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Title: Celebrating National Step Family Day: Embracing the Dynamics of Blended Families
National Step Family Day on September 16 celebrates the unique dynamics of blended families. Itâs a time to acknowledge the challenges and joys of stepfamilies and foster unity and appreciation.
Introduction National Step Family Day, observed annually on September 16, is a day dedicated to celebrating and acknowledging the unique dynamics and contributions of stepfamilies. This day offers an opportunity to recognize the challenges and joys of blended families and to foster a sense of unity and understanding. Discover the significance of National Step Family Day, learn about theâŠ
#Blended Families#Celebrating Families#Family Dynamics#Family Relationships#family support#Family Unity#National Step Family Day#parenting#Step Parenting#Stepfamilies
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09/16/2023 is National Guacamole Day đ, World Cleanup Day đ, Oktoberfest đ»đ©đȘ, International Red Panda Day đ, Rosh Hashanah âĄđ, Anne Bradstreet Day đșđČ, Mayflower Day đșđČ, National Cinnamon Raisin Bread Day đșđČ, World Play-Doh Day đșđČ, National Step Family Day đșđČ, Trail of Tears Commemmoration Day đșđČ, National Dance Day đđșđČ, Big Whopper Liar Day đșđČ, Boys' and Girls' Club Day for Kids đșđČ, International Coastal Cleanup Day đșđČ, International Eat an Apple Day đđșđČ, Puppy Mill Awareness Day đșđČ, Responsible Dog Ownership Day đșđČ, International Day for the Preservation of the Ozone Layer đșđł
#national guacamole day#world cleanup day#oktoberfest#international red panda day#rosh hashanah#anne bradstreet day#mayflower day#national cinnamon raisin bread day#world play-doh day#national step family day#trail of tears commemmoration day#national dance day#big whopper liar day#boys' and girls' club day for kids#international coastal cleanup day#international eat an apple day#puppy mill awareness day#responsible dog ownership day#international day for the preservation of the ozone layer
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Enemies (with benefits) to lovers Guili hostage prince au where zhongli is the sickly prince of a small kingdom married off to the empire as a consort for a political alliance and Guizhong is the grand empress, rumoured to be heartless and calculating who only wants power.
#zhongli#guizhong#guili#genshin impact#Zhongli is sent away to be the empress' boytoy while his half-brother (osial?) inherits the throne#Guizhong feeds the rumours of her ruthlessness to fend off the corrupt ministers by her side#Zhongli knows the empire has the means to cure his ill health- something his family never cared about#Zhongli is proper and princely but he's willing to give away his dignity and pride for the sake of his people#Guizhong doesn't mind the rumours or enemies as long as her empire prospers and war ends and her people thrive#we love semi unhinged guizhong#Guizhong was not in-line for the throne at the time so she was often overlooked and even looked down upon.#Guizhong's predecessor was a terrible ruler who was corrupt and wasted national money and the people suffered so she vowed to fix everythin#Guizhong spends her days mingling with the people and experiences the consequences of the recklessness of her predecessor first hand#Because of both his health and his illegitimacy zhongli was never able to step out thus growing up very sheltered#they learn to trust other people and bond over their sense of duty#ćç„#alternate universe#fanfic idea#fanfiction#headcanon#hostage prince au
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Yknow considering my mum was a self proclaimed socialist feminist who did work with the campaign for nuclear disarmament in the 80s and other related causes, you sure wouldn't guess it now. She loves keir starmer, casual transphobia and denial that trans people face anh issus ever, being vocally racist, especially against black and Asian folks, being pro Israel and devil's advocate when there's a GENOCIDE HAPPENING, she doesn't think disabled people including herself should have lives (my granddad who was in a powered wheelchair most of his life would hate her now I hate to say it but) she thinks black people are reverse racist when they call her out on her yt privilege instead of just yknow listening to what they have to say nd to top it all off she said the other day that the cass report is right, and earlier today said that she was probably going tk vote reform because 'we need to look after our own'
Like babe
You're a populist nationalist tiptoeing dangerously into fascist territory. No wonder none of your friends talk to you anymore
#it upsets me in a way cos i feel like my step dad has led her down this path#she never was like this til she met him#when i frist met him at 19 i said he was self absorbed; loved hismelf above all others#and was a skinhead thug#my mjm convjnced me tk give him s chance#which i did#and i regret that choice every single day#when i was 19 my mjm had s good friend circle that she used to go out with#she wasnt a purde - far from it - she was a proud feminist and socialist and i just#i feel sorry for HER really because she jsut can't/wont see it#shes changed so much from having friends of pakistani heritage who bring samosas and bhajis around#to being someone who uss the p slur to refer to the corner shop#even though one near me is run by a sikh family (i know this because they have the sikh decorations in the shop)#and the other is run by a man of asian descent but hes clearly british#but even if eithr of them were pakistani WHAT THE FUCK#shes knly done that recently#also caught her offhand referring to some trans news story when the cass report came out as 'that tra**y thing' which like#really#really this is the hill you want to die on when you have a trans son whose gender and name you refuse to use#ugh idk sorry i rambled more than i should in the tags i know#but its jsut so wearing and tiring tk see someone yiu loved be changed for the worse#racism cw#transphobia cw#ableism cw#nationalism cw#fascism cw#politics cw#reading my mum to filth cw lmao
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AGAINST THE TIDES â P.SH
SYNOPSIS: Growing up, youâve only had one best friend that you would call your family. Park Sunghoon. He was your partner in crime, your best friend, your ride or die, he was everything. You and him did almost anything and everything together, practically attached to the hip, and that included swimming too. As years passed, you and him both turned out to be outstanding swimmers that had a promising career ahead. All was well until one unforgettable day that broke your lifelong friendship, turning it into anger and hatred instead. With the Olympics coming up, you had unexpected news about Sunghoon joining your team. Worst of all, you had to work alongside him for the mixed medley relay event. One dream, one goal, a childhood wish you and him shared, will that be successfully achieved when you and him could barely bear standing next to each other?
PAIRINGS: pro-swimmer!sunghoon x pro-swimmer!afab!reader
GENRE: childhood friends to enemies to lovers, sports au, angst, romance, slow burn, forced proximity
WARNING(S): mentions of drinking/alcohol, profanities, (lots of) miscommunication
WC: 28k
PLAYLIST: suburban legends by taylor swift, heartburn by wafia
AUTHOR'S NOTE: after 4 months of not posting, i've vomited out 28k for y'all! i hope you guys will like this one and do forgive me for my lack of swimming knowledge helpp, i tried with my years of swimming! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx
masterlist | © jaylver 2024 all rights reserved
Was it possible to wake up from a dream that happened to be your reality?
Standing in the national aquatics training centre, the swimming pool where you've practically resided was glistening under the bright lights. Contrary to them, you were anything but bright, a sudden dread befalling your expressions.
Coming into your first day of the three months long and last training before the Olympics, you were anticipating for it to be a peaceful, fun day that would end with your muscles aching. However, the moment you stepped onto the training ground, being the first to reach, your coach had already decided to break a rather dreadful news.Â
"Come on, Y/N, it's nothing too bad," Jeon Jungkook, your young coach that retired early from competing and also the reason for your countless success, was trying his best to reassure you. It wasn't working.
"Not 'too bad'? Being in the same national team with him is already a sight for sore eyes to me. Now you're telling me I have to train with him under you? Together?"Â
Your coach was rubbing the side of his head, the early morning and the shrillness of your voice wasn't a favourable pairing to him. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but if it wasn't for Yeonjun's sudden injury, he wouldn't have to be replaced for the mixed relay,"Â
"Well, if only he didn't get drunk and fell off his bike," you muttered under your breath, never once taking account that this would be the consequences you were suffering from his actions. That was until this moment.Â
There came a sigh coming from Jungkook, his arms were crossed and he was resting his weight on one leg. "I know you and him don't get along, but I've discussed this with Coach Kim and we thought that if I replaced Yeonjun with him, it's the best decision. Plus, both of you are Olympic medallists, having two star swimmers in a team isn't all that bad,"
You were silent, stubbornly keeping quiet at the fact that you knew he was right. Of course he was, he's been your coach for years, he has his ways of choosing his words correctly when it comes to you. He knew of your drive to win, the hunger to win gold and nothing else. With a cold, hard fact that Jungkook had slapped onto your face, you had no choice but to consider and forcefully accept.
"You two have history together. Years of history. There's chemistry whether or not you like it. Period," Jungkook waved his arms around, smiling at you as if trying his best to make you feel better. "There's one thing you can't deny. Winning. When there's winners, you mix them together, then what do you get? Medals,
"So, I'm begging you, Y/N. Put up with Park Sunghoon for a few months, another few rounds at the Olympics, then we're done, he'll be back at Coach Kim. Alright?"
"Butâ"
"End of discussion. Go change up, I'm sure the others will be here soon, including Sunghoon, so you better not throw a tantrum," he pointed his finger at you, wagging it at you accusingly to which you responded with a discreet eye roll.
"Yes, coach."
Even in the locker, you found yourself mulling about at the thought of training with Park Sunghoon again. That name itself has sent you waves of chills countless times.
Park Sunghoon was your childhood friend. Having been your neighbour since birth, your mothers were naturally the reason why you were even friends in the first place. You were barely five when your mother placed you in the local swim club for training, then not long after, Sunghoon joined too.
Your lives mainly revolved around two things. Swimming and each other. Basically, you and him were inseparable. You shared the same coach as him even after entering your teen years. Whether it was the swim club or the youth national team, there was nothing anyone could do to separate you and him in terms of swimming or every aspect in general. Hell, you and him both specialised in the same stroke as well, breaking out into the scene to be the best prospects, earning a reputation for yourselves swiftly. Your friendship itself was known by all too. 'Star swimmers', that was what people called you and Sunghoon.
That was until a particular Wednesday in 2018 that made your nearly sixteen years of friendship with him crumble into ashes.Â
"I'm switching coaches. I'm switching clubs."Â
You remembered it clearly. It was just after nine o'clock at night when you were done showering, ready to leave and head home with Sunghoon. Yet, his words echoed in the silence of the training centre then.
"What?"
"I just don't think it's working out,"
"Sunghoonâ" you never once called his full name unless it was a serious situation, "the Youth Olympic games is literally in a week. What are you even saying?"
"I don't want to lose anymore, Y/N. Do you know it feels like working my body till the point of breaking just for me to get beaten by someone better. I need to get better," his composure was breaking, you could tell, the clenched fists by his side was turning white.Â
Your eyes widened at the tone of his voice, but your frown only deepened at his words, nothing was making sense to you. "You're jeopardising the team!"
"I've discussed this with the coaches, I've got permission from the higher ups,"Â
"You're ⊠you're selfish," you said slowly, unable to speak any longer at the shock of his sudden news. "You never bothered to discuss this with me either,"
"I don't need to,"
"So, you're disregarding our friendship altogether? We promised to tell each other everything!"
"Oh, grow up, Y/N. We were six when we said that, this is different. We're different now,"
In that split second was when a hard realisation hit you. He changed. It was almost as if the person that he once was had died overnight, revealing someone new that shared the same physical traits. Was it the results of the last competition you had days ago that made him turn into this? You never knew him losing would've affected him this badly. That was one thing about Sunghoon, he was never outspoken about his feelings and thoughts.
"You're right. You're no longer the person I know."
That was the last time you ever had a conversation with him face-to-face. The change was drastic. One day he was walking home with you and the next he wasn't even in your life, barely acknowledging each other at competitions. It was legendary, but it was momentary. To say it has taken a toll on you was an understatement. If it wasn't for your mother's consolation, you wouldn't have shown up for training and eventually won at the Youth's game.
Six years. Six, long miserable years of ignoring each other.
The year you were called up to the senior national team was the same year that he did too. It was evident that there was tension between you and him, there was no need for a second look for someone to determine that. You knew rumours were bound to fly, it has been ever since your split with him.
You hate to admit that what he did was right too. Since the day he changed coaches and clubs, he has been improving and climbing higher. Gold was the only colour hanging around his neck at almost every competition he was in. Maybe you were the selfish one after all, secretly wishing he never left in the first place because you were scared of losing him. Well, who knew the fear in that moment turned into your instant reality? Seeing his success only made you bite back on your words of calling him selfish.
The first Olympics you attended in Tokyo was an experience to say the least. Winning two silver and one bronze, your hunger for gold only grew bigger. Everyone in the team had expected either you or Sunghoon to bring back the gold medal, but none of you did, and by then, there was an unspoken rivalry that started from the moment people placed their expectations on you and him.
Three years later in the present day, you couldn't believe he was becoming your teammate and training under the same coach again. Crazy how things could change in a blink of an eye, huh? Your main concern, however, wasn't facing Sunghoon, but whether or not he'd fit into the relay team with only three months of training and no prior experience.
"Well, if it isn't the Y/N L/N being the first to arrive as always," The sound of your teammates' heavy footsteps entered the locker room, Yujin's voice in particular echoed through it, entering your sight at once. "How have you been?"
"Great, been living and sleeping in the pool," you snickered sarcastically, patting Yujin's back in greeting. "I heard you took a long break from your club after the championships,"
"I did, and my muscles are dying to touch the water,"
"She caused a lot of ruckus at the club for that," Yunjin joined into the conversation after setting her bags down, nudging her club and national teammate. "I'm glad we're all back, three months and then Paris, isn't that a dream?"
"It definitely is. I can't wait for the Eiffel tower," Yujin smiled with a dazed look, you and Yunjin only exchanged a silent glance at one another.
"Not the gold medal?"
"That too,"
"I see where your priorities lie,"Â
"Whatever," she waved her hand at your response, reaching for her swimsuit. "Anyway, did you hear the news from coach?"
"I did," you wrapped your towel tighter around your body, the cold prickling at your skin now that you were in your swimsuit.Â
"You don't seem very happy," Yunjin pointed out as she changed into her swimwear, it was then when you became aware of the frown on your face. "The guys are excited,"
"I'm trying to be happy," you grumbled. At this point, there was no hiding the previous history you had with him, almost everyone knew about you and him, the star athletes since teen years had suddenly stopped interacting, obviously that would catch people's eyes and turn into gossip.
"Didn't you have some ⊠fallout with him before?"Â
"You know about it?"Â
"Y/N, I hate to say it but the whole nation's swimmers are probably aware of it," Yujin walked up to you and passed your goggles to you. "Word spreads fast even during the youth training camps, but I'm sure there's a reason behind your fall out with him, we won't pry,"
"I'm a little curious though," Yunjin added, throwing her towel around her shoulder, unaware of Yujin's pointed glare at her bluntness.
"It's quite petty really, I'm surprised you never heard it from any of my club teammates," you pressed your lips into a thin line, shifting your stance uneasily. "He wanted to leave the club before a big competition, I mean, I get where he's coming from, but I was hurt that he didn't tell me beforehand. I thought it was unfair, we were friends for so long. We said some hurtful things to each other, and things were never the same after," your heart unknowingly tightened at your inner thoughts about the whole fight, telling the story years after made you reflect on it with regret.Â
"Do you forgive him?"
"If it meant having my best friend back, I would, but I don't know if he feels the same as I do."
Walking out of the locker room took a huge amount of courage and strength for you to not turn around running. The thought of seeing and interacting with Sunghoon pained you to a great level. Not because you hated him, but mainly the awkwardness and tension that was hard to rid.Â
You saw the rest of your teammates by the pool, Anton and Juyeon were too engaged in their conversations to realise Yunjin running up to them with her arms wide open. "Boys!" She engulfed the three men in her arms, startling them and almost had them falling back into the pool.Â
"Gosh, you're never going to stop doing that, aren't you?" Anton patted Yunjin's arm, smiling at his senior as she let go.Â
"Never,"Â
The two men greeted Yujin first before turning their attention to you, straightening their spines and giving you a salute. "Y/N,"
"Hey guys, doing good?" You gave each of their shoulders a pat in greeting, receiving firm nods from them as a response. They took the chance to immediately bombard you with questions about your practices and competitions, sharing their own stories about what they were up to as well.
"Y/N, I heard someone's going to snatch your spot in the mixed relay," Anton, the backstroke swimmer and your mixed relay teammate, was referring to Sunghoon's addition to the team. Your endless worries about Sunghoon becoming your teammate had you forgetting about the thing you should actually be worrying about: your position.
"Like hell Y/N is going to give up her spot easily," Yujin came to your defence with her arms thrown around your shoulder. "Isn't that right?" She turned her head to look at you, poking your cheek with a finger.
"What I'm saying is, Y/N could potentially fill in for Yeonjun's spot too. She's also a breaststroke specialist and Sunghoon's last win in the championship was him breaking the world record for freestyle. I'm just saying maybeâjust maybeâthis combo would be something exciting,"
Yujin, the butterfly swimmer in the mixed relay team, frowned slightly at his argument, though debatable, she didn't seem to think the idea as fit. "The second leg is usually swam by men, it'd be a disadvantage to have a woman swim it. Based off the statistics, it'd be a shit show of a strategy,"
"I'm afraid she's right," you shrugged, heaving a deep sigh at the struggle your team was facing before training even started. "There's no way coach would do that,"
"Then is Sunghoon supposed to really swim the second leg?"
"Duh, who else? He got picked specifically, out of many other people, to replace Yeonjun, I'm sure there's a reason behind it," Yujin gave your shoulder a light squeeze. "Not to mention, he's got a reputation for being a good breaststroker too,"
"Right, he got second place in Tokyo, didn't he? Just like you did, Y/N," Anton's gaze landed on your rather sullen face, the memories of Tokyo where you found out you won the same amount of medals in the same categories as Sunghoon came flying back into your mind.Â
The thought of it was laughable, how were you still telepathically connected with him from then up until this moment. It was your childhood with him to blame at the end of the day. You were the one to influence him and made him fall in love with your two favourite strokes: freestyle and breaststroke. Who knew you would land yourself in a position where you potentially had to fight him for your position?Â
"Y/N will always be our freestyle master in the last leg, okay? No competitions needed. Our first training together will speak for itself," Yujin glanced at you briefly, checking up on you after your momentary silence. You gave her a smile, reaching for her hand that sat on your shoulder.Â
Soon after, the distant sound of your coach's voice slowly became louder as he approached closer. He was talking to someone, the second voice obviously belonged to the person everyone was waiting for, the addition of a star swimmer into the team instantly raised your teammates' expectations and hopes. Everyone else in the room were giving each other knowing glances at the anticipation of Sunghoon's arrivalâexcept for you.Â
You were holding your breath, mentally counting down the seconds while the footsteps of your coach and the person who was once your best friend were nearing. Every one of you instinctively lined up in a row as always, awaiting Coach Jeon's arrival.Â
You didn't dare to blink. Lo and behold, Park Sunghoon entered the room with your coach by his side, the strong presence of an Olympic medallist and world championship winner filled the room. It was hard to deny that his presence alone was influential.Â
"Morning, everyone. As you may know, we'll be having a new additionâor replacementâto the team. Everyone please welcome Sunghoon,"Â
Following his words, there were enthusiastic claps with a sprinkle of shouts from the guys. Sunghoon was trying his best to keep up with the overwhelming atmosphere from his new teammates, most of which were familiar faces considering they were all from the national team, the only difference was the coaches they train under. That was until now.Â
You were standing to the far left, furthest away from the center where Sunghoon was. Were you a coward for avoiding him? That was partially the truth, but all those years of ignoring one another, brushing past each other at every national and international competitions, you weren't the only one at fault. He was also a coward that claimed he was a lion.Â
Jungkook patted Sunghoon's back in encouragement, giving the latter a push for him to introduce himself. "Nice to meet everyone, I'm Park Sunghoon. It's my first time training with you all, so I'm apologising in advance if there's any mistakes made on my part. I hope we'll be able to get along well and bring home some gold medals from Paris,"
The team erupted in passionate cheers and applause from Sunghoon's self-introduction. It was clear everyone shared the same goal: a gold medal at the Olympics.Â
"Alright, so I think everyone already somewhat knows each other, am I correct?" Jungkook looked between Sunghoon and his group of swimmers, both of which nodded and responded with a chorus of 'yes'. "How about a fresh introduction? A friendly way to warm up to one another,"Â
'Friendly' was one way to put it and he was definitely directing it at you.
Juyeon, who stood on the furthest to the right, started his introduction first. "I'm Lee Juyeon, butterfly swimmer, we met at the youth championship before,"
"Right, we did, nice to see you again, man," Sunghoon and Intak shared a firm handshake before moving onto Anton. The introductions were all brief, but there were also friendly gestures exchanged. Not long after, you were the last and only one left to introduce yourself.
If you could describe the exact moment Sunghoon met your eyes for the first time in nearly six years, it would be suffocating, and it was in the worst way possible. The warmth and familiarity that was once in those brown irises happened to be gone and lost with him when he saw you. You didn't know how to react, just seeing the hostility and coldness from him that you wished wasn't real was enough to beat you down.
"I'm Y/N L/N. I hope we can win a medal together in the mixed relay," you stayed rooted to your spot stubbornly, not bothering to exchange at least a handshake with him unlike your teammates. It seemed he reciprocated your feelings.
His stoic expression never once faltered, but it was his eyes that spoke louder than words needed to. Amongst the coldness of his gaze, there was an unmistakable shock and longing that he hid well enough for you to not fully catch onto. "I hope so too."
Ignoring the weird tension that lingered around the room between you and Sunghoon, you started your usual routine off along with your teammates. Long hours and many laps of endless swimming was about to be your reality again. The worst part of all was the strength training that was yet to start.Â
The excruciating nine hours of never ending swimming soon ended around the evening and your first day was finally done. Neither you nor Sunghoon crossed paths or interacted, maintaining your bliss and ignorance that would bring you peace.Â
"Are you just going to ignore him until his last day?" Yunjin was drying her hair, staring at you with an accusatory gaze.Â
"Yeah, I guess?" You shrugged, packing up your bag that you slung over your shoulder, flashing Yunjin an indifferent smile.Â
"I don't think that's a great idea, Y/N. We still have the mixed relay to consider, there's no way you could just go radio silence on him when it's a team event," Yujin made her way into the changing room from the shower just in time to listen in on your conversation, seemingly disapproving at you and Sunghoon's behaviour towards one another.Â
"What am I going to do? He doesn't even want to acknowledge me,"
"How about you try making the first move?"
"Over my dead body," you murmured, hating the fact that you and Sunghoon's past conflicts were stagnating the team, yet your ego was not ready to confront him. Nope, never.Â
"You're so stubborn," Yujin grumbled, shaking her head in disapproval. "He's equally stubborn. God, I can't believe I have to put up with these hot-headed, stubborn people, give me strength, please,"
"It'll be fine. As long as I keep my distance and he keeps his distance, nothing will go wrong," you slapped Yujin on her back, earning a doubtful look from her that you responded with an earful smile.Â
"I highly doubt that," Yunjin chimed in, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder, ready to leave as well. Yujin turned to share a knowing look with her.
"Me too."
All you could do was roll your eyes, not daring to respond because you knew, too, that you couldn't fully promise that you'd stick to your words. It was impossible to predict what would happen in the next few days, let alone three months. The non-existent interactions with Sunghoon for six years couldn't prepare you for what he was like currently, and for that reason, you were scared.Â
That night, alone in your bed, you couldn't take your eyes off the picture frame sitting on your dressing table. It was a picture of you and Sunghoon at the ripe age of thirteen, holding onto your gold medals with the biggest smiles right after a competition. Who would've known in a few years time since then, you wouldn't even be able to stand next to him.Â
How you wished those childish smiles would make its way back to you and Sunghoon, standing next to each other with a gold medal again.
A week has passed since the day Sunghoon first started his training under your coach.Â
Safe to say, you kept your distance from him and so did he. Neither of you managed to exchange a single word or a single glance that lasted more than a second. It might've been a natural occurrence for you to have some sort of 'cold war' with Sunghoon, but to the others, they felt a little awkward having to be part of it.
For the second week of training, the part that you enjoyed most became dreadful to you. The mixed relay training was inevitable with Sunghoon's presence as a first timer to the group. More practices were implemented by Coach Jeon in order for Sunghoon to adapt and grow familiar with the general rules around mixed relay medley.Â
"Doing good?" Anton was the second to arrive after you, standing next to you by the pool. He had probably noticed you staring into the pool, letting your thoughts drift away.
You snapped out of your daze, blinking in surprise at him until you realise who you were talking to. "Whâyeah, I'm fine,"
"You're not nervous for our first training together as a team, right?" He attempted to lighten the mood, bumping your shoulder with his.Â
"No," you scoffed. That was a lie. You were nervous, and masking it up wasn't exactly a great way to deal with it. "It's just any other training,"
"Be honest, you were probably mad when you heard about Yeonjun's stupid accident, weren't you?" Anton took a seat on the starting block, staring up at you with a pair of big doe eyes.Â
"Mad? Not exactly. Maybe annoyed? Concerned? A little bit of everything," you frowned, remembering the message sent in the group chat the week before training started. 'Can't turn up to training, fell down my bike and broke my ankle' it was unforgettable. "Why?"
"I'm just a little disappointed it's not Yeonjun swimming the second leg. He's one of the strongest breaststroke swimmers,"
"Weren't you excited about Sunghoon's arrival?"
"Well, it's a no brainer I'm excited, Sunghoon's a great swimmer, but he's not exactly Yeonjun. Thinking about how sudden everything is, the changes and having to adapt to them, I'm just worried it'll affect the team's performance,"
Your gaze softened at the younger boy's truthful confession. If you had to be completely honest, you were worried about the team's future performances as well. Having so little time to adjust and letting a replacement take up a crucial swimmer's role was bound to cause doubts.Â
"We'll be fine," your voice was firm with determination. "The future's unpredictable anyway. Who knows what will be the result of this lineup?"Â
"Do you know how great of a motivational speaker you are?" Anton smiled at your words, the worries that filled his eyes were blinked away. "Also, what's up with you and Sunghoon? Are you guys always like ⊠this?" He proceeded to make some gestures with his hands.
Here it is. That topic.Â
The real question should be: when were you never like this with Sunghoon?
You shrugged, directly lying to his face a second time. "It's complicated. Let's start our warm up, shall we?"
That was enough to divert Anton's attention away from the question he originally brought up, successfully dodging it until the others arrived and started their warm ups as well. Yujin, in particular, was overwhelmed with excitement to start her part of the relay, hoping to beat her own personal record.
"Were you always this excited for training?" You looked at Yujin with an eyebrow raised, watching as she stretched her limbs carefully, a cheery expression on her face.Â
"I think my break made me realise how much I missed the water," she kneeled down to touch the surface of the pool water with her finger, a little habit of hers before competitions that she grew to have.Â
"How's the temperature?"
She stood back up, straightened her spine, a wide grin spreading onto her lips. "Absolutely perfect."
Once the warm ups were officially concluded, Yunjin and Intak were sent to other lanes in the pool to start their individual training, whereas you and your remaining teammates were listening intently to the coach's every word.
"So, we start our first practice today. Together, as a team, a new team. Let's see what's the time recorded for each leg, improve the handoffs and perfect your individual time. Anton, you'll go first,"
Anton fixed his swim cap right after that, walking towards the starting block while the team dispersed to wait for their turn. You stood beside Yujin, Sunghoon only inches before you. It was hard concentrating on Anton and his start, barely registering the sound of the whistle blowing. He was so magnetic it was almost obnoxious.
"Hey, new guy! Got the rules down?" Yujin directed her words at Sunghoon, catching him off guard. He turned around, an impassive expression was his first response to Yujin. His eyes flickered to you for a split second, quick enough for you to barely catch onto it.
"I have," he answered shortly, seemingly frozen from Yujin putting him into a spot out of the blue.Â
Before returning his focus back onto the pool ahead of him, he stole a haste glance at you for the second time. It was barely a second's worth of his eyes on you, not even an acknowledgement. You couldn't explain it. Why were you ticked off by him?Â
"Sunghoon, get ready!" Coach Jeon shouted from the other side of the room, glancing between his stopwatch and the pool. Sunghoon stood on the starting block, fixing his goggles in place. "Now!"
The moment Anton's fingers grazed the pool's wall, Sunghoon dived into the pool perfectly, all eyes were fixed on him now. The swimmer that created history, broken records, set a standard for new generations of swimmers, was proving why he was labelled a national treasure.
He was quick. How was that even possible? Breaststroke was one of the slowest strokes in swimming and yet he made it seem as though it was the easiest to swim. Yujin was next, her excitement was apparent in her swim and aggression. The butterfly stroke and her perfect posture had her resembling a mermaid.Â
It was your turn to stand on the starting block, preparing for the exact second Yujin finished her lap. Your heart was beating against your chest, adrenaline was suddenly coursing through your veins. The time was ticking, Yujin was coming closer, and with one touch to the wall, off you went into the pool, the cold water engulfing you whole.
The first inhale of air filled your lungs to its maximum capacity. You could feel a sense of buzzing on the tip of your fingers, the muscles of your legs were working to its limits. You felt great.Â
Your flip turn was quick and perfect. Everything was going right for you. The way your legs and arms were working in sync, your breathing technique had improved, all of these being factors to your best swim yet. The stopwatch was halted once your tips touched the wall, finally getting the chance to get your head out of the water and breathe deeply.
"54 seconds!" Coach Jeon called out, a satisfactory grin plastered on his face. "Good job," he clapped his hands, throwing up a thumbs up at both you and your teammates. âGet a short rest, Iâll be with the others then weâll resume our training together,â
A chorus of âyes, coachâ travelled through you and your teammates, all of you watched as he walked to the other side of the pool where the others were training, then breathed a collective sigh of relief. Yujin came forward to help you out of the pool, wrapping a towel around you while patting your back.
"Good swim,"
You smiled at her, placing your hand on her waist. "You had a good swim too,"
"What a swim, L/N!" Anton, who stood next to Sunghoon, yelled at you as you and Yujin approached. You snorted at his enthusiasm, giving him a thumbs up in response. The man to his left, however, remained impassive just as his face displayed almost to no emotions regarding your performance. Not that you needed his validation anyway. You met his eyes, his unwavering stare bore into you, it was as if everyone was awaiting for his comments.Â
"You didnât swim at your best,"
His words were as cold as his voice, piercing into your heart without a space for you to recover or register what he meant. What did he mean? There was a sudden edge to the atmosphere around the group, a thick air of tension surrounded you and him in particular. âWhat?â There was no need for him to repeat what he just said, but it was almost unbelievable as an alien invasion to you.
âYou werenât swimming at your best,â Sunghoon repeated firmly, his stoicness never once faltering. Your dignity, on the other hand, was withering.Â
âWho are you to determine whether or not Iâm swimming at my best?â You took a step forward, your footstep heavy on the ground. He stayed rooted to his spot, chin held high while your narrowing gaze pierced through his skull.
There was a pause where a momentary silence filled the air. Neither you nor the rest of your teammates dared to speak. The man before you was expressionless, it was nearly hard to read him or his thoughts, only seeing the steady rise and fall of his chest, whereas yours was in a frenzy.âI know you,â
He might as well have just shot you in the face. Those three words were as hard as bullets were, causing you to almost lose your footing and tumble over, but somehow, you managed to stand your ground. Out of the many things he couldâve said, this was the least you expected. You had wished he wouldâve lied and insulted you rather than speaking the inevitable truth. Frankly, it was the same for you.Â
âYou know nothing about me,â you seethed out, nostrils flaring out of indignation.Â
Sunghoon scoffed, turning his head to a side for a second before looking back at you, a fire lighting up in those cold eyes of his, melting into a fiery pit of rage. âYou can cuss me out or insult me all you want, but the biggest insult you could ever throw at me is disregarding our past. I know you, itâs simple as that, and I can tell youâre not swimming to your fullest,â
You couldnât form an immediate response, because you were stunned and stuck in an endless cycle of thoughts, thinking if what he said was actually true. What if ⊠you truly werenât swimming at your best? Were you holding back? The only thing you could bear to thank Sunghoon now was for feeding into your self doubts.
âYouâŠyouââ
âOkay, cut it out guys,â Anton came to stand between you and Sunghoon, shielding your line of sight and you felt an odd sense of relief that Sunghoon couldnât see your crumbling state. There was no way in hell you were turning vulnerable right in front of him, nor were you going to lose the fight to him. Knowing how stubborn either of you were, if Anton hadnât cut into it, you mightâve been there for longer. âQuit fighting, I swear. I know thereâs tensionâhell, I can feel itâbut can you two at least act like you can tolerate each other? If you two act like this even in Paris, what will the press write?â
Anton was right, he was always right. You hated how youâve allowed your emotions and past consumed you when it came to Sunghoon. The person who was once your strength had turned into your weakness, your flaw. Everything had been fine until it came to him, it has been so ever since six years back. Now, you were reliving it all over again.
âIâm going to get some air,â Sunghoon announced, sparing one last glance at you before turning his heel to leave, the water from his body left wet footprints on the floor.
Yujin and Anton turned to look at you, the unmistakable look of shock on their faces. They were seemingly as helpless as you were, but they were more likely experiencing much worse being stuck in the middle of you and Sunghoon. âIâm sorry ⊠for that. Iâll go for a dip in the pool.â
They watched as you made your way back to the starting block and in the next second, you had already jumped into the pool, starting another lap again. Yujin and Anton stared at one another, matching frowns etched onto their worried faces. There was a wordless exchange as if something had clicked in their minds from just one knowing look.
âWe need to find a way to get them to reconcile.â
One month into training and there was nothing that could be done to make the two star swimmers return to a civil relationship. In fact, the space between you and Sunghoon had only grown bigger ever since the small rift that made everything go from bad to worse.
It had gone to a point where Coach Jeon had to give both of you a lecture, almost begging you and Sunghoon to work together for those few short months. To him, it mightâve truly been a âfew short monthsâ, but to you? It was a hellish period of time to be reckoned with.
You could tell everyone was trying to push you and him together, but you and him were just like magnets with the same poles, repelling each other no matter how much effort was put into getting you and him close. There was once when your teammates had strategized to purposefully have you and Sunghoon sitting side-by-side, yet to their surprise, your hatred for one another gave you ways to make any efforts fail. For that dinner, each of your chairs were pulled far enough to create an obvious distance, not one glance was even spared between you and him.
Then came a Saturday, a weekend off for the team and an opportunity for everyone to go out for drinks. It was the perfect time to let go and relax for a short moment, but to your teammates, it just so happened to be a perfect setting for their plan: get Sunghoon and Y/N to diffuse their hatred.
âWhy is everyone always at my place when we get ready to go out?â you grumbled, picking up your dirty clothes that were scattered on the floor to make way for Yunjin and Yujin, their hands full with clothes and makeup.
âItâs a tradition now,â Yujin pressed a kiss on your cheek, laughing at your unimpressed frown. âItâs a once in a blue moon type of thing! We should make the most out of tonight, we donât know when weâll have another day off after this,â
âThatâs right,â Yunjin said, placing her dress onto your bed, next to yours that was laid carefully to avoid wrinkles. âItâs time to drink till we break.â
That wasnât exactly how you wished your night to go. You and the girls met up with the guys at the entrance to the club, having to squeeze your way in and hold onto each other tightly to not lose your way. It reminded you why you never had an active nightlife apart from the routine you had as an athlete. The club reeked of alcohol, sweat, smoke and many other things, none of them were good.
The moment you got to settle into the booth, you finally got a clear view of everyone. You, Yunjin and Yujin were dressed in almost matching tight dresses, the only difference was the colour, the length and the existence of shoulder straps. Anton and Juyeon were sporting collared shirts, while Sunghoon wore a black button down shirt, his hair gelled up to reveal his forehead.
There was no mistaking his straying eyes, but he wasnât the only one, you were equally guilty. You tried to reason it with the excuse of pure curiosity, yet you found yourself stealing more than one glance. By then, you knew it wasnât something you could easily deny.
Juyeon leaned his body against the table with a serious expression that he had whenever he set the rules for the night every time you had a night out. âOkay, so the rules for tonight, no leaving on your own, unless you send a text. No going overboard until you do crazy shit that will get your name on the headline,â he paused, scanning the group. âLastly, no becoming Yeonjun and break your bones,â
There was a chorus of snorts and laughter at the slight dig at Yeonjun. It was a joke, but the chances of it happening wasnât entirely zero. âGot it!âÂ
The group soon dispersed, some were headed straight to the bar, some were off to the dance floor and some had stayed in the booth. You and Yujin had stuck together, sitting on the high stool at the bar, heads propped onto your hand as you stared at each other. There was a wordless breath of a sigh between you and her, it seemed that neither of you needed to verbally communicate to know what the other was thinking. You held your shot glass up to clink against hers, and at the same time, you downed the shot down with Yujin.Â
The feeling of the alcohol burning your throat was something you didnât miss, yet it was what you needed at that moment. âThat was good,â you muttered, hearing Yujinâs laugh as a response to your comment. âIf I wasnât an athlete whose health gets scrutinised, I would be drinking at every minor inconvenience,â
âYouâd be an alcoholic at that point,â Yujin shook her head, a faint smile adoring her sharp features. âWhy? Is the pressure getting to you?â
âNot exactly. I donât think about those things, I never do,â you watched as the bartender filled your and Yujinâs shot glasses once more. âIâm thinking about Sunghoon,â
Yujin straightened up at that, her body leaned close to yours, an inquisitive raise of her eyebrow met your eyes. âSunghoon? You? Thinking about Sunghoon?â
âNot about him per se, but you knowâusâour past, itâs affecting the team and I hate it. I hate that I canât do anything about it,â
âYou can? You can just make things even with him,â
âEasier said than done. We canât see eye to eye. I mean, do you think itâs easy to befriend your ex best friend that you had beef with?â
âWellâŠno,â
âExactly,â you said, followed by downing another shot out of your glass. âItâs hard to even speak to him without him glaring at me, how am I supposed to go: âhey, letâs be BFFs againâ,â
âBut donât you want to try and mend things? At least end the bad blood,â
You stared at your shot glass, your fingers grazing against the mouth of the cup, a sad smile making its way to your lips. âI wish I could, but Iâm afraid the damage is worse than I had imagined.â
Drowning your sadness in shots after shots was an equation for disaster, and that was exactly what you had done. Excuse the liver damage, your current concern was your emotions that were bound to spill out of its seams. An emotional drunk, that was what you were as depressing as it sounds. The thought of Sunghoon and your ruined friendship was the cherry on top to it all.
âHe hates me!â you slurred, your face buried in your hands after four shots of tequila. âI donât even know how it turned out like this ⊠how it turned into this,â
âY/N, youâre drunk,â Yujin moved your shot glass further from your reaching hands, causing you to frown deeper at that. âNo more, okay? Youâll regret it in the morning,â
âIâm used to regretting things, just leave me be,â you pouted at Yujin, but she was firm and final in her decision in cutting you off alcohol for the night. âSunghoonâŠâ you murmured before the alcohol fully set in and your head collapsed onto the table, absolutely blacking out.
âOh God.â
Yujin returned to the booth with you slumped against her. She thought the amount of weight training she had endured was finally worth it for having to put up with your drunk self. The rest of your teammates had returned to the booth, empty cups were littered around the table, the only sober ones there were Yunjin and Sunghoon, who was trying to peel Anton away from his body. He glanced up in time to see Yujin approaching with you being supported by her. Â
Yunjin stood up and rushed to Yujinâs side to help her with you. âIs she okay? Iâve never seen her this drunk,â
âI should be asking the same about Anton and Juyeon,â Yunjin nodded at the two who were slumped against each other, eyes closed and probably drifting to some dreamland where a head splitting morning would soon await them in the morning.Â
âTheyâre also a lost cause,â she sighed, shaking her head. âLetâs get going,â
It was a miracle that Yunjin, Yujin and Sunghoon had successfully carried you and the other two out of the club. The process, however, didnât matter and was forbidden to speak about, what mattered most was the success of getting the three of you.Â
âIâll call a cab for us four, we live in the same apartment complex,â Yunjin looked over at a struggling Yujin trying her best to prevent Anton and Juyeon from falling over while they leaned against each other. You were basically the calmest out of them, sleeping soundly. âWill it be okay for you to bring Y/N home? I know itâs too much to askââ
âIâll bring her home. Itâs not too much, donât worry,â Sunghoon reassured, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. âWâwhatâs her address?â it never occurred to Sunghoon that, one day, he would not know where you lived, that you were no longer the girl that lived next to his house. The girl that had once taken over his life was no longer a part of it. That, to him, was a tough pill to swallow.
âIâll send it to you in a second, Iâm almost done booking the cab,â Yunjin was feverishly tapping her screen, her eyebrows knitted together. âYou drove here, right?â
âI did,â
âSmart decision,â she muttered, finalising her booking with one last tap. âThe cabâs arriving in ten minutes and I just sent her address to you. Donât worry about us, it isnât our first time, we know how to deal with them. Get her home safe, and you, get home safe too,â
âYou sure youâll be okay?â Sunghoon asked once more, casting a worried glance over at the two men who couldnât even keep their balance sitting up.Â
âBetter than okay. Now, go get her home, weâll be fine.â
Sunghoon drove his car to the front of the club, and with the help of your two friends, you were loaded into the passenger seat with ease. By then, you were half awake from your sleep, the unfamiliar settings causing you to become much alert. You sat up from the seat a little too quick, an honest mistake which brought a throb to your head.Â
âJust sleep, itâll hurt less,âÂ
That voice. How and why was it so close to you? Whose car were you in? Could it be �
âSunghoon?â
You blinked hard, trying to get rid of the haziness and the blur in your vision. It didnât need a second thought for you to know itâs Sunghoon. From his voice to his outline, even the midst of it all, you could always recognize the boy you knew your whole life.Â
âDonât act so surprised. Iâm just trying to help,â he replied flatly, keeping his eyes ahead.Â
âI thought youâd rather die than help me,â
âWell, thatâs what you think. Youâre not always right,âÂ
You didnât say anything after, letting a curtain of silence fall over, it was better for you and him. You could barely keep your eyes open, the heaviness of your head only made you feel much nauseous than before. It was more ironic how the reason you drown yourself in alcohol was sitting next to you, driving you home with no single trace of alcohol in his blood unlike you. Maybe you were the pathetic one here.
The drive back to your place was quiet, the faint music from his radio was playing to fill the awkwardness between you two. How did it even get to this point in the first place? You wished you knew. Sunghoonâs car eventually came to a stop right by the entrance of your apartment complex, the silence somehow only grew thicker now that the car has stopped moving.Â
âWeâre here,â Sunghoon announced the obvious, attempting to cut through the silence with something rather than nothing. âDo you need me to walk you up?â
âIâll be fine on my own,â
âYou donât really look fine,â
âThanks for your concern, but Iâm fine, and thanks for the ride home. Iâll see you at training,â you reached for the handle, pulling it and opening the door, one foot already out, but the other lost its footing and you stumbled, a hand gripping onto your forearm was what prevented you from falling face first into the hard road. Sunghoon yanked you back into the passenger seat, and you were too surprised to utter another word. Damn it.Â
âYouâre clearly not fine on your own. Let me walk you up,â he said with a finality in his voice. You knew there was no way for you to reject his offer now that you had embarrassed yourself while you tried proving your point. âYouâre still not good at walking in heels after all these years, huh?â
âWhatââ
He had slammed his side of the door into your face and your unfinished response. You didnât have the time to process everything when Sunghoon appeared by you in a split second, your door was opened and he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. It was irritating and extremely annoying to you how he was practically almost impossible to read around you. You knew him too well, and that was probably the reason why he increased his guard when it came to you.
âHold onto me,â he extended his arm, and you couldnât explain why, but your heart rate was increasing with every passing second. His head tilted slightly at your hesitance, a minor frown decorated his features at your reaction. âWhat is it?â
âOhânothing,â you shook your nerves off. Since when were you ever scared of Sunghoon? Let alone be nervous around him. You mightâve not been friends but it doesnât make him any scarier. In that light, in that moment, you got a glimpse of the Sunghoon you knew years ago. That was what made you freeze up.
You placed your hand on his forearm, using him for support as you got out of his car, the piercing pain in your foot caused you to wince. Youâre still not good at walking in heels after all these years, huh? Why must he always be right about you? âWhat is it?â he noticed your discomfort, worry flashing across his face for a moment.Â
âItâs nothing, just my heelsââ
âSit back,â he placed a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back into the passenger seat. He took one glance at you, there was an unmistakable mix of emotions in his eyes, but then he was out of your sight, opening the door of his backseat to get something.Â
Once he was back, he knelt on one knee in front of you, not a single word was exchanged, but you followed his every movement. He had a pair of shoes in his hand, it was only a beat later when he stared up at you, meeting your curious eyes. âWhen are you going to stop pushing me away and pretend itâs nothing when you need help?â
Sunghoon reached for your leg, unbuckling your heels in a swift motion, his touch was soft and he was gentle with you in every way. The shock from earlier till now had only caused you to sober up quicker, but the haziness in your head made you wonder if this was just a dream. He was right in front of you, swapping your heels for a comfortable pair of shoes, helping you into them as you watched wordlessly.
âThere. Feel better now?â Sunghoon stood up, holding onto your heels in one hand. Truthfully, you didn't know what to say to him, merely nodding in response. He breathed out a rather loud sigh, extending his arm out to you once more, and you immediately got the cue to hold onto him just like before.
Your first step out onto the ground was heaven in those comfortable shoes. They were large and awkward for you, but they were miles better than your heels. âJust hold onto me. I know you probably can't walk straight now,â
You bit back a remark to that, wanting to prove him wrong but you figured it'd be another stupid idea of yours. Holding onto his forearm just like before, you walked quietly with him by your side. You were unconsciously leaning your side onto him, the realisation mightâve not hit you, but it did for him. This was the closest youâve been since six years ago, physically and emotionally.Â
The silence was painful leading up to the moment you opened your front door, hoping to bid him a hasty goodbye, just for you to almost stumble over your own two feet once more, proving his point was right all over again. Sunghoon didnât complain when he helped you out of his shoes, he didnât say anything even when he guided you into your bedroom where you crashed out once your head hit the pillow. How was that possible? That was what Sunghoon thought upon seeing your sleeping figure.
âSunghoon,â he nearly jumped at the sound of your voice that was muffled by your face being pressed into your bedsheets. Your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed with a slight frown as if there were many thoughts swarming your drunken mind. He didnât dare to speak or make another move, waiting for what you would say next with an unsteady breath. You shifted in your sleep, your hand seemingly balling into a fist. âIâm sorry,â the words were hardly audible, yet in the silence of the night and the heat of it all, it was the loudest and clearest to Sunghoon, they were the only thing buzzing in his ears along with the sound of his heartbeat.
A faint smile that he hasnât worn around you in ages made its way to his face. Although Sunghoon knew you would most likely have forgotten about this and have zero recollection of uttering the words âIâm sorryâ when morning comes, there was still a sense of assurance that the chances of reconciling werenât completely zero. He breathed out a small sigh, realising he had to go back to pretending he hadnât heard your confession, having to act cold to one another as if it wasnât killing him internally. Were you feeling the same as he did?
Sunghoon tucked you into your blanket, casting one last glance at you sleeping soundly before turning his back to you, taking big steps to your bedroom door just for him to stop in his tracks at the glint of your photo frames. He knew he shouldnât pry, but he couldnât help stealing a glance. It was his first mistake, his curiosity had led him to the childhood pictures of you and him. You still had them after everything you went through with him. There was a lump in his throat, the sting in his eyes became much more prominent, a cluster of emotions were weighing down on him.
âIâm sorry too.â
âIs it me ⊠or is the mutual hating tension becoming awkward now?â
All of your teammates were huddled in a group, observing you and Sunghoon being forced to listen to your coachâs lecture for the hundredth time. It was the first training after your short weekend break, and that night alone has changed everything. Neither you nor him were at each other's throats anymore, there was no malice in the air or animosity, but there was still a striking tension that made everyone around you and him feel uncomfortable.Â
âWhat even happened that night?â Juyeon crossed his arms, frowning a little at the zero to none recollection of what happened that night all thanks to his reckless drinking.
âNothing much,â Yunjin said, her eyebrows raising at the sight of you and Sunghoon, choosing to keep your worries about him a secret.Â
Yujin coughed, displaying a deadpan expression. âWhat Juyeon probably meant was, what happened after? He sent her home, didnât he?â
âHe did, but I didnât hear what happened after,â
âTheyâre acting like theyâve fucked or something,â
âAnton!â the group averted their eyes at Anton, who seemed to have shrunk under the sharp glares sent by his teammates.Â
âWhat really happened after?â
If you were to receive at least a dollar for the times your coach has reprimanded you and Sunghoon, you wouldâve quit swimming and be a millionaire. This instance was the same as before where he called you and Sunghoon out on your lack of chemistry. He wasnât entirely wrong, and you could understand how it might affect the overall team chemistry, but what could you do? Make the first move? Insane.
âGuys, I know Iâve said this before, but youâve got to at least talk a little,â Coach Jeon let out a sigh, rubbing the sides of his head with his lips pressed into a thin line. âEveryone with eyes can tell you do not wish to be associated with each other or stand next to each otherââ his eyes were trained on the distance between you and Sunghoon. Upon realisation, the both of you took a step closer to each other, but it was not enough to mend it.
âJust try. Donât give the national team or yourselves bad press, alright?â Coach Jeonâs face was laced with genuine concern and worry. Given how long your relationship has been affecting the team, your coachâs worries only increased. âLook, either try to be on friendly terms before the Olympics or Iâll make it happen,â the latter sounded almost like a threat from the tone of his voice, sending chills down each of your spines. âDismissed.â
The moment your coach was out of ear shot, you turned to look at Sunghoon, narrowing your gaze accusingly at him. âDid you hear him? Weâve got to at least try speakingââ before you could manage to finish your sentence, Sunghoon scoffed and turned on his heels to leave the room.
You, on the other hand, were entirely dumbfounded by his sheer audacity. Was him helping you out that night merely a front that he kept up? He had transformed a total 180 compared to his previous attitude, this was not the same man who left you water and aspirin by your bed. âAsshole!â you shouted out at him as he made his way out, turning to leave from the other door to avoid following him.
The rest of your teammates that were huddled in a group still had their eyes fixated on the drama unfolding before them, most of which were shaking their heads in disapproval, some wandering eyes were trained on either one of your backs before disappearing completely behind the doors. Yunjin exchanged a brief glance with Yujin, a light bulb on the top of her head turning on.
âIâve got a way to get them to fix things up.â
The sun was soon setting as the evening came to an imminent end. You were the last to shower, being the only one left in the locker room, the sound of your locker door slamming shut echoed throughout the room. You took a seat on the bench, leaning your head against the lockers, a frustrated groan escaped your lips. You were annoyed, agitated at how Sunghoon had actively ignored you. Why was he acting like a total stranger to you? The least he couldâve done was spare some acknowledgement. Was he as cruel as you made him out to be?
You were pulled out of your deep thoughts the second you heard voices coming from the outside of the door. There was no way anyone would be catching you getting emotional over Sunghoonâexcept for Yunjinâonce was already enough, you blamed it on the influence of the alcohol. The voices only got louder as it came closer. There was a manâs voice, but also a woman, or actually, it sounded more like a group as you walked to the door, straining your ear to listen in on the commotion outside.
Before you could get any closer, the door flung open, causing you to take a step back in shock, mouth agape. The person being pushed into the locker room was no one other than the manifestation of your thoughts: Park Sunghoon. Just as quick as he was pushed in, the door slammed shut and there was a sound of the door locking.Â
âSort your shit out and weâll let you out in a few hours! Sorry!â
âWhat?âÂ
âWhat?â
You and Sunghoon yelled out simultaneously, absolutely incredulous this was befalling on you. Sunghoon, who happened to be unfortunate enough to be pushed into the locker room that you were alone in. This wasnât a coincidence, it was a strategic plan your teammates brewed up. The realisation clicked once you locked eyes with him, the adrenaline soon died down and the usual awkward tension returned.Â
The pettiness from earlier had you turning your back on him, storming towards the bench where you were sitting before your peace was ruined. Slow and hesitant footsteps followed you from behind, the heaviness of your breathing filled the air and you soon stopped in your tracks, the footsteps followed short. You turned around fast enough for you to have a whiplash, the man in front of you had kept a distance between you and him, the unspoken emotions were visible in the way he looked at you.
âAre we ever going to stop this?â the words had left his mouth before you could even form a proper thought, that alone was able to break down everything you had prepared to say beforehand.Â
âStopâwhat?â
âThis! Us!â he gestured between you and him, the distance was already proof of your coldness to one another. âAre we going to continue pretending everything is alright when itâs not?âÂ
âYou seriously have the nerve to say that after ignoring me for years, so yes, everything is fine! Itâs the way itâs supposed to be,â
âYou were ignoring me too!â
âI mean, you hate me, we canât stand each other, isnât that what everything is meant to be like?â
ââI hate youâ? Since when have I hated you?â Sunghoon scoffed, nostrils flaring, frown lines deepening.Â
âEver since our first competition after you transferred clubs. We stopped talking, you never bothered to look me in the eyes and brushed past me as if I was a stranger! I thought I could try apologising, but since then, all I could see in your eyes was anger,â your breath was shaky, the memories of your best friend becoming someone you couldnât recognise was painful to relive. âYou never told me your plans to leave, but you know what? I thought we were best friendsâŠâ
Sunghoon was silent for a moment, he opened his mouth to speak just for him to close it again, jaw clenched with a tense gaze. âI thought it was the right choice. I knew you wouldâve said no if I had told you earlier, so I chose not to. I didnât want to hurt you, but I suppose my judgments were wrong. I was a coward,â he paused, his eyes scanning every micro expression you made. âI never hated you. How could I ever? I was angry at myself. Seeing youâŠI was frustrated that I had let you go so easily. I thought you didnât wish to reconcile after you ignored me, I didnât know it was the opposite,â
You were still unresponsive, your pupils were shaking just as your breath began to waver. Sunghoon tried his best to muster the faintest of a soft smile, his knuckles were soon turning white from how hard he was balling his fists. âIâm sorry for saying those things that night. I shouldnât have disregarded our friendship over something so stupid. Iâm sorry, Y/N,â
With every blink, your eyes only stung from the tears building up. His confession as a whole made your heart twist, the overwhelming truth was eating you up from within. The explanation from him that you craved and yearned from years was finally here, but instead of feeling angry and wanting to punch him in the face like youâve always thought you would, you were the total opposite of that.
Tears were streaming down your face before you could fully comprehend you were crying. The lump in your throat was preventing you from speaking, a choke sob escaped and that wasnât helping your case at all. âFuck,â you cursed, feeling the heat creeping up to your face from embarrassment and you immediately buried your face into your hands.
âHey,â Sunghoon took large strides to get to you. You felt the warmth of his presence, the gentle touch of his hands that were on your arms, trying to pry them away from shielding your face. In that moment, you let yourself fall victim to him and his touch, feeling as if you had travelled back in time to when you first lost and Sunghoon was comforting you. âHey, look at me,â your eyes flitted up to meet his gaze, recognising the familiarity in them that youâve missed.Â
âWhat are you crying for?â his thumb brushed against your skin, wiping the downpour of tears.Â
âIâm sorry, Sunghoon, Iâm truly sorry. I feel stupid, I shouldnât have expected you to read minds, I shouldnât have blamed you for everythingââ
âHey,â he said once more, pulling your attention back onto him. âItâs alright. The both of us made mistakes, we were both in the wrong, none of us could blame the other. I know where youâre coming from, I understand,â
You blinked your tears away, breathing in deeply to stop yourself from crying yet again. âI wished we couldâve done this earlier. I wished I couldâve been less consumed by my anger. I lost many years without you, and most of all, I missed you,â
There was a twitch to the corners of Sunghoonâs lips, his hold on your hand became slightly tighter, and in a blink of an eye, he tugged you into his chest, engulfing you into a hug. Youâve missed this feeling, yet it felt completely new to you. âI missed you too. Iâm sorry for being such a stuck up asshole to you all the time,â
You snorted, smiling faintly against his hold. âYou better be sorry. Youâre forgiven,â
âYouâre forgiven too.â
Six years. That was how long youâve lost with each other. The amounts of competitions won, achievements and important events missed could no longer be replaced. But that day, in that locker room, you got a new chance at rebuilding the moments youâve lost in those six years, and you got a new beginning to build memories, even legacies, together that lasted for centuries.
Waking up to a message from Sunghoon on a Saturday morning was the last thing youâd expect.Â
Sure, you had made up with him not long before this, rather forcefully so, and you were glad it went well because you were done with your years of miscommunications with him, but after all, the wound was still fresh, the awkwardness and unfamiliarity was there between the both of you. You couldnât really speak to him without silence eventually following with nothing to say, nor could he keep a conversation with you fully either.Â
In your eyes, he looked like the person you knew for your whole life, physically unchanged, but at that moment, you didnât know what he was actually like anymore, whether he would laugh at the same joke you made or if heâd have the habit of repeating some words as he used to, all of those became a mystery to you. It hurts you to know youâve built a distance from him, causing the person you understood so well becoming someone youâre barely associated with.
Unknown number: this is Y/N, right? itâs Sunghoon. do you have time today?
You: hey, itâs Y/N. i do have time, iâm free for the whole day. why do you ask?
Sunghoon: iâm going home today, back to our hometown, iâm wondering if youâd like to come along? itâs okay if you decline though.
You: no, actually iâd like to come with you if you donât mind. thanks for asking me.Â
Sunghoon: iâll be at your house in an hour, eat something light, letâs get breakfast at our usual place.
Going back to the place that practically raised you along with the person that had been by your side since the start and growing up together with you was something youâd never once thought was possible in those six years apart, that was until now. It was a miracle that heâd willingly invited you to join him, and as much as you were relieved, you were also nervous, way too anxious for your own good.
For at least fifteen minutes after answering his texts, you paced back and forth in your apartment, conflicted about what to wear, the things you should bring, and even preparing what you could say to him once you saw him. This was a big step for not only you, but also him. It was a bandage that would heal the wounds caused by your dispute, a potential chance to restart the friendship and get closer to one another. Â
Seeing his car brought you back to the night he drove you home. An embarrassing realisation that you had was Sunghoon had to see you in your drunken state that couldn't keep yourself balanced on two feet. You disregarded that memory and entered his car, greeting him a good morning like you've grown to do at training.
âHungry?âÂ
âI'm alright, just had some bread,â
âGreat. It'll be an hour drive and we'll stop by our favourite restaurant, how does that sound?â
âI'm excited. I haven't been back in months,â
âWell, I think you'd like the new set they added in the menu.â
He remembered what you liked and hated? The biggest shock was realising he still ate at your favourite restaurant, taking note of an addition to the menu that he'd think you'd like. Did that mean he's kept you in his head even before your reconciliation?
Everything was confusing to you. He was confusing to you. It was absolutely frustrating. You shook off that feeling and stared out of the window, noting some landmarks that you remembered. It was the same route you'd take every time you went back to your hometown as well. You wondered how many times you've happened to cross paths on this route with Sunghoon in the past.Â
By taking advantage of the silence in the car, you decided to ask Sunghoon a question that's been eating you alive ever since you received his message. âWhy did you suddenly decide to go back at this time?â
Sunghoon didn't expect you to cut through the silence, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes upon the read ahead. He hummed thoughtfully, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.Â
âTo be honest, I've thought about it for quite some time already. I wanted to have a small getaway while being able to see my parents before going to Paris,â he paused for some time, the faint music coming from the radio played in the background. âIt's something that I do before major competitions. Visiting the old pool and seeing everyone again really calms me down a lot. I just thought it'll be a great opportunity to bring you along nowâŠâ now that we're somewhat friends again. That was probably what he wanted to say after judging from his hesitance.Â
âI never knew you went back so often,â you muttered, frowning at the fact that this was another thing that you failed to learn about Sunghoon. It was also another evidence of how your friendship was, in fact, in the ditch for a long period of time where you practically had zero idea of what the other was doing.
He maintained his focus on the road ahead, but you could see a small, ever so slightly of a smile forming on his face. At least you knew he was getting comfortable enough to not keep such a stoic expression around you like before. âIt's not that often. I will try to do it as much as I can, but it's hard. You know, my mum would ask your mum about you all the time, she just hides it from me,â
You snorted at that, yet internally, you felt touched at Mrs Park's concern for you even when you and her son stopped being friends. It was hard to avoid her whenever you went home considering she lived in the house next to your family. Not that you had ill intentions to dodge her, but seeing her after what went down, you didn't have the courage to face her. Mrs Park was relentless to say the least, she'd always find her way to speak to you no matter what, and sometimes, you could see how sorry she was from her eyes alone.
âI'm sure my mum does the same too and she just never tells me.â
The journey there didnât take long with several conversations here and there with Sunghoon, the small talks lasted longer than how it usually would, and that alone was saying something. There were some laughs shared together, in the midst of the moment, you couldnât help letting your gaze on his smile linger for more than a second. It was the first few times you got to see Sunghoon letting himself go around you just like old times.Â
Sunghoon wasnât kidding when he mentioned the first stop would be your favourite restaurant. It was surprising to see the restaurant again after almost a year of not dropping by. The times you went back to your hometown was to visit your parents only, there were barely any second thoughts about stopping to visit your favourite spots. Maybe it was also because you were scared to relive the best memories you had with Sunghoon and the only way was to avoid the places you created unforgettable moments with him.
âI havenât been here in forever,â you looked around at the unchanging interior of the restaurant, the walls were decorated with simple paintings and a picture of you and Sunghoon together with the restaurant owner. Beside that picture was another one that caught your eye instantly. Squinting, you realised that it was Sunghoon with the owner in more recent years, most likely a year ago. He really did come back to visit much more consistently than you, especially to the places you grew up going to together. âIs that you in the picture?â
Sunghoon raised his eyebrows, turning to follow your line of sight and realisation dawned on his face at the picture that was next to the old one of you and him. âOhâthat, yeah it is. It was taken a year ago. I only started coming back here last year. I was surprised she recognised me after all those years. It was quite awkward when she asked me about you though,â
âI can imagine,â you cringed at the image of people asking either one of you about the other, you've been so close since forever where everyone assumed you and him came in pairs. âI didnât think youâd come back here,âÂ
âWhy not?â
âDoesnât it remind you too much of us?â
Sunghoon smiled at that, a hint of curiosity sparked in your eyes at his reaction. âThatâs the reason why I came back actually ⊠regardless of what happened,â
You could sense some sadness in his voice when he said that despite wearing an unwavering smile. There was an odd feeling in your heart knowing that you were wrong all along. Sunghoon never hated you, not even once. In fact, he missed you just as much as you did, or more judging from what he'd said. Was it relief, regret or sadness that you felt?
âShould we order?â he noticed the solemness settling in your face, taking the initiative to change the subject and divert your attention away from your thoughts. âHow about we order our usual?â
âDo you still remember mine?â
âI do. I'd never forget anything about you.â
Every part of you was filled with nostalgia once you tasted the food you grew up eating. It was a shame your fear clouded you from coming back to the restaurant, you've missed it more than you expected. However, it was probably the best choice that you made unknowingly. It wouldn't have felt the same without Sunghoon. Eating the same food with the same person that you had done so years ago proved that you would've missed his presence if he wasn't there.
âYou two are going to the Olympics next month, right?â the restaurant owner, Mrs Kim, came by your table to check up on you and Sunghoon, who answered her question with a short 'yes'. She turned to you, and it was then you realised how much older she's gotten over the years of not seeing her. Time really has slipped through your fingers. âI haven't seen you in years. I was really happy to see you winning in the last Olympics,â
You bowed your head slightly, smiling at the fact that she remembered you even though you practically disappeared for a long period of time. âThank you. I really wished I got the time to stop by too,â
âIt's okay, you're probably busy, aren't you? It just makes me really, really happy to see you here with him now. I remember how you and him loved coming by to hang out and eat,â Mrs Kim reminisced thoughtfully, spreading the effect to you and possibly Sunghoon as well. She took a quick glance at the wall where your old picture was. âHow about we take a new photo? I'll make sure to stick it on the wall to show how much our Olympic medallists had grown,â
You and Sunghoon laughed awkwardly, but neither of you rejected her offer either. At the same spot in the restaurant where you stood years back, in the exact position standing beside Mrs Kim with Sunghoon to her right, you smiled at the camera, listening to the click coming from the phone as the picture was taken. As Mrs Kim ran to check on the pictures, you looked over at Sunghoon, meeting his eyes at once as he had already been staring at you before that.Â
It was unspoken, but you knew what he meant. This moment was something you and him both needed after everything that went down. It was a start over, a reflection on your past and reliving your memories. You were there then, also creating new memories for your future-self, looking back to feel nothing but relief that you and Sunghoon had patched up the cracks.
There was a small, genuine smile that crept onto your face. It was filled with nothing but sincere joy and relief. At that, Sunghoon reciprocated your smile, chuckling a little too. A wave of emotions flowed through the two of you in that instance, because you knew, there was nothing in this world that could ever take this moment away from you, never again.Â
The next stop right after breakfast was your parents' homes.Â
There was a sense of ease in the air ever since you left the restaurant. You and Sunghoon no longer were as tense as before, feeling rather comfortable in your own skin compared to the awkwardness you suffered from last time. Sunghoon couldn't hide his nervousness about going home, and if you thought about it too, you started feeling the same.
You didn't tell your parents you were visiting, after all it was an impromptu trip and you figured a surprise visit would be nice. 'Surprise' probably wouldn't be enough to describe your return together with Sunghoon. You doubted anyone could've seen this coming.
âLet's meet up after to get lunch, how does that sound?â Sunghoon and you were standing outside of his car that was parked on the sidewalk right by each of your houses.Â
âSounds good. I'll text you,â
âSure. I'll let you know when I'm done too,â he glanced over your shoulder, looking at his house before averting his gaze to yours. It didn't take long for you to piece together what was going through his mind. Memories of your childhood, that was most likely flooding his head. âSee you,â
âSee you in a while too.â
It was odd. Watching Sunghoon entering his home, you couldn't get yourself to enter yours. Not because you were scared of your parents whatsoever, it was mainly due to a weird feeling clouding your senses. Every moment, everything, from the restaurant up until standing on the sidewalk with Sunghoon, it reminded you of your past that you were reliving in the present, except you were much older and had different circumstances. Growing up was weird.
Your parents were definitely surprised to see you walking through the front door. Nevertheless, they engulfed you in a hug and asked about your sudden visit. Once you mentioned Sunghoon, their eyes almost popped out, and you had to explain everything from the start to the end.Â
âSo, I guess we're friends again,â
âOh, thank God,â your mother sighed dramatically, clutching onto her chest. You were already tired from her antics and it has only been an hour. âThank God you and Sunghoon are back to being friends. I was wondering if you two will ever talk again,â
âWe were almost never going to talk forever. Things weren't as smooth sailing in the beginning, but I'm glad we worked through it somehow,â you shrugged, lips flattening into a thin line.Â
âDid you know Sunghoon would always visit us whenever he's back here?â your dad chimed into the conversation, it was his turn to surprise you with something new that you never knew about, so you shook your head. âHe practically begged us not to tell you because he knew you'd be angry,âÂ
âHe did?â you breathed out in disbelief and shock, not expecting Sunghoon would go out of his way to visit your parents as well. All while you and him were on bad terms, that was way more than necessary. You felt yourself melting into the couch, another level of guilt built internally. âHe cared ⊠way more than I thought.â
The day eventually rolled by swiftly after eating lunch and an early dinner with both yours and Sunghoon's family. The two families hadn't had the chance to sit down and catch up together as a whole in years. It wasn't the same in those years of bad blood, and now that everything was back to the way it should be, you could tell both families were at peace just as much as you were. Inevitably, you had to bid them goodbye with a heavy heart, accepting their wishes for the Olympics and stealing one last look to remember the moment.
The evening sun was setting soon, the sky was painted a hue of orange and yellow. You missed the feeling of watching the sunset back at home. This time around, however, you didn't feel a sense of sadness in you anymore, unlike how you did in the past. The sun was disappearing from sight as you stared out of the window. Sunghoon was bringing you to the last spot that he'd usually go to during his routine visit: your old training centre.
You still remember the last few times you visited the training centre. Once was after the Tokyo Olympics where you and some of your other teammates that you trained with at your old club came to meet some of the young swimmers. There was the other time when you personally visited to see your old coach, having the chance to speak to him privately and you could still recall the unavoidable mention of Sunghoon.
There you were, years later, walking by him along the vast swimming pool that you trained in with Sunghoon growing up, watching evening training sessions of the youth swimmers. Eventually, you and him decided to take a seat in the stands, feeling worn out after a long day. You turned to him, unwavering eyes trained on his face. âIâm surprised you would visit everytime youâre here even though you transferred,â
âItâs where everything started,â he had his attention on the training session happening below, a smile filled with reminiscence of the past slowly crept onto his lips. âItâs where all my memories are. I could remember every little memory of us being here from years ago,â
âI suppose youâre right. Whenever Iâm here, I feel oddly nostalgic. Every part of the pool has a story behind it, thatâs how much time we spent here,â you hugged your arms around yourself, leaning forward to get a clearer look of the swimmersâ performances.Â
Sunghoon averted his gaze, turning to meet your eyes instead. There was a hint of fondness in those warm, brown irises that reflected a different version of you in them. They lingered for a beat longer before he finally spoke. âIâm glad youâre here with me this time,â there was no mistaking the sincereness in both his voice and his gaze, the truth of his was the same as how you felt. It truly was the closure that you and him needed. âYou have no idea how much I missed you whenever Iâm here,â
The edge of your mouth twitched, there was an unexplainable feeling in your heart, something that youâve experienced around Sunghoon one too many times back then and it seemed to have returned once more. âAnd you have no idea how I feel the same about you when Iâm here too.â
Going home, there was a much lighter atmosphere surrounding you and Sunghoon compared to before. You couldnât explain it, but you just knew the trust and love that had existed in the past was coming back stronger than ever. It was a day filled with nostalgia, reminiscence and also vulnerability. Youâd never thought youâd confess your inner thoughts to him until he did, being the first to open up and allowing you to realise he wasnât the bad guy that you made him out to be in your head. He was Park Sunghoon, the same as the one you grew up with, the first boy who showed you everything and made you feel emotions youâve never experienced.Â
He was your best friend. Yet, deep inside of you, you knew in those two words, âbest friendâ, there was something more than simply just that.
One month. 30 days.Â
The Paris Olympics seemed to be closer than imagined. From being a faraway dream to becoming a reality, the Olympics were the only thing clouding your thoughts day and night, just as it was for your teammates. You and your teammates have yet to stop pushing yourselves with the reminder of winning a gold medal, the weight of it made everyone tense and having a harder time to calm down.Â
âShould we get some drinks tonight?â Yunjin proposed at the end of the training, looking expectantly at every one of you. âItâs the weekend and we have some time off,â
âNo clubs please,â Anton threw his head back, dreading the thought of getting drunk at the club and being disoriented again, especially when the big day was coming.
âWho said weâll be going to the club?â Yunjinâs smirk was telling you that she had a grand idea brewing in her head already. âCome to my place. I have the best drinks to offer,â
The temptation of drinking somewhere other than the club was getting to you and the others. With the accumulated stress and endless training, all you wished for was a chance to let go even for only a second. Now that Yunjin had proposed an idea that was hard to reject, the devil on your shoulder was calling for you to agree.
âIâm down,â Sunghoon was the first to agree to Yunjinâs idea, his eyes immediately meeting yours when you looked over at him. He flashed you a faint smile, giving you a drinking gesture to which you rolled your eyes at.
âYou know what, me too,â Juyeon, who stood next to Sunghoon, threw his arm around Sunghoon, bouncing slightly on his heels. Following him, the others agreed too, and you inevitably went along.Â
âIâll pick you up,â Sunghoon said as he passed by you before disappearing with the guys to their locker rooms. Yunjin and Yujin were staring at you with a type of smile that you knew was up to no good.Â
âWhat?â you wrapped your towel around you and started making your way to the locker room as well, the other two running up to catch up with you.Â
âYou and Sunghoon have gotten really close,â Yunjin nudged you with her elbow.
âIsnât that what you all wanted? Since you locked me in a room with him,â you wiggled an accusatory finger at both Yunjin and Yujin who were equally guilty for conjuring up the idea and going along with it. âIs it supposed to be surprising that weâre close friends again?â
You remembered that day clearly and what exactly happened after. Once you made up with Sunghoon, you and him werenât freed from the room immediately as you wished for it to be. Instead, you were in there for over an hour, stuck with Sunghoon and having to converse with him even though he had just witnessed your breakdown in front of him. Admittedly, it was a great bonding time that did help in repairing your relationship, but you were still holding that grudge that your friends had run off to leave you fending for yourself in that locker room.
Thankfully, their efforts were not in vain. After that, you and Sunghoon became closer as each day passed by. Although it was a little awkward and tense at some points in time, you still managed to get over it, building back the friendship that you used to have together. You could tell Coach Jeon was much more relaxed than usual seeing you and Sunghoon talk and interact. Not to mention, the trip back to your hometown has made a monumental impact on you and him, getting the closure that the both of you needed and finally putting everything behind.Â
âWellâŠno,â Yujin interjected, a finger placed on her chin as if she was pondering deeply about something, then she turned to look at you sharply. âBut, what ifâŠâ
You pulled a face at her, absolutely confused at what she was trying to mean. âWhat if?â
âWhat if,â it was Yunjinâs turn to chime in, raising her eyebrows suggestively at you. âWhat if you and Sunghoonââ
âNever!â you blurted out, stopping Yunjin from finishing the sentence that you knew what was going to end with. That question has been asked ever since you were kids till your teen years, and you were getting deja vu at that moment. The thought of Sunghoon and you dating has always pulled a convulsive reaction out of you.
âWhat?â Yunjin and Yujin shrieked, halting in their steps which prompted you to follow suit, staring frantically at them as though youâve spoken a curse that had shook them.
âYou had Park Sunghoon wrapped around your little finger since you were a kid and you never onceânot even onceâthought about him in that sense? Do you know how popular he is?âÂ
You knew Sunghoon was popular ever since you were a kid. It didnât matter if it was in school, in the club or around your neighbourhood, his name had a reputation to it, the âcute swimmer boyâ was typically how people described him. The crushes people had on him were something you wished you would forget too, not because of jealousy whatsoever, but mainly because you were dragged into it for no reason at all.
âIâve never considered it before,â you said simply, avoiding their watchful gazes, but were met with doubtful looks from the two girls.Â
âNot even once?â
You swallowed, fidgeting with your towel and slowly losing your composure. There was a momentary pause that spoke more than words were needed, followed by an uncomfortable cough. âWellâŠmaybe once,â
âOkay. Just once?â Yunjin pressed on, a satisfactory smile appearing on her lips just as imaginary devil horns appeared on her head. She knew what she was doing.Â
âOr twiceâŠâÂ
âOnly?â
âIâm leaving!â you clutched onto your towel, not sparing your friends a single look before rushing towards the locker room. Your heartbeat was increasing at a concerning rate and it was not because you were speeding up your steps, but because of the thought of Sunghoon and your friendsâ questions. This was frustrating!
Yunjin and Yujin watched as you sped walked away from them with smiles on their faces, the identical ones they had while brewing up the plan to get you and Sunghoon back together. Well, that worked, didnât it? So, their next plan should be a guaranteed success.
âYou know what Iâm thinking?â
âI think I do.â
To your absolute dismay, the conversation you had with Yunjin and Yujin completely distracted you from that moment onwards. All you could think of was Sunghoon associated with the words âwhat ifâ when you were in the shower, locker room until seeing the man himself in his car. You listened to him talk with the soft music in the background, the ambience itself painted a picture where a new light was shone on him, the thoughts returning in no time.Â
You tried your best to avoid him when you had the chance at Yunjinâs place, taking every chance to distract yourself with your friendsâ conversations while chugging down some good beer. There were a few occasions where you felt Sunghoonâs lingering stare at you, locking eyes for several seconds before being the first to look away, heat gradually crawling up to your cheeks. Damn it, Yunjin and Yujin, why did they have to put this imagery into your head? Now you can't face Sunghoon like a normal person.
âWhy are you so quiet today?â
You were startled when you heard Sunghoonâs voice coming from behind you. It was right after midnight when you were sitting on one of the chairs in the balcony all by yourself, looking out at the city skyline with a half empty bottle of beer. Sunghoon made his presence known by taking a seat next to you, keeping his unwavering gaze at you, expecting an answer from you.
You. You were the reason. That was what you wouldâve said if you had the guts to be as bold as you wished to be. However, that was already reserved for the Olympics, so you couldnât bring yourself to be bold when it came to your true feelings. What were your true feelings in the first place?
âWhat? Oh, itâs nothing. I guess itâs just finally hitting me that the Olympics are soon. Itâs quite nerve wracking,â you were lying through your teeth, and there was a small chance he could see through you.
Sunghoon propped one hand on his knee, leaning a little close to you, his eyes trained onto your face, the scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of the beer lingered in the air between you and him. âYouâre nervous? The Y/N L/N is nervous? Thatâs something new,â
âQuit teasing,â you slapped his arm in a lighthearted manner, resisting the urge to smile when you saw his face lighting up. âEveryoneâs expectations are a heavy burden. Maybe I got older and became a little more aware of everything, but Iâm finally realising not only our country is placing their hopes on us, the entire team is too,â
The emotional side of you was making its appearance once more just as it always does when you drink. Last time it was about Sunghoon, and this time it was with Sunghoon, you should be proud of the progress. Taking a swig of your beer, you tried to hide your vulnerability by acting as casual as you could. It has been ages since you and Sunghoon had these types of conversations, especially now that youâve just recently patched things up, the last thing you wanted was to dump your worries on him.
âDo you still remember what they called us?â he placed his beer bottle onto the ground, the cool night air brushing against his hair, a slight tinge of pink painted on his cheeks from the alcohol in his system. You ignored how close he was to you, your knees brushing against one another at times, his cologne being the only thing you could breathe in, every single detail of his features being as clear as day in the night. ââNational treasuresâ. Thatâs what we are. That is what I think you are. Despite everything, whether it is losing or winning, itâs something nobody could ever take away from you. Take the burden and turn it into your strength. No one would blame you for any kinds of outcome,â
There was a beat of silence, you were blinking at him, absolutely lost for words. You were touched, the emotional imbalance wasnât helping either as it made you feel a bottle of surging emotions. Most importantly, you could feel your heart skipping a beat. Was that supposed to be normal? You ignored the telling signs, opting to feign nonchalance and breaking into a smile. âSince when did you get so matured?â
Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle, turning away from you to look at the night sky instead. He breathed in deeply, exhaling just a second after, a comfortable silence settled for a split moment. âWeâre the protagonists of the world,â he said without missing a beat, then he glanced back at you with a fiery spark in those brown irises of his. âThatâs what we used to tell each other, isnât it? So, whatâs stopping us from being that again?â
He remembered. He remembered everything. Every little detail that you thought to be too insignificant for him to recall, every small moments you had together, every word you said to him, he never once forgot them. There was a slight widening of your eyes as you processed what he just said, the realisation eventually pulled a laugh of amusement out of you, a sudden wave of reminiscence filled your heart up.Â
âYouâre right. Weâre born to be national treasures and the protagonists of the world. You and I.â
Landing in Paris was a dream come true.Â
Not only were you accompanied by the entirety of the national team, but you had your closest friends by your side, the anticipation for victories were apparent in every one of you. Yunjin and Yujin couldnât contain their excitement throughout the whole plane ride either. They were bugging you about the food choices available, the opening ceremony leading up to the design of the medals. It was a miracle you managed to sleep despite their constant bickerings.
âItâs really happening, isnât it?â Yunjin whispered to you as the team were en route to the Olympic Village.Â
âIt is. It truly is,â you had a dazed look in your eyes, the passing sceneries of the city mesmerised you with the reality of you actually being there gradually hit you. âA once in four years opportunity. It is our time now.â
Unpacking your luggage was a hefty job once youâve arrived at your assigned room in the village. You shared the lodging with your two best friends along with your other teammates from the swimming team, so there was nothing much to worry about except for the amount of gossip that would happen in that space alone. No matter how tired you all were, you had no choice but to power through it and get ready for the opening ceremony in the evening.
The opening ceremony was an unforgettable experience to say the least. You were dressed in a simple suit just as the others were too, the team uniform was the only thing taking up your line of sight as you stood on the boat that was cruising along the Seine River. Countless spectators were crowded on the bridge overlooking the river, waving to the boats passing by.
âI canât believe weâre on a boat. We didnât have this in Tokyo,â Yunjin whisper-shouted to you, recounting the opening ceremony back in Tokyo four years ago while waving the flag in her hand with great enthusiasm.Â
âItâs not everyday you get to be on a boat in some expensive suit in Paris,â you threw an arm around Yunjinâs shoulder, pulling her close to your side.Â
âAnd itâs not everyday youâre just casually participating in the Olympics,â Yujin added, doing the same to you and pulling you closer to her, eliciting a laugh from both you and Yunjin. It really was a miracle and a dream to have your best friends competing with you at such a big event, and that wasnât something anyone could just brag about.
Halfway through the boat ride, you managed to squeeze past many familiar faces from your national team, some were even athletes you looked up to, and it made you feel like a fan all over again. However, that wasnât your main goal for searching around the large boat. It was the person that came to your mind ever since you landed in Paris.
âSunghoon!âÂ
He turned around at the sound of your voice calling after him, his curious gaze landed on you, warmth and familiarity filled his eyes at the sight of you accompanied by a boyish smile he would have whenever he was with you. There was no way he could hide his excitement of seeing you from the way his eyes sparkled and crinkled at the sides, looking at you as if you were the only person in his field of vision.Â
âHey,â he breathed out once you reached his side, the both of you leaned against the railings and looked out at the river. âTired?â
âVery. Canât you tell Iâve put concealer over my dark circles? I think the jet lag might hit soon,â you dramatically pointed at your under eye area, the frown on your face only pulled a humorous laugh out of Sunghoon.Â
âRest up. Our first event is tomorrow,âÂ
âAlready?â you threw your head back, groaning at the thought of early morning training.Â
âCrazy, isnât it? I have back-to-back events too,â
âWho asked you to sign up for so many anyway?â you nudged his side teasingly, sharing a brief moment of eye contact.Â
âIâm very passionate about swimming,âÂ
âSure you are,â you snickered quietly at him, sharing the same smile he had on his face. Slowly, you turned to look at him, resting your elbow on the railing. âYouâre not pushing yourself too hard, right?â
He averted his gaze from the view in front of him, glancing at you instead and meeting your rather intense eyes that held a message that he knew to decipher before you could explain further. âDonât worry about me,â he said softly. There was a hint of hesitance in his movements for a split second, but then he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. âIâm really glad I got to spend this Olympic with you,â
Given the last Olympics in Tokyo where you and he were still in the cold war era, it never once occurred to you that youâve wasted a precious moment with him. It couldâve been a good memory where you experienced your first Olympics with the person thatâs been by your side since day one. Four years since then, in this present time, staring at his delicate features with a crowd cheering around you, there was nothing you would trade to replace this moment with him.Â
âIâm glad youâre here with me this time,â
His smile grew wider, eventually reaching his eyes that contained sparks which grew brighter as time passed. Your breath hitched, the air around you seemed to grow thicker, the breeze swept across your face, blowing against your hair. Yet, all you could do was be frozen in place, becoming much aware of the feeling of his skin on yours. How were you to explain the weird sensation of your heart tightening and racing quicker than normal? You were too young to experience cardiovascular diseases!Â
Something in you knew it wasnât symptoms of any heart diseases, it was the signs of love. That was much more frightening to you than anything else.Â
âAre youâŠokay? You dazed out for a bit,â he snapped his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back to reality after having an internal conflict with yourself.Â
âWhat? OhâIâm fine. Just a little jetlagged. I told you itâs setting in,â you laughed with a nervous undertone to it, trying to wave off any suspicion along with your own thoughts about Sunghoon.Â
âGet enough sleep tonight. Iâll be there rooting for you tomorrow. After all, your event is before mine, so Iâll be giving you my every support,â he squeezed your hand gently, unbeknownst to him, his action along with the feeling of it travelled to your heart, triggering it to thump harder against your chest. âYou better swim at your best, okay? Iâll always be able to see right through you,â
âI know youâ. You remembered it as clear as day, as though it happened just yesterday. Sunghoonâs words brought back the memory of what he had said to you during your first few altercations in training. It was a fact. There was no need for you to deny it or try to avoid that, because both you and Sunghoon knew, no matter what, youâd be able to see through one another and be the best judges of each otherâs performances. After all those years, this seemed to have not changed.
You scoffed lightheartedly, turning your face away from him for a moment to hide your flushed state before facing him once again, putting up a front of casualness. âWho are you? Coach Jeon?â
He snorted at the mention of your coach, shaking his head a little. âI think Coach Jeon would be pissed if you didnât do your best,â he was stating the obvious, considering your coach has the sharpest eyes when it comes to everyoneâs performances, there was no way anyone would dare to do so. Sunghoon raised his eyebrows at you, the slightest smile resting on his lips. âBut I donât think thatâll happen. Ever. Y/N L/N, the person I know my whole life, would never slack off or put zero effort into your swim. So, just do your best,â
âYou, do your best, too. Iâm hoping we can return home with medals around our necks,â
âOf course we are,â he said without any hesitation whatsoever, straightening his spine and wearing a confident smile, never once loosening his hold on your hand. You forgot Sunghoon tends to be the one who had more confidence than you before every competition. It has been that way ever since you were kids, and it seemed to have continued onto the present day. âDid you forget? Weâre national treasures. Weâll always bring a medal home. This time, however, itâs going to be gold,â
âYou better stick to your words,â you pointed a finger at him, the thought of winning the gold medal excited you, but it also scared you. To Sunghoon, it was just another challenge for him to tackle.Â
âI will, and you better give it your all to win that gold too. I want to win it together with you ⊠like how we used to.âÂ
Nostalgia was certainly dangerous. You couldnât help smiling at the mention of the past, thinking about the times you and Sunghoon won gold medals in your individual events. The pictures taken together with a gold medal hanging around each of your neck, smiling innocently with pure joy from winning resided in a thick photobook, becoming memories that you would never let go. It mightâve been different this time compared to the competitions from your childhood as it was the Olympics, the pressure and expectations were higher on you and him. Despite all that, the dynamic between you and Sunghoon remained the same.
Looking out at the Eiffel Tower in the distance, you realise this Olympics wasnât just a chance to fulfil your dreams, your countryâs expectations, but also the hope and dream you shared with Sunghoon since you were kids. The last Olympics mightâve not gone as well as you wished it had in terms of your friendship with Sunghoon, so this was a chance for you to turn things around. Not to mention, your inner voice bugged you constantly about your complicated feelings that have yet to have an answer. Now, that was another problem to solve.
First, youâve got to get that gold medal. Secondly, you must figure out your true feelings for your best friend. Between the two, the latter seemed much harder than the Olympic gold medal.
âYouâre telling me you thought of Sunghoon in a romantic way?â
Breaking the news while youâre warming up half an hour before the finals of your first event was probably the worst timing possible. It was even worse for Yujin and Yunjin who had just finished their semifinal round for their butterfly event.Â
Quite frankly, you couldnât blame yourself either. The thought of it was spilling at the seams since its first appearance prior to the Olympics. From that point onwards, it only seems to plague you further by taking over your mind. You were lucky you managed to make it to the top three out of the eight to qualify to the finals. The first day was already chaotic for you, to top it all off, you just couldnât avoid Sunghoon entirely and thus, the thoughts about him worsened.
âWell, correction, âthinkingâ, not âthoughtâ,â you said meekly, attempting to hide your face by stretching, but your two friends werenât letting you go easily.
âPresent tense?â Yujin shrieked, earning odd stares from reporters and other competitors around you. She pursed her lips, lowering her gaze before narrowing it at you. âSo, you do have feelings for him?â
âI donât know? Itâs not confirmed ⊠yet. I think?â
âYou havenât made up your mind yet,â Yunjin hummed, seemingly much calmer than Yujin from the looks of her demeanour. âYouâre in denial. I do think you have some feelings if you couldnât stop thinking about him,â
You stopped your actions, deciding you were done warming up, but remained motionless, a defeated sigh eventually left your lips. âWhat do I do?â
âOwn up to it. Face it,â Yunjin stated plainly, receiving a groan from you as a response.Â
âEasier said than done. The last thing I want to do is to ruin our friendship right after fixing it,âÂ
Yujin looked at you with the softest gaze, much rather in sympathy at your pathetic state. âThat wonât happen. How do you know itâs unrequited? What if Sunghoon feels the same way?â
âImpossible,â
âHey! Donât make any conclusions before knowing the truth,â Yunjin landed a smack to the back of your head, and as much as you knew you deserved that wake up call, you still hissed at the sting.
âYouâre right. I think Iâm overcomplicating everything,â
âYou are,â Yujin was straightforward, even if her honest truth was a cut to the skin, her rubbing your back in reassurance was a way to patch the wound. âHow about we have a debrief tonight at dinner? You should be focusing on whatâs much more important now,â
âThe fucking finals, Y/N! The 400m freestyle finals! Youâre against Ledecky, you should be more worried about her than Sunghoon,â Yunjin surely made a point, and it did help in giving you additional assurance.Â
You couldnât resist laughing, especially at their rather interesting way of encouragement and comfort. âLet's talk about this tonight then. Iâll make sure to swim my best later,â
âDuh, when will you ever not? Come on, Sunghoonâs 400m freestyle final is starting. Do you want to watch that or dodge him?â
âOf course Iâd want to watch it. After all, heâs still my best friend and I told him I'll be there to support him,â you remembered the unspoken promise you had with Sunghoon to win the gold medal together. With your first finals happening back-to-back, the desperation to achieve your life-long dream with each other had personally overwhelmed the thought of your nation placing their entire hope on your back.
Being at the poolside gave you a slap in the face with the reality that you were in the finals and you werenât hallucinating every part of it. You were with some of your other competitors for the finals, some were doing last warm-ups while some were sitting and waiting for the men to start their finals. You were one of those waiting for the event to begin. From the looks of your legs shaking, it was hard to determine who you were nervous for. Yourself or Sunghoon?Â
The swimmers soon take their places at their individual starting block. You could spot Coach Jeon giving Sunghoon some last minute advice before giving the boy an encouraging pat in the back, sending him off to his spot. At one point, you wondered if you were staring too intensely at the back of Sunghoonâs head. It was as if he could feel your stare and your presence simultaneously, opting to look over his shoulder instead of stretching like the other swimmers. One look was all it took for Sunghoon to spot you. He had the same spark in his eyes as the moment he saw you on the boat during the open ceremony.
His shoulders evidently sagged in relief. He breathed in deeply, followed by a striking smile that he casted specifically at you. In those years of competing together, you barely had times where your events were back-to-back, but whenever there were opportunities as such, either you or him would be relieved to see one another. Just one glance, and itâd calm your racing heart in no time. To you this time, however, instead of slowing down your beating heart, his presence only made your heart work ten times harder than usual.
Sunghoon had no choice but to take his eyes off of you once they gave out the signal to the swimmers to take their places on the starting block. Your eyes were trained solely on him, unable to tear them away from his figure as you watched him pull his goggles over his head. Quietly, and routinely, you prayed for the best.
There was a loud electronic beep that was followed by the swimmers diving into the pool, a sound of water splashing filled the arena and from that, the cheers increased by ten folds. You could barely breathe as you stared at the large projector that displayed the live televised scene of whatâs happening before you, giving everyone a much better view of the action in the pool.Â
Sunghoon was currently in a tight spot with both the German and Australian swimmers relentlessly chasing after the first place. There were times when the top three would overtake each other to secure the gold medal position just to fall back. It was only the second lap out of the eight, but you could feel yourself unconsciously gripping onto your chair tightly. To the spectators and fans, the thrill of the competition between the swimmers spurred them alive, the atmosphere in the arena became increasingly wilder from the shouts and cheers.
The swimmers completed each lap with vigour, swimming back and forth for eight laps without stopping for a second, the last lap was soon approaching once you saw Sunghoon kicked his feet off the wall, heading back to the starting spot for one last time. The underwater battle between him and the other two swimmers was becoming much more fierce, leaving the rest of the swimmers to trail behind them.Â
There was barely any gap between the three of them till the point where it became hard to determine who was in the lead. The tension was high, the fans in the crowd were shouting louder while waving the flags of their countries. You could hardly get your eyes off of the screen, the name of your best friend was displayed on the lane he was swimming in, the distance between them and the starting point was closer as each second passed.
Nobody dared to blink the next moment. Once their hands touched the walls, it was already the signal of the end. Every swimmer stopped once they had finished their lap, holding onto the edge and waiting for the results. The screams from the people watching in the stands became a hundred times louder when the leaderboard revealed the names of the top three winners. You averted your gaze to the three names, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of Sunghoonâs name sitting in second place.
The camera panned over to show Sunghoon on the screen. There was a hint of disappointment that was hard to hide, but you could tell he was trying to put on a smile. Losing the gold medal was frustrating, however, at the end of the day, he was still a winner of the silver medal, making him the first athlete to clinch an Olympic medal for the country this early on in the campaign.Â
The swimmers eventually got out of the pool, rushing to interviews or choosing to freshen up by changing into their tracksuits. The medalists were busy tending to the reporters and once they were done, they rushed off to change so that they could get ready for the award ceremony. That was when Coach Jeon approached you, reminding you that your own event was starting soon.Â
âReady?â he patted your shoulder, giving his best to offer any form of encouragement that seemed to not have successfully calmed you down entirely.Â
âNot really, but Iâll be okay,â
âJust remember what we always practised. Those months of hard work will not be in vain, you hear me? Go out there and prove to everyone that youâre Y/N L/N. The star swimmer of the national team.â
âY/N L/N, the star swimmer of the national teamâ. You never expected that the title which has been thrown around in headlines for years to finally become somewhat significant to you until this moment. You were in a designated staging room waiting for the award ceremony to end and at the same time, to get ready for yours. The small television screen in the corner of the wall was broadcasting the entirety of the ceremony, the commentatorsâ voices were drowned out by the chatters in the room, and your sole focus was on Sunghoon who stood behind the podium.Â
The moment his name was announced, he stepped onto the podium, accepting the silver medal that was hung around his neck. There was a small smile on his face as he waved to the crowds, a smile you knew very well whenever he wasnât fully satisfied with his own results. Apparently he hasnât changed much over the years when it comes to swimming.Â
âWeâre starting in five minutes!â
That reminder brought you back to your own reality that you had to face undoubtedly. The second the awards ceremony ended as fast as it had started, preparations for your event began and not long after that, the names of every competitor were announced in order. You walked out of the tunnel right as your name was called, the sound reverberated around the arena, the cheers that followed were loud enough to shake the ground of Paris. Youâve missed this feeling.
Standing before the pool with a large crowd was indeed nerve wracking after months of not competing and swimming in a pool with no spectators around. Even though you did swim with the crowd watching the day before for the preliminary round, you felt the difference at that moment knowing it was the finals. Everyone in that arena was placing their hopes on the athletes from their own countries, it was the same for you, but nothing could compare to how you and your competitors actually felt.
There was a buzz that signalled every one of you to take your places on the starting block. At that point, everything seems clearer to you. The water in the pool, the people in the crowd, your countryâs flag, all of them were the reason why you felt almost unbeatable, they gave you strength. The beeping sound of the countdown matched the rhythm of your heartbeat, ever so calmly and steady.Â
Just as it did for the finals prior to this one, the electronic beep sounded once more and you kicked off from your starting block, diving into the pool with nothing but the goal of finishing the eight laps in your mind. Time stood still, the only thing filling your vision was the bottom of the pool along with your competitors in your peripheral vision. You didnât know what was happening above the water or which place you were currently in, with every breath you inhaled, you wished time could stop for a second.Â
Every contact with the wall gave you a purpose to keep pushing forward. More than half of the eight laps were completed, all you needed was to push yourself further. It was hard being trapped with yourself and your own thoughts, the constant ideas of what would happen after this kept bugging you even as you swam. Time was, in fact, ticking. The eight laps were soon coming to an end. There was just one last lap from you and youâd be done.Â
The starting point seemed distant from your point of view. All you could wish for was your extended hand to quickly make contact with the wall. With every pump of your heart, you counted down to the moment youâve anticipated for. One, two, three âŠ
One slight graze of your finger against the wall marked the end of your lap. You grabbed onto the edge tightly, emerging to the surface of the water and inhaling a deep breath. Practically snatching your goggles off, your head snapped towards the direction of the leaderboard. Your name sat between the Australian and American swimmers.Â
Second place. 3 minutes and 58 seconds, only a second away from first place.
You shut your eyes for at least a few seconds, forcefully swallowing your disappointment down after as you congratulated your competitors. It was the first event out of the many you were competing in. You remained optimistic even as you answered questions from the reporters, though you wished they would cut down on the gold medal questions this early into the campaign.Â
On the way to the changing room, you spot a familiar face hanging around with your coach and several other of your teammates. The sight alone brought comfort to you and your heart, there was no chance of you resisting the urge to run up to them. Anton had already beaten you to it, being the first out of the group to spot you and practically shouting your name for the whole world to know.
âCongrats! You kept your spot in the 400m freestyle,â Anton wasted no time in giving you a one handed hug. The others followed too, giving you different variations of a hug.
âI wish I couldâve upgraded, you know?â
âItâs better than none, right? But I do know what you mean, and I believe youâve done your best,â Anton gave your shoulder a light squeeze, offering a warm smile.
âYou did good, Y/N. You were in great form today, but sometimes thereâll be people with better form. Donât let that get to you and focus on the next event, okay?â Coach Jeon patted you softly on your back, recognising the disappointment in your tone. âGo on and change up, the awards ceremony is soon. Letâs go and not bother Y/N first. Weâll see you later,â
Coach Jeon gave you one last pat on the back then left with the others trailing behind him, all of them cheering you on as they passed you. In the end, it was always your team whoâs your biggest support system. That has never changed over the years, and it would never change even for the future, you were very sure of that.Â
Amongst the group of your teammates who had already left, one happened to stay back and waited for the chance to speak to you alone. You didnât expect seeing this person would bring you more comfort after losing the lead. Not a hug or some encouraging words, his presence alone was what you needed in times like this, just the same as it was years ago.
âHey,â Sunghoon had his hands tucked into his pants, the silver medal was still hanging around his neck. You figured he had just finished taking pictures and was freshly done with the press conference. From the tiredness in his voice, you wished he had gone off to rest as well, but knowing him, he would rather see you first than do all that.
âHey,â you said back, letting him be the one to walk towards you and closing the gap. Pointing at the silver medal that he was sporting, you stared at him with a knowing smile. âYou better not beat yourself up over this,â you landed a firm punch to his shoulder, but unlike how he wouldâve usually reacted, he just accepted it with a grin growing on his lips, neither dodging or groaning from it. There was something so soft about his eyes that stared back at you, an unreadable mix of emotions that youâve never seen before reflected in his those brown irises.Â
âI wonât,â he chuckled, hands unknowingly reaching to touch his silver medal. âAfter all, this is only the beginning. Thereâll be a gold medal soon,â
âI need some of your confidence. Youâre always so certain about your goals and youâd end up achieving it,â you pointed out without a second thought, and you werenât exactly wrong either, earning an amused chuckle from him. âYou better let me wear the gold medal once you win it,â
âHey, didnât we have this conversation before? Weâre both winning the gold medal. Donât forget that,â he frowned at you, thick eyebrows knitting together and it only made you smile in endearment. âIâm not winning this without you. I want to achieve our dream together,â
âYouâre ridiculous,â you let out in disbelief, but from the look on Sunghoonâs face, you knew he was dead serious. Sunghoon was determined to achieve this goal with you no matter what, and he was going to succeed despite the circumstances. Just as youâve said, Sunghoon has always achieved his goals that he was certain of, this one was the same as the rest to him.
âYou said Iâm certain about my goals, so here I am. Iâm sure weâd win it. Together.âÂ
There was an overflowing amount of sureness in his conviction till the point where it had influenced you gradually. If there was one thing about Sunghoon, itâd be the fact that once heâs set his mind on something, heâd do anything to get it. You were just worried that mindset would wear him out in the long run if something didnât go his way.
âIâll hold you to it then,â
âHey Y/N! The ceremony is starting in five minutes! Go change up! Iâll see you out there,â the American swimmer who secured third place, Katie Ledecky, spotted you still unchanged and in your swimsuit.Â
âOhâalright! Thanks!â you waved at her, casting her an appreciative smile, and once she was out of sight, you turned back to Sunghoon, looking rather awkward at the sudden interruption. âI need to get goingââ
âRight. Iâm sorry for holding you up,â
âNo, itâs okay. Iâm ⊠really glad I got to see you before going out there. Iâm less nervous now,âÂ
âReally?â
âReally,â
A beat of silence filled the space between you right after. Internally, you were freaking out for admitting your thoughts so freely as youâve just done. What was Sunghoon going to think now that youâve said that? Would he interpret it as something else? What ifâ
âIâll get going now. See you after the ceremony,â
âSee you!â
There you went scurrying away from Sunghoon like a coward with your heart rate increasing, mentally cursing at yourself for your slip of a tongue. At any moment, you might as well confess your deeply hidden inner feelings to him. The gold medal, the pressure of winning and the expectations from everyone else could no longer amount to the stress of your true feelings towards Park Sunghoon.Â
Even as you stood on the podium with everyone watching, you couldnât bring yourself to take your mind off of Sunghoon. In the midst of the crowd, you could easily spot him together with your teammates. It was your moment, your victory, the few times you could call yourself a winner on a stage as big as this, but the only person you could think of was your best friend.Â
The same best friend that grew up watching movies at your house, sometimes staying up too late just because you couldn't stop talking and wishing the night would never end. He was your best friend who would tell you stories about how one day you'd both be competing at the Olympics, and he was the one who'd hold your hand whenever you felt overwhelmed no matter where you were.
You had always thought those weird feelings you'd have in your heart were common everytime he said something to you or whenever he held your hands. Never once you thought those nights you stayed up with him, lying on your bedroom floor, talking about your futures where you stared at him with something other than platonic love in your eyes was odd. You remembered the time he laughed so hard until his eyes turned crescent shaped, and that was when you felt your heart skipping a beat, not knowing this wasn't as common as it seemed.Â
It was not normal. None of those things were ever normal. All of them went flying over your head instead. In that moment, while the national anthem played in the background, you've come to finally realise you've always felt this way for Sunghoon since forever. Those years together were just you denying your feelings for him, avoiding the fear of ruining your friendship. Up until now, you still had that underlying fear especially with the fall out that happened. But your heart was screaming louder at you, clouding the fear and pushing you towards him.
With the applause and camera flashes going off, you forced a smile, the grip on the flowers and your medal tightened, because it finally dawned on you, the undeniable truth that you've suppressed for almost your life was emerging.Â
You're in love with Park Sunghoon.
Nothing has been the same for you ever since coming to terms with the realisation that you romantically loved Sunghoon.
Your friends could tell you were acting a little off that day when you won your first medal, barely able to swallow down your food during dinner as you talked about Sunghoon. Even though you initially shrugged it off by saying it was just jet lag, it didnât take long before you cracked and confessed the actual truth to your friends. Did they see it coming beforehand? Absolutely. Were they helpful? Not so. âJust tell himâ, âI think he feels the sameâ were the inputs from your friends that seemed to have made your head a mess.
Youâve always been brave. There were times where you had to face challenges thrown at you from every direction and somehow you managed to deal with them. For instance, you got through your injuries with courage and determination, nobody doubted that fact. But when it came to your feelings, bravery and determination was practically nonexistent, only quiet longing and pining existed.
âYou better not beat yourself up over this,â the familiar words coming from Sunghoon who appeared beside you almost made you jump in surprise.Â
Another silver medal won, another close chance to get gold, merely missing by a small margin. You wished to be as optimistic as you were at the beginning, but the disappointment seemed to have built up gradually. The reminder from Sunghoon made you smile upon realising that he had just repeated what you said to him before, it was a genuine smile unlike the one that you put on the podium.Â
âIâll try not to,â you removed the medal from your neck, clutching onto it in your hand. âAfter all, you did say a gold medal is coming soon, didnât you?â
âI did. Donât you remember weâre having the mixed medley relay in less than an hour?â
âRight. Our first event together,â your grip on your medal tightened unconsciously, the sudden awareness of your feelings towards him was causing your brain to haywire. Why now? âWe havenât competed together since we were fifteen,â
âI donât think they saw Iâm promising in mixed and men's medley,â he chuckled, shaking his head as he recalled the day he was announced to be replaced in the line up. âHow ironic it is that Iâm back to square one,â
âMust be fate, isnât it? The domino effect that led us here,â you marvelled at the fact that your reconciliation with Sunghoon happened at the cost of Yeonjunâs demise. Sunghoon seemed to have caught onto the gist of the meaning behind your words, shaking his head and laughing quietly.Â
âI hope Yeonjunâs doing fine,â
âHe is. Heâs just bummed that he had to miss the Olympics. Iâm surprised at how nonchalant he is about it though,âÂ
âMaybe, maybe not. Youâd never know. Anyway, I think we should get going, we need to get ready with the rest,â he gave your back a light pat, nodding his head over to where your coach and teammates stood, signalling for you to go there together. In less than thirty minutes, youâd be swimming in the mixed medley relay, not knowing what the outcome would be like against the other powerful teams, especially with Sunghoon as a replacement, it was impossible to predict anything.Â
âWhat do you think might happen?â You couldnât help wondering aloud as you and Sunghoon made your way, occasionally stealing glances at the pool where the current event was taking place. Â
âItâs hard to say. Iâve never done this before and making it to the finals was already a miracle for someone who has little experience like me. I just hope this will be the moment,â he had a small pensive frown, eyebrows furrowed as if he was fighting with his thoughts internally. You instantly knew what he meant by âthe momentâ, the silver medal in your hand somehow becoming heavier at the longing for your shared desire of winning the gold medal.
Despite the tense atmosphere with the pressure to win the gold medal, you managed to let out a genuine, carefree laugh, looping your arm around Sunghoonâs in the heat of the moment. Unbeknownst to you, he tensed for a second and his eyes were flickering in panic at your touch. You turned to look at him, a wide, infectious grin plastered on your face, reminding Sunghoon of many moments you shared with him in the past, feeling a sudden surge of deja vu but also an unfamiliar sensation gripping at his chest.Â
âWith us together, Iâm sure weâd be the protagonists of the world, like always.â
Walking out of the tunnel with you and your teammates names being announced to the whole arena to hear was a surreal moment. You had ignored the way your heart raced from the simplest action of holding Sunghoonâs hand for a split second when all of you raised your interlocked hands in greeting to the fans. It was torture to pretend you were completely normal even when Sunghoon casted you a smile right after you dropped your hands. It was almost as if he knew and was mocking you.
âAlright guys,â Anton started, taking the chance while all you were huddled together removing your tracksuits. âAfter our months of training together and from the results recorded each time, Iâm sure weâll be able to face this and get a medal home. Donât think much, weâre going to win this,â
Anton, being the groupâs hype man for every competition, didnât fail to restore the heavy atmosphere yet again. The rest of you smiled at his encouraging words that were filled with confidence, making quiet cheers and taking turns to give him a grateful pat in the back. There were some wishes of good luck and last encouragements shared around the group before Anton took his position on the starting block, being the first to begin for the backstroke leg in the relay.Â
The electronic buzz was no stranger to any of you by then. At the sound of it, every swimmer dived into the pool, swimming faced up with their arms moving in a windmill-like fashion. You could tell Yujin and Sunghoon were both holding their breaths, watching Anton and the two other swimmers fighting for the lead. Hell, you were too, wishing you could choose to close your eyes instead.
Before you knew it, Sunghoon was already making his way to the starting block to get in position. The time was ticking, you knew it was selfish but you couldnât help yourself from grasping onto his hand, stopping him in his steps, catching him off guard like a deer in headlights. âGood luck,â it was nothing much, a simple expression just like any other, yet you couldnât explain the reason why you had to tell it to him personally.
It wasnât obvious, but from the looks of his expressions softening, melting into a relieved smile as if a huge boulder had been taken off his shoulders, Sunghoon seemed to have needed to hear it from you just as much as you needed to tell it to him. âThank you. Really.â
You let go of his hand, watching as he took his position the same way as he had always done in practices. There was a sense of calmness around him. He fixed his swim cap once, pulling on his goggles after, strictly in a particular order that he followed since the start of his career. His small habits and the superstitions he believed in never changed even after all those years. Â
The moment Anton was nearing, Sunghoon dived into the pool. Your head snapped to the leaderboard displayed on the big screen, heart nearly stopping at the sight of the team being in first place at that moment. Yujin followed your sight, letting out a breath of disbelief. You turned to meet her eyes, exchanging a knowing look and placed your arms around the other. Nothing could compare to the anxiety you were feeling as the person who was going last.
Yujin was the next to dive into the pool after Sunghoon reached the starting point. He climbed out, absolutely drenched and breathing heavily from the swim. Anton went up to him and gave him a wordless squeeze to the shoulder, letting Sunghoon catch his breath first while they watched the scene unfolding before them.Â
Soon, it was your cue to get in position on the starting block. Anton patted your shoulder, saying a haste âgood luckâ once more as you made your way there. Sunghoon was quiet, he knew you more than anyone would, and in that exact second, he understood that you didnât need another word of encouragement. Instead, he held onto your hand, squeezing it tightly, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he nodded his head, a slight smile on his lips. That was truly all you needed from him.
The feeling when you pulled your goggles over your head, eyes facing straight on the water was simply unexplainable, complex even. It was the same as it had been for days, months, years, but this time, in this exact instant, why did everything feel different? Was it because of the lead and the pressure to uphold it as the person in the last leg? You shook away every one of those intrusive thoughts, focusing on Yujin getting closer.Â
Just as she got close enough, you knew it was your cue to dive into the pool, letting the water engulf you whole as you kicked your legs, propelling yourself upward to the surface. Your hands and legs were working in tandem, going over the limit to execute your best movement. Every intake of air was scarce, filling your lungs with the right amount as you turned your head each time.Â
Before you knew it, you had already reached one point, executing a swift flip turn, then you were swimming towards the starting point, towards the end of the relay. You had no idea what was happening above the water, whether or not you were still maintaining the lead, all you could was empty your mind and swim despite the tiredness wearing you down after having to compete in another event earlier on. You finally understood the struggles of having two finals in a day that your teammates would constantly complain about at that moment.Â
You didnât dare to move your head a single inch, maintaining the perfect position as you swam even though you were curious how far you were from the other end of the wall. Time was slow when you were the one swimming, the concept of everything happening around you was unknown to you. Your heart dropped to your stomach the second you felt your finger lightly brush against the wall, instantly gripping onto the edge with overwhelming suspense to know what the results were. You were holding your breath as you resurfaced, ears muffled for a split second before you were swarmed with your teammates who all crouched by you, barely having the chance to spare a glance at the leaderboard.
âWe won! We fucking won!â Yujin shouted, barely containing her emotions as tears started streaming down her face, swim cap gripped tightly in her hands.Â
âWe did it. Oh my God,â Anton exclaimed, letting his own emotions overwhelm him as he buried his face into his hands, not budging when Yujin wrapped her arms around him.
Sunghoon reached his hand out to you, his eyes were rimmed with a soft crimson hue, the redness highlighting the raw vulnerability within that he tried so hard to mask. The lashes glistened with unshed tears, and the whites of his eyes seemed to shimmer, revealing the depth of his unspoken feelings. Each blink threatened to spill over, this moment was what you and him have been waiting for. âWe finally did it. We made it.â
You accepted his hand, allowing him to help you out of the water, but before he could fully stand straight, you had already pounced on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. Sunghoon melted into your touch, holding you close to him with his arms around you with no space left for you to move. The leaderboard was turning blurry in your vision that was gradually filling with tears, your grip on him tightening and your head leaned onto his shoulder, tears mixing with the pool water on his skin.Â
He pulled away for a moment, hands still holding onto you, never wanting to let go for just a split second. There was nothing said, yet you could feel every emotion he was trying to convey through his eyes. Those shaking hands of his travelled from your waist to your face, cradling it in them, the softness of his palm pressed against your skin. It was fast, him leaning in to press a kiss that lasted longer than a second, the aftermath of it being you and him staring at each other with a mixed reaction of surprise and softness. Before you could say anything, he pulled you back into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tighter than ever.Â
The cheers around you were drowned out, the presence of the other swimmers were long forgotten, all you could think of was you and Sunghoon only. As you held onto each other as if there was no tomorrow, you never knew how impactful this win was to you and him. If either of you had won your first gold medal in your individual events, everything wouldâve turned out differently. But with this shared win, the long awaited gold medal win that you and him swore to achieve together, your dreams had come true, and it was done side by side.Â
Standing on the podium next to your teammates and most importantly, the person that youâve been through thick and thin with, receiving the gold medal that hung around your neck perfectly, you wondered if it was all a daydream. You reached for Sunghoonâs hand, slipping yours into his that he instinctively accepted, glancing at you with the widest smile in his face that was immediately burned into your brain, an image that was impossible to recreate. It was real, everything was real. The win, the feeling of victory, your unwavering feelings for the man that was holding onto your hand tightly, all of those were equally real.Â
âWhat should we do to celebrate?â Anton had his eyes glued on his gold medal the rest of the day, unable to store it away for just a second. Every one of you thought he mightâve already developed an attachment to it.
âSleep, rest. We still have our last day tomorrow,â Yujin let out a massive yawn, muscles worn out for the time being to even be able to muster any leftover energy. Unfortunately, you had no choice but to agree with her, the only one who seemed to have enough energy to celebrate was Anton.
âRight, the men and womenâs medley relay finals,â Anton murmured, his enthusiasm for a celebration was crushed after realising he still had one more event to go before being able to celebrate fully. âReady for another round, Sunghoon?â
Sunghoon, who only looked rather dreadful at the mention of their next and last event, showed a frown as a response, thinking about the possibilities that would emerge from the big event. âIâm scared. China and the US ⊠Franceââ
Anton, carefree as always, slapped Sunghoon in the back. âDonât be pessimistic, weâll be fine. Isnât that true, Y/N?â
You averted your attention away from the screen of your phone, looking up and unknowingly meeting Sunghoonâs eyes almost at once. It was unexpected, the intensity of his stare was all you needed to know that he had been stealing glances at you before this. The suddenness of it made you fluster for a second, nearly forgetting what Anton had just said. âYâyeah, you guys will be fine. The team medalled at the world championships anyway,â
âYou hear that? Donât worry about tomorrow. Letâs bask in the glory!â Anton threw his arms around Sunghoon, successfully stealing his attention and giving you a chance to look away, calming your heart that was beating out of control.Â
Taking down one challenge at a time for your forte. With a gold medal secured, youâve succeeded at the main task at hand. Now that your biggest obstacle was gone, there came another tumbling towards you: Park Sunghoon. You swore to yourself youâd get a gold medal first before dealing with that, and since youâve always been someone who stuck to your words, it seemed to have come to haunt you instead.
Mission âtell Sunghoon how you feelâ was about to be tougher and scarier, probably a much higher chance of a heartbreak than any competitions youâd have ever participated in.Â
Who wouldâve known that the Olympics had ended as fast as it started. One day you were just arriving at the village and the next thing you knew, youâre in the airport waiting for your flight home. Four medals won, a friendship mended, many unforgettable memories made, all of which happened in the course of a few months leading up to the Olympics and also the weeks that you spent in Paris.
âWhatâs in your mind?â Sunghoon crept up to the empty seat next to you in the lounge as everyone waited to board the flight. You turned your head to the direction of his voice, your body instantaneously reacting to him before your mind could fully process his presence.Â
âIâm just thinking about how quick this whole Olympics passed by,â you leaned your back onto the seat, Sunghoon following your action without removing his gaze on you.Â
âIsnât it crazy how training started a few months ago?â Sunghoon chuckled at the thought of his first day in a new team that totally freaked him out. That entire nonchalant persona he put on was a complete facade, though he would never admit it aloud. âAnd now youâre going home with four medals,â
âSays the man who has five,â you nudged his shoulder with yours in a lighthearted manner, exchanging a brief smile with him. âItâs weird how six years of us not talking feels like it never happened before, like it was some kind of blip in the matrix. Iâm glad weâre able to patch things up and go back to the way it was,â
âMe too. I missed this. I missed us,â it was odd, the way Sunghoon looked at you with emotions that youâd never seen, the vulnerability breaking through his voice, everything felt intimate, too intimate for just a simple conversation in the middle of an airport with everyone around. He took your hand and placed it in his, soft eyes crinkled in the corners with a gentle smile that he always had around you. âOnce weâre back home, how about you and I take a short trip to our hometown again? Just the both of us like the last time,â
Staring at him, you were quite stunned, blinking feverishly, and at the same time, the feelings that you tried to shake off so many times were returning at that exact second. âIâd love to. We can grab our favourite lunch set like always,âÂ
Sunghoon snorted, but he was nodding along despite the amusement. âYouâre right. We didnât get that when we were there that day,â
âI forgot! Plus, we had lunch with our family, Iâm sure the overdue reminiscing can wait for a little longer,â
âThat is why weâre going to go back for a week or more, do the things we always did and visit the places we went when we were kids,â Sunghoon snapped his fingers, staring at you with sparkling eyes. You could tell he really did miss home and his hometown with you in it. âDo you remember the secret hideout we had? The one in the park?â
âYou mean the swing?â you smiled at the mention of your shared memories, remembering bits and pieces of it that has yet to be brought up until then.
âYes, our swing,â Sunghoon enunciated the word âourâ, a cheeky grin plastered on his lips that told you he was about to say something abysmal. âI really want to go back to that spot with you. Do you still remember that one time you dragged me there at night sobbing because the coach said youâre off by two seconds?â
âOh my God, shut up,â you landed a hit on Sunghoonâs shoulder, the latter continued to laugh at the fond memory, ignoring your eye roll. His laughter and his smile that reached all the way up to his eyes made you feel fuzzy inside, the picture of it was eternally imprinted onto your mind. âI was such an overachiever,â
âYou still are,â he managed to say in between laughters, gradually settling down and unbeknownst to you, his shoulder was pressed against yours, the gap between you and him were becoming nonexistent. âThat is why youâre an Olympic champion,â
You shook your head, waving your hand at him. âPlease, donât flatter me and my ego,â
âItâs true! You really are amazing, you know that?â Sunghoon exclaimed, not a single trace of dishonesty was found in his words, his expressions showing genuinity. If he was able to read minds, he wouldâve heard your mind yelling at you right after that. You were short circuiting, unable to generate a response. âIn my whole life of knowing you, youâre truly one of the best, both in terms of swimming and simply as a person. Youâre smart, kind, talented aâand everything. Frankly, youâre my favourite person,âÂ
Are you in love with me? Because Iâm in love with you too. You wanted to spill that out of your mouth, vomit your inner thoughts and feelings that you held in for so long, wishing you could make it clear to him how you actually feel and stop yourself from continuously confusing everything. What did he mean by all of that? Was it a casual compliment? To you, none of that was casual and normal. What kind of signals was he trying to give?Â
âThank you,â you were breathless, simply because you were barely breathing and you had been holding your breath in ever since the start of his rant. âYâyouâre amazing too, really. Nobody could ever amount to you ⊠youâre my one and only,â was this a suitable time and place to confess your undying love for him, your childhood best friend that you had feelings for? In this airport filled with athletes, being in the city of love, with the clock ticking down to 11:11, you were about to do the unthinkable that youâve been overthinking for countless nights. âI have something to say, actually. Sunghoon, I actually am inââ
âGuys! Time to gather and board!â
F.M.L.
âWhat is it?â Sunghoon stared at you expectantly, eyebrows raised in suspense with a slight frown at the sudden interruption. You, on the other hand, were left with your mouth agape, confession cut short and the perfect timing that you deduced ended up being in vain. There was no way that this was reality. âY/N?â
âIâIâll tell you another day. We have to board,â you gripped onto the strap of your backpack tight enough to drain the blood from your knuckles. The disappointment was on par with the times you lost your lead.Â
âIs it something important?â
âWell, sort of? I guess it is,â
âThen you better remember to tell me when youâre ready, okay?â he wagged his finger at you, smiling softly as if he had noticed the drop in your face and was trying to assure you somehow.
âI will. Letâs get going now.â you patted his back, nodding over at the counter where the athletes were getting their tickets scanned and managing to divert his attention away.Â
âIâm in love with youâ. Itâs simple and straightforward, thereâs nothing hard about it for you to say, but why couldnât you tell him that? Even when you tried to do so, it ended up being in a pile of mess, leaving you dejected in the end.Â
Since when has loving your best friend become so hard? Youâve been doing it for the majority of your life, the only difference was that you were aware that itâs romantic now, so whatâs stopping you? Time? Or was it yourself? Maybe it's the fear of vulnerability that feels so heavy. Every shared laugh, every secret whispered in the dark, suddenly carries the weight of possibility. What if these feelings are too big to fit within the bounds of friendship? And yet, isn't love, in all its forms, worth the risk? Â
You were scared, scared of losing the person you just got back and also the possibility of loving someone who knew your strengths and weaknesses too well.
âYou never told me he tried to hit on you while we were there,â
It was the third day of your one week trip back to your hometown with Sunghoon. After the last two days of being stuck with your own families and having to entertain relatives who were too inquisitive, you and him finally got the chance to hang out together without any prying eyes. Getting out of the city once you were done with your public appearances was the perfect plan, it didnât take Sunghoon long before sending you a text telling you to pack your bags. If only he knew how relieved you felt seeing him pull up to your house like prince charming coming to save the day.
Sunghoon wasnât kidding when he mentioned about revisiting your secret hideout. It was right after dinner, the sun had set and the wind was cooler, Sunghoonâs jacket was wrapped around your body despite his constant nagging.  The night sky was littered with constellations of stars above you and Sunghoon, the two of you were sitting on the swings, the park was mostly empty except for a few lingering figures. Â
âI didnât think itâs important,â you muttered, holding onto the swing that youâve sat on ever since you were only a kid, specifically the right swing while Sunghoon occupied the left.Â
âIt is! Itâs literally Thomas Ceccon. Heâs Italian, tall and hotâŠâ Sunghoon trailed off at the sight of you staring at him with an expression of deadpan, clearly unimpressed.
âSounds like youâre the one with the crush instead,â
Sunghoon pressed his lips into a thin line, sighing out a rather loud and big breath. âWhatever. What Iâm trying to say is ⊠itâs just frustrating, okay? I mean, Iâve heard some things about him before that tells me he isnât the best person. Itâs like he thinks he has a chance or something. You donât even need that kind of attention. Youâre way too good for him,â he shifted his gaze, unable to look at you head-on.Â
You searched for his wandering eyes, the shock you experienced from his words and the harshness in his tone that you would seldom hear gave you a slight whiplash. Was he âŠ? Could it be? Jealousy? There was no way, or so you thought whenever you tried to convince yourself that your feelings were one-sided. The small hope burning internally sparked brighter, though the fear of letting yourself down if the truth turned out to be the opposite of what you wanted lingered. âYou worry too much. I donât think about him that way. I ⊠have someone else in mind anyway,â
âYou do?â his spine straightened immediately, head almost getting snapped from his neck at how quick he turned towards you, eyebrows raised so high they were almost touching his hairline.Â
You nodded, strangely calm and collected, unlike the usual jitters that youâd experienced around him whenever youâre close to revealing the truth. âSomeone who gets me, who knows how to make me laugh. Someone who sees me for who I really am,â you paused, your gaze steady. âBut I guess heâs just too oblivious to notice,â
Silence was what followed after, the suspenseful tension turning thicker by the minute. You watched his expressions being scrunched up in deep thought then changing into a mix of confusion that eventually morphed into realisation where he might begin to piece the little things together. âWhatânoâare you ⊠trying to sayââ
âForget it,â you blurted out, standing up from the swing, feeling your heart burning from your own fear and avoidant. You were close, so agonisingly close and yet, you couldnât bring yourself to face the possibilities of the aftermath. It was always you who chose to break your heart first.  Â
âNo, tell me,â Sunghoon got a hold of your wrist before you could get the chance to walk away, following you suit to stand and facing you straight, never once breaking his gaze that was locked onto yours. You were startled from the grip he had on you, the intensity he had in his eyes felt almost palpable, as if he were searching for the words that had lodged themselves in his throat. âTell me, am I the oblivious one? Is that what you think? Because Iâve been feeling like Iâm walking on eggshells around you, afraid to say what I really want. If youâre hinting at something, just say it. I canât keep pretending I donât care or be completely sane when I see some sleazy swimmer trying to approach you, it drives me crazy,âÂ
The heat of his gaze burned through the air between you and him, a mixture of vulnerability and determination that made it hard to look away. Every emotion he felt flickered across his featuresâfear, longing, and an urgent need for you to understand. It was as if, in that moment, the world around you and him faded, leaving only the raw connection pulsing in the space between your breaths.
âPlease, just tell me,â he urged, his voice low and urgent after seeing your silence. âI need to know if Iâm the one youâre talking about or if Iâve been chasing shadows all this time. Because if thereâs even a chance you mean me, then I canât just let this go,â He stepped closer, vulnerability etched on his face. âIâve been scared to say anything, afraid of ruining what we have. But I canât keep pretending I donât feel something more. So, just⊠say it. Please.â
âDo you really want to know?â you took a breath, your heart racing, knowing you were putting whatever it was about your friendship on the line. âBecause if I say it, things might change between us. Youâre my best friend ⊠and I just canât lose you like this,â
Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, evidently frustrated but trying his best to understand your fears. He could see right through you, you and him were alike in many ways, it didnât take long for him to realise you were scared of losing him again, because to him, that was his fear too. âGod, I hate that word,â
ââLoseâ?â
ââFriendâ,â Sunghoon practically spat out, the word alone was laced with distaste, his chest heaving. He took a step closer, his legs were feeling heavy, the weight pressing onto his chest was becoming apparent. You didnât budge even when his hands travelled to your face, palms rested on both sides of your cheeks. âCanât you see? Iâve laid my heart out for you,â
âThen letâs stop pretending,â you said, your voice was quiet but steady despite the storm in your heart. âItâs you, Sunghoon. Itâs always been you. Iâve tried to ignore it, to push it aside because I didnât want to risk what we have. But every time Iâm with you, itâs like nothing else matters. Iâm scared tooâterrified of losing you, but I canât hide my feelings anymore. You mean so much more to me than just a friend,â you poured out every single undying confession that you had hid as if your life depended on it, desperation and pining was overwhelming you as time passed. âIâm in love with you, Sunghoon, and for as long as I can remember, Iâve always loved you,âÂ
Sunghoonâs eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper shimmering in his gaze, he froze for a moment, his breath hitching as your words sank in. A rush of emotions flickered across his faceâshock, disbelief, and then a dawning realisation that made his heart race. He searched your eyes, looking for confirmation, as if needing to ensure that this wasnât some beautiful dream. A smile broke through the haze of confusion, a mix of relief and joy. âIâm glad ⊠because Iâve never once stopped loving you either,â
For a heartbeat, the world around you and him seemed to pause, your confession hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting your hearts. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, he closed the distance between the two of you even further, his hand remained gently cradling your face.
He leaned in, his breath warm against your lips. You felt your pulse quicken, anticipation and fear intertwining as you still couldnât believe this was actually happening. With a softness that took your breath away, he pressed his lips to yours. It was a tentative kiss at first, filled with all the unspoken words you and him both had held back for too long. But as you melted into each other, the kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more passionate, as if you and him were finally allowing yourselves to feel everything you had been denying.
In that moment, the weight of your fears and the uncertainty of the past faded away, leaving only the electric connection between you and Sunghoon, igniting a fire that had always been there, waiting for this moment to finally ignite.
It was unmistakable, the feeling of his smile against your lips, the same smile that you had kept in your mind ever since you were merely kids. Your best friend, your lover, was undeniably your soulmate, the boy who youâve loved since you were merely a kid had returned to your life as if it was fated for it to happen.Â
The smile was still present on his face even after he pulled away, the look in his eyes was enough to convey every emotion that he had. Foreheads resting against each other, breathless and overwhelmed by the intensity of what had just happened, Sunghoonâs eyes searched yours, a mix of wonder and disbelief lingering in the air between the both of you. He looked at you with such love, adoration and admiration as if you were his world, unaware how full his heart truly was.Â
âYou know, that day at the airport, remember the important thing I wanted to tell you?â you were the first to break the silence, hands resting on each of his shoulders, mainly for support knowing your knees were getting weaker as you continued to process what had just happened.Â
âI do,â
âI actually wanted to confess to you about how I feel,â
âReally? In the middle of the airport? L/N, you never fail to amuse me,â Sunghoon chuckled, his thumb caressing the expanse of your cheek. Another choke of laughter was pulled out from him when you attempted to land a punch on him.
âHey! I thought it was a good setting, the vibes were telling me so,â
His smile only widened, there was a sense of softness that he had in his eyes whenever he was around you, this was one of those instances. âI think I wouldnât have made it onto that flight if you pulled that on me. We wouldâve never made it home,â
âYouâre right. It really wouldâve been quite disastrous, wouldnât it? I never thought about the entire outcome,â
âI wouldnât complain spending a longer time in Paris with you,â he removed his forehead from yours, his features becoming much clearer under the glow of the streetlight. His expression softened, a seriousness returning as he took your hands in his. âThis feels right. Weâve been more than just friends for a while now, havenât we? â
âYeah,â you replied, your heart swelling with hope as you recalled every little, detailed moment with Sunghoon that made you rethink your life choices. âIt really does, â
A moment of silence hung between you and him, filled with the promise of something new and exciting. âSo⊠what do we do now?â you asked, a playful grin on your lips, eager to explore this new chapter together as you always did with him for most parts of your life.
He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your hand. âWell, I guess we figure it out together. No more hiding, right?â
âRight.â you agreed, your smile widening as you stepped into the unknown, hand in hand, ready to embrace whatever came next.Â
Under that night sky which you and Sunghoon had shared and walked under all your life, the two of you spent the rest of your time in that park in each othersâ presence, the air around had changed undoubtedly, but you and him were still the same, there was nothing that could possibly change when it came to the two of you.Â
The stars were shining brighter than usual, the moon was round and illuminated, the endless possibilities were now unfolding before you. With every shared laugh and whispered secret, the world around you felt alive, filled with promise and the magic of new beginnings. As you walked side by side, fingers intertwined, it was clear that this moment was just the beginning of a new path youâd be taking with him.
Under that vast expanse, you realised that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had each otherâtwo hearts that had always been drawn together. In the quiet of the night, surrounded by the glow of the universe, you felt a warmth blooming between you, a certainty that whatever the future held, you would face it together, side by side.
Two months.Â
That was how long it had been since that night you and Sunghoon got together officially, ending the lengthy and obvious tension that existed way before you and him became friends again. Since then, many things have changed and happened. Sunghoon had returned to train under his original coach, the teamâs success was celebrated by the nation from the point youâve returned from the Olympics and praise has yet to stop in the tabloid with the additional excitement for the swimming world cup. Not only that, you revealed your relationship with Sunghoon to friends and family, receiving exciting screams and some âI knew itâ that you shouldâve known was coming. Everything was finally perfectly in place.Â
Fast forward to the present day, you couldnât believe you were actually standing on top of the world. It was the last day of the final stop of the world cup, the aggregate points from all three separate stops were counted to determine the top three male and female swimmers. Safe to say, ever since the Olympics, your drive for success only came out stronger. It was your determination and headstrong personality that drove you past your limits to emerge as the champion of the world cup.Â
Walking out to the stage and accepting the medal was a surreal experience, you wished someone was there to pinch you and remind you none of it was a dream. Never once in the course of the past weeks have you expected yourself to come out in first place with the highest points. Here you were, standing on stage with your fellow swimmers, facing the fans and giving your speeches, proving yet again that you were indeed the ânational treasureâ.
At the thought of that name, your attention averted towards the stands, scanning through everyone to find the person that youâve been wishing to see most. Instead, a big sign that read âMY GFâS A WORLD CHAMPIONâ caught your eyes, the person that was holding onto it peeked out from behind the sign, revealing his true identity, bringing an amused smile onto your face. Park Sunghoon, your boyfriend who has forfeited the last stop for the sake of his health, had never once missed a single event that you were in. You dared to say that he was your biggest supporter, not only for this instance, but for the majority of your life.
As your eyes locked onto Sunghoonâs, the noise of the crowd faded into a soft hum, leaving only the warmth of his smile and the fluttering in your heart. You didnât need him close to feel his warmth, you could tell from the pride and affection hidden in his eyes that you were about to get the biggest hug when he got his hands on you. You raised a hand, waving enthusiastically, and he responded with a playful flourish of the sign, drawing laughter from those around him.Â
In that moment, everything felt right. The adrenaline from your win mixed with the comfort of his unwavering support, filling you with utmost comfort that you needed all along, making every sore limb and painful nights worth it. Even if you were out there alone, you knew, in the midst of every crowd, there always would be someone present, cheering for you no matter what the circumstances were.
That person would be Sunghoon. The man who you would call your best friend, your confidant, but also your lover. It mightâve taken a while to struggle past your differences and misunderstandings, yet, you managed against the tides washing over you and him, building a bond that surpassed everything. Not only was there trust and admiration, but an unmeasurable kind of love was formed. It would be eternal, an everlasting love that couldnât be washed away, leaving you and him together for as long as you lived.
( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen fanfics#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen drabbles#enhypen scenarios#enhypen smau#enhypen soft hours#enhypen x reader#enhypen fic#enhypen sunghoon#enha#engene#sunghoon#enhypen headcanons#enhypen reactions#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon imagines#park sunghoon#sunghoon drabbles#sunghoon headcanons#sunghoon au#enhypen au#enhypen oneshots#enhypen angst#sunghoon fanfic#sunghoon x you#sunghoon oneshots
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Second Heart
Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics
Lewis Hamilton x Senna!Reader
Summary: all youâve ever wanted was to be able to race just like your Papai ⊠no matter the cost (or in which always going for a gap that exists runs in the Senna family)
You sit cross-legged in front of the TV, shoulders hunched, the remote clutched tight in your little hand. The screen crackles, and there he is â Ayrton. Papai. His yellow helmet blazes under the bright afternoon sun, the car flying down the straight, smooth as a bird on water.
Your eyes donât blink. The sound of engines growls through the speakers, vibrating all the way to your heart. Itâs like heâs right there. Alive.
And so fast. So, so fast. You almost feel like youâre in the car with him, that if you close your eyes, you could taste the gasoline and the rubber, the wind whipping across your face.
âPapai âŠâ you whisper, pressing the volume button louder.
Adriane steps into the room, the clink of her bracelets soft but steady. She pauses when she sees you, arms crossed, one hip jutted out.
âI thought you were doing homework.â
You donât answer, too lost in the footage. The video cuts to a slow-motion shot of Ayrton weaving through the rain, tires spinning in the spray like magic. They call it genius â what he did at Monaco, at Suzuka, at Donington Park. To you, itâs just your Papai being Papai.
âTurn it off.â Your motherâs voice sharpens now. She hates it when you watch these tapes. Youâve heard her say it before, more times than you can count â Itâs not healthy. You shouldnât keep living in the past. But you donât feel like youâre living in the past. You feel like youâre meeting him for the first time, every time.
âJust five more minutes,â you plead without looking away.
âNo.â
âBut I-â
âI said no, agora!â
Her tone makes you flinch. The remote slips from your hand onto the floor with a dull thud. But you still canât tear your eyes from the screen, where Ayrtonâs car crosses the finish line, the Brazilian flag draped over his shoulders as the crowd roars. Your heart beats faster. Thereâs a strange energy in you, like the buzz before a storm. You push yourself up to your knees, your voice small but determined.
âI want to race.â
Adrianeâs laugh is immediate and sharp, like glass shattering. âDonât be silly.â
âIâm not being silly!â You twist around to look at her now, the words spilling out. âI wanna race, MĂŁe! Like Papai!â
Her face changes. The air shifts, heavy and strange. You see it happen â the tightness in her jaw, the way her smile falls away like it was never there.
âNo.â
âBut-â
âNo!â She snaps, louder this time, and it makes you shrink back. âAbsolutely not. Never.â
You bite your lip, feeling the burn at the back of your throat. But you donât stop. Not yet.
âWhy not?â You whisper.
Your mother exhales sharply through her nose, as if the question alone is an insult. She crosses the room in two quick strides, crouching down until her face is level with yours. Her hands, delicate but strong, grip your shoulders tighter than usual.
âBecause racing is dangerous,â she says, enunciating every word like sheâs trying to hammer them into your skull. âDo you understand me? Itâs not a game. It took your father from us.â
Her voice wavers on the last sentence, but you donât care. Thereâs something stubborn growing in you, something you donât quite recognize yet.
âPapai loved it.â
âAnd look where it got him,â she shoots back, her voice sharp as a knife.
You blink, stunned by the words. Sheâs never said it like that before. She sees your expression â hurt, confused â and her face softens, just for a second.
âSweetheart âŠâ She sighs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. âI know you miss him. I miss him too. Every single day. But I wonât let racing take you away from me.â
âBut it wonât-â
âEnough.â Her voice is final, the way grown-upsâ voices get when thereâs no more room for argument. âThis conversation is over.â
You open your mouth, then close it again. Sheâs already standing up, brushing invisible dust from her jeans. The TV hums in the background, the commentators babbling about pole positions and podiums.
Adriane snatches the remote from the floor and jabs the power button. The screen goes black, as if Papai never existed at all.
You feel hollow.
Your mother stands there for a moment, the silence thick between you. Then she crouches again, her hands cupping your face this time, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.
âListen to me.â Her voice is quieter now, almost pleading. âI lost your father. I canât-â She stops, swallows hard. âI canât lose you too. Okay?â
You donât nod. You donât speak. You just stare at her, your little heart breaking in ways you donât fully understand yet.
âIâm serious,â she whispers, her forehead resting against yours. âNo racing. Not ever.â
And then she kisses the top of your head, soft and lingering, as if that alone could erase the conversation, the dream, everything. She walks out of the room, her footsteps fading down the hall.
You sit there for a long time, staring at the blank TV screen, fists clenched in your lap. Your chest feels tight, like something inside you is being squeezed too hard.
You think about Papai. About how he smiled in the cockpit, how the car seemed to dance under his hands, how the crowd chanted his name like a song. He wasnât afraid.
And neither are you.
You pick up the remote again. Your thumb hovers over the play button, hesitant for just a moment. Then you press it.
The screen flickers back to life, and Ayrton is there, flying through the rain like a miracle.
You smile.
One day, you think.
One day, youâll race too.
***
The front door clicks shut behind you as you step into the house, dropping your school bag with a heavy thud. You bend down to untie your sneakers, already rehearsing what youâll tell your mom â how your science project earned a gold star, how you managed to trade a snack with JoĂŁo without getting caught. You have it all planned, down to the way youâll grin when she offers you that after-school snack.
But as soon as you straighten up, the voices hit you.
Loud. Sharp. Angry.
You freeze, one hand still on your shoelace.
âYou have no right â none â to tell me how to raise my daughter!â Your motherâs voice is sharp, like glass breaking. Sheâs in the living room. You canât see her from the hallway, but you donât need to. You can imagine her perfectly â the tight set of her mouth, the way her arms probably cross over her chest.
And then, another voice, familiar in a strange way. Low and hard. âIâm not telling you how to raise her, Adriane. Iâm telling you what she told me â how she called me crying because you refuse to let her chase the only thing sheâs ever wanted.â
Alain.
Your heart skips. You know him. Everyone knows him. Papaiâs fiercest rival â and, in the end, his friend. The man from the stories, from old photographs your mother keeps locked away. Alain, who came to the funeral and cried even when the cameras werenât on him.
Why is he here?
You step closer, drawn by their words like a thread pulling you tight. You press yourself against the wall and peek around the corner, just enough to see them.
Adriane stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed exactly like you pictured. Her blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, but her face is tight, her jaw locked in anger. Alain stands across from her, looking just as frustrated. His hands move as he talks, fast and insistent, like heâs trying to grab hold of the air between them and shape it into something that makes sense.
âSheâs seven!â Your mother snaps, her voice cracking at the edges. âShe doesnât understand what sheâs asking for.â
âShe understands better than you think,â Alain fires back. âShe understands perfectly. She called me in tears â tears, Adriane â because you shut her down without even listening.â
âI listened.â Her voice drops, low and furious. âAnd I said no.â
Alain scoffs, running a hand through his hair. âYou said no because youâre scared.â
Your motherâs eyes flash. âOf course Iâm scared! Sheâs my daughter! You, of all people, should understand-â
âI do understand.â Alainïżœïżœïżœs voice softens, but only just. âI carried his casket. I watched you cry over him. But thatâs exactly why you canât do this to her.â
Adrianeâs face crumples for a split second, so brief you might have missed it if you hadnât been watching so closely. âHeâs not here, Alain,â she whispers, and it sounds like a confession and an accusation all at once. âHeâs not here to see this, to say if itâs right or wrong. And heâs not here to save her if something goes wrong.â
Alainâs voice drops, steady and determined. âAnd you think Ayrton would want you to stop her? You think he would want her to live her whole life wrapped in fear because of what happened to him?â
âSheâs my child.â Adrianeâs voice cracks like a whip, but thereâs something desperate underneath it now, like sheâs fighting to keep her footing in a conversation she knows sheâs already losing. âAnd I will not lose her.â
Alainâs eyes narrow. âYouâre not protecting her. Youâre imprisoning her.â
Your mother stares at him, her breath coming fast and uneven. For a moment, everything goes still â so quiet you can hear the ticking of the old clock on the mantel.
Then Alain steps forward, his hands on his hips. âIf you wonât help her, I will. Iâll teach her to kart myself if I have to.â
Adriane barks out a bitter laugh, but itâs laced with pain. âYou can try,â she says, her voice brittle. âBut donât expect me to come watch. I refuse to set foot at a race, and I wonât look at her as long as I know thereâs a chance she wonât come back.â
Her words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. You feel like you canât breathe. You press yourself harder against the wall, your chest tight with emotions you canât name.
And thatâs when the floor creaks.
Both of them turn at the sound.
âMeu Deus âŠâ your mother whispers, her hands flying to her mouth. âYouâre home.â
Alainâs face softens instantly. He kneels down, arms open. âCome here, sweetheart.â
You hesitate, just for a moment. Then, without thinking, you bolt from your hiding spot and run straight into Alainâs arms. He catches you easily, wrapping you in a hug that feels like safety. Like warmth.
Adriane stands frozen, her hands still over her mouth. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mix of heartbreak and anger and something you donât fully understand.
Alain pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. âHey,â he says softly. âIâve got a question for you.â
You blink up at him, your heart pounding.
âHow would you like to come to Switzerland with me?â His voice is calm, but thereâs a flicker of something in his eyes. âYou could learn to kart there. Iâll teach you myself. What do you think?â
Your heart races. Switzerland. Karting. Learning to drive. It feels like a dream, one you didnât even know you could have.
But then you look at your mother.
Adrianeâs face is pale, her hands still clutched tight over her mouth like they might stop her from saying something sheâll regret. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and thereâs a kind of pain in them that makes your chest ache.
You know what this means to her. You know how much it hurts.
But you also know what it means to you.
Youâve wanted this for as long as you can remember â for as long as youâve been able to understand what racing is. And here it is, right in front of you. A chance.
You swallow hard and look back at Alain. His expression is kind but serious, like he knows exactly what youâre thinking.
âItâs your choice,â he says quietly. âNo one can make it for you.â
You take a deep breath. Your hands shake a little, but you ball them into fists to steady yourself.
âI want to go,â you whisper.
Your mother makes a soft, choked sound â like someone punched all the air out of her.
âMinha filha âŠâ Her voice breaks.
You look at her, and it feels like your heart is splitting in two. âI have to, MĂŁe.â
She closes her eyes, pressing her hands tighter to her face. For a moment, she just stands there, trembling. Then she drops her hands and wipes her eyes with quick, angry swipes.
âOkay,â she whispers, her voice raw and broken. âOkay. Go, then.â
The words sting, sharper than anything youâve ever felt. But you nod. You have to.
Alain gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze. âWeâll call every day,â he promises, glancing at Adriane, though she wonât look at him. âWhenever you want.â
Your mother doesnât answer. She just turns away, her shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on her.
Your heart feels heavy, but thereâs something else now too â something lighter. Hope.
You glance up at Alain, and he smiles, soft and warm.
âSwitzerland, huh?â You say, trying to sound brave.
Alain chuckles. âSwitzerland.â
And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you can finally breathe.
***
Life in Switzerland feels like a dream. Every morning, the mountains rise outside your window, peaks dusted in snow even as the spring sun warms the air. The international school Alain enrolled you in is small, the kids friendly. They speak a mix of languages â French, German, Italian â and though itâs strange at first, you like how every word feels like a little puzzle to solve.
But school is just the beginning of your day. The real magic happens afterward.
Every afternoon, Alain picks you up in his car â a sleek, silver Audi with leather seats that always smell faintly like coffee â and takes you straight to the karting track just outside town. Thereâs a rhythm to your days now: school, then the track, where the scent of gasoline and hot rubber fills the air.
âCome on, petite championne,â Alain says every day as you hop into the kart, the nickname slipping off his tongue with an easy smile. âLetâs see if you can make me proud today.â
The kart rumbles beneath you, a buzz that shoots from your hands to your heart. The moment your foot touches the pedal, the world falls away. The wind rushes against your face, the engine purring with every twist of the wheel.
Here, in the kart, you feel free â like nothing can catch you, not even the pieces of your life that feel too big or too broken to understand.
Alain watches from the sidelines, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his face calm but focused. He takes notes every time you race, shouting tips when you pull up to the pit lane.
âDonât wait so long to hit the brakes before that hairpin, you lose too much time,â heâll say. Or, âYouâre getting faster through the straights. Donât get greedy on the corners, though â youâve got to feel the grip.â
You listen to every word, hungry to learn. And when he grins after you complete a lap, clapping his hands like you just won a Grand Prix, your heart swells.
By the time you drive home, your body hums with exhaustion, but itâs the good kind â the kind that comes from chasing a dream.
And every night, after dinner, thereâs dessert.
âGlace au chocolat tonight?â Alain asks one evening, pulling two tubs of chocolate ice cream from the freezer.
You grin. âWith whipped cream?â
âObviously,â Alain replies with mock seriousness. âWhat kind of barbarian do you take me for?â
He adds a mountain of whipped cream to both bowls, handing one to you before plopping down on the couch with his own.
As always, an old race plays on the TV. Tonight, itâs Monaco â 1988, the race your father dominated, right up until the moment he crashed into the barrier. The screen flickers as the cars glide through the tight streets, their engines howling between the stone walls.
Alain leans back against the couch cushions, spoon in hand. âSee that?â He says, pointing at the screen with a mouthful of ice cream. âYour papaâs line through the Swimming Pool section â perfection. Like poetry in motion.â
You tilt your head, studying the way the yellow helmet zips through the narrow chicane. âHow did he do it?â
Alain smiles, scooping another spoonful of ice cream. âHe just knew. Ayrton could feel the track better than anyone else. It was like ⊠like he was connected to the car in a way no one else could be.â
You lick your spoon thoughtfully. âDid you hate him?â
The question catches Alain off guard. He freezes, then chuckles, shaking his head. âHate him? No.â He pauses. âNot really, anyway.â
âBut you fought a lot.â
âOh, we fought.â Alain smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye. âHe drove me absolutely mad sometimes.â
You giggle. âWhy?â
âBecause he never gave up. Not even for a second.â Alain gestures toward the TV, where your fatherâs car rockets through the tunnel. âAyrton wasnât just racing other drivers â he was racing himself. Always trying to be faster, better. It was exhausting.â
He says it like a joke, but thereâs warmth in his voice, too. You can hear it.
âAnd that drove you crazy?â You ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.
Alain laughs, a soft, fond sound. âCompletely crazy.â
You curl deeper into the couch, your ice cream bowl balanced on your lap. âBut you were friends, right? In the end?â
Alainâs smile fades a little, but it stays, softer now. âYeah,â he says quietly. âIn the end.â
Thereâs a silence between you, filled only by the hum of the TV and the occasional scrape of your spoons against the bowls.
You glance at Alain, his expression lost somewhere between memory and regret. âDo you miss him?â
Alain looks at you, and for a moment, youâre not sure if heâll answer. Then he gives a small nod. âEvery day.â
You nod, too, even though you didnât really know your father â at least, not in the way Alain did. But somehow, you miss him all the same.
The race continues on the screen, the cars weaving through the streets of Monaco, chasing the perfect lap.
âYouâll be just like him one day,â Alain says suddenly, breaking the quiet.
You blink, surprised. âYou think so?â
âI know so,â Alain replies, nudging your shoulder with his. âYouâve got the same fire in you. The same stubbornness, too, I think.â
You laugh, and Alain grins, pleased with himself.
âYou just need to tweak your braking,â he adds with a playful smirk. âYou brake like me, not like him.â
âHey!â You protest, shoving his arm lightly.
He chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. âWhat? Iâm just saying! Ayrton would fly into corners like a madman. Me? I was always a bit more ⊠sensible.â
âSensible is boring,â you tease, scooping up the last bit of ice cream.
Alain pretends to be offended, clutching his chest like youâve wounded him. âBoring? Sensible is what win me four world championships, thank you very much.â
You roll your eyes, but youâre grinning.
The credits for the race coverage roll, but neither of you makes a move to turn off the TV. These moments â curled up on the couch with Alain, the scent of whipped cream still in the air â feel like they could stretch forever.
And maybe, just maybe, they do.
***
Four years blur by like the laps on a familiar circuit. Days turn into months, and months into seasons. You grow taller, sharper, and faster. The kart becomes a second skin, every turn and apex something you know instinctively, like breathing. The track is your playground now â your sanctuary.
Alain teaches you everything: not just how to drive but how to think, how to be patient when you need to be and ruthless when the moment calls for it. He tells you about strategy and racecraft, how to listen for the slightest change in the engineâs pitch, how to make yourself invisible in the slipstream until the perfect moment to strike.
Some lessons come easy. Others, not so much. Like when he makes you practice for hours in the rain, your hands frozen, your kart slipping through puddles. Or when you spin out during a practice race and Alain doesnât even flinch. He just waves his hand in the air.
âAgain!â He shouts from the pit lane. âYou have to get comfortable with making mistakes, petite. No champion gets there without a few bruises.â
And so you go again. And again. Because this â this dream â is the one thing you want more than anything.
Now, after all those years, the day has finally arrived. Youâre old enough to compete in the FIA Karting Championship. This is what youâve been working toward.
But Alain surprises you one quiet evening at home. No ice cream, no old races on TV â just you and him, sitting across the kitchen table with two mugs of hot tea. His face is serious, but kind.
âThereâs something we need to talk about,â he says, tapping his fingers lightly against the mug. âYou have a choice to make.â
You lean forward. âWhat kind of choice?â
Alain tilts his head, his sharp hazel eyes studying you carefully. âYour name.â
You frown. âMy name?â
âYes. Youâve been racing locally for a while, but things are different now.â Alain takes a sip of tea, gathering his thoughts. âThe FIA Karting Championship is international. There will be journalists, scouts, team representatives. If you race under your real name, everyone will know exactly who you are.â
You sit back, the weight of what heâs saying slowly sinking in.
âYou can use a pseudonym if you want,â Alain continues. âPlenty of drivers do it, especially when they want to build their career on their own terms.â
You blink, caught off guard. Youâve thought a lot about racing â how fast you want to be, how badly you want to win. But this? The idea of hiding your name? Itâs a curveball you didnât see coming.
Alain gives you time to think, his hands wrapped loosely around his mug. âThereâs no shame in it, petite,â he says gently. âItâs not about denying who you are. Itâs about deciding how you want the world to see you.â
The words hang between you. Heâs not pressuring you â Alain never does that â but you can feel the weight of the decision anyway.
You toy with the edge of the mug in front of you, tracing the rim with your fingertip. âDo you think ⊠if I use my real name, people will only see Papai?â
Alain shrugs, but his expression is thoughtful. âSome will. There are people who wonât be able to separate you from Ayrton. Theyâll compare you to him before youâve even taken a proper lap.â
You nod slowly. Youâve known this would happen â how could you not? But hearing it out loud makes it more real.
âAt the same time,â Alain adds, âitâs not something to be ashamed of. Ayrton was ⊠well, he was Ayrton. If anyone has the right to be proud of their name, itâs you.â
You bite your lip, the edges of uncertainty fraying inside you. âWhat would you do?â
Alain smiles softly. âItâs not my decision to make, ma chĂ©rie. This is about you. Your future.â
You stare into your tea, watching the steam curl toward the ceiling like tiny ghosts. A part of you aches at the thought of hiding your fatherâs name â like youâd be denying him, pretending he didnât matter. But thereâs another part, quieter but insistent, that wants to know what itâs like to stand on your own. To earn your place without the shadow of a legend following you everywhere you go.
You tap your fingers against the table, the rhythm matching the beat of an engine in your mind. And then, suddenly, the answer clicks into place.
âI think âŠâ You take a deep breath. âI think I want to use a different name. Just for now.â
Alain raises his eyebrows, curious but approving. âYeah?â
âYeah.â You nod, more certain now. âItâs not because Iâm ashamed. Iâm not. I want people to know one day. Just ⊠not yet.â
Alain leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. âSo whatâs the plan?â
You grin, the excitement building in your chest. âIâll race under my motherâs last name. And when the timeâs right â maybe after I win a few championships â Iâll tell them.â
Alain chuckles, shaking his head. âYou think theyâll like the surprise?â
You laugh, a full, bright sound that feels like relief. âCan you imagine their faces?â
Alain grins, clearly amused. âI can already hear the headlines.â He adopts an exaggerated announcer voice: âThe karting prodigy who stunned the world by revealing sheâs Ayrton Sennaâs daughter!â
You burst out laughing, the tension from the conversation melting away. âTheyâll lose their minds!â
âAnd youâll love every second of it,â Alain adds with a knowing smirk.
You grin, unable to hide the spark of mischief in your eyes. âMaybe a little.â
He shakes his head fondly, ruffling your hair as he stands up from the table. âYouâre trouble, you know that?â
âComes with the territory,â you say, beaming.
Alain gathers the empty mugs and places them in the sink, still chuckling to himself. âWell, I think itâs a smart choice. Gives you time to find your own rhythm.â
You nod, feeling lighter than you have in days. âYeah. It feels right.â
Alain leans against the counter, crossing his arms as he looks at you. Thereâs pride in his eyes â quiet, steady, and unmistakable. âYour papa wouldâve been proud of you, too,â he says softly.
Your throat tightens, but you smile through it. âThanks, Alain.â
He nods once, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. âCome on,â he says, nudging his head toward the living room. âLetâs celebrate with some dessert. I think weâve got tarte au citron in the fridge.â
You follow him, your heart light and your steps easy. The road ahead is still long â there will be races, wins, and losses. But for the first time, it feels like itâs yours to drive.
And that? Thatâs the best feeling in the world.
***
The drive from Switzerland to Imola is quiet. You sit with your thoughts, the hum of the engine beneath you and the road stretching endlessly ahead. Alain offered to come with you, but you declined. This is something you need to do alone.
Itâs not that you didnât want his company, itâs just ⊠how do you explain to someone â even someone who knew your father so well â that you need to meet this place on your own terms?
For eighteen years, you told yourself you werenât ready. Maybe you never would be. But here you are, taking deep breaths as you steer your way closer to the circuit where it all ended. Where everything about your life changed before it even really began.
When you finally arrive, the gates to the Imola track feel strangely peaceful, nestled under a canopy of autumn leaves. The air is crisp, and the sky is that soft, pale blue you only get in early fall. You park the car and head toward the Ayrton Senna memorial, your footsteps crunching through the leaves littering the path.
Each step feels heavier than the last, your pulse loud in your ears. You try to steel yourself â this is just a monument, just a place. Youâve been to a thousand race tracks in your life. But this one is different. This one holds pieces of someone you never got the chance to know.
As you approach the monument, you expect silence. You expect to be alone. But then you notice someone sitting there â another figure crouched near the bronze statue of your father.
The man shifts, startled by the sound of your footsteps on the gravel. His head turns, and you recognize him almost immediately.
Itâs Lewis Hamilton.
He blinks up at you, clearly not expecting company either. Thereâs a moment of awkwardness, both of you standing there, caught off guard in a place meant for solitude.
You clear your throat. âIâm sorry,â you say softly. âI didnât mean to bother you.â
Lewis waves off the apology, his face softening. âNo, no. Youâre not bothering me.â He pulls himself up a little straighter, brushing leaves from his jacket. âI always stop by here before Monza. Helps me ⊠I donât know. Reset.â
You nod, unsure what else to say. Thereâs something strange about seeing him here â Lewis Hamilton, one of the biggest names in motorsport, sitting quietly in front of your fatherâs monument like heâs just another fan.
âI came for the same reason,â you admit. âIâm Brazilian. Wanted to pay my respects.â
At that, something shifts in Lewisâ expression â understanding, maybe. âYouâre Brazilian?â He repeats, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âThat explains it. Every Brazilian racer I know carries Senna with them like ⊠well, like a second heart.â
You laugh softly, kicking a stray leaf with your shoe. âYeah. That sounds about right.â
Lewis shifts, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks back at the monument. The wind stirs the leaves around your feet, scattering them across the ground.
âHeâs always been my hero,â Lewis murmurs, almost as if heâs talking to himself. âEven before I really understood what racing was, I just ⊠knew he was special.â
You donât respond right away, your gaze fixed on the familiar features of the bronze effigy â your fatherâs intense, focused expression captured in metal. Itâs strange, standing here with someone who feels the same reverence youâve always felt but never quite known how to express.
Lewis glances at you again. âWhat do you race?â He asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
You tuck your hands into your jacket pockets. âFormula Renault 3.5.â
His eyebrows lift, clearly impressed. âThatâs a serious series.â
You shrug, trying to play it cool, though thereâs a flicker of pride in your chest. âYeah, itâs been good so far.â
âGood enough to think about Formula 1 one day?â Lewis asks, a knowing smile on his face.
You grin. âThatâs the plan.â
He chuckles, the sound warm in the cool air. âWell, Iâll keep an eye out for you. Whatâs your name?â
For a split second, you hesitate. But you remind yourself â he doesnât need to know everything. Not yet. âJust ⊠Y/N,â you say casually. âFor now.â
Lewis tilts his head, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, but he doesnât press. âY/N. Got it.â
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure how to fill the silence. But itâs not uncomfortable â just ⊠quiet.
âYou said you come here every year?â You ask after a moment.
âBefore Monza, yeah,â Lewis confirms. âItâs become sort of a ritual. Helps me feel grounded, I guess. Reminds me why I do this.â
You nod, understanding more than you expected to. Thereâs something about this place â this simple, quiet memorial â that strips everything else away. The politics, the pressure, the noise. It leaves only the pure love of racing behind.
Lewis stands then, brushing dirt from his pants. âWell,â he says, âI should probably get going. Got a long weekend ahead.â
You nod, though part of you wishes you had a little more time to talk to him. Thereâs something easy about the way he carries himself â no arrogance, no pretense. Just a racer who loves what he does.
Lewis glances at the monument one last time, his gaze lingering on your fatherâs face. âHe wouldâve loved to see how many of us still race because of him,â he says quietly.
Your throat tightens, but you manage a small smile. âYeah. I think so, too.â
He gives you a nod, something warm and reassuring in his expression. âTake care, Y/N. Iâll be watching.â
With that, he turns and walks down the path, his footsteps crunching through the leaves. You watch him go, the wind stirring around you again, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and autumn.
For a long moment, you stay there, standing in front of the monument, just you and the bronze figure of your father. You donât say anything â thereâs nothing that needs to be said. But in the quiet, you feel a strange sense of peace.
Maybe itâs the years of racing, the laps youâve turned, the lessons youâve learned. Or maybe itâs just knowing that people like Lewis exist â people who carry your fatherâs spirit with them, even though they never knew him.
You brush a hand over the cool surface of the monument, tracing the edge of the plaque with your fingers. âIâm gonna make you proud,â you whisper.
And this time, you believe it.
The wind picks up again as you turn away from the monument, heading back toward the car. Monza is waiting. And so is the rest of your story.
***
The paddock feels like a world unto itself â buzzing with life, engines roaring in the distance, team personnel hurrying from garages to pit walls.
Youâre barely a day into your first GP2 weekend with DAMS, and itâs already overwhelming. The DAMS crew is friendly but businesslike, and the constant stream of engineers, mechanics, and journalists passing by your garage is a reminder that youâve officially stepped onto the big stage.
Your heart pounds as you adjust the collar of your race suit, nerves crawling under your skin. You spent the morning doing seat fittings, debriefs, and media duties, but now youâre finally free for a few minutes before the next round of meetings.
Alain walks beside you, calm and collected as ever, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Heâs been like a steady lighthouse in the chaos of this new chapter, guiding you through the storm with quiet assurance.
âRemember,â Alain says as you both weave through the paddock, âitâs just another race. Keep your focus. Donât let the noise get to you.â
âEasier said than done,â you mutter, scanning the sea of faces for anyone familiar â or anyone dangerous, like a journalist with too many questions.
Alain smirks knowingly. âThatâs why you have me.â
You canât help but grin, a flicker of relief easing the tension in your chest. Alainâs been by your side for so long now that the idea of navigating a race weekend without him feels unthinkable.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot someone you werenât expecting: Lewis.
Heâs walking toward the McLaren motorhome, surrounded by team personnel and a PR officer trailing closely behind, clipboard in hand. You see the moment recognition flickers in his eyes â he stops mid-step, gaze locking on you like heâs just solved a puzzle.
âY/N?â He calls, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Alain glances sideways at you, bemused, but you canât help the small, slightly guilty smile tugging at your lips. You wave at Lewis, feeling a little awkward but genuinely happy to see him.
Lewis strides over, his PR officer groaning softly but trailing after him anyway. âI thought Iâd see you around here eventually,â Lewis says with a grin. âDidnât think it would be so soon.â
You shrug, playing it casual. âSurprise.â
His eyes flick to Alain, standing quietly beside you. âAnd you ⊠know Alain Prost?â
Alain raises a polite eyebrow, but thereâs an amused glint in his eye, as if waiting to see how youâll answer this one.
You shift on your feet, aware of Lewisâ confusion. âYeah, heâs ⊠been my mentor for years.â You keep your explanation vague, not ready to drop the full truth just yet.
Lewis frowns slightly, processing the unexpected connection. âYouâve been working with Alain Prost?â
You nod. âSince I was a kid.â
Lewis lets out a low whistle, looking between the two of you with new appreciation. âWow. That explains a lot.â
Before you can respond, his PR officer steps in, clipboard clutched tightly in one hand. âLewis, we really need to-â
Lewis waves her off without breaking eye contact with you. âFive more minutes. Itâs fine.â
The woman hesitates, then sighs in frustration and backs away to give him space. Lewis turns his full attention back to you, his easy grin returning.
âSo, GP2, huh?â He asks, hands on his hips. âHowâs it feel to finally be here?â
âTerrifying,â you admit with a laugh. âBut also kind of amazing.â
âThatâs how you know youâre in the right place,â Lewis says, his tone encouraging. âThe nerves mean you care.â
Alain watches the exchange quietly, and you can tell heâs measuring Lewis, sizing him up â not in a competitive way, but in that protective way heâs always had with you. Itâs subtle, but you know Alain well enough to see it.
âIâll make sure to catch the feature race,â Lewis promises, his grin widening. âIâll be cheering you on.â
You raise an eyebrow, trying not to show how much that means to you. âOh yeah? You sure you have time to slum it with us junior drivers?â
Lewis laughs, genuinely amused. âCome on, now. I started in GP2, remember? I know exactly how tough it is.â
âGuess Iâll have to put on a good show, then.â
âYou better,â Lewis says, mock-serious. âOtherwise Iâll never let you hear the end of it.â
The two of you share a quick, easy laugh, and for a moment the chaos of the paddock fades into the background. Itâs just two drivers, standing in the middle of it all, sharing a moment of understanding.
âYouâre going to crush it,â Lewis adds, his voice low and certain.
Something in his tone makes you believe it â makes the nerves that have been simmering all day settle, if only for a moment.
Alain clears his throat softly, a reminder that time is ticking. âWe need to get back to the team,â he says, his voice gentle but firm.
Lewis nods, taking the hint but not before offering you one last smile. âGood luck, Y/N. Iâll see you out there.â
You return the smile, feeling lighter than you have all day. âThanks, Lewis.â
He gives Alain a respectful nod before turning to leave, his McLaren team falling into step around him as he disappears into the paddock.
As you watch him go, Alain leans in slightly, his voice quiet but laced with amusement. âFriend of yours?â
You smirk, still watching Lewis disappear into the crowd. âSomething like that.â
Alain chuckles, and the sound is warm, familiar â like the engine note of a car youâve driven a thousand times.
âCome on,â he says, nudging your shoulder gently. âWe have work to do.â
You follow Alain back toward the DAMS garage, the nerves still there but tempered now with something else â excitement, anticipation, maybe even a little confidence.
Because this is your moment. Your chance to show the world what you can do. And with people like Alain and Lewis in your corner, you know youâre not facing it alone.
***
The Bahrain sun beats down relentlessly, the heat pressing against your skin even through your race suit. Sweat clings to your brow, mixing with the overwhelming, heady cocktail of fuel, rubber, and victory. Youâre breathless, exhausted â but none of that matters.
You did it. You won.
The feature race trophy feels almost weightless in your hands as you stand on the podium, the sound of the Brazilian anthem thundering in your ears. The cameras flash, the crowd cheers, and for the first time since you entered GP2, you allow yourself to savor the moment. You close your eyes for a second, letting the anthem sink deep into your bones, and think of your father.
When the rose water sprays, it feels like youâve broken through a barrier â proof to yourself and to the world that you belong here. That youâre not just someone chasing the shadow of a name, but a racer in your own right.
The post-race chaos is a blur â interviews, debriefs, more interviews. Itâs not until youâre finally allowed to step away from the DAMS garage, damp with sweat and floral liquid, that the realization hits you again: you won your first GP2 race. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but beneath it, thereâs a quiet hum of contentment.
You round the corner of the paddock, searching for a quiet moment to collect yourself â when a familiar voice calls your name.
âY/N!â
You turn, and there he is: Lewis, dressed casually in his McLaren team kit, that signature grin stretched across his face. His eyes are bright under the paddock lights, and his presence feels like a cool breeze against the heat of Bahrain.
Before you can say anything, heâs already jogging up to you, wrapping you in a quick, spontaneous hug. The smell of his cologne lingers in the air between you â spicy and warm, like cedar and citrus.
âThat was incredible!â Lewis says, pulling back to look at you. âSeriously, you drove like a pro out there.â
You grin, still catching your breath. âYou saw the whole race?â
âOf course I did.â He says it like itâs obvious, as if there was no way he could have missed it. âI told you Iâd be cheering you on, didnât I?â
âGuess I didnât disappoint, then,â you say, teasing.
âNot even a little.â His grin softens into something warmer, more personal.
The way he looks at you â like heâs genuinely proud â makes your chest tighten, but not in a bad way. Itâs strange, but comforting, the way heâs here, grounding you in the whirlwind of it all.
âCome on,â Lewis says, gesturing toward the paddock hospitality area. âYou deserve a proper celebration. Weâll grab something to drink, at least â water, preferably, because you look like youâre about to melt.â
You laugh. âThanks for the concern, but Iâm not passing out just yet.â
âStill,â he insists, walking beside you. âGotta take care of the winner, right?â
You follow him, your steps lighter than theyâve felt all weekend. Itâs easy with Lewis â talking, walking, just existing in the same space. You canât tell if itâs the lingering buzz of the win or something else entirely, but thereâs a sense of ease between you that you havenât felt with anyone in a long time.
He leads you to one of the quieter corners of the paddock, where a small group of McLaren personnel are relaxing. Lewis grabs two water bottles from a nearby cooler and tosses one your way.
âCatch.â
You catch it easily, the cool plastic a relief against your palm. âThanks.â
Lewis leans against the back of a chair, his posture relaxed, but thereâs a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. âSo ⊠how does it feel?â
âTo win?â You twist the cap off your bottle and take a sip. âLike ⊠I donât know. Like I can finally breathe again.â
He nods, like he knows exactly what you mean. âFirst winâs always special. But thereâll be more. I can feel it.â
You tilt your head, amused. âYou think youâre a psychic now?â
Lewis chuckles. âNope. Just good at spotting talent.â
You roll your eyes playfully, but thereâs no denying the warmth his words spark inside you. You glance away for a moment, trying to shake the strange flutter in your chest.
âSo,â he says after a beat, âwhatâs next? A second win in Spain?â
âI mean, thatâd be nice,â you say, grinning. âBut Iâll settle for finishing with all my wheels intact.â
âGood plan,â Lewis agrees, laughing. âThat trackâs a nightmare.â
The conversation drifts easily from there, flowing from racing to random paddock gossip to stories from his early days in GP2. Youâre both standing close â closer than two people probably need to stand. But it doesnât feel uncomfortable. In fact, it feels ⊠nice.
He pauses for a second, watching you with that thoughtful expression he gets sometimes, like heâs trying to figure out whatâs going on beneath the surface.
âYouâre really something, you know that?â He says softly, almost like itâs just for you to hear.
The words catch you off guard, and you feel your cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze.
âJust doing my best,â you say, trying to play it off, but your voice sounds quieter than you intended.
Lewisâ eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and thereâs a flicker of something between you â something unspoken, but not unwelcome.
Before either of you can say anything more, a loud cheer erupts from a nearby group of mechanics, jolting you both back to the present. You laugh, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.
âGuess the celebrationâs already started,â you say, motioning toward the rowdy crowd.
Lewis grins. âLooks like it. You coming?â
You hesitate, not because you donât want to celebrate, but because part of you likes this quiet bubble you and Lewis have found.
âI think I might stay here for a bit,â you say, leaning against the wall and taking another sip of water.
Lewis doesnât move to leave. Instead, he stays where he is, like maybe he feels the same pull to stay in this moment, too.
âYou know,â he says after a beat, his voice low and a little more serious, âI meant what I said earlier. About you being something special.â
You meet his gaze, and thereâs no teasing in his expression now â just quiet sincerity.
âThanks,â you say softly, the word not nearly enough to convey what youâre feeling.
He holds your gaze for a second longer, then gives you a small, crooked smile. âGuess Iâll just have to keep watching and see what you do next.â
âGuess so.â
And just like that, the air shifts between you â charged with possibility, like the moment before a green flag drops.
You donât know whatâs coming next, but for the first time in a long time, youâre not afraid of it. Not when Lewis is standing here, smiling at you like youâre the most interesting thing in the world.
And somehow, you think, this might just be the start of something worth chasing.
***
Itâs late in the evening, and the Monaco paddock has fallen into a rare lull. The energy of race day â mechanics scrambling, journalists hounding drivers, engines screaming â has settled into a quiet hum. Most people have retreated to their yachts or hotel rooms by now, leaving only the occasional team member wandering through the maze of garages and hospitality areas.
You sit with Lewis on the edge of the harbor, the two of you tucked away from prying eyes. The water laps gently against the docks, and the principalityâs golden lights reflect across the surface like scattered coins. Neither of you say anything for a while, content to let the quiet fill the spaces between you.
Itâs been like this more often lately â stolen moments between races, conversations that drift into the small hours of the morning, and the unspoken pull that keeps you near each other, even when thereâs no real reason to be.
Lewis shifts beside you, resting his forearms on his knees. âYou ever just sit somewhere and wonder how the hell you got here?â He asks, breaking the silence.
You glance at him, the glow of the streetlights catching the sharp angles of his face. âAll the time.â
He gives a small laugh, running a hand over his braids. âMonacoâs something else, isnât it?â
You nod, hugging your knees to your chest. âFeels like the kind of place people dream about ⊠like itâs not even real.â
He looks over at you then, his gaze lingering a moment too long. âYeah,â he murmurs, almost to himself. âNot sure whatâs real sometimes.â
Thereâs something heavy in his voice, something unspoken. And for the first time tonight, the quiet between you doesnât feel as comfortable. It feels loaded, like youâre both waiting for the other to say something neither of you know how to say.
You tilt your head slightly, studying him. âYou okay?â
Lewis exhales slowly, glancing out over the water. âCan I tell you something?â
âOf course.â
He hesitates, like heâs not sure how to begin. âIâve been thinking a lot lately ⊠about the future. About what I want, and where I want to be.â
You shift closer to him, sensing that this isnât just idle talk. âWhat do you mean?â
He leans back on his hands, staring at the water like it might hold the answer. âIâve been with McLaren my whole career. Since I was a kid. But ⊠I donât know. Lately, it feels like Iâm stuck. Like Iâve hit a wall.â
You frown. âWhat are you saying?â
He looks at you then, and thereâs something raw in his expression â something vulnerable. âIâve decided to leave McLaren at the end of the season. Iâm signing with Mercedes.â
The words hang in the air between you, heavy and unexpected. You blink, trying to process what he just said. âMercedes?â
He nods slowly. âYeah.â
âBut ⊠McLarenâs your home.â
Lewis shrugs, but thereâs a sadness in his eyes. âIt was. But things change. And if I donât take this chance now ⊠I think Iâll always wonder what couldâve been.â
You stare at him, your mind spinning. âDo people know yet?â
He shakes his head. âNot many. Just a few people on the team. I wanted to tell you before it got out, though.â
You chew on your bottom lip, absorbing the weight of his words. âThatâs a big decision, Lewis.â
âI know.â He looks at you, his gaze steady. âBut it feels like the right one. Even if itâs scary as hell.â
You let out a breath, feeling a strange mix of emotions â pride, worry, something you canât quite name. âWell ⊠if itâs what you want, I guess itâs the right move.â
He smiles, but itâs a small, almost hesitant thing. âThanks.â
The silence stretches between you again, but this time it feels different. Like something has shifted â not just because of what he said, but because of the way heâs looking at you now.
âYouâve been there for me a lot lately,â he says softly. âI donât think Iâve said how much that means to me.â
Your heart beats a little faster. âItâs no big deal.â
âIt is to me.â His voice is low, and thereâs something in his gaze that makes your breath catch.
He shifts slightly closer, and suddenly the space between you feels impossibly small. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, the subtle brush of his shoulder against yours.
âY/N,â he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.
You look up at him, and the world seems to narrow down to just this â just the two of you, sitting on the edge of the harbor, the night air thick with something electric.
And then, slowly â almost hesitantly â he leans in.
For a split second, you think about pulling away, about the million reasons why this might not be a good idea. But before you can overthink it, his lips brush against yours.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like heâs waiting to see if youâll pull away. But when you donât, he deepens it, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face.
Itâs not the kind of kiss that demands anything â itâs the kind that promises everything.
When you finally pull back, your heart is racing, and your mind feels like itâs spinning in a thousand different directions.
Lewis looks at you, his forehead resting gently against yours. âIâve been wanting to do that for a while,â he admits, his breath warm against your skin.
You smile, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief. âYeah?â
He nods, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. âYeah.â
For a moment, neither of you move, caught in the quiet aftermath of the kiss. The world around you feels distant, like itâs just the two of you, floating in your own little bubble.
Finally, Lewis pulls back slightly, though his hand lingers on your face. âSo ⊠what now?â
You let out a soft laugh, the sound light and easy. âI have no idea.â
He grins, and itâs the kind of smile that makes your chest feel warm. âGuess weâll figure it out, then.â
You nod, your heart still racing. âYeah. I guess we will.â
And somehow, even though nothing feels certain â his future, your career, whatever this thing is between you â thereâs a strange sense of peace in the not knowing.
Because whatever happens next, you know youâll face it together.
***
The air in the McLaren garage is thick with anticipation. Cameras are set up, media personnel are adjusting their equipment, and thereâs a palpable buzz in the air as the press conference prepares to start. You stand just behind the curtain, your heart racing. You can hear the hum of voices in the room beyond, reporters murmuring to one another, waiting for the big reveal.
The past few months have felt like a whirlwind â a blur of contract negotiations, meetings with McLarenâs team principal, and the quiet, creeping excitement of finally getting the chance to do what youâve always dreamed of. But now that the moment is here, the weight of it is settling in. Youâre not just about to become the first woman in F1 in decades, youâre about to step into the spotlight as Ayrton Sennaâs daughter.
You take a deep breath, glancing down at the McLaren-branded polo shirt youâre wearing, the crisp fabric somehow making everything feel more real. This is happening. After all the years of hard work, all the sacrifices, youâre about to make history.
Alain stands beside you, his face calm, but his hand on your shoulder is firm and reassuring. âYou ready?â He asks, his voice low, but steady.
You nod, swallowing down the nerves. âI think so.â
âJust remember why youâre doing this,â he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. âThis is about you. Not your father. Not anyone else. You.â
You offer him a small smile. Alainâs always been good at grounding you, at reminding you that youâve earned this, regardless of who your father was. Heâs been there through it all â your highs and lows, your victories and failures. And now, here he is, standing beside you as you take this monumental step.
The curtains part, and the team principal, Martin Whitmarsh, steps onto the stage. The room quiets as he approaches the podium. âLadies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today,â he begins, his voice carrying through the room. âItâs not often we get to announce something of this magnitude. Today, McLaren is proud to welcome a new driver to our team for the 2013 season. Not only will she be the first woman to compete in Formula 1 in over 20 years, but sheâs also someone with a legacy that speaks for itself.â
Thereâs a murmur of curiosity from the crowd, and you know the moment is coming. The reveal. The truth that youâve kept hidden, even from the people closest to you.
âPlease join me in welcoming, Y/N Senna.â
The sound of your name, followed by your fatherâs, echoes through the room like a ripple of shock. For a brief moment, thereâs stunned silence. Then, the cameras start flashing, the murmurs turn into a roar, and all eyes are on you.
You step onto the stage, trying to steady your breath. The weight of the announcement, of who you are, feels heavier than you expected. But you push through, meeting the gaze of the journalists, the photographers, the team members standing off to the side. You canât see him from here, but you know Alain is watching from the wings, his quiet support steadying you.
Whitmarsh continues speaking, but the words blur together as your mind races. Itâs not until you hear the murmured whispers in the back of the room that your attention snaps back.
âSenna?â
âAyrtonâs daughter?â
âWhy didnât anyone know?â
As the press conference wraps up, and youâre led off stage, the questions start flooding in. Journalists swarm, desperate for a quote, for more insight into the mystery that youâve kept hidden for so long.
But before you can respond to any of them, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.
âY/N.â
You freeze, your heart dropping. You know that voice. You turn slowly, and there he is â Lewis, standing just a few feet away, his face unreadable.
The PR team tries to shuffle you away, but you shake them off, making your way over to him. âLewis âŠâ
He cuts you off, his expression dark. âYouâve been racing for all these years, and you never thought to tell me? Not once?â
The sting of his words catches you off guard, and you open your mouth to respond, but he continues, his voice low but sharp. âI thought we were close. I thought we were-â He stops, running a hand over his face. âYou let me fall for you, and you didnât even tell me who you really are.â
You feel the blood drain from your face. âLewis, it wasnât like that-â
âWasnât it?â He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours, hurt and confusion written all over his face. âI get it, okay? You didnât want people to treat you differently because of your name. But me? I thought we were past that.â
âI didnât want to use my fatherâs name to get ahead,â you say, your voice trembling slightly. âI wanted to make a name for myself, first. And I didnât tell you because ⊠because I didnât want it to change how you saw me.â
âWell, itâs changed everything now,â he snaps, his voice tight with anger. âI thought I knew you, but clearly, I didnât.â
You take a step back, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. âLewis, please. I didnât mean to hurt you.â
He lets out a bitter laugh. âDidnât mean to hurt me? Youâre Ayrton Sennaâs daughter, and you never even mentioned it once. How could you keep something like that from me?â
You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. âI didnât want it to come between us.â
âWell, it has,â he says, his voice quieter now, but still laced with pain. âI donât know what to think anymore.â
You stare at him, your chest tightening. The distance between you feels insurmountable now, like a chasm that you donât know how to cross.
âIâm sorry,â you whisper, your voice barely audible.
Lewis looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening slightly, but the hurt still lingers in his eyes. âI need some time,â he says finally, his voice rough. âI just ⊠I need to figure this out.â
You nod, the tears finally spilling over. âOkay.â
He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your heart heavy and your world spinning.
As you watch him go, you canât help but wonder if things will ever be the same between you.
***
The air at Imola is still. The late-summer heat clings to your skin, and the only sounds around you are the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You stare at the stone memorial, the bronze relief of your fatherâs face, the flowers people have left here over the years. Some are wilted, some fresh. Thereâs even a small Brazilian flag tucked against the base.
You exhale slowly, your hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your jacket. Itâs been exactly a year since you first stood here, heart in your throat, hoping to find some kind of connection, some kind of clarity. The weight of the past year presses down on you now â signing with McLaren, the media frenzy, the fallout with Lewis.
And Papai. Always Papai.
You kneel, brushing a hand over the smooth stone, fingers tracing the engraved letters. âI made it,â you whisper. âIâm almost there.â Your voice catches on the words, a lump forming in your throat. âI wish you were here to see it.â
You close your eyes, trying to imagine what heâd say if he were standing beside you. Maybe heâd be proud. Maybe heâd tell you to push harder, go faster, never settle. Or maybe heâd tell you to slow down, to find a way to reconnect with your mother before itâs too late. But heâs not here. Thatâs the problem, isnât it?
A soft rustling sound pulls you from your thoughts. Footsteps, deliberate but hesitant, approach from behind, crunching through the dry leaves scattered on the ground. You turn, and your breath catches in your throat.
Itâs Lewis.
Heâs wearing a hoodie, hands tucked into the front pocket, his brows peeking out from beneath a baseball cap. He stops a few feet away, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. Thereâs something guarded in his expression, but thereâs warmth there, too.
You straighten slowly, your heart hammering in your chest. âWhat are you doing here?â
Lewis shrugs, his gaze flickering to the memorial and back to you. âMonzaâs coming up. Thought Iâd stop by first ⊠like I always do.â
The tension between you feels like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence stretching out like a canyon.
âI didnât think Iâd see you here,â you finally say, your voice quieter than you intended.
He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. âI didnât think Iâd see you here, either.â
You bite your lip, looking away toward the memorial. âI needed to. Before the race. I ⊠I havenât been here since last year.â
Lewis shifts, the soft scrape of his shoes against the ground. âI remember.â
The air feels heavy between you, thick with all the things you havenât said to each other. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue, but they feel tangled, impossible to untangle without breaking.
Lewis is the first to speak again, his voice soft but steady. âIâve been thinking a lot. About what happened. About everything.â
You swallow hard, your hands clenching into fists in your pockets. âMe too.â
âI was angry,â Lewis admits. âHurt, too. But ⊠I get it now. Why you didnât tell me.â
His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him, surprised. âYou do?â
He nods slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. âI know what itâs like to feel like you have to prove yourself, like the worldâs already decided who you are before you even get a chance to show them. I just ⊠I wish youâd trusted me with it.â
âI wanted to,â you say, your voice cracking slightly. âI did. But ⊠itâs complicated.â You look down, kicking at a stray leaf with your shoe. âIâve spent my whole life trying to figure out how to be his daughter without being defined by it. And now ⊠now itâs all out there.â
Lewis steps closer, closing the gap between you. âYouâre not just his daughter, Y/N. Youâre you. And thatâs who I fell for.â
The warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten. You blink quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but itâs no use. They spill over anyway, and you wipe at them angrily with the sleeve of your jacket.
âItâs not just about the name,â you whisper. âRacing ⊠itâs all Iâve ever wanted. But itâs also what took me away from my mom.â You take a shaky breath, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. âShe canât even look at me without seeing him. I havenât had a real conversation with her in years. The last time we talked was my birthday. And it was just a two-minute call.â
Lewisâ face softens, and he reaches out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. âIâm sorry.â
You shake your head, sniffing quietly. âItâs not your fault. Itâs just ⊠hard, you know? I love racing, but it feels like itâs cost me everything else.â
He takes another step closer, his hand lingering on your cheek. âYouâve got me,â he murmurs.
You look up at him, your breath catching in your throat. âDo I?â
He smiles softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. âYeah. You do.â
The world feels like it tilts for a moment, everything narrowing down to just the two of you standing here, beneath the shadow of your fatherâs memory. And before you can think too hard about it, before the doubts can creep in, you lean in, closing the distance between you.
The kiss is soft at first â tentative, like neither of you wants to break the fragile peace thatâs settled between you. But then his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens, the weight of everything unsaid dissolving in the warmth of his touch.
When you finally pull away, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other.
âI missed you,â Lewis whispers, his breath warm against your skin.
âI missed you, too,â you admit, your voice barely audible.
For a moment, the two of you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away.
Eventually, Lewis pulls back slightly, his hand still cradling the back of your neck. âSo ⊠what now?â
You smile, a small, genuine smile that feels like the first one in a long time. âNow ⊠we go win at Monza.â
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âDamn right we will.â
You laugh softly, the sound light and free, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest lifts.
As you stand there, hand in hand with Lewis, you glance back at the memorial one last time. âI think heâd be happy,â you say quietly.
Lewis squeezes your hand gently. âI know he would.â
And just like that, the knot in your chest loosens. Youâre still Ayrton Sennaâs daughter. But youâre also yourself. And that? That feels like enough.
***
The crowd roars so loudly that it feels like the earth itself is shaking. SĂŁo Paulo is electric, the grandstands packed with people draped in green and yellow, waving flags, and chanting. Youâve been in big races before, stood on podiums, and tasted victory. But this ⊠this is different.
This is Interlagos. This is home. And for the first time in your career, youâre leading an F1 race in front of your people.
âAlright, Y/N,â your engineerâs voice crackles over the radio. âFive laps to go. Everything looks good on the telemetry. Just bring her home.â
Your heart pounds against your chest as you navigate the tight curves of the circuit. Every bump, every rise, every dip feels familiar. Youâve studied this track since you were a child. This is where your father was a legend â and now, itâs where you can make your own history.
The tires hum beneath you, vibrations pulsing through your hands and feet. The sky is dark with heavy clouds threatening rain, but the track is still dry, for now. Behind you, Sebastian Vettel is chasing hard in second place, his Red Bull a glimmer in your mirrors, but you donât think about him. Not now. This is about you. About crossing that finish line first.
Four laps. Then three. Every second feels like an eternity. You can hear the crowd over the sound of the engine, their voices rising every time you fly past the grandstands. âSENNA! SENNA!â they chant, over and over, as if your name â your real name â was always meant to be called alongside your fatherâs.
âTwo laps, Y/N. Gap to Vettel is two seconds. Stay focused.â
Your grip tightens on the wheel. You shift gears, your mind and body moving in perfect sync with the machine around you. The wind whistles past your helmet as you race up the hill toward the final turn.
On the final lap, it starts to drizzle â just enough to slick the track and make things dangerous. Your car twitches as the tires search for grip.
âBe careful, Y/N,â your engineer warns. âYouâve got this. Just stay calm.â
You breathe in. Breathe out. And then the chequered flag waves ahead of you, and the world explodes into color and sound.
âP1, Y/N! P1! Youâve won the Brazilian Grand Prix!â Your engineerâs voice is hoarse with excitement. âThat was incredible â you just won at home!â
Your heart leaps as tears spring to your eyes. You punch the air, screaming into the radio, not caring who hears. âYES! YES! WE DID IT!â
The car coasts into parc fermĂ©, the engine humming its final notes as you switch it off. You rip off your gloves and helmet, letting the cool air hit your damp face. The grandstands are still shaking with the cheers of thousands. Your name â Senna â is on every banner, every poster, and every fanâs lips.
You climb out of the car, adrenaline still surging through your veins, and jump onto the chassis. The crowd roars even louder as you throw your fists into the air, pointing toward the sky. The thought flashes through your mind: This oneâs for you, Papai.
You jump down and make your way to the barriers where your team waits, already celebrating with hugs, fist bumps, and slaps on the back. You push through the throng of mechanics, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. And thatâs when you see her.
Among the sea of McLaren team uniforms, standing stiffly with her arms wrapped around herself, is your mother.
Your steps falter for a moment, shock flooding through you. Sheâs here. Sheâs really here. You blink, wondering if the tears in your eyes are playing tricks on you, but no â there she is. Adriane.
Sheâs thinner than you remember, her hair streaked with more silver now. She looks out of place among the mechanics, but sheâs here. Her eyes, so much like your own, are filled with something you havenât seen in years â pride. And something more. Regret.
For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. You donât know whether to laugh or cry or run the other way. Then her face crumples, and she takes a tentative step forward, her arms reaching for you like she used to when you were small.
Thatâs all it takes. You close the distance in an instant, throwing yourself into her arms.
âMĂŁe!â The word leaves your mouth in a sob, and before you know it, youâre both crying, clutching each other like youâre afraid to let go.
âIâm sorry,â she whispers into your hair, her voice trembling. âIâm so sorry, minha filha. I was wrong. I shouldâve-â
You shake your head against her shoulder, holding her tighter. âYouâre here now. Thatâs all that matters.â
She pulls back slightly, cupping your face in her hands like she used to when you were little. âI didnât think I could do it,â she admits, tears streaming down her cheeks. âI was so afraid Iâd lose you too. But then ⊠then I watched you out there today.â Her voice cracks, and she brushes a strand of hair from your face. âAnd I saw him. I saw Ayrton. But more than that, I saw you. My daughter.â
You canât speak â your throat feels too tight, and the tears wonât stop. So you just nod, leaning into her touch as the noise of the paddock fades into the background.
Adriane pulls you back into a hug, and for the first time in years, you let yourself feel it â the warmth, the love, the mother you thought youâd lost. And somehow, standing here with her in your arms, it feels like youâve come full circle.
After a long moment, she pulls back and wipes her tears, a shaky laugh escaping her. âLook at us. Crying like fools.â
You laugh too, sniffling as you wipe your own face. âItâs okay. Itâs a good day to cry.â
A voice cuts through the noise â your team calling you for the podium ceremony. You glance over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the moment settle on you. You turn back to your mother, hesitant. âWill you stay?â
She smiles, her eyes still glassy with unshed tears. âI wouldnât miss it for the world.â
You nod, squeezing her hand one last time before you let go and jog toward the podium. The crowdâs roar is deafening as you step up to the top step, your name flashing on the giant screens around the circuit. The Brazilian flag rises slowly, and as the national anthem plays, you close your eyes and let the moment wash over you.
It feels like home. It feels like peace. It feels like youâre exactly where youâre meant to be.
Later, after the champagne has been sprayed and the trophies have been handed out, you find Lewis waiting for you in the paddock, a grin stretching across his face.
âNot bad, Senna,â he teases, pulling you into a warm embrace.
You laugh, pressing your forehead against his. âNot bad yourself, Hamilton.â
The two of you stay like that for a moment, the chaos of the paddock swirling around you, but all you can feel is the steady beat of his heart against yours.
âYour dad would be proud,â Lewis murmurs, his voice soft in your ear.
You smile, closing your eyes. âYeah,â you whisper. âI think he would be.â
***
The sun is setting over Monaco, casting the apartment in soft golds and pinks. You let yourself in quietly, the cool metal of the front door clicking shut behind you. Training was brutal today â your arms ache, and every muscle feels like itâs been wrung out. All you want is to find Lewis, maybe curl up on the couch together and recover with some takeaway.
You kick off your sneakers, already untying the knot in your ponytail, when you hear voices from the living room. You pause mid-step.
Lewis is talking to someone â no, two people. You creep forward on silent feet, heart quickening as the voices grow clearer.
â-I love her more than anything,â Lewis says, his voice low but certain. âAnd I want to spend the rest of my life with her.â
Your breath catches. You flatten yourself against the wall, just out of sight. It feels like youâve stepped into some kind of dream, one where the pieces of your life are rearranging themselves into something both surreal and perfect.
Then you hear your motherâs voice â gentler than it used to be, softened by time and the walls youâve slowly chipped away.
âYou want my blessing?â Adriane says, her words slow, as if sheâs tasting them, feeling their weight.
âI do,â Lewis replies. âI wanted to ask both of you. It felt right.â
Both of them? You inch closer, daring to peek around the corner. And there they are â Lewis, sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, looking more serious than youâve ever seen him. Across from him sit your mother and Alain, side by side like a pair of mismatched bookends.
Alain leans back, arms folded, the corner of his mouth twitching as if heâs trying not to smile. âYou realize what youâre getting into?â He asks dryly. âSheâs more stubborn than Ayrton ever was.â
Lewis chuckles, but itâs a little nervous. âYeah, I know.â
Adriane tilts her head, studying him like sheâs trying to see through to his soul. âAnd if she says no?â
Lewisâ face softens, a quiet kind of love settling into his expression. âThen Iâll still be with her. Because I donât need her to marry me to know sheâs it for me.â
Something cracks open inside you. It feels like standing on the podium in Brazil all over again â overwhelming and humbling and impossibly full. You press a hand to your mouth, as if that will steady the emotion threatening to spill over.
Your mother leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Thereâs a moment of silence so thick it hums.
âWhen Y/N was seven,â she begins slowly, âshe told me she wanted to race. I told her no. I thought if I kept her away from the track, I could protect her from the same thing that took Ayrton from me.â She sighs, her gaze dropping to her hands. âBut all I did was push her away.â
Alain clears his throat, glancing sideways at her. âItâs not easy,â he murmurs, more to Adriane than to Lewis. âLoving someone who belongs to the track.â
Your mother nods, her eyes glassy. âBut youâve made her happy. Youâve given her the space to be who sheâs always wanted to be.â She pauses, blinking quickly. âAnd I see Ayrton in that. In you.â
Lewis rubs the back of his neck, clearly moved but trying not to show it. âThat means more than you know.â
âAnd you promise me something,â Adriane says, her voice gaining strength, as if sheâs gathering all her fears into this one request. âThat youâll never try to stop her. Not when things get hard. Not when it scares you.â
Lewis leans forward, looking her dead in the eye. âI swear. Iâd never take that from her.â
Your mother exhales, like a weight sheâs carried for years is finally lifting off her shoulders. âThen you have my blessing,â she says quietly.
Alain smirks, slapping Lewis on the back. âLooks like youâre in for the ride of your life.â
They laugh softly, the kind of laugh that comes with hard-won understanding.
And thatâs when the floorboard under your foot creaks.
All three heads whip toward the sound, and youâre caught, frozen halfway between hiding and stepping forward.
Lewisâ eyes widen, and then a slow, guilty smile spreads across his face. âHow long have you been standing there?â
You step fully into the room, arms crossed but fighting back a grin. âLong enough to hear that youâre plotting something.â
Alain chuckles, standing up and brushing off his jeans. âI think thatâs my cue to leave.â He winks at you, patting Lewis on the shoulder as he makes his way toward the door. âGood luck.â
âThanks, Alain,â Lewis mutters, rubbing his palms against his thighs, clearly nervous now.
Your mother rises as well, hesitating for a moment. She looks at you, her eyes soft. âIâll call you later,â she murmurs, reaching out to squeeze your hand briefly before following Alain out the door. Â
And then itâs just you and Lewis, standing in the golden light of your apartment, the door clicking shut behind your mother and Alain. Â
You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice light. âSo ⊠what was all that about?â Â
Lewis steps closer, and suddenly the nervous energy from earlier melts away. He takes your hand, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your palm. Â
âY/N âŠâ he begins, and thereâs something so tender in the way he says your name that it makes your heart skip a beat. âI wanted to do this the right way. To ask the people who mean the mos to you.â Â
Your breath catches as he drops to one knee, right there in the middle of your living room. Â
He pulls a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring that catches the light like starlight on water. Itâs simple, elegant, and perfect. Â
Lewis looks up at you, his dark eyes filled with love, nerves, and hope. âI love you, Y/N. Iâve loved you from the moment I saw you at Imola. And I want to spend every day from now on making you as happy as youâve made me.â Â
You cover your mouth with your hand, tears already welling up in your eyes. Â
âSo,â he says with a smile thatâs both warm and a little crooked. âWhat do you say? Will you marry me?â Â
For a moment, all you can do is nod, words caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. Then you finally find your voice. Â
âYes,â you whisper, your smile breaking wide and free. âYes, Iâll marry you.âÂ
Lewisâ grin lights up the room, and he stands, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. You kiss him, slow and deep, and in that moment, it feels like everything â the years of struggle, of loss, of love â has brought you to exactly where youâre supposed to be.
When you finally pull away, breathless and giddy, Lewis leans his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face.
âGuess Alain was right,â he murmurs, grinning. âThis really is the ride of my life.â
You laugh, pure and full, wrapping your arms around him tighter. âBuckle up, Hamilton,â you tease. âItâs only just getting started.â
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lewis hamilton#lh44#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#lewis hamilton x y/n#mercedes#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton fanfiction#ayrton senna
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It is over and everything is lost. This is the refrain repeated by Armenian families as they take that final step across the border out of their home of Nagorno-Karabakh.
In just a handful of days more than 100,000 people, almost the entire Armenian population of the breakaway enclave, has fled fearing ethnic persecution at the hands of Azerbaijani forces. The world barely registered it. But this astonishing exodus has vanished a self-declared state that thousands have died fighting for and ended a decades-old bloody chapter of history.
On Saturday, along that dusty mountain road to neighbouring Armenia, a few remaining people limp to safety after enduring days in transit.
Among them is the Tsovinar family who appear bundled in a hatchback littered with bullet holes, with seven relatives crushed in the back. Hasratyan, 48, the mother, crumbles into tears as she tries to make sense of her last 48 hours. The thought she cannot banish is that from this moment forward, she will never again be able to visit the grave of her brother killed in a previous bout of fighting.
âHe is buried in our village which is now controlled by Azerbaijan. We can never go back,â the mother-of-three says, as her teenage girls sob quietly beside her.
âWe have lost our home, and our homeland. It is an erasing of a people. The world kept silent and handed us overâ.
She is interrupted by several ambulances racing in the opposite direction towards Nagorno-Karabakhâs main city of Stepanakert, or Khankendi, as it is known by the Azerbaijani forces that now control the streets. Their job is to fetch the few remaining Karabakh Armenians who want to leave and have yet to make it out.
âThose left are the poorest who have no cars, the disabled and elderly who canât move easily,â a first responder calls at us through the window. âThen weâre told thatâs it.â
As the world focused on the United Nations General Assembly, the war in Ukraine and, in the UK, the felling of an iconic Sycamore tree, a decades old war has reignited here unnoticed.
It ultimately heralded the end of Nagorno-Karabakh, a breakaway Armenian region, that is internationally recognised as being part of Azerbaijan but for several decades has enjoyed de facto independence. It has triggered the largest movement of people in the South Caucasus since the collapse of the Soviet Union.
Azerbaijan has vehemently denied instigating ethnic cleansing and has promised to protect Armenians as it works to reintegrate the enclave.
But in the border town of Goris, surrounded by the chaotic arrival of hundreds of refugees, Armeniaâs infrastructure minister says Yerevan was now struggling to work out what to do with tens of thousands of displaced and desperate people.
âSimply put this is a modern ethnic cleansing that has been permitted through the guilty silence of the world,â minister Gnel Sanosyan tells The Independent, as four new busses of fleeing families arrive behind him.
âThis is a global shame, a shame for the world. We need the international community to step up and step up now.â
The divisions in this part of the world have their roots in centuries-old conflict but the latest iterations of bitter bloodshed erupted during the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Karabakh Armenians, who are in the majority in the enclave, demanded the right to autonomy over the 4,400 square kilometre rolling mountainous region that has its own history and dialect. In the early 1990s they won a bloody war that uprooted Azerbaijanis, building a de facto state that wasnât internationally unrecognised.
That is until in 2020. Azerbaijan, backed by Turkey, launched a military offensive and took back swathes of territory in a six-week conflict that killed thousands of soldiers and civilians. Russia, which originally supported Armenia but in recent years has grown into a colder ally, brokered a fragile truce and deployed peacekeepers.
But Moscow failed to stop Baku in December, enforcing a 10-month blockade on Nagorno-Karabakh, strangling food, fuel, electricity and water supplies. Then, the international community stood by as Azerbaijan launched a 24-hour military blitz that proved too much for Armenian separatist forces. Outgunned, outnumbered and weakened by the blockade, they agreed to lay down their weapons.
For 30 years the Karabakh authorities had survived pressure from international powerhouses to give up statehood or at least downgrade their aspirations for Nagorno-Karabakh. For 30 years peace plans brokered by countries across the world were tabled and shelved.
And then in a week all hope vanished and the self-declared government agreed to dissolve.
Fearing further shelling and then violent reprisals, as news broke several Karabakh officials including former ministers and separatist commanders, had been arrested by Azerbaijani security forces, people flooded over the border.
At the political level there are discussions about âreintegrationâ and âpeaceâ but with so few left in Nagorno-Karabakh any process would now be futile.
And so now, sleeping in tents on the floors of hotels, restaurants and sometimes the streets of border towns, shellshocked families, with a handful of belongings, are trying to piece their lives together.
Among them is Vardan Tadevosyan, Nagorno-Karabakhâs minister of health until the government was effectively dissolved on Thursday. He spent the night camping on the floor of a hotel, and carries only the clothes he is wearing. Exhausted he says he had âno idea what the future bringsâ.
âFor 25 years I have built a rehabilitation centre for people with physical disabilities I had to leave it all behind. You donât know how many people are calling me for support,â he says as his phone ringed incessantly in the background throughout the interview.
âWe all left everything behind. I am very depressed,â he repeats, swallowing the sentence with a sigh.
Next to him Artemis, 58, a kindergarten coordinator who has spent 30 years in Steparankert, says the real problems were going to start in the coming weeks when the refugees outstay their temporary accommodation.
âThe Azerbaijanis said they want to integrate Nagorno-Karabakh but how do you blockade a people for 10 months and then launch a military operation and then ask them to integrate?â she asks, as she prepares for a new leg of the journey to the Armenian capital where she hopes to find shelter.
âThe blockade was part of the ethnic cleansing. This is the only way to get people to flee the land they love. There is no humanity left in the world.â
Back in the central square of Goris, where families pick through piles of donated clothes and blankets and aid organisations hand out food, the loudest question is: what next?
Armenian officials are busy registering families and sending them to shelters in different corners of the country. But there are unanswered queries about long-term accommodation, work and schooling.
âI canât really think about it, it hurts too much,â says Hasratyanâs eldest daughter Lilet, 16, trembling in the sunlight as the family starts the registration process.
âAll I can say to the world is please speak about this and think about us. We are humans, people made of blood, like you and we need your help.â
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It's just never a good thing if my dad calls at an abnormal time
#speculation nation#negative/#im just. hm.#bad family news. not immediately bad but very not hopeful.#and i already wasnt feeling good so now im just. sitting in the bathroom. still at my workplace.#thank god i was done with work already bc this just knocked me completely off kilter.#and i. dont really know what to do.#i suppose the first step would be to get home...#but im like. kinda shaking lol. i dont want to leave the seclusion of this room.#i didnt know what i was gonna do tonight and now i know even less.#what am i even supposed to do after this? just go home and act like everything's normal?#i promised my dad i'd text my cousin. but idk how good of emotional support id be like this lmao.#gotta at least try. at least reach out. bc it's worse for him than me.#god i wish this happened on a day when i was in a better brain state. what a final fuckin blow.
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Article | Paywall Free
"Maryland Gov. Wes Moore issued a mass pardon of more than 175,000 marijuana convictions Monday morning [June 17, 2024], one of the nationâs most sweeping acts of clemency involving a drug now in widespread recreational use.
The pardons forgive low-level marijuana possession charges for an estimated 100,000 people in what the Democratic governor said is a step to heal decades of social and economic injustice that disproportionately harms Black and Brown people. Moore noted criminal records have been used to deny housing, employment and education, holding people and their families back long after their sentences have been served.
[Note: If you're wondering how 175,000 convictions were pardoned but only 100,000 people are benefiting, it's because there are often multiple convictions per person.]
A Sweeping Act
âWe arenât nibbling around the edges. We are taking actions that are intentional, that are sweeping and unapologetic,â Moore said at an Annapolis event interrupted three times by standing ovations. âPolicymaking is powerful. And if you look at the past, you see how policies have been intentionally deployed to hold back entire communities.â
Moore called the scope of his pardons âthe most far-reaching and aggressiveâ executive action among officials nationwide who have sought to unwind criminal justice inequities with the growing legalization of marijuana. Nine other states and multiple cities have pardoned hundreds of thousands of old marijuana convictions in recent years, according to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws. Legalized marijuana markets reap billions in revenue for state governments each year, and polls show public sentiment on the drug has also turned â with more people both embracing cannabis use and repudiating racial disparities exacerbated by the War on Drugs.
The pardons, timed to coincide with Wednesdayâs Juneteenth holiday, a day that has come to symbolize the end of slavery in the United States, come from a rising star in the Democratic Party and the lone Black governor of a U.S. state whose ascent is built on the promise to âleave no one behind.â
The Pardons and Demographics
Derek Liggins, 57, will be among those pardoned Monday, more than 16 years after his last day in prison for possessing and dealing marijuana in the late 1990s. Despite working hard to build a new life after serving time, Liggins said he still loses out on job opportunities and potential income.
âYou canât hold people accountable for possession of marijuana when youâve got a dispensary on almost every corner,â he said.
Nationwide, according to the ACLU, Black people were more than three times more likely than White people to be arrested for marijuana possession. President Biden in 2022 issued a mass pardon of federal marijuana convictions â a reprieve for roughly 6,500 people â and urged governors to follow suit in states, where the vast majority of marijuana prosecutions take place.
Marylandâs pardon action rivals only Massachusetts, where the governor and an executive council together issued a blanket pardon in March expected to affect hundreds of thousands of people.
But Mooreâs pardons appear to stand alone in the impact to communities of color in a state known for having one of the nationâs worst records for disproportionately incarcerating Black people for any crimes. More than 70 percent of the stateâs male incarcerated population is Black, according to state data, more than double their proportion in society.
In announcing the pardons, he directly addressed how policies in Maryland and nationwide have systematically held back people of color â through incarceration and restricted access to jobs and housing...
Maryland, the most diverse state on the East Coast, has a dramatically higher concentration of Black people compared with other states that have issued broad pardons for marijuana: 33 percent of Marylandâs population is Black, while the next highest is Illinois, with 15 percent...
Reducing the stateâs mass incarceration disparity has been a chief goal of Moore, Brown and Maryland Public Defender Natasha Dartigue, who are all the first Black people to hold their offices in the state. Brown and Dartigue have launched a prosecutor-defender partnership to study the âthe entire continuum of the criminal system,â from stops with law enforcement to reentry, trying to detect all junctures where discretion or bias could influence how justice is applied, and ultimately reform it.
How It Will Work
Maryland officials said the pardons, which would also apply to people who are dead, will not result in releasing anyone from incarceration because none are imprisoned. Misdemeanor cannabis charges yield short sentences and prosecutions for misdemeanor criminal possession have stopped, as possessing small amounts of the drug is legal statewide.
Mooreâs pardon action will automatically forgive every misdemeanor marijuana possession charge the Maryland judiciary could locate in the stateâs electronic court records system, along with every misdemeanor paraphernalia charge tied to use or possession of marijuana. Maryland is the only state to pardon such paraphernalia charges, state officials said...
People who benefit from the mass pardon will see the charges marked in state court records within two weeks, and they will be eliminated from criminal background check databases within 10 months."
-via The Washington Post, June 17, 2024. Headings added by me.
#maryland#united states#us politics#cannabis#cannabis community#marijuana#pot#wes moore#democrats#voting matters#mass incarceration#prison#prison industrial complex#racism#discrimination#oppression#policing#social issues#pardons#legal system#background checks#prison system#good news#hope
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RON WEASLEY GUYS
The best most canon divergent my brain has been but please guys hear me out i
Okay so we all know the things that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to do to get to the sorcererâs stone in the first book. Devils Snare, the key, the riddle and Wizarding Chess. We know that the Chess set was the work of Professor Mcgonagall, and assuming the protections were meant to work that means that Mcgonagall would have to have been an incredible chess player. Not above average, like GrandMaster level player. Given this when Ron beats McGonagall she is taken aback. Only 3 other people have beaten her, Albus, Severus and Tom Riddle. She takes to playing chess with Ron in the nights following in the common room (Ron doesnât sleep at all until Harry wakes up and is back in the dorm). She has not beaten him. At the end of year feast when Dumbledore awards him points for the âbest chess game Hogwarts have ever seenâ the Slytherins and Ravenclaws are utterly ill. Throughout the rest of his Hogwarts career Ron is challenged by more and more students to play chess, Theo Nott, loses to him and the Slytherin students begin to look at him differently. Half of the Ravenclaws in their year watch in awe as he swiftly beats Parma. It continues like this through his time at Hogwarts, he has never lost. The Slytherin students begin to see his cunning mins, right after he beats Pucey, who is infamous for thinking 20 steps ahead. When Ron beats Marietta Edgecombe the Ravenclaws begin to follow him, they watch nearly all of his matches and take notes, completely ignoring the 5 pave paper due tomorrow. After Ron has beaten all of the students Snape (who has been listening to the whispers in the Slytherin common room) challenges him. The whole school watches with bated breath. It is well known that Snape has only ever lost to two people: Dumbledore and Voldemort. McGonagall promises him 15 Knuts if he wins, she canât contain the shame any longer.
The ensuing chess match takes place over the span of several days, Snape is frequently writing late notes for the students who wish to see it. Other teachers are arriving to their respective classes late. Every time the game is paused Dumbledore casts the anti-tampering ward. This continues for nearly a week, Ron wins. Snape has never respected a Gryffindor more in his life (he is doubly harsh on him in potions, you beat one of the best players in the nation and you mean to tell me your potion is still bubbling??[Ron knows that Snape is seeing him, he just smiles and tweets for a few minutes before a perfect potion is bottled{Snape keeps them in his personal store]}) Eventually Ron is set to play Dumbledore, he is utterly terrified. Soon enough the match is the talk of Wizards across the nation, the Weasley family are all overjoyed for him, win or lose. The game begins and reporters from the Daily Prophet are there, Ron almost cracks, almost In the end after a week and a half Dumbledoreâs eyes twinkle, with renewed vigor as he forfeits. Word gets out to Voldemort- he immediately tries to recruit Ron as a Death Eater. Every time Ron rejects him Voldemort sends an increasingly expensive and rare gift. Eventually Ron says if Voldemort vows to not hurt Harry that he will play him in chess, just once. The winner decides their own boon. The world is watching with baited breath as the best chess player and one of the most calculating minds in a century take the stage.The game lasts fornearly 2 weeks, a peace settles over the UK that has not been since Voldemort rose in that grave. The two declare a tie. No body wins, but Voldemort does realize that the war has become far too brutish.
#harry potter#hogwarts#slytherin#ron weasley#tom riddle#albus dumbledore#ron is a chess grandmaster#severus snape#smart ron#please guys ik its soooo canon divergent but ugh i just ugh#not cannon compliant#fuck the canon#chess#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#wizarding world
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cws: creepy behaviour that leads into future dubcon. youâre not enthusiastic but donât hate it either? idk how to tag this
a home loaning system where civilians (who pass a thorough vetting by the military) can sublet their home as a safe house for any soldier who might need it.
youâre no patriot. when you sign up, you arenât doing it to serve those who serve your country like the website suggests. in fact, itâs a last ditch attempt to keep yourself afloat after your roommate moves out and leaves you with a rent you canât feasibly afford yourself. sacrifice your space in exchange for your housing fully paid for and a headache gone â itâs appealing, certainly, a little too good to be true. youâd suspect it a scam if the url didnât end in .gov.
they ask for a lot, of course. a photo. your national insurance number, passport details and travel history from the past 10 years. occupation (student, which prompts a second question asking for your school and university ID). a ârobustâ paragraph about your living habits. family history, health details. you must black out at one point, as you find yourself hitting submit hours later with no knowledge of what to expect.
that is, if you should expect anything. a confirmation email arrives moments later, and thatâs the last you hear of it.
until 4 months later. a hefty sum hits your account, set to the exact amount you specified your rent + utilities to cost. the sender is the only indication you get that youâve been accepted: the royal army pay corps. on their dime now, and expected to act with the utmost discretion â for your sake as much as theirs. you spend that night fighting sleep on the couch, waiting for a knock by some zealot in fatigues.
no one shows up.
not immediately, at least. gratefully â and a tad surprising given your infamously cheap government â youâre paid regardless of whether anyone requires your service or not. for weeks you treat it as passive income, gauze against bleeding finances, tamping your stress so you can focus on your studies instead. life begins to look up. the air smells a little crisper every morning. you sleep deep and well.
but the knock comes. belatedly, but it comes.
at 12 am, no less. you had resolved to pull an all-nighter to study for your midterm, so you donât miss the low rap of knuckles against your door. though at this point, youâve long forgotten of the expectation that can be delegated to you at any time. your apartmentâs a mess: laundry unfolded, dishes stacked in the sink. whatâs more, your spontaneous guest scares you out of your right mind. a quick look through the peephole is enough to tell you that he is not the pizza delivery man, but a figure towering just below two metres, dressed in a balaclava and plain hoodie.
âwho is it?â you call out, scrambling for an offensive weapon of any sort. you end up with a broom from the nearby cleaning cupboard.
âlieutenant riley.â
oh.
you crack open the door, poking your head out to give him a thorough once over. âyou donât look very military-like.â
âwhaâ a shame.â
lieutenant riley then gives you no choice but to step aside, driving himself through the entryway through brute force. your instinct is to react with pure terror, tripping backward until the broomstick crosses firmly over your chest. yet flight rapidly switches to fight as he dumps his duffel bag by your shoe rack and rummages through your fridge.
âhey! donât they teach you manners in basic?â
âwouldnâ last a day if they did, pet.â he tucks three water bottles under his arm, then picks his stuff off the ground once more. amidst the warmer light of your home, he stands as a herculean anomaly. shoulders that fill the foyer, each hand as large as your skull. his eyes â shadowed, framed in isolation from the rest of his face. and when he stares, unease bleeds into you. as black and void as his civic garb, forming a tightening grip over your heart.
this strange man is in your home.
this strange, large, dangerous man is here to stay for however long he needs.
he lacks all propriety and unabashedly ogles at your bare legs, adjusting himself in plain sight â and to make things exponentially worse, he isnât uninvited. you brought this man here.
(which means youâll have to put up with the strange violation already settling in your chest.)
âyour⊠your room is on the left.â
he says nothing, disappearing to where you point him.
so, the lieutenant is a fucking nightmare.
whatever benefits came with having your rent paid for are immediately negated by the amount of food he consumes. groceries that last you a fortnight are gone in a matter of days, which is perplexing given that you never see him cook. you imagine he slips whatever he can down his throat before going back into hibernation, like some beast too primal for preference.
you call it hibernation because thatâs what it is. he knocks out for hours, door locked, no sound or light coming from the gap underneath. you once spent half an hour just listening in after he hadnât shown face all day, wondering whether youâd be making a call to corpse control for the dead body in your guest room. the effort had been purely motivated by concern, you swear it, however hard that was to explain when he stepped out a few minutes later to find you on your knees, cheek pressed against the floor.
the look he gave you is impossible to forget. hungry, amusement palpable behind the eyes that immediately fix onto your raised behind. you stopped wearing pyjama shorts that day. partly due to your discomfort, but mostly because the pair goes inexplicably missing from your laundry basket. a voice tells you to check under his pillow when he steps out, but the possibility is far too upsetting to seriously consider.
not like heâs above it, though. he crosses so many boundaries, youâd think they werenât common courtesy.
of such instances: in the months since your roommate moved out, youâd gotten into the bad habit of keeping the bathroom door unlocked. while that is your fault, the terror himself isnât blameless given his address of the situation. he should be able to hear the water running as you brush your teeth or wash your face, and yet he walks in anyway, pulling his heavy cock out to piss as you try to ignore the way it heaves between his legs, even when completely soft.
âdoyewmind?â you hiss one morning, mouth still full of foam. it looms in your periphery, fat and ruddy. a trail of wild hair leading down toâ
riley shoots you a blank look. ânoâ at all.â
then tucks himself back into his pants, hand smoothing across your lower back as he slips out. it occurs to you to be grateful that he keeps away when you shower, up until the absolute absurdity of your standards hit you like a killing blow.
the bar is in hell.
(yet you sneak a finger between your legs sometimes, only when youâre absolutely sure youâve locked the door, and imagine how things would unfold if he were to infringe on your most basic of rights.)
it doesnât take long before your quiet fantasy is realised. all it takes is for you to come home particularly late one night â heels in hand and makeup a mess after letting yourself loose at the end-of-term party â to find riley waiting on you, unmasked.
[next]
#sorry ive been really into mean creepy nasty man simon lately#ill edit in the morningđ€#simon âghostâ riley x reader#simon âghostâ riley#ghost#simon riley#simon ghost riley#x reader#cod#call of duty#fanfic
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09/16/2024 is National Guacamole Day đ, World Childless Week đ, Anne Bradstreet Day đșđž, Mayflower Day đșđž, National Cinnamon Raisin Bread Day đșđž, World Play-Doh Day đșđž, National Step-Family Day đșđž, Trail of Tears Commemoration Day đșđž, International Day for the Preserveration of the Ozone Layer đșđł
#national guacamole day#world childless week#anne bradstreet day#mayflower day#national cinnamon raisin bread day#world play-doh day#national step-family day#trail of tears commemoration day#international day for the preserveration of the ozone layer
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â© â§âË â© JUST YOURS â LYNEY.
contents. archon quest spoilers, reader finds out lyney is from the house of the hearthâand all the drama + betrayal that comes from that </3 so big rip </3 but it has a hopeful ending tho !!
lyney has knocked on your door three times todayâyou havenât opened up once. you canât.
âplease,â you can hear his muffled voice, âi just want to talk. will you let me explain?â
magicians must always make their audience believe in the impossible, heâs always told you with that sweet, alluring little smile on his face that makes you hang onto every word of his. heâs right, you thinkâmagicians are simply those who have mastered the art of deception, and lyney is no exception. heâs deceiving you even now, with that broken voice as if heâs the one whoâs hurt.
word spreads fast in fontaineâlyney, your sweet, romantic, devoted lyney, is of the house of the hearth. his trial mortifies you at firstâbut deep down, you know in your heart that lyney is no murderer. and then, in an instant, youâre not so sure anymore when somehow, within less than a day, lady furina is able to uncover more about your boyfriend than you have in months.
lyney is of the house of the hearth. heâs of the fatui.
âiâm sorry,â you hear a thud of his forehead resting against the door, âyouâre mad, i knowâbut let me explain theââ
for the first time all day, you open the door. youâre not sure whyâsomehow, you need him to know youâre not just mad. youâve been mad at lyney before, being mad is easy. being mad means heâll pull a rose from behind your ear and make you smile against your will. being mad means youâll realize you canât stay mad at him for long, not when he looks at you like that. being mad is temporaryâbut this? this feels permanent.
youâre not mad at lyney. you simply canât trust him anymore, and he needs to know that, needs to understand that he should stay away and never find you again.
youâre glaring at him, staring at the face that has always done nothing but make you smile. you wonder, for a small, doubtful moment, if every smile lyney has ever pulled from you has been built off of pure lies and half truths and withheld information.
youâve given him every bit of yourself, told him everything there is to tell and then some, let him discover things himself that no one has yet to learn. and lyney, as you learn, is someone you canât even begin to know, not reallyâmaybe not ever.
âyouâre with the fatui,â your voice is cold, but you know he can hear the waverâyou hate him for that. for being able to pick you apart when you donât know the first thing about him, âyouâve lied to me all this timeââ
âi didnât lie,â he says quickly, âi justâŠdidnât tell you everythingââ
âthatâs not any better,â you cut him off, finality in your voice that makes his eyes widen a fraction, âi have no business with someone of theââ
âwait,â his foot stops the door before it can close, stepping in despite your protests as he inches closer and closer. you take a step back every timeâthe hurt on his face is palpable. âcanâŠcan i explain? please?â
âexplain what?â you furrow your eyebrows, âexplain that youâre with the fatui? how is there any explaining that? how can you look me in the eye and tell me youâre not badââ
âiâm not,â he insists, âiâm not bad.â
lyney has never looked at you like thatâlike youâve hurt him right where heâs most vulnerable, right where heâs weak and fragile and canât bear to be hurt. you hate that you want to apologize for a moment, that you want to cradle his face and kiss the tremble off of his lips.
âthen what are you?â you challenge, crossing your arms.
âiâm trying to save people,â he croaks, âour organization has a lot of peopleâa lot of goals. father and i want toââ
âyour father has hurt people,â you cut him off.
âfather saved me,â he says firmly, âand lynette. she gave us a home. and she wants to save the people of this nationââ
âsheâs taken advantage of your weakness andââ
âshe did what no one else would for me and my family.â
âthen go,â you spit, âgo to her and do her bidding. but i canât turn a blind eye to the fact that youâre with the fatui.â
âeven as a member of the house, my decisions are my own,â his hand grabs yoursâyou canât find it in yourself to pull it away. itâs familiar, warmâitâs lyney. your lyney. âiâm doing what i believe is right. to break the prophecy.â
âi donât know what youâre trying to do,â you admit, tired, defeated, âor who you are, frankly. but iâm tired of lies, lyney.â
âthen iâll tell you the truth,â his voice trembles, âanything you ask.â
âiâm not sure thatâll help,â you say quietly.
and then his arms are wrapped tightly around you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck as he pulls you close. you want to push him away. you want to melt into his arms. you want to tell him to leave. you want to ask him to always stay.
lyney is of the house of the hearth, the fatui. but heâs also your lyneyâthe one who brings you flowers and tucks them behind your ear, the one who does tricks for children and makes them smile, the one who gives his heart and soul for his family to keep them safe.
you donât know if the two can coexist as one, but you know despite it all, you still love lyney, and you donât know if you can stop. the thought is haunting.
âiâve always done what i believe is right,â he promises, âiâve never hurt someone innocent. you have to know that much.â
âlyneyââ
âi love you,â his voice breaks, âiâve always loved you as just lyney. i promise.â
âiâm scared of who you are when youâre not just lyney,â you whisperâand you suppose youâre also weak, because your hand slips into his hair, stroking through the strands so that if itâs the last time, maybe you can commit the feeling of him to memory.
you can feel his tears fall onto your skin, and you can feel his fingers grip your shirt as he clings onto you, onto the last bit of hope that youâre hisâthat heâs yours. your lyney, the one youâve always known and loved.
âiâm always just lyney,â he promises, âno matter who iâm with.â
âi justâŠneed time,â you sniffle, âto think.â
âokay,â he says quietly. you can feel his lip quiver against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck, âiâll wait. however long you need, iâll wait. i love you.â
âi know, lyney,â you sigh, caving and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head. you savor the feelingâjust in case youâll never feel it again.
maybe you canâmaybe heâs telling the truth. maybe lyney has always been yours, the one you think you know. you donât know, but you hope youâll find out.
i would forgive him i canât lie to you no amount of fatui crimes could outweigh how badly i need to kiss this little shrimp of mine
#teepods.writings#drabbles.#lyney x reader#lyney x you#lyney angst#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin angst#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact angst
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welcome home
barcelona femeni x alexia putellas x youngadult!reader
summary: you find healing after switching clubs
warnings: swearing, bodyshaming, one mention of bodily fluids, I made up names of imaginary players who don't play for the nwsl club mentioned in this fic!!!, bullying, angst, yes there is a happy ending.
you grew up with your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ball.Â
at 15, you felt like the world belonged to youâa place where dreams became your reality. youâd trained hard your whole life to make it to the world stage, and by 16, you were living your dream as one of the youngest members of the 2019 world cup roster for the united states.Â
the national anthem playing, crowds screaming your name as you made the assist to rose lavelleâs goalâit was everything youâd ever wanted.
all of the happiness and thrill faded away when you joined the kansas city current. when you first stepped into the locker room, you were excited. new teammates, new opportunitiesâit was everything youâd hoped for.Â
you wanted to make friends, to be part of a family when it came to being with your first professional club outside of your childhood one.Â
the moment you walked through those doors, you could feel something off. the eyes on you were sharp, intense, cold.
âwhatâs up, big foot?â macy had said, the team captain, with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.Â
"don't trip over those feet, yeah?" she had laughed, and a few others joined in, but the laughter felt harsh, mocking.
âyeah, we donât need a kid coming in thinking sheâs hot shit,â added jessica, one of the veteran players, her words dripping with sarcasm.Â
âtry not to embarrass us out there.â
you laughed nervously, trying to brush it off as rookie hazing, but the tone was sharper than you expected. you told yourself that it was normal, that it was just their way of breaking the ice.
Â
you couldn't have been more wrong.
practices started to become a war zone. it wasnât just intense training; it was like they were out to get you. elbows to your back when the coach wasnât looking, hair pulling, shoes clipped behind your heels to send you stumbling.Â
once, in a scrimmage, you remember trying to dribble past jessica. the curly-red headed girl came in late with a slide tackle, her studs connecting straight with your shin. you hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, and she stood over you, smirking.
âwhoops,â she said, her voice flat and unapologetic. âyou should be quicker, portland has fast forwards and you canât defend them with those legs.â
the coaches didnât do anything. youâd get up, limp back into position, and hear them say, âcome on y/n, toughen up. youâve got to be ready for contact against portland on thursday.âÂ
they acted like it was all normal, like you were the problem.
in the locker room, it wasnât any better. they whispered behind your back, cruel comments about your skills, your looks, even your voice.Â
once, after a tough practice where arianna had practically shoved you into the goalpost, you were struggling to keep your emotions in check as you unlaced your cleats. you heard them in the back of the room, their voices loud and taunting.
âseriously, what does the national team see in her? sheâs not even that great,â jessica said, snickering.
âguess they needed a token teenager to fill the roster,â another voice added, followed by laughter.Â
âshe needs to go back to playing with the u18s, kylie youâd do much better than her in the left-back position!â
you bit your lip so hard it bled, staring down at the floor, pretending you didnât hear them. you never knew what to say. it felt like you couldnât breathe.Â
everything you did felt wrong, like you were walking on eggshells every day.
and then came the night that broke you.
it was after that world cup loss to sweden, a moment that already weighed on you like a thousand bricks.Â
you returned to kansas hoping to throw yourself into training, to prove you could bounce back. but when you entered the locker room, your world came crashing down. your locker was trashedâlike a hurricane had blown through.Â
your training kit was shredded, your cleats filled with some kind of foul-smelling gunkâ obviously period blood due to a used tampon found inside of the locker. and scrawled in black marker across the inside door of your locker were the words,Â
spoiled, selfish, fat bitch!
you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, hands shaking so violently you couldnât steady them.Â
âwhat... what the fuck is this?â your voice came out a choked whisper.
kamryn, another girl on the team, walked by, a smug grin on her face.Â
âlooks like someone had a bad month,â she said, fake sympathy dripping from her words.Â
âi hope you can still play tomorrow, stargirl.â
the nickname fans around the world called you, now being used to belittle you.Â
you couldnât hold it in anymore. you yelled at them, your voice cracking with rage and desperation, âthe fuck? what did i do to any of you? this is fucking insane and you think i am the problem?â
âyou walked in here thinking you were better than us. you got handed everything, y/n. you donât deserve to be here. youâre a little girl playing a big girlâs game.â jessica walked in, scoffing while smirking at the sight of your locker in the dressing room.
you left that night and didnât stop crying until your eyes were red and swollen. but even then, the coaches did nothing.Â
they told you to toughen up, to show âmental strength,â as if their approval could patch over what you were going through. and thatâs when you realized you had to get outâbefore this place destroyed you and any love you had for football.
barcelona was the escape you desperately needed. a chance to rebuild, to breathe.Â
when you landed in spain, everything felt fragile. it didnât matter that you were now with one of the best clubs in the world.Â
the trauma from kansas stuck to you like a shadow. you walked into your new locker room, keeping your head down, afraid to say the wrong thing, terrified of the laughter you thought youâd hear.
but it never came.Â
instead, alexia, the captain, was the first to welcome you. ây/n! niña!!! so nice to finally meet you,â she beamed, pulling you into a hug that felt warm and real.Â
âi canât wait to see you play. youâre from the states? we need to introduce you to keira and lucyâ theyâve been wanting to meet you but donât take their banter seriously.â
every day, they chipped away at your fear. little by little.Â
when you struggled on penalty kicks one time during training, patri stayed back with you after practice.Â
âokay you got this!!! by the end of this evening, you will never miss a penalty kick again. trust me! yeah? itâll be fun.â she speaks with a thick catalan accent.Â
you were hesitant, scared to mess up, but patri never pushed. she was patient, kind. sheâd pass the ball back to you and made you do penalty kicks over and over again until you felt comfortable, until your footwork was smooth, and every small achievement she celebrated like it was a goal in the final.Â
âsee? youâve got this,â sheâd say, and youâd feel the corners of your mouth tug into a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.
it was a few weeks into your time with barcelona, but you still felt like an outsider.Â
even with the kind gestures, the smiles, the support from the team, you were carrying the weight of kansas like a ghost.Â
you stayed quiet during team meetings, laughed politely but never loudly, and when the others shared jokes or talked about life outside of soccer, you sat on the edges, half-invisible.Â
alexia had been watching you. she noticed how you shrunk into yourself, how you seemed to fade into the background during conversations.Â
during drills, your focus was laser-sharpâtoo sharp, like you were overthinking every touch, every pass. when you were off the ball, your eyes darted around, like you were searching for threats.Â
you reminded alexia of esmee when she first arrived last seasonânew, uncertain. but this was different.Â
there was fear and sadness in your eyes.
one afternoon after training, alexia pulled you aside. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the pitch, and most of the team had already started heading back to the locker room.Â
you felt her hand on your shoulder, and you turned, trying to hide the nervousness in your eyes.
âniña,â she said gently, a small smile on her lips. âcan we talk?â
you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. âsure, alexia. whatâs up?â
âitâs about you,â she said, her voice steady but soft. âyouâve been⊠quiet. more quiet than normal. and i get it, you know, being the new girl and all. esmee and kika were shy when they first came, butâŠâ alexia paused, searching your face.Â
âthis feels different. it feels like youâre afraid of us.â
you could feel your chest tighten, the words getting stuck in your throat. you didnât want to seem weak, didnât want to burden anyone.Â
âiâm not... i mean, itâs justâ" you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right thing to say, something that wouldnât make you sound like a mess. âitâs nothing. really.â
alexia didnât buy it. she shook her head slightly, taking a step closer to you. âi donât think itâs nothing, y/n. you barely look anyone in the eye, and when someone even brushes by you during training, you flinch like youâre waiting to get hurt. itâs not normal.âÂ
she kept her voice calm, steady, like she was trying to reassure a frightened animal. âlisten... if something happened before you got here, you can talk to me. itâs just me right now. no one else.â
you wanted to brush it off, to laugh and say she was overthinking, but the truth clawed its way up, burning your throat. you clenched your fists, staring down at your cleats, trying to focus on anything but alexia's eyes, which felt like they could see right through you.Â
âitâs⊠itâs hard to talk about,â you finally admitted, voice cracking on the last word.Â
âback in kansas, things were... bad. really bad.â
âwhat do you mean?â alexiaâs voice was a whisper, gentle but urging you to continue. she stepped closer, her hand on your shoulder now, warm and steady.
you bit your lip, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill.Â
âmy teammatesâthey hated me. from the minute i got there, they acted like i was the opponent that happened to sneak into their dressing room. i thought maybe it was just... i don't know, maybe i did something wrong. but no matter what i did, they just got worse. they... they bullied me. on the field, off the field... theyâd make comments, call me fat, trash my stuff, physically go after me during practice.â you took a shaky breath, your shoulders trembling.Â
âthey hated me for being goodâ for being called up to the world cup before some of their veterans did. they said i didnât deserve the call ups at all, that i was useless. every single day felt like... like a war that i was going to lose.â
alexiaâs face hardened, and for a second, you thought you saw anger glistening in her eyes.
âand your coaches?â she asked, voice tight with anger. âthey did nothing?â
âthey... didnât care,â you said, shaking your head.Â
âif anything, they made it worse. told me to toughen up, to get used to it, that it was part of being a pro. so i did. i tried to act like it didnât bother me. but it did. every day, it did.â
there was a heavy silence. alexia didnât speak for a moment, letting your words hang in the air. and then, she pulled you into a hugâtight, secure, like she was trying to shield you from all the pain you had gone through.Â
you stiffened for a second, unaccustomed to the softness, the genuine care, but then melted into it, burying your face in her shoulder.
âyou donât have to go through that alone anymore,â she whispered.Â
âthis is your home now, y/n. weâre your family. i promise youâno one will ever treat you like that again. not while iâm here, and i am going to be here for a very long time.â
you felt the tears slide down your face, but they werenât tears of pain anymore.Â
they were relief, a feeling you hadnât let yourself feel for a long time. when she finally let go, alexia cupped your face, making sure you were looking right into her eyes.
âyou are so much more than what they made you feel,â she said firmly, her voice laced with emotion. âand if anyone even tries to make you feel like that again, theyâll have to go through me. through all of us. okay?â
you nodded, a small, shaky smile breaking through. âokay.â
âdid you go to anyone on your national team about this?â alexia asked, hoping you did.Â
âi did. alex was the one who encourage me to move clubs. trinity even promised to smash kansas when they go to washington dc to play against spirit.â you laughed, wiping a stray tear from your face.
she laughed back, squeezing your hands. âweâve got your back, y/n. always.â
and she meant it. over the coming weeks, you felt the shift.
after that talk, alexia made it a point to check in on you.Â
the small gestures from the team slowly healed the wounds you didn't think would ever close.Â
when ingrid left you notes in your locker before every match with scribbled encouragements, kika making it a routine to kiss you on the head when you scored a goal past aitana in training, or when mapi pulled you into a bear hug after a tough game reminding you that she is proud of youâ you felt at home.Â
masterlist
#barcelona femeni#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso community#fc barcelona#alexia putellas#mapi leon#ingrid engen#kika nazareth#trinity rodman
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E-boys Ruined my Life: Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader
Chapter 1: Love at First Sight
[series summary]: you had a crush on Megumi for so long, you hoped you would meet him again. But now, as you stand before him, you realize that Fushiguro Megumi is not the same kid as he was at fifteen- he was taller, broader and far more handsome than ever. And a whole lot meaner to you.
[synopsis]: Being friends with the IT GIRLS as a first year has a lot of perks; new friends, a popularity boost and crossing paths constantly with your high school crush after many years apart, Megumi Fushiguro. this is a heavily edited and revised chapter.
[cw]: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, aged up characters, classism - elitism, sexism/misogyny, unhealthy body image, violence, mentions of bullying and suicidal ideation, slut shaming, objectification, parasocial relationships, gaslighting, manipulation, sex between characters, brief mention of teenagers fooling around.
[r-18+] (not suitable for 17 and under)
[wc] 13.5k
[masterlist] [chapter 2] [taglist] [playlist] [main]
  THEREâS just something so thrilling about having positive attention.
Each step you take down the campus quad has heads turning your way in awe. Decked in original pink juicy couture tracks, white Nike sneakers with pink highlights and your white hermes bag hanging off your arm, you strutted onwards with your head held up high. Everything about you screamed perfection, from your proper posture to your brand new hair-do, to your freshly microbladed brows, to your light âclean girlâ makeup that accented your best features, down to new manipedi you got.
Things you took care of no matter how much pain or discomfort you were in. And it was worth every hot wax pulled off your skin.
All eyes were on you, stopping in their tracks just to admire your beauty. You could hear whistles and compliments being thrown at you from all sides, but you pay no mind to them, instead scanning the surroundings until you spot a familiar blue haired girl sitting at the edge of the quad with the other girls. She notices you as well, breaking into a smile as she waves you over and you make your way to their spot excitedly, plopping yourself on the bench besides your friends.
The IT girls of Wilhelm Baldwin University; thatâs what the school dubbed your group, made up of the most popular girls in the school.
âHonestly, youâre one of the only people who Iâve seen wear a tracksuit and still look hot with it.â the blue haired girl, Miwa, spoke, her eyes admiring your outfit. She was the sweetest girl youâve ever met, coming from humble beginnings and doing everything she could to support her family as the sole breadwinner.
She started creating lifestyle and baking content on her tik tok as a way to pass time when she was bored, only for her to grow big overnight, appearing on shows, tours and other events. Now she settled to go to school, wanting an education and she makes lifestyle content about her chaotic days in university.
Everyone knew her as the nice girl of the group, always willing to let people down gently and helping people who asked. To outsiders Miwa was a saint. To the inner workings of your group, she could be a little misguided and thick headed at times. Despite all that, sheâs your closest friend and the first ever person you met on college campus, long before you became popular.
âItâs juicy couture Miwa. Of course itâs gonna look good. Well on someone as hot as (name).â A blonde haired girl who was sitting across added.Â
Momo Nishimiya, a trust-fund baby whose parents practically own the legal world in the palm of their hands. With her father as a rather influential senator and her mother as the chief justice of the nation, Momo is set for life. You never let her five foot appearance fool you; just like her parents she was vicious, smart and could pull just the right strings to get people to do what she wanted.
Not even her dad was safe. The cherry red sportsâ car sitting in the schoolâs parking lot is a testament of how convincing she could be.
Youâre glad she was an ally and not an enemy.
âIâm just shocked that new money is finally wearing something original.â the girl with the short green hair sitting next to Momo says with a sly grin, her mocking tone grinding your gears.
Mai Zenin, the leader of the group and the bane of your fucking existence. Coming from a long line of generational wealth of the Zeninâs, Mai is the President of the biggest sorority in the nation, the Zeta house, a business major at the top of her class and an olympic gold medalist in the shooting range category.
It didnât help that she was also gorgeous and her pores were effortlessly clear, because by god was she infuriating and you wished there was just something you could say to knock her down a peg.
Cocking her head sideways, Maiâs pink lips curled up into a smirk as she placed her chin on her propped up hand. âIt is real Juicy Couture, right?â
âIt is real.â You quip back in a sickly sweet voice, returning a strained smile and resisting the urge to just jump her. âI thought old money could recognize real from fake, guess youâre not that good at spotting the difference.â
And then there is the newest addition to the group, you, (name) (last name). From the generous nickname Mai gave you, youâre new money after your mother married your step-father, a highly controversial marriage to the media. Being the youngest and only freshman to ever join the group without being in Maiâs sorority, youâve garnered attention within just months of entering the university.
You would think you would have done something noteworthy for the entire school to notice you; but no thatâs not what happened.
Youâre popular because youâre the hottest girl on campus.
No seriously.
There was a stupid ranking of the hottest freshman girl and you won. Not a sorority sister or some girl rushing for a sorority, nor a much more wealthy socialite who had years of money to keep looking hot. You assumed that with the worldâs weird beauty standards you would barely be noticed, which was fine, but somehow the university decided they liked you and they liked the way you looked.
You went from being a homebody glued to your screen to being invited out by other girls to gatherings, getting free things on campus and being asked out every 3-7 business days.
And who was Mai to ignore the opportunity of a rising star?
Mai laughed at your clap back, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned back on the picnic chair. âDonât be mad at me, I saved you from a scandal by giving you valid criticism. Imagine if the tabloids caught you wearing fake Vancleef, â(Last name) - Nanami caught wearing a dupe, is the mother-daughter duo still stuck with their penny pinching ways?â Is that the kind of news youâd want following you around, new money?â
You gritted your teeth in frustration, recalling exactly how you got into that mess which heavily involved Mai Zenin. âYou were the one who sent me to that store in the first place.â
âI was trying to teach you how to tell whatâs a dupe and whatâs not. And itâs paying off. You look so much better in original clothes.â
âWhy you-â
âLadies enough! Hearing about dupes makes my head hurt.â Momo cuts in, ending the argument before it could escalate any further. Both you and Mai instantly back down from the heated argument, still glaring down at each other. âAnd where is that pledge with our drinks? Iâm really not in the mood to get through the day without my fix of espresso.â
âYouâre just antsy cause you pulled an all-nighter with some project.â Mai teased her blonde friend, suddenly in a good mood again. âI told you to give that shit to some poor nerd who needs the money to do it for you.â
âIâd rather not. Most of them are so mediocre in their academic papers, it makes my skin crawl -â
You tune out the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear the two girls talk about how poor people are dumb losers and how much better they are compared to people of lower class, picking up your phone and going straight to instagram. Mindlessly, you scrolled through your feed, only liking pictures of hot guys, your friends and food content, really nothing out of the ordinary with your feed.
Sometimes you wonder if this was going to be your college experience.
You had barely just entered school and already you were at the top of the food chain, which was good for you. Being the newest socialite, you knew it would be hard for anyone to respect you.Â
It was different for someone like Miwa, who made the money by herself. She had more respect from wealthy people, than you who by proxy inherited it by your mother marrying into money.
Your dumb luck has saved you from being known as the gold diggerâs daughter and youâre grateful for it.
Anyone would kill to be in your position right now and yet, you feel like youâre wasting away. There are so many restrictions attached to the lifestyle youâre living, so many clubs you canât join because you let Mai dictate what you can or canât do.
âThe Wilhelm Baldwin University Theatre is inviting you to our play production, Legally Blonde on 26th Nov 2024.â
You hover on the instagram post on your schoolâs official account, staring at it sadly as you think about your situation. Something twists in your heart at the e-poster, a solemn smile making its way to your face. A distant past where you would have jumped at the opportunity to be involved in the arts flashes back into your mind.
âPerhaps there is truly a price for fame and popularityâŠâ
âHey, isnât that the play by the Universityâs theatre club?â
Youâre quickly snapped out of your thoughts by Miwa, but soon your shock turns to annoyance when you realise she was looking into your phone while you were distracted. Before you could reprimand her, Mai and Momo quickly shifted their attention to what she had said, clearly interested in the newest information, their faces twisted into ugly smirks.
âThose Juillard wannabees are hosting a play? Thatâs rich. What are they gonna do? Another shitty rendition of Romeo and Juliet?â
You internally cringe at Maiâs scornful tone but you couldnât deny her words. Your schoolâs theatre program is rather underfunded, putting more money in your cheer team, football squad and fraternities. Only people either on scholarships or who are currently knee-deep in college debt make up the majority of the program's occupants.
Another difference between class divisions in this school.
Before you could say anything to change the topic, Momo snatches your phone from your hand and takes a good look at the poster. âTheyâre doing Legally Blonde?? These bottom feeders are literally cosplaying a socialite. Be for realâ
The two girls burst into laughter, nearly knocking over your expensive iphone as if itâs the funniest thing on earth. Miwa bites her lip, a look of guilt crossing over her face the moment she sees your fists clenched underneath the table in annoyance. Youâre quick to take slow deep breaths, counting from one - ten as the two older girls continued to berate the play between scornful laughter.
âWait wait, let's check the castingâŠâ Mai says between gasps, scrolling to see the people playing the characters. A feeling of dread washes down your body when you see her sneer at the first picture. âHana Kurusu is the person they picked to be THE Elle Woods? THEY picked a girl who wears shoes from goodwill to play Elle woods? Who casted this?â
âIâm pretty sure they donât base their criteria for casting based on where you get shoes fromâ
âSheâs not even close to being hot.â Momo adds, her tone tinged with pure disgust. âI canât believe they picked her.â
âMaybe sheâs a good actress.â Miwa says in a dead tone, trying to salvage the situation. The older girls look at Miwa as if sheâs grown two heads, before sighing and shaking their heads like sheâs an impetuous child. âLook, Miwa-chan, I know youâre a sweetheart but you know none of those theatre kids have any talent. They take in anyone, ANYONE. New money can agree with me on this one.â
All eyes turned to you, expectant of your answer. Anxiousness creeps onto your skin as the spotlight is put on you, all your anger dissipating as Maiâs gaze burns deep into your soul, waiting for you to agree with her. As much as youâre usually going toe to toe with Mai, you know your spot with the IT girls was still tentative. This is one of the arguments that could make or break you; while she loves being challenged, Mai will never forgive you if you show sympathy for any person she considers beneath her status.
On one hand, you could risk Mai genuinely hating you and making her your enemy by telling her the truth, that Hana truly has more talent than Mai ever will.
On the other handâŠ
You plucked your phone from Momoâs hand, taking a good look at the picture before throwing your phone aside dramatically, gagging in disgust. âEwwww, thatâs the girl that wears that ugly sweater from Costco three times a week. I hope her acting isn't as ugly as her fashion sense.â
Your comment breaks the tension, making the three girls - yes even Miwa - bark with laughter, nearly losing their minds at your reaction, sealing the deal. You settle into a small smile as the pledge brings your drinks to the table, placing your frappuccino in front of you. You carefully sip your drink, washing down the bitter taste of guilt with its sweetness.
âKeep your friends close and wealthy friends with connections closer.â
   ZENIN Megumi hated Trending Tuesdays on the T with a burning passion.
He hated a lot of things, to be fair, but this was at the top of the list of things he hated. It was like a dick measuring contest that some of his classmates did in high school, only on a much larger scale involving a bunch of grown adults who should be doing something better than watching the latest trend on a thinly veiled gossip blog masquerading as the schoolâs website.
The fraternity usually got louder during Trending Tuesdays, hollering about the newest girl they considered hot and who was not or what guy did the craziest thing. Usually on these kinds of days, Megumi would go up to his private room and smoke whilst blasting music or playing League of Legends, but now as the president of his fraternity, he has responsibilities. He has to be present, even if it killed him on the inside, at least to encourage this stupid bonding activity or whatever his vice-president, Yuuji Itadori told him.
âArenât you going to show the slightest interest in Trending Tuesdays?â
Speak of the devil.
Megumi turns his attention from the book heâs reading, âThe Godfatherâ to Yuuji Itadori. The pink haired man had always been there for him since Megumi moved schools; even as he fell into deeper darkness as he spent more time with the Zenins, he and that crazy bitch Nobara stood beside him. Yuuji was the more fun one, much more cut out to be the president of the Fraternity in Megumiâs opinion, even though heâd say otherwise. He has been so invested in Trending Tuesdays as a tradition and perhaps thatâs why he wants Megumi to be more involved this year.
âYou want me to huddle over a phone with other guys to see what girl half of the fraternity will jerk off to tonight?â Megumi crosses his arms. He knows heâll cave eventually because itâs Yuuji, but heâs not going to make it easy for him either. âIsnât my presence while this madness is going on in the common room enough?â
âCome onnnn! Togeâs gonna put it on the TV anyways so you wonât have to rub shoulders with peopleâ Yuuji groans childishly, making the dark haired man roll his eyes in response. Sometimes his friend can be so irritating whenever he wants him to do something, especially if it involves socialising with people. âWe just have one more year before we graduate, arenât you in the slightest curious about it?â
âNo.â
âBut itâs like a team bonding exercise! Besides, you might see a girl youâll actually like in this school.â
Megumi almost wants to laugh at Yuujiâs statement. Itâs just as ridiculous as the elders in the Zenin family who keep insisting for him to at least have a main girl so that the future of their bloodline is secure. Only that Yuuji thinks that Megumi is only sleeping with different girls cause he hasnât found the right one yet.
At least the Zeninâs are not naĂŻve to his real intentions.
âAs long as it's not school sanctioned, I donât care.â
His blunt tone deflates Yuujiâs cheerful mood once more and for a brief moment Megumi thinks heâs worn Yuuji down, returning to read his book in peace.
âPleasePleasePleasePleasePlease-â
Sick of Yuujiâs incessant nagging, the dark haired man barked out âIâm coming, Iâm coming!â throwing the novel aside and storming off, Yuuji following behind with a shit eating grin.
  THE second he enters the common room, the once chattering room goes silent.
Megumi isnât new to his frat brothers fearing him. He is not a particularly friendly face with his usual grumpy expression and towering height, and he has the personality to match, quiet with a stern personality. It could be his policies that make them instantly shape up whenever he is around, scared that heâd lash out at them at any moment or expel them for the slightest mistake.
Itâs not like their fears are unfounded though. But he only punishes annoyances and as long as they stay out of his way and his room, theyâre safe.
They clear the way for him and Yuuji, letting them walk to the largest chair in the common room, greetings of âGood day Presidentâ âGood day vice-presidentâ echoing throughout the room. Yuuji is the only one that responds, telling them to loosen up. âWeâre just here for trending Tuesdays. No oneâs gonna get in trouble today for being rowdy, right, Zenin?â
âWeâll see.â
A white haired male was already perched on their usual seat, brows pinched in concentration as he connected his phone's bluetooth to the television. The man raised his head, his sour expression quickly turning to shock when he saw Megumi standing in front of him. He looked from Megumi to Yuuji, discarding his phone to put a hand in front of his face, bending his fingers in and out, his lips mimicking Megumiâs usual grouchy frown.
âHow the hell did you get Mr. Grumpy out of his room for Trending Tuesday? You didnât offer him a free fuck like one of his whores, right?â
Megumi felt his eye twitch as Yuuji snorted at the comment. before rapidly signing back. âFuck you, Toge.â
Toge rolled his eyes at Megumi in response, before moving aside so that he and Yuuji could sit and the common room goes back to their chattering as before when they realise Megumi wasnât doing any official duties today.
Toge Inumaki was a senior majoring in robotics engineering, their fraternities treasurer, as well as a grade one menace to society.
People make the mistake of assuming heâs a quiet guy because he doesnât say anything and think heâs this sort of mysterious and cool person who keeps to himself, not knowing that heâs mute, deaf in his right ear and partially deaf in his left, always donning his hearing aids. Toge doesnât bother clearing up the rumours, rather taking glee in watching people try to get close to him to get him to âopen upâ, only to be horrified when they realise his disability and feel immense guilt right after.
Yuuji had tried talking him out of it, but he defended his actions with, âThatâs what they get for treating me like a social experiment. They wanna be friends with the quiet rich kid to get favours.â
Megumi doesnât blame him. Ever since meeting Toge, when he moved high schools, he knew that people either treat him as the introverted project they want to take on or the poor disabled kid who no one understands, but never a human being.
Sometimes, people would straight up not believe him that he canât hear them without his aid because heâs âtoo cute to be disabledâ.
Even his parents are weird around him, never once attempting to learn sign language themselves since it would be too âtaskingâ.
It hasnât damped Togeâs sense of humour regardless. Anyone who knows Toge and knows sign language knows that the white haired man is a talkative with a filthy mouth. Heâs a prankster and pledges are advised to avoid him, seeing as theyâre the most susceptible to his rather cruel jokes.
Girls seem to like him though, if the irritating screams of pleasure that keeps everyone else up at night every time he has a study partner were anything to go by.
Toge goes straight to the schoolâs website, the T and the website comes up, a large TRENDING TUESDAY typed in cursive letters was at the top of the blog post. Realising that he was out of his element, Megumi turns to Yuuji to ask âSo how does this work again?â
âWell, trending Tuesdays are all about who is or are the most influential students in school today. Whether itâs pranks, or the cutest couple or even someone that did something impressive today, it all depends on who had the most impact. They write a short blurb and say something about the person.â Yuuji doesnât turn his attention away from the screen as he continues. âYouâve always been in the top three since you entered this school.â
âIs that so?â
Megumi shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile on his lips. Sure, he hates the T and thinks itâs a pointless program but being at the top without even trying feeds his large ego a little bit.
Toge scrolls up the page, ignoring the people at the hundredth place because theyâre obviously irrelevant and gets to the top twenty. A picture of a girl with white hair in short bob wearing a white sweater and black pants in one picture, and a blonde wig in another wearing a hot pink suit in another comes up.
âHana Kurusu, the head of the theatre club is the first to spearhead a high end production of legally blonde. While weâre really happy for her, letâs not get our hopes up, this play is going to be garbage fire-â
Megumi quickly tunes out the rest of the post and the rest of the frat talking about how the musical will be dog shit, not really interested in anything about Hana. Sure, sheâs a decent fuck and she does whatever he wants, including keeping her mouth shut about their arrangement but that didnât mean he cared about her.
âDamn, they really ripped the theatre kids a new one. I donât think they deserve thatâ Yuuji murmurs.
âThe T didnât lie, I tried giving theatre a chance for a hot girl who was super into it. I ended up taking off my hearing aids mid-performance because I didnât pay to hear such shit actingâ
âToge!â
âIt was a shame, she had really nice tits but she canât sing or act for shit. Instant turn off. Why do something youâre shit at?â
Megumi nods in agreement, replying to Togeâs argument. âOnly broke kids join theatre to be part of something. The fee is low and they think theyâll make it in Hollywood since they schooled here.â
The rest of the top 15 were uneventful, apart from Yuuji at number 6 who practically broke a school record in track and field, set up by the fastest runner in â08, Zenin Naoya - Megumiâs shitty cousin amongst the sea of shit family members he has.
As usual, Yuuji shrugs it off despite everyone screaming in shock and congratulating him, saying it's not a big deal. Maybe itâs because heâs a beast at almost every sport he touches that heâs so humble with his achievement. All his years of knowing Yuuji from high school, he has always remained humble and friendly, never letting his success get to his head.
Heâs sure if Naoya ever finds out, heâd be pissed.
Good.
Finally they make it to the top five, the most anticipated people that everyone is always curious about. Usually, the top five is not just about achievements, itâs about looks, itâs about charisma, it about how much people thirst over them.
They encapsulate the true shallowness of the student body.
âAt number five, itâs Momo Nishimiya. Winning the debate nationals and making it as the head of the national model UN, there are big things awaiting the beauty with brains from the IT girls group. Iâm sure I see another cherry red sports car in ms. Nishimiyaâs future or another trip to the Bahamas as a celebration! Make sure to post those Bikini pics babeâ
âPreferably the latter.â Some of the frat boys murmured, their voices dripping with lust that itâs nearly pathetic. âIâve got to see her in a bikini again or Iâll kill myself.â
âI hope you do, youâre actually annoying.â
Megumi doesnât stop them from being nasty little perverts though. In his opinion, it's just the way boys talk, especially when theyâre with their fellow guys.
Itâs not like they mean any harm by being horny.
âAt number four, making it to the cover of Independent and a guest appearance on the Tonight Show, Mai Zenin. Well, are we really surprised to see ms. hot stuff, perfect ass at the top?
Running the school with an Iron fist, Mai, the leader of the IT girls has always maintained her relevance from the second she won an olympic gold medal in shooting range. A mixture of grace and smarts, there is always a spot for her in the top five.â
Megumi sighs the second he sees Maiâs magazine cover; wearing a rather sexualized version of a chesogam, she leans on a chair with her legs crossed, the long slit giving view of her long legs. Her smile is sultry, never reaching her eyes.
He has never seen her ever smile genuinely before in all the time he spent in the Zenin household. Not that he blames her, the way they treated women in that place was nothing to smile about.
The frat boys all but bark at her pictures, each hungry for something, shouting profainities about how much they want to fuck her. Itadori opens his mouth to say something, but Megumi clamps a hand over his shoulders and tells him to settle down. âDonât worry, let them have their fun. Itâs nothing serious.â
Normally Megumi would stop them, but he thinks theyâre cute. Theyâre so cute thinking they even have a chance with Mai of all people. If there was something Megumi liked about Mai, it was that she had standards.
If she was going to be treated like shit, might as well be treated like shit wearing Louis Vuitton and Hermes.
He turns his attention to the next one on the list and his smile instantly drops the second he sees Maki at number 3. The T has a weird habit of pitting Maki and Mai against each other, and while Maki wouldnât care about this shit, Mai does.
The Zeninâs had imprinted it that women must be in constant competition for affection because how much they are loved is how much they are valued. Maki thinks everything the Zenin says is bullshit, including that whole line about affection. Mai, however, is a different story. She has internalised that information so much that she spends so much time caring about her reputation to her detriment.
âAt the proud number three is our nationi8nal MMA champion, Maki Zenin! This week she defeated the previously undefeated title holder, Sena. Iâm not usually into muscular women but goddamn does she look hot while beating in someoneâs face with her fists. Step on me mommy-â
Uncomfortable with reading the rest of that sentence, Megumi quickly signs desperately with Yuuji laughing at him in the background. âScroll up, scroll up.â
Luckily for him, Toge also seemed uncomfortable because the last thing he wants to see is someone thirsting over his best friend and scrolling away, landing on the number two name on the list.
âAnd coming up to the number two is Zenin Megumi, the schoolâs resident mysterious hottie who happens to be recruiting new pledges for the Alpha Beta frat house.
How he divides his time between posing for the house of Gojoâs fashion line, shirtless and at the same time stays on top of his business class is some what a mystery, not that Iâm complaining though cause FUCK HEâS HOTâŠâ
Megumi groans in his hands as a picture of him posing shirtless with flared jeans, whilst manspreading comes on screen for the entire frat house to see.
The entire house grows quiet, before whispers of âis it okay to have a crush on our president- in a manly kind of way?â And âhe looks so majestic, thatâs our president! I need his gym routine-â start floating in the air, only making Megumi grow more annoyed, almost as if heâs not in the room with them.
Yuuji places a hand on his shoulder with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying watching Megumi suffer. âDonât be shy. You should be proud of your-â
âShut the fuck up and tell Toge to get that shit off the screen before I hear another person ask if itâs okay they get off to pictures of me.â
Amused, Yuuji turns to Toge, signing Megumiâs message to which he lets out a weird snort like laughter, before scrolling up to the moment everyone has been waiting for: The number one spot. He can hear some people drawing in a deep breath, waiting for the next person until the blurb flashes on the screen.
âAt the number one spot; the stunning beauty of University that has gripped our hearts and our nether regions. Voted the sexiest girl on campus the second we saw her in the freshman group taking a tour, (Name) (Last name)-Nanami!
Dressed in a cute Juicy Couture that makes her ass look juusst right, (name) has taken the entire school and the socialite scene by storm.
By the way, happy belated eighteenth birthday princess. Now that you are legal, I can proudly say I and the majority of the guys in this school have jerked off to your birthday bikini pics with zero guilt. And also, thanks to you the juicy couture section in the mall not too far away and the goodwill a few blocks over is sold out. Youâre an icon babe, keep being you.â
âFUCK YES ITâS HER AGAIN!â
âPlease, please, please marry me (name), Iâll dump my girlfriend for you! Fuck Iâll set a car on fire for you-â
âI hope her nudes leak or something, thatâs the only way Iâll see her naked because sheâs way too good for me.â
Megumi doesnât think too much of it, ignoring all the crazy things his fraternity brothers are saying. But someone else has an opposite opinion.
âOh God, not her again.â
Megumi raises a brow, curious at Yuujiâs reaction. It was strange for the friendly man to sound so annoyed over someone, especially somebody so new to this school and seemingly beloved by the student body. Usually, heâs the one to have qualms about the person and Yuuji would have to talk him into being less suspicious about the person.
His friend had no malicious bone in his body. Or maybe thereâs a side to Yuuji even he doesnât know about.
âYou donât sound too happy.â
âNo⊠thatâs not what⊠you donât know who she is, do you?â His pink haired friend only groans in response, increasingly getting more agitated for some reason. Megumi shakes his head negatively in response and Yuuji sighs. âRemember when my dad got married like last year? Thatâs my step-momâs daughter ⊠my step-sister.â
âOhâ
Back in December it was trending news that the owner of the best winery in the world, Nanami Kento was getting married to a deaf, single mother. The Zeninâs were pissed because Nanami chose âdamaged goodsâ over the barely legal teen they arranged so that they could partner with him. But since Megumi wasnât interested in such a topic and he was just happy the elders were miserable that winter, he didnât bother to look into it.
No wonder Yuuji looked more irritated with every passing moment. The pink haired boy always seemed to be concerned about his family members whenever the tabloids said something nasty about them and was fiercely protective of them. It could be why Yuuji doesnât bring her around the fraternity house or barely mentions her, so that people wonât try to use him to get to her.
âSheâs just eighteen Megs.â Yuujiâs grave tone rouses Megumi from his thoughts. Poor guy, itâs really bothering him, whatâs going on with his sister. âItâs not been up to three months since she got here and the comments the T has made about her body are disgusting. She pretends like it doesnât bother her but Iâm sure that she hates it deep down.â
He can relate to Yuuji right now; back in high school he would overhear guys talking about how much they want to screw his sister.
Unlike Yuuji though, he wasnât as patient.
âDonât think too much about the Tâs commentsâ Megumi reaches a comforting hand to Yuuji. Even though heâs sure the girl doesnât give a damn about his friend, he has to ease the pink haired manâs nerves somehow. âMaybe she truly doesnât think itâs too much of a big deal. She could be like that, you never know. Plus you know how the T is. Theyâre obsessed with the next hot thing and then they fall out of love with it.â
Besides, Megumi figures youâre just a shiny new thing thatâs trending now. And the thing about trends is that when thereâs nothing interesting or fantastic about them, they die out. âYuuji has nothing to worry aboutâ he muses to himself. âYouâre probably not that pretty to last long-â
The second Toge puts your picture on the screen, Megumi finds himself eating his words.
The admiration of your image by the other frat members becomes nothing but background noise as he stares at the t.v utterly transfixed. Your features were distinct in a way that could only be described as ethereal, breathtaking, exotic. Youâre wearing cute juicy couture sweats, something he thinks looked utterly tacky and overdone by all the blond girls in this school and yet you make it look expensive, like youâre the only one he wants to see it on. Your lips are pulled into a pretty smile that lights up your eyes, only highlighting your best features like your cheeks and your nose.
Heâs not one for looks, but by god you were one of the most gorgeous girls heâs ever set his eyes on.
âNo wonder you keep hiding her from us.â Toge signs, also nearly astonished by how beautiful you look. âYour sister is fucking hot man.â
âNot you too, Toge, sheâs barely eighteen, leave her alone-â
Megumi ignores the argument going on behind him, opting to keep looking at your picture. As much as heâs captivated by your beauty, thereâs this nagging feeling at the back of his mind that thereâs something familiar about you. He canât shake off the coincidence that you have the same first and last name as someone he used to know and you look like the prettier version of that person.
âIt canât be her.â He denies it in his head. The girl that he knew all those years ago would never have been able to afford this universityâs tuition without incurring a huge debt. Sheâd care too much about hurting her single momâs finances. He keeps staring at the picture and notices youâre holding up your boba drink in one hand, revealing the bracelets on your wrist, which he didnât pay attention to at first, until something purple and pink catches his eye.
âThat looks really cheap for her to be wearing- wait.â
He squints his eyes a little bit and sees the four letters written on the bracelet âGUMIâ boldy.
His mouth groes dry instantly.
âNo fucking way.â
There was a distant past where he was much more free to do whatever he wanted and he didnât have to worry about the responsibility of taking over the Zeninâs chain of businesses. There were many faceless people in that high school. There were people he brutally beat senseless and there were people who either feared or admired him from afar.
But you were the most memorable because you were a clingy little bitch.
While others avoided him like a plague, you were always beside him, offering to be his âfriendâ and following him around like fucking insect. You were a pimple-faced, annoying little tramp that he could barely stand.
He could have avoided your affection if he didnât beat up your bullies that day. He should have never pitied you when he saw you crying in the boys bathroom. It would have saved him the headache of being stuck with you for almost two years in high school.
The only reason he tolerated you for as long as he did was because of Tsumiki. In hindsight, he blames his deceased sister for encouraging your borderline obsession with him because she thought it was cute. He wonders if romantically and mentally youâve changed. If youâve grown out of your childish crush on him and forgotten all about your âGumiâ and âFushiguro-kunâ, the things you used to call him with your shrill voice.
When he left that dreaded Academy, he made sure that no one called him âGumiâ ever. He resented that nickname, because it reminded him of you.
You looked happy, fitting right into a society that once rejected you with your pretty hair and manicured nails. Long gone was the wimp that hid behind him, that had to rely on food stamps on your worst days; now youâre a spoiled little brat, having the time of your life without inheriting the responsibility of being a wealthy socialite like he did.
It just made Megumi hate you even more. While heâs stuck with the Zenin clan and paying the price of wealth, you donât have to do anything. Youâre happy. How the hell is any of that fair to him?
Why do you get to be happy?
âYouâre staring a bit too hard at the picture, Zenin. Donât tell me you wanna fuck her too?â
He considers telling the pink haired man that he knew you and all about your pathetic crush on him for a brief moment, but quickly discarded that plan. Like Tsumiki, Yuuji would get the wrong idea and try to get them together.
Instead he rolled his eyes and said in the most bland voice he could muster.
âNot my type.â
Yuuji looks at the tips of Megumiâs ears, noticing them turn red before looking at the boy again with narrowed eyes.
âSure.â
  YOU hated dinners with your âfamilyâ.
Your step-dad, Nanami Kento was not much of a conversationalist and he ate in silence, except to ask to pass the water jug. Your mother was a try-hard, always asking how school is like for both you and Yuuji, like youâre teenagers attending high school and not university students. Yuuji was also a try hard, answering your motherâs questions like his life depended on it.
And you? You donât want to be here.
You love your mother and would do anything for her. She sacrificed so much for you so that youâd have an education, working so many jobs and encouraging you. Sure, she was a bit harsh on you when it came to your academics and you used to hate it, but you understood back then that she was giving you a chance she never had. With your father a deadbeat and your family members a bunch of self-righteous losers, it was you and her against the world.
But trying to play house with a step-father you barely knew and a brother who would never speak to you on school grounds was tethering on the edge of your patience that you feel lucky that you only have to do this once a week.
Couple that with the stressful day you had in university from dealing with Mai, to the disgusting and perverted comment section on your trending tuesdays posts -that Mai told you to âget used to itâ when you said you hated them and wanted it to stop, to nearly being late in submitting an assignment only to be told âlooks can only get you so farâ as if youâre not trying your hardest in school, youâre just about done with everything.
All you want to do is eat and sleep in your own bed.
The only good thing about your dinner is the unripe plantain, your favourite meal and youâre shocked the chefs made it after debating with your mother about making ethnic foods for her. Maybe your step-father had some choice words with them.
âSo howâs school been for you baby girl?â
You internally groan at your motherâs question as your step-father and Yuuji turn their attention towards you. âItâs okay.â you sign back, before continuing with your food, hoping that your mother would get the message that you donât want to talk about it.
As your luck could have it, your mother did not like the reply. âWhat do you mean, Okay?â she signs, her brows pinched together in irritation. âThatâs not an answer (name).â
âI donât want to talk about it.â
âOh come on baby (name), youâre in college, you should be having fun. I heard from some sources youâre very popular in your school which means youâve got to have friends right? Why donât you invite them over? Hell, you should have also met someone cute too that piques your interest or are you still pining over Gumi-â
Thereâs a tense atmosphere that cuts across the once awkward sphere of the table. Your step father stopped eating the second he saw the enraged look on your face, and his hands facing your mother trying to tell her to âstop-â only for her to aggressively shake her head in dismal, her next words pushing you over the edge. âNo, Kento! Sheâs our child and I have to ask her what sheâs been up to-â
âYou really want to know what Iâve been up to, mom?â You start to sign, your hands trembling in anger. âYou want to know how Iâm doing in my business course where no one takes me seriously because Iâm too pretty to be smart? Or you want to know how many âcute guysâ have threatened to assault me sexually or said something perverted about my body on a school post and how the school refused to take it down when I reported it? Or how I feel so out of place when you seem so well-adjusted with your husband and son, and your only solution is to throw a new black card at me and hope Iâm obedient? You really want to know?â
The entire dining table grows silent at your outburst by the time youâre done, heavily breathing as tears threaten to prickle your eyes. Your motherâs features soften, clearly affected by your words and for a second you feel guilty for getting angry at her. Instead, you said out loud whilst tossing your cutlery aside âIâm going to my room. Donât bother me.â and disappeared up the stairs despite your step father calling out your name until you made it to your room.
Flopping onto your canopy bed the second you enter your room, youâre quick to bury your head in your pillow and let out a guttural scream that youâve been holding all day. At this point, you donât care that youâre being rude, your life took a drastic turn the second you turned seventeen and youâve just been pretending to be okay with it. After years of it just being you and her, these two men barged into your life. You had to up and move from the friends you had finally managed to make, from all your plans to attend a community college for music to an expensive overpriced university in a business course that you hate and from your home that had all your memories into a large mansion that makes you feel insignificant.
You were quickly shuffled into a lifestyle that made you stand out because you werenât born into money. You had to mingle with people who reminded you of your bullies in high school and laugh with them like youâre not a step from having a mental breakdown, because you need to be significant, you need to network and fit in. You had to pretend you were fine because if you act out the media will drag your motherâs name in the mud.
And youâre all alone dealing with your feelings. Who were you going to tell how inauthentic you felt? How so out of place you felt despite your popularity and you just want to escape it all?
Mai would just tease you for being overdramatic. Momo would tell you that it is what it is as a female socialite and you should swallow it. Maybe Miwa might be sympathetic to your cause but then you remembered sheâs supposed to be editing her posts for tiktok tomorrow, so there is no time for you.
There was only one person who would have truly understood and you havenât seen him in five years.
Feeling nostalgic, you lean over your bed and retrieve a box from underneath. Carefully punching in the code, it opens with a quiet click revealing an old cream sweater kept in good condition, your high schoolâs logo stitched at the top, three pictures you got at a fair and your old iphone 4 that seems to still work, that all seem so reminiscent of a time so far away yet so close.
Long before you were the IT girl, before you were new money, the girl everyone wants and wants to be.
It was a time when things were so dark that you couldnât see the light at the end of the tunnel because you were relentlessly bullied for not being fortunate enough to have money in a school where the rich eat the vulnerable. You had considered ending it all, to stop your mom from constantly coming to school to complain only to return feeling more powerless than ever.
And then he came into your life.
You take the sweater in your arms, gently pressing your nose against the fabric to inhale his scent, preserving it all these years just for comfort. It takes you back to when you were 13, huddled up in a bathroom stall while cradling your broken fingers. You hated life so much back then and you really wanted to die to the point you were googling how many acetamin pills it would take to kill you with your uninjured hand, the bottle containing them just a few feet away from your shaking body. You couldnât play the harp that you loved because of them, you couldnât take the emotional abuse and you couldnât return home to break your motherâs heart by being a pathetic child.
You were planning to die in a boys bathroom stall, ready to swallow the pill when the door flew open. You instantly cowered in fear, spilling the entire bottle on the floor, your heart dropping to your stomach the second you set eyes on the schoolâs resident bully.
Fushiguro Megumi.
Back then you assumed he was going to laugh at you and then tell everyone what you tried to do. As much as you admired him from afar, you didnât trust him. You couldnât trust him. Maybe he was going to kick you aside and take a piss like one other guy had done when you were still barely conscious from earlier.
You didnât expect him to notice your broken fingers. Or even ask you who did the bullying. And when he did, you had begged him not to get the teacher involved, to which he said. âWho said Iâm telling anyone?â before disappearing. You were scared, wondering if heâd call them back to finish the job.
Instead, he dragged the bullies -male and female back to the bathroom for you to watch him beat them up and broke the arm of the guy who crushed your fingers. After he was done, he had taken your unbroken hand in his larger ones to help you up, warmth spreading into your shaking fingers as he steadied you, telling you to step on them.
âW-why?â
âRevenge. Catharsis. Fun.â he had said, his tone rueful. You looked at him with pure fear as he guided you to one the bullies, the girl who started it all. âB-but what if I get in trouble? Or they come for me and hurt me again-â
âDonât be a square. Iâm giving you a chance for payback, so be a good girl and take it.â
âB-but-â
âDo it. Iâll take the blame.â
And true to his word, he did take the blame for both your actions and was suspended for a day. When he came back, you clung onto him like glue, fearful youâd get hurt by those same bullies, but eventually giving way into your heart as you fell head over heels for him. The way he smiled when you said the dumbest stuff. The way his voice sounded, especially when he called your name. The way his hand swallows yours because of how big they were, his comforting scent, everything about Megumi was calming, comforting.
Even your first kiss with him was gentle, sparks flying as he cupped your face in his larger hands.
He could be a bit harsh on you and sometimes, he could say some mean things, he always made it up with some sweet gesture like buying your favourite strawberry drink or spending time with you while you practised the harp.
You loved him so much. You still love him so much. You canât look at any man the way you looked at him, and youâve tried. Mai has tried shoving you into a relationship with many guys to try and spice up your reputation but you couldnât let them even hold your hand, let alone kiss them.
Theyâre not him. Theyâll never be him.
Megumi was not the light at the end of your tunnel, but he took your broken hands in his and let you dance through the thick of the dark times of your life when no one else thought you deserved happiness.
You shed off your juicy couture jacket and shrug on his large sweater, collapsing into your bed with your arms wrapped around yourself. Any time you were upset with anything, you would call him and heâd either listen to you through your sobs or come over to your little house and sneak in with your favourite snacks to watch a movie with you and hold you tight whenever you said you wanted a hug. You wish he hadnât disappeared when he moved away, that he had at least left you with a number for you to call or text or anything instead of upping and leaving cold turkey.
Tears rolled down your face as you tried to picture him comforting you, over everything that had happened. âWant me to fuck them up?â Heâd ask in between murmurs and when youâd shake your head no, heâd click his tongue. He always loved solving problems with violence. âI should, for the way theyâre talking to you. You shouldnât let people take advantage of you.â
âI miss you Megumi. I miss you so much-â
A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts and youâre quick to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand. Not wanting any pity from whoever was at the door -most likely your mother- you put on your best resting bitch face before storming towards it before yanking it open.
Your frown only deepens when you see your step-father at the door. âDid she put you up to this?â Your voice was cold and from how his brows creased in response, you could see he was hurt.
He shakes his head negatively in response, about to say something when you cut him off again. âThe dad thing is not going to work, just leave me be.â
You close the door in his face, albeit rudely and flopped on your bed, curling yourself up into a tight ball and sobbing quietly until you fall asleep.
YOUR step-fatherâs solution to you being upset is to throw money at your face and tell you to âdo something nice for yourselfâ.
Mid-class you had received a cash-app alert attached with a message for you to âcheer up with this and tell Yuuji to take you shopping.â and while it annoyed you to no end that he assumed money made you happy, he wasnât exactly wrong.
You also suspect that he wants you to open up to Yuuji about your problems, as you both are closer in age; which is a dumb plan in hindsight because you know youâre not going to say shit to someone you barely interact with. Step-brother or not.
The second class dismissed you were out of the door, your Hermes bag slung over your arm. Perhaps your step-dad was right about retail therapy, you needed something to blow off steam with after the depressing night you had; being forced to relive your entire day and then cry yourself to sleep thinking about how much you miss Megumi so much.
What you need is to turn off your brain and buy new things that would make you happy, like new trinkets to add to your room.
Feeling giddy, you pick up your phone and go to the IT girls group chat, ready to invite them to your shopping spree since you didnât want to go on your shopping spree all alone.
âI should text the girls to see if theyâll hang out with me-â
You paused, stopping yourself in your tracks. Youâre trying to have fun, not be silently judged and have pictures taken of your spree and uploaded on the internet for weirdos to oogle.
âI need time alone, but not alone aloneâ you say to yourself. âYuujiâs the better option, at least heâll keep to himself if he sees Iâm not in the mood to talk.â
With that decision finalised, you found Yuujiâs contact - Yuuji đ- and quickly shot him a text that you needed a ride to the mall right now, if heâs free.
âWith that done, Iâll get myself strawberry yoghurt to go-â
Your phone dings just as youâre about to tuck it in your bag and you see itâs Yuuji who had replied faster than you anticipated.
Yuuji đ - Iâll be free in an hr, my class will soon be over
Yuuji đ- wait in my room at the frat house, Iâll pick you up there.
You frowned. Why the hell will you wait at a fraternity house? For all you know, theyâre nothing but nasty, filthy little perverts. Frat bros have a bad reputation, being gross pieces of shit who have no personal boundaries and get away with anything. Mai always told you that theyâre a slippery slope and the chances of you meeting a decent one is as good as pigs flying.
Youđ§- Heck no. What if something happens to me there?
Yuuji đ - Look, I need to pick you up and drop you off by 3pm before my next class starts and I donât wanna waste any time
Yuuji đ - besides my friends are there and they know youâre coming. No one will hurt you.
You đ§- Fine. Iâll be there waiting. Not a minute late or Iâll rip your jlaw posters apart
Abandoning your plan of getting strawberry yoghurt with a secret promise youâd get it later at the mall, you decided to make your way to the Alpha Beta Frat house, much to your chagrin.
  AFTER hitching a ride with the schoolâs shuttle system within five minutes, you find yourself standing in front of the famed Alpha-Beta house.
The four story building was imposing to say the least, but there wasnât a challenge youâve ever backed down from. You casually strolled through the path leading to the front door, grabbing the brass handle and slamming it as hard as possible on the door twice.
âThey ought to hear me that way.â
Sure enough, someone shuffled with the door a few seconds later and opened it, complaints on their lips as the gap widened.
âWho the fuck is knocking on the door like tha- oh-oh h-hey-â
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his sudden change of behaviour. You could recognize him from one of your electives, psychology 101 with professor Getou. He usually makes a fool of himself there as he is doing right now, practically drooling all over himself on the front porch like a mangy mutt.
As much as youâd like to watch him pant like a dog and laugh at him later, you couldnât stand staying outside any longer.
âWhereâs Yuuji Itadoriâs room?â You ask curtly.
âUh⊠the l-last floor, the door on the far end of the left⊠o-or was it r-right...â
âFucking moronâ you curse internally, before putting on a fake, thankful smile on your face and pushed past the awestruck man to get into the house. âDonât worry, Iâll figure it out, myself.â
The house was neat, surprisingly, compared to the horrific stories you used to hear from Mai about how filthy fraternity houses are, especially the Alpha beta house under Todoâs rule. As you gingerly walk up the stairs, you notice how not a speck of dust nor a single graffitti lies on the wall, like everything had been polished and cleaned constantly.
Yuuji had made an off comment about the new president being a clean freak and would beat anyone up for leaving as much as wrapping paper on the floor without picking it up. âIt runs in the Zeninâs I guess.â He had signed on a particular dinner night. âThe last Zenin leader had done the exact same thing.â
As much as you hate the Zenin men and have never heard anything good about them, you have to be grateful that this one was dedicated to keeping the damn house clean. Even the frat bros look well dressed in their polo and shorts, and didnât reek like beer or weed - although you caught some of them looking at you like a piece of meat.
âAt least they donât try to talk to me. Must be out of respect for Yuuji.â
Eventually you make it to the top floor with two hallways stretching out on either side. You contemplated going to the left for a few seconds, but ultimately headed towards the right, figuring that Yuujiâs room could be there and if it wasnât, you would just go the other way. You stop at the door at the end of the room, assuming that itâs the right one and open it without knocking.
The first thing that hit you was the fresh scent of jasmines and apricot, two flavours that you would never expect to be mixed together, but worked so well. You took in the surroundings of the large room next, admiring the rather dark academic route it took in terms of design with the large brown curtains hanging over the windows, the low level lighting hanging above your head. The closet was large and the doors were made out tempered, coloured glass, a rather brave choice but it seemed to contribute to the overall look of the room.
Seeing a couch with a coffee table at a corner, you decided to set your bag aside there while you admired the rest of the properties. You never took him for someone whoâd have such a good taste for details, especially in terms of decor but he seemed to have exceeded your expectations of him. Even the floor is made up of mahogany wood board as opposed to the rest of the marble floors in the house.
You walk up to the medium sized reading table, admiring the hanging shelves over it stacked with books. The table was as clean as the rest of the room, each knick-knack and stationery arranged accordingly. Your eyes caught sight of the trophy case standing next to the closet in its own case and you walked up to it, admiring the sheer size. It was to be expected, since he had been on the varsity of his school team and was really good at sports. You take up one hand and trace a line over the case, carefully looking at the achievements.
â1st place at the Wimbledon championship, Male singlesâ
âInteresting, I didnât know Yuuji played tennis. I thought he mostly focused on basketball and track and field in school- oh, oh no-â
The second you read the next line your heart dropped to your stomach.
âZenin Megumiâ
Fuck, you were the wrong room. You should have known, the level organisation of this room and the lack of Jennifer Lawrence posters on the wall was too suspicious.
âI need to get out of this room as fast as possible-â
âWhat the hell are you doing in my room?â
As if things couldnât get any worse.
Your body grew rigid at the sound of a male voice right behind you, too scared to turn around, sweating bullets despite the air conditioning of the room at being caught red handed like a fucking creep in some random guys room.
âOh god, how am I going to explain myself that it was an accident and I was going to Yuujiâs room?â
âIâm very sure I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing in my room?â
Wait. That voice.
They say when you spend time away from someone, you usually forget a lot of things, like their scent, the sound of their voice, and even the way they look. But not you. You remember that voice as clear as a day. You know that Megumi Fushiguroâs voice deepened rather early, you know that bored, dead tone from anywhere, even in your grave.
The dots began to connect in your head as you matched the name to his voice.
âIt canât beâŠâÂ
You turn around, heart thumping loudly in your chest as you turn to look at the man standing behind you, glossy eyes taking in the features. The dark spiky hair that always seemed difficult to maintain, the blue eyes staring down at you, the slope of his nose, his lips, even his imposing height - being far taller than all those years ago.
âMegumi?â
Tears of joy blind you to the way his jaw tenses and without thinking, you engulf him in a warm hug, pressing your teary face into his broad chest.
âOh, Iâm so glad to see you. Iâve looked for you everywhere.â You blab, not realising how rigid he stood, not returning your hug. You assumed itâs because heâs not an affectionate person, and youâve never minded it. âI missed you so much. I asked everyone that knew you and you were just gone-â
âHey, Megs, have you seen my sister? I told her to wait for me in my room but I think she came into yours- oh, am I interrupting something?â
All it took was Yuuji coming into the room for you to be dragged back into reality, because Megumi is quick to place two hands on your shoulders, his grip nearly vice-like and pried you off himself before roughly shoving you towards your step brother. You let out a pained gasp as Yuuji catches you in time.
âMegumi what the fuck is your issue?â
You cannot see his facial expression, but you can feel his steely, unwelcoming gaze burning holes at the back of your head, making your heart drop further. âYouâd do the same thing too if a random stranger hugged you out of nowhere.â
âShe is not a stranger, sheâs my sister and you donât get to manhandle her the way you do to your other girls. Even if sheâs in the wrong.â
âWell tell your step-sister to get her bag off my couch and take her out of here before I come back.â he snapped back.
You canât believe your ears. Sure, you look different from how you did five years prior but was it so bad he couldnât recognize you?Â
Youâre brought out of your thoughts when the dark haired man walks past you both and without thinking you push Yuuji away, attempting to follow him. Your step-brother comes between you and the door, holding you by your forearms to prevent you from following Megumi.
âNo, (name), stop. Just tell me whatâs going on-âÂ
You stay mute, evading Yuujiâs grasp and dash out of the door, following after Megumi. His legs were longer than yours and you had to speed up, nearly tripping on the stairs as you followed him into the common room, Yuuji not too far off. You reached him, grasping his wrist in a desperate attempt to get his attention. He freezes for a second but soon his shock turns to anger as he swivels his head to look at you.
âWhat the hell do you want?â He barked.
You flinch, remembering how frightening he could be when he lost his temper but push down your fear to look up at him, your gaze soft as you try to remind him that it's you. âG-gumi it's me!â You stutter out, trembling as you jumble through your words. â(Name) (last name)... w-we went to school together, you can recognize m-me right?â
It only seems like youâre making things worse, because heâs looking at you like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat and kill you for touching him. He yanks his hand away from you, his lips curled up in a sneer. âKeep following me around and you wonât be recognizable for long.â
No, no, this isnât right. Sure Megumi was so hostile but not like this to you. He would never, ever threaten to put his hands on you, not even as a joke. This isnât the Megumi you know, this cannot be the person you idolised, that you loved all those years.
This stranger is wearing Megumiâs face, saying things that your Gumi would never EVER say.
He walked away and you followed him down the stairs into the living room, ignoring the surprised stares of other frat members, watching you call after him desperately, â âGumi, Gumi! Wait, itâs me! I-i still have the bracelet we made together-â not caring how crazy you looked now. You need to understand why the hell Megumi was treating you like heâs never met you before, there has to be an explanation.
He doesnât turn around or pay attention to your incessant cries, maintaining his ignorance. âGet lost. I donât know you.â he says casually, almost as if he seems amused youâre embarrassing yourself. âYuuji, get your crazy sister away from me.â
You feel lost, heart dropping to your feet at his words. Being reduced to nothing but a mere stranger after years of pining for him. Shame crawls up to your skin as you feel the entire house look at you like youâve truly lost your mind for chasing after Megumi, humbling you completely. Yuuji catches up to you, a hand wrapped around your arm, trying to tug you away gently, but youâre rooted to the spot, unable to move.
âT-thereâs no way.â Your head spins, trying to figure out what you did to offend him. Where did it all go wrong? Wasnât this supposed to be the both of you reuniting? Rekindling your relationship? Even if he just acknowledged knowing you, you would have been satisfied. So why was he acting this way? âDoes he truly not remember me? Or⊠is he⊠trying to pretend I donât exist?â
Thereâs only one way to figure it out. There is one name that Megumi would answer to, no matter what.
âYou say you donât remember me, but we both know thatâs not true.â You push Yuuji off again and tell him to stay out of it, taking a step forward with your back straight. It takes everything in you to keep your composure, not wanting to cry in front of these men. âEven after all these years, I can still tell itâs you. Have I changed so much you canât recognize me?â
âCan you stop this madness-â
âLook me in eye and tell me that you donât remember me Fushiguro-kun!â
The entire house goes silent. Youâre breathing hard as Megumi abruptly stops in his tracks, slowly turning around to look at you. Your mouth goes dry when you see a flicker of fury in those blue eyes, before he masks it with a cold gaze.
âYou really canât take a hint, can you (name)? Years of maturing and youâre still so stupid.â
The way his tone is so even, without any hint of emotion feels like an ice bucket of water has been thrown on you.Â
âIs that all you have to say?â Your voice is trembling as you look at him incredulously. âAfter disappearing for five fucking years on me without a trace? All this time, I cried and waited for you! I thought something bad had happened to you-â
âHow is that my problem?â He scoffed, now folding his arms across his chest, staring down at you like youâre the dirt beneath his feet and you instantly shrink underneath his gaze. âDonât tell me youâre still obsessed with me? For five years? Thatâs really pathetic.â
Pathetic? How is it pathetic to be in love with someone who was supposed to love you back? Were you really pathetic to keep him in your heart all these years? âI-i donât understand, y-you asked me to be your girlfriend right before you left! Y-you said you liked me-â
âWe were in high school. I was a horny teenager and you were there. I said something nice so that I could mess around with you.â He groaned, uncaring that his words were hurting you. That he was admitting to just seeing you as a means to an end. âDonât tell me all these years you believed the shit I said about liking you?â
âThis canât be right.â Your eyes are wide with shock, unable to comprehend the madness coming out from his mouth. Each word that he uttered takes apart your fragile heart piece by piece until there is almost nothing left, your frustration and anger rising with the entire situation. âNo, no- this isnât Gumi. He-heâd never do this to m-me-â
âI-i kept the bracelet we both made, to carry u-us with each other-â
âYou mean the one with your nickname you gave to me? I threw it away the second I left for a new school.â He looks down at your wrist, a wry smile forming on his lips as he chuckles darkly. âSeems like you still wear yours.â
Your face felt hot as all eyes fell on you, embarrassment flooding your features. Megumi had practically made it known that you were nothing to him and he didnât even consider you once when he left, in front of all of his frat members, while you pined after him like a desperate girl.
Thinking back to high school, it made sense now that he never loved you. He was always cold to you until you begged him. He refused to be seen with you in public but would make out with you in hidden corners of the school, then go back to pretending he doesnât know you in front of his friends.
For years you had this idealised version of your Gumi in your head but now you realised you chose to believe in your own delusions.
You kept his sweater, his pictures, his gifts in a special box and his memories in your heart. You cried over him until you got ill when he disappeared and you even tried to run away from home to find him. You refused to date guys Mai would push your way because you were waiting for him.
You gave away five years of your happiness crying over someone that hates you.
You watch through teary eyes as Megumi leans close enough to you until his breath tickles your ears, whispering in a harsh voice, just for you to hear.
âDid you really think Iâd like you now because youâre dressed like a skank? Wear all the fancy clothes you want, youâll always be an insecure whiny brat who looks for affection everywhere but wonât find it.â
âYouâre lying.â You spit back. You want to hurt him back, to make him feel the same way heâs made you feel; angry, humiliated. âThere are tons of guys who will be lining up to fuck me the second I give the green light.â
âExactly. Theyâll want to fuck you, but theyâll never ever date you.â
Any form of self-worth or self-confidence you might have built up, came crashing down the second he said those words. Youâre left standing there as he stood upright again, frozen at the way his words managed to unearth the insecurities youâve tried your best to hide. You look at Megumi with tears in your eyes, defiant before taking a deep breath and composing yourself, blinking away tears.
Five years ago, if he had said these things to you, you would have cried. But youâre not a kid and youâd be damned if you shed tears for him in front of all the Alpha Beta boys and looked more pathetic than you already were.
âYuuji, pass me my bag.â
Your step-brother holds it out for you, and without looking, you snatched it out of his hand. At least, heâs not trying to act like a good brother and getting in between your fight with Megumi. Maybe he knows it would make the situation worse.
You look at Megumi again, your once adoring gaze turned to that of anger and sadness. By God, he had become more handsome than ever, but it seems the Zeninâs have rottened him to the core. You look at his eyes again and see that his eyes are dull, like there is no life in them; like heâs dealing with perpetual sadness. He was always depressed in high school and you considered using the fact he used to cut the pain away too often to hurt him, but ultimately decided against it.
You were not going down that road. You still loved him more than you wanted to hurt him, even if it felt pathetic to do so like he said.
âYouâre right.â You begin, a sad smile forming on your lips. âIâm pathetic. But at least Iâm not as miserable as you are. Have a nice life, Zenin.â
With that, you walk past him with your head held up high and leave the frat house with a forced smile, ignoring the way your legs felt like jelly. Itâs not until you enter a shuttle towards the Kappa sorority house that the crushing weight of humiliation and betrayal wears you down that you burst into tears.
Bonus:
âFuck, (name), keep squeezing me like that, Shiitttâ
Megumi knows heâs a piece of shit. Ever since he entered the Zenin household and shed his Fushiguro last name, heâs been hitting one low to another, seemingly unaware of where the rock bottom is. He knows heâs done abhorrent, corrupt things that normal people would scrunch their nose in disgust. The Zeninâs are never afraid to get their hands dirty and he had to learn that at an early age if he had any chance of surviving that household.
But this was a new low, even for him.
Sweat dripped down his forehead, hair sticking to his forehead, glistening down his muscular body. His hips give timed thrusts, angled just right to send pleasurable waves through his body, hitting the right spot for the girl under him. Each movement elicits a soft moan from Hana, muffled by the position she was in; face down on his king sized bed with his hand pressing her face against the pillow, her torso held up by his arm around it whilst his cock pistoned in and out of her poor abused pussy.
On a normal day, it fed his large ego if she was crying out his name for everyone to hear it. He secretly prided himself in ruining a girl, making her cry for him and then tossing her aside. And they always crawl back, eager to do whatever he wants and give in to his selfish needs, no matter how shitty he treats them.
But today, he didnât want to hear Hana say his name. He wished it was you.
And by god he hated it. He hated you so much.
If there was anything about you that never changed, itâs how you saw through him. Right in high school, you always knew when he was upset, even when he didn't say anything or act out; those times you would sit in silence and push your favourite strawberry yoghurt in his hands to make him feel better. Even in the midst of him tearing you apart, you had the audacity to call him miserable.
And he knows youâre right, but hearing it come out from your mouth hurts him, opening up a part of him that he buried in his heart.
How dare you make him feel vulnerable?
He wishes it was you he had in this position, but instead of pushing your head down, heâd grab you by your neck and make the entire house hear you cry. Heâd fuck you like a slut, make you cum all over his cock so hard multiple times, until you couldnât think about it. He wishes itâs your cunt he was fucking like a mad man, that was squeezing him like this so deliciously as he angled it to your g-spot, hearing your sharp in take of breath, trying to stave your orgasm off.
Thereâs a burning sensation at the back of his mind that aches for your body. He wants to be the one youâre the most vulnerable with, so that he can throw it back in your face. He wants to take his misery out on you.
 â âs too much, tâmuch- Gumi gonna cum-â
âShut upâ he snarled at her angrily. She called him that stupid name you always call him. No matter what he does, you keep haunting him everywhere he goes. âYouâll put me off if you talk. Just cum.â
And goodness, Hana has no self-worth as she cums hard, crying out his name over and over again. Megumi pretends it's your voice, that itâs you whining for him and it pushes him over the edge. He cums hard into the condom with a quiet groan, his body violently trembling as he rides his high, your face at the back of his mind until heâs spent.
He slowly removes his hand off her head and drags his cock out, letting her body fall limp onto his bed. He rolled over to face the ceiling in an attempt to catch his breath from having the best orgasm of his life.
Because he was thinking about you.
He knows itâs definitely not love. He doesnât love anyone and he doesnât care about anyone else beyond what he can gain. And he definitely enjoyed hurting you, making you cry. He enjoyed dragging you down to his level and heâs sure thatâs not what someone who is in love does to the person they care about.
He is brought out of his thoughts when Hana rolls on her back, white hair splayed on his pillows, frowning like sheâs dissatisfied with something he did.
Which is weird, heâs sure he made her cum.
Normally, he didnât care and he would never ask, but today, heâs feeling a bit generous. "Whatâs up with you?â He asked. âYou didnât like it?â
There is a nervous pause, with her biting her lip anxiously, like sheâs afraid of saying something that would offend him. Itâs clear that whatever has been on her mind must be serious. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and starts talking.
âN-no, I liked todayâs session, itâs justâŠâ she mumbled, biting her lip nervously. Megumi raised a brow at her statement. âItâs just what? Spit it out.â
âYou kept on calling me (name).â
âFuck.â
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#megumi smut#megumi fushiguro x female reader#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#jjk smut#fushiguro megumi x reader angst#fushiguro megumi x reader smut#fushiguro megumi x reader#fushiguro smut#jujutsu kaisen megumi#jujutsu megumi#megumi x reader smut#megumi fushiguro x reader smut#fushiguro megumi smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen smut#tw. dark content
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method · alter ego
many people which are now known as famous and popular celebrities have created their alter egos long ago. jennifer lopez' alter ego called lola, eminem's alter ego slim shady or mariah carey's alter ego mimi â they all serve one purpose: to extend one's self-image. in other words, becoming someone, which is exactly what we do when we manifest!
definition
an alter ego â latin for "other i" â can be referred to as a secondary self, a hidden or even opposite side of one's self. itâs an alternative personality which is believed to be different from a person's actual or original personality. some even say itâs a better or enhanced version of oneself, possessing all characteristics which your first self desires or aspires to have. your alter ego is defined by everything you wish and intend it to be defined by. in manifestation terms, an alter ago is simply a different concept of self or state of mind which you can embody or identify with at all times.
suggestion
creating an alter ego for yourself can be quite beneficial if you find it exhausting to embody your desired version of self all the time or experience difficulties representing or relating to a fixed state of self continuously or repeatedly. inventing and alter ego helps to be able to identify with a made up side of yourself without feeling the pressure or the need to show up as them every minute of the day, especially if they are inherently or drastically divergent than how you are normally.
on the other hand, it serves as a means to express yourself in a way thatâs in contrast to how you usually are, reducing anxiety and inducing confidence instead. it guides you into thinking and expecting more of yourself naturally and get over your mental limitations and restrictions. your alter ego is an extension from who you are to who you could be. what you canât do, your alter ego can!
invention
let's create your alter ego together!
biography. give them a name. it does not have to be your exact first and last name. your alter ego's name could be your actual first name and a different last time, a nickname or variety of your first name or an entirely new name. you can continue by choosing their age, their sex, their birthday, their zodiac sign or even birth chart, deciding on their nationality, their political, sexual, spiritual or religious orientation,âŠ
personality. define their personality. who are they? what do they know? what are they interested in? what do they like? what do they dislike? how do they talk? how do they walk? how do they look like? how do they dress? how do they behave? how do they treat others? what do they know? how do they think of themselves? how do they act? what do they think? what do they own? how does their home look like? whatâs their social life like? do they have a routine? do they have a signature smell? do they own a motto they live by? or do they have a catch phrase they always use? who is in love with them? do they have a partner? do they have several lovers? who do they know? what is their family relationship like? do they have a best friend? are they in a friendgroup?âŠ
expression
now, we need to get to action. our next step is all about embodying and expressing. having an alter ego is one thing but showing up as them is another.
whenever you intend to become your alter ego and let them "take over yourself", your job is to get into the mindset of that specific alter ego. you need to let them live through you. let them be who they are while using your body as a "vessel". think about it, what would they do? how would they act? if you were to make a decision, how would they choose? what would they say? make it your aim to BE them.
with love, ella.
#law of assumption#loassumption#loa#loablr#the law of assumption#neville goddard#alter ego#manifesting#manifestation#manifest#manifest it#manifesting it#master manifestor#how to manifest#affirm and persist#law of attraction#spiritual#spirituality#edward art#affirmations#shifting realities#reality shift#reality shifting#eiypo#specific person#self concept#law of abundance#manifestation techniques#manifest your dreams#manifest your desires
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