#not even my dab pen is saving me . Shit is quite bad!!!!!

[girlgen1us]

feel so stupidly horribly miserably painfully Bad . Lol

[solcheeky]

our secret

summary: fratboy!donghyuck turns paperboy! when he needs some extra money for college stuff like textbooks. he thinks delivering way outside of campus will save face from being a measly paperboy, but little does he know, the front yard light he hits (and breaks) belongs to his significantly well off classmate... (3k)

warnings: strong language here and there genre: enemies to ..friends? a/n: I’ve merged these two requests together! meaning I have and haven’t included aspects of each, hope that’s okay! (2021 edit: hi I found this in my drafts from last year and idk why I never posted it so yeah, here we go)

“You’re late.” Your professor calls out as Donghyuck fails to sneak into lecture hall unnoticed

You sigh, you’d think he’d at least look ashamed to step foot into class at such a late time

You suppose with Lee Donghyuck, things were always different

The boy winces comically, inhaling between his teeth brazenly, and students stifle their laughter

Then with a simple raise of his hand, he gestures a flimsy ‘my bad’ and a ‘continue, continue’ before charmingly wiping the sweat off his brow and sitting in the empty seat saved by his friends

The professor frowns, “you’re late.” He repeats as if to encourage the young rebel to at least say something

“I’m Haechan,” the rebel says under his breath, flopping his backpack onto the desk, “not ‘late’” a sarcastic smile stretching his lips as his friends snicker at his dumb joke

You roll your eyes, he was unbelievable.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” The professor claps his hands. “And Mr. Late,” he emphasizes, “don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

So he drops it on him like a bomb: “For the rest of this week, meet me in the office an hour before classes start.”

The grin on Donghyuck’s face immediately wipes off his face and his heart drops to his stomach

“Prof!” He whines back

Karma, you think. That’s what he gets for being so up his own ass

It wouldn’t kill him to wake up a little bit earlier. He relied so much on his ‘so loveable’ personality and popularity, you couldn’t stand it

If you even attempted to do half the things he got away with, you’d be expelled by now

You drop your pen and lean back into your seat with a sigh, you had no choice but to sit back and watch him waste valuable lesson time over this insolence

“You can’t do that!” Seriously, Donghyuck would do anything else other than doing extra hours in the morning

“And you can’t be late to my lectures all the time. What are you not getting here Mr. Late?”

“But I can’t.” Donghyuck immediately regrets saying that out loud like that; the vulnerability in his voice a little too close to home

“And, why not?” Your professor bounces back thankfully brushing past the genuine desperation in his students voice

The reason why not was something ‘Lee Haechan’ couldn’t say out loud. If he did, he’d lose everything

So instead, he sticks with his usual tongue-in-cheek mannerism, “because I don’t want to.”—A sneaky beat around the bush on his part because, little did everyone know, Lee Haechan, the star player and everyone’s favorite goofball, was a measly paperboy

Why?

Because he was dumb broke.

It was a job that required him waking up extra early to race around neighborhoods on his bike, something he had to do regardless rain or sun just tossing as many papers onto people's front porches,

Something he already was finding so much of a difficulty doing: racing to class and acting as if his muscles weren’t burning or the fabric under is backpack wasn’t drenched in sweat

But now this ‘meet me in the office an hour earlier than classes start’ bullshit

That would mean he’d have to wake up even earlier than he already did!

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, you���re going to.” Is the last thing your professor says on that topic before swiftly moving on.

Oh to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is what he always thinks as he cycles his rounds in the wealthy neighborhood

If there was one thing he didn’t have, it was this. 

He looks at the blaringly affluent homes that surrounded him and heaves another sigh, the same road he rides every morning (and now this extra early morning) effortlessly reminding him of how absolutely poor his ass was

Grumbling under his breath in a tantrum about his professor in his head, he angrily hurls newspapers onto doorsteps

It was the fact that he had to deal with this at ungodly hours in the morning—as if this job wasn’t already enough

Donghyuck frustratedly hurls another newspaper, but this time around, it shoots straight into someone's front garden post light, knocking it over and completely disrupting the perfect order in which the other trail of foot lights were set in

What the heck?

Immediately, he hits the breaks, his tires screeching loudly in the quietness of the early morning

Profanities frantically leave his lips as he hurriedly drops his bike onto the sidewalk in a clatter, and runs ahead to see the damage he’s made

The lamp was perfectly struck to its side.

Well, that’s just great—he can’t afford college textbooks let alone the broken path lamp on some rich persons lawn

So, his first thoughts are to pull it back into the place, completely irrational, but it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he’s on a time crunch to get off private property

Except, the damn thing is stuck; literally cemented into this lopsided tilt

Man, Donghyuck swears he could tug all day and it wouldn’t get back into place

It was like the universe was having fun being against him

You, on the other hand, were watching this boy struggle to fix your light back into place from the comfort of your window.

He looked ridiculously cute trying to tug that lamp back into place, curled almost into a ball in the middle of your lawn, his eyebrows sewn into a line of frustration and lips pursed

You knew he was your paperboy from the start of his laborious cycling trips, but did Donghyuck know he was delivering papers to his very own classmate every morning?

You guess not.

...Until now

You knock three times from behind the glass, successfully capturing the boy's attention before mouthing, “what are you doing?”

The agitation on his features drops and immediately his eyes widen at your familiar face

Except, he isn’t given much time to reply before the lamp between his fingers gives in to his weight and recoils back smacking him right in the nose

“Holy shit!” You forget you’re only in socks when you open your front door and race towards him

Donghyuck automatically drops the (now broken) piece of your lawn to cup his bruising face

“Ah- Fucking shit- Ow!” He bends forwards on his knees into the grass, forehead pressing into your lawn before he rocks back up again to scrunch a deep frown up towards the sky. “Jesus-”

“Are you okay?!” Dropping to your knees, you place a cautious hand to his back

“Yes.” He groans into his palms, rocking back down towards the grass again

He definitely wasn’t.

But he needed to get out of there quick; there’s no way he’d let you recognize him

Yeah, you weren’t that stupid.

“Let me see,” you carefully bring him up by his shoulders, your head leaning down towards his to see the damage

“No- Ow! Crap-”

“You’re bleeding!” You try to pry at his wrists but he rips away from your hands

That’s when Donghyuck finally looks up to scowl at you; a frown stitched hard into into his forehead, eyes watering, hair all ruffled, but most alarmingly—a scarlet ribbon of blood running down his wrists

“I’m okay.” He muffles into his hands.

And wow did he look like an idiot.

“Sorry about your-” 

“Jesus Hyuck, you’re not fooling anyone.”

The boy visibly stiffens at your choice of his name

“Haechan.” You quickly correct yourself

He gulps

You glance away

“Let’s just put an ice-pack on that.” Then you’re dragging him into your house

“Quit moving!” You dab a wet cloth across the cut above Donghyuck’s lip

“Well, it hurts.” He tries to complain without moving his mouth too much

You purse your lips and Donghyuck attempts to adjust the ice pack on his nose despite your warning

With a sigh, you take his wrist and bring his arm down to his lap, “Hyuck, if you keep-” you feel him stiffen under your touch. “Haechan.” You keep doing that. “Sorry.”

He just diverts his eyes elsewhere and mumbles, “It’s whatever.” under his breath

So, you bring your attention back to cleaning his cut, your cheeks heating up at the thought of how much of a creep you probably were by calling him by his old name

“I’m-”

“Y/n.” His voice was a little clearer this time, a soft frown on his face, “I remember.”

He kind of wished you didn’t though. This was so embarrassing.

You pull the cloth away from his reddening cheeks, that annoyed flustered look on his face pulling at the nostalgia in you

It was only natural to call him ‘Hyuck’ because you had been going to the same school as him for years

Ever since you were kids, through highschool and now somehow, still impossibly in college, you’ve been with him

You almost had every class with the loud idiot back when he was still ‘Donghyuck’

For as long as you could remember, he had always been the center of gravity in every class, his punchy personality and almost too friendly way of speaking easily giving him the ‘popular’ tag 

It made you have a bit of a crush on him when you were younger, but who didn’t? 

Now, you found him irritating. 

The only thought you had about him consisted of wishing he’d stop using his status to his advantage and just come to class right instead of wasting your lesson time

“Can I ask you something?” He dodges your hand for a second, eyes looking down as if to hide away his embarrassment 

“Sure,” you naturally reach forward again to dab his cut, but he stops you at the wrist

“Can you,” you lift your focus away from his lip to the slight grimace on his face, “not tell anyone about this?”

You blink at him, and a muscle works in his jaw

“Seriously, people can’t know about this.” 

But you simply pull your wrist out of his grip and go back to tending to his wound

You hadn’t told anyone since you’d found he was your paperboy, and that was weeks ago. So why was he so worked up?

Hadn’t the situation already called for it anyway? Who in their right mind would tell anyone after this? For you, it was obviously common courtesy

But before you can reply, he tilts his face into your line of vision. “Are you listening to me?” The frown on his face deepens and he instantly brings the ice pack in this hand over his face at the sudden pain through his nose

That attitude of his easily drove you crazy.

“That was a stupid question.” You give up on cleaning the blood on his lip and push the ice-pack deeper into his face, “if you used that stupid, egotistical brain of yours-”

“Ah! Ow- Ooow-”

“Maybe you’d realize I’ve never told anyone about your paper rounds before.”

“Ow!” He wrenches away from your frustrated grip, the look on his face just as annoyed as you. “You’re going to break my nose!” 

“You broke my yard lamp!”

He looks at you with a huff; a slight puff to his reddened cheeks, furrowed brows and tears ever so slightly brimming his eyes

If that lamp didn’t cost about five times the price of his bike he’d say something back.

You easily read that off his expression

“You don’t have to pay for it.” You start to pack up the first-aid kit you’d opened up on your coffee table just to not look at him in the eyes when you say that

As much as he irritated you, you weren’t that petty

“Really?” The genuine doubt in his face relaxing the annoyance in you a little

“Yeah.” Money wasn’t a problem for you, it was his attitude

But the casualness Donghyuck catches in your tone reminds him of the starkly different worlds you live in

So he musters it up within himself to at least show some kind of gratitude, “...Thanks.” 

And it’s almost inaudible when he says it under his breath like that

But you catch it as you pull a bandaid out of the box before you close it

“On one condition.” You turn to look at him dead in the eyes.

One of his brows slightly quirk up in interest

“Hand.”

He opens his palm to you and you purposely slap the bandaid into it.

“Stop coming late to class, you’re wasting everyone's time.”

Instantly, his jaw goes slack. 

Unable to say anything he stares as you rise from your seat in content, first aid kit in hand, before walking behind the sofa towards the kitchen

You didn’t have to say it like that.

He swings an elbow over the back of the couch, “Sorry for bringing you the paper every morning!” Maybe he was a little offended

You turn on your heels to face him, noticing the bandaid now crushed in the fist of the hand he had over the couch and ice-pack abandoned on the coffee table (the full glory of his bruising nose and cut lip on show)

“I said ‘don’t be late’ not ‘don’t bring me the paper’.” Then you disappear into the kitchen.

Donghyuck has to close his eyes for a second, exhaling a frustrated sigh before standing up in a huff and following your footsteps.

How could you say something so insensitive? Yeah, maybe he broke your lamp or whatever, but he tried to fix it!

And sure, he was sort of bleeding over your couch and used your ice pack, but he totally said thanks

“That’s just- You’re so,” He’s standing at the doorway by the time you’re done, bandaid still stuck in the frustrated grip of his hand

“So what, Hyuck?”

Seeing the all star, team favorite class clown crumble at the simple play of his old nickname made something in your stirr

“Insufferable.” 

You? Your lips turn up in amusement. He was the insufferable one, you almost scoff

“You and your big house, fancy first aid kit, stupid lamps on your lawn,” he takes a bold step forward at every reason until he’s one step to being chest to chest, “I’m just trying to do my job, and go to class.”

You look at him straight in the eyes. “Well, you’re hardly succeeding at either of those.”  

You...

Donghyuck runs his tongue across his inner cheek before biting down on his bottom lip in a brazen attempt to act unfazed by that fatal side comment

A coppery, metal taste pricks his tongue, and he realizes he’s reopened up the cut on his lip again

But that was the least of his worries. You had no idea what it was like being broke. If there was anything he didn’t have, it was everything you did. You probably couldn’t even fathom the type of shit he’s had to go through and even more so: hide.

The way you acted as if his biggest problem in life was as easy as brushing the dust of his shoulder just pissed him off.

“Have you ever thought of waking up earlier?” 

Ah, there it was again, Donghyuck wants to roll his eyes

“I sleep late.” He says dryly.

“Then sleep earlier.”

“I have other shit to do, like study.” 

“Then, manage your time better.” If he really wanted to ‘do his job’ and ‘get to class’, he could’ve done it by now.

He was always messing about with friends and organizing parties, stories spread around like wildfire on campus about the things he occupied himself with other than ‘having shit to do like studying’, you weren’t stupid

It was by the end of high school, when you began to see him as a person who valued himself with the amount of friends knew or the amount of partying he did

And at first you were mad that he had the things you never did, but seeing him easily get washed up by it all made you think maybe you didn’t need what he had

Now you figure his ego was so far up his ass he couldn’t even sit right—that’s probably why he couldn’t cycle to class on time

“And don’t use your bike, you’re clearly slow on it.” You tack on.

“I don’t even have a car!” He snaps back

He made you want to pull out your own hair. “Jeez, first this, then that, god Hyuck, you keep-”

“You say that as if it were so easy,” his words overlapping yours as you continue

“-making up so much bullshit because the only thing you really put effort into is your image,” Your words running over his too.

“-if I could get a car, don’t you think I’d have one already?”

“Then I’ll just take you!” That puts both of you to a stop.

“So, quit giving me stupid excuses to ruin my lectures every day.” If the things money could buy were what he needed, you had it

You snatch the bandaid out of his fist, rip it open and harshly stick it across his bottom lip. It was annoying to see him ignore it like that.

“You usually finish an hour before class right?” You frown up at him

Donghyuck opens his mouth then closes it again.

“Because if you reroute and make me the last house, I’ll take you with me by car.”

“What?” He manages to say. What the hell just happened?

a/n: okay so there was a lot more to the story and character development but it ran too long I had to cut it off bc I cba to edit lmao 

also I seemed to have gone way out of the request lines near the end my bad my bad, but I at least hope you’ve enjoyed it! thoughts???? a part 2?

[renjunfromthestars]

slow dancing in the dark

Pairing: Jeno + Reader bestfriend!Jeno

Genre: angst, best friend!au, College!au, Best Friends to Lovers! Au

Song recs: Slow Dancing in the Dark (Joji), Don’t Wanna Fall in Love (KYLE), Best Friend (Rex Orange County), EARFQUAKE (Tyler, The Creator), Apricot Princess (Rex Orange County). CAN’T GET OVER YOU (Joji), Me and Your Mama (Childish Gambino)

Word Count: 3.1k 

Summary: You and Jeno have always had a complicated relationship, but time is running out

Or

Jeno is in love with you, but can never express it the way he needs to

Notes: this one kinda hurt me to write ngl,,,I was real sad so I wrote it in one sitting

Please let me know what you guys think!!! I’m still pretty new to writing

---

Up until yesterday, it’s been months since you and Jeno have been in contact. Even though you go to the same school, you can’t help but think that he is avoiding you. If you’re going to be completely honest with yourself, he definitely is. Classic.

When you feel the slight pang of hurt ripple through your chest, you shake your head, trying to snap out of it. You rather not think about him right now. The 15 spotify playlists you embarrassingly curated denoting the emotional anguish of your most recent Jeno-filled-altercation was enough proof you’ve already spent too much time dwelling on this boy, who by the way, you’ve never even dated.

You have other things to worry about. College decisions are coming out soon, and it's absolutely imperative that you keep your grades in good standing. No school wants to accept a student just to find out that they’re a slacker. Better to be more upfront about you really are to the end, rather than to disappoint others later on. 

Jeno’s idea of school is hitting his dab pen in the bathroom, and sitting through every class high. And apparently, his idea of romance is not doing anything about your ambiguous relationship, and telling you to break up with Jaemin after only a week into dating. It was unholy unfair to Jaemin, and it's not like he's had almost three years to tell you how he feels, only to always come whining to you when you’re with someone else. It was a little different last time though. This is your last year of high school, and you both know it. It’s unlikely you’ll ever have as much time to be with (or to avoid) him at such close proximity--you’re almost definitely going to college out of state. Jeno has told you many times your ass is smart enough to pull it off. 

But that was months ago, things have since died down and there is no use dwelling on the past. You’ve cried enough tears, and you’re tired of waking up with puffy eyes that look like you have been stung by an angry bee hive because of it. According to Renjun, Jeno had stopped sulking in his library during his free period and started playing computer games with him again. See? It’s a thing of the past.

But that didn't stop you from occasionally calling him late at night in your many moments of weakness. I mean, it doesn’t really matter if you’re always met with a dial tone right? If he doesn’t pick up, it’s like you never called in the first place. The end always justifies the means. 

You don’t know why it took you so long to figure out that if you really missed him that  much, you should have probably just shot him a text instead of randomly calling him in the middle of the night. Jeno, like with school, is never prepared for anything. Even if he picked up, he’d probably just stay silent. It happened that one time he actually did pick up, both of you silent, not knowing to say in the moment (silence could also hardly be considered a phone call). 

Looking down at your most recent conversation, you sigh. Even before things became so messed up, you valued his companionship. Things are obviously still tense between you two--you don’t know why you even try.  Jaemin wouldn’t be too happy about it either. 

                                                                              ...

“It just makes me feel like shit when I hear people telling me like, ‘Oh you stole Jeno’s girl.’. You’re my girlfriend, not his.” Jaemin scoffs. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, along with his hold on your hand. 

In an attempt to soothe your angry boyfriend, you rub your thumb over your interlaced fingers soothingly. “I know, I know. I can’t help it if we have history Jaemin, people like to talk.”

“I had a talk with Renjun the other day about you and Jeno, and all the shit he was saying. I thought he was my friend.”

Although he was good friends with both boys, Renjun was admittedly closer to Jeno than Jaemin and there was more to his actions than it seemed just though looking at the surface. He was your closest mutual friend to Jeno, and knew more than anyone about the complicated relationship between you two--maybe a little too well. He respected the decision you made, but it was clear that he thought things should have ended differently.

                                                                          …

When you first see Jeno outside of the glimpses you see in the school hallway, he looks different. His hair is styled differently, with the wispy blonde hair of his hair framing his forehead quite nicely. 

Jeno’s eyes quickly flutter to the ground when you look at him, finding a sudden interest in the rocks on the ground. For a boy who treats his shoes like they’re his babies, he’s awfully unconcerned with the scuff marks that begin to appear on his Air Force Logos when he digs a rock into the ground.

“Where do you want to eat?” you ask, walking around him to open the passenger seat of his car.

Jeno looks like he regrets ever even agreeing to meet you for lunch in the first place, with his eyebrows furrowing and as indicated with the speed in which he gets in his new BMW.

“Chick-Fil-A.” He mumbles, pressing the start button on his car.

“Unbelievable. You want to go to Chick-Fil-A? ” you scoff. “We always go to Chick-Fil-A. Don’t you ever get tired of chicken?” 

Granted, it’s been months since you’ve been there together, but you at least expected some variety. There’s been a lot of buzz about the Popeyes chicken sandwiches these days. 

“No, but I get tired of you whining about my food choice when you asked for my opinion in the first place.”

And just like that, like old times, you both bicker on the car ride to Chick-Fil, this time about chicken sandwiches.

When you finally get to Chick-Fil-A, you manage to order your food without any major altercations, save a blazing glare you shoot Jeno when he says “Ranch is disgusting” when you ask for it to go with your nuggets.

As you sit down and dig into your food, you attempt to make small talk about your post high school plans. 

“University of Buffalo?” you say with a mouthful of fries. “I thought you wanted to stay in state.”

“Yeah I do. But I thought it would be smart to keep some options open” 

“Lee Jeno, keeping his options open? Being prepared?” you tease.

His cheeks flush in embarrassment, and you can’t help but admire how pretty he looks, with sunlight shining on his frame. His lashes are long, and with the way the light is hitting his face, his brown eyes are like pools of  dark honey.

Suddenly becoming hypersensitive to the boy in front of you, and you quickly change the subject. 

“How’s your cousin Jinyoung? I haven’t seen him since I last visited your aunt’s restaurant. He was nice enough to me some free dishes off the menu. I told him he needs any help with his college applications he can ask me.”

Jeno stays quiet, picking at his food as you blab about his cousin. Although you’ve only met him once when he came to visit from New York City, he was a sweet boy and you guys kept in contact. Dismissing it as part of Jeno’s natural propensity towards being quiet, you chatter on for a little while longer until you ask him, “why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Jinyoung died four months ago.” He says in a low voice, lowering his gaze to his lap.

Although there were a handful of others eating their lunch in the restaurant, you can barely process the background chatter as a small noise begins to ring in your ears. “What happened?”

“He was diagnosed with cancer, but he didn’t really tell anyone, ” he said in between sips of his drink . “he was in remission for a while but it came back really bad.”

“He has a younger sister right? It must be hitting her really hard.”

Jeno stays quiet as you fall silent, fidgeting with your fingers on the wooden table. Both of you don’t have much to say as your eyes begin to water in the middle of a Chick-Fil-A. 

Jeno places his hand over yours in comfort as he looks out the window. Life is short, and you can’t help but think how much time you have with him. 

                                                                   ...

Weeks pass, and although Jaemin isn’t exactly overjoyed about the fact that you’ve been seeing Jeno regularly again, he accepts it as what he understands it is--two friends reconciling and just hanging out, which you are eternally grateful for. The issue is that being friends with Jeno is never being just friends. You two have too much history for that. Everyday, the bottled feelings left unresolved over the years are at risk of exploding at any moment--it’s only a matter of time. 

You know you’ve got it bad when you find yourself checking your phone for his messages, or smiling at the thought of him. It’s everything--from the way he picks you up in minutes after an argument with your mom, to the way he drapes his heavy lined jean jacket over you during a particularly cold night.  No matter how hard you tried to suppress it, or how much you thought it would work, it was already over from the start. Even earlier when you two acted like strangers and the days you never even thought onnce about him, he was still in your dreams at night. But this time, Jeno is very much real, and alive in the flesh in front of you. And you don’t know if you want to admit to yourself that these feelings for Jeno are also very much real.

You finally decide to tell him when college decisions come out, after you get into your dream University. Graduation was nearing and it meant new beginnings. No matter how deeply rooted Jeno was in your heart, you needed to let go of the things that were holding you back. At least, it's what you’re telling yourself.

“Jeno...” your voice falters, “I can’t keep doing this with you..”

There’s an unspoken understanding between you two as Jeno runs his fingers through your hair to soothe you, and tells you not to cry while you cry. It’s the middle of the night when you tell him you love him. You should be home. You should be with Jaemin.

On the car ride home, Jeno stays silent.

                                                              …

Jeno calls you when you get home to check on you. When you start to cry again he stays silent for a moment.“Don’t be sad’ he murmurs. We have a lifetime to figure things out.” 

You only cry harder at his words. 

When your sniffles begin to subside, and you’re sound asleep in no time (not a surprise to Jeno, considering all the emotional turmoil you’ve faced tonight) Jeno sighs. He can’t help but feel selfish. Every time you tell him you want nothing more for him to be happy, Jeno’s moral compass can’t help but tear a little at the seams. You seem unaware that to him, happiness is being with you. But Jeno can’t have you. He knows that. They say that if you really love something, you need to let it go. But this is something he isn’t ready to let go of just yet. 

A few weeks ago when you two went out to eat, he notices that he always lets you choose the song on the way there, and what you want from the menu. 

“You know all the things we’re ordering are yours right?”

 You begin to apologize, but you’re soon distracted by the special drink menu the waiter drops on the table.

When your eyes light up at the silly lightbulb boba drink you plan to take home to  your sister, Jeno just sighs and pays for the meal. 

On the car ride home, your shared favorite songs play, and he doesn’t say a word to you. Jeno isn’t the best driver, and you vocalize that by nearly blowing his ear off when he brakes a little too fast at the red stop light. When you grab his hand for support, he lingers a little longer before he lets go. Like usual, he panders around your neighborhood when your house draws close, purposely taking the long way home. Jeno thinks about it some more when he waits for you to walk through the door of your house before driving off.  

Jeno always tells you he loves you when it’s too late. When you get your first boyfriend, he gets a girlfriend and tries to forget about you. It’s painfully obvious how he feels when he not so jokingly tells you to dump that “skinny bean pole” for him. He hates himself for taking you for granted when you broke up with said boyfriend around the time his girlfriend dumps him, telling him “I know you just aren’t happy”. For telling Renjun “Don’t worry about it, I know she loves me.” when he tried to warn him about Jaemin’s budding romance with you, even pleaded for him to make his move. It seems that everyone knows what to do with his feelings better than himself, and all he knows how to do is reap the consequences. 

He usually doesn’t have much to say. But tonight, over the phone, he tells you that he loves you. He tells you that he sees you in his future, and to him, you’re like no other. Jeno tells you that he knows you never meant to hurt him, but he’s been hurting for a while, and he can’t stand to see you with someone else.

But you’re asleep, and you can’t hear him. For the longest time, Jeno has wanted so badly to show you his whole heart. This situation you two are in  isn’t what he wants and he knows you feel the same. He wants to stop being on his Mac Demarco shit, to man up and tell you clearly how he really feels, and maybe, have you be his girlfriend, you know-- instead of messing with some other guy’s girl. 

Even through all of this, Jeno has learned a little secret about love. To love you was never about having you. 

                                                                ...

Twirling in your red dress, your arm wraps around Jaemin’s neck. It’s prom, and graduation is right around the corner.  Smiling, you think to yourself that you have finally succeeded, the end is near. Laughing, gazing, looking up at a face smiling back. But for a split second, you don’t see Jaemin’s face in front of you. You see Jeno. 

The memory of the first day, when his laugh over the phone meant something more to you. His voice brings about some of the happiest times you’ve ever known. Memories of the small moments--late nights--a soft smile--a teasing voice--the warm heat on your face in the midst of a teasing comment, and a boy with a subtle charm to find the way through.

Spontaneous trips and laughter, the occasional periods of silence when the both of you were fed up--people who understood you two, but only enough to get in the way.

The light nod of your head when it first found its way to your shoulder, and the dull feeling of yearning it left when it was gone.

You’re at a children’s playground, and you whine about wanting to fly a kite even though you’re nearly 18. Jeno teases you for being a kid, and for even trying when there was hardly any wind out. When you suggest that he run from behind and try to fly the kite with you, you scold him for the third time that it would only work if he ran slower than you. Jeno laughs and you feel your heart tug a little.

You’re devastated, and when Jaemin asks you if something is wrong, all you do is rest your face in the crook of his neck. You don’t want him to see you crying. You hate yourself for doing this to him. You’re not really a religious person, but sometimes at night, staring into the darkness and slightly trembling, you ask God to make it stop. It hurts. You don’t know how it feels for Jeno. You knew every decision you would make wouldn’t be fair to anyone. What do you do? How will you know? Will you ever know?

You don’t want to admit that might have known all along. You know you’ve known all along. To you, there is no one like Jeno. There is no one like him you’ve ever met that has made you feel this way, and if you weren’t with him, then you would spend your entire life searching in vain. You want to be with him so badly, that when you think about it, your heart grows impossibly heavy. But at the same time, you feel free. The timing is never right. You’re with the wrong people. You’re doing it all wrong. He’s doing it all wrong. We’re doing it all wrong. 

You can’t stop thinking about him in the most difficult way. When you suppress him consciously, he shows up in your dreams, smiling, glowing. Ruffled hair, eye smile and all. You can’t help but think about him every night, and when you see something that reminds you of him. Jeno reminds you of everything sad, everything hard, and at the same time, everything easy. He makes your heart feel so heavy, but also at peace. When he told you that you two had a lifetime to figure it out, you want to believe that if it was meant to be, it would happen. But that’s the hardest part. You don’t know what will happen.

Right now, you know one thing, and you know that you love him. You love him so much it brings you to tears. It makes your hands tremble, your body tremble, your heart tremble. You have such a love for Jeno that even if it wasn’t meant to be you wouldn’t care. You want Jeno to be happy. You want him to be healthy, not do stupid shit, and you want him so badly to love you too, and it would be okay if that didn’t happen. You’ve been delaying it-- you always say to yourself and everyone else you need time. You’ll sit on it, think about it, leave it for later. But it’s been months, and years, and you’re right back at the starting point.

Everytime you tried to convince yourself you weren’t in love, it felt like a dark shadow would cast over you. Because every time you tried to convince yourself you weren’t in love, you realized every bit of you knew you were.

Jeno is your best friend, part of your happiness, and he is your first real love. It’s something you can say with a certainty you’ve never had before.

                                           …

Jeno can feel his heart tear into shreds when he sees you and Jaemin so close. You look beautiful. So beautiful. You’re going away to your dream college and he’ll be many, many miles away from you. Jeno’s cheeks prickle with warmth as his eyes begin to dappen. His heart sinks, just to bobble back up with an expected disbelief. He thought he knew what was coming. 

“There are other things to do without me.” he had told you in the car that night, but the truth is, Jeno doesn’t want to do anything without you. He’s loved you since he met you, and he’s not quite sure that will ever change.

It always hurts. but that's because love isn't perfect, Jeno thinks. He may move on days from now, maybe weeks from now, and could realize he never really loved you.

If he truly loves you, it's never going to be okay, but it will get better. It will get easier. He will be able to go on. 

You might creep into his mind years from now when he finally thought he was over you.

And that's okay, that's what love is.

 It's when his memories come back to him 5 years later, when he wonders how you're doing, maybe if you think about him a little too. But it won't hurt nearly as much and he will realize all that heartbreak did something to heal him.

It's always hard, he thinks, as he walks out of the Prom venue. But he promises himself that it will always get easier.

[thiswasinevitableid]

'this blind date i’m on is awful and you’re sitting there with your friend watching the whole thing go down and i overhear you two talking about how you’re live tweeting this disaster because twitter is eating up the drama' for sternclay if you're still taking prompts? :)

“Yeah, it’s gonna be the uber of secutiry systems, y’know?”

“Uh huh.” Barclay drains the rest of his cider. He’s been here thirty minutes and this guy hasn’t stopped talking about himself for more than two of them.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a personal chef, mostly for athletes-”

“I always wondered why someone would pay for shit like that.”

“Well, sometimes-”

“I mean, it’s just mixing shit together and following a recipe.”

“There’s more-”

“Like, I could probably do your job way easier than you could do mine.”

Barclay is trying hard not to growl, “I think you’d find it trickier than you imagine.”

“Ooh, gettin touchy there big guy? Gonna show me who’s boss?”

“If this is your idea of flirting-”

“Hold that thought, I gotta go take a leak.”

This time Barclay does growl, dropping his head into his hands with frustration. 

There’s snickering behind him.

“Holy shit dude, you’re going viral.” 

Barclay sneaks a peek over his shoulder, finds a youngish woman with a fiery pompadour and a jean vest looking at the phone that a very put-together (and very cute) man next to her.

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “people love a trainwreck. I do feel bad for him though. He seems like a nice guy.”

Are they talking about…

“Hey, what are bad dates for if not livetweeting? Anyhoo, I gotta bounce, Dani’s getting off earlier.” 

The man waves goodbye, then looks forward. Meaning he sees Barclay glaring at him. 

“Oh dear.”

“You’re livetweeting my pain?”

“Yes, as a cautionary tale about dating tech bros.”

“His profile was very vague!” Barclay hisses.

The man gives him a sympathetic look, then holds out his hand, “give me your phone.”

His voice is so calm, in a way that brooks no argument and sends a shiver down Barclay spine as he complies. The man swipes a few times, types something into his own phone. 

“Shitty dude at ten o’clock.” He mutters as he hands the phone back, standing up as soon as he does. 

Barclay doesn’t want him to leave, although he does enjoy watching him go.

“Bathrooms pretty clean, might be nice to get railed in by you.” His date smirks at him.

“What makes you think that’d be my thing?”

“Big guy like you, what else are you gonna want?”

Barclay opens his mouth to say something he’ll probably regret when his phone rings. “J.Stern” flashes on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is your roommate. I am locked out. Also I’m puking. Please help.”

“Shit, be right there.” He clicks the phone off, “Sorry, roommate’s in a jam, I gotta go.”

Then he walks as fast as he can out of the bar. It’s only when he hits the end of the block that he realizes he’s not sure where he���s going.

“Oh good, it worked.” The well-dressed man, Stern, slips his phone into his pocket, hopping up from the bench where he was sitting. Barclay finds them nearly eye to eye, which is rare given his height. 

“Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do after sending your bad date viral. We’ve all been there.” His gaze goes hazy for a moment and then he shudders. 

“I just hadn’t matched with anyone in awhile, thought I may as well give it a shot.”

His stomach rumbles.

“I see he didn’t even have the decency to buy you dinner.”

“We were gonna go after. I even had a list of good places picked out. “ He mutters.

“Oh yes, you said you’re a chef. Pity, I imagine you know all the best spots around here.”

“Yeah, there’s the blind pig,and a place that has the best Chinese dumplings-”

“Dumplings?” Stern looks at him intently, “what kind?”

“Literally every kind you can think of. The place has a menu the size of a magazine.”

“Huh, I’ve been searching all over for a place that serves them.”

“The place is a hole in the wall, most people just walk past it. I could show you, if you want.”

Stern smiles at him, and Barclays heart skips a beat.

“That sounds nice. Let me buy you dinner as an apology for not saving you from your bad date sooner?”

“Deal. I’m Barclay, by the way.” He holds out his hand and Stern takes it.

“Joseph. Pleased to meet you.”

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

Barclay likes taking his friends out to eat, as much as likes cooking for them. He likes introducing them to new things they end up loving, finding places that make their favorites just right. His friends are funny and good company.

But Stern?

Stern is his dream dining companion. 

He knows his favorite dishes, orders a few, but then peppers Barclay with questions about what else he should try, orders more than a few plates on Barclays recommendation. He tells a good story, isn’t afraid of moments of natural silence, and wants to know all about Barclays work, everything from what it’s like to cook in kitchens that aren’t his to what his favorite recipes are. He knows his food too, sheepishly admits to bingeing every flavor of cooking show. 

He also makes the odd noise of enjoyment while eating that is borderline obscene. When he unbuttons his top button and rolls up his sleeves (it’s very warm in the building), Barclay stares a good thirty seconds longer than is polite. 

“Mmm, Barclay, the spice in this is balanced so well. Here, have a bite.” 

Barclay isn’t in the habit of letting people feed him by hand. But he opens his mouth immediately when Stern holds out his fork.

“Good.” Stern smiles and spike of hot need slides under his skin at his tone. Stern seems to realize that he came across sultry, clears his throat, “it’s good, right?” It comes out more casual this time. 

“So good.”

By the time they’ve finished, Barclay can’t bear the thought of ending the evening yet. Hell, he didn’t put a tie on for nothing, he wants a night on the town.

“Anywhere else you wanna go?” He asks.

Stern finishes dabbing his mouth with his napkin, “Well, now that you mention it…”

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

“I found the plot twist a bit forced, didn’t you?” Stern is looking the paperback of a mystery he and Barclay have both read. Barclay nods.

“Yeah, he didn’t quite stick the finish. I liked the ones he wrote under the pen name.”

“You mean the baking themed ones?”

“They’re cozy! Good rainy day reading.” He smiles at Stern, who grins. His hair is not as slicked back as it was at the bar. Barclay wants to get his hands in it, mess it up, ideally while Stern kisses him against the nearest wall. 

Unfortunately, the bookstore is closing in fifteen minutes. 

As they step back out into the street, he notices he’s digested enough that he could plausibly ask Stern for ice cream. 

When he turns, the question evaporates on his lips.

Stern is clearly thinking about “dessert” too, giving Barclay a slow, appreciative once-over that he doesn’t bother to hide. 

“Would you like to continue this evening somewhere more private?” He reaches out, toying with the end of Barclays tie. 

“God yes.”

Stern tugs on the tie, closing the small space between them and kissing Barclay hungrily. 

“I’ll call us a ride.” He murmurs against Barclays mouth, making the larger man whine when he steps away.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a message alert from the dating app, courtesy of the guy he ditched

 U up?

He chuckles, slips his phone back into his pocket. 

Oh yes, he’s up alright. And if the look Joseph is giving him right now is any indication, he’s going to stay that way.

[softspiderling]

you mocha me crazy | t.h.

Summary: an encounter at a coffee shop leaves you with more than a cup full of coffee

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Here With Me by Marshmello

Author’s Note: while doing research for this piece  fell in love with the LA film school *sigh* Germany is so fucking boring. Also be proud of me, I finished writing to pieces today! *yay*

Warnings: swearing, otherwise only fluff!

Word Count: 1,8k cute words

It has been fairly difficult adjusting to the Los Angeles lifestyle, to say the least. Everything was so loud and bright, and the time difference was horrendous.

Los Angeles was nine hours behind your usual time zone; you haven’t even been here for a week and your classes have already started in full force. Even though the courses were so interesting and your fellow students were really nice, you just were so tired and barely found the motivation to smile at other people and exchange phone numbers.

Which was the reason why you were staggering into the nearest coffee shop after your first class of film history, inhaling the smell of freshly ground coffee beans. You stood in line to order as your eyes scanned the display of baked goods, contemplating whether you should pick up a cookie with your coffee.

“Hi, welcome to Yo Jo Coffee, what can I get ya?”

The greeting pulled you from your thoughts and you smiled tiredly at the cheery barista.

“Hey, can I get a large mocha and uh…” you trailed off, biting your lip as you were trying to pick between the cookies. “A double chocolate cookie please,” you decided and fished your wallet out.

“A mocha and a double chocolate cookie coming right up. Name?” the barista asked as her sharpie hovered over the side of a coffee cup.

“Y/N.”

“That’ll be six dollars and 41 cents,” the barista told you and you waved your credit card around, sticking it into the EC cash terminal to pay. As you were handed the cookie in a small paper bag, you moved to the side of the counter to wait for your coffee.

Juggling your cookie in one and your phone in the other hand, you stuffed your wallet back into your backpack, you looked around in the busy coffee shop.

Warm sunlight streamed through the windows and you fingered at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at your chest where your camera was usually hanging off your neck. Emphasis on usually. You were in such a rush in the morning, you forgot to grab the camera.

You broke off a half from the cookie and took a bite, wondering if you should try to capture a few pictures with your phone, when your name was called. You whirled around and smiled at the barista who prepared your coffee, your hand curling around the warm coffee cup.

“Thanks!” you called over your shoulder as you turned to leave, but before you could even take a sip from your mocha, you collided with someone, sending your cup flying and spilling the hot beverage all over you and the person you bumped into.

“Son of a bitch!” you cursed as the scalding fluid soaked your t shirt and most of your bare legs. Now you were really glad that you forgot to take your camera with you, you didn’t even want to imagine having to try to replace your camera. “Shit!” you heard from the other person and you looked up to see a brown haired guy you bumped into. You couldn’t quiet see his face, because he was looking down at his white t shirt. The white t shirt that was stained with brown blotches from your mocha.

“I am so sorry!” you said quickly and grabbed some tissues, starting to pat the other person down. “That’s quiet alright love, I wasn’t looking where I was going either,” he chuckled with a thick English accent and you furrowed a brow.

“You’re English,” you noted pleasantly surprised at the change from the usual American accent and looked up, finally catching a glimpse of his face. Your hands stilled as you see a face in front of you that has been plastered all over the movie posters, his brown hair tucked under a black baseball cap

“You’re Tom Holland,” you blurted out and Tom grinned boyishly at you. “Why yes, I am. Do you mind?” he asked and gestured towards his torso, where your hands were resting.

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” your cheeks tinged pink and you pulled your hands off of him, handing him a few tissues.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you and started dabbing at the stains, before grimacing and giving up. A barista, lugging a bucket and a mop behind him, gave you a dirty look as he started mopping up the puddle on the floor.

“Sorry!” you squawked and picked your empty coffee cup up from the floor before tossing it in the trash can, looking at it longingly.

“Come on, go order another one. My treat,” Tom said to you, noticing your expression. You turn your eyes back to him and he nodded in the direction of the counter, which made you shake your head quickly. “No, you don’t have to! I was the one who bumped into you, I should be the one buying you coffee,” you protested, which only made him chuckle.

“I insist. I am picking up coffees for my friends anyway, what’s one more?” Tom said and you eyed him before giving in, nodding.  

“Fine. I guess you don’t get treated for a coffee from a famous actor every day,” you mumbled and he laughed, walking up to the counter.

“Hi, I’ll have two iced coffees, an americano and…” he trailed off, looking in your direction. “A mocha.” You added, tucking your hair behind your ear, while you watched Tom pay, before following him to the end of the counter.

“So, what do you usually do besides dumping coffee down other people’s shirts?” he asked you curiously.

“I am really sorry about that,” you said again, ducking your head. “I uh, just started at LA film school.”

Tom laughed a genuine laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I am just messing with you, love, it’s not a big deal. So, film school, huh? What are you there for?”

“Cinematography. I am really into making videos and uh, I guess photography,” you told him with a small smile.

“Oh that’s sick. You seem to have the same interests as my younger brother Harry. Can I see some of your stuff?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his interest in you, before nodding, pleased. You liked sharing your work with other people, getting various opinions from different people. Art always affected people differently and you liked watching their reaction.

“Uh, yeah sure. I mainly shoot with my camera and I forgot to grab it when I left in the morning, so I just have a couple pictures on my phone that I can show you,” you reached for your phone and swiped to your gallery to show Tom some of your pictures.

“I took most of them back home, I haven’t been in LA that long, and I am swamped with classes so I didn’t really have the time to take a day off to take pictures,” you explained to him while he peered into your phone screen.

You had noticed that he was leaning over your shoulder to look at your pictures, and even though he wasn’t the tallest guy, you were still quiet shorter than him. His cheek brushed yours gently and you swallowed thickly, turning to look at him.

His face was only a few inches away from yours and you could see the faint freckles that were speckled across his cheeks.

“Your photos are really good,” he said softly and you stared at him, your lips slightly parted, before you cleared your throat and turned away with flushed cheeks. “Thanks,” you mumbled and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I am not the best photographer, can you give me some pointers?” he asked and you look at him amusedly.

“I could try,” you chuckled and he lifted his phone with a grin. “Okay then, look away and act like I am not here, yeah?” Tom instructed you, making you laugh, before doing as you’re told. You can hear a few clicks of the phone as Tom snapped pictures of you, trying your hardest to strike a natural pose.

“I am pretty sure there are a few good ones,” he said proudly as he lowered his phone, swiping through the pictures with you leaning over his shoulder.

“Yeah, they’re not so bad,” you complimented him. Tom managed to capture you with a soft smile, the sun streaming on your face, giving you a golden glow. It was a rather good picture, you had to admit.

“We’ll make a photographer out of you yet.”

Tom smirked at you proudly, pocketing his phone. “I am just that talented.”

“Oh please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes good naturedly. “I got an order for Tom!” the barista called out and Tom lifted his hand, walking over to the counter. You watched his back as he fumbled around with the coffees for quite a while.

“You need any help?” you asked with a grin, your arms crossed.

“No no, I am all good love,” he called over his shoulder, handing the barista a pen before he turned around to you, four coffee cups in a carrier in his hand.

“Here,” Tom said, handing you your coffee.

“Thanks,” you smiled softly, taking a big gulp while the two of you walked out of the coffee shop.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you sighed as you stood outside the doors. Tom chuckled and nodded gesturing to two boys standing by the sidewalk.

“Yeah, my friends are waiting for me and their coffees,” he told you and you nodded. “I gotta get back to class, too,” you said slowly, waiting. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe him giving you his number.

But when he waved at you with a friendly smile, and a “See you around, Y/N.” you realized this was probably your first and last time meeting Tom Holland. With a wave of your hand, you turned on your heel and walked the other way, your cheeks burning.

It was a dream, thinking Tom Holland, out of all people, would give you his phone number after one friendly conversation. He probably met hundreds of people a day, you were merely a friendly face in the mass, you thought bitterly as you sipped on your coffee, heading to your lecture for Digital Editing I.

“Hey, thanks for saving me a seat,” you said to Jane, a friendly girl you’ve met in class.

“Yeah, no worries,” she told you with a smile as you sat down. She eyed your coffee cup before grinning.

“Already picking up guys at coffee shops, huh?” she teased and you looked at her in confusion before turning the coffee cup in your hands, a smile spreading on your face. On the white paper cup, Tom had scribbled his phone number with a black marker, the number adorned with a wide smiley.

“I guess I am,” you chuckled sheepishly, already grabbing your phone. As the lights dimmed and the professor started the lecture, you were typing away on your phone.

Y/N: writing your phone number on my cup was a pretty risky move. What would you have done if I hadn’t seen it?

Your smile widened as your message’s status quickly changed from delivered to read, the ellipses popping up, before disappearing and then reappearing.

Tom: I guess we’ll never find out 😉

Taglist: @sunflowercth

[roger1na]

careful ch7 - john deacon x reader

summary: you are a ballet student at the royal ballet academy. To pay for your tuition, you work part-time at the celebrity gossip magazine, Seven. One fateful day you’re sent to interview a band on the rise, Queen, post-concert and fall in love with the sweetest man on the planet.

word count: 2.4k+

warnings: swearing, some angst(tm)

author’s note: back at it again! honestly again, if you do dance ballet, sorry! my experience is minimal and taken mostly from my friends. as far as i understand, it can go overboard v fast but *shrug emoji*. also i’m p sure queen did not play on john’s birthday but y’know. it’s for the drama. (19.8.1974 really was on a monday thgh 👀)

chapter seven

Morning dawned with a cranky mood, a sweet dream of slightly crooked smiles and barky laughs dissipating as you got up.

Saturday was forecasted to be rainy and grey, as were your spirits as you opted for a cup of black coffee instead of your usual morning tea. The paper was filled with disappointing news and everything seemed bleak. The studio wasn't open on saturdays and you didn't want to work overtime. You finally had a free day.

You opened your leatherbound diary and took out your favourite pen, an expensive looking fountain pen, painted a lovely maroon with gold lettering on the side, pointing to the brand.

August 10th 1974

I finally kissed him yesterday. It feels like something was broken? A pact? A deal? Is there something happening here? What happens next?

There was a weird moment, last night. We were making out and he was there and we were against the apartment building door and it was already opening but I just couldn't have him inside. I'd break my poor little sixteen-year-old-self's heart. To have him stand there would just break the bubble. Don't know what I'm going to do now.

But… I do have feelings for him. I know I've been agonizing over it for the past few weeks but really, he's fantastic. I'm just silly for not being able to Use My Goddamn Mouth And Say It.

You stomped the last period to your sentence rather aggressively and the ink bled through the page. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, dabbing at the ink with your pinkie, though you weren't quite sure how that would help.

You blew on the page gently to make sure the ink was dry before closing the notebook. It had a button on the front and a leather string on the back, which you could wrap around the button to keep the book closed. When buying it, you had scoffed slightly, but eventually, as you filled it with pictures and articles, the notebook became so thick it wouldn't stay shut without you pulling it close tightly.

You had filled it with so many memories. Polaroids of you in your costumes for your recitals, lunches with Rose and Pamela, cute flowers, poetry, lonesome calls for love you clipped out from the morning paper. Around mid-July, it started filling with heart stickers and lyrics from Queen, a flyer from their London show, pictures from the show you had developed with spare cash. You were fondly reminded of that saturday afternoon when you looked at the polaroid of John, grinning stupidly, staring into the camera lenses, but of course it felt like he was staring at you.

Look at you, your thoughts echoed, all sappy on a Saturday morning. But it didn't feel so bad anymore.

The radio filled the house with chatter as you cleaned thoroughly. Saturday was a day for organisation. Setting your calendar straight, doing your meal plans. Y/N Y/L/N was not a woman to be meddled with, not a woman to be messed with, you reminded yourself.

As you were setting up your vacuum cleaner the phone rang. You were huffing, trying to get the damn thing out of the closet, when it pierced the radio sound. But you were so tangled up in vacuum chords that you let it ring, hoping that if it was urgent, the caller would leave a message.

"This is Y/N Y/L/N. I'm probably out and about right now, so leave a message!" Your answering machine beeped.

"Hey, Y/N."

Your breath caught in your throat. It was John.

"Just calling to say, I had a nice time yesterday." Muddled voices in the background made him shush them. "Freddie, I know what to say, you can shut up," you heard him grumble.

"Your dance was… Fuck, I have no cool words to describe it. But it was, y'know, enchanting. Fantastic. I've never seen a recital before but I'm sure that's how it's done." There was a dramatic gasp in the background. "Oh Freddie, shut the fuck up you know I've never seen a ballet show."

"Anyway," he continued. "I hope we can see each other soon. We have a show, in like, uh, a week. Monday 19th. It'd be really great if you could come. Bye then."

The line clicked, and left you in silence. You were standing around, a bit lost in your apartment, until your grip loosened from the vacuum and it cluttered to the floor. You winced at the sound, before dusting yourself off. I'll call him back when I have an answer, you told yourself, although you knew well enough that Monday 19th was empty on your calendar, save for rehearsals until five.

And then, being the foolish girl in love, filled with nerves and sappy thoughts, you didn't call him back.

When your chores were done, the phone just loomed at you ominously. What were you supposed to say? 'Oh yes I heard your message I just didn't pick up, because I'm a big idiot?' 'Oh no, it's not you, it's me and my fear to commit?' You felt like a total mess.

Sunday rolled around, bringing work and training, exhausting hours in the studio. And you still couldn't call him back.

Monday came with a screeching of your alarm and sore muscles. You made the effort to pick up the phone but set it down fast afterward, as if forgetting his number, nerves tingling every where.

Tuesday was filled with appointments and meetings and lunches with friends and training which left you dizzy in the head, slightly insecure about your dance abilities. But anxiety coiled in your stomach as soon as you even looked at the bright red phone.

Wednesday was a nightmare.

It started off with a wake up at 4am, when not even the birds had begun their obnoxious singing. Trudging through the grey streets of London when the morning was chilly made you question a lot of the choices you'd taken to get yourself into this position.

The biggest question on your mind was that you had only been picked as an understudy, so what was wrong with your way of dancing the program? Frances, you didn't see her as inherently better than you. She wasn't chosen because of her skill, to you, she was chosen because of your lack of skill. And it made you sick. You were the second choice. Something was off.

Wednesday was a free training day. Coaches didn't come and fix postures, you were supposed to practice your own routine independently. With exhausting precision, you danced through all your individual parts in the dance. And with every misstep, you felt worse about it, accrediting your failures to your lack of talent, not your lack of sleep or the other million thoughts that swirled in your head.

Lunchtime was drawing near and the other girls tapped out with their obligations, wiping glistening faces on ratty towels they all kept lying around.

"Y/N! D'you want to grab lunch with me or can I go with Pam?" Rose called out to you, and then took a swig from her water bottle, waiting for you to answer.

You straightened your back and stretched, afraid you were losing time and then shook your head. "It's okay, I'll still be here for a bit, no point in waiting on me." A brief expression of concern passed in Rose's eyes but she said nothing.

"Mmkay. See you tomorrow, I guess," she waved before setting off behind Pam, glancing behind her shoulder before the dooor swung closed.

You went back to the beginning of the set and started again. And again. And again. You were losing all sense of time and direction as you jumped and pranced and posed and twirled and it wasn't until you saw the darkening of the sky outside that you realised you were in too deep.

Out of breath, you stopped to take a sip of your water. Your stomach felt empty and the water tasted bad in your mouth. Too metallic, and no longer cold after sitting around all day.

You took a deep breath and shrugged off the slightly increasing nausea and tiredness. "One more time, Y/N," you whispered to an empty studio. And Tchaikovsky's notes filled the room and you set off.

If anybody had been there to see, they would've been entranced with the way you moved, letting the rhythm carry you. But if they'd looked closer, they'd also see the tiredness in your eyes and the barely noticeable sluggishness of your steps.

You leapt gracefully and suddenly your focus was broken. Your head changed positions and you had to look down at your feet, flying in the air and as you saw your feet hit the ground, you knew you had made a mistake.

The shock wave wasn't instant, but the pain came as soon as you were aware that you were on the floor, after figuratively eating dirt. Your ankle throbbed and you felt miserable and alone on the hard floor of a cold dance studio on a sad wednesday night.

The tears came softly and silently, spilling over your cheeks and dripping to the ground. You still couldn't call John back, you still couldn't dance well enough and after five years of control you still couldn't balance your life. So there you sat, feeling sorry for yourself. That you could do very well.

The studio door creaked open softly.

"Y/N?" A soft voice broke the air.

What was he doing here? You quickly wiped your face and straightened your legs, wincing at the pain of your twisted ankle.

"Shit, are you okay?" He rushed to you and skidded on the floor slightly as he sat down, not graceful at all, eyes trying to analyse the damage.

"'M fine," you snapped, angrier than intended.

John flinched back in shock and you instantly regretted your sharp choice of words. He looked at his hands timidly.

"You don't look fine to me," he mumbled.

"I am. Really. It's just been a long day, and-" a sudden sob gurgled to your throat as you tried talking and you had to stop talking to let it pass, involuntary tears falling down your cheeks once again, leaving your face a red mess.

"Oh you daft thing," he muttered and pulled you into a hug. His cologne filled your nose and you breathed in and let the sadness and the frustration wash over you.

You felt stupid, because now, although you had ignored his calls and acted like a total prick, he was there comforting you again. "Stop being so nice to me," you mumbled into his tear stained shirt. It was a red checkered button up that was maybe two sizes too small. Sometimes you wondered about the last time he'd visited a clothes shop.

He pulled away slightly, to tilt your chin up to look into his eyes. "Why? You're acting so silly," he smiled gently and wiped your face slightly, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears.

"Because I'm so stupid! I can't call you back, I say stupid things and I get nervous about kissing and I'm just so fucking…" you trailed off looking for the right word. "Not enough."

John snorted a little bit, trying to hide his giggling. You frowned at him. "'M serious! How're you getting anything but frustrated when you spend time with me!" This resulted in John laughing more.

"Stop, stop, I'll explode," his eyes were crinkling and his smile was wide. You had crossed your arms and were pouting now. He looked at you and his expression softened a little. "You think I don't enjoy spending time with you? Seeing you caught up in dance and loving it? Y/N it's part of all in. Dance is part of all in."

More tears came and you just couldn't stop them. "You're making me cry," you sniffled and wiped your eyes.

"Y/N…" He pursed his lips and smiled gently.

"I'm just not good enough in anything. Second best in dancing. Second best in working. Second best in a relationship."

"Shh," he hushed you gently. "It's not a competition. I know I'm lovely," he teased slightly.

"John!" You grumbled.

"I know, I know." He took hold of your hands. "Y/N, listen." He paused and then kissed your forehead.

"You're enough right here," and then he kissed your nose, "and here," and he continued kissing your face, your cheekbones, the corners of your mouth, your dimples, before landing in the center of your lips. "And everywhere. Just enough for me."

You blinked, the tears finally deciding to stop flowing. "But, I'm really useless at answering calls. I get nervous. And I haven't been in a relationship. Ever. And-"

"Listen," John grabbed your hands and pressed them to his face, his cheeks burning slightly. "That's life. Be careful with all that talk about not being enough. Nobody but you believes it."

"You don't know that."

"Well I don't believe it."

"Oh," you paused. "Thanks."

John burst into fits of giggles. "Hey!" You scolded him.

"I'm sorry, I'll stop, I promise," he grinned mischievously. "But who says thanks to like, a confession of affection?"

"I do." You pinched his cheeks. "Shut up, old man. When are you turning twenty-three again?"

John's eyes lit up. "Of course! That's the special show we're performing on monday 19th. My twenty-third birthday!"

"John that's so great! Of course I'll come."

"Thought so," he smiled.

"Old man," you teased. He booped your nose and pretended to be offended.

"Not all of us can be spry and young anymore," he whined.

"Oh sorry, Mr. Old Man."

John rolled his eyes. "Okay, time to take a look at that ankle. Are you going to be okay?"

He inspected carefully, but the pain had already begun to subside. "It was just a misstep. I'll be fine with a little ice and a tight gauge."

"Mm, if you say so."

"I'm serious! This happens to dancers all the time."

"Okay…" He trailed off then started trying to get up along with you, letting you lean onto him for support, though you didn't really need it. "Have you eaten today?"

"Mm, not really," you replied nonchalantly.

"Jesus, Y/N."

"What? It's been a busy day."

He shook his head, brown hair bouncing about slightly. ”I wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

”Usually I do!”

"I hope so. I like you in one piece.”

”How’d you know to come here?”

”Where else would you be, after going practically MIA for five days?”

”Oh,” you laughed slightly. ”Of course. You're kind of great, John.”

"Thanks." He replied, grinning.

You shoved his shoulder slightly, but felt your heartbeat slow down as you relaxed, wondering how you got to be so lucky.

***

taglist: @fourmisfits @deakysgirl @im-happy-at-home @obsessedwithrogertaylor @itsametaphorbriansblog @rhapso-kei @deacontaylormaymercury @queenmylovely @imgonnabeyourslave @weirdestmentalityphilosopher @thefatbottomedmay @heyyyyyyyleykiyoko @brujademente

[lesbianbruabba]

all of them!

Anon you are trying to kill me but also like..thank you

1: Full name

I’m not stupid, I’m not putting my full real name out. lol

2: Age

Eighteen

3: 3 Fears

Being rejected, depression consuming my life, going deaf or blind

4: 3 things I love

My brother, my friends, music

5: 4 turns on

Gentle caresses, dirty talk, teasing, kink stuff

6: 4 turns off

Uhhh. Pedophilia, scat, incest, racial degradation? I’m going for the most hardcore bad stuff lol

7: My best friend

I have a lot but for simplicity’s sake my bestest is @lettiehigh

8: Sexual orientation

Bisexual

9: My best first date

Lol

10: How tall am I

5′2. correct question is how short am I

11: What do I miss

Special ham sandwiches

12: What time were I born

I don’t fucking know

13: Favourite color

Pink

14: Do I have a crush

I have multiple. 

15: Favourite quote

“They don’t sell cheese at the jewelry store” - my husband Felony Steve

16: Favourite place

My bedroom

17: Favourite food

Chicken nuggets from a hong kong mcdonald’s. They taste like shit in scotland

18: Do I use sarcasm

Sometimes but I’m not that good at it

19: What am I listening to right now

No More Time - Flor

20: First thing I notice in new person

Eyes

21: Shoe size

6.5

22: Eye color

Dark brown/black

23: Hair color

Dark brown/black. it’s gotten darker over the last few years

24: Favourite style of clothing

Frilly or bondage-y. Sometimes both at once

25: Ever done a prank call?

Nope

27: Meaning behind my URL

RPDR fic pen name

28: Favourite movie

RENT

29: Favourite song

Right now it’s Felony Reunion by Felony Steve

30: Favourite band

Waterparks, flor, All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, you can’t make me pick

31: How I feel right now

Lorny

32: Someone I love

My baby brother

33: My current relationship status

Single

34: My relationship with my parents

Rocky but overall it’s fine. It’s like an ongoing negotiation but I know they love me really.

35: Favourite holiday

I went to England when I was 14 with my school. 

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

None

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

Nipple piercings, I want a hip tattoo on my right hip because I haven’t self-harmed there and it’s a bit of a ‘sacred space’ now. someday I want a lyric tattoo, a flower tattoo (roses pls) and a watercolor one. I follow so many tattoo instagrams and they all look so pretty

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

At the very very beginning to make an aesthetic pastel blog. Got into roleplaying for a couple of years, made some good friends, some sad things happened, moved onto rpdr fic, evolved into the mess it is now

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

what ex

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

Good morning snaps from my brother and copyright from @samrull

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

Nope

42: When did I last hold hands?

Not a thing I’ve done in a long time? 

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

Depends on whether I do makeup or not. 10 minutes if I don’t have to, 20-30 if I do.

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

Nope. I don’t shave unless there’s a special event.

45: Where am I right now?

My bedroom in Edi

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

I don’t drink :)

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

reasonable level most of the time. Unless I am feeling particularly apathetic/anhedonic/depressed

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

Back in Hong kong yes

49: Am I excited for anything?

Dan and Phil show, possible trip to Copenhagen, possibly seeing flor, doing fashion design or Danish at uni next year, improving my fluency in languages, my brother visiting Edi, going home and seeing all my friends, going home and seeing my teachers I miss them so much oh my god, possibly seeing one of my crushes again!!

Oh and I’m going to a convention on sunday so that’s pretty great too!

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

Yeah my brother we’re a bit too open

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

depends on how often I leave my room/spend time in others’ company that I’m not comfortable with. 

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

Tuesday at 7:30 pm

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

Cool, thumbs up dude. he kisses well

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

Yeah probably. lbr I trust people too easily

55: What is something I disliked about today?

I didn’t move from my bed much. but! I got a lot of drawing done and I studied some Polish so that’s a win. fuck you for making me think negatively :)

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

there’s this girl in denmark i owe a very long apology to. her. and maybe her cat.

57: What do I think about most?

My crushes, analyzing whether I have a pattern/type of crush, random etymologies, whether Russian is harder than Polish or I have a warped bias, whether my friends care about me or am I overestimating my place in their hearts

58: What’s my strangest talent?

I can say thank you in like 15 languages that counts right?

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

The wolf from little red riding hood

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

In front bc I am shite at taking photos

61: What was the last lie I told?

my meds are making me better

62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Video chatting oh my god

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

I sometimes hope ghosts exist. idk about aliens

64: Do I believe in magic?

No 

65: Do I believe in luck?

yes

66: What’s the weather like right now?

Not that bad for scotland tbh but chilly for late April

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

Essentials of Polish verbs and grammar or something. google it

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

no???? who tf likes that what the fuck

69: Do I have any nicknames?

This one friend I used to have called me Christababe. Also people at school called me Lily

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

Self harm cut from a few weeks ago. Got infected (it’s fine now)

71: Do I spend money or save it?

Depends

72: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

With a tongue sure but not my own lmao

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me?

Yes a lot of it because my closet is next to my bed :)

74: Favourite animal?

Unicorn

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Eating ice cream and surfing the drag race reddit

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

I don’t know???? Johnson?

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

The Middle - Jimmy Eat World

78: How can you win my heart?

Don’t manipulate me.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

Married to Felony Steve

80: What is my favorite word?

Felony

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

Like my faves? @rippling-waves @samrull @lettiehigh @veronicasanders @lecafenoirx

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

Listen to Waterparks they have the best music. -dabs-

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

Nope

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

Fluency in all languages

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

“are you in love with me”. if asked by certain people. alternatively “do you like girls” asked by other certain people. 

86: What is my current desktop picture?

DDLC fanart

87: Had sex?

No but close

88: Bought condoms?

No but I have one from the Hive from a fresher’s package

89: Gotten pregnant?

no dear lord 

90: Failed a class?

Nope and I hope not

91: Kissed a boy?

Yes

92: Kissed a girl?

No, I wish

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

No

94: Had job?

Yes, barista and factory worker

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Yes

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

Kind of? Not really? It was more of an argument but we’re friends now. I was a stupid thirteen year old 

97: Had sex in public?

No

98: Played on a sports team?

Lol, tell another one

99: Smoked weed?

No

100: Did drugs?

No, will not

101: Smoked cigarettes?

No, I hate smoking

102: Drank alcohol?

I had a few sips of white wine that were absolutely DISGUSTING

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

No

104: Been overweight?

Currently am

105: Been underweight?

I wish

106: Been to a wedding?

Yeah of distant relatives and teachers

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

Try 14

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

I don’t watch TV, There’s no tv in my student hall and back home the TV is only for news

109: Been outside my home country?

Yep too many times tbh

110: Gotten my heart broken?

Unrequited love-wise yes

111: Been to a professional sports game?

Yes and spent the whole time reading (I was a kid and my mum couldn’t/didn’t find someone to babysit)

112: Broken a bone?

No, thank god

113: Cut myself?

Yes, trying to quit it

114: Been to prom?

Yep and I sang on stage too! 

115: Been in airplane?

Yep

116: Fly by helicopter?

No and not interested tbh

117: What concerts have I been to?

Waterparks, Avril Lavigne, All Time Low

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

Yes, quite a few times now

119: Learned another language?

Try multiple

120: Wore make up?

Yeah! Trying to do it more

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

No, too late for that now

122: Had oral sex?

No but I want to

123: Dyed my hair?

No but I want to

124: Voted in a presidential election?

No, HK doesn’t have presidential elections

125: Rode in an ambulance?

No

126: Had a surgery?

No

127: Met someone famous?

Famous in Hong Kong yes. Worldwide no. I’ve met the UoE principal though

edit: Iza reminded me that I’ve met both Courtney Act and Sasha Velour! 

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

Yes but not like…creepy. for drawing reference I’ve gone through a lot of people’s social media this morning lol

129: Peed outside?

When I was like 4

130: Been fishing?

Not that I can recall

131: Helped with charity?

Yeah

132: Been rejected by a crush?

No because I’m too much of a wimp to confess. Maybe a few years later

133: Broken a mirror?

Yep, the one I use to wear my contacts (when I used to wear contacts)

134: What do I want for birthday?

Sex and liposuction and a corset and maybe someone to love me and a full happy day with no depression or anxiety

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

I don’t want kids. But if I did have kids, here is a list of nice names: Gracie, Ljudmila, Nico, Agneta (this one sounds really fucking familiar but I don’t know why), Anthony, Selene, Kristoff, James

136: Was I named after anyone?

No. My Chinese name means to have manners and to be gentle lmao. My English name is literally just the first thing I blurted out when the teacher asked me for my name. Wednesday was a name I look after Wednesday Addams though.

137: Do I like my handwriting?

I hate my Chinese and English penmanship it looks like shit but my Cyrillic looks GREAT

138: What was my favourite toy as a child?

Barbie, I had Genevieve from the 12 dancing princesses

139: Favourite Tv Show?

Drag race, b99, ASOUE, the good place

140: Where do I want to live when older?

In Edinburgh

141: Play any musical instrument?

The ukulele and I think I still remember a bit of guitar

142: One of my scars, how did I get it?

Cutting. Most of my scars are from cutting. A few from childhood bruises

143: Favourite pizza toping?

Cheese

144: Am I afraid of the dark?

Sometimes

145: Am I afraid of heights?

all the time

146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

A lot worse than sneaking out buddy

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

Yeah 

148: What I’m really bad at

controlling my fucking feelings and not falling for peple

149: What my greatest achievments are

Sewing my prom dress, making an animation, juggling learning 3 languages (slowly) at once, surviving high school because honestly I didn’t think I’d make it to graduation

150: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

That bisexuality doesn’t exist

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

Depends on how much i win but assuming it’s a big amount of money, split it and donate a third to charity, give a third to my parents, split the rest of it in quarters and give three quarter to my dad for investments and spend the last quarter

152: What do I like about myself

I have pretty hair and nice tits and I can draw (not well but I can draw), and I have a bit of talent in learning languages and fashion design

153: My closest Tumblr friend

@samrull without a doubt

154: Something I fantasise about

My brain giving me a good yummy serotonin

155: Any question you’d like?

….anon you didn’t put a question (this happens every goddamn time i s2g)

Thanks for the ask though this kept me occupied for the good part of an hour :)

[eel-guy]

Valentine’s Day

This fanfic was created by @sumide1711uu for @normalblockconfessions

Rubberdoop

Passion

Ross slammed his hands down on Barry’s desk, startling the younger man. “Barry. Are you ready for the night of your life?”

Barry looked up from his screens, eyeing Ross carefully. He had his usual smile with something mischievous glinting in his eye. When Ross said things like and Barry agreed to them, Barry never got hurt or anything like that. Embarrassed or drunk off his ass didn’t count, but something still didn’t quite feel right. “Am I going to die of embarrassment if I agree?”

Tilting his head left and right, Ross chewed on his bottom lip, trying to come up with an answer that would appease Barry. “Define embarrassment,” he said after a few more than necessary moments of silence.

Barry groaned, going back to his current project. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Also, I’m kinda busy with a project. I have to get it done by next Friday and I’m only half done. So if you don’t mind.” Slipping his headphones back on, the younger man clicked through a few different filters.

Ross nudged the headphones off, speaking over the quiet hum of music flowing out of them, “C’mon, man. You need to take a break and today is the best time. You can save your shit and be back tomorrow, if you want. But please say yes. I don’t want to go by myself.”

Turning off the music, Barry turned his chair to face the Australian. “You have my attention. What did you mean ‘go by myself’? Go where?” Barry sighed, leaning back in the chair, “Is it a strip club again? Because I’m not going to another strip club with you ever again in my entire lifetime.”

Ross waved him off, “I swear it’s not another strip club. It’s… it’s…” Sighing, Ross continued in a softer voice, “It’s a poetry slam night at a local coffee shop.”

Barry hummed something that wasn’t an outright disagreement. How could he immediately say no when Ross, confident, shameless Ross, curled in on himself, rubbing his arm? Ross peeked up when Barry began speaking, “Maybe. How long until we leave? ‘Cause project.”

Without a confident no, Ross lit up. “So you’re coming?” Barry gave a shrug followed by a nod. “Awesome! So it’s like 3 right now? It starts at 8 and I kinda wanna get there early if that’s okay. I mean, I don’t have Steam Train or anything like that, so I’m ready when you are.”

Barry snorted a laugh, “Sounds good, buddy. Give me like a 15 minute warning and I’ll be good.”

Ross nodded, slipping back to his desk. While he didn’t expect Barry to turn him down, they had been talking all week about hanging out this weekend, Ross was still grateful for the yes. It wasn’t the first time he had attended one of the poetry nights, but standing in front of strangers and pouring his heart out was something he’d rather do with a friend, a familiar face, in the crowd.

Ross’ hands itched the entire 4 hours he sat there waiting for time to pass. First they grabbed his pen and tablet, sketching out a new scene for Gameoverse, but eventually the project was quietly abandoned for a more tradition route. Ross drew a few characters he could use for the animation, but he grew tired of that as well. Then his hands dug around in his bag for his poetry book. Finding purchase, Ross pulled it out and began writing more and more words until everything was pouring out of him. The lines started slow, jagged, unfinished, but soon the words danced on the page, mingling with one another blissfully.

While he would never stop such a creative flow except for his bodily needs, Ross paused long enough to check the time and look over to Barry. The editor was chatting away with Ryan about something Ross couldn’t quite hear. There was still 10 minutes to go before Ross would decide it was close enough to get up and pull Barry out of his project. But that was the future and right now Ross was back to staring the pages in front of him. Looking over the poems he managed to bang out, he found one that he decided to read instead of the one Holly had helped Ross pick out. He scribbled down a title along the entire length of it. It was rather short, but something about it was different than the rest of the words littering the book.

Shoving the book back into his bag, Ross stretched before wandering around the office. He had been sitting at his desk the entire time and he was more than grateful for the blood moving in his legs. After the walk and a snack, Ross leaned his hip against Barry’s desk. Barry’s eyes flicked up to Ross, nudging one of the headphones off his ear and waiting for something. Ross crossed his arms to look a bit more confident than he felt, “You about ready to go?”

Barry nodded, “Uh, yeah. Give me like 10 minutes and we’ll go, okay?” Pulling the headphone back over his ear, he turned back to the screens, assuming Ross would give him some space, but no. The Australian hovered over him, watching every click that happened. “Do you need something?”

“No. I just love watching you edit and shit. I mean, I’ve tried my hand at stuff like this for animation, but still, it’s so cool what you’re doing.”

Barry blushed, hunching his shoulders, “Thanks, dude. That means a lot coming from you. You’re such a great friend.”

Nodding, Ross slowly said, “Maybe you can help me out tonight.”

Barry bit back a sigh as he saved the project once more, closing it and taking the headphones off his head. “I swear if this about a strip club or anything like that, then the answer is no.”

Ross waved him off, sinking into himself, “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I want you to read something and tell me your honest wholehearted opinion of it. Because I just wrote it and Holly read the other one, but now that’s not happening because of this one and I need someone to look over it to make sure it sounds okay.”

Barry felt the gears in his head turn. “Oh. You’re reading something tonight? That’s really cool. I didn’t know you wrote! I’d love to read your stuff, if you want. I know it can be really personal and shit and I don’t want to invade your privacy or anything like that.”

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty personal, but I trust you.” After Barry gave a soft smile, Ross walked back to his desk, grabbing his bag. He dropped it on the edge of Barry’s desk before reaching around for the familiar soft leather cover. Ross paused for a second, hands curled around the book. “Um… I don’t know about this anymore.”

Barry patted him on his arm, “You don’t have to show me. I mean, it’s not like it matters a ton to me. Er… Well, what I meant was…”

Ross nodded, pulling the book out. He showed Barry a weak smile, “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I’m just nervous. I only ever really show Hol my stuff. So this is kinda like a big step for me. Not just with you, but the poetry night too.”

After Ross fiddled with the pages for half a minute, Barry stared down at Ross’s handwriting. Poems overlapped with each other, making them impossible to read. Barry looked back at Ross, who was waiting with bated breath. “Uh, dude, I can’t fucking read any of this.”

“What? My handwriting isn’t that bad. Is it?” Ross peered over to look at the literal word vomit he called poems. “Oh, um, this one.” Ross traced a small box around the one he intended to read later.

Barry scanned the words, noting the simple title written along the side. He could envision Ross speaking these words in a dimly lit café in the basement of some music shop or something, see how he would emphasize the words and hear just a touch of his accent come through at the end. After reading it a few more times, Barry wordlessly passed the closed book back to Ross.

“So, do you think it’s okay?”

Barry placed his hands on either side of Ross’s face, which was a bit awkward for both of them since Barry was still seated. “Dude, that was amazing. I can see why you call it Passion.”

“You really think so? Like I could read this and people wouldn’t hiss at me?”

As Barry was about to go on and on about how emotional the piece felt, he backtracked just a touch. “Wait. People hiss at you if it’s bad?”

“Yeah. Snapping is good, hissing is bad. I swear the place is stuck in the 90’s or something.” Ross breathed out a laugh that sounded closer to a wheeze. “Okay. Is it good? If so, can we go?”

Barry turned to his computer one last time, turning the machine off. “Yeah, we’re good.” After Barry grabbed his things, they said goodbye to everyone that was hanging in the main space and left. A few wrong directions from Ross and bad timing on Barry’s part, the pair finally arrived at a normal coffee shop. Barry took one look and said, “I thought it would be sketchier.”

Ross fumbled with his bag, retrieving his poetry book, before snorting. “Now you think it’s stuck in the 90’s too. C’mon. Let’s get inside. The event, I guess, is on the second floor.”

Barry followed Ross through the small crowd of people yearning for an evening fix and up some tucked away, rickety stairs that should have been replaced. Ross sat at the edge of the semi-circle wrapped around a makeshift stage. Taking the spot next to him, Barry noted the whiteness of the older man’s knuckles. “Are you okay, man? I mean, if you’re worried-”

“I’m fine,” Ross hissed out as someone took stage.

“Hello friends of the arts!” The word forced a snort out of Barry and Ross shot him a glare. “Tonight is our open-mic poetry night. To flesh out the evening, we have a few people already lined up.” The speaker listed several names with Ross smack dab in the middle.

The speaker passed the mic to the first person on the list and they went through several poems, or a really long one, Barry couldn’t tell. After a few moments of silences, people began snapping and Barry snapped right along. This went on through three more people before Ross shifted in his seat. Barry placed a hand on the Australian’s arm, “You got this, Ross.”

Ross flashed Barry a shaky smile before standing and making his way over to the center. He took the mic before fumbling to find the right page. His stomach twisting into knots, Ross lost any shred of confidence he had. He scanned the crowd of 30 or 40 people, pausing at Barry, who gave him a thumbs-up and a smile. Ross smiled back, turning back to his book. “Um, I call this one Passion.

“It comes Slowly at first It always does

Soon fast Then faster And faster And faster still

Until it all fades Nothing Numb Alone

Bursting Ideas flow Wave after wave Then a hushed whisper

‘You’re okay.’”

Ross closed the book, looking up at the crowd. No one moved for several seconds before the sounds of fingers snapping filled his ears. Giving the audience a quick bow, he passed the mic to the next person and made his way back to Barry.

Barry clapped him on the back, “That was way better than I thought. I mean, holy fuck. You should read more. Like I would come every night to hear more.”

Ross gave a half-hearted smile, “You really mean that?”

“Of course, man. You’re fucking amazing.”