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bubblybubbubs · 3 years

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Stuck With Me (3)

Summary - Draco’s POV on losing his soulmate

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count - 3.5k

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1 2

taglist - @lonely-kermit @lifeasdreamgirl @mera-shifts @abbyloubaton @clumsilyclueless @confusedscreaminggremlin @seanh-boredom @weasleysmalfoyxstyles @thefandomplace @mayempress @shadyrose66622 @jay-jay-love @ktvia @lovebynorth @sweet-creature98 @remmyswritings @chaoticgirl04

Sometimes Draco thought about how different his life would be had he not left you, had you not gotten hurt and lost your fucking memory.

It was truly ridiculous, the universe was actively conspiring against him, he was sure of it.

His current living situation just proved that further to him. “Wake the fuck up.” Blaise said slowly pouring water on his face even though Blaise himself was evidently groggy. “I will kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Draco was unsure as to why Blaise had chosen to live in a crappy apartment when his family Manor was free. He missed his silk sheets and expensive pillows. Yet sadly the ministry had decided they wanted to take that leaving Draco on Blaise’s smelly consignment store couch. Had he gotten completely cut off by his family? Perhaps, it would make the disgustingly plain beans and toasts they ate daily make a lot more sense. He’d hate to think that Blaise fed them this by choice.

“Guess who wrote.” Blaise said, wiggling a letter in Draco’s face.

“Loud ginger?”

“Loud ginger.” He confirmed dropping it in on Draco’s face. “You should answer her before we get a howler, then we’ll really see how loud the ginger can get.” Draco looked at the letter, Ginny’s name was scrawled on the envelope and the aggressiveness of the signature made him heavily considering not opening it but the possibility of getting a howler from her convinced him otherwise.

Draco,

You are the worst and I hate you. I’m not sure if you care anymore given that you have refused to make contact with her but y/n is doing fine. I mean sure she’s been asking about her soulmate and lying to her is slowly killing me, but I’m glad you and Blaise are having fun in your bachelor pad and that you have successfully cleared your amnesiac soulmate out of your head.

Looking forward to hearing your pathetic excuses,

Ginny Weasley.

It was way too fucking early for this.

Things were strange.

You had gotten most of your memories back but everything was very different than what you remembered, everyone was different after the war.

The Weasleys, oh the poor Weasleys, they were like your family but the life has been sucked out of them without Fred. They had all tried to hide it from you, they believed you were already going through enough and you didn’t need their problems too. Ginny especially, she hadn’t left your side since you woke up. You kind of felt bad for Harry because whenever he wanted to spend some one on one time with Ginny she always insisted you tagged along.

For example whatever the fuck this current situation was.

“I’m really sorry Harry.” You whispered to him. “I told her I’d be fine alone.”

At first it had sort of made sense how careful everyone had been around you, but at this point it was exhausting. You would walk into a room and it would just go silent. You lost your memory, not your basic communication skills.

“It’s fine, I understand Ginny can be quite persistent.”

“What about me.” Ginny said hooking her arms with the both of you.

“Just that I don’t think I should be going on your dates anymore, it’s kind-“

“Ginny.” Harry said interrupting you pointing towards a boy down the street. He was blonde and lanky, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You had seen Ginny mad, in fact it was one of the first things to come back to you. Her calm fury was something that hadn’t remained constant since she was young and right now you saw it on her face as she stared daggers into the boy.

She scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

“This might take a while.” Harry said quietly, shaking his head. “Come on we can meet Ginny there.” You stole a glance across the street as Harry dragged you away. Ginny was yelling at the boy but he didn’t seem to care because he wasn’t looking at her he was looking at you. You felt your face heat up and you looked away from him following Harry. “Who was that, should I know him?”

Harry paused for a minute.

He had that face that people had whenever they were walking on eggshells around you.“He went to school with us but I don’t think you two were ever friends.” The way he didn’t look you in the eyes screamed to you that he was lying.Harry was always a horrible bloody liar.

It was really hard for Draco to process what Ginny was saying. Her anger had gone right to her face and Draco had been silently betting with himself as to how long it would take for her face to turn the same color as her hair. “Your face is really red.” Draco said, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Are you drunk.” Ginny said stoically.

Was he? It was likely, he honestly couldn't remember the morning or yesterday. The days were sort of blending together.

“Malfoy.” Ginny said. Usually when people used his name they were yelling at him or were angry at him. But Ginny said it with pity which somehow felt worse.

“I don’t get why you're doing this to yourself.” She said. “You’re miserable.” He deserved to be miserable.

“It’s for the best.”

“How’s that.”

Draco had no interest in divulging his feelings to weaslette of all people, but it seemed his judgement was slightly impaired by the alcohol he may or may not had been drinking. “I’m going to fucking Azakban Ginevra,I just dont see the point in telling her I’m her soulmate and possibly facing rejection just for me to be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco huffed. “Even if she somehow forgave me, I doubt the dementors will be allowing conjugal visits.”

“There are no more dementors at Azkaban, Kingsley got rid of them.”

Now normally Draco was against hitting girls but he was considering it heavily. “Thank you Weasley. I feel way better, I’m sure Azkaban is a paradise now. Remind me to send Kingsley a thank you letter.”

“Draco.” Ginny said.

Gross, hearing Ginny say his first name with pity felt even worse.

“You’re not going to Azkaban, Harry agreed to speak at your trial.”

“Oh great he’ll testify to the one time I helped him, I’m sure it’ll cancel everything else out.” He said. “I’m not a good person Weasley, that’s why I know I’m going to Azkaban, because I deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re staying away from y/n?” Ginny said even angrier than before. “Is this some sort of self punishment.”

Draco stayed quiet.

“Merlin, Draco go to fucking therapy.” Ginny huffed. “You’re not the only one that’ll suffer because of your self pity. She needs her fucking soulmate back, as much as I hate you for everything you’ve put her through I can’t argue with the fucking universe and neither can you.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have fucking gotten involved with her in the first place, it’s only put her in danger.” He took a deep shaky breath. “And her losing her memory was the universe’s way of telling me to stay away.”

He had known for a long time that she was too good for him

It was dark and he was tired, turns out making potter stinks badges and teaching all of Slytherin clever chants was demanding. Draco wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his dorm until of course he heard quiet sobs. He was a firm believer that crying in public was pathetic, especially in a hallway where anyone could stumble across you. And he might’ve told them that had it not been you. He had been thinking about you, not that he would ever tell anyone that ever. But how could he not, you were his soulmate and that had to mean something.

He barely had time to think as his feet moved on their own bringing him in front of you.

“Why are you crying.”

Merlin, could he have been any less compassionate.

“Why do you care Malfoy.” You said.

He hated the way you looked pretty even if your eyes were all puffy and your face was all red.

“I don’t.”

He did. He even started to walk away for dramatic effect of course.

“I’m scared.” It felt weird to hear sincere words from you that weren't you yelling at him, and he hated the fact that he didn't hate it. “Harry has his first task tomorrow he could get hurt or worse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t tell him I told you this but he has to be some sort of invincible to defeat Voldemort at the age of 1. Don't you think?”He could hardly believe the words he was saying.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finished off.

Draco sat tensely, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He couldn't hug you could he? No that would be seriously overstepping. You would probably punch him in the face, again. After all you had been the one who wanted to forget about the whole soulmate thing and of course you were a halfblood and a gryffindor on top of that. It would never work.

For once he hated being right.

You were actively weighing how likely it was for Ginny to kill you if you woke her up.

Very, is what you eventually came up with. Maybe you could play the amnesia card.

“What do you want y/n.” Ginny grogged from under her. “I’ve been listening to you shifting around for the last hour.”

You had been staying at the Weasley’s and you had absolutely refused to take Fred��s bed so that had resulted in a cramped hammock floating in Ginny’s room.

You turned around to face her with a sorry look on your face.

“Did I know that boy, the one you were yelling at.” You said. “I just feel like I knew him.”

Ginny was quiet the same way Harry was. “No.” She said turning away from you. “No you didn’t.”

“Ginny-”

“Y/n please don’t.” Ginny said, cutting you off. “It’s not for me to tell, if it was believe me you’d already know.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where.”

“To Hogwarts.”

It was embarrassing. Everyone had gone already; they had been able to at least attempt to cope with the trauma they had endured. And you who couldn't even remember the bloody war couldn't work up the nerves to go.

Ginny stared at you for a bit before muttering. “Hermione and Ron are going soon, they’ll likely let you join them.” You were about to make an argument about going on your own before Ginny turned back around nonverbally telling you that the conversation was over.

You still couldn’t sleep and not from lack of trying. Your mind was whirring, ever since you had seen Ginny yell at the boy your lack of memory seemed to be feeling different. And your fear was beginning to settle in, your doctor said that some memories may never come back and that thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t feel all that different, Ginny said you were the same whenever you asked. But she could be lying (since she seemed to be in the habit of doing so these days) and you would never know because you had amnesia.

Draco was regretting not taking his plea deal. He would much rather be sleeping in Azkaban than waking up on Blaise’s concerningly uncomfortable couch to an angry looking ginger towering over him. No one seemed to value his rest and it was getting ridiculous. He pressed his eyes closed and pull his blanket further over his face in hopes that maybe Ginevra would disappear. Sadly that was not the case and Ginny ripped the blanket off of him leaving Draco quite cold.

Ginny stared down at him as she stood impatiently at the foot of the couch.

“Blaise someone broke into your flat.”

“I noticed mate.” Blaise said who looked just as exhausted hunched over his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked remember, or were you drunk too?”

Ginny did not look amused and Draco almost felt bad for being so difficult but then he remembered he didn't care.

“Y/n’s going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. She’s likely going to get her memories back.” Ginny said. “Thought you should know.”

Draco sat up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny said taking a deep breath. “You need to be there.”

“How so?”

“She’s going to remember all the shitty things you’ve done to her and are yet to apologize for and you’re going to lose your soulmate for good.”

“I don't see how me being there will change that.”

Ginny didn't answer him rather she walked towards his chimney. “You know what, screw you. I truly do not care if you go, I just thought you should have the choice that's all.”

Ginny didn't look at Draco, rather giving Blaise a short nod before using the floo to go back to the Burrow.

Draco let himself fall back down to the couch as he listened to Blaises loudly chow down his cereal.

“So are you going to go?” Blaise said his mouth still full.

He felt bad for Blaise’s mum all that money on etiquette lessons for what?

“No.” Draco said, burying his head in his pillow.

“You’re a tosser.”

“I can live with that.”

He could and he has. If he had a sickle for everytime he was called some variation of ‘tosser’ he certainly would not be sleeping on Blaise’s couch.

“I’m calling Pansy.” Blaise didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. But Pansy was another story, Pansy scared everyone, especially the people that loved her which sadly included Draco. “I will kill you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you know she’ll knock some sense into you.”

“I have a lot of sense.” Draco groaned. “In fact I have too much sense.”

Blaise ignored Draco’s exaggerated groans as he called Pansy.The call was short or maybe it was long, all Draco knew was that Pansy was standing over him with that look on her face.

“I’m not going, and you’re not changing my mind Pansy.”

“Blaise leave.” Pansy ordered.

Blaise looked insulted. “This is my house.”

“You call this a house?”

Blaise huffed mumbling under his breath curses at Pansy.

“That was rude.”

“So you're going to lecture me on rudeness now, that's rich coming from you.”

“I dont care.”

“You look and smell like shit, I can tell you ‘don’t care’.” Pansy said.

Never in her life had Pansy been one to sugar coat things and apparently she had no intention of starting to do so. Draco was going to argue it was the couch but he realized he couldn't remember the last time he showered so he kept his mouth shut. Draco a year ago would’ve drowned himself in the black lake had he known he’d come to be like this.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m pulling the card.”

“Pansy no that’s not fair.” Draco said sitting up.

“Fair?”

Poor choice of words.

“Draco, do I have to remind you my soulmate is dead, I stopped feeling tugs and being able to talk to my soulmate when i was 13. Your soulmate is alive by some fucking miracle, and frankly you’re being a selfish prick.”

“Oh.” He always hated when Pansy talked about it. Not because he didn't care but according to Pansy because he cared too much and the last time he had shown any sign of pity towards Pansy it had not gone well for him.

“What lies do you have Ginevra feeding her, does she think she has no soulmate, does she think her soulmate is dead?”

“She doesn’t think she has a soulmate.” Draco said in a low voice, he wasn't proud of what he was doing but he also knew he had no choice. “She was in her coma during the tug. I figured by the time the next one rolls around I have something figured out.”

“And what about you.” She asked. “She may not remember you but you’ll remember her, you'll never forget that you have a soulmate out there that you refuse to see.”

“I won't let myself ruin her.”

“She’s a grown woman, I find it demeaning that you don't see her capable of making her own damn choices.”

“What?”

“You think she'll hate you, you think she’ll be ruined, you think she’s better off. What about what she thinks? You think she'd be okay with you slowly killing yourself?”

“You're a bitch Pansy.”

“So I’ve been told.” She looked towards the clock.

“Come on lets get you something to eat.”

She reached her hand out for Draco to grab.

“I can walk to the kitchen without holding your hand thank you very much.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Draco’s arm.

“What are you-”

Draco’s sentence was cut off by Pansy apparating them both out of the loft.

Draco had gone to his fair share of therapy, did it ever work? no, Draco would rather die before talking about his feelings with a stranger but he had been taught his fair share of anger exercises . And Merlin did they come in handy, truly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling Pansy as she stood there with a smug face looking at the rubble that once was Hogwarts.

“Pansy.” Draco said slowly.

“Shut up, look she’s right there.”

“I’m not ready Pansy.” Draco said wiping his palms on his pants out of stress. “I wanted to bring her flowers.”

“flowers?”

“Forget me nots.” He said with a sardonic dry chuckle. “It was our unofficial flower, ironic isn’t it.”

“The fact that you have an unofficial flower makes me want to throw up.”

“I need flowers.” He said. Pansy groaned before searching the grass. She picked up a dandelion swirling her wand transfiguring it into a bouquet of forget me nots.

“Here, go.” He was about to give another excuse but Pansy apperated away. The one time he needed her she leaves.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to approach her without seeming like a stalker.

His thoughts were disrupted by Hermione and Ron walking up to him. He wanted to turn around so bad but he had no doubt that if he did so Hermione and Ron wouldn’t hesitate to curse him.

“Granger, Weasley.” He said sticking his hands as deep as his pockets would allow him.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged.

“Just go talk to her.” Ron said.

“Thats why Im here.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but Draco didn’t feel like fighting Weasley.

Draco had never felt such anxiety because of another person. He had always been confident and walked around like he owned the world, but now he felt scared.He watched you as you traced your hands across the bricks of Hogwarts, his steps faltering as he came closer to you.

“Hi Y/n.” He called out.

You turned to look at him. Draco’s heart felt heavy at the way you looked at him, not any recognition in your eyes. You had once looked at him with such love, then such hate but now you looked at him with nothing. because right now that’s what he was to you, and it broke his heart.

“You.” You said stepping closer. “You were the one talking to Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking, she yelled I stood there.”

“Ginny does that a lot.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” He said.

You spotted the flowers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, who did you lose?”

His hands tightened on the flowers.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You said. “I lost my friend Fred, and my memory. But I don't feel like I lost it since I can't remember ever having it. But I miss Fred.”

He studied every centimeter of your face noting the subtle changes he didn’t notice the last time he saw you as you rambled on about Fred anxiously.

“You.” He said voice wavering. “I lost you.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry I-“

“don’t know who I am?” He said with a dry laugh. “I was sort of expecting that.”

You didn’t say anything studying his face for anything that sparked a memory in you.

He dug through his jacket pocket pulling out a photo.

His hands were sweating and he tried his best not to touch your hand. Partially because he didn’t want you to feel his sweaty hands and because he feared he would break down at the realization that you were finally here in front of him.

“I’m Draco and you’re my soulmate.” He said

AN THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART THE LAST PART WILL BE THE NEXT PART

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #ginny weasley x reader #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hinny #ronmione #hp #draco #malfoy #x reader #stuck with me #angst

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atlabeth · 3 years

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transferred part 20 - atla smau

part 19 | masterlist | epilogue

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well.

a/n: me when i have to write more than 5 words in a series thats supposed to be a smau

anywho! basically the last chapter?? which is crazy?? filled with heartfelt emotions and the moment that you've all been waiting for, it's a wild ride. so strap in and enjoy. the epilogue will be posted later today so i can finally wrap this series up!! and dont worry theres a super long sappy authors note on the epilogue. LETS GET INTO IT

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): cursing, mentions of alcohol, hurt/comfort, one suggestive comment, mentions of toxic relationships, reader talking about her self sabotaging behavior and burnout, Bad Coping Methods (dont disappear kids)

“You haven’t seen her?” Zuko sighed as the same words he had heard on repeat for the past hour played through his ears again. “It’s alright, thank you. Have a good night.”

He shook his head at his friends, their defeated expressions mirroring his own as he leaned against the kitchen island. He ran an exhausted hand through his hair, and he couldn’t help but think of the countless times you had done it for him.

“Your sister doesn’t play when it comes to theatrics,” Aang lamented as he plopped on the couch next to Sokka.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “I mean, she doesn’t pull stuff like this. Sometimes she went over the top when she was younger, staying out a little too late or doing something stupid, but she never just… she never just tried to disappear like this. I.. I guess she was too worried about Katara and me to do anything like that, but still.” He knocked back the rest of the seltzer and tossed the can on the table — alcohol was tempting, but none of them wanted to be any less than completely aware tonight.

“We all knew she was hurting,” Sokka continued. “Not even she could be fine after everything that happened with Hahn, especially the day after, but I— I guess I thought that she would open up before just dropping off the radar completely!

“No news from the girls,” Aang announced, prompting a collective sigh from the other two boys. “I gotta give it to her, she’s been very thorough with this.”

“Of course she has. It’s classic Y/N — she can disappear without a trace, sure, but she can’t put enough effort into picking up some supplies for my project on her way home.” It was a lame attempt to lighten the mood, and though he got a weak chuckle out of Aang, it was radio silence on Zuko’s part.

“Hey, buddy.” It didn’t snap him out of his reverie, and Sokka seriously contemplated throwing his empty soda can at him. “You okay?”

“She didn’t even say anything to me,” he finally murmured, eyes trained on his phone screen. “She said she would tell me if she was having a hard time, but she didn’t say anything to me. Just suffered in silence until it got so bad she just up and left. She just… left. Without a single word to anyone. To me.”

Aang’s eyes softened and he let out a loose exhale. “Zuko, she didn’t mean to hurt you — I know that much. She’s just been under a lot of stress lately, and… I guess it didn’t manifest in the best way.”

“Stress...” he muttered, trying to piece it together. There was something nagging at the back of his skull, something on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t get it. “And you guys are sure she hasn’t put anything anywhere? No texts that you missed, nothing?”

“Believe me,” Sokka said. “I’ve refreshed her pages a thousand times by now. It’s radio silence on her side. God, I wish I was more invasive and put like, a tracking device on her car or something! For all we know, she could be back to Kyoshi.”

Kyoshi. Stress. This whole thing, your disappearing act.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Zuko stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the stool in the process and warranting puzzled looks from both of his friends as he grabbed his keys off the table and practically ran to the door.

“Zuko, where are you going?” Aang questioned.

He tugged the door open and shot a glance back at them, tension having noticeably dissolved from his shoulders.

“I know where she is.”

Zuko tapped idly against the steering wheel, once again glancing down at his phone screen but to no avail. His relationship with you had become infinitely more complicated since the kiss through fault of both of them — he supposed that was what happened when two people who didn’t know how to talk about their emotions caught feelings for each other. Zuko was very skilled at sticking his foot in his mouth whenever he tried to talk about anything like this, and

But you had accepted his offer to talk on the way home, so that meant something.

He had originally suggested just talking on the way home like he had proposed earlier, but you had a different idea. ‘Trust me,’ you had told him. ‘It has a good track record with making people feel better.’

Your proposition was a wildflower field on the outskirts of the city, just out of the way that someone would go en route to the university. Far enough from the city to emanate an aura of peace, but close enough to be a feasible trip.

“I found this place when I was missing home,” you smiled as he parked the car. “I love it here, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just feel homesick for Kyoshi. You passed a field like this on the way into town, and when I stumbled here, it just kinda felt like fate. So now whenever I’m stressed, or overwhelmed, or just need a break, I come out here. And I think this is the perfect place to talk about… well, whatever’s going on with us.”

“Sounds good.” He returned the sentiment then cleared his throat. “As long as we don’t go in there. I can admire it from afar, but just looking at that field is making my skin itch.”

You laughed and nodded amiably. “Deal.”

One hand was splayed against your chest, the other trailing lazy circles with the pads of your fingers against the metal as you gazed up at the sky. You had the best and only seat of the view, the flora drifting softly in the night breeze as the stars twinkled from above.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, being here. The past couple of weeks had just been… crushing you. It was like your heart was stuck in a vice and no matter what you did, it just got tighter and tighter.

You had been treating everyone you knew horribly, but you couldn’t stop. It felt like a game — how terribly could you act towards them until they snapped too? Until your friends, your siblings, Zuko, recognized that they had made a mistake by trying to help you?

And you didn’t know what it was about today, but… something inside of you just broke after that morning with your roommates. So you did what you were best at, and you ran. Skipped class, skipped work, just drove around aimlessly until even that was starting to feel like too much of a trap.

And then you ended up here.

It would’ve been laughable if you weren’t on the verge of breaking down.

You had been here, just laying on the hood of your car parked a few feet away from the field on an off road path, for the better part of an hour. If you were going to drown underneath the weight of your thoughts, it was better to do it alone.

But as you heard the crunching of gravel underneath car tires, your eyes instinctively shot towards the noise — so much for being alone — and you sat up. Your brows furrowed in recognition, you knew that car, and it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest when Zuko stepped out.

“You remembered,” you breathed after a moment of silence. “You’re here.”

“Always.” He said it so obviously, so easily — why wouldn’t he remember? Why wouldn’t he be here?

You scooted over to make space on the hood and patted the space next to you softly, pulling your knees up to your chest in a moment of shame as he walked around to the front and pushed himself up next to you. What were you going to say to him? What could you say?

“I’m sorry,” you said out of the blue, your words pouring out of you like an emotional waterfall. “I’m sorry for just— for just leaving, I know it was stupid and I know they’re all probably worried out of their minds, but I couldn’t do it, Zuko. I-it was like I was trapped, and I know it was irrational, but I had to get out of there—”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly, effectively stopping your rant. “If you really had to get out, you could’ve at least said something to one of us. I don’t know what things were like back at Kyoshi, but here— here, you can’t throw yourself back onto the knife every time something goes wrong, because— you just can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not mad, believe me, I’m relieved that you’re okay. I just..” he sighed and glanced up at the night sky, the light of the moon illuminating his features as he faced you once more. “I know you’ve felt alone before, but you’re not. You have Katara, and Sokka, Suki, Toph— you have me, Y/N! And I’m not going anywhere, trust me, but— but you can’t keep doing this to yourself, because they care about you, and I care about you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and chose to concentrate on the hood of the car, tapping your fingers against the metal as a way to use up your nervous energy. “You’re… you’re right,” you said after a long moment of silence, the beginnings of a mirthless smile on your lips.

“After that night at the party, I just— I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. There was a part of me that just wanted to lock myself in my room and never come out, but I— I told myself I was better than that, and I refused to let myself fall back onto any of it. So I worked. I took extra shifts, I helped out my professors, I did anything and everything I could to try and keep my mind off of Hahn. But I wasn’t helping anything, I was just… I was destroying myself. It was just like you said. I was a candle burning at both ends but still convinced that I was doing the right thing, and eventually.. I just couldn’t take it anymore. So I ran.”

“And— there’s always been this… this voice in my head that pops up after things in my life are going good, and it tells me that something is going to go wrong. A-and it tells me that if I’m the one that ruins it, then I don’t have to ask myself what I did wrong, if I could’ve stopped it from happening— if it’s inevitable, then I should be the one to ruin it. It’s how most of my relationships ended, and— well, the only thing it’s succeeded in is making me miserable.”

You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until you feel Zuko placing his own over yours — a simple gesture asking an unsaid question, one you answer by intertwining his fingers with your own.

“That same voice popped up again once I started getting close to you,” you admitted quietly. “And this whole time, I’ve been so terrified of falling that I never considered you would catch me. But I’m tired, Zuko. I’m tired of constantly looking over the edge.”

As you turned your head to meet his eyes again, your breath caught in your throat at his close proximity. You were sure that no matter how much time you spent with him, your heart would never stop beating out of your chest for Zuko.

“I will always be there to catch you,” he affirmed softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like before, he brought his hand to the side of your face and tenderly brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hand, slightly calloused but emanating comfort all the same, lingered on your cheek for a moment before he posed the question.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, and his lips captured your own immediately. You reciprocated with an almost desperate fervor and— and it just felt so right. You had grown so accustomed to the constant warmth he carried with him that it had become a part of you, he had become a part of you, and now a life without Zuko was just unimaginable.

He was right — he already was there to catch you, each and every time. Giving you endless rides when your car broke down, sitting through the world’s most boring anthro projects, letting you bare your soul to him, telling you it was all going to be okay when nothing felt okay, and managing to find you when you had gone out of your way to not be found. And all of it— it all made you realize.

You didn’t want to keep running. And you didn’t have to. Not anymore.

Zuko pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours, breathing slightly labored as the two of you sat in comfortable silence. That is, until you broke it.

“So,” you started, a nervous chuckle following. “Are we… are we a thing now?”

You could tell that caught him by surprise by the laugh that escaped him, a sound of unfiltered joy. “I’d say that we are.”

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks once more as he slid off of the hood of the car and held out his hand, an offering you took happily. “We should get home,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “It’s past midnight, and—” Zuko glanced at his phone and grimaced. “They’re all still worried out of their minds.”

“Right,” you muttered. “I’m gonna get the lecture of my life from Sokka and Katara.”

“Probably,” he chuckled. “But they’re just doing their job as concerned siblings.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and glanced back at his own car. “I’ll see you back at the apartment?”

You nodded, an uncontrollable smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Zuko. For this, and— for everything.”

He returned the sentiment, golden eyes filled with adoration.

“Always.”

if your name is crossed out it means i can’t tag you!

perm taglist: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin

transferred: @ourbestfriend-mishacollins @lil-lex1 @xxshad0wxb1rdxx @zuko-is-the-sun @akiris @irohs-teapot @thatarthistorynerd @charlenasaxen @minninugget @marvel-ousnesss @count-thotticus @what-ye-egg @furblrwurblr @thesstuff @mariachiii @ietss @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @xbarrjallenx @tommy-braccoli @dreamsluvrr @floofybread @thelovelylolly @lin-biefong-is-my-life @tiffanyy-21 @sistheselenophile @theincredibledeadlyviper @bakugouswh0r3 @loganrwebb @mikaslilworld @matsunshine @iris-suoh @aizameow @h3llbun @kozuelle

atla: @marianne1806

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jet-bradley · 3 years

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its like. the core of dark academia to me, and the reason i dont really relate to it on an aesthetic level the way most people post about it, is that academia makes so many people close to me deeply emotionally unwell in ways that it's taboo to talk about in the field itself. this isnt just about sleepless nights (as much as it is about sleepless nights), it's about how many of the smartest and most accomplished people i know have been driven to alcohol and addiction because of their studies, how deeply depressed and hopeless so many students i know are, and how little the institutions that do this to us actually care? my school's dean of students was fired from her last position for not taking SA cases seriously. and the amount of professors who genuinely do not Believe their students could ever have legitimate struggles because they think we're just using them as an excuse?

so like yeah i really do revel in the dark academia aesthetic and vibe sometimes to cope with all this bullshit through romanticizing that i'm here in the first place but there's something more to it to me than pretty pictures of books. i dont really read books for fun anymore (although i love referencing the oldest astrodynamics books i can haha).

yeah idk what im talking ab at this point if you get it you get it if you dont you dont

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plantsandpupper · 3 years

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Today is my first day off of 14!!!!! Your girl is taking some much needed vacation time for my birthday 🥳

Im usually one to not make a fuss but with world happenings and just stuff in general we are going to vegas baby! It’s probably been 5 years now since we legit have taken a vacation and I’ve so missed the excitement of it.

My resolution for the year ( which I didn’t tell anyone about ) was to drink and have more fun, two things I hardly do in general. I dont plan to become a raging alcoholic (not that I think anyone does tbh) but I’ve honestly never tried alot of drinks other than strawberry daiquiris and you’re 20’s are for discovering yourself am i right?

So I’ve got my vegas trip this month, spicy pics in April, halsey concert in june, and another big tattoo in July. I forgot how exciting and sometimes stressful planning stuff is but it’s done wonders for my mental health to have things to look forward to. Life is too short

Also still staying with my healthyish ways. I’ll never be a salad all day everyday kinda person but I somehow manage to maintain my move goal of 500 with my watch most days so thats nice. I dont know what made me think of it but the other day I realized food no longer holds control over me. Mind u this is going on two years of my gradual weight loss 😅 and it does bother me that I didn’t realize how much control food had had on me.

Like brownies, they have and always will be my thing and i used to have the hardest time not eating a whole pan in the course of a day and i had no control over them. Now i can just have a modest serving and let that satisfy my sweet tooth.

Oh and i got my hair done last month and while the smocks are never flattering, I didn’t hate how it cut of my no longer pronounced double chins etc. it’s really these little things that catch u off guard that they don’t mention about significant weightloss

Food just gives me alot of joy, im so glad i did the MasterClass subscription for keeping my practical hobby of cooking alive. I seriously enjoyed watching Roy Choys class so much. I’ve tried to keep with veg and miss my vegan ways but the parents just dont budge. They also found this local butcher that just opened and I hate to admit that they are pretty great. I was holding out till they brought home some compound butter and house blend seasonings. Their pickles are also bomb af. I might just get a rosemary tattoo for my love of cooking and their sturdiness as a plant ( ours outside refuses to die and i love that about her)

Oh and Zeus now has a doggy doorbell that he bumps with his snoot! 10/10 recommend spending the $20. The princess is still going strong and has become increasingly lovable and is slowly becoming more and more a Real Cat ™️

On a real note though this russia stuff is unsettling but I love seeing the tiktoks about how people are coping and managing. From the savage granny, to the UN walking out on russia, and pornhub of all sites blocking Russia with a message of solidarity with ukraine it gives a little hope. I hope to see alot of sunflowers this summer 🌻

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hueseok · 4 years

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heartbreak veterans.

“But what about you?” He brings up a new topic, gesturing suddenly at your whole figure and you remember that you still had the ridiculous hot pink cocktail dress on in front of this handsome man. “What’s the story behind all of that?”

You lean on your chair, pulling at the ends of the dress as if presenting it to him. “I attended a wedding. My best friend’s wedding.”

He raises his eyebrows, curious and definitely more interested, leaning on the table slightly. “Let me guess… is this best friend of yours secretly the one you’ve been sobbing about?”

You nod with a loud laugh. “Bingo.”

“Damn.” Jeongguk chuckles. “Then that just makes us heartbreak veterans now, huh?”

pairing: jeongguk x reader

word count: 10.3k

rating: PG-15

warning/s: swearing | alcohol consumption | mentions of infidelity (only for a backstory) | this has like a,,, pretty much cliche story line hsjagsh | also has a lot of dIALOGUE bc they're getting to know each other so pls dont get bored 💀

» related drabble/s: bonus scene #1

♡ crossposted on: archive of our own

You stare into space; numb, lightheaded, and well, quite tipsy thanks to your successful mission of getting half of your body filled with alcohol.

You’re still wearing the stupid bridesmaid dress for the wedding earlier today, a hot pink cocktail dress that has a halter strap that you completely found inconvenient and unfortunately ugly. You can remember faking a smile when the outfit was presented to you, acting like you were pleased to be wearing such a horrendous thing when deep down, you wanted to curse and contort your whole expression out of disgust, the style and the color of the outfit far from what you wore on a daily basis or even on days you felt experimental for you to be okay with it.

But of course, the bride is supposed to have the last verdict in things like this in order to get that dream wedding be in lined with what’s happening in real life—and you swear, if she just wasn’t your best friend’s soon-to-be wife, you might have seriously told her a piece of your mind about her poor fashion taste and proceeded on going against her wishes. This was her wedding and a huge moment of her for fuck’s sake, not a homecoming dance.

“I’d like to check out my tab please,” you finally say after you down your last drink and the bartender nods, going to the register and fixing your bill before he returns your credit card.

You grudgingly get out of your seat once you’ve tucked the card inside your purse, stumbling out the bar ever so clumsily, your vision letting you down as the things you would see in front of you appear to be doubled and swaying side by side. It makes you stagger a few times more, bumping into strangers who quite rudely push you away or some who are kind enough to help you stand still before carrying on with their business.

You’re not usually the type of person who depends on booze to make yourself better, in your defense. You’re actually the type to mop around and eat ice cream or any guilty pleasure dessert there is to exist; you like to cry and listen to songs with lyrics that will trigger your tears further. You aren’t typically this, really—you hated acting someone you were not—however the circumstances convinced you that maybe just for this one time, using alcohol to cope would be the right way to go about your pathetic and depressing feelings.

Phone ringing all of the sudden, you halt after just a few walks away from the bar, trying very hard to rummage through your purse to get the device. Once you do, you answer it without looking at the caller’s ID, a flat ‘hello?’ being spoken before you continue walking.

“____.” Seokjin’s stern voice echoes too loudly and you pull your ear away a little, marching forward once again. “Where the hell are you?”

Your stomach drops, the drinks you’ve taken earlier juggling around your system in abrupt anxiety at the realization of who was speaking.

He carries on when you fail to reply. “Are you in the restroom or something? The wedding planner told me she couldn’t find you and she needs to talk to you about the run through of the program after the meal.”

Fucker didn’t even notice I was gone, you think bitterly to yourself, which you also think is stupid in its own right as well since it isn’t like he was supposed to when he has a reception to be the center of.

“I’m somewhere… somewhere…” you trail, blinking hard, trying to get the right words out, “else, yeah, not there, definitely.”

“What?”

“Not there. Me is not. Wait, I mean—”

“____,” he cuts you off and hisses, causing your ear to tingle and your head to pound further, “are you drunk?”

You swallow hard and wince. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?” he repeats, disbelief evident in his tone. “Where are you?”

“I… not sure.”

“Do you see any signs?”

“Yeah.”

“What do they say? I’ll come and get you.”

“Get me?”

“Yes.”

“You?” You ask, sobering at his statement. “No, no, you aren’t—the fuck? You can’t—your wedding—it’s your wedding reception!”

He sounds exasperated as he tells you his next words. “You’re not in a familiar place, dumbass. You might get lost.”

“I’m fine. You don’t need to—”

“Where are you?”

“Don’t find me.”

“You can’t tell me that.”

“Why not?” You whine, stomping your foot even though you know the effort won’t be seen by him. “Just leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

“And you can’t just wait until you finish attending your best friend’s wedding, huh?”

“Well, yeah.”

There’s a short pause and you can imagine him rolling his eyes, that perfect face of his visibly looking infuriated before you hear him click his tongue. “____, I’m serious, tell me where you are. I’ll come get you—or ask someone to get you or something if you don’t want me to.”

“No thanks. I told you I’m fine.”

Whatever he said afterwards (which consisted mostly of frustrated scolding), it didn’t manage to go through your head properly. All that’s running through it for the past minute or two instead is about him wanting to find you.

Well, he didn’t exactly word it like that, but your mind was convincing you otherwise and pointing out the fact that he was willing to actually leave his wedding reception just to get you back where you’re supposed to be. It reminds you once again how you’re such a fool for being cliché and falling in love with your best friend—your best friend who you got the chance to see exchange vows with his bride earlier; your best friend who you saw kiss her with so much love and passion; your best friend, who all your life, had you hoping that eventually it’ll be you and him in the end, only to realize it today that it has always been impossible to happen and you were just constantly stuck in your wistful fantasies.

“____, did you hear me? Tell me where you are and—”

“I’m sorry, Jin.” You sigh, sounding a bit more dejected now and just plain tired, the alcohol and your depressing thoughts getting the best of you. “I can’t do it. Can’t… can’t—fuck—pretend anymore that I’m okay.”

“What?”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning. Congratulations again.”

“____, what do you—”

You don’t bother hearing what he was going to reply to that but just hang up, almost dropping your phone as you let your hand fall back on your side harshly, fingers almost letting it slip as your feet drag you to nowhere in particular, just forward, hoping that you’ll just somehow find yourself back in the hotel after a few more strides.

Your heart is starting to ache again. Since the beginning of the day when you had to face Naeun, his now beautiful blooming wife, for a bunch of photo taking sessions with your fellow bridesmaids, it ached so bad, and yet you pretended to be okay, flashing smiles and making yourself appear to be the overly enthusiastic friend who was so happy to see Seokjin happy. But who are you kidding? You aren’t happy. The man that you’ve been in love with for several years just tied the knot with someone else. How is that supposed to make you happy?

“We were so beautiful; we were so tragic… no other magic, could ever compare.” A sweet-sounding melodic voice catches your attention, and you look sideways, seeing a young man singing by the sidewalk, sitting on a stool that’s placed in between two restaurants, holding a mic stand. “Lost myself, seventeen. Then you came, found me… no other magic could ever compare.”

You frown, drawing nearer to him and seeing his features clearer now. He’s a handsome man, about your age or possibly younger, wearing a dark blue button shirt tucked underneath black tight jeans. His hair is a little longer than the average, and from his hands up to his forearms which you manage to see because of his long sleeves being folded, various tattoos are inked on his skin.

You’re mesmerized quite frankly, not just by his appearance, but by how angelic his voice really is as each note just enters fluidly in your eardrums, that you can’t help but just stare at him, hugging your arms.

As his eyes scan the crowd, it abruptly lands on you, and you don’t look away, still utterly amazed.

“For as long as I live and as long as I love, I will never not think about you…” his eyes stay on you, “you… mmm, I will never not think about you.”

Throughout the whole time he sang, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, wanting to hear the rest of it and just understand the lyrics that felt like it was written to match what you were dealing with right now. You eventually find a seat close to the stage to sit on, eyes focused on the man who you notice would always glance back to you, his gaze staying longer than normal before he directs his attention back to the other people who are watching him like you are, his expression solemn and his voice just full of emotion.

You start thinking more about Seokjin involuntarily, just recalling the moments when you were almost sure it was going to be the moment he was finally going to realize that he too had feelings for you. But then he would make it apparent that all the sweet things he does to you, all the affection he shows you, all the time when you think he reciprocated your feelings—it’s just all out of love as a friend and as a ‘brother’. You start to think that maybe you should have just stayed away from him when you noticed that your crush for him was growing into something deeper, but you didn’t want to be unfair to Seokjin, who since you were kids, have been there to always pick you up on your feet. It seemed selfish to cut him off your life for a reason that only you faced consequences from.

When the song ends, you clap weakly along with the crowd who even whistled, the singer smiling and taking a short bow before you see him once again turning to you, and this time, he’s actually walking towards your way which makes you sit up properly from your position that had your elbows leaned on the table with your fist against your cheek. Now that he’s standing in front of you, he suddenly offers you something which you recognize as a handkerchief.

It was only then that you realize that you’ve been crying, your tears just flowing nonstop the moment you’ve taken a seat there. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand at the discovery, while he pushes the cloth towards you again, as if saying that you should take it, and you do, grabbing it gingerly and using it to wipe the tears that were still pretty much uncontrollably washing your face.

“Sorry,” you say, and you notice another busker coming up to his previous place, “it was just—you sang really good… uh…” you’re trying to figure out his name since you swear you heard one of the people who are watching as well shout it.

“Jeongguk,” he fills in for you with a chuckle. “And thanks…” He copies what you did, and you smile.

“____.” You look up as you tell him and he’s still looking at you, a curious look on his expression.

“Beautiful name.”

You chuckle. This isn’t supposed to be the right time to be flattered when being somehow hit on. “Thanks,” you meekly say. “Um, by the way, now that you’re here, I guess I should ask—what song was that?” you ask quickly. “I want to—I mean, I don’t think I ever heard it somewhere. It’d be good on my playlist.”

“Well, I don’t think you’d be finding it online or somewhere else even if I tell you. It’s an original composition.”

“Really?” You widen your eyes at him, lowering the handkerchief as you calm down. “You wrote that? And like make the melody and stuff?”

He nods slowly, a teasing smile on his lips. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“How?”

“How?” he repeats in confusion.

You blink. “Oh, sorry, that was a stupid question. But wow. You’re so talented.”

Jeongguk sniggers, your dumbfounded expression appearing kinda cute. “Thanks, again.”

“But what made you write such a sad song?”

The genuine interest in your voice amuses him.

To be honest, he wasn’t supposed to approach you just because you looked pretty in his eyes. He knows too well from past experiences that doing that might not end in good results. But then he had to see you wear a ridiculously pink cocktail dress when you emerged from the crowd as you take a seat by one of the tables near him, abruptly crying once he sang the chorus and never stopped until he finished singing. So, he just couldn’t resist it then, wanting to know what was making you sob this hard—and why you looked like you just attended a very confusingly 1950s themed party.

“It’s not an interesting story.” He shrugs. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to be bothered,” you say, smiling, a contrast to your tear-stricken face. “Just tell me. I’ve had a few drinks anyway—in case you didn’t notice that—so… like, if you want me to forget about this tomorrow, consider it done.”

He stares at you, a few seconds of just purely examining your face before he’s pulling the chair out across yours. “Alright. If you say so.”

You grin.

Jeongguk leans back on his seat. “But just a disclaimer, it’s nothing special really, just the usual love story wherein you were high school sweethearts and one had to go study in a university away from town.”

“Were you the one who left or…”

“She did.”

“Ah.”

“It really wasn’t supposed to be a big deal though,” he tells you. “I wasn’t the type to get worried about distance and stuff. But then she kinda—well, she did, not kinda—cheated on me, just when we were months away from graduating college. Wouldn’t have known it if I didn’t pay her a surprise visit outside the building where the dormitories are.”

“Wow, that… sucks.”

“It did.” He takes in a deep breath. “We’ve been in a relationship since sixteen? Yup. And she throws it away, just like that.”

“What happened when you caught her?”

“She apologized, said some shit about how she was just lonely and all that. Turns out that she’s been fooling around with the guy since sophomore year. I said that alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll let you do whatever the hell you want with your life, and just took the train back here in Busan.”

“That’s a really dramatic exit.” You joke and he chuckles.

“It kinda is, huh?”

“Still,” you smile warmly at him, red cheeks presenting itself accompanied by droopy eyelids that somehow made you look even more attractive, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Some people are just plain shitty.”

Jeongguk finds himself gazing at you too long again. “I’m alright now though.”

“Doesn’t seem like it, judging from the song.”

“Good point.” He chuckles. “But it’s been a long time since that happened, about three years.”

“And you still think about her?”

“She was my first love. I guess the song’s like a tribute at least—and some sort of goodbye note.”

“But…” you furrow your eyebrows, a smile now uncontrollably appearing on your mouth, “the lyrics clearly state that you can never not think about her.”

“____,” he says your name in a knowing and playful tone, something that just causes your heart to make an unnecessary jump inside your ribcage, “sometimes lyrics have some exaggerations to make it prettier, you know?”

You snort. “Guess so.”

“But what about you?” He brings up new topic, gesturing suddenly at your whole figure and you remember that you still had the ridiculous hot pink cocktail dress on in front of this handsome man. “What’s the story behind all of that?”

You lean on your chair, pulling at the ends of the dress as if presenting it to him. “I attended a wedding. My best friend’s wedding.”

He raises his eyebrows, curious and definitely more interested, leaning on the table slightly. “Let me guess… is this best friend of yours secretly the one you’ve been sobbing about?”

You nod with a loud laugh. “Bingo.”

“Damn.” Jeongguk chuckles. “Then that just makes us heartbreak veterans now, huh?”

“Basically.”

“What’s the tea?”

You have to laugh again at how he chooses his words, not expecting a macho looking man like him with a sleeved tattoo to be muttering such things. But you have been noticing that in contrast with his body, his face was really… how were you supposed to describe it… youthful perhaps? With just every grin he does, it reveals very boyish features that you can’t deny was making you grow more dazzled by him. You already know that before this night ends, his face is going to be one of the things you will never forget from this trip.

“Just the same old friendzoned drama.” You sigh. “We’ve been friends since kids. I started liking him. He never liked me that way. And he just got married earlier. I was even one of the bridesmaids—that’s why I’m wearing this stupid dress.”

“It’s not stupid,” he assures you, though he was biting his lower lip to suppress a grin. “Just really eye catching. I would have probably seen you like a street away from where I was singing.”

“I’ll take that to offense,” you joke, and he chuckles along with you.

“You still look pretty though, don’t worry.”

You blink rapidly, blood rushing to your cheeks quickly that you feel your face heat up in the next five seconds. “Really? I’ve been like… also ugly crying for the past hour. I probably look like a mess.”

“You still look fine to me,” he says with a careless shrug. “But as you were saying, about your best friend…”

“Oh, right,” you raise your eyebrow, surprised that he really is interested in what story you had to tell to ask again, “well, there’s not much to it other than that. I did kinda leave his wedding reception earlier though with the aim to get wasted. But I didn’t want to be too drunk because I figured… that’d be stupid so… I left the bar earlier than I planned too and then that’s when I heard you sing.”

“Did it feel like angels were calling?”

“Quite frankly, yeah.” You sincerely admit. “You have a very beautiful voice.”

“You know,” he leans on the table once more, “if you say that again, I might just think you’re only flattering me.”

“It’s true! I mean, I wouldn’t have been drawn if that wasn’t the case. Plus, your song really hit a spot. I wish you could’ve put it on Soundcloud or something.”

“Soundcloud, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re familiar with the site.”

“I am but… nah. I want my songs to be—how can I put it—rare, perhaps? Like, if you want to hear it, you’ll have to be here at the restobar.”

“That’s poetic.”

“Is it?”

“A little. Do you work at the restobar as a regular singer here outside?”

“This my family’s resto, actually, and yeah, you could say that.”

“This is yours?” You point at the entrance of the resto, a building which looks kinda higher class compared to the other ones, if that made sense, which is primarily the reason why when you passed by it earlier, you didn’t bother drinking there. “Your family owns this?”

“Yup.”

“You’re rich?”

“I wouldn’t use rich as a word to describe our financial situation but, I’ll take it.”

You snort. “Still though, you just made yourself appear dreamier. I mean, you’re handsome, you sing really well—like, I honestly can’t stress it enough—you turn out to be charming and nice too, and now you’re rich? Did God just shower you with all the good things when you were born?”

The compliments are so wholesome, unlike the usual things he would hear from the other girls he’d bother talking to in the past. And you even had a few drinks in this case, yet by the way you’re praising him right now is something that really strikes him, as it’s so focused on the talent he possessed and the personality he has rather than just how he looked. Not saying that he doesn’t like to be hit on from time to time because of his outer appearance, truth be told (his ego still got the best of him when triggered), but you’re undoubtedly a breath of fresh air from all the ones who always try too hard to find ways to sleep with him before they finish conversing.

“You wanna go inside?” he asks after a few seconds of blatantly gazing at you. “Are you up for more drinks, I mean? Just a few beers, my treat.”

“You’ll treat me?”

“Why not?”

You smile. “Well, I’m always up for more drinks. Plus, I might not pester you too much anyways since I already drank a considerably huge amount before this.”

“Is that a yes?” He stands up and looks at you, waiting.

“Sure.” You too stand up and when you do, he reaches for your hand but stops when he’s so close to holding it, instead keeping his palm in view and letting you decide if you wanted to take it or not.

But of course, you take it, without even missing a heartbeat, something that baffles your subconscious mind because you don’t remember being this comfortable with the people you just met. You’re always so reserved and is the type who definitely doesn’t do half of the things you just did tonight—but here you are, following him now inside the restobar which surprisingly doesn’t have a lot of people in, a soft R&B song playing in the background. You notice that the customers are mostly outside where it’s probably much more fun, not here where you aren’t allowed to make that much of noise or smoke, and that’s why the inside is practically empty.

“Where do you wanna sit?” he asks as he glances back at you.

You stop scanning the interior of the place, your eyes going back to him after admiring the ceiling designs, the various frames that hang on the walls, the bar counter and the alcohol display it has behind it. It’s a minimal look, just the right amount of aesthetics that is easy on the eyes.

“Anywhere,” you finally say, “take me to the best seat you know.”

Jeongguk laughs at that and pulls you to the lounge sofa that was at the right side of the bar, one of the few seats that doesn’t have any occupants. He lets you sit down first while he remains standing, a smile on his face still and you look up at him, expecting him to join you.

“I’ll just get the drinks. Do you want something else?” he asks.

“Fries with lots of cheese sauce, if you have it.”

“How long have you had that in mind? You didn’t even hesitate.”

You laugh. “I saw someone outside eating the same thing, that’s why I said it.”

“And your wish is my command. I’ll be back in a sec.” He winks before heading to the counter where he talks with a dimpled man who glances at your way then playfully punches Jeongguk’s shoulder, the two of them laughing.

You remain gazing at Jeongguk’s back, not meaning to but just appreciating the way his body is so proportioned and fit. He’s the right amount of tall, muscular—but not too muscular either, you aren’t a fan of men who has too big muscles—and also, you can’t help but notice how his thighs are definitely something else, or maybe it’s just those jeans he’s wearing that are really accentuating it a lot, along with his undeniably curvy ass.

Okay. Why are you even thinking about how his ass looks great?

All your life, you’ve only been focused on one man only, and that’s obviously always been Seokjin. Even though you had a fair share of boyfriends and flings over the years that passed by as you grew up, and even though you did love at least one or two of them genuinely with all of your heart, it was always still Seokjin that you’d end up thinking about the moment you’re single again. It’s like an endless cycle of you realizing you’re in love with him and then finding someone you think that can prove you otherwise—but the said someone breaks your heart and you’re back again from where you’re started.

You’re admittedly kind of afraid Jeongguk was going to end up like that too. Not that you’re positive something is going to happen before the night ends, but he appears just too good to be true, like a man who is positively written by a woman, and perhaps a man that isn’t destined to end up with someone like you once that book ends.

He comes back with two huge glasses of beers, one of them filled only halfway through, and hanging on his forearm now is a jean jacket that you don’t think you saw him getting because of you spacing out a little while after shamelessly admiring his bottom. He sits beside you quickly, your knees slightly bumping against each other under the table before he slides the glass—the half-full one—in front of you.

“The fries are going to take a few minutes.”

You slide your beer nearer to you. “No problem. I think I shouldn’t complain since I’m getting this for free.”

“Uh, take this too, by the way. It’s chilly here because of the A/C.”

You raise your eyebrows as he hands you the jean jacket. “Oh, you didn’t have to.”

“You literally have no sleeves on,” he says. “Just take it. Don’t worry, it smells okay.”

“Just okay?” you tease but accept his offer nonetheless, getting it from his hand and wearing it, a fragrant that smelled fresh and clean at the same time filling your nostrils that you subtly take another inhale just to get the scent in better, something that Jeongguk notices but doesn’t bring up, only smiling.

Once you’re done, you grab the glass of beer waiting for you again and take a long sip.

“You like it?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod, licking your lips before bringing it down. “It’s nice.”

“Just nice?”

You chuckle sheepishly. “Uh, delicious? Will that suffice?”

“I’ll take it.”

You two chuckle at each other once more.

“Anyways,” he drinks from his glass too, “been wanting to ask you. You’re not from around here, aren’t you?”

“Yup. I’m from Seoul. It’s Naeun who’s from here—she wanted the wedding to happen here so—”

“Naeun’s the best friend’s wife?”

“Yeah.” You’re slightly surprised again to realize that he was paying attention earlier.

“And what’s the best friend’s name?”

“Seokjin.” You laugh at how the conversation is flowing.

He flashes a similar grin, showcasing a smile that has you leaning on your elbow as you look at him sideways, swooning. “How long have they’ve been together?” he asks.

“About… um, maybe four years?”

“How long have you been in love with Seokjin?”

“Long time,” you state with a sigh, “I don’t even know exactly when. I just know it’s probably like… before high school.”

He raises his brows, now leaning on his elbow too like you. “You’ve been pining over him for a long time then.”

“Yeah… which is really stupid of me to do so. Seokjin always made it obvious that he didn’t see me that way, but I always hoped.”

“Nothing wrong with hoping. If I was in your shoes, I probably would have been the same thing.”

“You don’t peg me as the pining type though.”

Jeongguk snorts. “I was waiting for a girl to come home only during winter breaks. Of course, I’m the pining type.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you’re like… the one who should be pining over for.”

“Why? Because I’m handsome?”

“You’re starting to really love the compliments from me, huh?”

“Well,” he takes his glass of beer again, “can’t deny that compliments from a beautiful girl excites me.”

“Is it safe to assume that the beautiful girl you’re pertaining to is me?”

“I’m not talking to anyone else right now, am I?”

“Ah, and we’re flirting now too?” You grin. “But alright, we should probably make the most of it because you won’t see this side of me when sober.”

“So, we are seeing each other again after this?”

The both of you erupt in laughter, you taking your glass too to down the rest of your beer.

“Anyway, what do you do in Seoul?” he asks, starting another topic.

“Like my work?”

“Yeah.”

“Library. I work there.”

“You do?”

You chuckle. “I can tell you’re surprised.”

“You look more outgoing for a librarian.”

“I told you,” you force your eyes to open wider, “I’m usually a lot more boring when I’m alcohol free. Also, why do librarians always have to be old and boring people in your heads?”

He’s amused at the annoyance in your tone. “It’s not that—but alright, I’ll confess and say that I was expecting a much more exciting job from you.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know… just not that.”

“I wanted to be a flight attendant at first,” you say. “But I don’t know shit about swimming and I’m afraid of like—doing all the basic stuff for emergencies.”

“You’d be the worst flight attendant with that attitude.”

“I know! I’ll probably get an award for it too.” You snicker. “You? If you weren’t a dreamy busker, what would you be?”

He likes the adjective you added before saying ‘busker’. “Professional gamer.”

“Online games?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a cliché.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Every guy I’ve known mentioned at least once in their life to want to be something related to doing games.”

“Well, are they good at it? Because I sure am.”

“I bet you are. I bet you’re good at a lot of things too—a jack of all trades, but like, really masters of everything.” You laugh.

Things are beginning to feel so easy with Jeongguk that it just makes you surprised all over again whenever you’ll get reminded that he is a stranger. It hasn’t been an hour even since you met though by how you’re bantering and telling things to each other, made it seem like he’s a long-lost friend that you’re only catching up with.

You like how his eyes stare through yours in interest in every word you say, even if the majority of them comes out as nonsense or just plain blabbering as the clock continues to tick—he still would pour effort to focus every piece of his attention on you despite turning a little tipsy the more he drinks and order another round of beer, asking you questions if he doesn’t understand a part or letting you repeat what you said if you spoke too fast or too gibberish.

Time appeared to fly so fast the more you converse with him that you don’t notice how you’ve already finished your beverage eventually, the fries you requested being eaten up and finished too, along with the people who have been coming and going throughout making the place practically empty. You don’t even think about how you’re still there wearing the cursed dress or that you bailed Seokjin’s wedding to escape more heartache—it’s suddenly just you and him in this restobar, nothing and no one else, jumping from one topic to another with such familiarity it was truly strange, but you sure as hell isn’t complaining.

***

God, it’s been what? Two hours now? It’s been two hours and you’re still here, still wanting to learn more about Jeongguk.

He still can’t get over the fact that you aren’t crawling on top of him like what he’s been imagining when you first started talking earlier, thinking that this might end up like one of his meaningless hookups. Though it isn’t like he was aiming to do that with you when he approached you earlier, he just isn’t expecting that you’ll be like this instead, not when you fit the exact criteria of what a general one-night stand material portrayed in movies would be: the vulnerable girl who fucks around with a guy she barely knows just to forget about the guy she really loves.

But you are starting to be more physically affectionate the more the night progresses, a little bit more intoxicated than before that you’ve gone sitting too close to him yet neither of you back away, hand going from caressing his own to his wrist and forearm, all the while you continue to stare at him fondly with tired eyelids. You might give your alcohol tolerance more credit for not throwing up or possibly humiliating yourself in front of him yet.

“When are you going home?” he asks as another topic ends, the question slipping out of him immediately when he couldn’t stop his curiosity from taking the lead.

The thought keeps jumping in his mind for a few minutes now. He didn’t reckon that he was going to enjoy your company like this, up the extend that he’s dreading the moment you’ll have to leave and he’ll perhaps have to inevitably get over you, because like all the girls who visited his family’s restobar in the past and who he happened to be interested in, he never got to see them again after a good night.

However, you aren’t quite like the girls he used to like, aren’t you?

Your lips form in a pout at what your answer is going to be. “Tomorrow.”

Jeongguk frowns at that. “Already?”

“Yeah… been here for… a week? Yeah.”

“Yet we had to meet today.”

You snort, agreeing, but then you focus your attention on his tattoos, obviously sidetracked. “What does this mean?” You hold his arm with soft hands, a finger pointed at a tattoo that has a flower blooming with written words behind it that you couldn’t read properly.

Jeongguk glances at it, the spot where you touched his arm sending a warm feeling inside him. “It’s my birth flower.”

“Which is?”

“A tiger flower.”

“Ah, the pattern! I see the tiger element.” You drag his arm forward to extend it and let your finger glide along his inked skin. “What does it say?”

“Please love me.”

You look up. “What?”

“The phrase, it’s ‘please love me’.” He smirks with a chuckle. “But you’re free to take that seriously too.”

“Hey, Jeonggukie—”

“Jeonggukie?” His face is dangerously close now. “Nickname bases now, huh?”

You grin. “You like it.”

“I do.”

You stare at him; you stare at his eyes and then at his lips and then back on his pupils. “You’re really pretty.”

He chuckles under his breath. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m okay.” You lean your side on the headrest, sighing. Even though Jeongguk does appear kinda hazy now, you’re still sure about what you told him of him being pretty. “I want to talk to you more.”

Jeongguk’s heart starts to feel weird—an unusual feeling that has his spine tingling.

“What are your other tattoos?” you ask him again, hand back to holding his and he begins playing with your fingers too, enjoying the gentleness and how small it was compared to his.

“I have some more along my shoulder, but it’s hard to show it to you now.”

“Show me when we meet again.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. I just know it has to happen.”

“Sure thing.”

You smile sleepily. “I want to get a tattoo too, you know. Probably like,” you blink, thinking hard, “like those white ones. White inks, yeah. They’re nice.”

Jeongguk is getting more amused at your slurred speech. “They’ll look nice on you too.”

“You think?”

“I’m positive.”

You giggle. “I want your lyrics tattooed too.”

He raises his brows. “Yeah? Which one?”

“Can’t… can’t remember.” You laugh childishly. “But like—the one—uh… the first thing… tragic something…”

“‘We were so beautiful; we were so tragic’?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah! That’s it.” You abruptly let go of his hand to gesture behind your forearm. “Right—kinda in this spot—right here, yup. But with your… your handwriting.”

He likes the sound of that. “It’s a sad lyric though. Think you want that tattooed on your arm?”

“It’s a sad lyric but it spoke to me,” you explain before gazing at him, a lopsided smile on your lips. “You… actually, you spoke to me.”

Jeongguk blinks, speechless, and most definitely touched to hear someone say that about a line he wrote. Singing isn’t something he pursued seriously, but he likes to go back to it from time to time, motivated by the countless people who appreciate his voice and his performances whenever he busks outside their restaurant—yet you saying that to him right now, makes him want to take it more earnestly and with more dedication. The last time someone commended him like that, it was his mother who overheard him singing one of his own compositions in the living room.

“Shit,” he mutters, still blinking rapidly as he feels like the effect of alcohol in his system subsiding, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Yeah?”

“May I?” he whispers. “Or is that too fast?”

“I don’t know. How long have we met?” You laugh and he follows right after, seemingly not able to stop himself from always doing the same whenever you did it first. Your laugh gives him this sappy urge to write a song about it.

There’s a short silence of the both of you just gazing at each other, of him back to holding your hand, your fingers lacing and latching on the other tightly, as if you two were afraid that if you held it loosely, the person in front of you was going to vanish into thin air. And you ponder about it—if that’s to happen, if this ends up some kind of happy dream that you aren’t able to come back to in the future, then you should at least grant yourself the favor of not wanting to put yourself back for once.

“Jeongguk,” you murmur his name.

He hums in acknowledgment, head unconsciously drawing nearer.

“You… you can kiss me. If you still want.”

He smiles. Soon a fond and soft expression spreads on his handsome face.

The next time your eyes meet, it’s when he finishes kissing you, when your lips are no longer pressing against each other and the salty plus cheesy taste he has on his mouth because of the fries begin to fade. You gaze at him, surprised at how genuinely right it feels despite the odd circumstances that led you to him, and you weakly haul him back towards you, kissing him again, with more passion and intent, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips and kiss you sensually that a quiet moan manages to escape you.

Jeongguk exhales as you both let go, breathing for air. “Shit.”

You tilt your head to the side before it falls back on the sofa tiredly. “What? Was it that bad?”

“No,” he snorts, sneaking another kiss on your mouth that you blush at, “it’s just that I think I just made it harder for myself to get over you.”

You laugh again, a sound that echoes inside his ears gleefully and finishes too early. “I’m sure you’ll get past it quicker than you think.”

“Impossible. I’m even tempted to keep you with me until you fly back.”

“That sounds—” you yawn abruptly, the drowsiness no longer being hidden— “great… actually.”

He snickers in affection. “You think?”

“Uh-huh.”

He grins, brushing your hair away from your forehead and watching as you close your eyes, failing to open them again, suddenly falling asleep.

***

“How are you planning to take her home?”

Jeongguk glances at Namjoon, the man behind the bar who just approached your table upon being called. You’re passed out beside him on the sofa, snoring quietly with no sign of waking up anytime; Jeongguk already tried to shake you as gently as he could to bring you back to where you were staying at, but clearly, your stated deemed it hard for him to do so.

“I have no idea,” he says. “Do you know any place hosting a reception tonight?”

“There’s a lot of places hosting a reception or any type of reception tonight, Guk. Why don’t you just let her sleep at your place?”

“Can’t. She’s due to leave tomorrow.”

“Damn. Sucks for you then.” Namjoon chuckles, his tone not really apologetic but rather teasing. “Should I just call some hotels and ask? The one she’s staying at might not be that far if she’s here.”

“Yeah, that would be—”

A ring stops him mid-sentence and he quickly scans the area where you’re sitting on to find the source of the sound, spotting your purse beside you and opening it to see your cellphone ringing. Jeongguk sighs in relief, signaling to Namjoon that maybe he’s got it handled after all, and the latter nods before striding back to his post, attending to a customer that is waiting at the bar counter.

He reads the caller’s ID. Someone named ‘Sooyoung’ is calling you.

“Hello?” he greets.

A long pause. “This isn’t ____.” Another pause. “Did I get the wrong number or—”

“No, no, you didn’t get the wrong number. She’s, uh, she’s with me at the moment but she’s asleep, so I figured it’d be okay for me to answer. Can you pick her up?”

“____’s asleep?”

“She’s also very drunk.”

“Oh my god.”

“She’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Great, okay.” She sighs. “Can you tell me the address now? I’ll pick her up.”

Jeongguk dictates the address of the restobar, adding that even if she just tells the name to the cab she’ll be taking, they’ll know it anyway. ‘Sooyoung’ thanks him, apologizes too in case you caused him any convenience which Jeongguk smirks to, and hangs up.

The moment she does, and your phone goes back to its default lock screen, Jeongguk contemplates a little while before smirking once more to himself, opting to go to the accessible camera app and directing the front camera to both of your faces. You might be annoyed when you see this the next time you open your gallery, but he decides at least you’ll have a picture together from your phone as well (since he is planning to take one from his own cellphone too).

An hour later, a girl enters the restobar and introduces herself to be your friend, Sooyoung. She and Jeongguk shake hands, with Jeongguk explaining what happened as politely as he could to not make it seem like there was anything suspicious that happened between the both of you, and she apologizes again, saying that you aren’t usually like this and that you tend to know better than just go out and get drunk by yourself with no back-up plan.

Jeongguk wants to say that he understands why you did what you did, considering that you two just poured almost all of your life stories with one another, though he thinks that it’s wise if he would just grant you the opportunity to confess that bit to Sooyoung yourself, as he believes he’s not the kind of guy who likes to kiss and tell.

“Are you sure you can handle her on your own?” Jeongguk asks while gently placing you inside the cab that Sooyoung has standing by the entrance.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want to burden you enough.” She smiles. “Oh, is this your jacket, by any chance?” She points at the one you’re wearing.

He nods. “Yeah. I can just pick it up tomorrow. What time are you guys leaving?”

She doesn’t mask her surprise to see that Jeongguk apparently knows you’re leaving tomorrow. “6 pm.”

“Then can you tell her I’ll stop by at maybe 2:30?”

She seems to hesitate, analyzing Jeongguk, until finally she shrugs. “Sure. I’ll tell her.

“Thanks.”

Jeongguk opens the door for her at the passenger’s seat and she mutters a ‘thanks’ too, the both of them exchanging friendly smiles before the vehicle drives away and he watches, refusing to leave his spot until it’s gone from his line of vision and he’s placing his hands inside his pockets, already thinking about seeing you again in less than 24 hours.

He knows a day will never feel so long in his life.

***

You wake up with your head aching so bad.

You’re aware of the fact that Sooyoung is practically shouting her lungs out, hence why your brain is having the risk of an explosion at the moment too, and when you officially open your eyes, you see that you’re in her hotel room and that she’s standing by the foot of the bed, talking to someone on the phone animatedly, looking frustrated and aggravated as she continues to talk.

“Ugh, I told you, Seokjin—I don’t know the guy!” She rolls her eyes. “He wasn’t—no, ____ wouldn’t be stupid to hook up with someone in that state of mind—”

You groan loudly and purposely, letting her know that you are now awake and that it’d be appreciated if she shuts up because of it as it isn’t helping this hangover you’re experiencing. It works immediately thank goodness, because Sooyoung stops talking once you do, snapping her head so quickly towards you and the instance your eyes connect, see absolute fury in her eyes, gritting her teeth together.

“Call you later. She’s awake.” She hangs up, a distorted voice yelling from the other line, and then a pillow gets thrown on your face.

“Soo!” You groan again, pushing the pillow to the side.

“____!” she repeats with an even angrier voice, the action causing a sledgehammer to pierce through your skull. “Are you nuts? You bailed Seokjin’s wedding reception—unable to be contacted throughout the whole fucking night—and then it’s 1 am and you finally answer my calls but turns out it’s a guy who’s using your phone, saying that I need to pick you up in a bar. Are you fucking nuts?” she exclaims.

You wince because of the further yelling, trying to think of a stupid excuse that isn’t going to reveal the true nature of why you bailed.

But at the mention of a guy, you suddenly remember him—Jeongguk, the ridiculously attractive man you met last night, and your cheeks start to flush, every moment just flashing back, including those lame attempts of flirting and you being way too touchy and clingy to him. It makes you moan out in annoyance, clutching your head both in embarrassment because of your own actions and because it still hurt like hell.

Though on top of that, you can’t deny how you recall being so comfortable with him and how he was so charming the whole time as well, that you wish that somehow you can see him again before you leave—if you still have the courage to face him after being a drunken idiot, that is.

“____!”

“What? Stop shouting.” You whine, your hands landing back on the bed in exasperation. “I can perfectly hear you.”

“Then why are you not explaining? Do you know how worried we were? Do you know how worried Seokjin was? He couldn’t even concentrate on the rest of his reception because of you.”

Bit by bit, your mind is starting to function right. “What?”

“He was obviously anxious for the rest of the program. Couldn’t even concentrate on the other guests’ speeches.”

You frown, certainly not aiming to do make Seokjin worry like that. Is it so bad that you were thinking of your own feelings for once that when you wanted to get away from the man you’ve been pining over for several years, you really did and even continued to bail on his wedding reception? Somehow even when you think you’re finally doing the right thing by doing that step, the universe just proves you otherwise and points you as a selfish person who thinks it’s okay to burden others for the sake of your own happiness.

Sooyoung notices how your eyes are watering, and she lets out a breathe. “Look, ____, we were just really worried, okay? You should have at least told me where you were so I wouldn’t have to be thinking all night where you could be.”

“I… I’m sorry. I, I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine.” She purses her lips, sitting beside you. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You are, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“____....”

“I’ll manage. I have to.” You give her a halfhearted smile. “But, uh, is Seokjin… where…”

“At the airport. They’re leaving for Hawaii in about an hour.”

“Oh.”

“He wanted to talk to you before you go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He was supposed to stop by this morning, but their schedule is packed, and of course, they were tired from last night—”

“I get it. No need to tell me any details.”

Sooyoung studies your face, her lips curving downwards. “Are you really okay? I mean, you can tell me anything, you know.” She’s much calmer now and emphatic to your emotions, reminded of your feelings towards your best friend and at least using that to make herself understand you more.

“I know.” You look at her. “But I’m doing better than I expected. Thank you.”

“How about calling Seokjin? Don’t you want to talk to him?”

“No. I bet he’s disappointed and mad. I’ll let him enjoy things with Naeun.”

“Still, he really was worried sick.”

“Then just… tell him that I’m okay now,” you say. “Please, I think I crossed the line last night so… I rather not talk to him yet.”

“What do you mean?”

You gently massage your temples. “I can’t dwell on it now. I need to take a bath first—I stink. Were you the one who dressed me into this?” You gesture at the pajamas and top you’re wearing.

“Yeah, who else? Mr. Hottie?”

You widen your eyes, cheeks getting redder in an instant, the memory of how Jeongguk would smile at you and look at your eyes—and kiss you—flashing back. “You met Jeongguk?”

“Ah, so that’s his name. Forgot to ask him last before we left.” She grins teasingly. “I told you, he answered your phone and then wondered if I could pick you up. Of course, I met him—and oh! He said he’ll get his jacket sometime before we leave the hotel.”

“Jacket?”

“The jean jacket. You were still wearing it when we went back.”

“He’s going to go here?” You exclaim loudly.

“Yeah, actually he said about 2:30 which—”

You automatically scramble out of the bed, almost tripping on your own feet, ignoring your still aching head and now aching joints to get your purse that had your keycard inside, rushing the hallway to go to your room with the aim to take a bath and prepare since if what Sooyoung said is true, then it means Jeongguk is going to arrive in approximately forty minutes—and shit, you have to make yourself more presentable than yesterday for redemption.

***

“Jeongguk!”

He stops walking towards the entrance of the hotel and turns his head towards whoever called his name, seeing the familiar face of Yoongi walking up to him from a taxi. He’s a friend of his brother who eventually became his friend too once he got older because of their shared love for anything related to alcoholic really. Yoongi’s family owns a company that resells alcoholic beverages from its original manufacturers, supplying the restobar owned by Jeongguk’s family too and this hotel that the both of them are heading in.

“Yoongi.” He smiles.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Is the restaurant gonna invite you to sing for them again?” Yoongi asks first thing as he stops in front of him.

“Nope, just visiting someone.”

Yoongi squints his eyes at that and Jeongguk rolls his, knowing that he was going to be teased again.

“It’s not what you think it is,” he says immediately.

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“Well, you might have done so anyway because of your face.”

They laugh and when Jeongguk glances sideways for a split second, he thinks it’s you who he sees walking out from a corridor inside the hotel, his familiar jean jacket hanging on your forearm. Jeongguk takes a step backward to angle his position and get a clearer view because of that, Yoongi snapping his eyes to where Jeongguk’s looking at in curiosity as well.

“So sorry to cut this short, Yoongi, but I think I need to go. It was nice to see you again.” He pats Yoongi’s shoulder as farewell, his sentence honestly coming out as rushed however he could care less, too eager to meet you again that he doesn’t bother to wait for Yoongi’s response before he’s marching away.

Jeongguk jogs to the lobby where he sees Sooyoung, talking to you who looks different now that you aren’t wearing the eye-catching hot pink dress, instead dressed in faded blue jeans and a plain white V-neck top that hugs your figure in the right and flattering places. Your hair isn’t tied up in a bun anymore too, but laid down casually behind your shoulders, the make-up you had on simpler than last night now that there isn’t a special occasion anymore for you to attend to.

He doesn’t know how he should approach you as he trudges further, but it’s a good thing he doesn’t need to stress about it since you almost immediately look at him once he’s so close, your eyes straying elsewhere and stopping where he is before it widens and then you’re looking at Sooyoung, nudging her which makes her look at him too.

“Hey! It’s Jeongguk, right?” Sooyoung’s the one who enthusiastically greets him while you couldn’t bring yourself to flicker your gaze at him back again, your face just beginning to get entirely red because of his presence right here.

“Yeah.” He smiles politely before facing you and tilting his head. “____?”

You’re forced to look at him once he calls your name, and you smile. “Hey… Jeongguk.”

“Hi,” he repeats, grinning now that makes your stomach drop because despite your hazy memories about what exactly occurred at the bar yesterday, you can still remember how that grin right there makes your knees grow weak.

Not to mention those lips that you had the chance to kiss more than one time too.

“Hey,” you say again.

“I’ll give you two some privacy to talk,” Sooyoung pipes in before glancing at you. “Thirty minutes, alright? You still need to clean your room and pack up.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She waves at Jeongguk as goodbye and he gives her a nod, his eyes then turning back to you.

Now that you’re nowhere near drunk, you could confirm that the way you perceived him to be when you first met was totally right. He is indeed 100% dreamy—too pretty and out of your league. If you met him anywhere else, there was no way you would approach him, much less initiate a conversation like what you’ve been doing previously because there is also no way that someone like him could be interested in you, as what your head insists.

“So,” he steps closer to where you’re standing with a smirk, “my jacket?”

You’re clutching on the jacket so tightly because of how nervous you were. “Oh, yeah, here.” You hand it out to him, and he takes it. “Sorry I couldn’t wash it first, by the way. We’re leaving in less than four hours.”

“That quick?”

“Yeah.”

There’s an awkward silence that lasts roughly five seconds before Jeongguk chuckles, his stare still pretty much on you, making you break off into a breathless smile, your palms going to your face to hold your cheeks. Hundreds of scenarios already popped inside both of your thoughts earlier on how this second meeting is most likely going to go, however contrary to what you two believed, all that is left here are shy and timid smiles.

“I’m usually not this awkward, I swear,” you tell him after a few more seconds, “but I kinda embarrassed myself to you a lot so…”

“No, you didn’t.” He assures you. “You were extremely adorable, to be honest.”

“Oh, please, don’t.” You’re still holding your cheeks as you chuckle. “You’re going to make it worse for me.”

“You’re being cute right now too.”

“Jeongguk.” You whine.

He laughs, enjoying the way he’s making you flustered and his name slipping out of you again, but then his expression becomes serious as he takes a deep breath, clearly anxious as utters his following words to you. “Uh, actually, I’ve been meaning to give you something too. I didn’t just go here for my jacket, you know.”

“You’re gonna give me something?” You finally drop your hands.

“Yeah, and please, don’t cringe or make fun of it—because this is certainly the first time I’m doing it since you were so—”

“What is it?” you cut him off unintentionally, curious, and even peeking behind him where only now do you notice he keeps his hand hidden.

Jeongguk extends his arm towards you hesitantly upon the question and when you look at what he’s giving you, you see a CD. “I hope you have a CD player back at your house,” he says. “It has the, uh, you can say studio version of ‘Never Not’, as well as… other songs.”

Your jaw slightly drops before you take it from his possession, staring at it in bewilderment, blinking rapidly, just really puzzled and touched all at the same time for you didn’t think he would so such a gesture. You already think that he’s the kind of guy who’s naturally sweet and kind, but this is just icing on the cake. “You’re giving me a free copy of your songs?”

“I am.”

“But why?”

“Because I want to. You’re one of the people I want to always listen to my songs, ____.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” You frown in an endearing manner. “Wow, just—thank you for this. I… I wish I had something to give back to you.”

“Well, your number might be able to suffice.”

You laugh quickly at that, Jeongguk biting his lower lip to fight himself from doing the same because he truly was trying hard to be smooth about it.

“My number, huh? I don’t know, it’s kind of incomparable to your CD.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be just fine.”

You can’t stop yourself from grinning wide, reaching for your phone in your pocket and handing it to him, asking that he puts in his number. Jeongguk does—he wonders too if you already saw the pictures he took with you last night—and calls his phone too to make sure he knows what your number is as well before giving it back to you.

“Thanks,” you say, “I’ll make sure to text you once I listen to this back in Seoul.” You lift the CD up.

He nods, slightly rocking back and forth. “I hope you do. Or else, I might go there myself to make sure you did. It is just two hours away by train.”

“It is.”

Now you’re just staring at each other, wanting to talk more again or laugh more about the ridiculous things you did last night. There is just something about each other’s presence that the both of you find so peculiar. Is it because you’re strangers who are yet to know each other? Is it because of this undeniable connection you two have formed conversing about heartbreaks and whatnot last night?

You guess that the lattermost fact alone is reason enough why you shouldn’t be afraid and maybe just give this a shot. You did tell yourself that by leaving the reception early, you would give yourself another chance—and as the universe perhaps planned, doing that led you to see Jeongguk singing a song that knew you so well, naturally drawing you to him.

You look at your watch. “I still have twenty minutes until I have to go pack. You think you wanna tell me more about this CD?” you ask.

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows, surprised at the sudden straightforwardness from as you are now sober, but nods, another idea forming in his head. “Sure.”

You present your palm to him, and it’s reminiscent of how he did the same to you outside the restobar before bringing you inside the place, causing him to smirk and intertwine it with his without any second thoughts, letting you pull him along with you as you go towards the hotel’s café to order some coffee and talk.

Stopping by the line, Jeongguk gazes at you blatantly, both attempting to memorize every feature on your face and just admiring what he is seeing at this moment. You soon gaze back, raising your eyebrows at him, and before either of you notices the spontaneous magnetic pull of your heads towards each other, the two of you are kissing softly, just an innocent peck that drives your heart to skyrocket like last evening.

Jeongguk smirks slightly, attention on your lips still. “Too soon?”

Your cheeks heat up. “Not at all.”

With a grin, he bows down again and kisses you for the fifth time.

ending note (before editing). if you sTILL don’t know the reason why i wrote this fic, it's bc of jk posting the ‘never not’ cover on twitter 😔 so, i kinda portrayed that it was his original song in this story too. plus, regarding the title, i totally got it from the song ‘honey’ by kehlani which i am just nonstop listening to these days !!

i hope you like it as much as i loved writing this 🥺 feedback is always appreciated too !! ehehe

#btswritersnet #btsghostie #bangtanidx #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook #bts

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not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 4 years

Text

On assumptions, understanding, belonging and love.

Moments in Martin's journey understanding other people and finally himself.

Martin's journey in understanding, accepting and loving his asexuality.

a/n: some quick notes: Jon is sex repulsed, Martin is somewhere between neutral and favorable. While Tim and Sasha dont exactlty say they are aro they are! Jon is non-binary and uses he/they pronouns and i desperatly wanted to explore that but this is already twice as long than intended-

also while I am (half) Bolivian and speak spanish I am not at all fluent in Tamil so if there is any mistakes lmk! hope you all enjoy!

-------------------

Sasha had convinced them to go get drinks together, as it had been a rather stressful couple of weeks since Martin came back from the siege of his apartment by Jane Prentiss.

Sleeping in the archives was not exactly helping the situation for Martin, or Jon for that matter.

So they decided to go to a pub and try to force a sense of normality everyone really needed.

Martin was having a great time, with the relative calm and safety he hadn’t had in a while, even Jon had something like a smile playing on his lips as Tim told a story from one of his university mates that had accidentally thrown his roommate's engagement ring down a drain.

Martin zoned out for a bit, enjoying the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and his friends laughter and Jon’s animated movements that indicated that he was talking about something he actually found interesting.

Jon was apparently telling his own story with some relation to engagement, something about a girl at a wedding that had acted strangely, Martin caught something about “purposely spilling wine on her dress”, which Martin agreed was quite wierd.

“She was totally trying to woo you, Jon.” Sasha said as Jon got to the bit where they had to help her find some clean towels in a storage closet.

“I assumed she was just having a rather hard time,” Jon said, seemingly only now thinking of the implications of spilling wine on your dress and then faking needing help, to be fair to Jon that was a very weird tactic to pull and Martin would not have put two and two together either.

“Well what did you do in that closet then?” Tim asked with an incredibly over the top suggestive look.

Jon pulled a face then, Martin thought it looked rather endearing really with his nose all scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, but he was clearly uneasy.

“I don’t- I don’t really do… that sort of thing.”

Martin snapped back in the moment, feeling a weird but familiar anxiety in his stomach as the conversation lulled. He felt rather protective for a moment, instinctively knowing this seemed important. This turned out to be rather unnecessary, as Tim spoke up again quickly.

“Oh,” He and then, earnestly, ”I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jon.”

And then Jon smiled, properly, like he didn’t often and waved his hand dismissively but pleased.

“Thank you, well it's not like you could have known that, but anyway as I was saying-”

It was but a moment, but it stuck with Martin for a bit, mulling it over and not really understanding his own reaction.

Eventually Martin settled back into the pleasant buzz, enjoying his friends chatter and Jon’s over exaggerated hand gestures.

It was an uncharacteristically slow day in the archives, not a worm in sight and Martin had only a bit of boring research to do for a very clearly fake statement.

Martin usually tried to be nice about it but this one featured a guy named “Richard Dickson” and was entirely about a fever dream someone had about a haunted accordion, he had listened to the recording that Jon had emailed him and it sounded like even he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh at it.

“Who comes up with this stuff?” Sasha said as she handed him back the statement. “Sure, I know we are being attacked by a worm woman but I really hope we can draw the line at haunted accordions that play spooky renditions of High School Musical and a prophetic dream guy called Dick Dickson.”

She was laughing too and Martin thought that she looked better than she had in awhile, it was nice, seeing her like this.

“Well at least I won’t have to stay extra time for the research of this one, I would go home early but.” he shrugged and gestured in a you know the whole staying here cause of a worm woman situation, she gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well I am leaving early, got a very fun evening planned.” she said with a wink.

She had looked really rather excited and somewhat giddy all day, Martin realized.

“Oh,” Martin said, “Who is the lucky person then?”

Sasha looked at him puzzled for a few seconds, slowly blinking at him, then the penny dropped.

“What? Oh no, I mean- Tim I guess, we usually have a sort of movie night every once in a while, this one is extra special though, because I found this book about the categorisation of demons, it’s partially in latin? Tim said he would help me look into it. ”

Martin felt his face heat up, feeling the urge to profusely apologize, Sasha continued however:

“It’s not like that though,” she said with a rather annoyed look, and then somewhat softer, “I am not really a dating kind of person, you know?”

Martin wasn’t sure he fully understood what she meant, but that was fine and she was clearly still very excited, so he relaxed.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed, I do hope it’s not one of those books Jon goes on about, they aren't exactly...friendly.”

Her eyes lit up once again.

“Oh it's definitely not a Leitner! I do look out for that sort of thing, the interesting thing about the book is though-”

And she went on for a bit, the moment somewhat unimportant in a way but it still churned in Martin’s mind.

Things with Sasha...shifted after the Jane Prentiss attack, everyone had different ways to cope with trauma of course, Martin knew that.

Maybe that was the thing really, while Tim, Jon and Martin himself were having a hard time processing (even if Tim and Jon refused to properly acknowledge it) Sasha seemed fine, a few weeks of being shaken maybe and she was now back to her regular old self.

She even had a new boyfriend, Martin had no idea why that irked him so much.

He’d said as much to Tim, who was sitting next to him while both slacked off from their jobs on the stairs to the back courtyard of the institute (why there even was a courtyard was one of the great mysteries of this place).

Tim looked uncharacteristically solemn, seldom did he let his walls down like this.

“I thought I was in love with her you know,” he said rather suddenly, “I mean we’ve been friends for years now and there was- is no one I would rather spend time with, so I mean if not her then- then who?”

He sighed and Martin made comforting noise, trying not to break whatever spell had made Tim genuinely speak about his feelings.

“I mean I figured out I wasn’t in love with her before this whole...thing, we talked about it, I think? Some stuff is hazy. Just- I shouldn’t be jealous you know? She is allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Your feelings are valid no matter what they are.” Martin said seriously.

Tim sighed and leaned into Martin, who enveloped him in his arms.

“Sure, doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck though.”

And well there wasn’t much Martin could say about that.

After a bit of comfortable hugging silence Tim spoke up.

“Maybe her boyfriend is a vampire though, I totally get to be jealous about a vampire.”

“Tim don’t say that.” he said, trying to hide a smile.

“What?” Tim said, pretending to be serious, “Everything is possible Martin, worm women and all that, I could obviously not compete with a vampire and their sexy glittering skin.”

Martin shook his head, not able to contain his laughter anymore.

“Can’t believe you are exposing yourself as someone who watched Twilight.” he said.

Tim smiled wickedly up at him from where he was still half cuddled into him.

“The fact that you got that reference exposes you in turn,” he said, sticking his tongue out, “Check mate.”

“Touché.”

Then Tim stood up and said:

“Well, Time to go back to our trans containment zone.”

“The fact that we just happen to be trans and were transferred to the archives is a coincidence.”

To that Tim only answered: “Trans-ferred Martin, can’t you see? You cannot call that a coincidence.” winked and back in through the door he went.

Martin let out an exaggerated long suffering sigh.

Back inside they walked to their respective desks.

“Well lets hope work gets lets shit.” Tim said. “That’s such a low bar, and yet.”

“Paciencia y fé.” Martin said, which was in his repertoire of spanish phrases that just didn’t pack the same punch in english along with “ya pasara” and “digamos que si”.

Tim shrugged.

“Don’t think whatever grandmother made up that phrase could have imagined it being applied to our situation.”

“And yet we still have to hope for it to get better don’t we, see it works.”

Tim flashed him one last smile as he sat at his desk and Martin went to put on the kettle.

Martin had assumed Jon’s I-don’t-do-that-sort-of-thing included dating as well and it hadn’t bothered him really, he enjoyed clinging to his crush to Jon like a small steady comfort, even if he knew it wasn’t actually going to amount to anything, there was no harm in day dreaming after all and Martin was perfectly capable of caring about him as a friend too, it was harmless.

Of course the fact that he now knew Jon had been staying at his ex-girlfriends place and the fact that Jon might actually date people didn’t really change anything.

At least that is what Martin tried to tell himself as he shakily poured two cups of tea and mustered the courage to walk to Jon’s office.

And he was at least a little right, even if Jon dated people, even if Jon would return his feelings (which Martin really did not let himself dwell on), these were particularly unfavourable circumstances to start a relationship, there was the matter that neither of them was able to string together a conversation, because the mundane ones sounded so inane and hollow and the important ones required being genuine and vulnerable and they might just be somewhat allergic to that.

And there was the matter of the impending apocalypse they had to stop.

Martin knocked on the door and he heard a soft: “Come in, Martin.” from the other side of the door.

The office was a mess as always and Jon looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and had aged about ten years in the last few months.

But Martin’s breath caught in his throat anyway because, as was usual for Jon now, he also looked just a little more...comfortable, as you could anyway. They were wearing a hoodie with cats on it that was just slightly too big and a long flowy patterned skirt.

Jon clearly caught martin staring because he ran his hand through his hair a bit self-consciously and said: “I know it goes against dress code, but I think you get a pass after you get kidnapped by an evil circus.”

“Oh I mean, you look nice, I mean it looks nice on you. I didn’t mean to uhm, stare?”

“It was- I was just joking.”

“Oh.”

They just stared at each other, painful silence falling over them.

Jon broke the silence clearing their throat.

“So... you brought tea?” They said.

“Yeah, it's for you.” Martin said and immediately cringed because who else would he have brought Jon’s favorite chai exactly the way he always takes it.

Jon smiled though, reaching out to take the cup from him. Their hands brushed just a little and Martin's brain briefly shut down and he realised that maybe he should admit to himself he was really hopeless and too far gone.

That is though, how he ended up stupidly staring at Jon’s hands and how he spotted the shiny black ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

“Thats a nice ring, don’t think I have ever seen you wear jewelry before.”

That seemed to snap the tension out of the moment a little, Jon looked down at the ring and smiled a little.

“It's an ace ring,” they said, “I used to wear it a lot a while back, not sure why I fell out of the habit, but now I guess I think I am allowed whatever small comfort I can get.”

They were looking at the ring and then at Martin.

Martin wanted to freeze the image right there, at the small not quite guilty smile Jon had as he looked up at him, at the feeling that things were OK, good even just for a bit.

Then something fell off Jon's desk and they both startled, flinching at the sudden loud noise.

All the worry and tension flooded back into the room immediately.

“Right.” Jon said. “Did you need anything else?”

Martin wasn’t sure how to even answer that.

So he just shook his head and started to leave.

Just before he was about to turn around Jon called his name, Martin turned around to face Jon that seemed to be fighting for the words he wanted to say.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Thank you.”

Martin smiled a sad smile.

“Anytime.”

It’t not that Martin had never heard the word asexual before, or that he didn’t know Jon was ace, he’d just never dwelled much on the actual meaning of it.

He had however never heard of ace rings before and he gave it a google for curiosity's sake.

A black ring usually wore on the right middle finger to indicate the wearer is asexual (“ace”).

It seemed nice to Martin, small token of your connection to a community, of course his curiosity did not end there, he had assumed previously Jon didn’t do relationships at all, and if he did, what did asexual mean then?

He found out rather quickly that asexuality was about sexual attraction, and aromantic was another thing all together, he also found out that asexuality didn’t mean a person couldn't have a libido, or like sex.

And maybe he just stood there staring at his laptop screen for a while knowing that sexual attraction had never really made sense to him, maybe it felt like something clicked.

And so knowing he definitely did not have the time or the emotional energy to deal with it he quickly closed his laptop, he had an apocalypse to stop and a boss to dispose of after all.

Martin was trying very hard to read Hija de la fortuna by Isabel Allende, every other sentence he sighed and grabbed his phone to look up a word the meaning of which he didn’t know.

It was frustrating, he once had been almost fluid in spanish as a child, but then his dad had left and his mother wasn’t able to and didn’t want to maintain his fluency. He hadn’t exactly had time or money for classes either and so now he attempted to regain some of it by watching movies and reading books.

It was not just the language of course that made it hard, Martin was so entirely full of worry. It was rare he got to spend a day in his flat these days, usually cooped up in the Institute hiding from something, or at the side of Jon's hospital bed talking to him, reading to him on occasion.

The anxiety, the fear, the pain, it had festered into Martin, the tiniest sounds made him jump and even when he got tiny little moments in which he wanted to, needed to, rest he still felt like a watched prey animal, or the full force of grief threatening to crush him.

Today he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, nothing remarkable had happened in a handful of days and it made him uneasy, he was waiting for Melanie to call him about a new attack, he was waiting for Peter to summon him with a weird cryptic request.

And you would think that with all this other worry he wouldn’t be fretting about his sexuality.

But apparently there was plenty of anxiety to go around for all the areas in his life and he just couldn’t get that moment, months ago now, out of his head.

He sighed at set the book aside, grabbing his phone and opening google.

He felt like he was 14 again asking his mother what gay meant and getting only a nasty look in return, or 17 and anxiously looking for a book about being trans in the library.

It was silly to look it up and read articles about how to know you were ace, because he already knew somewhere, but he desperately needed the confirmation.

The third or so blog post he opened was about a woman in her 50’s that had recently figured out she was ace.

Its freeing the article read it’s freeing to be who you are and to understand yourself better, even if you aren’t sure, its OK, it will be OK.

Martin was only crying a little, he laid down his phone and stared at the wall.

He thought about how he had never quite fit, he wasn’t quite english, not with the people asking him where he had come from or asking his mother as a child where she had gotten him from. He wasn’t Bolivian either, he had never been there, his spanish was limited, he could only cook about three and a half recipes that the internet had taught him.

He had never been a woman and he would never fit what society thought of as a man. And what that exactly meant for his relationships.

He never understood other people, but he never thought he was bad enough to seek help for it.

Sexual attraction was vague and he didn’t get it, but in the few relationships he had had in the past he hadn’t minded sex, he enjoyed watching a nice movie together just as much but there was a nicety to it, especially taking care of someone else, having them unravel infront of you. And he had found it weird that he didn’t want anything back, that he felt uncomfortable sometimes.

He imagined he meant he was wrong, like with everything else Martin Blackwood also couldn’t do that right.

But maybe there was something here, in Martins corner of human experience, in the small stack of books about Bolivia that he read, in the trans pin on his backpack and patches he sewed onto his clothes, in calling himself gay man even if that didn’t cover the nuances because it felt good, in the chew necklace that hung around his neck because it eased his anxiety.

Just like all of those things, Martin was ace, he wasn’t wrong or broken he was just different and there were all those other people who were different too and it was nice.

And Martin was crying because of the overwhelming sense of belonging, and because he finally understood Tim when he had once asked “But what does romance even mean, Martin?” and he would never get to tell him, because this is yet another thing he and Jon could have talked about if the world had been kinder to them, this is something he could be talking about to Jon if he wasn’t in a coma.

But even in these miserable circumstances Martin made sense to himself a little more and no one could take that away from him.

The past week in the safehouse had been a whirlwind of emotions, but both Jon and Martin were trying, trying hard to heal, to learn how to feel safe again, to love each other.

For all that trying they hadn’t talked about it much, it was hard still, but Martin was quietly holding on to the hope that they would get there.

Today had been quiet, with the biggest setback being that Jon had found it hard to find all the ingredients for the sambar he wanted to make for dinner.

“I know it won't be like my Pāṭṭi (பாட்டி) taught me, but you would think they would at least have coconut.”

Martin found their grumpiness adorable, reveled in the mundaneness of this worry. And he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter when they finally had found coconut and Jon had held it up triumphantly.

The food had been delicious and now they sat on the couch, it was hard Martin craved touch so dearly but it was like stepping into hot water after standing on ice for a while and Jon flinched so often, not used to not being hurt and sometimes Martin’s unnaturally cold skin brought up unpleasant memories.

They could have wallowed in guit and yearning, but they were both stubborn, and so even if it took a while and millions of slow movements and asking if something was OK they managed.

So it was that Jon had his legs draped over Martin's lap, enough to bring comfort, not too much as to be overwhelming, and their hands were lightly on top of eachother.

Jon seemed pensive, but not worried, Martin shot him a questioning glance.

“We went at this in such a sideward way,” Jon said, “I mean we live together now but we haven’t really...talked about it. We never- we never asked?”

There was a beat of silence where Martin just looked at Jon and then a smile spread over Martin's face.

“Jonathan Sims do you want to ask me out?”

Jon averted their gaze in a way that meant even though Martin couldn’t see it they were definitely blushing.

Martin just couldn’t contain his delighted laughter.

“Must you laugh at me,” Jon said, faking offence, he was also smiling now.

A bit of seriousness returned to his voice as he spoke up again.

“I don’t care that we have done it all backwards Martin,” they said, “But, I love you.”

And as he said that Martin stared at him, mouth agape and his heart thundering in his chest, he lost his ability in any language. Jon said it firmly and securely and Martin really didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all the feelings he had, Jon continued however.

“And we don’t have to do anything but it just feels like we are dancing around several conver- Martin? Are you alright?”

It was only then Martin realised he was crying and he could only ask:

“You love me?”

Not because he didn’t know, but because sometimes you just need the confirmation.

Jon squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course I do.”

Martin wanted so badly to answer him, to reproach but he couldn’t, not yet, instead he blurted.

“May I kiss you?”

Jon smiled, a tad nervously.

“That's sort of what I wanted to talk about,” they said, “boundaries?”

Martin understood the necessity of such conversations he really did, but it did not mean he was going to enjoy them.

It did come as a surprise however that Jon suddenly got very nervous and said.

“I mean- I just- I am ace, Martin.”

Martin cokced his head in confusion and said:

“Yeah, I know.”

Jon mirrored his confused look.

“You do?” and then more sour, “You listened to the tape?”

And fine Martin admitted to himself, maybe they should talk more.

“No? You told me, like ages ago.��

Jon laughed, relieved, happy.

“Sorry,” he said, “Ironically my memory is foggy. It has been a rough couple of...years.”

Martin hummed something of affirmation, because he also knew this seemed like a nice moment to come out, and he felt the very familiar anxiety in his belly. Idiotic anxiety because Jon was also ace and there were no stakes in this situation at all.

Maybe it was just the fact that he had never said it aloud.

Martin heard himself speak:

“I think I am too,” and he could hear how stupidly nervous he sounded, “ace, I mean.”

There was a vague ringing in his ear and if he had been in the position to he might have just run out of the room, apparently facing down unknowable monsters didn’t make coming out easier.

His fear was cut down by the fact that Jon was absolutely beaming at him.

“That's great!” they said, “I mean not that I would have minded if- but it is nice to have someone understand, that's all.”

It was, it was amazing to have Jon here smiling up at him holding his hand and understanding him.

“It really is,” Martin said, then gently bringing the back of Jon’s hand to his cheek and leaning into it, “Doesn’t mean we don’t have to talk boundaries though.”

Jon smiled at the small gesture and then said serious:

“I don’t want to have sex, ever.”

Martin knew it sounded like people had tried to debate them on it before and it made his chest ache.

“I know,” he answered and then because honesty was key, “I am not adverse to it, but obviously if you don’t want to, we won’t, ever.”

Jon sat up a bit then, lifting his hand from Martins and gently cupping his cheek. Martin's pulse quickened, his hand moving almost automatically to Jon’s arm.

“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.

“It's nice,” Jon said, smiling a bit cheekily leaning forward, “So long as it isn’t tongue kissing that is.”

Martin leaned forward until their breaths mingled at their lips where all but touching.

“May I kiss you then?” He asked, breathless.

Jon could only nod and they both leaned forward the last inch.

Time must have stopped for a bit as they kissed, gentle and full of a thousand promises.

They both moved away from the kiss gently, they were both tearing up a little, Martin felt so much so strongly and he pulled away from Jon completely.

“Just need a moment.” he said and smiled at Jon's reassuringly if a bit shaky.

“Take all the time you need,” Jon said and then softer, “Anything you need.”

And Martin was sure he had never loved anyone more.

On the fourth day of their third week in Scotland Jon had gone to run some errands in town and had come back with an incredibly nervous air about him they were sitting across from Martin at the table twirling their hair and checking his pocket every once in a while.

It was making Martin incredibly antsy and by the third time Jon had looked like he wanted to say something only to then go back to the crossword he was definitely making no progress on Martin had had enough.

“Sol mio,” Martin said, very much enjoying Jon’s wide eyed flustered he always got when Martin called him pet names. “Will you please tell me what is wrong.”

Jon looked at him sheepishly.

“There is not something wrong, per se.”

Martin gave him a look.

Jon sighed and stood up, grabbing a small box from his pocket.

“Nothing is wrong I just… bought something for you beloved.”

Martin very nearly had a heart attack when Jon opened the box and there was a ring inside. Upon closer inspection it was a beautiful black ring and Martin understood.

There was silence as Martin could do no more but stare at the ring and then at Jon.

“I see how a ring might come over as a gift now,” Jon rambled nervously, “it is not like that- I mean that is something we will have to talk about. I was afraid it would be too much? It is engraved too and I just hope I didn’t-”

Martin cut him off: “Jon let me see it properly.”

Jon handed him the ring.

Martin lifted the ring out of the box and saw the engraving on it.

நான் உன்னைக் காதலிக்கிறேன். I love you. Te amo.

Martin promptly sat down again, it was so sappy, just a tad ridiculous and stupidly cute. It hurt in his chest and tears stung in his eyes.

“How did you know I wanted one?” he asked, because he didn't know what else to say.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and said:

“You were talking a few days ago, about how you would like something like a- like a token, to remind you and I thought an ace ring might be nice.”

They lifted their right hand.

“We match now.”

Martin silently moved to put the ring on, it fit perfectly. He ran his fingers over the tiny groves of the words on it.

An anchor.

A small reminder that he belonged, here in the world, here with Jon.

Martin stood up and gently enveloped Jon in a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured into Jons hair as he placed a small kiss on top of their crown. “It’s perfect.”

#jonmartin #ace!jon #ace!martin #the magnus archives #tma #magpod #trans!martin #trans!jon #the whole thing is incredibly self indulgent #magnus archives fic #ao3 link will be in rb ig #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #my writing

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