like I’ll be gone forever. Just a year to get some experience, and then I’ll be back before you know it.” Your voice seemed to shake, and you desperately hoped it was from the cold.

He exhaled slowly, head down and eyes staring between the metal doors of the boy’s gym. His voice was dulled, flattened, so tired. He didn’t meet your gaze, letting you stare at his silver hair for a couple of unbearable seconds.

“Koushi, aren’t you happy for me?”

“I am happy for you, (Y/N),” he said, continuing to stare through the doors. “I just— I’ll talk to you later.”

You watched silently as he walked up the concrete steps of the gym. The burning in your chest grew as he began to push the door further open, not sparing a glance over his shoulder.

“I love you, Koushi.”

There was no response as the doors shut behind him.

“Daichi,” you panted out from the gym doorway. “Is he gone?”

The following weeks until the end of the school year left radio silence between you and Koushi. You never found him in the hallways, or his classrooms before lunch, he even seemed to leave volleyball practice before club times were over. If hurt less than you thought it would, but the ‘later’ he referred to that day seemed to never come.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he replied, dropping his gaze to the wood floor.

The sad stares of the boy’s volleyball team dug into your skin like dull knives. Your feet suddenly seemed a lot more interesting of a sight.

You sighed, “Don’t apologize. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

That walk home felt worse than the last.

You wanted nothing more to slump into your bed, ignoring the final assignments that you still had neglected to hand in. Before you on the computer’s monitor was one of these assignments, slowly printing out as you dug your forehead into the hardwood of your desk. With closed eyes, you listened to the whirring of the machine as the loose pieces of paper slowly poured out of the machine. Something fell onto the table. A small, stiff object that seemed to flutter before hitting the hard table.

Lifting your head you looked up to your wall. Right there. You held your breath as you looked at the lonely piece of tape that stuck to the wall. Quickly rising to your feet, your eye darted to the surface of your desk below the offending tack on the wall. Facedown, in a pile of wires that trailed to your computer, was the photograph. You delicately picked up the polaroid, inspecting the bent corner.

Sighing, you ran to your closet, pulling out an old brown box from the top shelf and throwing it onto your bed.

The next couple of hours were filled with frustrated groans and rustling of clothes as they were torn off their racks and into the dusty box. Various photos and decorations were torn off your walls and added to the sad pile with one last sigh. You ripped the necklace that sat at the collar bone of your neck, wrapping it around the small polaroid and setting it on top of the boxed pile.

You could feel your throat clamp closed as you tried to breathe in slowly. The sleeves of your sweater felt ruff against your puffy eyes. You choked.

“(Y/N), is something wrong?” Your mom peaked in through the crack in the doors opening, brows pinching together.

A cold breath escaped your tired lungs as you turned to face her. “Ya, everything’s fine. Hey, could you maybe help me book my flight?”

The corners of her lips were still pulled downwards, concern evident, but she tried her best to give you a happy smile. It just couldn’t reach her eyes. “Of course.”

Cloaked in black, you watched your graduating class pour out of the school doors in waves, each one happily carrying their protected diplomas in the palm of their hands. You gave them smiles as they walked by. From the driver's seat, your mom watched you through an open window, occasionally looking back to read the diploma in her hands.

“Are you sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?” She asked, poking her head out.

You gripped the sides of the box tighter. “I may not want to, but I haven’t been given a choice in the matter.”

She let out a sad sigh, “There’s always a choice.”

“Not this time. Sugawara hasn’t given me the luxury.”

For him to walk out of the school doors with a bright smile of his face was a punch to the face, breaking your nose. The trio of boys laughed happily as they swung their diploma filled hands in the air. Your knees shook as you waited for them to come closer to the exit.

You don’t know who saw you first, but within a matter of seconds, your mother pulled the car up the road and you were face to face with the silver-haired boy.

Swallowing the frog in your throat, you pushed the heavy old box into his chest, smudging a bit of dust onto his black uniform.

“What’s all this?” he asked, raising a brow teasingly.

You tried not to scoff, “It’s not a present if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Propping it onto his knee, Sugawara flipped up the lid of the box, peering inside. His brow changed, pushing to meet in the center of his face. Dropping the lid, he continued to hold the fuddled expression as he looked at you. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“More like finalizing what you started,” you pushed out quietly.

“(Y/N), please, you can’t just—”

“Just what?” you asked, pushing yourself to speak louder as you met his eyes. “Just cut you off after not seeing you for weeks? I didn’t even know if your injury healed!” you stopped, breathing slowly as you tried your best to calm the vibrating nerves in your body. “I don’t know what you were expecting, but if it wasn’t this, you’re an imbecile.”

He tipped the box open again, taking hold of something from the top. “I didn’t think—”

“Obviously,” you huffed hastily. “Look, I’ve got to go. I have somewhere to be.” You stepped back slowly, suddenly finding the view of your mom’s car much more interesting.

The space between you felt larger than it has been in weeks despite being only an arm's reach away. You breathed in deeply. You spun on your heel, turning to the old car, only to be stopped by the dusty box pressing into your stomach as Sugawara rushed to block off your path.

“Where are you going? We still need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing more to say. Now please, I need to go.” You tried to walk around, but he quickly sidestepped in your way.

“Where?”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I have a plane to catch.”

He pushed forward, head falling over the box as he tried to get closer. “A plane? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“How was I supposed to, huh?” you screeched. “I saw no hide nor hair from you for weeks, and you expect me to tell you I’m leaving when you’re the one that was purposefully avoiding me?!”

You could feel the stares of your school mates as they slowly walked past like traffic around a car accident. The anger that was bubbling in your stomach was overflowing so much that you thought you were going to puke. Despite everything in your body telling you not to, you continued.

“You just ghosted me, even worse, you cut me off. Not once did you try to reach out, or talk to me, you never told me your qualms or worries. I would’ve listened.” The tears that poured down your face only stung the wound more. “But, you didn’t tell me anything. So I’m leaving. You have no say in that anymore, not now.”

“(Y/N), I—”

“Bye, Sugawara.”

This time, as you bent your body around his to continue down the sidewalk, he didn’t stop you.

Once in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, you pushed your head back into the plush seat and closed your eyes, letting all the air in your lungs slowly roll off your tongue. The blood in your head throbbed loudly, making your ears hurt. You pushed back the seat, lying as flat as you could with the suitcases that were propped behind it. A sniffle escaped.

Foot pressing on the gas, your mom gave you a pitiful look from the corner of her eye, before shooting her gaze back to the road as she has been for the past number of stifling minutes. Reaching over, she knocked your arm off of your eyes. “I know, I know. But you can sleep on the plane,” she paused for a moment, “How are you feeling?”

You swallowed harshly, “Like a demon decided to make home in my brain and eats its way to my heart.” Turning your head you gave your mom a sad grin, “I’m naming it Baloo.”

She laughed.

Economy seating, though often cramped, wasn’t so bad if you weren’t in front of a crying kid, or next to someone who’s body odour overpowered the strength altitude had on your senses. Luckily, you got neither of them. Instead next to you sat a boy who didn’t pack his headset in his carryon.

You desperately wanted to sleep off all the sourness and pain in your eyes, but the gentle sound coming out of his computer kept you awake. Through narrowed eyes, you shifted your head to watch his frozen profile stare into the bright screen in front of him and the video that played quietly among the silent passengers.

His sweater was a dull, soft yellow, colour faded after years of being worn casually. His fingers held the ends of the sleeves, covering the palms of his hands. He didn’t blink, eyes shot frozen in a wide position, letting in as much light as possible

“I hate to interrupt, but don’t you think you should sleep at some point?” you whispered near his shoulder.

His warm brown eyes turned to meet your suspicious gaze with a shocked expression pulling at the edges, his lips pursed together. “If I sleep now, I’ll be sleeping throughout the day in Argentina. Did I wake you? I can turn it down if you’d like.”

You shook your head, arching off the plush chair to let your elbow push into the armrest between you, accidentally bumping shoulders along the way. “It’s alright,” you said, rubbing the long since dried tears from your eyes, “couldn’t sleep anyway. Is that the San Juan team?” You asked, nodding your head in the direction of the video playing on his laptop.

“Oh, ya. It is,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “Do you know anything about volleyball?” he asked, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead.

You nodded keeping your eyes trained on the setters that stood in the center of the plays. “I know more than I’d like to admit.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excitement pouring through his words. “Well, I’m trying out for their team, so I want to see how they play a bit more before the tryout.” He turned to face you. “You look surprised.”

“Huh, oh,” you laughed, trying not to bite your lip. “It’s just an unlikely coincidence.”

He gave you a teasing smirk, pushing his elbow to rest behind yours on the plastic armrest. “How so?”

You gulped, tempted to lean away from his curious posture. The words escaped you in a hesitant but excited nature, “I just so happen to have an apprenticeship with their medical team.”

A large smile broke out onto his cheeks, nearly letting his words fall out in a tumbling yell. “Really? Then we’ll be seeing each other a lot more then. That’s awesome.”

“If you get on the team.”

He scoffed, “Oh, I’ll get on. Just watch me.”

“Then you’ll be getting injured a lot, I presume.”

The 24-hour plane ride continued smoothly. Filled with small, excited conversations in between and slightly awkward awakens on the other’s shoulder after short naps. All while suspended in the air over a large body of water.

Talks about your schools and friends ran smoothly until he brought up the discoloured skin around your eyes. But, despite your apprehension, he safely maneuvered around the topic, not letting your conversation slip into an uneasy, awkward, silence. The food was tasteless, but filling, giving you both a laugh and another conversation starter, which he listened to intently, watching you ramble over how the altitude changes your ability to smell and taste. And you reciprocated when the topic of family came up and he took the opportunity to gush over his young nephew. It was nice. Very nice.

“Do you have an apartment set up near the sports centre?” he asked with a loud yawn, as you stood next to each other in the crowd, waiting for your luggage to slowly slide onto the conveyor belt. He brushed his gently swooping hair back.

You blinked slowly, desperately trying to not rub your tired eye sockets as you pulled one of your suitcases off the moving machine before it ran away. “I, ugh, was sort of in a rush to get out of Miyagi. I sort of overlooked finding a place to live,” you let out a sad, self-deprecating chortle. “I fucked up, I’m a fuck up. Fuck. I’ll just live on a park bench.”

Your new friend let out a sharp and heavy laugh, relying on his blue suitcase to carry his weight.

“You can stop laughing, I’m being serious.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I already have an apartment waiting to accommodate my tired ass. You can stay with me. We can live more frugally. You only plan on being here for a year right?”

You sighed, giving in and using the back of your wrist to rub your eyes. “That was the plan. But,” you paused, looking at the contact information on our suitcase for a moment. “I’m not sure if I have much to go back to now.”

You could feel the combination of heartache and exhaustion weighing down on our shoulder after hours not being able to cope with your new relationship status. A yawn tore its way out of you.

“Well,” He began. “Maybe, you’ll find something to stay for. Now come on,” He said, offering you a cluttered elbow to hook your bag covered arm into, “We’ve got an apartment to fill.”

Sugawara sat in the center of his small on-campus residence flipping through the various textbooks that stacked on top of each other across his small desk. His head pounded at the temples as he searched for a key sticky note he had left somewhere in the many pages. The old box laid untouched at the end of his dorm bed next to Sawamura, who for once, seemed uncaring of his friend’s personal space.

“What are you gonna do with all this stuff anyway?” he asked, lifting one of Sugawara’s worn out sweaters from the pile.

“Well, half of it was originally mine, so I guess I need to keep it. But can you not go through that stuff, I can’t stand to look at it,” the leaner, stressed man snapped over his shoulder at his friend who worked on folding the wrinkled clothes that he pulled from the offending box.

Sawamura sighed, “Dude. I hate to say it, but it’s been months. You’re going to have to face it eventually, and the best way to start is to go through this box.” With a satisfied huff, he dropped it onto the floor.

“Daichi,” Sugawara drawled, spinning in his chair, swinging an arm over the back, to look at the cardboard on the floor. “(Y/N)’s going to be stuck here with me forever, I can’t change that. How am I supposed to just toss it away? I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Sawamura dragged his fingernails over his scalp, looking up at his long time friend from his haunched position. He wanted to look away as soon as the words came out of his mouth, not bearing the sight of his torn friend’s expression. “Koushi,” he said. “You already have.”

“Oikawa, one of these days you’re going to get a knee replacement I swear.”

The setter rested along the length of the black faux-leather couch that was pushed against the wall of your living room, leg propped up on a large pillow as he scrolled through the various cable networks that played Spanish soap operas more often than the news. He let out a childish whine, followed by a laugh.

“It won’t ever come to that, (Y/N). After all,” he sent you a flirtatious smile. “You’re my personal doctor.”

You scoffed, dropping a fresh ice pack onto his knee, making him yelp at the sudden temperature change. “I’m not your personal anything dumbass.”

“Are you sure about that?” he dropped the remote onto the short table next to him, finally settling on a show that had English subtitles running along the bottom of the large screen attached to the wall.

“You’re right. I’m your babysitter,” you teased, hopping away from the couch toward the kitchen.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to follow you toward the marble counters.

“No Moving, Oikawa!”

Huffing, he crossed his arms and fell back onto the couch, pouting up to the tv. You watched his childish tantrum fizzle out as you filled up two glasses with water. It was hot out. The both of you were in loose shorts and t-shirts, desperate to get as much heat off your bodies as possible. Oikawa waited for you to come back with the cold peace offering before speaking again.

“When are you gonna call me ‘Tooru’? I want to hear you say it before you leave Argentina and go back to Japan. Can’t you grant me that wish?” he pleaded, nursing his cold glass in the palms of his hands, before setting it on the table next to yours.

You settled into the open space his feet left at the end of the plush couch, trying not to shift his injured leg too much. He responded to your silence by kicking his other leg over your lap, making you look at him, unamused. He prodded for an answer.

A sigh escaped you involuntarily as you stared off into the white wall of your shared apartment. “What if,” you pondered, breathing in slowly with a quiet voice. “What if I don’t leave? What would you want then?”

Months turned nearly a year of living together and working in close quarters had somehow turned the most wretched day of your life into a jumble of colours you could never begin to describe. Months of thinking about your next steps, reflecting over past mistakes, and dreaming of the possibilities of what could lay open, uncovered in the white wall of this apartment. You didn’t know what you were going to do come the date of your planned return to Japan, but you did know what you wanted here.

You slowly turned your dazed eyes over to the injured setter that sat next to you, the earnest emotion in his eyes rolled into you, not letting you look away or blink.

His hand came to wrap around your arm as he shifted as close as he could without bending his knee. The hand then slowly trailed down to hold yours. He never broke eye contact for even a second. Your free hand came to grip the hem of his shirt tightly, knuckles brushing over the taut skin above his hip bone.

“If you decided to stay, would you let me be a little selfish?” His voice was barely over a whisper, breath smoothly mingling with your own. So gentle that it would have been difficult to hear over the tv if you were even an inch farther away.

“Tooru—”

“What?!” the younger man screamed, grabbing the attention of the other diners that were eating in the small bar/restaurant. Making them all glare at his copperhead for interrupting their meals.

“Four years and you’re as loud as ever. Would you calm down for once? Yes, okay? I am, we are,” Oikawa huffed, waving the younger man down as he desperately tried the more than spiteful looks that were sent their way.

“I haven’t seen (L/N) in forever. I didn’t think I’d see them again.”

The two men sat in a small seaside restaurant with a view of the beach right outside the large open windows, both tired from a day of playing in the sand with a couple of competitive strangers. The city was still alive hours after the sun had set. People were out at parties, drinking wine in fancy restaurants, or dancing to music that blared over the loudspeakers in the more populated streets.

Hinata slowly lowered himself back into the wooden chair, hopping slightly to get it tucked underneath the table again. With raised brows and pinched lips, the carrot top shifted his elbows onto either side of his near-empty plate, watching with wrapped attention as Oikawa took a bite from the large steak that sat on the porcelain platter.

“Well, since you're in Brazil, why don’t you join? We can probably even sneak in a game at the beach afterwards,” he said with a hand over his mouth as he chewed away at the juicy slab of meat. “We just can’t let (Y/N) know.”

“Are you sure you want me there?” Hinata asked as he set his glass of water down. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“It’s gonna be a small event and reception, so there won’t be a lot of people, and you’ll meet my teammates. Besides,” Oikawa gave the eager volleyball player a gentle smile. “I think it would be nice for both of us to have another old friend around.”

“Everyone’s gonna be speaking Spanish and English though,” Hinata slumped into his chair, grimace pulling at the edge of his lips. “I can understand some English, sure, but who would I talk to? The two of you will be busy the whole time.”

Oikawa spun the last bit of water in his glass slowly. “Don’t worry about that, our families are flying in and so is Iwaizumi. So there will be more than a few Japanese speakers there.”

Hinata sat straighter in his seat, shoulder pushing up to his ears as a large smile pulled at tanned cheeks. “Ooh? Really!” his voice rose, grabbing the attention of the irked customers around them. He lowered his voice, immediately noticing the glares sent his way. “I’d love to play a game with him too.” He paused briefly. “But Oikawa.”

“Hmmm, What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a suit.”

The screams of the hundreds of people in the stadium poured over everyone’s heads into the lower floor where the game would take place. It was wild. People from around the globe sat in the rows of plastic chairs, yelling over each other as they tried to make their words heard. From the main halls, Sugawara stood with his long time friends, sipping away at a customary plastic cup of beer, listening to the roars of opposing fans scream their chants at each other.

“This is so crazy, isn’t it? People we knew and played with, are going to be on the big stage for the whole world to see,” Sawamura let out in a large breath of air. “We played with some insane kids.”

Sugawara laughed, dropping his cup toward his waist. “We sure did.”

“I can’t imagine being on that court. The thought alone gives me shivers,” Asahi chipped in with a shudder.

The three slowly began to make their way through the large crowds towards their designated seats near Japan’s cheer squad. Daichi shifted his shoulders as he walked past an unwavering group that wouldn’t move. “We’re all going to the meetup later, right?”

The meetup. Sugawara was excited to see his old teammates and rivals again, though he was certain that the night would more than likely be filled with incoherent shouting matches over a hefty dinner made of mostly protein. He was right of course. About the large meals and loud yelling with a side of alcohol.

But he didn’t expect to see you waltz in, arm in arm with the infamous Oikawa Tooru, with an Argentine officials uniform pulled fittingly onto your arms.

He spent the whole night trying to get your attention to turn his way, but you seemed to be enraptured with the conversation you held with his previous underclassmen. Hinata especially seemed to be excited to talk to you.

So he settled with watching from afar. Letting the sight of the warmly lit environment make your skin let off a healthy glow. Those hours away from you, out of reach but in his sights, made that old wound reopen in his chest. Letting his spine curl into the wooden backrest of the chair he occupied.

“(L/N),” he said, finally able to pull you away from the brunet’s side and brush off Sawamura’s pestering. “How— how have you been? I haven’t seen you since…” his voice tapered off, suddenly realizing the situation that the little bit of liquid courage has put him into.

You gave him a large smile, maybe a bit guilty, but large nonetheless. “Ya. It sure has been. That’s my fault though, I ended up staying in Argentina. Not my original plan, but it just sort of happened.” Your voice raised at the end, almost as if you sounded embarrassed. The glass of water in your hand was quickly held up to your mouth.

“Well, it’s nice to have you back. Maybe we can—”

“Eh, look who it is. Karasuno’s designated pretty setter.” Oikawa, the man that had been glued to your side all night, rarely ever lifting the arm that once again was attached to the length of your shoulders. “How have you been, Mr. Refreshing?”

“I’ve been good. I started working at an elementary school.”

“Really?” you piped. A smile pulled your features as if you had just seen the more endearing thing. “That’s amazing, Sugawara, you’ve always liked kids.”

“Ya, I’m—”

“Oikawas!” The younger, redheaded man was at it again, yelling over the bustling crowd that filled the restaurant as he tried to run over.

Sugawara sighed, shaking his head at Hinata’s antics to grab the other player’s attention. He was about to yell at him to settle down before it occurred to him, successfully being the third person to cut himself off within the five-minute conversation. His brow furrowed and cheeks flushed, turning his head to look at the muscular arm that draped across your shoulders. He gulped.

“Oikawas?” he emphasized, successfully pulling your attention back to his confused gaze.

Biting your lip, you gave him a nervous smile.

In a single moment, the sound of the people around him washed away into a throbbing silence. His smile dropped and his eyes began to widen. The sight of the two people before him began to wash away all other distractions like tunnel vision. Whether it was the alcohol in his system, or his social battery running low, it didn’t matter. The image was unmistakable and the recognition in his eyes told you that.

Delicately wrapped around the fourth finger of your hand, on the hands of the two people before him, were perfectly polished gold bands.

I’ll be honest. This was like 2 sentences off from including smut…. I don’t write smut sooooo, Sorry buds - Bacon

Posted: 27/08/2020

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oboevallis · 4 years ago

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Hey! Wondering if u could write something related to this season with Amelink, the baby, Maggie, the kids, idk or maybe link goes to work and all the kids give Amelia hell and drive her crazy and the baby cries a lot

week 1

thank you so much for the prompt! im considering maybe doing a mini series on this, because im really living for domestic amelin, and i also didn’t do everything in the prompt also part 2 to baby blues will be out soon

"Auntie Amelia when is mommy going to be home?" Bailey asked as his aunt tucked him in.

"We talked about this the other day remember? Your mom has to help people at the hospital, but she can't come home because she may get us sick. So she's going to stay at a hotel. I promise first thing tomorrow you can FaceTime her."

"Okay, but why can't she come home to see us. I won't get sick."

"There's something called a pandemic going on right now, and basically that's a sickness that spreads really really quickly. And since your moms at the hospital all the time working with people who have the sickness it isn't safe for her to see us." Amelia wanted to cry when she saw the tears welling up in her nephews eyes.

"You don't do anything right though. You don't tuck me in right, and you don't make sandwiches right, and you don't play cars right either. Actually you don't play with me at all like you used to." Bailey ranted before he took his covers and pulled them over his head. Amelia tried to reach out to him only for him to turn away from her. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle this, it had barely been a week since lockdown begun.

"Good night Bailey, I love you." Amelia reassured as she closed the door behind her. She walked down the attic stairs to find Link putting the covers over Ellis while she laid on Merediths bed, for the past couple of nights she's refused to sleep unless it was in her mothers bed. She was pulled out of her moment of serenity from her baby's cries, she sighed and made her way to Maggie's room. They put his crib in there for the time being as it was the closest to their room.

"What's the matter my sweet boy?" Amelia picked up the crying baby from his crib. She sat down on Maggie's bed and cradled her son, resulting in her sons cries to subside. "Someone just wanted their mommy huh?"

"Auntie Amelia?" Zola's voice startled her aunt causing her to gasp. "Sorry I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay ZoZo, everything okay?" The girl just nodded and crawled into the bed next to her aunt.

"Is Scout okay?"

"Yeah, he's just fine. I think he just wanted some attention."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" The question took Amelia aback, she expected it from her younger niece and nephew but not from Zola. She sometimes forgot she was still a kid and not a teenager. She'd always acted mature for her age.

"Sure ZoZo. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just miss my mom. When I'm scared I always sleep with her."

"Why are you scared ZoZo?" Amelia knew it was a dumb question, she was scared herself. But it broke her heart her niece was as well.

"This sickness must be really bad if we can't go to school, or see friends, or see auntie Maggie and mommy."

"We're taking precautions, we wear out masks if we were to go out, we're quarantining. At the hospital your mom and aunt Maggie wear something called PPE, and they social distance and they constantly are washing their hands."

"So they won't get it?" Zola worriedly asked. Amelia didn't want to lie but she also didn't want her niece to be constantly worried.

"They're taking precautions ZoZo."

"Will you and Link be going to the hospital?"

"Well, not right now we're on something called maternity leave. That's when you have time off of work after you have a baby. So we'll be home for awhile and then we'll see what we should do. Don't be worried about this though, ZoZo. How about you go change into your pjs and brush your teeth, then you can go into my room and get to sleep that sound good?"

"That sounds good." Zola softly smiled as she jumped off the bed. Amelia sighed once her niece left the room, and turned her attrition to her baby.

"You are very adorable, but you need to sleep. You don't seem to like sleep very much though." She whispered as she placed the drowsy baby into his crib.

______________________________________

"Auntie Amelia your phones ringing." Zola yelled from the living room the next morning.

"Who is it?" Amelia asked, she was in the side room trying to help Bailey log onto a zoom meeting.

"Someone named Addison."

"Can you try to help Bailey log on? And bring my phone in here please." Zola skipped into the room and handed her aunt her phone, and took her seat at the computer. Amelia ran up the stairs and shut the bathroom door behind her, before Ellis realized she was up here. She sat in the bathtub and swiped the call on.

"Oh wow you look terrible." Addison commented, as her screen popped up with the face of her exhausted friend.

"Why thank you."

"Sorry, how are you holding up?"

"I'm alright, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, I just have never lost this many patients before."

"I can't even imagine, I hear it's really bad."

"Yeah it really is. So have you decided if your going back to work after your maternity leave?"

"I have no idea, I mean they desperately need doctors. But what happens to Scout and the kids. We can't leave them with a babysitter, because of quarantine. I don't know, I'm just kind of taking it a day at a time."

"That's okay, that's all we can really do. Take it a day at a time. How's the baby doing?"

"Oh he's really good." Amelia lit up at the mention of her baby. "I'm basically with him all the time, so Link is stuck with the other kids so I can't really complain."

"Link must be having the time of his life." Addison sarcastically laughed.

"Yea, he's never really dealt with kids before. At least not to this extent, the most he'd interact with a child before is if he had to do surgery on one." Knocking on the bathroom door took her out of her moment of serenity talk to her friend.

"Auntie Amelia, we still can't get Bailey into his zoom." Zola's voice came from the outside of the door.

"Crap, I've got to go Addie. Stay safe."

"You too." Amelia set her phone down on the edge of the tub, and hoisted herself up.

"You still can't get in?" Amelia asked once she opened the door.

"Nope, I tried everything."

"Alright I'll try and take a look at it." Amelia sighed, and went down the stairs to the room they've now dedicated to school. "Still can't get it?"

"No, so does that mean I don't have to do it?" Bailey hopefully asked.

"No your still going to have to do it. You know what I'll email your teacher, and tell her what's going on."

"Alright, I'm gonna go play." Bailey said quickly while running my out of the room.

"No, Bailey get back here." She called after her nephew, only for him to ignore her. She sighed and held her head in her hands. "Okay, ZoZo did you finish your school work yet?"

"Yep!"

"Okay, go play with Bailey then." She opened up Meredith's email, so she could contact Baileys teacher about the issue with the video call. Once she composed the email and sent it, she scrolled through the other emails. She noticed one from Zola's teacher and opened. Zola had 8 missing assignments, Amelia felt like crying and screaming. She already knew they were going to be up all night trying to catch her up, she wanted to be mad but she couldn't. This was nothing like her niece, she was obviously struggling with the quarantine.

"Hey the kids are done with school already?" Link asked as he came into the room.

"No, Bailey can't log on. And Zola's been lying to my face about completing her homework. I also have no idea what Ellis is supposed to be doing." Amelia choked out before she started crying.

"Oh, don't cry." Link walked further into the room and spun Amelia around in the spiny chair before wrapping his arms around her. “It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out. How about we sit everyone down, and come up with a game plan. We haven't sat down and organized how this is going to be."

"Okay." Amelia smiled slightly wiping away her tears. She spun around in the chair to face back towards the computer. She was going to write down all the children's assignments and figure the times that the teachers held their video calls.

______________________________________

"Okay do your Aunt Amelia and I wanted to talk to you guys." Link said as he placed down the kids plates in front of them.

"About what?" Zola asked curiously.

"Well we know that right now, everything's all messed up and kind of scary. But we still have to have a routine and make sure our school works getting done." Amelia said as she adjusted her shirt so her son could eat.

"So what does that mean." Zola asked before she messily slurped up her spaghetti.

"Well for starters we're gonna go to bed on time, and we'll wake up around 7 so we can get ready for the day before we start school." Link stated once he sat down at the kitchen table with everyone.

"So Bailey and Ellis you have two zoom calls everyday. At 8 and at 10, so Bailey you'll be in the side room and Ellis we'll set you up in the living room. Zola you have four calls so you'll be in the kitchen-"Zola interrupted before Amelia could finish her statement.

"Wait why do I have more calls then them, thats not really fair."

"Since your older you have more classes than they do. Back to what I was saying, we'll all have lunch together and then we can play for a little bit but then back to school. After everyone's done you can play or watch a movie then we'll have dinner and go to sleep. How does that sound?" Amelia asked, the couple realistically knew that this plan would probably never happen but they wanted to try to let the kids have a predictable routine everyday.

"Sounds fair." Bailey said and the two girls nodded in agreement. "Soooooo, can we watch a movie tonight?"

"Not tonight bud." Link said, causing sighs from all three children. After everyone was done with dinner Zola helped Link clear the table while Amelia put the baby to bed. "So you've got some missing assignments."

"Oh." Zola felt embarrassed. "I didn't know you knew about that."

"I do. Tonight me and your Aunt Amelia are going to help you with it, so you don't get further behind. Is that alright?"

"I guess so." Zola sighed. "It's just confusing, I like it better when it's on paper not the computer."

"Okay, so we'll sit down and figure it out. It's going to be okay."

"Thanks Link." Zola smiled kindly. "Sorry I lied, to Auntie Amelia about completing my work."

"Just don't do it again, next time just ask for help. Nothing gets better if you don't ask fo help." Link smiled.

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #baby amelink #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #scout lincoln #zola shepherd #bailey shepherd #ellis shepherd #meredith grey #maggie pierce

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akechicrimes · 5 years ago

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Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

Everything is the same.

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

Everything is the same.

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”

#mine #slams hands on table FUTAGO SIBLINGS #futaba's dubious mental health cw #Anonymous

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