#no one will ever read this but it’s okay i’m just screaming into the void

[thiqskull]

i’ve always yearned to be someone cool. someone mysterious, some whose blog you stalk and think to yourself “they must be so cool” in the same way i do with others.

i’ve always wished to be more interesting. more deep. someone who reads philosophy for fun and has a deep knowledge of almost everything. someone “gifted”. someone talented.

i do not know how to explain it but i always wish to be someone else, someone i can never be.

and instead i am a simple creature, with mundane interests, shallow, unremarkable.

never noticed, always forgotten.

why can’t i like myself for who i am? why do i need to have the same level of beauty of aphrodite and the same talent as the most loved authors, painters, musicians in order to be remembered, cared for, loved?

and i realize these thoughts are unfair to the ones who DO love me, care for me, but this unhappiness with myself is so deeply rooted that i don’t know what to do with it, and it’s becoming more and more frustrating the more i grow up.

[lovieku]

Good Luck, Babe! #4 ☆ jeon jungkook

what happens when you leave everything behind, only to be faced with it again years later? eunbi is convinced she was given another shot at keeping all she ever wanted, but it’s difficult when that all is her childhood best friend who doesn’t want to do anything with her anymore. how to earn his trust back?

☾ pairing: non idol!jk x fem!oc

☾ genre: childhood friends to strangers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

☾ word count: 21.8k

☾ warnings: huhhhh. Angst! jeongguk being a pain in the ass for no reason. well sorta kinda! lots of cute fun moments with the group. until jeongguk comes and ruins it all. (no but i love him). unserious banter until it gets serious, again. pov switch! angst angst angst. mentions of blood!!! fluff if you squint. jealousy if you squint, like, really hard.

☾ author’s note: HELLOOOO first of all happy (late) birthday namjoonie <3 second of all IM FINALLY HERE!!! and this chapter is so long omfg. i got carried away and realised way too late. was too deep in! hope you can enjoy, i love love them sm, its worth getting to the end!

ps: if you read this, lmk what u enjoy more between eunbi’s pov and jk’s pov. it wont change the way i write the story, im just curious!! okay bye <3

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four ⋆ good 4 u

Sleep doesn’t find Eunbi that night. Her mind runs from it, busy searching for something else, grasping for answers to questions that don’t have one. And if they do exist, they get lost in a haze of sadness. Anger. Helplessness. Sadness again.

When Dahye joins her in their shared tent, Eunbi’s eyes are hollow, devoid of any emotion. Her ears still ring with a distant noise, struggling to pick up her friend’s passionate reassurances. Still, she lets herself be held, and comforted by words her brain can’t quite grasp, head resting on Dahye’s chest, a gentle hand running through her hair. For a moment, feeling the soft rhythm of her friend’s breath, she clings to the comfort of her presence, hoping it might anchor her in some way, keep her from completely drifting away.

But everything she has been trying to shut out comes crashing down on her fragile figure the moment she feels Dahye’s arms grow weaker around her, and her breaths getting heavier as sleep takes her. Silent tears trace a path down her cheeks, while loud, screaming thoughts make her head throb and keep her awake all night. She regrets being here; regrets naively hoping things could be mended so easily; regrets the way she stayed quiet the first moment she laid eyes on Jeongguk after all those years; knows it’s her fault.

By morning, the sun having climbed its way in the sky for a couple hours already and its rays forcing themselves in their shelter with unwanted light, she can sense Dahye subtly stir under her. Immediately, Eunbi shuts her eyes closed, feigning deep slumber. Instead, her very awake ears perk when she can feel fussing, Dahye sitting up and ultimately shaking the seemingly unconscious girl’s shoulder, “Bibi?”

If all goes wrong, at least Eunbi could win an Oscar for her performance, the way her eyelids flutter open, slow and heavy, only after rubbing them, and a big yawn escapes her mouth. That wasn’t too fake after all, her body weary with the all-nighter. Dahye doesn’t notice, her smile soft, “Did you sleep well? Are you feeling a bit better?”

Eunbi simply nods, her expression void. She barely registers the other girl mentioning something about washing up, and breakfast, “I’ll leave you some time. But if you’re not out by the time I’m done in the bathroom, I’m dragging your ass out.” Just like that, she slips out of the tent.

Left alone once again with silence, Eunbi listens to the faint noises outside— the muffled voices of her roommate greeting Hoseok and Yoongi. At that, the urge to cry returns, and she feels tears sting at her bottom lashes, threatening to spill. But this time, she holds them back. She knows she can’t let herself break down, not now. Not with everyone outside, and especially not with Jeongguk. Still, she doesn’t think the sorrow written all over her features will go unnoticed.

She feels like an outsider, an intruder trespassing on sacred ground. As if the moment she steps out, all eyes will be on her miserable figure, stripping her bare, judging her poor choices, the ones that lead Jeongguk to spit venom in her face hours ago. Making it clear that she doesn't belong there, that she will never be part of what they already have. Of what Jeongguk has built after her.

Last night, she tried to blame him. She wanted to be angry at him, to turn her hurt into something tangible, something outside of herself. But she couldn't. In the end, she could only turn the anger inward, could only blame herself. Being called a bitch by the best person she's ever known, in front of her university friends, was a brutal wake up call. A reminder of how far she has fallen.

The weight of those thoughts paralyses her for a long moment, while a squeaky, high-pitched voice in the back of her brain screams at her to move, if only to avoid the pitying glance she might receive when Dahye returns. Still, her body protests, limbs heavy and muscles tight from the lack of sleep in the small, uncomfortable place.

With a deep breath that quivers in her chest, she forces herself up. For a second, her hand hesitating at the tent’s entrance and hovering over the zipper, she contemplates hiding in here forever, away from the discomfort. But she knows better. The world outside is waiting, and no amount of hesitation will make it disappear. Quickly throwing on a light pink crewneck over her pyjama shorts, she steps out.

Cool air brushes against her skin in a tender manner, gently welcoming her and seemingly easing her nerves. Before she’s forced to acknowledge the others, she moves quickly, her flip flops clad feet making their way to the small wash station. She hopes the freezing water she repeatedly splashes on her face will cleanse away the fog of the sleepless night, and wishes it could also wash away the weight pressing down on her chest. In the mirror, she convinces herself the dark circles under her eyes aren’t that dark after all, and that the unsettling smile she’s practising is convincing enough to finally join Dahye outside.

The makeshift breakfast setup is simple: a few snacks, some bread, fruit. Namjoon, Taehyung and Aera have also joined the small gathering, making it seven of them now, while the others seem to still be asleep in their tents. Eunbi can hear the casual chatter of the group, the way their voices blend together in an easy rhythm that feels foreign to her now.

With her head down, she picks at the small offerings, not really tasting anything, her appetite almost nonexistent. She almost misses Yoongi’s voice beside her, “Did the creams work?”

Eunbi startles slightly, her gaze darting to the older boy, who wears a sweet grin on his lips. She nods, mirroring his smile timidly. Yoongi makes a show of inspecting her nose as he leans closer, without going over the invisible boundary, his eyes squinting with exaggerated seriousness as he impersonates a doctor’s authority, “Yes, yes. They definitely worked. My patient looks so much better now.” His voice mocks a solemn tone, and it makes the girl heartily giggle.

She’s surprised to see this side of the boy, and she briefly wonders if he’s putting on this act just for her sake, because the misery on her features is that obvious even to him, who left the campfire way before the incident had happened. Either way, it works— she feels herself relax, if only a little, sinking back into her chair with a bit more ease.

Then, Aera asks her about the hoodie she’s wearing, going on about how it compliments her complexion perfectly and Dahye chimes in, explaining how it had originally belonged to her, but after the other girl borrowed it once she decided it looked so much better on her friend that she insisted Eunbi kept it. The recalling of those times keep her distracted, the smile on her face growing bigger as Namjoon makes sure she’s refilling her stomach properly, insisting that she needs her strength for the day’s activities, the worry in his furrowed brows making her feel part of something again.

Just as she begins to think she might make it through this, she senses a shift in the atmosphere. Besides her, Dahye tenses, and Aera clears her throat. Eunbi doesn’t have to look up to know why. Jeongguk has joined them. She can feel his presence like a dark cloud hanging over her, suffocating.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her eyes lift to meet his. His gaze is sharp, eyes shadowed by dark circles that suggest he’s had as restless a night as she has. There’s no trace of warmth, no hint of the familiarity they used to share. Just cold, hard resentment. For a fleeting second, she wills herself to desperately search his face for any sign that she hasn’t lost everything, that there’s still something worth saving. But he quickly diverts his eyes, turning his attention to the others and slipping easily into their conversation. Once again, she feels like a stranger intruding on his world.

As the group’s attention shifts to the boy, Eunbi finds herself spiralling back into her thoughts, struggling to grasp onto anything solid, anything that makes sense. She knows how this will play out: both of them only pretending the other doesn’t exist, but making it clear that same presence is despised, the petty glares and spiteful comments building until one of them finally snaps, just like last night.

To some extent, she understands his frustration. After all, she’s the unwanted guest at his birthday, a painful reminder of a past he’d rather forget. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less. She wasn’t expecting to be openly degraded, with such hatred in his face; to feel small and unwelcome in a place that feels as much hers as his. What can she do? It’s not as if she can just get up and disappear. She’s there, he’s there, and they’re stuck in this awkward dance.

He hasn’t tried to make it any less awkward. Her attempts at being civil have been outright dismissed, and the memory of it fills her with the same rage that bubbled up last night. And as she observes him, it only intensifies. She feels herself cycling through the five stages of grief at an inhumane speed and without following its original order, having skipped straight to depression and now bouncing back to anger. When Jeongguk’s eyes meet hers again, the smile he had been giving Jimin fades instantly. She hates that look.

All that heaviness from last night feels like it has been sucked out of her chest, suddenly devoid of any of the previous gloom that had led her to sad tears streaming her cheeks and impending guilt putting her at fault. Nothing’s left, except this tight, burning knot. It’s not sadness anymore, it’s a hot, fierce feeling coiling in her stomach.

It’s Hoseok who breaks the spell, demanding all of their attention on him, his voice taking on a loud and excited tone. Eunbi struggles to make sense of his words through the fog of anger, her slowed down thought process only registering them when the collective holler that follows fully snaps her out of her trance and pulls her back to the present. The first, opening activity of the trip would be trekking. She doesn’t even bother to fake enthusiasm.

It’s only the second day at the campsite, and Eunbi already has a list long enough to fill an entire notebook of reasons why she never should have come. First of all, whatever fragile hope she had about making things right with Jeongguk has probably died a quick death only in those first few hours. And the rest of the trip? It’s packed with outdoor activities that she wouldn’t really proclaim herself a fan of. Did she even consider that before agreeing to this? The small kid still living inside her most likely saw the words “Jeongguk” and “birthday” and hit yes without a second thought. Not paying any mind to the fact that the two of them are no longer those kids in Busan.

When she glances back at said Busan boy, the previous negativity is washed off his face and instead, his eyes are bright and animated, geeking about today’s trek. Her chest tightens, again. It stings. He looks exactly the way he always has, like the Jeongguk she knows, except she’s not the reason for that look on his face, anymore.

It makes her think. Overthink. Weigh her options. Trying to map out the safest way to move around this minefield. Just moments ago, the sight of him had her blood boiling, the fire in his eyes igniting a stronger spark in her own. But she’s also aware her current position doesn’t paint her as the one entitled to put all the blame on him. Especially when this is supposed to be his trip, a way to celebrate with the people he’s building a new life with. She was never part of the equation, and she gets it. A wrong combination led to unwanted results, and now neither of them know how to find the right pieces and put them back together. None of the numbers are adding up.

She doesn’t feel like letting her resentment take over, at least not here and now; last night only went to show emotions are definitely not needed to decode the problem. She’ll carry them quietly, maybe even figure out some kind of solution along the way. Discover different sequences of calculations that could make sense.

For now, she’s set on ignoring him and making sure her presence is ignored back; avoiding a problem and avoiding creating one. Is this the stage of acceptance? If that’s what it can be called, she welcomes it with a long, liberating breath, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Dahye.

Except, several more huffs follow, and Dahye is there to endure all of them: when they’re back in the tent, Eunbi slapping on some concealer to cover her dark circles, then trying to disguise her pallid complexion with blush, ending up groaning and turning to her concerned friend with drawn up eyebrows, “Did I overdo it?”; as she’s zipping up her white tennis skort; rummaging her bag for ages only to slip on the most basic black oversized t-shirt; taking forever to tie her Converses.

Dahye stalls. She’s aware they’re late, can sense it in the way Hoseok is subtly raising his voice outside to make himself heard, “It’s not like we’re totally late on our schedule. Take your sweet time, guys!” He’s sarcastic, if his shaky laughter is anything to go by.

She also knows she doesn’t want to be eaten alive by her best friend, knows better not to rush her right now. She’s had enough experience living with her. So she stays quiet, puts up with her friend’s small crisis and lets her deal with it on her own. Only when it seems like she’s over with it, Dahye calmly asks Eunbi if she feels like she’s ready to go. The answer is uncertain, but Dahye grasps on that small percentuality of sureness and exits the tent either way, before Hoseok turns out to be the one eating her alive.

When they finally step out to join the group, Eunbi releases one last dramatic sigh, and the prolonged sound of it translates into Dahye’s right eyelid twitching. She tries composedly, at first, “Bibi, will you stop doing that?”

”Doing what?”

”Sighing like you’re a damn war veteran!” Her exasperation draws a few chuckles from their friends, including a sneaky giggle from Jimin, observing the interaction and getting Dahye’s attention in the process.

Eunbi mutters a small sorry, the apology dismissed by her now distracted friend, seemingly having forgotten the whole ordeal in a matter of seconds. The other girl seizes the moment to vent, “I’m just getting more stressed by the minute about this whole thing. I told you I shouldn’t have come. What if, I don’t know— I get hurt?” Her eyebrows are raised, dramatic act on, pout displayed, “I’ll blame you.”

Dahye is clearly unimpressed, rolling her eyes amusedly at Eunbi’s efforts, “Bi, you’ll be okay. Just fine.” She faces the shorter one now, hands on her shoulders like a mother sending her child off to summer camp. Well, technically she is about to do that, “Why don’t you try mingling with the others? Let’s pretend I don’t exist. Yeah!”

Dahye’s convincing nods are comically mirrored by Eunbi shaking her head, the desperation on her features going ignored by her taller friend. The last thing she wants right now is exactly mingling with the others. Dahye goes on dissimulating, “Stick next to Namjoon. He, huh— he knows about this kinda stuff. I guess? I’ll catch up with Jimin, okay? Bye, babe!”

Eunbi’s childish protests fall on deaf ears as the other girl slips away. Her one anchor, gone. Not even her best pleading tactics have worked. The muffled curses under her breath are vile, and she wishes Jimin would just make a move on her friend already. Maybe then, all of this would make sense.

Still, she merges with the others. It’s hard to find her place in there, especially with the insecurities plaguing her mind, as everyone splits off into their little duos and trios. Taehyung and Seokjin try to pull her into their usual, weird hypothetical debates, “Let’s say you have a penis. Would you still jack off if when you came your semen was just one big sperm, and afterward you'd have to fight it?”

Despite herself, she enjoys the distraction. Trekking is not so bad when you desperately need your brain to unplug. The trail is not too far from the campsite, circling it and making it ideal for them to wander without getting lost. The summer air is warm, and heavy with the sweet scent of wildflowers and the earthy aroma of sun-warmed pine needles.

With the path gradually climbing uphill, the initially dense forest begins to thin, and with it Eunbi’s thoughts follow, loosening with each step. She’s not sure if it’s the silly joy filling her when colourful butterflies flutter past, or the brief interaction she entertains with a small chipmunk darting across the way, but there’s something calming about the rhythm of it all. The green all around her takes over her spiralling mind.

Eventually, Dahye’s suggestion turns out to be a good one, and soon Eunbi finds herself covering most part of the walk with Namjoon by her side, who’s a walking encyclopedia on the local fauna. His easy conversation and gentle humour slowly start to chip away at the tension in her shoulders. He’s good company— listens well, comes up with just the right responses, and somehow makes her feel less like she’s tagging along and more like she belongs.

Time slips away when being this disconnected to the chaos of the city but so connected to this bubble of green and quiet. Sharing that with her friends doesn’t make her worry about the clock, though. She laughs loudly, and speaks comfortably. And just like that, she’s unaware of the first two hours that go by with walking and chatting, this last part ceasing gradually when the path becomes steeper and more rugged, their breaths getting heavier with each large step. But the effort is worth it when they reach the summit and are rewarded with a breathtaking view. Eunbi’s eyes light up at the sight, even more so when she spots the perfect rock to plop down on and gulp water from her flask.

Before she can, it takes a few other seconds for her eyes to cover the whole scene, and when they do she notices Jeongguk. He’s sitting next to Iseul, his clothes similar to the ones Eunbi is wearing, just colour inverted with a white oversized t-shirt and black gym shorts. He doesn’t seem to be aware of her presence, yet. He’s laughing at something on the girl’s phone. Eunbi silently scoffs.

The attention is brought on her and Namjoon the moment the latter greets his friend, who acts as if she doesn’t exist. Eunbi is not any less of an actor, pretending to be much more interested in the panorama rather than the conversation the two men are having.

While her companion takes some pictures of the scenery, Eunbi drinks as much water as needed to feel hydrated without needing to go to the bathroom in the next 10 seconds. The walk is still long, and the campsite still far. For that reason, and totally not because she can’t stand the sight of Jeongguk sitting next to the short haired girl giggling about one of their inside jokes, she announces, “I’m ready to go again.”

Namjoon looks a bit taken aback, “Already?”

”Yeah. Let’s go.”

”You sure you don’t wanna rest?” Eunbi only shakes her head, fixing the backpack on her shoulders. The taller boy chuckles, “And here I thought you hated trekking.”

Eunbi lets out a genuine laugh. It’s refreshing to hear, even if she can feel the interaction being followed attentively by a pair of curious eyes, and when she gives in and looks their way, they immediately focus on the trees behind her. Whatever.

Just as she starts walking to follow behind Namjoon, her foot trips on a rock and she stumbles. Her first instinct, accompanied by a loud squeal, is to grab Namjoon’s shoulders for support, and luckily the boy promptly catches her. From the corner of her eye, she swears she sees Jeongguk nearly leaping to his feet. His hand twitches before he forces it back to his lap.

”Are you okay?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide with concern, hands steady on her forearms as he checks her foot with his gaze for any sprain, “Wait, your shoe is untied.”

He swiftly drops on his knee and works on the laces of her shoes, delicately inspecting her ankle in the process. Eunbi looks down at him, and she feels her cheeks flare slightly, both because of the embarrassment and the action feeling a little too intimate. She diverts her eyes, and her gaze automatically lands on Jeongguk. His face is immediately wiped from what, for a split second, looked like fright. Worry. He’s back to indifference, looking behind his shoulders, and she figures she must have imagined it.

”Can you walk?” Namjoon’s voice pulls her back, his figure now standing tall in front of her. She nods, shaking off the overwhelment, and assures she’s okay. Namjoon doesn’t believe her until she’s forced to take a walking test, going back and forth for one minute before he’s fully convinced she hasn’t twisted her ankle or anything.

When they set off again, laughter bubbles up between them as Namjoon cheekily makes fun of her squeal and her clumsiness, and Eunbi lightly shoves him. She’s glad she’s going through this with him; it’s making them closer and she finds they have so much more in common than she initially thought.

For a moment, she regrets not even sitting down for a second to rest, her feet protesting in her old Converses, but she quickly realises the other alternative and prefers having her legs hurt over being in the presence of Jeongguk, surrounded by quiet, and nature, and all the possible existent reasons to be kind to each other. Which they’re not really planning on doing, right now.

Even more with Iseul there. Eunbi doesn’t know why, but something about the girl rubs her the wrong way. It’s not like they ever got a chance to bond, but it feels like Iseul hasn’t even tried. They don’t have anything against each other, but the way she’s sticking to Jeongguk’s side after yesterday’s fiasco brings Eunbi to not really contemplate the possibility of them getting closer either.

The trail descends into a different path of the forest, this one denser and cooler, providing the duo with a break from the midday heat. Their pace is slower, and the talking quiets down too in favour of soaking in the tranquillity that surrounds them. Eunbi feels herself recover from the previous slip and sighs, this time contentedly.

The peace doesn’t last for long. Behind her shoulders, her ears pick up hurried footsteps, the cracking of the leaves stronger under them, the unmistakable sound of someone catching up. Eunbi doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she can sense his presence like an itch she can’t scratch. Jeongguk reaches her, his voice almost touching her neck, “Can you move out of the way?”

There’s plenty of space. Hell, the path could fit five trucks. Her eyes close momentarily, searching for all the strength she needs to resist the provocation. She steps aside, set on not paying him too much mind. She doesn’t want to be affected by his tone. She’s decided to let him be, and think what he wants of her.

Jeongguk doesn’t seem too fond of the silence he’s met with, though. Was probably expecting her witty impulses to react. But she ignores him. He walks past her, but it looks like his initial aim at surpassing her goes forgotten. His steps are shorter, not covering big distances anymore and keeping him at an arm’s length from her, Iseul beside him oblivious to the tension.

He looks back after Eunbi thought he would limit himself to the snappy tone, but she was wrong, obviously, the glint in his eyes daring her to respond, “Wow, you’re really slow.”

Eunbi tries not to snap, she really tries. Thinks of brushing the comment with a simple dismissing chuckle, pretending it doesn’t make her hand twitch. Her tongue poke her inner cheek. But it’s like the minimal sight of him gets her burning with annoyance.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t aware this was a marathon. Good luck winning!” Is this enough of a bitch answer? She hopes so, the smile that accompanies it deathly sarcastic. She just doesn’t want to deal with Jeongguk after last night. Fears the resentment is still too alive for her to handle it better.

Of course, he doesn’t back down from a good childish banter, though, “You’re still slow.”

”Well, I’m trekking.”

”And you’re seriously wearing Converses to do that.” His eyes fall to her feet with a delighted scoff. He’s unbelievable.

”So sorry I couldn’t afford trekking shoes.” The concern is clearly faked, and she hopes she just imagined Jeongguk rolling his eyes subtly.

”That’s why you’re slow.” He has the audacity to raise his eyebrows and shrug at Eunbi’s speechless state, the argument resulting in the dumbest interaction she’s had in days, leaving her pissed nonetheless.

Jeongguk rewinds his fast paced walk, not really considering poor Iseul trying to keep up with him. Both her and Namjoon are left disoriented with the meaningless bickering they found themselves spectators of, but they wisely stay silent to prevent stirring the pot further.

Eunbi, however, doesn’t even notice the sudden quiet, the thoughts screaming in her brain making up for it. She feels completely blindsided. All those times she tried to make even the smallest kind of conversation with him, she was ignored. Her smiles, kind requests and efforts to maintain a friendly demeanour— completely fucking dismissed. And now, just when she’d decided the best thing she could do for both of them was to back off, to give them each the space they needed to avoid any further animosity, what does he do? He searches for it. Purposefully searches for it, as if he wants to provoke some kind of reaction out of her. She’s so fed up. What’s his deal? Why seek out conflict when they were finally starting to find some semblance of peace in their indifference? It’s infuriating. She can’t help the small growl of frustration that escapes her lips. God, what an asshole.

A small scoff from Namjoon pulls her out of her daze, and she glances his way, her face a picture of confusion and irritation. The boy shakes his head, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips, “He can be, sometimes.”

It’s only then that she realises she must have muttered her last thought out loud. She laughs softly at her slip, sheepishly brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that. We’re just… not exactly on good terms, right now.”

Namjoon is silent as her admission hangs in the air, unpressured. Instead, he just nods, his eyes reflecting a quiet empathy, inviting but not intrusive. He’s giving her the choice, whether she wishes to open up or carry that baggage on her own. It’s not like he’s oblivious to the tension between her and Jeongguk; the whole group would agree it has been evident ever since Eunbi joined. But neither she nor Jeongguk offered any explanations, so there was no choice but to adapt to the hostility. Dahye had only once hinted at the fact that they’d known each other for a long time, letting it slip casually, much to Eunbi’s silent dismay, but beyond that, no other details were ever shared.

Eunbi hesitates. She trusts Namjoon, the way she trusts the others, really— would vomit all her feelings on his t-shirt right now. But it wouldn’t feel right to give only her side of the story, knowing Jeongguk has lived in the dark about certain truths for years. He probably harbours his own complicated feelings, ones he’s kept close to his chest for a long time, feelings that would be overshadowed by her own if she spoke out of turn. She doesn’t think it’s her place to say what happened.

The silence stretches on, and Eunbi is more conflicted with each passing second. Her eyes drift to the figure of Jeongguk moving farther away, his silhouette becoming smaller with every step until he rounds a corner and disappears from view. With him goes the moment, the possibility of Namjoon ever knowing what happened, at least from her. He seems to accept this, doesn’t push her to speak, and she appreciates it when he shifts the conversation, making a light-hearted comment about the trees and their unusual shapes. She smiles.

The afternoon sun beats down on them, making the air thick and sticky. Time drags on, more hours roll by, the trail winding endlessly through the woods. They find spots to sit now and then, taking short breaks to catch their breath. But the further they trek, the more Eunbi grows frustrated. Her calves ache, muscles burning from the climb, and she has to stop every so often to rub at them, cursing under her breath. Namjoon forces himself to not laugh at that, instead keeping his usual calm and patient, assuring her with a grin that they’re almost there. Though she’s pretty sure he’s just saying that to keep her spirits up.

Eventually, their slow pace brings them closer to some of the others who had lagged behind. They all wear the same weary expressions, the exhaustion etched into their features. They try to relieve some of it by distracting themselves from the thought of their feet hurting, one of them starting a game of Guess the Song by humming the melody. It quickly dissolves into a mess of off-key notes and missed beats, their tired brains unable to keep up, and it’s not long before they’re all laughing. The kind of belly laughs that make your sides ache.

Eunbi finds herself genuinely enjoying the moment, forgetting all about asking to sit down every five minutes, even catching herself humming along. She discovers Taehyung has quite a talent for singing, and notices how blatantly obvious Aera’s crush on him is.

By the time they finally reach the campsite, Eunbi feels a wave of relief wash over her, so strong it nearly brings tears to her eyes. The sun has started its descent, casting a golden glow over the clearing, and the heat of the day is beginning to be replaced by a cool, refreshing breeze that lifts the hair from her sweaty neck. She falls into step beside Dahye, who has reappeared after what feels like hours spent with Jimin. They don’t need words; they walk side by side in silence, until the shorter one bumps her shoulder lightly against Dahye’s, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Shut up,” the taller one rolls her eyes at the unspoken tease, though the grin on her face suggests she’s anything but annoyed.

Eunbi’s hands are immediately up in the air, mocking innocence, ”Didn’t say a single word.”

”Sure, you didn’t.” Dahye retorts, but her tone is playful. “Anyways, the others want to hit the lake before dinner. You in?”

”I’ll pass. I need a nap. I’m dead tired from all this. When I catch Hoseok, I swear.” Eunbi’s voice is half-joking, half-serious, her narrowed eyes suggesting she may be even a bit too serious, and Dahye just laughs.

They part ways, Eunbi disappearing in her tent and relishing the thought of a few quiet moments to herself. As much as she loves the company, sometimes it drains her. Sometimes, she just needs a moment to breathe, be with her own self and nobody else. Especially given the amount of times her sanity has been tested during the first two days of this trip.

Sleep comes to her easily, pulling her under as soon as her head hits the small, makeshift pillow. The muffled sounds of her friends outside — splashes from the lake, bursts of laughter — soothe her into a deep, much-needed, dreamless rest.

When she stirs awake, the sun has already dipped below the horizon, and she can feel the noises from the group much closer now. The air is filled with the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat and vegetables, and it’s said delicious smell that puts her five senses to operate again. Her stomach grumbling wakes her before Dahye can, the tent flaps open just as her friend was about to poke her head inside.

Eunbi blinks awake groggily, stumbling out bleary-eyed, and Dahye mercilessly laughs at her still half-asleep face, “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

”Fuck you.”

The teasing is playful, and Eunbi cheekily grins as her friend giggles. She wraps a hoodie around her shoulders to ward off the growing chill and keep some of the warmth from the nap, then makes her way to the fire where the others are gathered. When they take in her sleep-dazed state, they don’t miss a beat and start poking fun at her, pulling her hood up over her head or sneakily tickling her sides until she’s laughing despite herself. The laughter feels good, like a release, and she finds herself slowly waking up, becoming more aware, more present.

A large campfire crackles in the centre of the group, its flames dancing in the cool evening air, Yoongi and Seokjin in charge of dinner. Someone’s turned on a portable speaker, and soft music drifts through the campsite, blending with the sounds of laughter and the sizzle of food. Eunbi sits back, letting the warmth of the fire seep into her skin, content to simply listen, to watch the way the firelight plays across everyone’s faces.

It’s almost too easy to relax into the peaceful rhythm of the evening, her still vulnerable brain unwinding the tension she wasn’t aware of from her shoulders. The heat of the fire, the hum of laughter, and the quiet murmur of conversation blend together, creating a cocoon of comfort she hadn’t realised she needed. It’s as she starts letting herself be taken over by that familiar, soothing calm — the same one she’d found in her tent — that a faint alarm goes off in her brain. Its tiny beep only grows louder until it’s impossible to ignore. Something’s off. Her contentment feels misplaced. Like she’s forgotten a crucial detail that’s only now creeping back into her awareness.

The realisation slams into her like a wave, jolting her fully awake, the moment her gaze lands on Jeongguk. Suddenly, everything snaps back into sharp focus. His face, illuminated by the flickering firelight, is a stark reminder of the reality she had temporarily escaped. The events of the past few days come rushing back. Right, quick recap: she’s on Jeongguk’s birthday trip. Jeongguk, who can’t stand the sight of her. Jeongguk, who had called her a bitch last night. How could she almost forget that minor detail?

So here she is, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by friends and food, but all she can focus on is Jeongguk. The one person here who probably wishes she wasn’t. No sense dwelling on it now, though. She’s there, there’s no going back. Her only aim is to make it through the night. Make it through the night without repeating yesterday, or making things even worse. For that to happen, she just has to ignore the object of her epiphany like she has been trying to ever since the stressful day started. She hopes he’ll be smart enough to do the same.

It seems like it when dinner goes by without any notable tension, which is a small miracle in itself. Jeongguk seems just as engrossed by the food as she is, its hot, comforting and delicious taste being a welcome distraction, especially with that distinct smoky flavour from being cooked over the open fire. Everyone is too busy devouring their meals to talk much, but their sparkling eyes speak with gratitude for their hyungs’ magic hands. Eunbi uses the unusual quiet to gaze up at the sky, the stars slowly coming out to dot its darkening blue.

Though, peace never lasts long with this group. Jimin breaks the silence as he cracks open a beer bottle with a grin that spells mischief, “Let’s play a game.”

Taehyung, already leaning back in his chair with a lazy smile, nods, chiming in, “Since we’ve got alcohol, how about Never Have I Ever?”

”Just don’t ask stupid questions because you want to get drunk,” Dahye warns, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Her comment earns a round of laughter, easing the tension that had settled during the quiet, their voices soon overtaking the crackling of the fire once again.

Jimin hands the beer bottles, making sure everyone has one as he sits back with a teasing glint in his gaze. He locks eyes with Dahye, challenging her, “Okay, I got the perfect one, then. Never have I ever… pooped.”

The absurdity of the statement catches the others off guard, and they all erupt in silly chuckles, taking a sip. Except for Dahye, who sits there with a perfectly straight face. Jimin raises an eyebrow, expectantly waiting for her to drink, but she just shrugs, “Girls don’t poop.”

The girls echo her sentiment with mock seriousness, filling the camp with sarcastic agreements and playful banter, while a debate kicks off between Dahye and Jimin about the biological impossibility of her assertion. It’s cut short when Iseul eagerly starts smacking Jeongguk’s thigh by her side, her excitement palpable and getting everyone’s attention in the process, “Ooh, I got one! Never have I ever stolen something.”

Most of the group drinks at that, Yoongi snorting blatantly, and Iseul frowns in disappointment, expecting a different outcome. Dahye chuckles, “Babe, everyone’s stolen at some point. That was too easy. It’s okay, let’s just keep going. Jeongguk, your turn.”

Next to Iseul, Jeongguk seems to think for a moment, then he grins, “Never have I ever… rode a motorcycle.” He gulps down a big sip from his bottle.

”Are you looking to get drunk tonight, Ggukie?” It’s his best friend teasing him with wiggling eyebrows, and the younger just shrugs with a lazy smirk.

Eunbi drinks too, at that. Now that she thinks of it, the first and only time she was on a bike, Jeongguk was taking her home and she was holding her arms tight around his torso, his helmet secured under her chin and his jacket wrapped around her body. That’s the last nice gesture she’s seen from him, and the thought stirs something complicated in her chest. She glances at him without meaning to, catching his eye for just a second before they both look away.

Hoseok is quick with another question, “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.”

Only Seokjin and Sora drink, and the group teases them with a long, exaggerated holler. The two love birds share a sheepish smile, their faces turning a soft shade of pink under the firelight.

”We should all do that right now.” It’s Taehyung proposing it, his tone half-serious, half-challenging.

Dahye pulls a face, “The thought alone is making me want to vomit.” She mutters, and the laughter that follows becomes the soundtrack of their night for what feels like hours, the game stretching on with each question getting weirder and more personal.

The beer flows freely, and Eunbi finds herself relaxing more than she expected, her body sinking comfortably into her chair. She laughs at Hoseok’s ridiculous question about eating bugs and groans at Jimin recalling the time he laughed so hard he pissed his pants as an adult, sipping on her bottle as the group continues to tease one another.

The loop restarts for the nth time, Iseul piping up again, “Never have I ever sneaked out.”

Surprisingly, only Namjoon, Jeongguk and Eunbi drink this time. The reaction is immediate, the group’s interest piqued, Dahye curiously turning to her friend, “When was that, Bibi?”

Eunbi doesn’t register the implications of her light giggle, nor the way her eyes soften as she gets caught up in the memory, “Back when I was in middle school.” Young and restless, desperate for the thrill. Besides her forever best friend.

Always a bit more noisy than he should be, Hoseok chimes in, “Were you with anyone?”

She chuckles, the answer coming to her lips almost instinctively, “Oh, I was with—“ Her gaze flickers to Jeongguk, and suddenly the smile drops from her face. Right. She always seems to forget where they stand now. It’s like the kid inside her is still desperately clinging to those moments, fighting to have him back, to drag him into her orbit.

Jeongguk lets out a small scoff, barely audible over the crackling fire, but she catches it. His expression is closed off, guarded. Eunbi clears her throat, “Huh, it doesn’t matter.”

The air grows thick with tension, the silence that follows almost deafening. Some of them understand the awkwardness, sensing the history that neither Eunbi nor Jeongguk ever fully explained. Others, like Hoseok, are a little clueless. He turns to the other boy, grinning like a cat who caught the canary, “Ooh, Ggukie, you drank too, right? Who was it with?”

Jeongguk shrugs, a dark, unamused smirk spreading across his lips. His eyes don’t leave Eunbi, his tone sarcastic but cold, “Apparently, it doesn’t matter.”

The affronted girl narrows her eyes, trying to mask the sting of his tone. The jab hits deeper than she’d like to admit, even more when they both know exactly why she said that. Why she had to say it. Unspeakable words are plastered on their wounded expressions, but she looks down at her hands before her heart betrays her, fighting its way up her throat to scream them all out.

It’s ironic how the questions that follow feel like one stab after the other, almost purposefully touching a raw nerve from the past, memories she’d rather not revisit now. Never have I ever used someone else’s toothbrush. Never have I ever climbed out a window. It’s small, silly moments that she knows — hopes — Jeongguk remembers too. And she can’t help but search for that sign of recognition in his face. Or anything, at this point. The slightest spark in his eyes. The imperceptible jolt of his hand. She wants to tell him. It matters. It matters. It matters.

But does it matter to him now? Did every single piece of the puzzle get lost in the storm? Did Jeongguk always feel so unreachable? Were his eyes always so devoid of light when he looked at her? She misses stargazing.

When the weight on her heart becomes too much to bear, the weariness from the day and the effects of the sleepless night tangling with the complicated emotions she’s feeling and translating into frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, she gets up muttering a half-hearted excuse about being tired and heads for her tent.

Inside, focusing on the fabric ceiling rather than both her heart and brain exceptionally teaming up only to scream at her to find a way to escape from all this (maybe steal Namjoon’s car keys, or swim her way back to the city), she wills her eyes to close and begs whatever god who might be listening to spare her from more misery. Just for tomorrow. Please.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The divinities Eunbi tried to reach with her desperate pleas must have been terribly busy last night, because tomorrow is here and it’s charged with even more tension and hostility than she thought they could ever harbour for one another.

Today’s activity is canoeing, and with the surprisingly adequate amount of sleep she managed to get, her first approach is even optimistic. She’s decided to start off with the positive mindset that things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Sat in the small two-person canoe, she’s determined to steer the day in a better direction, to navigate the rough waters of their fraught relationship. Even if a new wave of something worse than what already happened is aimed directly at her, she’d be able to handle it.

Only thing she didn’t exactly consider was the counterpart of the clash possibly not sharing the same intentions as hers. Which is exactly what is happening, Jeongguk never backing down from stirring the pot further only to obtain a rank, grisly soup made with pettiness and resentment, spoon-feeding it to her with every chance he gets. Though she can still say she’s tasted worse from him, the bitterness lingers, coating her tongue like bile.

The setting for their little showdown is picturesque, almost mockingly so. The river glimmers under the afternoon sun, its surface reflecting a golden hue that dances across the water, and the hills in the distance are bathed in a soft, amber glow. Nature itself is trying to soothe the tension, yet it only seems to amplify the dissonance. The universe must be testing her. Can you handle this one, Bee?

The group naturally splits off into pairs, reflecting yesterday’s layout, with Eunbi and Namjoon finding themselves navigating together, just as Dahye is with Jimin, and Jeongguk with Iseul. It starts off peacefully enough. They glide slowly along the river, their paddles dipping gently into the water, the only sound the quiet murmurs of conversation and the occasional splash.

Eunbi allows herself to relax. She chuckles at Namjoon’s poor attempts at taking aesthetically pleasing pictures of her, then shows him how it’s done when she points the camera at him, sealing the moment with a lovely shot of her friend enveloped in an ochre light, his dimples sheepishly showing. She grazes the cold water with her finger, getting lost in the simple way it dances with her movements. She closes her eyes and tilts her face up to the sun, letting its warmth seep into her skin.

Though she should have anticipated the serenity being almost surreal, and should have considered herself deranged to even think it could continue like that. She’s pulled out of her moment when the water beside her canoe suddenly churns with agitation.

What she sees on her right is a sight that throws all the optimism and positivity from this morning right in the bin, and replaces it with the effects of Jeongguk’s wicked soup. Said chef shoots past her at an unnecessary, almost reckless speed for what’s supposed to be a leisurely excursion among friends. His canoe slices through the water with aggressive precision, sending ripples crashing against Eunbi’s boat. See, she would keep her composure in any other situation; would continue straight on her path of ignoring him, no matter how unsuccessful the previous attempts had been. She’s afraid she’ll keep failing, though.

And it’s really just because when she sees how he’s paddling with a furious intensity, his muscles straining with effort while Iseul is squealing and screaming in front of him, her hands gripping the sides of the boat as she begs him to slow down, it’s clear Jeongguk is doing it on purpose. Acting out another one of his plans to get a reaction out of her, not caring how down things could go at that point. Why should she, then? It’s when his eyes lock onto hers as he passes, daring to push all her buttons, that she finds her answer.

Eunbi’s blood boils. She’s speechless with the immaturity, but best believe she’s coming on ten times stronger with it. She just can’t wrap her mind around the fact that it seems the more she tries to interact with him, the more she gets pushed away; but the more she keeps her distance, the more he seeks for her reaction. What is he trying to prove? What is he aiming to get out of her? Eunbi doesn’t exactly have time to entertain the moral, rational part of her brain and puzzle over his motives, her own childishness busying her with gripping the paddles tight, her knuckles turning white as she channels all her frustration into rowing. She puts all the strength she can muster to try and catch up to Jeongguk without popping a vein. Namjoon notices the sudden shift in pace, even if minimal with Eunbi’s laughable efforts at moving faster, nonetheless startled by the abrupt burst of energy.

”Bi, what are you—“

”Joon, help me overtake Gguk.” It’s said through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, fixated only on the target ahead. Namjoon is disoriented. Does she even realise the use of the nickname? It doesn’t look like that as she keeps going undeterred, even with her companion initially not collaborating, too confused to settle on what to do. Eventually, he sighs and grips his own paddle, deciding to help his friend in whatever battle she’s waging. He glances back to see just how far Jeongguk has gotten and shakes his head.

”You two are literal kids, you do know that?” Namjoon mutters, his comment going ignored.

Jeongguk, meanwhile, senses them closing in. A competitive glint flashes in his eyes. He doubles down, paddling harder, sending more water splashing in every direction. Eunbi isn't far behind, and for a moment it feels like they’re the only two on the river, locked in this ridiculous race. They’re both too stubborn to back down, too caught up in their own challenge to notice how idiotic they look.

Namjoon sighs again, raising his voice over the chaos, “Guys, seriously, this is getting out of hand.”

Iseul echoes his concern, a nervous edge to her voice, “Yeah, Joon’s right. Please, Ggukkie? We’re getting too far away from the others. It’s going to be a nightmare rowing back!”

Her whines go unnoticed by Jeongguk, who keeps his gaze straight on Eunbi as she has managed to catch up and is now beside him, mirroring that same flame in her orbs. He distractly acknowledges the two innocent spectators, “I just wanted to go and see… that thing over there.” He calls back, voice strained as he keeps his eyes locked on his rival. He doesn’t even know what he’s pointing at— there’s nothing but more water and distant trees.

”Oh, that… thing,” Eunbi adds, equally unconvincing. They exchange a glance, both wearing narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, determined not to be the first to admit defeat.

Their canoes race neck and neck, the water splashing around them as if reflecting the tension in the air. It’s a childish competition, one that speaks to their unresolved feelings, both wanting to interact, to be noticed by the other, but neither willing to show it’s because they care.

And mostly, it’s messy. Definitely not what two people should be attempting to do on their first time canoeing. On one side, their inexperience comes handy as it doesn’t completely isolate them from the starting point, but it still shouldn’t be happening. And it becomes more and more frantic as shown by their drawn faces and clumsy movements. A disaster of any kind should have been predicted at any second from that only.

It happens when Jeongguk leans too far over the edge, his canoe wobbling dangerously. Iseul lets out a high-pitched scream, gripping the sides of the boat. Eunbi’s heart leaps into her throat, all thoughts of their petty race forgotten in an instant.

“Gguk, careful!” She shouts, her voice thick with concern. Without thinking, she reaches out with her paddle, trying to steady his canoe from a distance. For a moment, everything else falls away— the tension, the bickering, the hurt. All she sees is him, about to fall, and her instinct to protect him kicks in.

Jeongguk manages to regain his balance just in time, his canoe righting itself with a lurch. Everything pauses. He lets out a breath of relief, a small, surprised chuckle escaping his lips. Eunbi exhales too, a soft, almost involuntary smile forming on her face. It lasts a second, but it feels like more when they share a look different from all the others. Relief. I’m glad you’re safe. Recognition. Thank you. Stillness.

But then reality snaps back into place. They both realise what they’re doing, and their expressions harden almost simultaneously. Eunbi quickly looks away, her face flushing with embarrassment. Jeongguk mutters, self-reproaching, “God, this is so stupid.”

The brief moment of softness vanishes the instant Eunbi catches his words, and she snaps, her voice rising childishly with indignation, “You started this!”

Jeongguk scoffs, “Me? You’re the one who wanted to overtake me!”

“You were the one paddling like a maniac!”

“I literally almost fell in the water because of you.”

Eunbi’s eyes get unbelievably wider with disbelief, a sarcastic laugh escaping her, “Oh, that was not because of me. That’s because you are incompetent.”

“Don’t throw big words at me now.”

“Sorry, I’ll lower my vocabulary down for you to understand.”

The childish bickering stretches on for astonishingly long minutes, the volume of their voices rising over the gentle sounds of the river. Namjoon, who had been rowing quietly, finally has enough. With a frustrated sigh, he takes the paddles and makes it his own solo mission to row back toward the others by himself, muttering under his breath, “I can’t believe I have to do this.”

His comment is mostly drowned out by the relentless sparring between Eunbi and Jeongguk, who are too engrossed in their argument to notice that Namjoon is now paddling alone, their strained voices echoing across the water. Jeongguk even goes as far as to row his canoe back behind his hyung’s just so he can have the last word in. It’s ridiculous, really— a silly argument born from a place neither of them is willing to acknowledge.

“Wow, that’s real mature of you, Eunbi. What’s next, you gonna stick your tongue out at me?”

She bristles, her cheeks flushing with the effort the rage is taking out of her, “I might as well if you keep acting like a dick!”

Jeongguk sneers, “Oh, please. I’m not the one who started this whole stupid race.”

Eunbi is aware the more she keeps it going, the more she’ll fall right into his trap but she fears she’s already too deep to back down now, “You were showing off!”

“And you were just so jealous you couldn’t stand it.”

“Enough! Both of you!” It’s Namjoon who finally snaps, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. He gives the oars a decisive pull, the canoe cutting through the water with renewed force. His voice is stern, and much different from the calm tone Eunbi has grown accustomed to, his patience had clearly worn thin, “I can’t believe I’m stuck in the middle of this… whatever this is. My ears are bleeding. If you two want to sort out whatever childish feud you’re having, do it on dry land. And away from me.”

The sudden authority in the older guy’s voice silences them both, and the quiet that falls upon them is as much a blessing as deafening. There’s a beat of awkward tension as they both realise how ridiculous they must look. Two grown adults behaving like squabbling children and shut down by their yelling, frustrated father. The reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. They’re too far from the rest of the group, their petty race having pulled them far off, all because of their stubbornness and bruised egos.

What follows is what should have surrounded them right from the beginning, stillness only interrupted by the flushing of the water as it gets caressed by their paddles rowing back to their initial position. Eunbi’s face burns with embarrassment, and with the realisation of how low she’s stooped. The urge to apologise to Namjoon itches at the back of her throat, but pride prevents her from doing it in front of Jeongguk.

No one dares add a word, not even a breath too loud, the tension lingering but now tinged with a sense of shame. Other than the rhythmic splash of their oars and the distant laughter of their friends, the only sound that can be occasionally heard is Namjoon’s bewildered scoffs and muttered comments. The other two know better than to cut the thin thread they’re all clutching onto.

But the chop comes, and it’s Iseul’s voice breaking the silence, soft and tentative, “You know, we’re all here to have fun. Can we just… try to get along for a little while?”

Eunbi has to bite her tongue. Otherwise, she fears any words that might leave her lips could permanently push Iseul away from the already slim possibility of them becoming friends. She keeps her eyes closed, a long exhale escaping her lips, irritation flaring up at the simplicity of the comment. As if it hadn’t already crossed her mind that they should be getting along. What a genius idea, truly.

Jeongguk seems to notice the tense silence that follows, especially the tightness in Eunbi’s expression and how Iseul’s well-meaning comment has only added fuel to the fire. He turns to his companion and offers her a reassuring smile, even if it feels a bit forced, “It’s okay, Isu. Let’s just head back.” His tone is gentle, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere, the nod that accompanies it recognising her effort, as well as its effective uselessness.

Taking in Jeongguk’s unnecessary, oversweet tone towards the other girl involuntarily causes Eunbi to scoff audibly, the sound loud and deliberate, followed by nothing. She keeps her gaze fixed on the water, refusing to look at either of them. But she feels Jeongguk’s narrowed eyes on her, “What now?”

”Nothing,” Eunbi mutters, the sarcasm in her tone cutting through the air. “Just love how you can turn on the charm when it suits you.”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightens for what feels like the nth time, fearing a possible cramp soon affecting the muscles of his mouth, but he keeps his response measured, “I’m just trying to not make this worse.”

A fake coo follows, Eunbi’s voice mockingly replicating his sudden calmness, “Oh, how nice of you, Ggukkie.”

“For the love of God, will you two drop it? Please?” Namjoon’s frustrated groan interrupts once again the bickering from stretching on, his patience truly at its limit. He increases the pace of his rowing, as if trying to physically distance himself from the scene.

The uncomfortable silence lingers for the rest of the paddling back, and it stretches on endlessly, mirroring the distance they’ve travelled in their pointless, self-inflicted race. If it isn’t the consequences of their own stupid actions. Eunbi dips her paddle in the water with more intention, fixating on the ripples spread out from each stroke, refusing to meet Namjoon’s annoyed gaze. She’s ashamed of the way she’s let her emotions and bottled up feelings rule a situation that could have been easily avoided, though she stubbornly refuses to fully acknowledge it, let alone admit that she might be in the wrong.

Still, Eunbi uses the time it gets to reach the shore to work on her breathing, counting every pause between her exhales, willing to free her mind from the chaotic flow of thoughts before she regrets letting them cling to her like a shadow and cause a bigger scene. The sight of the land approaching should bring some relief, but instead it only amplifies the sense of urgency gnawing at her. The moment the canoe nudges against the land, the sun beginning its descent, bathing the landscape in a warm light, Eunbi wastes no time making herself aware of her surroundings, as she’s already on her feet, moving with a speed that betrays her desperation to escape the tension that’s been suffocating her.

She’s unsteady as she steps out, the ground feeling oddly solid beneath her after the wobbly rhythm of the canoe. Namjoon notices her haste and instinctively reaches out to steady her, but she’s stepping away, her shoes sinking into the damp shore.

”I’m going back to the campsite,” Eunbi says, her voice clipped, the words barely more than a whisper after the raw shouting followed by complete muteness.

Namjoon, still seated, frowns as he looks up at her. Concern clouds his features, and he’s quick to offer, “Wait for me, I’ll take you back.”

Eunbi shakes her head, her refusal as gentle as it is resolute. A tight-lipped smile plays on her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You should stay and enjoy the rest of the day.”

There’s a sheepish, unspoken apology written in her eyes, a fleeting look of regret that she’s too proud to voice. She unconsciously scrunches her nose, a telltale sign of her lingering embarrassment, and doesn’t even register Namjoon’s nod as she turns to start walking, eager to put distance between herself and the situation, but mostly from Jeongguk’s attentive eyes still throwing jabs her way.

As she walks back to the tents, Eunbi’s mind is already racing ahead to dinner. It’s been her biggest concern for a while now, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach, an instinctive dread that tonight will go as badly as she fears. Dinner always seems to bring out the worst in them, the frustration of the day simmering just below the surface until it boils over and erupts in sharp words and bitter exchanges. She can feel that exact feeling brewing dangerously in her stomach, but she knows she’d rather suppress it than have it consume her completely only for more pieces of her heart to break.

Dropping onto one of the deck chairs around the campsite, she waits for it to dissipate with her knees up to her chest. It’s hard at first, the sudden quiet too loud and overwhelming her with the pent up exasperation from today. It only fuels that part of her that still hasn’t moved on from the very first night, the one that set the tone for everything that followed, who harbours anger and spite for what Jeongguk had spat in her face with apparently no remorse. She wants to get back at him, to make him regret those words, to hurt him as much as he’s hurt her. But the bigger, remaining part of her knows she’s already done enough of that.

Would it even be worthy? What would she gain from it? Would getting back at Jeongguk truly bring her any peace, or would it only deepen the rift between them? She knows the answer, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Normally, she wouldn’t let any other person get away so easily with such a comment, but with Jeongguk, she’s aware he has lived with worse feelings for years, and that probably isn’t even the worst of what his heart holds. She’s not ready to wake that monster. Doesn’t know if she’s prepared to confront the truth behind the look he gives her. Doesn’t want to know if that truth is dictated by resentment, or if it’s all that’s left of her in Jeongguk’s view. Because if she’s honest with herself, no matter how angry she is, she can’t deny that she understands why he feels this way. And that understanding, more than anything, is what terrifies her the most.

Hours slip by in a blur, Eunbi stilling on her chair and giving space for her thoughts to unleash before it’s too late to put a collar back on again. The sun continues its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and when it dips down the horizon, the campfire that has been just a pile of logs earlier is now crackling with life, its warmth spreading through the group as they gather for dinner. The smell of grilled food wafts through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest and the cool breeze.

It’s a comforting atmosphere, one that’s filled with laughter and easy conversation, but Eunbi is yet to be shaken out her trance to realise none of what she fears is reflecting in the reality surrounding her. Only when Dahye finds a spot on the seat next to hers and launches into a breathless retelling of apparently the craziest experience she’s had so far during the trip earlier at the river, Eunbi reconnects with the present, and disconnects from the almost maniac way she’s been analysing her thoughts alone all evening.

As she follows Dahye’s lips moving, acknowledging her with small nods and chuckles that the storytelling gets out of her, she finds she’s been making one huge mistake all this while. She’s always been so wrapped up in her own fears, her need to control the narrative and anticipate the next emotional blow, that she’s missed the simple reality of what’s unfolding around her. The night easily moves forward without the weight of her expectations pressing down on it.

Maybe she doesn’t have to anticipate every move, every subtle shift in the atmosphere. Maybe she doesn’t have to keep trying to predict what Jeongguk might say or how the night might fall apart. For the first time, she lets herself be present— really present. She lets herself feel the warmth of the fire, hear the laughter of her friends without reading too much into it, lets herself stop preparing for a storm that isn’t coming.

There’s a quiet revelation in that. Tonight, she doesn’t want to brace herself for another argument or another disappointment. She can simply allow the peace of the moment to wash over her, instead of waiting for the worse. And by the time the stars are twinkling overhead and her tummy is full, she allows herself to let go of the anger and just be.

It’s when they start another one of their games that she fully lets her guard down and doesn’t focus on anything in particular, just how genuine her laughs resound in her own ears. Once again, it’s Jimin suggesting it, eyes twinkling, “How about a story-telling challenge? We each say one line and keep the story going around the circle.”

Eunbi chuckles and nods, feeling a flicker of excitement at the idea. It’s been a while since she’s done something as silly and spontaneous. They all shuffle closer, forming a tight circle around the fire, the flickering flames dancing in their eyes. Taehyung starts them off, his voice solemn as he leans in, “Once upon a time, in a forest much like this one, there was a squirrel who could sing opera.”

It’s impossible to keep straight faces at first, but they all try. The mock-seriousness in Taehyung’s tone only makes it funnier, and the story takes off from there, spiralling into absurdity. Hoseok follows up, voice filled with faux sorrow, “And this squirrel, right? He had a tragic backstory. He lost his most precious acorn in a dramatic flood.”

The more the tale escalates, the more their giggles can’t be stopped, with the squirrel also being a secret agent for a woodland spy network side by side with his best friend, a tap-dancing raccoon who dreamed of opening a dance studio in the big city. Seokjin adds that the talented animal was also training to perform in a world-renowned animal talent show, but was being sabotaged by a jealous porcupine who could juggle flaming pinecones.

Yoongi, usually the voice of reason, surprisingly leans into the layers of idiocy rather than trying to steer it back to some semblance of order, “The porcupine is actually being helped by an evil ninja rabbit who only speaks in riddles.” His voice carries a playful tone, and Eunbi can’t help but reflect his same look on her own face— unforced, genuine.

The fire crackles louder in response, almost as if laughing along with them and cheering them on. By the time the story comes back around to Jimin, he leans in with a grin caught up in the fun, “And then! The raccoon finally achieves his dream of opening a dance school in the city where all the animals can learn tap-dancing and perform in the biggest talent show ever.”

There’s a beat of silence before they all burst out laughing again, though this time it’s mixed with good-natured teasing. Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head, “Okay, now you’re just projecting.“

Hoseok, grinning from ear to ear, chimes in, “Yeah, come on, you’re turning this into your own personal dream story.”

Taehyung, never missing a beat, adds, “Next thing you know, you’ll have the raccoon choreographing the whole animal kingdom.”

The teasing banter continues, the group’s laughter bouncing off the trees. But Eunbi, still a little out of sync with their inside jokes, blinks in confusion, “Wait, what? What do you mean, reflecting yourself?”

The laughter fades, and Jimin turns to her, a bit of a sheepish grin on his face, “Oh, it’s just… I’ve always loved dancing. It’s been a silly dream of mine to— you know, maybe open a dance studio when I’m older.”

Eunbi’s eyes widen, genuine surprise lighting her features, “Wow, I had no idea. That’s so cool, Jimin! Seriously, I didn’t know that about you.”

There’s a brief, awkward pause, in which Jimin’s smile softens at her reaction, but before he can say anything more, Jeongguk scoffs audibly. The sound cuts through the moment like a sharp blade. He’s leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowing at Eunbi with something between disdain and frustration but his tone unbothered, “That’s basic Jimin knowledge. Everyone knows that.”

Once again, Eunbi couldn’t have anticipated Jeongguk being on a completely different agenda. She should have known, she’s aware of that. But she hadn’t wanted to. She only wanted to go by the foolish belief that tonight would be different. That just for one evening they could coexist in the same space, be civil, even share a laugh.

It was a naive hope. And now, standing crosshairs of Jeongguk’s fiery glaze, not only with the glow of the flames, she realises just how mistaken she’s been. How stupid it was of her to think Jeongguk wouldn’t jump at the possibility of adding fuel to the fire. Because, right now, she finds herself utterly unprepared to read his clenched jaw, contrasting with the careless, almost indifferent posture he tries to maintain. She struggles to predict how it might develop if she uses a slightly different tone, or takes more time to respond.

She doesn’t remember moving around Jeongguk ever being this difficult. The physical closeness forced upon them by this trip only makes the emotional distance between them more glaring. They might be sitting around the same campfire, but it’s clear from the way he bristles at her every word, every gesture, that in Jeongguk’s mind, she’s universes away. And it’s exactly where he wants her to stay. No spaceship will bring her back. There’s nowhere she can land on his planet.

Eunbi’s exhaustion reaches its breaking point. She’s tired of pretending she’s okay with this. Fed up with letting remorse gnaw at her insides and reduce her to a punching bag for his barely-contained rage. Willing to take every fist thrown her way, rendering her vulnerable to his every attempt at breaking her down. Though what she feels is not resentment. It’s pure, bone-deep weariness. She doesn’t want to take this tug of war any further. If letting go of the idea of fixing things between them is what he wants, she’ll give him that.

With a sigh, she lowers her gaze to her hands for a moment, her fingers twitching unconsciously. Time and time again, she’s the reason why the group can’t go a few hours without being drawn into their venomous war.

Her eyes glisten with shame and helplessness as she looks back up, her voice reflecting anything but that weakness, its sharp and snappy tone overtaking the crackling fire, “What is your problem?”

Differently from the silence that stretched on after the unnecessary jab caught her by surprise, each second going by the ticks of a bomb ready to explode and wipe out the frivolity of the night, Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even give her the courtesy of pretending to think it over. His response comes swiftly, harshly, as if he’s been waiting for the question all night, “My problem? My problem is that you’re here.”

Eunbi can’t help but scoff. It’s not meant to be arrogant, nor mocking. It’s almost an instinctive reaction, a defence mechanism against the disbelief that rises in her throat. Her words drip with sarcasm, though her voice remains calm, “Oh, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you with the others.”

Jeongguk’s gaze is steady, unwavering, and his next words land like a punch to the gut, “Well, you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be here.”

Though she can say she’s gotten better at enduring, it still stings. None of that shows on her face, unflinching, neutral. A biting smile tugs at her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “Trust me, I know.”

There’s a pause— one brief, agonising moment where she thinks maybe, just maybe, this is still part of their aimless bickering that has been going on the past two days, a spat that will blow over.

But then Jeongguk speaks again, and his voice is so distant it’s even hard to hear him clearly, “I hope you do. You don’t belong here.”

Silence stretches on, the fire crackling softly the only sound between them. She’s sure everyone has stopped breathing, their exhales stuck up in their throat, afraid of releasing them, of stepping foot into something that doesn’t concern them.

Jeongguk’s eyes never leave hers, the coldness in them piercing through the thin veil of pretence they’ve both been clinging to. He doesn’t stop there, his voice deathly quiet, “Not with me. Not with the others. Can’t you see that?”

Eunbi’s heart lurches. She thinks she would prefer being called every name in the book. Have Jeongguk spit at her for all the pain she put him through. Say anything he wants about her being an awful person. But he knows just how to twist the knife. Still knows how to read her every faltering step, the doubts behind her eyes, the insecurities plaguing her mind. Surely, he also still knows how to be the one feeding her the desperate acceptance she needs, the assurance that none of her fears are true. So many times Jeongguk was there to swear she’s loved; that she wouldn’t be left alone ever again.

But now, he decides to use all that knowledge to spin it against her, to push all the right buttons that he knows will hurt her most. She doesn’t belong here. It’s what her mind has whispered to her over and over again since she stepped foot in his sacred circle, an outsider next to Dahye. She has been good at ignoring those hushed tones, to convince herself they’re lies. That these people are her friends, and they all see her as part of the group. That her fears were unfounded.

The proof her haunting thoughts have been right all along is in front of her though, and it presses down on her chest. It’s too much— too raw, too real. She should have seen it coming, but she’s still speechless. Her throat tight, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Though she refuses to let them fall for eleven pairs of eyes to watch. For his eyes to glow with satisfaction.

Eunbi manages to laugh bitterly, though the sound is hollow, “Right. Well, thanks for making it clear.” With her hands trembling slightly, hiding it by clenching them into fists at her sides, she pushes herself to her feet, “I’ll go now. Enjoy your night. Asshole.”

Her voice wavering on the last word, Eunbi turns and walks away from the fire, the warmth of it barely touching her anymore. She doesn’t let herself falter as she heads toward her tent, her footsteps hurried, the chill of the night settling in around her.

And as she shields herself from the outside world, its sounds accompanied by the group’s muttered voices escalating with agitation, words she won’t try to register, she doesn’t bother giving herself a headache trying to hold the tears in. This time, she lets them spill over freely, each one carrying the weight of every single one of her fears. She keeps the sobs in her chest, whimpering with the signals of panic taking over. And now more than ever, she really wishes she just wasn’t here.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When it comes to this time of the year, Jeongguk inevitably becomes the worst version of himself. It’s a cruel irony that it all resurfaces right as his birthday approaches. It’s been that way for years now. In the beginning, when he was still in Busan, he found it hard to blow the candles on his cake without his shoulders feeling heavy, his eyes involuntarily searching for someone that was no longer there; with the unanswered questions dulling the sounds around, leaving him desensitised to the love so blatantly in front of him.

It took him a while to accept it, even with a missing spot unfilled. Jeongguk has never been good with changes. Has always lived by an unwavering, straight path on which he walked confidently, jumping over the cracks on the ground and ignoring any turns. The only deviation he allowed was the one that led him to Seoul. It was a long wait before the stoplight turned green, his own doubts plaguing him even with his parents’ encouragement; and when it did, he crossed the road alone reluctantly, glancing back more than once.

Jeongguk found that this lane was a little less preserved and far less predictable than the one he took his very first steps on. It was full of bumps, a lot of them causing him to trip and fall face first into the concrete. So many dead ends that forced him to make a choice, left or right. But on those same streets, he also recognised elements from the previous block: his love for filmography, the very reason he came to the capital; his mom’s goodnight tune, even over the phone; his thick Busan accent, instantly mirrored into Jimin’s own; the creeping dread as his birthday approached.

There are things he never fully got over, and every year, when August rushes to an end and September looms, he becomes highly aware of it. But over time, he’s learned to live with it. The questions that once consumed him have no answers, and he came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t help what happened. What he’s always had control over, however, was the small key to an even smaller room in his brain, where with great effort he locked Eunbi away once he turned 17.

She tried to break free multiple times, banging on the door and begging to be let out. Jeongguk even had to get maintenance on the lock. Eventually she quieted down, and only ever stirred whenever she knew September was coming from the little calendar she had hung up in the cramped space.

Jeongguk learned to handle it. The memories were still alive, but they didn’t hurt him the way they used to. They felt distant, resurfacing only when he himself noticed the final days of August being crossed on his own calendar. Using a red marker to draw those lines, his fingers still tingled with something close to familiar uneasiness. Sometimes, if it managed to spread to his whole body, it would overtake him, and in the days leading up to his birthday he’d snap more easily, feel more irritated.

But he’d gotten better at controlling it. Last year, his first time turning a year older in a place that wasn’t Busan, he didn’t even feel it. It might have been all the new, shiny people surrounding him in the small flat he was renting with Jimin, the fresh adrenaline from making sure he was feeding his friends with a fun time clouding every other thought. Back in that room, Eunbi peacefully slept through the entirety of it. Even forgot to wish him a happy birthday.

With the real Eunbi physically standing in front of him, all of Jeongguk’s efforts to keep her locked away shattered in one, insignificant instant. It only took a snap of the little-version-of-her in his brain for every wall he’d meticulously built to come crashing down. The door he had so carefully sealed off was now flung open, and little Eunbi burst through, running wild, mingling with thoughts she had no business messing with and wreaking havoc on all those parts of his mind that had been closed off, at least until that moment.

Behind her, an unstoppable flood of emotions he’d long buried surged in, filling his mind until it couldn’t hold any more. It spread to his chest, his heart straining under the weight of everything he didn’t want to feel. Little Eunbi, with her hair still short, worn bermudas, and a t-shirt stained with yellow paint, revelled in the chaos she was causing. She jumped and skipped back and forth between his brain and his heart, completely at ease, her presence so familiar yet entirely out of place. She seemed to enjoy every second of it.

And Jeongguk grew more and more unnerved by that. Little Eunbi was different from the Eunbi that avoided his gaze and awkwardly bowed. The latter had her hair longer, with short bangs softly brushing over her brows, her hands neatly manicured and her clothes spotless. She stood there, straight and put-together, a polished version of the girl who once got dirt all over herself and laughed too loud.

But what probably made him madder was that the more Eunbi started to find her place within the group, the more that seemingly dead part of her began to re-emerge, inching its way back into his life. It was like watching a ghost regain its form, piece by piece. The Eunbi he thought he had locked away was starting to blur with the present Eunbi, and every time she laughed it reminded him of how easy things had once been between them, back when her presence hadn’t been a thorn in his side but a constant comfort. Now, that sound twisted something deep in his chest, something he had long buried under layers of hurt and distance.

What frustrated him even more was that Eunbi seemed completely oblivious to it all. The way she eased into the group, gaining their acceptance, was infuriating. It was as if the distance between them meant nothing to her, as if she could waltz back into his life without consequence. The more they welcomed her, the more that old familiarity surfaced. She was becoming Eunbi again— the Eunbi who had once mattered. And that thought made his stomach churn.

It twisted even further when he found himself unconsciously reading into her every move. His knowledge of her, the way she used to be, crept into his mind without his consent, and he began to analyse her behaviour, picking apart her words and actions. It was almost instinctive, the way he could still understand her, still anticipate her moods. It only ended up poisoning him, because he soon realised those smiles — those little moments of reconnection to the past — were never directed at him. He could recognise her in the eyes of his friends, but never in his own.

Did she even care about what had happened between them? Did she think she could simply move on like none of it had affected him? Did she ever realise how deep those cracks still ran, or was he the only one haunted by the weight of their past?

At first, he forced the frustration to only translate into indifference. Bitter coldness. Not paying her presence too much mind, but still making sure she could feel his resentment dangerously tipping over the edge, and threatening to trip at any minute.

But the combination of his birthday approaching and Eunbi wandering around his space as if nothing ever happened caused the explosion. The rancorous version of himself, the one he thought he managed to successfully bury, now fought its way to the surface and dragged him back to square one: a freshly 16 years old Jeongguk with a freshly broken trust.

The intensity of those emotions hit him like a tidal wave, the kind that leaves you breathless, unable to distinguish between up and down. It wasn’t just anger. It was cold betrayal, and the sight of her, standing there so effortlessly among his friends on his birthday trip, made his skin prickle with irritation. Eunbi had slid into their plans with such ease, as if she belonged, and it was ironic considering she hadn’t even wanted to be in the same car as him.

Jeongguk only needed that last, littlest drop to fall, and with it, every ounce of restraint he had left evaporated. The thin thread of control he’d been clinging to snapped. He had thought he’d moved on, convinced himself that enough time had passed for him to handle her presence with maturity.

But he was wrong. Time hadn’t healed him like he’d hoped. Instead, it had just let the bitterness fester until now. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold himself back. The more he watched her fit in so naturally, laughing at someone’s joke or sharing a quiet moment by the fire, the more the frustration swelled in his chest. It was infuriating that she could act so unfazed, go up to him with a smile he has always recognised too well as if nothing ever was.

He didn’t even realise how tight the grip on his own emotions had been, until they were flooding out of him all at once. Jeongguk felt the words rising in his throat before he could stop them, the resentment spilling over like poison. And now he can feel the control slipping, the pain rushing to the surface like a dam had burst inside him. It’s almost addicting, even when his mind screams at him to stop, to take a breath. But his heart, the part of him still broken from all that time ago, drives him forward.

He needs her to feel it, needs it to be reflected in her eyes. This is what he’d been holding back for so long. This is the pain she’d left him with, and now he’s finally giving it back to her, forcing her to carry some of the weight. He isn’t the only one hurting anymore.

Each word that leaves his mouth is laced with venom, and he watches, wavering between satisfaction and regret, as they hit their target. Her eyes always widen slightly, the smallest flinch in her expression betraying her shock. For a second, he thinks he sees the cracks forming—tiny fissures in that calm, polished exterior she’d put on.

But the more he watches her crumble, the more he feels the bitter taste of victory sour in his mouth. There’s a part of him that hates what he’s doing. Hates that he has become the kind of person who lashes out like this, who takes pleasure in someone else’s pain. Especially hers. It’s like he’s caught in this vicious cycle of wanting to keep his distance but also wanting her attention. And the only way to get that is by hurting her before he himself can process his own hurt through different lenses.

Jeongguk knows he’s being unfair, but something in him can’t let it go. He‘s still simmering with unresolved anger, but there’s also a gnawing guilt, a nagging voice in his head telling him he’s pushing her too far, too hard. Last night, her eyes glossy with tears, he felt the pang that usually followed unleashing his poisonous words hit harder in his chest. He had picked his script with purpose, knowing exactly where to aim, only to shoot hard and leave her lifeless. She fought through the end to get her breaths out, until she couldn’t. Jeongguk waited for the sense of triumph to wash over him, but it never did.

Instead, her fragile figure retreating only after a weak attempt at returning even the smallest amount of the hurt she felt, Jeongguk still felt heavy. Heavy with remorse and guilt. Heavy with the pressure reflected in his friends’ eyes. And he couldn’t handle that. He stood up shortly after Eunbi left, his brain refusing to internalise Dahye’s affront and the group’s deafening silence.

Hours later, Jeongguk lies wide awake, his eyes staring into the void of the tent. He hasn’t been able to keep them shut for more than a minute, his mind a battlefield. He finds it’s impossible to resonate between the insatiable desire for revenge and the exhaustion rendering him numb to any possibility of feeding that need. There’s a part of him that just wants peace.

Glancing to his side, Jimin and Taehyung sleep soundly in the cramped space, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside him. Neither of them had wanted to dive too deep into what happened, the spat words, the irrational rage constantly taking over their younger friend and keeping him stuck between fight and flight with no escape. Jimin only offered a soft pat on the shoulder and his warmest smile, “It’ll be okay, Jeonggukkie. Let’s just sleep now, hm?”

Jeongguk wishes it could have been as simple as Jimin made it sound. For his friends, it was. They both fell asleep without trouble, and Jeongguk is grateful for that. At least two out of three of them were getting the rest they deserved. Still, he’s careful not to wake them while he quietly slips out of the tent.

The early morning air is crisp, biting at his skin, but the sensation is grounding. Dawn is just beginning to break, soft light spilling over the horizon and casting everything in a faint glow. The quiet sounds of nature surround him, and though they don’t quite ease the weight in his chest, they provide a temporary lull. It’s the cool air caressing his face and threading through his hair that brings some sort of order.

His thoughts start to settle. They don’t feel like a stadium of shouting voices anymore. The yells quiet down and he’s able to sift through them now, picking each one apart, giving himself the space to breathe. It’s not perfect, but it’s better. He feels like he can move past this— if not for his own sake, then for the sake of the others.

Still, there’s one thought that refuses to be silenced. One question that lingers just beneath the surface, gnawing at the edges of his justified anger. It’s persistent, creeping into his mind with every inhale. Why does hurting her hurt him too?

It seems like the simplest of questions, but Jeongguk refuses to accept what appears to be the answer. It sits there, plain as day, yet he pushes it away. He doesn’t want to keep dissecting it, turning it over and over in his mind, trying to find any other plausible way out, but he can’t help himself. His thoughts spiral, stretching the minutes into what feels like eternity, until he loses track of time altogether. He zones out so deeply that when he finally snaps back, it’s only because the quiet sound of a tent zipper reaches his ears, followed by Hoseok’s hesitant head poking out.

Jeongguk blinks, suddenly aware that he’s been sitting in the same spot, on the same chair, staring at the same patch of dirt for who knows how long. Hours, at least. His body feels stiff, his mind trapped in an endless loop. He wonders if he’s lost his ability to pull himself out of this mental prison, if this is it. He’s stuck. His birthday is less than 24 hours away, and he’s more miserable than he’s been in months.

His chest tightens when he sees Hoseok walking toward him. Panic rises swiftly, because Hoseok had witnessed last night’s disaster. They all had. His hands clench into fists, his orbs trembling as doubt swarms his mind. Did he ruin the entire trip for everyone? Is the tension in the air his fault? Is he the cause of the awkward silence that lingered after he tore Eunbi apart with his words? Do they hate—

“Jeonggukkie? You okay?”

The softness in Hoseok’s tone almost makes Jeongguk flinch. It’s so gentle, filled with concern, and for a moment he questions everything he’s been telling himself. If Hoseok hated him, if any of them did, he wouldn’t be standing here now, looking at him with such care in his eyes.

Jeongguk only nods in response, the tension in his shoulders unwinding just a little as his older friend’s face softens into a sweet smile. There’s no judgement, no condemnation. Just quiet understanding. He waits in the lingering silence as Hoseok moves to freshen up. The moment he returns, settling into one of the chairs nearby, Jeongguk feels a sudden urge to speak clawing at his throat. He knows if he doesn’t start talking, the weight of the trap of his own mind will tighten around him again. So he talks, talks and talks about anything that doesn’t resemble the doom he was slipping into.

He’s a fugitive from his thoughts, and he keeps running even when more of the others join the small circle in the middle of the campsite. None of them seem to look at Jeongguk differently, the jokes flowing naturally as small laughs fill the quiet morning. It’s as if everything is as it should be, and he feels himself ease back into composure. Though, the guilt still lingers, heavy and unshakable. He ignores it.

The sun climbs higher in the sky, casting light above them and providing Jeongguk with warmth that he stores in his chest. He gets more of that from his friends’ smiles and the excitement flowing energetically out of them as Hoseok explains they’ll be cycling today, crossing scenic paths that round the campsite.

He watches as they all gather, geeking about today’s activity and stuffing their faces with as much food as they can get their hands on. The topic soon shifts to his birthday, which Jeongguk is particularly dreading. They’re already planning to get him wasted tonight, and the boy chuckles softly, though his laughter is hesitant, distracted.

His gaze keeps drifting to the one tent that hasn’t opened yet, the only place that remains closed off to the rest of the group. The only two people missing from their little circle haven’t joined yet, and it’s hard for Jeongguk to ignore that. To ignore her.

With more minutes going by and the tent unmoving, remaining still and almost mocking in its silence, he finds it even harder to focus on the laughter and the lightness of the morning. The world outside his head seems to move on without him, blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside him. On one side, he’s relieved that the attention has shifted away from him, that the day can unfold even without him being fully present. But that same realisation makes him feel like he’s teetering on the edge, dangerously close to falling back into the prison of his own thoughts.

Oblivious to it, his inner struggle is written all over his face, clear as day to anyone who cares enough to look. And Jimin notices right away. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches out to gently caress Jeongguk’s shoulder, the touch so light that the brown haired boy startles slightly before meeting his friend’s gaze. Jimin’s face is soft, a sweet smile tugging at his lips as he tilts his head, “Something on your mind?”

His tone is gentle, almost knowing. Jeongguk shakes his head, brushing off the concern, but his eyes flicker, and his own body betrays him when he instinctively turns once again to check for any movement from the tent. The subtle action doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde, who hums and makes the other boy sigh wearily, an excuse ready on his lips, “I just haven’t had much sleep.”

“Why don’t you go call Eunbi and Dahye? They probably won’t get to have breakfast if we’re leaving soon.” Jimin’s suggestion comes with caution but it strikes a chord.

Jeongguk stares at his friend, though it feels more like he’s staring through him. The words hang in the air as he zones out, weighing his options. He doesn’t want them to miss breakfast, sure. And part of him just wants to check on them, to make sure they’re okay. Breathing, alive. Yeah, that’s it.

But a question lingers: is he ready to face Eunbi so directly? The task sounds simple enough—just call them over, remind them they’ll have to leave soon for the day’s plans. But the weight of last night still clings to him. What if he hasn’t recovered from the poison he spat? What if that anger rises up, unprovoked, and spills out again? Worse, what if he can’t say anything at all? Or what if Eunbi sees him and returns all the evil, even stronger and sharper? What if she hits back harder and he’s left bleeding on the ground?

The furious speed at which his thoughts churn makes Jeongguk’s head spin, a relentless loop that threatens to overtake him, before the weight on his lap pulls him back. He glances down to see a plate of food resting there—some leftovers from breakfast. When he looks back at his friend, Jimin’s gaze is comforting, “You could bring them this and check if they’re okay with leaving in 30 minutes, hm?”

Jimin is crouching beside him, eyes soft but knowing, not pushing or pressing for anything, but somehow encouraging him all the same. The reassurance he finds in his gaze is enough for Jeongguk. His rushed thought process slows down, and he has room to realise he was only letting irrational panic speak. There’s no reason why any of those scenarios and possible outcomes could roll out only from calling his friends (well, his friend and… Eunbi) over for breakfast.

Jeongguk nods as he stands, his movements stiff at first, his hands clutching the plate tightly. Even with the knowledge he doesn’t have to necessarily address Eunbi, each step toward the tent feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world. The ground beneath him crunches softly, and his heart unreasonably picks up. The idea of simply facing her makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want to accept it, but it’s guilt that’s causing that.

He’s so consumed by trying to chase away his own thoughts he doesn’t immediately register he’s close enough now that he can see the outline of the closed tent flap. It takes him even more to discern the sounds coming from inside. At first, it’s just a faint noise—muffled, almost unintelligible.

But as he draws closer, it becomes clearer. His steps falter. Another second goes by before he places it, and then it hits him like a punch to the gut. Eunbi is crying.

Jeongguk’s body tenses. No, she’s sobbing. It feels like someone’s wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed. Her words are barely comprehensible, choked-out syllables and pleading whispers. He can make out enough to know that she’s begging, almost desperately, for Dahye to take her away from here.

Jeongguk freezes, paralyzed by the intensity of each of her desperate gasps. The world around him fades. The raw sound of her pain consumes him, and it cuts through him in ways he didn’t anticipate. He had wanted this, hadn’t he? He had wanted to hurt her, to see her broken, see her exactly like this. He had succeeded. He thought it would somehow bring him peace, make things right. Then why does each sob that escapes her build a shattering pressure in his chest?

It all ended up feeling wrong. As if he’s the one falling apart, the one who can’t catch his breath. Her grief echoes in him, breaking pieces inside he thought were long buried. There’s that gnawing guilt, eating away at the anger he had used to justify everything.

With the cries growing louder in his ears, he finds an answer as to why it hurts to hurt her. And it’s a persistent whisper he can no longer ignore.

Jeongguk struggles. He struggles to process it all, his senses slow. He doesn’t know whether to walk away or step closer. His head is screaming at him to move, to do something, but his body won’t listen.

It takes him another moment to realise that Dahye is moving inside the tent, her voice low and soothing as she tries to comfort Eunbi. Then, the tent flap rustles, and Dahye steps out. The moment her eyes land on him, her expression shifts, hardening with disappointment that sends a new wave of guilt crashing into him.

“You really fucked up this time.” She doesn’t bother to hide what seemed to only paint her features seconds ago. Jeongguk is left momentarily stunned, even more with her shoulder brushing against his as she walks past him. It’s suddenly too fast, and he can’t bring himself to respond, can’t find the words to defend himself or apologise.

His gaze falls down in an attempt to regain control over his actions, but as he searches for something, anything, to ground him he notices that the tent is left slightly open. Through the small gap, he can only see darkness and make out the quiet sniffles coming from Eunbi. His body stills, the sound only worsening the mess of thoughts crashing into each other.

One realisation sends a fresh wave of panic through him. Eunbi can see him. She knows he’s there, standing. Doing nothing, even while she cries. The jolt rushes all through his muscles this time, travelling from his brain, and it’s enough to finally get him to move.

Jeongguk takes a shaky step back, only to turn around fast when he’s met with a possibility he doesn’t want to confront. If he sees her face — red, tear-streaked, her eyes swollen from crying — he doubts he’d be able to handle it. Handle the sight of the pain that he caused. He’s sure he’d lose whatever fragile control he has left. He’s already on the brink of breaking just from hearing her. Seeing her like that would undo him completely.

As he retreats, the weight of everything he’s done settles in. He wonders if they’ve reached a point of no coming back. The hurt is too deep, the damage too irreversible. And for the first time, even the foolish kid inside him, the one that still craves for his Dal, wonders if they’ll ever be able to find their way back to each other. The bridge between them feels burned, reduced to ashes, and he’s terrified that there’s no rebuilding it. It’s falling apart for good.

It’s impossible for Jeongguk to keep the dread eating at his insides from showing on his face. It betrays him, every ounce of regret etched plainly across his features. He reluctantly lifts up his gaze. Especially when he’s met with Jimin’s concerned one, the pity there making his stomach twist even tighter, and Dahye’s flaring eyes cutting through him like daggers.

Eunbi steps out shortly after. She moves quietly, almost too quietly, as if she’s trying to blend and disappear into the air. He can immediately tell that she’s made an effort to mask the misery, the makeup she’s wearing is heavier than usual. Too much in places that don’t need it. A shield against him.

But he refuses to let himself look at her for too long. His eyes flit away before he’s forced to see too much. Before the truths he runs from hit him square in the face, before he’s able to discern the words that should be spoken but remain unsaid.

Once again, he lets his doubts speak louder than reason. He convinces himself that all of his friends are against him, that they’re watching him with eyes full of judgement. They’re at his throat, ready to pounce, ready to pin all the blame on him. He can almost feel their fingers pointing in his direction, like they’ve already made up their minds. He’s the guilty one. He’s the tainted, selfish asshole who ruins everything.

That’s why Jeongguk cycles slowly, deliberately hanging back, lagging behind the rest of the group. He can’t bear to meet their eyes, to force himself into their light-hearted mood. He doesn’t feel like belonging there, right now. It feels like he’s on the outside looking in, like he’s forgotten what it means to just feel at peace.

So, he keeps his distance. It’s easier to stay where it’s quiet. Where he doesn’t have to put up an act or force himself to be present. The silence feels more like a refuge than loneliness, a momentary escape from the relentless noise in his mind.

In front of him, Eunbi cycles just as slowly. They’re both drifting behind the group, caught in their own separate orbits, not really blending with the others. Jeongguk unconsciously fixates on the steady rhythm of her bike wheels, the way they spin effortlessly, guiding her along the path. It’s a repeated, ceaseless action that serves as a temporary anchor to avoid sinking under.

Without meaning to, he finds himself mimicking their speed, gradually inching closer to her, his bike mirroring the pace of her wheels. The space between them narrows, and when he notices it, he pulls back slightly. Only to repeat the same motion moments later, closing the gap again. And again. It’s like he’s automatically attracted to the movement, which unintentionally draws him to her.

It’s Eunbi’s weary sigh cutting through the soft hum of the tires against the ground that snaps him out of that mindless trance, the one that had briefly distracted him from the darker thoughts creeping at the edges of his brain, “Can you stop doing that?”

Her voice, edged with irritation, breaks through the fog in his head. Jeongguk stills, confused, not even realising what she meant. He hums questioningly, his brows furrowing.

“I’m not in the mood for a race,” she mutters, not even looking back at him, her tone flat but tinged with weariness.

Jeongguk blinks, caught off guard, and he feels a flash of defensiveness rise up before he can stop it, “I— I wasn’t—”

“Whatever.” She cuts him off, sounding more tired than angry, “I just feel... anxious knowing you’re— there. Behind me. Please, just go ahead.”

The words strike him harder than they should, hitting him in a place he doesn’t want to acknowledge. They settle deep, mingling with guilt and frustration. Her voice, so casual yet heavy with discomfort, only stirs up the irrational anger that always seems to bubble up whenever they interact, the same one that brought them to this breaking point.

Before he can stop himself, he bites back, “Oh, now you’re the one feeling anxious.”

Eunbi’s shoulders stiffen, and her words shake with fatigue, begging once again, “Please, I don’t wanna start this again.”

“We’re not starting anything,” Jeongguk snaps back, his tone biting despite himself. Even he doesn’t believe it. It always feels like they’re on the verge of starting something, like every word is a match waiting to spark.

This time, she whips her head to look at him over her shoulder, her voice rising as her patience thins, “Oh, really? Then what is th—”

The words die in her throat as her bike catches on something, and in an instant, she’s thrown forward. She’s sent tumbling on the ground, her body skidding against the rocky surface, the harsh sound of scraping skin filling the air as her hands and knees are victim to the fall.

Jeongguk’s heart drops. The fragile tension between them shatters, and his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t think—he just reacts. “Dal!”

Before he knows it, panic overtakes him and he’s off his bike in a flash, letting it crash behind him as he rushes to her side. His voice shakes when he kneels beside her, the name escaping him again, raw and urgent.

Eunbi is sprawled on the ground, dirt smudged across her skin, her hands trembling as they try to push her own body up. Jeongguk immediately detects the blood seeping from the cuts on her knees, then scans through her face contorted in pain. He searches her whole body for more wounds with wide, desperate eyes and he notices her palms are also bleeding.

His hands hover uselessly, unsure where to touch or how to help without hurting her more. His heart is racing, pounding in his chest as the sight of her like this rips through him. It feels like the ground has been yanked out from beneath his feet.

When he speaks again, his voice is rough with fright, “Are you okay?” It’s the first thing he manages to blurt out, while helping her turn on her back. But it’s a stupid question—he can see she’s not okay. He can see the ache written all over her features, more blood dripping from her cuts.

Eunbi doesn’t respond immediately. Her breath comes out in sharp, shaky gasps. Jeongguk can see the shock of it all settling into her body and he watches as she tries to pull herself together, her face pale. Eunbi mutters, her voice small but strained, attempting to sit up in slow movements, “I’m fine.”

Jeongguk feels himself spiralling. The terror in her eyes is reflected in his, but it seems to hit him ten times stronger than what the bruised girl has to deal with right now. His orbs widen impossibly more as the seconds go by, and when her eyes seem to mist over with tears he can’t help his own palms from framing her face and searching for possible scratches he couldn’t spot with his attentive gaze, then grasps her arms.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to make her feel the hurt he carried, make her understand how deep his pain went. But now, as he looks at her, all he can think is how wrong that is. The sight of her suffering doesn’t give him any satisfaction. Only a pang deep in his chest, something ugly that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m fine,” Eunbi repeats again, this time with a little more conviction, a small, forced smile barely reaching her lips. But Jeongguk can see right through it. He hopes she can feel the intention seeping from his contact, his hold rough but warm over her goosebumps-covered skin.

The rushed moment gives no space for the resentment they had grown accustomed to these past days, and it wraps them up in a bubble from which the present is locked out. They’re outside Jeongguk’s porch, and Eunbi just fell on her hands and knees trying to learn how to roller skate. Her best friend sits beside her, taking care of her pain.

Even with their friends now hovering above them, throwing concerned questions at her, Jeongguk’s entire focus is on Eunbi. He follows her every slight movement, every shift of her body as she tries to mask the discomfort. His eyes study the way her face scrunches in pain, his heart aching in time with her every wince. And every time she looks at him, silently seeking reassurance, he’s right there, offering it in the softening of his gaze.

As the group’s voices become a chaotic hum around them, Eunbi’s low murmur slips past the noise, meant only for him, “Gguk. Maybe I don’t feel so fine.”

Her sheepish smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and the worry in her eyebrows betrays her light-hearted attempt. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. He immediately reacts, delicately leading her upper body down again. Seated on his heels, he lays her head on his lap and keeps her eyes on his face, his voice soothing, “It’s okay, Bee. Look at me. You’re going to be fine.”

Eunbi nods, trying to will herself into trusting him, but Jeongguk sees the uncertainty etched into every line of her face. Her eyes, wide with panic, keep darting down to her legs, where Namjoon holds them up steady, and Dahye works carefully to clean her wounds. There’s terror in her eyes every time she follows the blood trickling down her skin and notices how it keeps flowing out furiously. Jeongguk knows that look all too well. He’s seen it before, is aware of how blood unsettles her, how easily fear grips her in moments like these.

He acts instinctively, gently covering her eyes with one of his hands, the thumb subtly caressing her forehead, “Don’t look, Dal. Close your eyes, hm?”

Jeongguk can feel the hesitancy radiating from the group, their confusion practically tangible as they watch the scene unfold. They’ve seen him and Eunbi at each other’s throats, and now this tenderness feels foreign. But to him, it’s more familiar than any of the anger he’s harboured towards her. It’s like something pulling at the edges of his consciousness, reminding him of how it always has been, and should have been.

He refuses to linger on that thought now. Rational explanations and consequences can wait for later. Right now, all he cares about is making sure Eunbi is okay.

Her fall wasn’t severe, not by any medical standard, but the sight of her pale face and the cold sweat clinging to her skin keeps his nerves taut. He can't relax, not when he can still feel the tremble in her body and see the fright in her eyes. The panic washing over her features only makes him grip her a little tighter.

Namjoon breaks through the haze of Jeongguk’s focus, his voice concerned as he lowers Eunbi’s legs gently to the ground. “I need a shirt or something. Tissues won’t be enough here.”

It seems more as if he’s muttering to himself than anyone else, because he instantly moves to search in his backpack. Jeongguk is quicker, reacting without hesitation, still making sure Eunbi is shielded from the view of her knee scratched and raw with blood, “There’s one in my backpack. You can rip it if you need to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment, looking at Jeongguk with doubt and something else he can’t quite place. But after a beat, he nods, unzipping the bag and pulling out the t-shirt.

The older boy calls Eunbi’s attention on him, and Jeongguk’s hand reluctantly slips away from her face, settling in her hair instead. Namjoon’s tone is gentle, keeping the girl grounded, “Okay Bi. I’m going to press very hard now. It’ll hurt a bit, but I need to stop the bleeding. You okay?”

Eunbi nods, her expression tight with fear but determined to stay calm. She focuses solely on Namjoon’s face, deliberately avoiding the sight of her knee, where blood continues to drip down, relentless and vivid against her skin. The second Namjoon applies pressure, she lets out a sharp squeal, her brows knitting together as soft whimpers follow, each sound striking Jeongguk with a deep sense of helplessness.

And it’s more than he can bear. Without thinking, he reaches for Namjoon’s wrist, halting his movement, his voice tight and edged with a protectiveness he can’t suppress, “Yo, you’re hurting her. Don’t press so hard.”

The other boy meets his eyes, a small scoff escaping his lips without going unnoticed, his expression steady, “I’m studying to be a doctor. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re studying to be a vet, that’s not a fucking doctor.” The comment slips past him before he can do anything about it, sharper than intended, fueled by frustration and anxiety. The unnecessary weight of his words reflect in the surprised reactions from his friends and the slight arch of Namjoon’s brow.

“Bibi kinda looks like a deer. I’d say it’s quite appropriate,” Dahye’s voice slices through the small, sudden moment of tension, and it’s sweet but tinged with humour, her light-hearted tone meant to ease some of her friend’s nerves. Eunbi chuckles, light and genuine, for the first time that morning. She searches for the taller girl’s gaze and finds her crouching next to Jeongguk, close to her.

Jeongguk notices the shift in her immediately, the way her features relax, the calm that briefly washes over her. He scrutinises every subtle change, searching for the girl he’d spent years knowing. But as he looks down at her, still resting in his lap, her gaze lingering on Dahye before quickly finding his and then returning to Namjoon, he spots something that twists in his gut.

There’s a shift in her eyes. Uncertainty. It all comes rushing back. It’s not just the physical pain that’s pulling her away. The brief connection they had shared slips through his fingers. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and they’re back where they always end up, strangers that know everything about the other, even when they’re this close. The softness in her eyes is not directed at him, and it’s then replaced by doubt. The image causes an obnoxious alarm to go off in his head. He doesn’t know how to restore the moment. Doesn’t want it to end.

Frantic, he keeps combing his fingers through her hair, desperate to hold onto any remains. His movements are absentminded, mechanical almost, as if he’s afraid to let go completely. Then, the need to hear her voice becomes almost overwhelming, and his words come out soft, tentative, “You okay?”

When she only nods, he frowns. It does little to ease his mounting anxiety.

Namjoon resumes his work diligently, and Eunbi eventually sits up, the warmth of her body now gone from Jeongguk’s lap. It only leads him to further seek for a way to bridge the gap, forcing a gentle smile, “Dal, it’s not even bleeding anymore. See?”

“Oh god, is she dying? She’s gonna bleed out.” It’s Hoseok’s dramatic outburst shattering the moment and Jeongguk’s every possible attempt at mending it, as the boy crouches down to inspect the stained shirt wrapped around Eunbi’s leg with a grimace.

Eunbi, who had just started to calm down, now feels her breath quicken. She instinctively looks at Jeongguk, her eyes pleading for reassurance, but before he can offer his comfort, Hoseok’s over-the-top concern strikes again, “Bi, what’s your blood type? Just in case we might need to give you a blood transfusion.”

“What? Is he serious?” Her eyes widen in disbelief as she searches for the bloodstain but finds Jeongguk quickly pulling her shoulder to keep her still, “He’s just—”

"Actually, I once watched a tutorial on YouTube on how to do that. It’s not that hard. We just need to find someone with your same blood type and you’re set." Jimin’s sudden comment adds to the absurdity, and Jeongguk groans, his frustration mingling with the ridiculousness of the situation.

”You two, shut up and help me clean these,” rolling her eyes, Dahye puts an end to the foolish interaction and urges them to take care of the cuts on Eunbi’s palms, still unattended. Hoseok tries, he does, but he feels like facing blood this close will probably result in him fainting. He doesn’t think having another person on the verge of passing out would help. So, he calls for Taehyung to take over while he just resolves by trying to distract Eunbi, “I was just kidding, doesn’t look so bad. Where did you get this top, by the way?”

Jeongguk hesitates. He can’t focus on the banter. His anxiety is slowly eating at his insides, and he knows he should let go of whatever bubble he found himself trapped into. Should burst it with the slightest nudge of his finger, the mocking plop! sound eventually bringing him back to the present and making the sounds clearer, closer. But he can’t. He’s feverish as Eunbi seems to avoid his gaze further, only offering small smiles when he attempts to comfort her like he did while she was laying on his legs, her eyes trained on his and seemingly the only thing able to keep her stable. The chaos makes his head spin, but what’s worse is the feeling that she’s slipping away, again. Even if it was just an illusion to begin with.

Deep in the spiral of his thoughts, it takes him a moment to notice that Eunbi is being helped up by Namjoon, and that she’s holding onto his forearms while taking small, hesitant steps without applying too much pressure on the bruised knee. Namjoon hums in concern, then looks behind his shoulders, “Hey, my bike has a seat behind. I’m taking Eunbi back to the campsite.”

The words snap Jeongguk out of his daze, making him stand up and instantly pulling him back from whatever other mental trap he had fallen right into. Even if it seems to be too late now, Eunbi restoring the wall between them brick by brick, his heart kicks into overdrive, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he blurts out with more urgency than necessary, “I’ll come with you!”

The response is immediate, and not in the way he expects. All eyes land on him, doubtful, surprised. He can feel the shift in the air, a tension settling around him as his friends exchange glances, unsure of where this sudden burst of energy came from. The awkwardness of the moment seeps into his skin, and Jeongguk clears his throat, feeling the heat rise to his face, “I’ll— I’ll help take Eunbi’s bike back.”

Dahye pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, and Jeongguk is momentarily taken aback considering their earlier interaction and how she had looked at him with murderous intents. This time, she sports a soft smile, “Don’t worry, Gguk. I’ll do it.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to argue, but Namjoon cuts in, his expression equally puzzled by the younger’s outburst, “Yeah, man. You should stay here and enjoy the day. It’s your birthday, after all.”

“But—“

”You did enough already, Gguk. Stay with the others, we’ll take care of her.” After throwing him a convincing nod, Dahye is already pulling Eunbi’s bike up and steadying it, quickly collecting her own that had stopped not too far away.

Jeongguk frantically searches for Eunbi’s gaze, for any sign that he should push further, that she needs him with her. But as they lock eyes, the weight of his earlier actions come crashing down on him, like a bucket of cold water. He let himself get carried away in a distant fantasy that doesn’t belong in his reality, that shouldn’t have unfolded in their present. It only led him to try and force his way into a situation where he wasn’t needed. No, where he wasn’t wanted. The thought stings more than he cares to admit.

He seeks for confirmation either way, hanging on the last remaining thin thread, the name slipping from his tongue again, tentative, “Are you sure, Bee?”

Eunbi hesitates, her arms wrapping around her figure, shielding herself from him. She also seems to be realising the unfamiliarity of the moment, of his sweet tone, his eyes never once hardening when they land on her. And it’s weird, because she should be accepting this version of him with much more ease. But instead, she finds support in their distance right now, and she lowers her gaze, “Yes, Jeongguk. I don’t want to bother you further.”

A small gasp fights its way up his throat, but he stops it. He tries to argue, stuttering, “You— You’re not— Whatever. Huh, call if anything happens?”

His eyes are still trained on Eunbi, but she doesn’t react. Dahye chuckles softly to try and soothe the air, “Hey, she’s okay. It’s just a few scratches. Right, Bibi?”

The oddly silent girl nods, her head up again and now meeting Jeongguk with confidence, firmly holding his gaze, the smallest remains of whatever they got caught into scattered to the ground. He mirrors her nodding, attempting to smooth some of her certainty in himself, failing, “Huh— okay. I’m just— okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

Later comes, and Jeongguk barely sees Eunbi. The night grows louder, he’s surrounded by friends, their energy infectious as they prepare for his birthday, now just a few hours away. They’re bubbling with excitement, eyes bright with anticipation, instilling that nervous buzz that always hits him just before midnight. Jeongguk smiles along with them, but his heart isn’t quite in it.

Despite the laughter and the way the campfire crackles as they pass around bottles of alcohol, Jeongguk feels distant, like he's watching it all through a fog. His friends are trying, he can tell. They’re making every effort to keep him distracted, to drown out the noise in his head with their joy. Jokes fly around the fire, and every few minutes someone checks the time, gasping excitedly as midnight draws nearer. It’s sweet, thoughtful, and he genuinely appreciates it. But no matter how much he tries to focus on them, on the present moment, his mind keeps drifting. His eyes wander, searching for Eunbi.

She’s always just out of sight. There, but not fully. Lingering at the edges, sticking close to Dahye. Laughing quietly, but never wholly engaging with the group like she usually would, despite everything. It’s just enough to not raise suspicion, but it’s clear she’s retreating. Closing herself off from the rest of them, from him.

Jeongguk tells himself he’s reading too much into it. That she’s probably still finding it hard to recover from the earlier incident, her bruises still visible. But he also knows this feeling too well. He felt it after that ride on his motorcycle, Eunbi seeking for something in his eyes, the moment so tender but broken in an instant. He’s acquainted with the slow drift, the wall quietly being rebuilt between them. Taller, sturdier.

The campfire crackles, and his friends’ voices rise around him, but he’s only half there. Jeongguk wishes he could stop his mind from racing, wishes he could just fall into the rhythm of the celebration like everyone else.

And then midnight comes. With it, a burst of chaos. His friends spring to life, hoisting him up into the air, passing him between them like a beloved trophy. Their spark is contagious, and for a moment, Jeongguk lets himself be burnt by it. The joy, the love surrounding him. They sing him happy birthday, off-key and loud, pouring drinks and making ridiculous toasts. He allows himself to be showered by that affection. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.

As the hours drag on, the celebration settles into a steady hum. They stay by the fire, some leaning into one another, others still joking around, the alcohol loosening their tongues. The earlier buzz mellows into something softer, more intimate, and Jeongguk feels himself unwind, even a little. He laughs more freely now, the weight of the night starting to lift as he becomes wrapped up in their warmth.

Eventually, exhaustion begins to creep in. One by one, his friends start to peel away, calling it a night and retreating to their tents with promises to continue the celebration tomorrow. They ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, poking at him one last time before bidding him goodnight, the warmth of their presence lingering even as they disappear. Jimin and Taehyung make sure he’s okay before heading to their tent, only after throwing final teases laced with affection at him. Jeongguk sports a boyish grin as he watches them go.

Then it’s just him, the fire crackling softly and the bright stars above him. They whisper something to him, but he can’t decipher it. It makes his skin prickle with the chill and his eyelids shut heavier, slower with every flutter. He doesn’t hear his thoughts so strongly, now. Maybe he chooses not to. He’s been dealing with them all day long, seeking for even one of the millions to lighten him with something he actually needs. Does he even know what he needs? The ache in his heart that refuses to settle hints at a negative answer.

Jeongguk knows there’s something he wants, though. He badly wants these first hours of his birthday to be blessed by a certain someone’s wishes. He completely lost sight of her in the earlier chaos. Didn’t get to check if a smile, even a forced one, was painting her lips when midnight struck.

Perhaps it’s the universe pitying him, reserving him with a gift that could or could not change his misery. But he soon realises he’s not alone when a soft clearing of a throat breaks the silence.

He turns and finds Eunbi standing there, hesitant. She visibly struggles with what to do, her legs refusing to bring her closer to him but her brain willing to, sheepishly taking the seat next to him, “Um. Happy birthday, I guess.”

Jeongguk recognises it instantly, the way she says it, her subtle, small, playful smile not lost on him. It mirrors the same tone he’d used when he had blurted it out awkwardly at her own birthday not too long ago, the first time they’d really spoken one-on-one. A small chuckle escapes him, unsure but undeniably warm, “Huh. Thanks.”

And then there’s silence. It stretches between them, heavy but not uncomfortable, like there’s something waiting beneath it, something unspoken. The two are deep in their thoughts, words they want to say hovering on the tip of their tongues, but neither quite ready to let them loose. The crackling of the fire fills the space, the occasional pop of embers the only sound as they sit side by side, both not used to the feeling.

Jeongguk hesitates, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Do you… feel better?”

Eunbi hums.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

It goes quiet again, air thick and pregnant with everything left unsaid. Jeongguk hesitates, his mind swirling with the urge to say something, anything, but the fear of breaking whatever fragile truce they have keeps him quiet. He wants to ask her if she’s okay — really okay — but the words feel inadequate.

Eventually, it’s Eunbi who takes a deep breath, as if drawing in strength from the fire, from the quiet of the night around them, “I— I feel like… we should talk. Do— do you want to?”

Jeongguk’s chest tightens, his heart pounding, but then he nods.

“Yeah.”

[flowercrowngods]

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

[handofmidas-writes]

I didn't hate season 4. Or the love triangle. Let me explain.

Okay. Listen. Listenlistenlisten.

I know everyone is pissed about season 4. I hear you. I get it. I don’t think anyone is thinking that this was a well-executed season. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

But hear me out.

The bones of the thing are good in principle. The arc makes sense at the heart of it. Again, hear me out.

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The entire series is about saving the world by stopping the apocalypse. And as all the Fives in the deli have shown, the apocalypse is due to the Hargreeves siblings’ very existence. Reginald has fucked over every iteration of the kids to bring back his wife who died as a result of her own actions in creating marigold. He couldn’t give her up, and he was willing to rip universes apart to get her back. Five has tried time and time and time again to save his family, ad infinitum. He knows how to solve the problem, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Until this Five. They are, as we here on tumblr love to say, doomed by the narrative.

Five also says the universe loves balance. We saw this in season 3 with the kugelblitz. They were an impossibility in the universe and the kugelblitz formed to solve the problem by eliminating them. Impossibility for impossibility.

One of the Fives founded the Commission to solve the problem. It happens every time.

Abigail’s purpose through the whole season is to ensure the Cleanse, to reset the universe to the correct timeline. She shouldn’t be there. The kids shouldn’t be there. They are a direct result of Reginald releasing marigold into the world to enact his plan of resurrecting Abigail. The universe is trying to return to homeostasis, balance itself. And in every iteration, it needs to rid itself of the marigold, the substance that shouldn’t exist in the first place.

Ergo, the principle is sound, in my opinion.

The execution was shit, as I’m sure we all can agree.  I don’t like that they cease to exist, necessarily, and I think there were other avenues they could have taken to avoid that. But I can stomach it.

The shit storm is certainly in the characterizations. They did almost everyone dirty in some way or another. I think it could have been saved with a few more episodes, but we know that Netflix sucks like that and the season definitely suffered after the strike. I won’t be going into all of the characters just now since I’m apparently a loquacious bitch and don’t have the space. (And I know this is all being screamed into the void anyway. None of y’all will be reading any of this lol.)

Here’s where I’m going to ruffle feathers. I buy into the whole Diego/Lila/Five thing. And here’s why. (Cut here because this bitch got real long. Like 1.5k words long. Oops.)

The first episode is called “The Unbearable Tragedy of Getting What You Want.” Is it a slightly contrived Now That We’re Not Superheroes Our Normal Lives Kind Of Suck thing? Absolutely. Has it been overused in basically everything ever? You bet. Does it kind of work here? Yeah, actually.

These people legitimately don’t know what to do without powers. They’re coming fresh off the heels of trying and failing to save the world 3 different times. That takes adjustment. A lot of adjustment.

Lila and Diego fall into parenthood, which is a huge thing in and of itself. It’s not surprising that Diego turns into the stereotypical suburban dad, the breadwinner because that’s what he thinks his role should be. It doesn’t fully make sense that Lila turns into a housewife, but I can see her trying to throw Diego a bone and trying to make up for how she’s treated him in the past. Not to mention proving herself as a mother.

It makes sense for Lila to want to get out of the house and do her own thing, without her kids and her husband. It makes sense for Diego to resent his low level job when all he’s wanted to be is a badass and a hero.  Their frustration about their family life is understandable. Being a family is a lot of effort. There’s a loss of freedom when people become parents. And these are two headstrong people who have things to prove to themselves, to make sure they show up for their kids. Which leads to breakdowns in taking care of themselves and their relationship to each other.

Now, the sticky bit comes in with the whole love triangle. I know folks hate the subway subplot. Here’s the thing, despite how it was executed, it makes sense, too.

It’s an interesting way to portray the Many Worlds Theory and it’s plausible enough that Lila and Five connect in this way because of their shared knowledge of the Commission. It makes sense that they explore it together.

Which leads me to this: Five is incredibly lonely. He spent 40 years alone in an apocalypse and tried everything in his power to get back. He fell in love with a mannequin because she was the only thing keeping him tethered and sane-adjacent (sweet Dolores, we’ll never forget you, queen). He was desperate and alone and persisted because he had to.

He joined the Commission to try and stop said apocalypse and then inadvertently ended up in another. He’s tired of trying to save his family over and over and now he’s not sure there’s anything he can do to save them this time. And now here he is, stuck in the labyrinthine Subway of Fuckery with Lila and they can’t get out. Lila who has the same training as him, the same knowledge base, who went with him to the remnants of the Commission in season 3 and tried to save them all. Let’s call them frenemies, I guess.

And now here they are. Stuck together and feeling helpless. Enduring every fucking thing under the sun, watching each other’s backs, and they only have each other. And they’re tired. They’ve been searching for a way home for six fucking years. So, they decide to stop running and catch their breath. I won’t say it’s an inevitability, but Five is so lonely and scared. And Lila is lonely and scared and without her children. But they’re safe with each other, and they take comfort in each other, and it’s so easy to blur those lines.

So yeah, they end up together in the now infamous cottagecore greenhouse with the strawberries. And they try not to think about Diego. Is it right of them to do this? Well, no. But are people messy as hell? Yes. And are their actions understandable? Also yes.

So, to me, when Five finds the notebook and keeps it hidden from Lila, it tracks. Because he’s so fucking scared of what’s going to happen now. What if they still can’t make it back? What if they can’t save the world this time? What if it all comes down around his ears again? So he hides in easy domesticity and thinks about the solace they’ve found in each other.

And Lila, understandably, blows up when she realizes Five has hidden this from her. Because for her, this was a way to cope. To survive, as she says. She loves her children. And she loves Diego. She didn’t stop loving them. She couldn’t stop loving them. But she might just love Five, too. And isn’t that scary as hell?

People are many faceted, my friends. Does it make what she did morally right? Of course not. But does it make sense? I truly think it does.

The limited number of episodes is one of the largest contributors to the half-baked-ness of it all. There’s not enough time to flesh out a proper resolution to the whole thing. Which led to Diego’s hunch from episode 2 of Lila cheating with Greek guy/Five accidentally being correct foreshadowing. Which then resulted in a heavy confession from Lila in front of the entire family (which I was digging, just like the siblings, tbh). And then the boys started throwing punches and the whole love triangle thing went completely down the shitter (a dubious and debatable statement, I know).

So, that leaves us with Lila who is now in the middle of two brothers. Said brothers are now physically fighting out bad blood and pent up frustration. And only part of it is due to Lila.

Diego’s character is criminally underdeveloped. He was always halfway between the underdog and class clown and his characterization in this season falls spectacularly flat in all aspects. He’s a character who has fought to prove himself over and over again, and is still trying to do that here, but nothing really lands. Diego and Luther are comic relief mostly. And Diego’s role, unfortunately, ended up being a stick in the spokes of a sloppy love triangle and pretty much nothing else.

Five is obviously the favorite in Blackman’s eyes. Five is knowledgeable. Five always has an idea. Five is the one the family looks to for answers, more often than not. Five is the one who almost always opts to save his family in some way, shape, or form. And this has resulted in Five being sad and helpless, in a way. He has been building this emotional bomb for decades and across timelines without any real release or acknowledgement. So Blackman chose to have Five get his emotional release in the form of “a love story” with Lila. Doing it this way, with the limited number of episodes, left Diego’s part woefully inadequate.

No resolution really takes place here. Diego kind of “wins” insofar as he convinces Lila to take their family to the subway and she takes his hand first when they all say goodbye. Five gets the teary “I hate you for this,” after she ends up choosing self-sacrifice with the others, which we know means “I am so incredibly sad and I hate that you told us the truth because it means everything ends for real this time and I’ve had to let my family go.” Then she holds his hand, too, showing that all is forgiven, here at the end of all things.

There’s definitely not a resolution for Diego, and it can certainly be inferred that he still pretty much hates Five’s guts. I get the feeling that Five is just resigned to finally ending the cycle. He knows he’s hurt Diego badly and I think he does feel bad for it, but it’s not translated into the final scene, which leaves the whole situationship hollow and earned it the well deserved hate for hilariously poor execution.

So that’s it, friends. That’s my unpopular opinion and way too many words justifying it. I surprisingly have more I could blather on about, but I’ll spare y’all from including any more in this post. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

And for a final palate cleanser for those of you who do not care about any of this: I think we deserve a side plot of Five and Derek the Twink from the CIA. The true OTP. (Also Brisket Five, who is the real MVP.)

[ronniaugust]

How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 1)

Finally! Finished the first chapter! It’s also my first official g/t story. Enjoy!

Word count: 3,500

CW: Mentions of Death, Fear, and panic attacks (they don’t actually happen)

1- Nathan 

Don’t you wish that sometimes you could reverse time? Whether you never wished to be born, or if you just did something really embarrassing. You want to know what I would do if I could reverse time? Make sure my parents did move away from our little home in the country sooner. We all had loved it. With no loud noises and no people to tell us that we were weird. Just me, my parents, and the most beautiful view of coniferous trees ever. And that was stripped away from us. 

We had heard nothing but the dreadful screams and the cackling in the back of our minds. The only glimpse we had of out new home was the wicked smiles of our torturers. The only thing we were allowed to see were bodies being ripped in half. No longer the sight of the maple leaves turning orange during the fall, no longer the sight of a sunset. Nothing. Nothing but a red, bloody void.

Terrible right? How could I describe something you don’t even know? It’s not that hard. Just two words. Human trafficking. Where humans are taken away from our home and forced to make entertainment for beings with no hearts. They didn’t care what happened to anything that was below them in the food chain. That didn’t care how a “lesser” being felt. Because who would want to know about how a seven year old cried about seeing their own dad being ripped in half, huh? Who cared about how many times you’ve broken someone else’s bones? Who cared how much you traumatized a kid who used to have their whole life ahead of them? 

That was how I lived more than half of my life. Fearing everything that could and would hurt me. Scared of what would happen the very next day. Scared of the unknown truth that was my life. Even if my mom had kept reassuring me that everything would be okay. Even when my dad was long out of our lives, but never forgotten. Even when she was on the brink of death herself… 

Then, there was a glimmer of hope. And all I remembered were gun shots and my mom screaming and dragging me underneath something. Hidden away from the people that were trying to help us. After my mom had finally realized that those people were there to help, she asked me to go out and get them to come help her. I remembered seeing her bloody leg. I remember her tying a piece of string around to stop it from bleeding anymore. And I remember being scared to go. What was I supposed to do? I was just subdued to years and years of torture and all of a sudden I’m supposed to trust the same people that hurt us? 

The only reason I gathered up enough courage was because my mother had practically begged me and passed out afterward. I couldn’t leave her there to die like dad. And so what I thought would be our imminent doom yet again, was our hope for surviving. The people here helped get my mom to get better, and fixed up my multiple broken bones and wounds. They sent me to a program that taught basic skills before I could be placed into an actual school. Everything was going great. I had my life ahead of me. Then, the papers forcing my mom and I to transfer to a co-ed city arrived. 

Our little utopia was crumbling to the ground. Living in the same city as giants? Hah. No. I’d rather die than be around those monsters again. They’d just hurt us. And for some odd reason, my mom was smiling. Genuinely smiling even after reading the notice. She never looked mad, upset, or even the slightest bit scared. She smiled and cheered that we could have a normal life again. That I could have the childhood I never had. 

I admit, I believed this could be a good change as well. I could be around other people my age. Maybe make friends? And so began this great journey of trying to act like nothing had happened. Like my mom and I weren’t just subdued to torture for the last 8 years. No one would know, and no one would care. 

Today stated off as any normal day. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, ate breakfast. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the first day I was cleared to go to an actual school. After moving away from the hospital and coming over to the co-ed city, I kind of thought this was a good idea. I mean, who’s to say that it’ll tun out like it did in the country? For all I know I won’t even have to go to school with giants. I could just go to an all human school or something. That’s what I was hoping for on the way here. But, now that my mom and I have been here for nearly a month, I’ve learned that wasn’t the case. 

I was going to school with humans and giants. Whether I liked it or not. 

My mom tried to reassure me, saying that there were more rules set up in a city rather than in the country. That wasn’t what I was worried about though. I was more worried about what would happen if I was alone. This was a completely new place that I’ve never been to. Who know’s what could happen? 

The bus came to pick me up and some other younger kids who were laughing at something on their phones. The atmosphere had completely changed. It was thick, and heavy. Maybe it was because it was early in the morning? Or maybe it was because everyone dreaded the day? I mean it was Monday after all. Whatever was making them look so drained and tired was obviously not good. Making my nerves rise like crazy. 

I sat down near the front of the bus, trying to avoid the other kids my age. There was just something about them that had me on edge. It’s not like I didn’t want to to make friends, it’s just that I had to be careful who I place my trust in. Especially when I was going to a school made for people much, much bigger than me. 

It was hard to keep my mind off of the fact that I would be walking along with giants again, but unless I wanted to undergo a panic attack on my first day, it was best to just ignore everyone and everything. At least until I could work up the courage to walk without my legs losing balance or without running away. Which will probably happen today. I’d be surprised if I could go three minutes without freaking out. 

The school was around a ten minute drive from my house. Plenty of time to really set into perspective where I was going. I checked my phone to make sure I would be able to call my mom in case something went wrong, made sure I had my schedule, and soon enough we were all exiting the bus. 

In front of me was a huge building. This was the human entrance to the school. Giants was on the other side so I at least didn’t have to deal with that until later on in the day. Hopefully. Compared to what I was guessing the giant side of the school, the human side was extremely tiny. Overall, the place looked very nice. They had well-kept flowerbeds on the outside with a couple benches outside for I guess when students came here before the doors open. 

When you walked into the building, there were lockers lining the walls up until you reached the doorways to the main classes. People were crowding all over, trying to meet up with their friends or just trying to get to class early. It all felt too much for me. I wasn’t used to being around so many people at once and it was really overwhelming me. Meanwhile, I still needed to figure out where the heck my class was in this mess. Somewhere in this hallway hopefully… 

After wandering around aimlessly for ten minutes, I finally found the classroom, thankfully in the human school. The only problem was that I had all eyes on me. I was not used to this however. One or two people? I could deal with. But with and entire classroom full? It just made my nerves go all over the place, and of course I didn’t show it at all. Staring at the tiled ground and finding the one empty seat on the far left of the class between two girls who both glared at me like I just interrupted their very important conversation about how their makeup looked. I mean I did, but I was too afraid to apologize now that they already hated me. 

Overall, the first half of the day was okay. No one talked to me and I didn’t talk to anyone. Mostly because there were so many whispers and mentions of me that had me thinking they were already talking bad about me. Why was all the attention on me? I was probably the most uninteresting person ever. I even heard someone say that I wasn’t going to last a week in this place, which seemed right if I were being honest. 

The bell rang, releasing us for lunch, and I just followed the crowd that started flooding the halls. I wasn’t hungry. At all. It’s just that I don’t know where I’m going in this huge place. The human side of the school looked really small compared the the giants’ side, but it’s really big inside. 

The cafeteria was shared between both giants and humans. Why was I barely finding this out now? I had zero idea. It would have been helpful to know that beforehand so I could mentally prepare myself, but now I didn’t have anymore time and I was currently standing right in the middle of the floor searching for a place to hide. 

Of course there were human tables nearby, but I had no idea which group of people sat at which. The last thing I needed was for someone to get mad at me over a table. That would be pointless. So, here I was. Definitely not on the human side of the cafeteria, and instead standing right in the middle of a walkway for giants. Can I add on that? I was too frozen in fear to move. 

Sure, there were other humans walking along where I was, but they could actually move. I had no idea how they could when people that were as tall as skyscrapers, some even taller, were walking along with them. I don’t get it! Even more odd, humans were going around the giant tables and climbing into something that took them on top. 

So this place did have commodities for humans. There apparently were elevators that took you on top of the giant table to human tables on top. That only took me forever to figure out at that moment, but that’s what was going on. So everyone was friends here or something? Well, maybe not everyone since there were other humans sitting on their side.

After taking a good five minutes to gather up my thoughts, I finally was able to walk away from being in the middle of the floor and in a corner table where no one was currently sitting. The farthest table away from the giants. And it seemed like no one was going to sit here anyways. I can’t believe that I didn’t run away. I mean I was just frozen in fear, but that doesn’t count! 

  Lunch was loud. Mainly because the giant’s voices were so loud and I hated the fact that no one minded but me. These other kids have been here for who knows how long so I was guessing they were just used to it. It made sense in my head. 

Th day went on. The second half of my school day was mainly in the giant’s side, which I dreaded, but they made a separate hall to get there. One that avoided being stepped on I was guessing. The classrooms here were huge of course, and they had humans on a separate desk all together. To avoid what you may ask? I had zero idea. 

It was going alright until my last period. I had successfully avoided giants all day (To some extent) and then my last period came tumbling down right on top of me. First, there was no desk in the back that had the human-sized ones. Second, humans were taking one of those elevators like at lunch to get on top of a giant’s desk acting like they weren’t just a hundred feet up in the air. Third, but last, the teacher was approaching me. Did I mention she was a giant? 

“You must be Nathan! Nice to meet you!” She had greeted, crouching down and holding her hand out. Did… did she want me to shake her hand. Er… finger? Oh heck. My heart was beating fast as I stared at her outstretched hand. Um. What do I do? And suddenly those same eyes came onto me. Peering right through my body. Again, why did all the attention come to me? 

I reached out a shaky hand, trying to keep my legs from buckling underneath me, and lightly placed my hand over the tip of her finger as she gently shook it. I gulped, expecting for there to be more, but she smiled softly and sadly at me. What did that mean? Should I be worried? What class was this even? I just read on my paper to come to room 135. 

“Hm… now who doesn’t have a human partner?” She turned her head up, looking for any raised hands. I couldn’t see anything. Heck, I could barely even look up. There were still a couple eyes on me, and I couldn’t help but feel the acid from my stomach leave a nasty taste in my mouth. Just a couple more minutes and you can go home. I had to remind myself before the teacher smiled and told me to follow her. I did, just a little ways from her, trying to ignore the stares that were practically stabbing me in the back. 

I couldn’t help but hear whispers again. Where was she taking me. Wait let me rephrase that. Who was she taking me to? By the looks of it giants and humans were randomly paired up for some odd reason. On my way to whoever’s desk I was going to, I couldn’t help but dread this. What if I fell off? What if the person who’s desk I’ll be on forgets I’m there and knocks me off? What if they don’t like me? Questions swirled in my head, but I knew I wasn’t going to get answers right now. 

The teacher stopped, turned down to me and smiled. Was she waiting for me to do something? Oh wait. Elevator, right. Multiple sets of eyes were on me once again as the elevator slowly went up. Nerves built up inside of me. Anxiety. Heck, maybe even a panic attack. I felt dizzy, but I would survive. There was only thirty minutes left of the day. I could survive. Yeah. 

The elevator stopped, opening a little gate to the open desk with a huge journal on it. I gulped, taking my first steps. The first thing I noticed about this guy was that he didn’t look as welcoming as the teacher. He gave me “Quiet Kid” vibes. Not to mention that he was dressed in mostly black. 

Replayed in my mind was the sick smirk and laughter coming from my captors. If this guy got ahold of me I would be dead. I was so sure of it that I tasted the vile in my mouth and my knees nearly buckling right from underneath me. But, I couldn’t help but wonder why he was wearing a nervous look on his face instead of the usual sickening grin. 

“Ryker, Nathan. Nathan, Ryker. I’m sure you’ll both get along well.” The teacher cheered, heading to the front of the class and taking role call. Leaving all alone with someone who looked like he would rip my body in half. Just great. As soon as I had stepped out of the elevator, I was once again frozen with fear. This time at a much closer radius than I would have preferred. Because now I was definitely in arms reach of him. Not something that I’d like to be near.  

My eyes fell to the ground as tears threatened my eyes. Too bad I wasn’t going to let anyone see them. I slowly walked over to the human desk, seeing that it was father from the edge than I had thought and there were railings so it would pretty hard to fall off without actually trying. 

The teacher smiled while standing up from her chair, “Welcome to Human and Giant Interactions for those of you who don’t know. I’m Mrs. Kay. Some people are taking this class willingly, or they just need the credit to graduate, but I would still love to get everyone involved and take this class seriously.” She had explained. What. I don’t remember putting this on the extracurricular format. Then again the hospital did say these kinds of classes would benefit for me. So did they really have to put this class on my schedule? Life really did hate me. A lot. 

This class went by painfully slow. It was mainly just videos on current events with humans and giants, and then Mrs. Kay asking us questions to which only the people on the front desks had answered. Not that I even wanted to answer a question like that. But it was mostly hard to focus when you had someone who could very easily push me off the side of the desk without even trying. I mean, I never once looked behind me the entire class period. Only hearing him flip pages in his notebook from taking notes like everyone else in the room. 

One other thing I had noticed was that rarely anyone had talked. For a class that was supposed to bring humans and giants together, it really didn’t seem like it. Then again, I had no idea wha they really did in this class. Maybe she just doesn’t like talking? Or people didn’t want to get in trouble or something? They were too tired? That would make the most since it was the end of the day. 

It felt like forever before the final bell had rang. I rushed down that stupid elevator thingy and hurried out the doors to the bus stop so I wouldn’t have to dread this until tomorrow morning all over again. 

My mom was still at work, so I just cooked some dinner for myself, made her a plate and stuffed it in the fridge and went to my room. This was going to hard to get through, but if my mom thinks it’ll help then I believe her. I mean, what other choice did I have? 

As soon as I heard the front door open, I saw my mom sighing while putting up her purse. I walked to the kitchen to heat up her dinner, earning a quiet chuckle form her. It sort of made me sad to think that she’ll never smile the same way again. Heck, she can’t even stand it when people touch her after what had happened. But at least we’re both still alive. 

“Smells amazing Nate.” She complimented, using her same soft and broken voice. She grabbed one of the plastic plates from the cabinet and getting herself a cup of tea. 

“How was school?” 

What was I even supposed to say to her? That it was terrifying every second? That I barely even survived the day without going under a panic attack? I couldn’t tell her that. She’d be so worried about me she wouldn’t worry about herself. I couldn’t do that to my mom. 

“It was good.” I put on my best fake smile and made her plate. 

“That’s good. There were no troubles?” 

“None so far.” 

“Thank you for doing this Nate. I just want you to have a normal childhood. I couldn’t have you at that hospital any longer.” She sadly explained, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. 

“I know mom. I’ll be fine.” 

She gave me a warm smile before taking her plate and sitting on the couch with the tv on. She didn’t need to know that I was practically forcing myself to even be around other people. It would put too much stress on her. For now, I’ll just force myself to endure whatever decides to throw itself at me. 

————————————————

And first chapter officially done. To be honest I wrote this just for the fun of it. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually make this a series instead of abandoning it? Don’t know.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well

I don’t really know what to type cause I’m usually too scared to do asks, and I haven’t done many but I’ve been challenging myself to do asks and face my fears lol

That aside, I just wanted to say I’m really thankful for the Neon Void, I’ve been reading it since the first few chapters but I haven’t really interacted with it since I’m usually too scared, and this is kinda me trying to get over it xD

I genuinely think it’s one of the best fanfics I’ve ever read, and with it and a few others that really make my day and I’m always looking forward to read it. Last chapter left me screaming literally

I won’t keep this too long, it already is too long but thank you so much for writing it and giving me the possibility to read it, and I can’t wait to see more about it, even in the last few chapters and I also hope for you have a great day/evening/night!

aww!!! it's okay i totally get it-- i never used to comment on fics either because i was shy. but being on the writer's side????? getting comments is a high better than what Leo feels around his family's Ninpo LOL

thank you for taking the time to tell me!!! seriously it's super sweet 🩵

[corrupt-touch]

Lullaby

Suptober 2022, Day 2: Pillow Talk

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: E Word Count: 2381

Tags: Human Castiel, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Sexual Content, The Finale Doesn't Exist, Dean Helps Castiel Feel What it's like to be human

When Castiel closes his eyes all he can smell, all he can hear, is death. He remembers it all. The relentless screams. The voices of the damned and the lost. He remembers praying to fall asleep forever. Praying to fall asleep just to escape. He remembers the shadow of the Empty, engulfing him in black ooze and dragging him away. He remembers the way the vast darkness taunted him, I know who you love, I’ve always known who you love, I’ve always known your true happiness, I’ve always known I’d be the one to take it away.

And he remembers Dean Winchester, broken and bloody, pulling him out of nothingness. Telling him, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, over and over. The rest of it, the ride back to the Bunker in the back of the Impala, graceless and barely alive, is a blur.

The past two days back on Earth are a blur. Everything is the same as it was the night he left, the night he finally confessed everything to Dean. But everything is different. His body is sore and bruised. The scars across his arms and his face, the ones left behind from the void that tried to entrap him forever as Dean struggled against everything to bring him back to this world, aren’t healing the way they would have, before all this. His head is pounding, the pain trailing down behind his eyes, and the pills Dean had given him aren’t working, at least not yet. And he wants to succumb to the exhaustion he feels, but he knows, once he closes his eyes, once he falls asleep, the nightmares will creep back into his brain.

Dean’s bed is softer, warmer, than Castiel had ever imagined it would be. He’d imagined it so many times, the nights when he would sit alone, awake, in the Bunker, while Sam and Dean slept. He had imagined what it would be like, to feel Dean’s body against his, to know that Dean belonged to him, and he belonged to Dean. But now, Dean knows everything, knows how Castiel really feels, and they haven’t spoken a word about it since they’d gotten back here.

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Instead, Dean is asking him if he needs anything every five minutes. Making him toast and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and saying that now, since Castiel needs to eat, they can go to that diner on the corner of Walnut and Grove, go get the best apple pie in all of Lebanon. And Dean is sitting in the corner of his bedroom, on a chair he’d moved in from the other room, his face illuminated only by the screen of his phone. “It will be okay, Cas. I’m right here, man. Just close your eyes and you’ll fall asleep eventually. If something happens—another nightmare—I’m here.”

“Do the nightmares ever stop?” Castiel rolls onto his back, focusing up on the ceiling.

“For me they never have. But, you know, maybe you’ll be a better human than me. Maybe they’ll stop for you.” Dean rests his head against the wall behind him. He knows, he’s avoiding what he needs to say, what he needs to do, but he’s afraid that if he tells Castiel how he feels, if he tells Castiel anything at all, the Empty might steal him away again. And Dean he’s had to survive losing Castiel too many times, he knows the next time will be the end of him.

“This is what you do? What humans do? You just lay here, alone with your thoughts, hoping that at any moment you’ll just be unconscious?” Castiel runs his fingers along the t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s Dean’s, Dean had given it to him to wear after he’d tried to wash the unrelenting stench of the Empty off him.

“Something like that, yeah,” Dean says. “Being human—it sucks. And I’m not sorry that I saved you, but I’m sorry that you lost all your grace when I pulled you out. I am, I’m sorry.” Dean wants to apologize, for ruining Castiel, like he ruins everything he touches.

“It’s not that bad.” Castiel turns his head toward Dean. “It’s just—different.”

“Not that bad? Why would you want to be a miserable, shitting, human being?” Dean drops his phone down onto the ground. “Why would you want to be like me?”

“You know what I told you—” Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s, but Dean turns his gaze down to the ground. “Every single word of it was true. I meant what I said, every word of it.”

Dean swallows down the anxiety that’s collecting in his throat. He pulls himself up from the chair, and he stands over his bed, over Castiel, in the faded light streaming in from under the door. And he doesn’t know exactly how to put the things he feels right now into words, he doesn’t know how to tell Castiel he’s felt the same way for as long as he can remember, so he lays down next to Castiel, his head on the edge of the pillow, inches from Castiel.

“What are you doing?” Castiel’s legs slip away from Dean’s along the mattress. He wants this, wants this more than anything, but he doesn’t understand if this is what he thinks it is.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe something I should have done a long time ago.” Dean can feel the warmth from Castiel’s body, and it makes him feel like maybe, this is all he needs now. “Why is this not so bad, Cas?”

“Being human?” Castiel can feel Dean’s fingers brush against his spine, and it does something to him he’s felt before, but never this much, never to the point where he feels like he’s on the brink of losing control. “Because—there’s feelings, that are more intense than I could feel before. Food—it just tasted like molecules. But now I can actually enjoy it. There’s—I don’t know, desire?”

“You couldn’t feel that before, as an angel?” Dean slides closer, until his face is almost against Castiel’s on the pillow.

“I could—I did, all the time. It’s just—stronger now, I guess. I used to be able to tell myself I couldn’t, shouldn’t want that with anyone—because of what I was. But now, I feel like I wouldn’t be able to say no, I wouldn’t be able to convince myself not to,” Castiel says. “And I guess—I did experience that—sex—once before, as a human, but, you know, that didn’t end so well when she killed me.”

“WI guess that’s the good part of being human. The sex, I mean, not the getting killed.” Dean’s hand is on Castiel’s arm now, moving down, to his wrist, to his hands. “That minute you let yourself go, with the right person, and your bodies are all tangled up and sweaty together and you reach that point at the same time.” Dean stops, lets himself laugh. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. These weeks, spent trying to get Castiel back, trying spell after spell, until one of them broke through, until one of them let Dean crawl into the Empty, have been sleepless, overwhelming. “I guess what I’m saying is, you’re right, there are good things about being human.”

“Yes. You’re okay with this? Being here with me—in your bed—like this?” Castiel’s body, one that feels almost new and unknown to him, leans back against Dean almost instinctively, because it feels right this way, it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. “I can leave if you aren’t.”

“What? No—you’re always fucking leaving me. I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Dean’s fingertips trail along the edges of Castiel’s t-shirt, moving underneath the cotton. “I can help you be human, or feel human, or whatever. If that’s what you need.”

Castiel closes his eyes against the feeling of Dean’s hands touching him in a way they’d never touched him before. “Just tell me what it feels like to finally get something you’ve wanted for so long—to finally have what you know you needed. Tell me what it feels like to be happy, without the threat of death hanging over that happiness.”

Dean is quiet, listening to the sound of Castiel breathing, of Castiel’s heart beating faster as Dean leans over him, their lips nearly touching as Dean says, “It feels confusing—because I can’t believe this is really happening. And it’s terrifying, too, because I feel like what I’ve wanted has been ripped away from me so many times—and I’m so fucking worried it will happen again.” He pauses, lets his hand slip across Castiel’s until their fingers are entwined, and he’s holding Castiel down on the mattress. “But it also feels like maybe something has changed, like maybe I don’t always have to be the one to sacrifice everything anymore. It feels like this—” He kisses Castiel, his lips hesitant, nervous.

But this, this kiss, feels like nothing Castiel has ever felt before. Dean’s mouth is soft and consuming, and the weight of his body against Castiel lets Castiel sink further down into the bed, and, normally, having someone so close to him, would make every single one of Castiel’s nerves on edge, would make Castiel feel like he was committing some violation of Heaven. But now, his fingers run along Dean’s back, as Dean kisses his neck and his chin. “Tell me what it feels like to let yourself go with someone you want more than anything,” Castiel mumbles.

“Are you asking me to tell you what it feels like to come as a human?” Dean tries not to smile, as he pulls at the collar on Castiel’s shirt.

“Yes, tell me what that feels like, to do that, with someone who wants to be with you.” The only time Castiel has ever felt that release, was with someone who was manipulating him, betraying him, and all he wants, is to know what it would feel like, if it was all real. And he doesn’t understand why Dean is doing this right now, or if this is what Dean really wants, but all he knows, is that this human body is pleading, yearning for anything Dean will give him.

“I don’t really know how to describe it,” Dean says, pulling himself up over Castiel. “It’s like this feeling that builds up inside you, when you’re getting right to the edge, when you’re almost there. But sometimes, it feels too good, you don’t want it to end—and you have to try to make it stop, think about something else--but then, you just can’t. And, when it happens, you sort of don’t think—sometimes you say things you maybe shouldn’t, because the words just kind of spill out. When it's over, I don’t know, that’s usually the part where for me—they leave me, or I leave them.”

“Do you feel regret after it?” Castiel’s focus is on Dean, the rest of the room could disappear and he probably wouldn’t even know.

“Probably not if it’s the right person.” Dean lifts Castiel’s shirt from his stomach to his chest, and over his head. Castiel lifts himself off the bed just enough to accommodate Dean, to let Dean move his hands down his now-bare back, to let Dean’s mouth move across his throat and his chest. “I don’t know, Cas—all this talk—why don’t I just show you, and you tell me how it feels?”

“Dean—you don’t have to—”

“I want to. I want to.” Dean rests his chin on Castiel’s stomach. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you get that I feel the same way you do? Now just stop talking and let me do this for you.”

Dean’s mouth moves down Castiel’s stomach, and Dean’s teeth pull at the elastic of Castiel’s boxer shorts, his fingers and his mouth running down Castiel’s body as he pulls the material lower and lower, down to Castiel’s knees. Castiel groans from the feeling of Dean’s lips slowly moving over him, as Dean’s tongue circles along the tip of where Castiel is hard, aching.

“You should have asked for this a long time ago, I would have given it to you,” Dean says, taking him into his mouth. Just the sound of Dean, sucking, almost gagging, as his lips tighten, is enough to make Castiel want to beg for this to never end Then Dean stops, his mouth hanging open around Castiel as he speaks, “Tell me what it feels like when I do this,” before he lets his lips close again, as his tongue rolls along Castiel.

Castiel gasps into the air, runs his fingers along Dean’s hair, pulling at Dean’s scalp. “This feels—like—nothing ever felt when I was an angel, like nothing I could even imagine feeling now as a human—this feels like this—like you’re all I need to survive anymore.” And his eyes meet Dean’s from across his body, and the way Dean looks right now, devouring him is enough to bring Castiel right to the brink.

And he tries to think of something else, like Dean told him, he tries to remember the feeling of being lost in the Empty, the sounds and the smells of decay, the cries of condemned angels and demons. But, now, none of that even matters, it’s all background noise, fading into the way Dean’s face is buried in between is legs. When he comes, he mumbles, Dean, Dean, gripping the back of Dean’s head, holding him like he can never let go, and then pulling Dean back up, along his body.

He kisses Dean, longer and harder, than maybe anyone has ever kissed anyone, and he can taste himself all over the inside of Dean’s mouth.

“So did I describe it right?” Dean lays down on the pillow.

“No—it was much better than you described.” Castiel runs his fingers along Dean’s cheek.

“Do you regret it?” Dean stretches his arm across Castiel, bringing him closer.

“No, not at all,” Castiel says. “I guess you’re just the right person.” “Yeah,” Dean stretches his leg across Castiel’s, the denim rubbing along Castiel’s bare skin. “I guess you’re the right person for me too.”

[thepalmofyourfreezinghand]

I love your comment in the tags about how fans don’t understand how Joe didn’t want and how he could break up with THE Taylor Swift is so dehumanizing because YES!!!

We can assume all we want about why they broke up, but it all comes down to this one little fact: they grew apart and they fell out of love. Simple as that. No one is the villain in this breakup. No one! And I am so sick of people trying to make Joe out to be the villain in this story. Okay, so he didn’t show up for her a few times, that doesn’t make him a bad person. It makes him human. People can’t know that someone’s hurting or in pain or needing help or needing to talk or the happiest person in the room, if communication isn’t happening. Humans can’t read minds.

Taylor literally has a line in one of her songs: “People are people, and sometimes we change our mind”. Or even what she said in Miss Americana: “When people fall out of love with you, there’a nothing you can do to make them change their minds. They just don’t love you anymore.”

Joe is not a bad person for changing his mind, and neither is Taylor. You will never see me say otherwise unless by chance things are revealed about him that say differently.

I agree! What makes me want to scream into the void is when some people say “how could he not see that Taylor was struggling?” (regarding YLM…). Because to me it’s clear that he did notice… he just didn’t do anything about it, for whatever reason (I have my theories but they’re irrelevant).

He was with Taylor for the entire second half of 2016: he saw things that not even her family and her friends saw directly, when they were in London. We can only imagine how bad it got. And I get chills (bad chills) whenever I think about Taylor saying in one of her profiles in 2019 (maybe The Guardian one?) that she wants to keep what happened to herself because she needs to have something that’s just hers and that’s not of public domain. He was with her through that, through the sale of her masters, through the betrayal of some of her oldest friends, through the pandemic that left her thinking if she’d ever work again, and through more than one recovery… I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I think it’s somewhat irrational to think that a person who saw all that suddenly became blind when Taylor was biting her nails down to the quick…

I also think that “you wouldn’t admit that we were sick” tells a different story: he saw what was happening but he thought it would pass with time/she would change her mind/they would get through it/it wasn’t worth ending their relationship or taking a radical decision over.

And hey, I’m ready to change my mind whenever TS11 gets released! But YLM, to me, tells the story of two people wanting different things and coming to a point of impasse where one person is still fighting desperately to keep the relationship alive (Taylor), while the other (for serious reasons) has stopped trying and is just waiting for it to be over or to get better on its own. But that’s just my opinion.

[moondragon618]

hey if you're still doing the ask game? 19 “You need to go through suffering to purge you of your sins. I’m just helping you.”

Here you go, this was fun to write lol :) Decided to go with Divine c!Prime for this one (for context this is c!Prime that have been immortal for so long that c!Dream figured out how to become an actual god and then made c!Tommy into his angel)

Warnings for abuse, religious themes, dehumanization, blood, torture, amputation, murder, mind reading? idk I feel like I should mention that, obsessive + possessive behavior, and c!Dream being Fucked Up :)

"I-I'm s-sorry Dream, I'm s-sorry, p-please forgive me-" Tommy whimpers, a perfect little angel trembling in fear before his god. Dream chuckles in amusement, absolutely delighted by the way he cowers in His divine presence, just as he should.

He grins as He takes in His beloved creation before Him- the pure white curls framed by the perfect ring of his halo, black as the void of his limbo and glowing a soft light blue, matching his luminescent blue eyes, just like Dream's bright glowing green. Small wings so white they almost glow, with feathers that shimmer iridescent, a smaller version of Dream's, intentionally made too small for him to fly.

So perfect. And His. His and His alone. :)

"Oh Tommy, you know I'll always forgive you, right? You're my everything, after all," Dream says, reaching down to gently run a hand through Tommy's hair. He grins as His little brother leans into His hand, delighted at the little hint of pride that comes from him despite his fear. "Now, spread out your wings for me, and I'll try to make this quick, okay?"

"W-what-" Tommy freezes, shivering, a wave of confusion and terror coming from him as he realizes what Dream wants to do.

Oh, He's always loved how easily He can play with Tommy's emotions, and it's even better now, being able to feel the effect he has on His Tommy.

"Relax, Tommy. I'll grow them back for you when I feel you've learned your lesson, okay?" Dream chuckles, lightly tracing the edge of Tommy's halo- it's fascinating how it feels like nothing, almost a sort of numbing sensation- and He can feel another sudden wave of fear from His angel, no doubt remembering just how agonizing the process of getting his wings was. "Oh, don't worry, Tommy. If you're really good, maybe I'll consider making it less painful this time."

"O-okay, Dream…" Tommy sighs shakily, lowering his head and obediently stretching out his small feathered wings, and although he remains quiet, Dream can hear him reciting his prayer to Him in his mind. Distracting himself, trying to calm himself, just like when he used to silently pray to the Primes back when the two of them were mortal.

And now he's praying to Dream to calm himself, to his true god, because he knows Dream will protect him far better that the Primes ever did. :)

"Good, Tommy. You're doing so well already," Dream grins, circling around behind Tommy, and gripping the elbow joint of one wing, firmly holding it in place. "Just keep holding still for me, and it'll be over before you know it."

Tommy whimpers, a shudder running through him, and Dream can feel just how difficult it is for him to not instinctively pull his wings in to protect them.

But he's still doing it, just for Him. :)

Dream then summons Nightmare, and with a single quick motion, he brings the blade of the axe down near the base of Tommy's wing and cuts it clean off, causing him to let out a satisfying, agonized scream.

"You're doing great, Tommy. Just one more to go," Dream says in a soft, comforting tone as Tommy lets out a sob, trembling violently as his blood runs freely from the remaining stump of his wing.

"D-Dream p-please it h-hurts-" he whines desperately as Dream moves to his other wing, holding it in place. "P-please-"

"Shhh, Tommy. You need to go through suffering to purge you of your sins," Dream says gently, taking a moment to savor that pure desperation and fear, and the way His Tommy is still managing to hold still for Him. "I’m just helping you."

And then He brings His axe down again, and the second wing comes off. And Tommy lets out another agonized wail, slightly longer than the last one, before devolving into harsh sobs again.

"There you go, Tommy," Dream says, letting Nightmare disappear once again before moving back in front of Tommy, taking in the sight of His angel, sobbing and kneeling with his now detached wings on either side of him. He reaches out to gently hold the side of Tommy's face, wiping away a tear, and tracing the curved scar that makes up half of a permanent smile, fondness and amusement filling Him as Tommy leans into the touch, desperate for comfort.

Dream then pulls him into hug, unbothered by the amount of blood now soaking the back of Tommy's hoodie. Tommy whines as he melts into Dream's arms, clinging tightly to Him, or at least as tightly as he can while already weak from blood loss.

"That's it, little angel," Dream says, hugging him a little tighter and letting His own wings surround him protectively. He giggles a little bit, relishing in His power over Tommy. "Mine. My Tommy."

"Y-Yours," He hears Tommy whimper quietly, seemingly without even realizing it, much to His utter delight. So perfect. Sometimes even He is surprised by just how deep His control runs.

Dream gently cards His fingers through Tommy's hair, thinking about the various things He could do with Tommy's wings now, and continuing to hold him until he eventually goes limp.

[toastandjamie]

Okay so this is genuinely just me screaming into the void, no tags, just word vomit.

So like- I’ve been in the wheel of time fandom for not a super long time, I only finished reading the series itself recently actually, though that was mostly because I procrastinated finish memory of light months lol- the point is, I haven’t been here that long but the experience of being in this fandom has already been a vast improvement from my previous one.

I was in Dream SMP fandom for like, three or four years, because covid and my adhd brain decided Tommyinnit was a serotonin machine. I only really watched a few of the creators on the SMP, and wasn’t really involved in the more- intense parts of the fandom. I enjoyed the fanart, the fan music and the lore discussions. It was genuinely a very good time. But I’ve realized recently just his utterly exhausting and stressful having been hyper fixated and invested in the fandom it was. I didn’t even watch Dream, the majority of the creators I watched weren’t even really ever involved in most drama, I mean some of them rarely if at all interacted with Dream. Yet anytime he got cancelled it would seep into every inch of the fandom and suddenly my feed despite my best efforts to curate would be absolutely unbearable for days on end. I don’t have Twitter, tumblr is really the only social media I use and I was never super involved in the negative aspects so while I never experienced this myself I saw plenty of it. Death threats, doxxing and just generally incredibly unpleasant behavior from people inside the fandom and out. I STILL get anxious mentioning the fact that I like the Sorry Boys and LoveJoy lest someone accuses me of being a Dream stan of all things. Not because I have any strong feelings about Dream, because I don’t. I never cared about the guy, but everything he did somehow reflected on everyone. This weird “guilty by association” thing.

My interest steadily waned as a got into Wheel of Time and then the SMP ended and I stopped participating in the fandom now fully invested in WoT. Some of the creators I still watch and like but I’m no longer invested. And something I noticed was how much less stressful it’s been. Maybe it’s just because I’m on tumblr but everyone has been so kind and the worst discourse I’ve seen is about whether or not the show is good which is a vastly different vibe then the near constant vitriol that proliferated the DSMP fandom. Maybe it’s because the fandoms older, or maybe it’s just because I’m on tumblr only but I’ve really enjoyed the interactions and conversations I’ve had since joining the fandom. And when I tell you the relief I felt when Dream got himself cancelled again and I didn’t feel a pit in my stomach because it’s no longer relevant to me. Bliss. Pure bliss. It is well and truly, not my circus not my monkeys.

[squeiky]

Sometimes I get really sad and lonely and then I scroll through tumblr.

I think I have to start making a routine to walk outside, but i keep making excuses not too. The only outside place I want to be is on my porch and a park that’s 30 minutes away.

I’m really lonely apparently. It’s a side effect of having very little of a social life (aside from the few interactions on here. Since I don’t interact with anyone on any other site tbh.)

I think it’s just easy for me to be alone. Like I’m sure I developed some kind of abandonment issues and I’m fully aware of how it makes me feel- and that might be why i keep avoiding irl interactions.

Everything feels easier here. No anxiety no pressure. I know people here are okay and already know my goofy little self. I don’t have to worry about appearances and present how I desire. I don’t feel trapped.

I can scream into the void here. I can keep screaming and maybe one day, someone might just scream back. It’s a good feeling.

I keep feeling guilty for posting or rebloging so much. I look at other people getting asks or interactions as “successes”. I see comments and tags and it’s “success”. At what? Hell if I know. Perhaps some social game like popularity, or the fact that somebody is liked enough to have people talk to them.

Ugh, I used to read my old blog posts from an account long abandoned. Reeked of insecurity. I see myself falling back into that spiral over and over again whenever the darkness creeps up a little to closely. Like I can only eve ignore it for so long, until I’m back to screaming again like I am now.

It’s like that stupid feeling, like someone in the back of my mind is screaming “please be with me.” It’s crying all the time.

I don’t know what freindship is, I only see people in black and whites of “useful” and “not useful” the definition of useful isnt exact and varies person to person, but I recognize this is my thought process.

I guess there’s the guilt of it all too. Some underlying shame or guilt constantly pestering me. I hate annoying things and it’s really annoying.

I’m young, and I’m still figuring things out. Though that doesn’t really invalidate or solve how I feel now. Idk.

At some point in time I forgot how to talk to people in real life. It’s like when I do my soul leaves my body and I just go on autopilot. Only to return to a state of constant evaluation and analysis (which are my saviors).

Sometimes I just want to stay broken. Or maybe I was never broken to begin with. I don’t know. I’m sad and buttnaked writing this at 11:54 because I’m slowly developing a fear of sleeping (technically I just have s very strong desire to stay awake for no reason in particular.)

I fucked up with the alt descriptions for my art. I’m unsure if I’m making excuses not to make alts because it’s too much effort-or it’s something else.all I know is that I feel guilty about it.

I hate guilt (or is what I feel shame? I’m uncertain). I wish I never felt it. It’s a disgusting feeling that only does me bad. Usually I can just determine via logic when ive fucked up. But if what I feel is guilt then I do not like it. I wish it wasn’t there I wish it didn’t exist because it annoys me.

I cleared out my wounds too. I’m hopping I made it better by opening up a covered path that was clogging the infection gunk from getting out- and some dead skin. Getting hurt sucks.I thought I would be stronger. But I am reminded I am frail.

Screaming into the void in hopes of a freind. It’s a strange habit to have. Always screaming never a reply. I wish I could make things like this one person I follow. I’ve never seen them ever sad about their lack of interactions (atleast in this platform). I’m trying to be like that. But it sucks that I can’t register likes Orin the same way I do as reason people’s tags or comments or seeing their reblogs.

Since I’m always reblogging other peoples stuff, there’s always that nagging feeling when ever I make my own shit that it’s never enough.

One day though I think I’ll feel “enough”. I’ll drink champagne on that day and eat a chocolate cupcake. Just like a birthday celebration.

[pilots-and-protons]

Ok I’ve been reading a ton of Tom Paris related fanfic lately (with many different pairings), and I just need to talk about two Big Pet Peeves I have regarding certain uh, “tropes” - especially in older fanfic (from the 90′s and early 2000′s).

Head’s Up: I’m not trying to pick on anyone or start shit, I just really need somewhere to vent about WHY these two specific things bother me, so it’s going to be under the cut. This is my side-blog and I literally made it just to scream into the void about Tom Paris and Star Trek, okay?

Just be aware that I’m going to be talking about my own personal opinions and I don’t know how to NOT be intense about my autistic special interest (AKA any aspect of Star Trek). So don’t read unless you don’t mind hearing my thoughts about other people’s writing/character choices in fanfiction, and I definitely don’t want to hear anyone arguing with me because that’s not why I’m here. 

Anyways if you’re fine and dandy with that, then by all means you’re welcome to read more. Or don’t, I don’t really care.

Ok so there are two specific things that I noticed appear rather often in many Tom-centric fanfics, and they really bother me.

ok there’s also the prison rape thing, but that’s a whole other can of worms

ANYWAYS, my issues are:

#1: Taking the blame for Caldik Prime away from Tom

#2: Conflating Tom Paris with Nick Locarno

To explain the first one, I’m talking about there being multiple fanfics (from many different authors), where either:

- We’re given a reason why Tom wasn’t actually at fault for the accident (there was something unknowingly wrong with the ship, he was an undercover agent and it never really happened, etc.)

- The author tries to soften the blow by explaining why Tom messed up (he was emotionally compromised, for example, because his mother had died, or some big fight/problem with his father had just happened, etc.)

- Or the author tries to say that Tom never wanted to lie about the accident in the first place (he was unconscious/too wounded and his father lied for him, he was coerced into lying from either indirect or direct pressure from his father, etc.)

And personally? I have a problem with all of these. A huge foundation of Tom’s character is that he messed up in the past - big time. It’s something he had to learn from and grow. It affects so many aspects of his character - like wanting to offer support to Seven because he knows what it’s like to want to put your past behind you. And, at least in my own personal opinion, it’s why he’s the one that finds the error in “Timeless” - because he’s not willing to put other people’s lives at risk ever again.

But not once does Tom ever try to push the blame for this mistake on anyone else. The very first thing we hear about it from his own mouth is to tell Harry that yeah, it was his fault and he shouldn’t have lied about it. He knows this, he accepts this, and is even prepared to put up with the backlash for it (which, as we see from the original Voyager Doctor and Cavvit, is probably pretty common).

I understand that people probably felt bad for Tom or maybe just wanted some extra angst, but it feels so wrong to remove this from his character. It negates the growth he goes through - getting rid of the chip on his shoulder, learning to trust people and open himself up. It also negates the good aspects that came from something awful - he did tell the truth in the end, even though it ruined his Starfleet career. That shows what kind of person he really is, to have owned up to his mistakes even though, in his own words, he would have gotten away with it if he hadn’t.

Now for the second issue: meshing together Tom Paris with Nick Locarno.

I’ve seen fanfics where the people who died at Caldik Prime were Tom’s friends (this is sometimes also a reference to Pathways, which I don’t find canon either). There were fics where Tom blamed the accident on one of the dead officers like Locarno did in “The First Duty, and I’ve even seen someone referencing the Kolvoord Starburst as the reason why Tom’s accident happened. In some ways I get it, because we don’t know hardly any details about Tom’s past history so I can understand why many people decided to mesh the two characters together - especially because Locarno was the initial starting point for the idea of Tom Paris. 

The thing is, it bugs me - both because Nick Locarno’s character was much nastier than Tom’s, and also because canon explicitly contradicts this possibility.  

First of all, Locarno was expelled from the Academy - but Tom was thrown own of Starfleet. He had already graduated and was even serving aboard a Starship at some point before Caldik Prime. These are canonical facts that we know, and probably came from the writers intentionally deciding to separate the two characters. Second, there isn’t a single reference to Tom’s relationship with the people who died at Caldik prime other than his own reference of “those three dead officers” - not his friends, not cadets. Even as bitter as he is in the first season, Tom Paris doesn’t seem like the type to be that detached if he had gotten his own friends killed. 

But also, Nick Locarno did not confess to what he did. And that is such an important distinction between the two. Tom fessed up - Nick Locarno was caught, and the only semi-decent thing he did was convince the higher-ups to spare his team the full punishment. It's also implied that Nick Locarno used his position as team leader to pressure the rest of Nova Squadron into trying a very dangerous and banned maneuver in the first place - to boost his own ego. And when things started to get dicey, he blamed the accident on the cadet who had died, to save himself and his team.

Tom Paris never did any of those things, and it feels pretty damaging to his character to lump the two in together. There is no canonical evidence to suggest that Tom was trying anything dangerous, that he blamed anyone for the accident, or anything like what we know Nick Locarno did. All we know for sure is that it was a pilot error and that he lied, falsifying reports. But he makes it clear to Harry that he would have been home free if he’d just stuck to his lie. Nick Locarno was, if nothing else, facing a mark on his permanent record and a group of Academy officials who clearly thought he was lying already, but just couldn’t prove it. If we can go by Tom’s own words, he was facing much better circumstances, but chose to come clean anyways - because of his own conscious. Because deep down, Tom is a decent person and we see that throughout the rest of Voyager.

Personally, I think the best description of the character’s differences came from Robert Duncan McNeill himself - when he said that Nick Locarno seemed nice on the outside, but was a terrible person on the inside. Whereas Tom Paris had made mistakes and pushed people away, but deep down was a good person (I’m paraphrasing, but you get the point).

So yeah, both of these tropes bug me - one because it tries to make Tom into a less flawed person (maybe to seem more likeable somehow?), and the other because it turns him into a much more selfish and unlikeable character when there’s no reason to.

Anyways I just needed to get that off my chest.

[ladyazulina]

Writing Habits Tag

I saw this on @cwritesfiction and thought about giving it a try, it seemed fun!

RULES: Bold/color the things that you relate to and then tag some people to play.

I write: daily | most days | a few times a week | a few times a month | random | what's writing?

I write most often: when I first get up | later in the morning | afternoon | evening | the wee hours of the night | whenever | what's consistency?

In one sitting, I tend to write: a few sentences at a time | a few hundred words | a few thousand words | a complete chapter/section no matter how long | an outline | whatever comes | a word

I tend to write scenes: in chronological order with no skipping | mostly in order but with some filler/skipping | whatever scene I feel like | who knows what’s gonna come out

The things that come easiest to me are: dialogue | description of senses | description of action | description of characters | exposition | other | I just write, okay?

I tend to write: on a phone | on a laptop | in a notebook | on whatever paper I can find | with speech to text | in the blood of my enemies | it doesn’t really matter to me | on paper first and then typed up | old school typewriter (I wish) | on a computer | if I don't write on a physical keyboard I'm not writing

When I take a break from writing, it usually lasts: a few days | a few weeks | a few months | it’s kind of random | I don't take a break from writing, writing takes a break from me

My favorite thing to do when I’m on a writing break is: recharge with other creative hobbies | read/consume other media | do something physical | catch up with old friends | work on my WIP in other ways like with playlists or art | other | who says I can do something when on a break? | sits still and screams into the void of my own mind | suffers from not being able to write | loses hope of ever being able to write again

In general, I think my writing habits are: pretty much what I need them to be | okay, but I’m working on making them better | non-existent | not great | I’m excited to develop them further | totally random | perfect for me

[pintobordeaux]

Okay okay 2023 here I come! I’ve thought about this a lot the last couple of weeks. Trying to reflect on what I’ve accomplished and where I want to go. I don’t brag often but I’m gonna spend a moment here and scream it into the void because I’m really proud of myself

In 2022 I -

Moved into my own place! I’ve wanted to live alone for the past 10 years and haven’t been able to do it until now. And it’s been life affirming and amazing for me and exactly what I was hoping for.

Lost weight! I did it. I lost 50 lbs this year which is something I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do. I’ve still got fitness goals to reach but it’s been a wild ride even getting this far.

I re-discovered my love for drawing and writing and did some of both! Grad school kicked my ass in 2020 and it’s taken me a long time for burnout from it to feel like creating again. And I’m SO proud of what I’ve accomplished and done and the friendships and partners I’ve made along the way.

In 2023 I’d like to -

Continue writing and making art! I finally started working on my big scary 10+ year WIP that’s been in my head for a fandom that’s near dead and only has about 200 fics total for the specific fandom/paring parameters I’m writing in. I am so excited though. It needs to exist even if it takes me years to do it and no one ever reads it. On the art front I just want to make some more things as gifts to go with all of the lovely writing I read. There are still so many authors I appreciate and want to make something for as a thank you for all the time and love they put in and the enjoyment I’ve gotten from their works.

Accomplish some of my fitness goals. Mostly I just want to be able to lift a heavy-ish box without hurting myself. (Only got two bio knees and i’d like to keep em for now) Last year I just had the goal of “go up a flight of stairs without being winded” and managed to get as much as I got done. Now I can go up several without being winded! In your face 2021!

TBH this one is the most personal- but I think I’d like to find a partner this year. Or hell just kiss another human at least once. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve bothered because I’ve just been too wrapped up in my own stuff/dating has just seemed to exhausting to even think about. It’ll be okay if this one doesn’t happen, but I’m definitely feeling like I’m in a good place to even try this year.

All in all for as much as the last few years have been hard for everyone, but I really feel like I had an overall good one. I can see myself slowly becoming the person I always dreamed about growing up. Kinda funky, kinda odd, but very passionate and just loving being able to dip into whatever I’m interested in and having a good time. The horrors of adulting and bills will always be there, but I finally feel like I hit a stride of balance that I want to continue.

If I could look back and talk to teenage me I would want to show her the me now. Tell her that “hey the saying ‘it gets better’ feels like bullshit but kid it really will get better.”

2023 here I come!

[oldflyingraven]

Day 26: No one left behind

Prompt: Seperated

Grian took a last deep breath before jumping in as well, expecting to pop in right next to Taurtis on the other side.  Instead he landed painfully on the end stone with nobody in sight.

Read it here or on AO3!

@whumptober-archive

“Are you ready Gri?” Pearls excited voice drew him away from the portal. Besides her stood Martyn and Taurtis.

“As i’ll ever be,” he responded with trepidation. He’d never fought the Ender dragon before. And this was an older version too!

“You’ll have us by your side man! It’s gonna be fine,” Martyn said, patting him on the back.

“Three, two, one, let’s go!” Taurtis shouted. Then, he took a leap and jumped into the portal.

Grian took a last deep breath before jumping in as well, expecting to pop in right next to Taurtis on the other side.

Instead he landed painfully on the end stone with nobody in sight. “Taurtis?” he called out shakily.

Nobody responded.

“Martyn? Pearl?!” his voice rose.

But nobody responded.

A mighty roar above him almost made him fall off of the platform he’d spawned on. He dropped to the ground, curling up to make himself less visible. Then, he grabbed his communicator. His friends’s achievements were all visible in chat, but nobody was around him!

Grian: guys?

Grian: where are you?!

Martyn: why am I alone on the platform?

Pearlescentmoon: I’m in the end like you guys but you’re not here

Taurtis: this is bad

Martyn: did we glitch?

Bad. This was so bad. Here he was, alone. Fighting a foe he’d never seen before. Taking in a shaky breath he tried to remember what Martyn had told him. Towers first, then the dragon. He quickly bridged to the main island and shot at the first crystal. It exploded violently. But it also got the attention of the dragon. She immediately swooped towards him and hit him with a fireball. It shot him backwards straight into the void.

He respawned back on the platform in the end.

He didn’t scream when he woke up. The only noise he could make were panicked, shallow breaths and whimpers. Alone. He was alone in the room. No Pearl, no Martyn, no Taurtis. For all he knew a Watcher could show up any second and take him back. After all, that was what had happened the last time he’d been separated from his friends. He stumbled out of bed. Practically falling out of the door he tried to remember the way outside. He needed to see someone. Anyone!

“Grian?” Mumbo asked with concern. The relief of seeing another person made his weak legs buckle. “Woah!” bless his quick reflexes. He managed to catch Grian before he hit the ground. They sunk to the ground together. “You’re okay, you’re okay. You’re safe,” Mumbo said, running his hand through Grian’s hair.

“Pearl- I need to see- where are they?” Grian sobbed. “Taurtis is gone, where are- the rest- I need- I can’t,”

“They still register as active. Martyn and Pearl at least. I’m sure they’re in hiding somewhere,” Mumbo said gently.

Grian whimpered. “But Taurtis is gone.”

There was nothing Mumbo could say except “I’m sorry.”

“I saw it happen,” the broken confession fell from Grian’s lips before he could stop it. “They forced me to watch while Evo collapsed. I saw Pearl and Martyn- they escaped before it was consumed but Taurtis- he wasn’t- he couldn’t- get away. I saw how his code was erased. Just- he vanished while he s-” he couldn’t finish.

Mumbo cursed under his breath. “That’s- I’m sorry doesn’t cut it,” he said.  

“I’m scared- I don’t want to lose you as well.”

“You won’t. I promise,” Mumbo said. “With my whole heart, I promise. Hermitcraft is safe. If you want I can get Xisuma to show you the firewall.”

Grian shook his head. “Don’t leave me alone,” he whispered.

“I won’t. I won’t.”