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foxymoxynoona · 2 years ago

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After the Applause (Chapter 1)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Jimin waited on the corner of the block with his hands in his pocket and a smile on his face. He looked at the bike rack to his right, designated by Sun-young as the closest he was “allowed” to get to the school. Had it hurt when she begged for that boundary? Yes. Yes, it had. But when he’d talked it over with Hanbyul, she’d admitted at that age she’d told people her dad was her grandfather because she was embarrassed by his age. He would have cried. Then she reassured him that she adored her father now and it was normal to want a little more independence at Sun-young’s age. It was a good sign. A healthy, happy, growing daughter spreading her wings. Jimin wasn’t ready for her to fly away from him yet!

As he waited for the school bell to ring, he wondered if it was really about independence or if, like Hanbyul, Sun-young had identified something in her father that embarrassed her. It couldn’t be his age, Jimin was only thirty-four which was on the young side to have a nine-year-old but not so young it raised eyebrows. He and Subin had married young and, because they’d always know they wanted children, didn’t waste any time getting pregnant. He had no regrets about any of that.

But if it wasn’t his age… was it his style? He could see the warped reflection of his outfit in the windows of cars as they drove past. He dressed stylishly because he enjoyed it, and because his job as a dancer meant different demands than the officemen who fathered most of Sun-young’s friends. He hadn’t worn a suit since the funeral. He didn’t think it could be his earrings, since Sun-young had been the one to pick these out –each a simple hoop but with a streak of red. And his blonde hair –well, Sun-young and her friends were just of the age where they were starting to notice boy idols, maybe flirting with feelings they couldn’t articulate yet and certainly weren’t telling him about, but she was begging to go see Dream Thought for her birthday and several members had, at any given time, also dyed their hair. Maybe it was too close for comfort? Jimin brushed his fingers through his hair using the reflection of a stopped car and pondered… well, maybe it was time to go dark again anyway…

The car moved and he remembered someone was inside, possibly watching him primp. He looked back to the school just as the bell rang, freeing students for the weekend. Forgetting himself, he began to move forward, then stopped short only a few steps further than the bike racks. It was unpleasant to stay like a stone in place as the bubbling brook of students moved around him down the sidewalk. It made him think of Sun-young’s early school days, when she’d sprint out the front doors of the school towards him, sparkly pink backpack bouncing, more than half the size of her body. She’d throw her arms around his neck and he’d scoop her up and take Subin’s hand and they’d walk home together to hear about her day over snacks before he had to go to work.

There was no sprinting towards him now. Jimin spotted Sun-young the moment she came out of the school, able to recognize the motion of her walk even before he could see her face. She had braided her own hair that morning and not done a good job of it, which might explain why her hair was down now –Jimin had wanted to help but she’d refused, saying she was old enough to braid her own hair. Was he going to fight with her over braids? Pick your battles, his mother kept telling him. It’ll only get worse. Great.

“Sunnie!” he called as she got closer, because he wasn’t sure she’d noticed him yet. She had her head down now, talking to her two friends they walked home as a favor every day. “Sunnie! Over here!”

“Appa, quiet!” she finally yelled, and pressed her hands to the sides of her face. He laughed. Was she really already being like this? At nine? It was like something out of a movie. It had to be a joke.

“Fair princess, I have waited at the perimeter as you requested,” he greeted as she and her friends got closer. He held his arms out in order to bow, but accidentally smacked another kid in the head. “Oh, hey, sorry, you ok?”

“Appa!”

“Young ladies,” he beamed, motioning them close. “I have come to escort you home. If you can walk this way please.” Ginam and Boyeon both looked at him with smiles and giggles but Sun-young sighed loudly. Jimin turned and clapped his hands to his sides and did a little bit of a waddle. When he looked over his shoulder, Ginam and Boyeon were still giggling and Sun-young looked like she wanted to murder him.

“Come on, Sunnie, it’s just a little joke,” he said, reaching to try and hug her. “How was school? Anything exciting happen?”

“It’s not funny though…” Sun-young mumbled.

Ginam looked between the other two girls before saying, “You’re really funny, Mr. Park.” Jimin couldn’t decide whether she meant that or not. A year ago, he would have known for sure she was sincere. Sunnie’s friends had always loved him! Fourth grade really changed you, huh?

With a sigh, he herded them along and tried not to be hurt when the girls walked together several yards ahead of him. It made him nervous on the busy streets, and he’d jog to catch up as they came to crosswalks. At one point he had to grab onto Sun-young’s backpack as she started to cross without him.

“Again with the murderous glare,” he complained. “Why are you looking at your appa like that?”

“Why did you grab me? We’re just crossing the street!”

“Yeah and did you look both ways?”

“It’s the cross signal!”

“Wa, don’t trust that! You have to look both ways before you cross, always!”

Ginam got dropped off first, waving goodbye and darting down a side street. Boyeon lived on the first floor of their building.

“She’s such a nice friend,” Jimin said of her as they waved goodbye and stepped onto the elevator.

“Appa, you didn’t have to embarrass me!”

“I did?” Jimin asked, arching his eyebrow. “Me? Impossible. What did I do that was embarrassing?”

“You just acted like… that!” she said, gesturing with flappy, frustrated hands.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, can’t you just be a calm normal appa?” she cried.

“Ah… I really don’t think so,” he admitted, teasing. She did not appreciate it. The door opened on their floor and she stomped ahead. It felt like just yesterday she’d done that with light-up shoes but she’d begged him for a pair of red Keds last time. They looked both cute and painfully grownup with her school uniform. Teenage. She wasn’t supposed to look like she was trying to be a teenager yet! He refused the classification of pre-teen yet. It was all happening too fast.

The door to his right jostled as he followed Sun-young down the hall, and he stopped as it swung open.

“My love!” he cried as Hanbyul stepped out, then dropped to his knees so Hudu could jump up and lick his face. “There’s my boy. There’s my boy!”

“Appaaaa, let me in– oh, hi Hanbyul-ssi!” Sun-young interrupted, instantly a different child. She too sank down to give Hudu scratches.

“I’m glad I ran into you both. I made too much jjapaguri. Can I give you some for dinner?”

Jimin’s smile grew as he stood, sighing, “Ahhh, Hanbyul, you’re too kind to us. Can you eat it with us?”

“You’re not working tonight?”

“Not tonight. No classes on Mondays.”

“Right, I knew that. But I don’t want to intrude on your day off–”

“That’s funny. See? She’s funny too,” Jimin said to Sun-young. He assured Hanbyul, “You never intrude. Come over to eat the food you made with us. Maybe I have something I can add…”

“She’s a lot funnier than you are, Appa, but I don’t think that was a joke. You can come to dinner though, Hanbyul-ssi.” She said it so graciously, as if Sun-young was the true head of household. He narrowed his eyes at his daughter and she pretended not to see.

“Then I’ll be there. See you at six.”

“I’ll make a salad!” Jimin offered before handing Sun-young the apartment key so she could run ahead, scratching Hudu’s head one more time. Doing his best to ignore the sting of Sun-young being so much happier to see their neighbor than himself. Just because Hanbyul was a little younger and liked the same idol groups and they liked to paint their nails together while they watched filmed performances… so? He could watch idol groups! He could paint his nails! Hadn’t he used to do that with Sunnie and Subin all the time?

***

There were two types of dinner to be had in the Park apartment. Dinners with just Jimin and Sun-young featured simpler fare, and questions that went unanswered about school days, and one-sided monologues about things coming up –Sunnie’s dance recitals, Jimin’s performances, rehearsals, children��s day at the park that Sun-young thought she was too old for now, seasonal fruit now available at the grocery. The dinner was never great because Jimin had never mastered the culinary arts. And short; Sun-young ate as quickly as she could to be excused.

Dinners with Hanbyul were different in every way.

“The food is so good,” Sunnie praised, sitting on her knees as if she couldn’t get close enough to her plate. Her second plate. And she had a big smile on her face the whole time. Hanbyul barely voiced a thank you in the space between the thanks and Sunnie continuing, “So they did a show and Danmi said her eomma and appa are taking her to the next one and she didn’t tell them this because she wants to go because she thinks that Taejoon is probably like her soulmate or something. They have the same birthday.”

“Oh is that what causes that?” Jimin asked. But Sunnie wasn’t looking at him at all; if anything, she seemed annoyed by the reminder he was there, and he tried not to let that break his heart and just enjoy basking in the cast-off glow from Sunnie’s smile in Hanbyul’s direction.

“Tomi wanted to be Danmi’s girlfriend and he gave her a flower but she said no one can be her boyfriend because–”

“Because Taejoon is her soulmate,” Hanbyul nodded. Sunnie looked relieved Hanbyul understood.

“Do you like Tomi?” Jimin asked. He knew who Tomi was. Foreign exchange student. Kind of a little shit but his parents seemed weird so it probably wasn’t his fault.

Sunnie’s face crinkled up in disgust as she huffed, “I’m nine, Appa. I don’t have time for boys and you shouldn’t ask a question like that. Maybe boys like me but I don’t like them.”

“What boys like you?!”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Hanbyul grinned, leaning closer like they had some secrets from Jimin. Because he had never been a little girl, but Hanbyul had. Sunnie should have someone who could talk to her about little girl things, and the bigger girl things that lay in her future. And that someone should have been her mom. Looking at Sunnie roll her eyes and reassure Hanbyul how annoying the boys were and that she wanted to go to a concert too but Appa didn’t like the same music she did, he felt again that ache of absence.

“I do,” Jimin insisted, pushing past that shadow before it dragged at him. “I’ll take you. Who do you want to see?”

“Name one member of Mango Crush.”

Shit, was that a boy group or a girl group? The name wasn’t familiar to him… He knew lots of the other groups… He watched the good ones dance… He’d worked with debuting groups before!

“I heard your appa singing ‘Five Minutes to Sundown’ when he took out the trash the other day,” Hanbyul told Sunnie in a whisper. A clue! He hummed the melody, recognizing the name of the song, and then that it was a girl group.

“Yeah, I can take you to see them. Uh… I’ll find out when they’re in town! We could go for your birthday or something..”

“My birthday?” Sunnie sighed.

“Tickets are expensive and– we’ll talk about it later. Let me see what I can do. You know I’ve worked with some of the choreographers.” Now his grin grew, “Yeah, I bet I can get us tickets! So you’re interested in that kind of thing?” Being an idol? He didn’t want to suggest it. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Obviously he would want to support her in whatever she did, but the idol industry was even more toxic than the dance industry and he was already worrying more by the week about how he was going to protect her from that…

“Uh, everyone likes idols, Appa, that’s why they’re called idols –Oh make sure you get more tickets so Hanbyul-ssi can go with us too! And maybe my friends from school, ok?” She rattled off telling Hanbyul more about her school friends and Jimin tried to keep up because he knew about these other kids but not as much as what Sunnie poured at Hanbyul’s feet. Despite never stopping the chatter, she also managed to clear her plate again.

“I have a lot of homework to do,” Sunnie admitted mid-thought. “I guess I’d better get started.”

“You don’t have to rush away. It’s family dinner,” Jimin said. He meant it as a joke, sort of, just a little teasing nudge because it was so rare that Sunnie sat for a full meal with him. He didn’t mind that she was a little snappish with him sometimes. She was nine. She was busy. He knew she didn’t get as much of his attention lately as she deserved but… he’d do better! He’d find a way to be there more for her at this crucial time… but the problem was, it was always a crucial time and this would have been so much easier with her mother still here–

“Thanks for feeding me,” Sunnie said, throwing her arms around Hanbyul’s shoulders. “I’m wasting away! I’ll never get breasts this way…”

“That’s– what– you’re nine–” Jimin spluttered out. Sunnie just laughed and practically skipped away, cheerful to do her homework and maybe at the possibility he’d actually take her to see an idol show.

A comfortable moment of silence settled around the dinner table. Jimin had finished as well but wasn’t in any rush to hurry Hanbyul, who had eaten only slowly while listening to everything Sun-young had to tell her. He appreciated that patience. Not everyone –his own parents among them– could handle the onslaught that was his excitable daughter. He loved it, of course, and her. He didn’t always know what she was talking about, but he appreciated when she did, and he appreciated that Hanbyul was one of those women who had held on to her empathy for small, over-eager, somewhat aloof, kind of bossy but really golden-hearted little girls.

“She’s so great,” Hanbyul sighed, as if she’d read Jimin’s own mind.

“She’s better when you’re around,” Jimin mused, lifting his glass of wine. “Happier, I mean. She is great. Hey, you don’t think she’s hiding something about a boy, do you?”

Hanbyul arched her eyebrow and pressed, “Why would I know that?”

“I don’t know, can’t you just tell? I don’t remember what age girls noticed boys… I mean, no one noticed me until…” He grimaced rather than putting an age down, to make her laugh, and it worked.

“I doubt that.”

“I’m serious! I was a virgin until college. You didn’t expect that, huh?” he teased.

“I didn’t.”

“Because you didn’t see what I was like when I was younger. Puberty was hard for me. Late bloomer or whatever. I don’t know the first thing about being a girl going through puberty…”

“You’ve got a few years before you really have to worry,” Hanbyul assured him. “Not that you need to worry! But I just mean… well, twelve is a tough age. If you can get through twelve…”

“If!” he repeated with a laugh, and slapped his hand to his face.

“You’ll make it through!”

“Maybe as long as we’re still living next to you and you’ll still come over for dinner,” he lamented. “I don’t mean to be creepy about the boy thing. I don’t want to make her grow up too early or anything. Maybe she’ll like girls, that’s fine too! It’s just hard to figure out what’s the right information and the right time and the right place to be nosy. I don’t want her to feel like she can’t talk to me about things, but if I say too much or don’t say enough… you know?”

Hanbyul considered this with that careful way she always had, then offered with a smile, “I think you’ll find your way with her just fine, Jimin. She’s a good girl and she knows you love her.”

“I’m getting on her nerves lately,” he admitted with a sigh, knowing Hanbyul wouldn’t judge him for it. She never judged, not when he’d knocked on her door in the middle of the night with Sun-young in his arms because she was running a fever and he, recently widowed, had forgotten everything he ever learned about taking care of a sick child; or when he’d set his kitchen on fire trying to make a birthday cake for Sunnie because it was what her mom used to do every year; or when he’d burst into tears at her bringing over a package that had been misdelivered to her, because the dentist said Sun-young had two cavities that needed filling and he saw this as proof he was the worst parent in the history of the world and Sunnie was doomed (the package had nothing to do with that.) Doomed to a lifetime of bad teeth and store-bought cakes and getting dragged to the doctor over the slightest illness because Jimin didn’t trust anything anymore. One day you could be healthy and the next day you were–

“It’s not you,” Hanbyul assured him. “She’s a wise soul. She’s just figuring things out for herself. The social life of fourth grade is hard!”

“Yeah… yeah, I had wondered if maybe she kind of pulled away from me in school because I’m all around her at dance.”

Hanbyul considered this again, always careful in her speech. “That could be true. You’re such a big force in the dance world. Those are big shoes to fill. Er… slippers? I don’t know what dance shoes are called.”

“Dance shoes is fine,” he winked. “But I meant more because– well, yeah, that, but it’s given her a leg up. She’s better than her peers. There’s a reason why she has the solo in the festival performance next month. She’s so good and it makes things difficult –some of the other kids her age are jealous of her skill. I thought maybe she was wanting me to back off so she could handle things on her own with them…”

“Do you intervene a lot?” Hanbyul asked. “What are you seeing?”

“I don’t know… well, she doesn’t really have many friends at dance anymore. Her best friend there split off to a different style, and she had a couple little friends in the same class but they seem to have sort of broken off too… I don’t really know who her closest friends are anymore. When I observe her dance classes, she seems kind of alone the whole time.”

“What do you do then?” Hanbyul asked. She propped her chin in her hand.Talking to her always gave Jimin such comfort. She was cautious and slow to ever give advice, but Hanbyul was the one glimpse into the mind of a young girl he could rely on, and she was a good friend, and so non-judgmental. Sometimes talking to her was like talking to himself but with more of a brain. He appreciated her presence so much but he did worry that she did more for them than he did for her, dumping his problems on her like this. But he couldn’t help himself, her insight was so valuable.

Now he was eager to get this over with and ask about whatever she had going on instead, so he waved his hand, “I don’t know. I’ll make them all sit together or partner up and I split up the cliques. That kind of thing. Nothing too intrusive! But maybe it’s not helping…”

“Have you asked her?”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” he sighed. “This…” He gestured at the table. “She doesn’t talk to me the way she talks to you anymore. Maybe I make her feel like she can’t…”

“All you can do is try,” Hanbyul offered sagely. “Sometimes young women have to work things out on their own.”

“I think she’s still a little too young for that… but… I’ll keep that in mind. But enough about my woeful single dad life– how did that meeting with the execs at work go?”

He could see the disappointment flash across her face, enough of an answer, but she still lifted her wine glass and admitted, “Oh, I don’t know. I got edged out. I didn’t get to go.”

“What? But you built the slides!”

“Yeah and apparently I built them so well they didn't think I needed to be there to present them.” She allowed a shallow sigh and an equally shallow smile, like she didn’t really want to talk about it. “It’s fine. There will be other opportunities.”

“But they keep taking those opportunities from you– I don’t think it’s a good place to work, Hanbyul. They don’t appreciate you there. You’re the glue that keeps that place running.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “If you don’t have glue, you can use something else. Tape. Rubber cement.”

“Oh my god I haven’t thought of rubber cement in… wow. I was class president when I was younger–”

“I know,” she said, then blushed and looked down and laughed. “Sorry! I remember…”

“Oh no, do I brag about that?! God that’s so lame,” he cried, covering his face. “My glory days as class president… I really peaked back then…”

“No! That’s not true!”

“Let’s ask Sunnie, I know what she��ll say!”

“What’s cool now wasn’t the same as when we were kids. Sunnie is intelligent and cool. She’s really a wonderful girl.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I bet she never stole a bottle of rubber cement…”

Hanbyul’s laughter was such a joyful sound echoing around the table. Jimin found his heart and shoulders relax even further. Even though he was talking about things that stressed him out, he could always catch his breath when Hanbyul was around. Maybe if things had been different…

“What did you do with the rubber cement?” she asked. “Park Jimin, a delinquent! I never imagined it!”

“No, this makes me sound so deranged… nothing sinister, I swear.”

“Just tell me!”

“I kept it in my desk and I’d just take a little bit and roll it around in my hands if I was having a hard time staying awake in class.”

“Gross,” Hanbyul giggled. “Why were you so tired?” She propped her chin in her hand again, like the mundane facts of his life were actually at all interesting. He came from normal people, had a normal childhood, predictable, pleasant, smooth sailing. His troubles as a child seemed so mild from this side of actual tragedy.

“I’d wake up early to help with my Grandmother’s rice cake shop,” he explained. “My parents worked there too. When I was young, I helped her in the kitchen and building the displays. When I got a little older, I’d run deliveries.”

“Oh right I forgot your family had that shop. It’s not still open though?”

“It is. My parents still run it with my older brother. Have I never brought you anything from it?”

“No. Are you tired of rice cakes?”

He smiled, “No, they make me homesick. I’m very picky about them! If I go into a shop and I know I can make a better one… well, so many are just factory made these days. It’s hard for the little shops to stay afloat.”

“But your family does all right?”

“They do all right,” he nodded. It was a simple statement. They had begged him to come home with Sun-young after Subin passed and for a heartbeat he’d almost done it. He didn’t see how he could do this on his own. But the idea of leaving this place that he and Subin had chosen together to raise their daughter, where the local parks and the market and movie theater still held the ghost of his marriage with her, where their favorite restaurant –the one he’d proposed in– was still open for business –he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave the dance troupe he’d toiled and sweat so hard to build and gather funding for. He couldn’t tear Sun-young away from her friends when she’d already lost her world.

So they’d stayed. Even in the same apartment, where he could sometimes close his eyes and listen for Subin’s key in the door. Pretend she was just working late and would be home in a bit.

“I mean they wanted us to come home but– It was hard to leave in the first place. It’s hard to be away from them. But Sunnie and I have a life here.”

“It’s lonely so far from family, I think. I understand why they wanted you home. But I’m glad you felt like you could stay here.”

“Thanks to friends like you,” Jimin smiled at her. “I told my mom about that kimchi you made! Ah, next time I go home, I’ll bring you rice cakes from the shop, and when my parents come here, maybe I’ll share the jar you gave me.”

“I have more jars!” she told him, sitting higher.

“They’ll come for Sun-young’s performance.”

“I can give you a jar for them.”

“No no, not a whole jar–”

“Yes! My mother tells me all the time that the younger generations aren’t learning things like how to make kimchi.”

Jimin nodded, “Yeah, or rice cakes!”

“So I can share some comfort. I think my kimchi was all right.”

“It was more than all right. It was perfect, really! Best kimchi I’ve ever had. Don’t tell my mom. Well, I already told her but… just don’t gloat.”

Hanbyul looked pleased, her whole round face flushing a sweet shade of pink, her cheeks balling up so high, as if her smile swallowed her whole face.

“I won’t,” she assured him, but of course he wasn’t worried about that. Probably Hanbyul had never gloated about anything in her life, and she should. She should gloat about work, she should gloat about her cooking, she should gloat about how healthy the African violets she grew in her windowsill looked. She was so capable, so on point, when Jimin felt taped together and messy by comparison. What must she think when she came over for evenings like this and this single father constantly stealing her time and attention and food dumped more worries on her. She shared her home-cooked food and all he had to offer her in return were complaints and the gossip of a fourth grader.

The wave of guilt prickled across his shoulders and up his scalp, that same voice that whispered to him sometimes in the low moments and the high moments alike: you are alone now; don’t make your aloneness someone else’s problem. He did. Repeatedly. He’d had to lean on others around him for so long… maybe he should have taken Sun-young home to grow up with his family, where at least there was a blood-bond to support the burden he’d placed on those around him to keep him afloat when he’d felt the world drop away from him.

“Jimin.” She called his name so softly he thought he’d imagined it, but quickly turned his gaze to her, embarrassed to have slipped away. “You’re working so hard lately. Would it be helpful if I sat with Sun-young for an evening so you have a break? Or an afternoon?”

“Oh, no, no, you don’t have to do that,” he told her. “Er. Again.”

She smiled warmly and nodded, “It’s really not a big favor. You know I adore her. If you think she’s stressed about her performance, maybe I could take her on a… a girl’s afternoon to help take her mind off of things?”

“Of course you offered that, you’re the kindest– you’re too nice to us, Hanbyul. You do too much for us. I already take up so much of your time!”

“No, don’t think like that. You don’t have to decide right now if you want to talk to Sun-young about it but I mean it. I can’t imagine how hard it is doing this on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” he insisted. “I have people like you. I rely on too much! Like now, I’m keeping you here for your whole evening. I need to go see if she’s actually doing her homework.” He didn’t know the graceful way to set her free. Just like he never knew quite how to thank her for her patience, for her support, for her presence. Hanbyul was the sort of person who gave and gave and never asked a thing in return which made it hard to feel like you thanked them properly.

Even now, she was so graceful in accepting his fumbled thanks, in insisting he keep the last of the dish, in going to say goodnight to Sun-young before she left. Hudu deigned to rise from where he’d spent the meal stretched across Jimin’s feet, yawning and slow as he walked to the door. He knew the routine. He didn’t seem to particularly care whether he was here or in Hanbyul’s apartment. Hudu was such a good dog. Maybe Sun-young would be happy with a– no, no, they couldn’t get a dog. Even a cat seemed like more than Jimin could handle right now.

“A girl’s afternoon!” Hanbyul sighed dramatically to Hudu as soon as they were back in her apartment. She let herself fall face first on the couch. Hudu came over to press his cold nose to her arm, but when she turned her face, he wandered off, bored if she wasn’t actually in crisis.

Well, she was in a crisis, just not a medical one.

“A girl’s afternoon,” she sighed again, and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. It was a slip. She wasn’t surprised Jimin had basically kicked her out right after. Jimin, the beautiful, kind, funny man next door, with the smile of a god and the grace of a dancer because he was one, and the most soulful brown eyes Hanbyul had ever seen. Jimin, the loving, doting, adoring father, with the absolute sweetest, funniest, most wonderful little girl who was growing up so fast right before Hanbyul’s eyes but just out of reach of all the attention and love Hanbyul wished she had the right to shower on the girl. Jimin, the romantic, devoted, lovesick husband to a very dead wife.

Hanbyul felt that shivery sick feeling she always did when thoughts of Ga Subin arose. Which was often, because it was often for Jimin. She could always see the flicker of grief on his face when it happened. Less often now, less often with each passing year, but frequently enough that Hanbyul did everything she could not to accidentally cause it. It was challenging, it had taken her years to build up the list of things not to mention: wives, marriage, couples, love, college, Valentine’s Day or White Day, anniversaries of any kind, illness, unexpected occurrences, surprises, baking, etc. And sometimes there were things she never would predict could call up those memories that caused him such obvious and immediate pain, probably driving in some sharp blade or a private thing he’d had with his wife, like rainy days, stacks of laundry, and seagulls.

She couldn’t imagine the loss. She couldn’t. To fall in love and marry and have a child and expect you have a whole life together only to have your other half suddenly sliced away like that… She’d cried on Jimin’s behalf. If that was crazy, so be it, but it was tragic. Heartbreaking. Jimin was such a wonderful man and he deserved never to have gone through that sort of loss. She supposed there was some comfort that at least he had Sun-young, but the poor girl too had not deserved to lose her mother who must have loved her fiercely. Hanbyul had cried for her too, and at the fear of losing her own mother, whom she loved and who had supported her through everything in life, big and small, to date. What would she have done in middle school or high school or college if she couldn’t call her mother at any time, just to hear the voice of the woman who loved her? Or ask advice? Her mother had taught her to make the kimchi Jimin and Sun-young enjoyed so much, and had given her a vase as a housewarming gift when she got her own place “so you’ll have something for the flowers men will bring you,” and when no men were bringing her flowers, her mother regularly sent her some on her own. Sun-young deserved a long life with her mother never further than a phone call away.

And, whether it made her creepy or not, Sun-young had shed tears for Ga Subin too. Whether there was a heaven from which the late wife and mother watched her family try to get on without her or not, there was no doubt that she had loved her husband and daughter and been cruelly denied the lifetime with them she deserved. Hanbyul had only known the family in passing before shock and grief left Jimin vulnerable to asking her for occasional help, but she’d always thought they seemed like such a bright, sunny, loving family. Ga Subin had built her marriage with Jimin and brought such a perfect daughter into the world and she didn’t even get to enjoy them for her whole life. There were no promises in life. What a terrifying reminder.

“I fed you before we went to the Parks,” Hanbyul scolded as Hudu whined and crouched down beside the couch. Hudu rolled onto his back and wiggled; he didn’t want food at all, just attention. Of course he was bored and lonely as soon as they came home and he had only her as company. Jimin and Sun-young adored Hudu. Of course he’d rather be over there. She would too!

Still grumbling, she pushed up from the couch and shuffled to the kitchen to dig the treats out of the cabinet beside the fridge. Hudu’s treats were stored beside a bag of butterscotch candies, so she took one for herself too, a little treat to ease her past another day of disappointment.

No, not disappointment. Joy at getting to spend an evening basking in the presence of Jimin and Sun-young. Gratefulness that rent had not gone up too much for her to continue living here next to them all these years –though it had gone up, and not for the first time, she briefly began to calculate how much money she could have saved by moving somewhere more affordable– no, how much money she had spent for the privilege of living next door. They needed her, she always reasoned. Jimin had a daughter and no local family. What did the money matter when it came to being a good friend? Because they were friends. Of course they were friends, after all this time.

She crunched on the candy mindlessly, deciding not to calculate the money. It didn’t matter. It was gone and she wouldn’t have done things differently anyway, no matter how many times her mother sighed when she admitted that no, she didn’t have someone to bring to family dinner; no matter how many times her sister sighed when she admitted that no, she had not confessed her feelings to Jimin. Why would she do that? She already knew Jimin’s answer. He was a soulmate kind of guy, and he’d already found his. Hanbyul wouldn’t mind playing second, but Jimin wasn’t looking for a second.

“Shit,” she hissed as she chomped down on her tongue. She was chewing too aggressively. She breathed out sharply through her nose and looked down at Hudu tossing his treat happily around, fetching it, tossing it again.

“TV or walk?” she asked, hoping Hudu would make the decision for her. Usually at ‘walk’ he’d go crazy but now he gave her a wild look, like he wasn’t sure if she was serious. But the treat wound up winning and he continued to toss it around, so Hanbyul went to find something to distract her from the patheticness of her own life.

“Appa, what’s a catalyst?”

A simple question, posed by a studious daughter as she did her homework at the kitchen table Sunday night while Jimin did his best to make ahead lunches for the week alongside dinner. A science question, probably. Sunyoung hunched over the trio of tablet, textbook, and worksheet with a shocking focus for a girl who’d barely been able to keep her wiggly butt in the chair for lunch at her grandparents’ earlier. Jimin could read it on their faces: they worried he was raising her to be rude. She would have turned out better under the guidance of their daughter. He was sure that was what they were thinking.

“A catalyst is…. Something that makes something happen,” he answered, pulling the definition from the steamy air flushing his face. It was one of those things it was easier to think of examples of than a useful definition.

“Like what?”

“Uh… milk? No. Baking soda? Heat.”

Sunyoung sighed, “You don’t actually know, do you?”

“That’s the answer! If you’re so smart, you look it up,” he scoffed. She was smiling though, laughing at her dumb dad, and it made him grin too. A catalyst is this question, which caused a positive reaction between the two of us, he thought to himself as he listened to her laboriously type it into the tablet and then read out the dictionary definition.

“A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change,” she said. “Or a person or thing that precipitates an event. What’s precipitate?”

“Aren’t you on a dictionary app right now?”

“Oh, you don’t know…”

“I know!” he spluttered, playing into it because her smile lit up his world. He heard the tap-tap of her fingers against the screen as he flipped the dumplings. He always burned them a little no matter how hard he tried, afraid of undercooking them and poisoning his daughter. Hanbyul knew just the right length of time somehow; he ought to ask her what the magic number of minutes was…

“Precicipate,” Sunnie read. “To cause an event or situation, typically one that is bad or undesirable, to happen suddenly, unexpectedly, or prematurely.”

Jimin froze.

How wonderful that Sunnie had such a young, fresh, beautiful mind so very different than his own aged, battered one. It didn’t leap to the conclusions that his had learned to make over time. It didn’t draw the same lines that seemed so obvious to him. Her mind was still learning how the world connected, soaking up language and culture and history and science like a gasping sponge, learning how to draw the constellations of thought and feeling inside of herself. These would become the way she navigated the world as she grew, some things baked in her since the moment she was born and others learned over time by the environment and people JImin let around her.

So when Sunnie hard the words bad, undesirable, suddenly, unexpected, prematurely, she just continued on. She didn’t have alarms for those words. No strings were tugged because they were abstracted here, read in her little voice from a sterile dictionary app on her school tablet.

But Jimin's brain leapt right to it: Subin. To a sudden fall at work that precipitated a concussion that precipitated one doctor who wanted to look a little further into symptoms possibly connected to the fall that precipitated the discovery of late stage ovarian cancer that precipitated the second hardest four months of Jimin’s life that precipitated the hardest years of Jimin’s life. Or maybe that was reversed. Had watching her quick and brutal fight with cancer been better than the After because he had her or worse because every day was an agonized victory for her. She had suddenly been sick, so so so sick, and then she no longer hurt anymore but Jimin was left in shambles to rearrange the shattered pieces of his life into a new one with Sun-young and without his best friend who had been the glue of their family all along.

“Appa, the dumplings are burning,” Sunnie calmly pointed out. Completely oblivious to the brief hurricane Jimin had endured in his mind. He sprang into action, yanked the pan off the stove, dumping the crispy dumplings on a plate, flinging some oil onto his hand in the process. “You should just steam them,” Sunnie suggested as he cursed and shoved his hand under a cold stream of water in the sink.

“But you prefer them panfried.”

“I prefer them not burned,” she grumbled. Sassy. A butt. A rude thing to say, especially when her father had just slingshotted through the stages of grief again –albeit a duller, more distant version than the raw cycle that had kicked off with Subin’s death three years ago. Time did that, nothing else. Time in which he discovered time and time again that he didn’t stop breathing no matter how hard the pain clenched him, that he could keep moving blindly forward because he had to for his daughter, and that no amount of tears, rage, guilt, or begging gave him another day with Subin. She was gone. It was a fact. Maybe she wouldn’t have been gone if they’d found the cancer earlier, or maybe she would have had more time, or maybe nothing would have really changed at all except that they would have known the ending was coming earlier. Was that better?

Jimin thought it was better. He would rather have known. He would have held her closer. He would have appreciated her more. He wouldn’t have taken for granted that he and Subin had a lifetime to be together. He would have spent less time arguing, and more time giving her whatever she wanted –although what she had wanted was more children. He would have given in earlier, and given her that, and yet it would be more children living without their mother, more children he did his best to raise without the parent for whom parenting had seemed so easy and natural–

“Did you get burned bad?” Sun-young asked, coming over to see now because he’d been still for so long. He took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth, willing away the familiar feelings. Grief was an old companion now, a shadow in the corner that sometimes rose to poke him and sometimes let him be but was never quite gone. Sunnie might have to live without a mother, but Jimin was not sure how he could have made it through the loss of his wife without such a perfect daughter to carry her light forward.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. And impulsively pulled her close and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

She wrinkled her nose at the kiss before suggesting, “I’ll get the burn gel.”

“It’s…” He trailed off before insisting it wasn’t that bad. Ok, he’d accept some caretaking from his daughter. Sun-young showing concern over him was welcome, especially right now when he could use a little extra comfort. So he protected his hand as he plated the dumplings and noodle dish and carried them to the table in the time it took her to fetch the bottle of burn soothing gel from beneath the sink upstairs.

“Just don’t eat the burned side,” he suggested when she frowned at the blackened bits.

Instead of commenting, she shook her head and offered, “I’ll squirt it on. Where are you burned?”

It was only a few small spots along the side of his hand and wrist, but he watched her unblinking concentration as she carefully squeezed dollops out on each spot, peering from every angle to make sure she got them.

“Are you going to be a doctor?” he teased –something she had never expressed the faintest interest in. Just as quickly, he regretted it. Medicine and doctors were forbidden references. She might not fall to pieces over the definition of “precipitate” but there were still trauma lines etched into his daughter’s brain and watching her mother sink away in a hospital, surrounded by doctors and medicine that couldn’t save her, was a deep one. “Sorry, I meant–”

Sun-young frowned, as expected, and assured him, “No. I hate doctors.”

“Sorry, we’ll talk about something else– hey, did you give any more thought to whether you want to try out for that duet? I can learn the choreo to help you rehearse if you want to audition for it,” he suggested. She already had the solo, and a couple ensemble performances, but the duet would be another opportunity for her to shine, he had no doubt she’d get if she wanted it. And not because of his ties to the school, but because she was a fantastic dancer on her own.

“I already have a solo,” she argued. “Another girl should get the duet.”

“Oh. Are you sure? You’ve been doing really well with the choreography and there are plenty of opportunities for other dancers to be on stage.”

“Yeah but I already have a solo.”

“So you aren’t going to even try for it?” Ah, Jimin understood. “I’m not the one who makes the call; if you got it, it would be because of your own dance merit–”

Sun-young actually rolled her eyes as she chewed around the burned part of her dumpling. For a moment he had a teenager and he did not like it.

“I’m already doing a lot, Appa. I don’t want to do so much I fall behind on my grades.”

“Ah… but you can do both… your grades are top of the class–”

“Most of the classes,” she mumbled and flinched.

Jimin waved his hand, “Look, science was never the strength of anyone in our family, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“But you got good grades in everything.”

“And now I don’t use any of it as an adult,” he countered. He felt like it was a very good dad-thing not to pressure Sun-young about her grades. Sometimes she had poor test scores or incomplete homework, but honestly, she was doing a lot, and he thought she’d handled losing her mother very well, and grades weren’t literally life and death like he’d thought they were when he was in school, so who fucking cared?

“But maybe if you remembered it, you could help me with my homework more!” she pointed out.

“Ah,” he grinned. “Shit.” She giggled and his smile grew. “But I help you out with your dance! That’s more important for a dancer anyway. You don’t need science or history or math or–”

“Appa, that’s sexist.”

“Sexist! What do you know about sexist?” he demanded and she laughed too, clearly pleased with his mock outrage. It felt good, it felt so fucking good to be laughing with her again when she’d had so little time for him lately. He felt himself walking back the hopelessness he’d expressed to Hanbyul. Ok, things were ok with Sunnie.

He noticed immediately the change in her demeanor as she shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s kind of interesting.”

“What is?”

“Catalysts and stuff.”

“Why are you even learning that? I thought in fourth grade you just learn about like… magnets. And animals. And plate tectonics.”

“Yeah this is an extra thing…”

“An extra thing?” he asked, head tilting. “Extra credit.”

“Yeah. You know, to get my grades up…”

“Well don’t worry too much about it. You don’t need to take on a lot of extra stuff, ok? Like I said, your grades will be fine. No one will remember what you did in fourth grade science in a few years.”

“Tomorrow Ms. Kwan is doing a science experiment for anyone who stays after the bell,” Sunnie told him, as if she hadn’t heard what he just said. “That’s what this is for.”

“After the last bell?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, well, don’t be late meeting me, we have to get to your dance class.”

“Oh. Yeah…” She looked down at the paper again and looked genuinely unhappy.

“Well… I guess if it’s for extra credit, you could be a couple minutes late. But just this once, ok? We can’t make a regular habit of being late. It’ll look bad.”

Sunnie’s smile lit up again, “Ok yeah, thanks, Appa. I just want to see the catalyst.” Ah, he’d give anything to earn that smile from her all the time. He pulled her plate closer and began cutting the burnt bits off her dumplings.

He decided to push his luck and asked, “Hey, what about after we eat, we can watch something together?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“The Ariana Grande documentary?” she asked, eyes going wide. “It’s on Netflix!”

“We don’t have Netflix,” he pointed out.

“Uncle Koo does.”

“Yeah but–”

“He gave me his password.”

“He what?!”

“Don’t freak, he said I had to use a kids profile–”

“Excuse me, ‘don’t freak’?” Jimin repeated, then sighed, “That’s it, he’s never babysitting again.”

“He doesn’t say that, Uncle Tae says that.”

“Yeah, him either. From now on, only Hanbyul or Uncle Hobi–”

“Uncle Hobi said you should let me drop ballet and modern and just do hip-hop–”

“OK, Hanbyul only now,” Jimin joked. Sunnie grinned, clearly thrilled to have tattled on so many uncles. Jimin appreciated the run-down as well. Yes, they might let her get away with things he wouldn’t, but words couldn’t express how much he appreciated their positive presence in her life. He wished they all lived closer. He wished he felt less guilty about leaning on them. He wished he could find a better way to thank them for the support group they had been for him despite themselves not knowing anything about mourning, widowhood, or solo parenting a little girl.

“Fine, let’s watch Ariana Grande,” Jimin decided.

“I’ll get the wine.”

“Wait, what?! Who lets you drink wine–”

“Nobody, Appa, I’m kidding,” she rolled her eyes and Jimin felt a pang of terror. She was growing up. She was growing up so fast. When had she stopped being his little tiny infant daughter?! This time next year she’d be in college!

“Yeah, you better be. Finish your dinner and put those books away. No more homework tonight. You’re working too hard.”

“You’re the one who works too hard. Are you sure you can just be lazy on the couch for the whole thing or are you going to start doing leg-lifts halfway through?” she demanded, crossing her arms and looking briefly so much like him that Jimin laughed.

“All right, little dumpling. Let’s see who can sit still longer.”

“It’s me.”

She was very wrong, but Jimin enjoyed jumping around too, dancing to the music when it was on, watching his daughter’s rapt attention every time Ariana spoke, quietly murmuring the English words she knew under her breath. She knew a lot of English words, actually, they were studying it too much in school. Should he learn? What if one day his daughter spoke in a language he couldn’t understand at all?

Masterlist | Next Chapter

#jimin ff #jimin x oc #park jimin fanfic #dad jimin #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #single dad jimin #after the applause

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sawtastic-sideblog · 1 year ago

Text

This isn't the Gavin idea I posted about, but this is a week of sleep deprivation of writing when I could between work and studying/taking finals.

Tw: talk of death, some violence

Hope y'all enjoy.

"Oi, Y/N, you coming to the footie match?" Gavin asks. You look up from your magazine, staring blankly at him before looking down at your team shirt and back up again. You'd never really liked him, but you got along because of your best friend, Ray.

"Yeah," you answer before turning your eyes back down to the article, but your attention stays on Gavin. You can feel his eyes on you as he sits at the table across from you. You can smell his sandwich.

"Peanut butter and jelly? Really? What are you five?" You ask without looking up.

"My mum made me one before every game. Keeping the tradition alive."

"Ah, so you're superstitious," you say, eyes once again, flitting up towards Gavin. He shakes his head as he chews.

"Nothing like that. I'm just keeping my mum's memory alive. Helps me feel closer to her. Ya know, since she's been gone a full year tomorrow."

Your breath catches in your throat. You knew that. Of course you knew that. You went to the funeral with Ray. You'd just forgotten the dates. You let your eyes fall away from Gavin's as you stumble your apology.

"I'm sorry, Gavin. I didn't realize the date."

"It's okay, Y/N. You don't care about me enough to know these things."

"What things?" Ray asks as he walks into the room wearing his jersey.

"The anniversary of my mum dying."

"They remember it. They just don't know what day it is anymore. The haven't been seeping."

"Ray," you hiss.

"Ah, so, the insomnia has come back, has it? I can help with that," Gavin asks with a glint in his eye.

"Shut up," you say, holding the magazine infront of your face.

"Boys, it's time to go. Big game time," John, Ray's step-dad says.

"Come on, Y/N, time to watch me win us a championship," Gavin says. You roll your eyes and grab your things, following the boys and John to the car.

"Wanna wear my spare jersey? Got my numbers on it," Gavin asks as he opens the car door.

"Get bent," you say as you shove past him into the backseat and crawl all the way to the other side. You hear Gavin chuckle as he gets in the car.

"Go on, Ray!" You yell. You watch as Ray passes the ball over to Gavin. Two of the opposing team's players close in on Gavin, who is running towards the goal. One player tries to get the ball, Gavin dodges. The other player tries for it, Gavin dodges again. He kicks the ball towards the goal. You hold your breath, along with everyone else in the stands.

The ball soars ever so slowly, or so it feels. Your eyes follow the ball as it barely makes it past the goalies hands and into the net. The crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Gavin just won the game!

"Fuck, yes, Gav!" You scream. He looks towards the crowd almost like he's looking for the source of the scream.

Suddenly, he's on the ground. One of the players from the other team is kicking him. You see Ray and some of their other teammates running towards the scene. Ray shoves the player and grabs Gavin as a brawl breaks out between the teams.

You're digging through your bag as Ray brings Gavin over. You hand him the first aid kit from your bag.

"You alright?" You ask.

"I'm great. I think my bloody nose is broken."

"Good game," you say. Gavin's eyes light up and he smiles wide.

"Told you I'd win."

"So you did," you say while looking out at the, now, broken up brawl. Graeme's nose is sideways and John is yelling at him.

"To Gav and his game winning goal!" Graeme shouts into the bar. His voice slightly muted like he's congested. Pretty sure it's just the broken nose.

The team cheers and clinks glasses. You clink your glass against Ray's and go to take a sip.

"Ahem," a voice calls. You pause glass to your lips and turn towards the voice. Gavin holds his glass out to you expectantly. His nose is swollen, but not broken, and bruised and he has a bruise around his left eye.

You roll your eyes, but clink his glass and finally take your sip. Ray grabs your hand and pulls you out to the floor where the two of you dance.

You catch glimpses of Gavin staring at you all night. You can feel his eyes on you when you're turned away. You shrug off the uncomfortable feeling and try to have a good time with your friend.

"Hey, Y/N/N, having a good time?" Ray asks as he sits beside you. You had gone off to a secluded booth to get out of the hustle of the partiers.

"Yeah, just needed to catch my breath."

"Good. Gav is taking me home and asked if you needed a ride."

"Hasn't he been drinking?"

"One beer six hours ago."

"That's not like Gavin," you say surprised.

"He said it was his turn to be the designated driver or some shit."

"Well, how sweet of him. Thinking of others. Decent human being shit," you say sarcastically as you grab your bag. Ray keeps his hand on your upper back as the two of you walk through the crowd.

"Ready to go?" Gavin asks as you approach. You nod and keep walking. You could swear you feel his fingers drag against your wrist. You shrug it off as your drunken imagination and continue out the door.

"See ya, Ray," Gavin says before he slowly rolls forward. He watches the mirror as Ray goes inside. You stare at him as he drives off. You watch the streetlights dance across his features as you pass underneath them. His scruff enticing you with each light you passed.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is reaching out towards Gavin's face. Your fingertips dance across his jaw. He turns his head toward you and your fingers land on his lips.

"What are you doing?"

"You looked fluffy," you say with a slur to your words. You pull your hand back and Gavin shakes his head and turns back towards the road. You close your eyes and relax into the seat.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah, but it's more prickly than fuzzy."

"Your drunk," Gavin says laughing. He pulls into your apartment building's parking lot. "Here's your stop. Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"We're at your flat."

"Okay."

"Go on, then. Get out."

"I am," you say, not moving. You hear Gavin sigh and open his door. Moments later your door is opened and someone is leaning over you. They smell really good. You can tell it's Gavin. You seatbelt is unbuckled and your arm is tugged.

"You smell good."

"Thank you, now, come on, Y/N, you gotta help me out."

"I am."

"No, you're sitting in my car, doing nothing to help me."

"Ugh. Just leave me here."

"Wish I could, darling, but I gotta get home."

"Why? You don't have anyone to go home to."

"Ouch."

"Sorry."

"I'm sure you are. Now, stand up."

You lazily move your legs out of the car and stand up. You're very wobbly as you start taking steps. You hear your door close and you feel a hand on your upper arm.

"That's it. Easy does it," Gavin says, leading you to the metal staircase that leads up to your door. The night air gives you a chill and you try to curl into yourself. "You'll be inside in a minute. You can warm up then. Just walk."

Even with you stumbling up stairs, hitting your legs on everything, the two of you manage to your door. You stumble into the wall and stay there, holding yourself up. You pat your pockets.

"My keys."

"I have them. I have your whole bag. You left it in the car," Gavin says as he rummage for your keys. You start to slide down the wall. Gavin catches you, keys in hand. "Nope."

"I'm tired."

"I know. I'm trying to get you inside."

Gavin unlocks the door and opens it. He guides you inside and you stumble over to the couch, where you slump into the cushions. You fall into the throw pillow and hug it close to your body. You hear Gavin set your bag down and walk around the living room.

Suddenly, you're engulfed in a soft, fluffy material. You realize it's a blanket and pull it closer to your body.

"Goodnight, Gav," you say drunkenly. You hear a distant 'Goodnight Y/N' as you fall away, into a deep sleep.

The next morning you wake up with a terrible headache. You regret drinking so much last night. Your eyes scan the blurry room. You see a glass of water and two bottles on the table. You ready yourself and sit up. Your head is aching and your entire body hurts. Your legs sting as you move them to the floor. You see a note and pick it up.

"You kept falling up the stairs. That explains your legs. You tried to get up to go to the bathroom before I left and you fell into the coffee table. You got your arm and head on that. I tried to make sure you were okay, but your stubborn ass you wouldn't let me. I put the bandage on after you fell asleep. Take the pain killers, drink the water, and the electrolyte drink I left for you. -Gav"

You pick up the bottle of pain killers and down a couple with some water. You get up to start your day, which isn't much since it's your day off. You pick up your blanket to fold it and a jacket falls out of it. You recognize it as Gavin's.

'Why was I covered up with Gavin's jacket?' You wonder to yourself. You remember thinking he smelt good last night, so you hold it to your nose and inhale deeply. He does smell good. You shake it from your head and get to work on cleaning.

Ray calls you a bit later asking if you to come over for movie night. Not wanting to deal with his mother, you invite him to your place. He agrees and tells you he'd pick up pizza.

You're finishing up your cleaning when you hear a knock at the door. You open to find Gavin there, hands in his pockets, a bag hangingoff on wrist. His scruff from last night a little thicker, his eyes shining in the afternoon sun, they look brighter with the darkness of the bruises surrounding them, his hair a little messy, but it suits him. You feel a pull at your heart and get confused.

"Hey, Y/N."

"Hey, Gavin, what are you doing here?"

"Ray said you two were having movie night. Thought I'd come crash it. Unless you guys had other plans," Gavin says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"No, it's just movie night, you dunce," you says, opening the door wider for him to walk in. He walks by you and you catch that scent again. "Did you get new cologne?"

"Nah, it's the same one I've been using for years. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just now noticing it."

"Ah, you like it?"

"It's alright. A little strong."

"Really? You told me I smelled good last night."

"I seem to also remember calling you a dick at the bar."

"This was after the bar. I was bringing you home. You said I smell good and that I look fluffy, but feel prickly."

"What?"

"You said my face looked fluffy, but got disappointed when it was prickly becauenif my beard."

"Oh, sorry," you say. Gavin just shrugs and puts the bag he was carrying on the dining table. You walk into the kitchen to finish up cleaning and Gavin follows you.

"How's the nose?"

"Alright, my entire face is stinging like a bitch. What about your head?"

"Surprisingly my legs hurt more than my head."

"I can imagine. You hit your shins on every surface last night."

"Oh, you left your jacket here. It's on the hook by the door."

"Thanks. Left it with you, incase you wanted to smell me again."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for last night. I appreciate it."

"Not a problem."

"And, uh, about today."

"What about it?"

"What was your mum's favorite movie? We can watch it in honor of her."

"The Sound of Music. Thanks, Y/N, that's really nice of you considering you hate me."

"I don't hate you, but I do tolerate you for Ray. I also liked your mom. She was always really nice to me."

"She liked you, a lot. Always said you were the child she never had. That you were a good influence on me. That you could get me away from Pat."

"Yeah, I agree with her. He's bad news. You should get away."

"Why? You don't care about me."

"Just because I'm not fond of you doesn't mean I don't care about you. I want what's best for everybody and that includes you."

Gavin's hands find your hips and he spins you around. He pin you against the counter. His eyes are full of confusion.

"If you don't like me, why do you want what's best for me? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of not liking me."

"Because, even though you irritate the absolute fuck out of me, I want to see you happy, Gavin."

"Why don't you call me Gav like everybody else?"

"I do, don't I?"

"In six years, I've only heard it twice. Once was last night when I tucked you in and you said goodnight to me. The other was yesterday when I scored the game winning goal. I believe your exact words were 'fuck, yes, Gav,' but that was from across the field, so I'm not sure I heard you properly. I think I need to make you say it again," he says, smirking as your cheeks heat up. He leans closer. "I could have you screaming it."

You're saved by a knock on the door. Gavin let's you go and walks to the door. You quickly run to the bathroom.

"Hey, Ray, we're watching mum's favorite tonight."

Three months later and you're hanging out with Ray. You're just grocery shopping, but you're both having a good time.

"Hello, friends, how we going?" Gavin asks as he blocks the two of you in with his cart.

"Great until now," you answer.

"Ouch, my heart. Y/N, you cruel beast," Gavin says, holding his heart dramatically. "Anyway, game night? I've been itching to play Monopoly."

"Sure," Ray says as he grabs a bag of chips from the shelf. You sigh, but nod your head. You've been trying to avoid Gavin since movie night, but it's proving to be more difficult than you thought. He left his jacket again, so he was back the next day to pick it up. He always seems to find a reason to come into the shop you work in or to hangout with you and Ray.

"My place?" You offer.

"Perfect. See you both tonight," Gavin says before pushing his cart away.

"Cheating bastard," Ray says as he hands Gavin the fake money.

"I'm not cheating, I'm just a smart business man."

"I agree with Ray," you say as you roll the dice. You land on the 'Go To Jail' space for what feel likes the billionth time tonight. You've been in jail so much what they should just give you the key. "Fuck me."

"Maybe later," Gavin jokes. You feel that little pang in your chest again. Your chest always feels funny when he says things like that to you or even when he's just doing mundane things. You heart did flips when he did the dishes at Ray's house once and when he was working on his car and he went to wipe the oil off his hands. Hell, you're pretty sure your heart skipped a beat when he showed up with pizza tonight. His messy hair, scruff, and mischievous eyes made your heart do cartwheels.

It was in that moment that you realized that you like Gavin. You like him so damn much.

"That's it, I'm done," Ray says, standing from the chair and walking to the couch. You laugh as you start cleaning up the game.

"You're done too?"

"Yeah, no use in even trying. You're the better business man," you say as you organize the money. Gavin nods and helps you clean.

The three of you decide to watch a movie and you offer for the two of them to stay the night. Both agree and you grab blankets for them.to use. Ray takes the couch and Gavin steals a throw pillow and makes a place on the floor to sleep. You bid them goodnight and go to your room. You can't sleep because your mind is running wild with the discovery of your feelings for Gavin, so you decide to read.

"Can't sleep?"

You jump and look up to see Gavin poking his head in your door.

"Sorry, saw the light on and decided to check in."

"It's okay and, yeah, I can't sleep."

"Something wrong?"

"Too many thoughts."

"Wanna talk about it?" Gavin asks as he walks fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He doesn't wait for your answer and joins you on the bed.

"No thanks. I'm good."

"Okay. I'm just gonna hang out here then. Floor is hurting my back, Ray is snoring, and I can't sleep either. Got another book?"

You hand him one from your nightstand and both of you sit in silence for a while. Gavin shifts and his shoulder is against yours. You feel the heat he gives off and suddenly reading is very difficult for you. You notice his scent and just how close he is to you. You take a deep breath through your nose.

"Smelling me? Do I smell good again?"

"No," you lie. You have to think quick. "I was trying not to to laugh. Funny part of the book."

"Oh, really? What happened?"

"You'll have to read it and find out."

"Does this mean that I can come back and sit in bed to read with you?" Gavin asks jokingly. You realize that he's flirting.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Yeah and I have been for years now."

"You have?"

"Yeah, you never noticed because you hate me."

"I don't hate you. I tolerated you because of Ray."

"Tolerated? As in past tense?"

"What?"

"You said tolerated. As in you no longer tolerate me. Why do you not tolerate me anymore, Y/N?" Gavin asks. He moves in closer to you. You stare up into his eyes and don't say anything. "Do you like me now, Y/N?"

"Quit it. Stop flirting with me."

"Why?"

"Because it makes it harder."

"Makes what harder? Other than me," he jokes.

"To accept that I like you. That I've always liked you, but I only, unconsciously, let myself start feeling it the night you brought me home. Then the next day, when I woke up with your jacket and realized I liked havin your scent around me. Then, you show up, looking handsome as ever, with my favorite soda. The way you mouthed the words to the movie, the jokes, just everything about you for the past three months have bee eating me alive. I couldn't figure out why until tonight."

"What made you realize you liked me?"

"When you said you'd fuck me later," you say hiding your face with your blanket. Gavin throws his head back and laughs. It's a beautiful sound, but it's at your expense, so you hide your face more. You feel Gavin's arms around you.

"On your terms, I will. Also, I dropped Pat the day we talked. I want to put your mind at ease."

"Good because I just realized I liked you and I don't want to lose you now."

"You're not losing me."

"Good," you say and lean into his chest. One of his hands stroke your hair, the other holds your hand.

"Can I fuck you, though?"

"Not with my best friend is here. Or anytime soon. We're taking things slow. Especially since you haven't asked me out," you explain. Gavin laughs.

"Y/N, will you be mine, only mine, exclusively mine, forever?"

"Yes."

"Good, now can I kiss you?" You nod. He tilts your head up and presses his lips into yours. It's soft and sweet, full of passion and pent up feelings. When you pull away for air, Gavin puts his forehead against yours. "I have been waiting six years to do that."

#gavin ellis #the mule 2014 #ray jenkins #leigh whannell #angus sampson

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