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vminity21 · 4 years ago

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Wishes instead of Weeds | jhs

Pairing: DanceTeacher!Hoseok x Waitress!Reader, Pharmacist!Jeongguk x Female!Reader

Word Count: 22,502

Genre: angst/fluff/romance/smut

Warning(s): angst involving heartbreak, strong language use, mention of alcohol, eventual smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, breast worship, smutty kissing, potential slow burn? Rated: M

The corner of a faded picture is pressed between your fingertips before thumbing away at some clustered debris covering his face. “Shit,” you whisper between grit teeth, letting your jeans slip from your lap to lightly plop upon the ground. Laundry has been finished hence why the discovery of the picture being found in the pocket brings a wince of pain considering it is one of the few memories you have of the two of you. Your grip loosens to where the photo sways landing face down on the table, your palms sliding along your face and into your hair, sniffling back whatever tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Jeongguk left you without any warning.

It’s been a few weeks, but the blow to the chest still feels as fresh as it did the night you came home from an already eventful day at work, stepping into the kitchen, curling your fingers around the handle of the fridge to notice upon opening it that he still hadn’t eaten his leftovers from his favorite restaurant the pair of you frequented a few evenings prior. In fact, your eyebrows creased when you remembered he never came home last night, nor was he in bed when you awoke that morning to chilly covers and a strange feeling harboring your heart. The burning question prompted you to trail to your room, seeing a letter laying crinkled at the end of the exposed mattress.

You would think you would have panicked, dialing his number countless times until he answered, or even sent a bundle of text messages begging him to tell you where he is- if he’s okay, but knowing how he is a man of space, you did nothing of the sort. None of it changed the way your heart shattered into a million pieces when the words stared back at you, haunting you every night sparking more questions than you wanted to deal with. Nothing prepared you for the endless dread of nausea and the empty feeling consuming your entire being, or the loss of his presence mingled with the hopeless dream of him reappearing to tell you he’s sorry for what he’d done to you. But, there’s nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Hugging your knees to your chest, a faint aroma of his cologne wafts from his jacket hung over the chair across from you. Uncertain of why it had been thrown into the trash, you couldn’t bear to let it go to waste, so instead, it now remains in your vision in hopes of being reunited with its rightful owner. And even now, as tears drip from your chin, you ponder on where everything went wrong, only to find not one answer to reveal itself. There was hardly any fighting. If there were to be a time where the pair of you disagreed upon a matter, Jeongguk would lace your fingers with his, sit you down to discuss the topic at hand. It always resulted in loving grins before he’d lean in to feather a small kiss to your lips.

He told you he loved you as he always did which never incited any suspicions, and though he had his moments of distance, that had never been anything new to you because in the few years of being his girlfriend, he had the days that he wanted to himself in which you gladly let him have. Every decision made, even if it involved a situation as simple as picking a place to eat, both of you would name three places of choice and if a mutual restaurant was said aloud, that would be the result of the evening. Conversation, from what you can decipher, may have dimmed partially, but not much exciting has happened to really talk about other than the promotions of each of your jobs. Hence why there was a celebration at Jeongguk’s favorite restaurant.

You have replayed every scenario from the beginning of the relationship to the end over and over in a relentless loop to the unhealthy point that a slight thud of a headache creates. How can someone leave their significant other, whom they claim they love, without a reason behind it? Even if their reasoning wouldn’t make any sense, at least they have a reason to share. Feeling weak, you rest your chin on your knees, the wrinkled letter that was left for you to find has been placed upon the table only a short distance from the photo you were holding. ‘I’m sorry,’ is scribbled directly in the center of the paper.

Jeongguk never had anything to be sorry for in your mind, until now. With a long, shaky exhale, you use the hem of your sleeve to dry your face, gradually standing to your feet with the intention of putting away the folded laundry to then arranging for bed. Due to your promotion, you’re thankful to discover that you will be making enough money to at least pay the bills for the apartment; with the sudden change of being alone that was one of your top concerns, also not wanting your mother to find out knowing she would send you money immediately. You want to avoid the confession of the breakup, too, because you do not want to feel like a burden to anyone, even if you may have felt that way to him, though you’re not sure if you will ever know. Robotically, the next hour achingly completes before you slip under the sheets, hoping that your day tomorrow will bring you at least a tad bit of strength.

Strong scents of coffee and bacon greet your nose as it does every morning when you arrive at your job that you happen to call your second home. A family member of yours owns the diner that daintily sits off the side of the road surrounded by a recently mowed lawn, and rustic flowerpots gifted by people of the town where a florist visits to ensure the plants will be watered. You’ve always loved the aura of the area, especially with the way people seemed to treat each other, and despite your title being a waitress, which Jeongguk’s parents used to shame until he had stood up for you, you do receive good benefits here. Patting your chest frantically, the rectangular piece of your nametag is felt which relieves you that you hadn’t forgotten about it this morning, bringing enough distraction from the inner heartache you’re trying to suppress.

Clocking in, you briskly scoop up a notepad, helping your co-workers with the breakfast rush; you were promoted to being the assistant manager since you’ve been waitressing here for many years, and thankfully your shifts end at 5:30 pm when your relative takes over, giving you the evenings to yourself. You are mainly responsible for keeping the shelves stocked- placing orders for whatever supplies are needed as well as handling the drawers to ensure the money count is accurate. When you notice one of the employees, Park Jimin is waiting one of the only tables left once the crowd minimizes momentarily, you saunter to the kitchen to check on the chefs since you unfortunately missed greeting them this morning.

“Hey, [Y/N]!” Chef Von says, his puffy cheeks squinting his eyes from how wide he’s smiling- he slaps slabs of meat onto the grill, the sizzling sound popping in your ears, “Are you ready for today?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be!” You reply, squeezing his large shoulder, “What about you?”

“Always,” he chuckles, taking tongs to lightly press the meat harder onto the crackling grill. Another chef, Kim Seokjin, is working on shoving pans of biscuits into the oven, then turning to slice some fruit set off to the side while the dough bakes. Your number one priority when given the chance upon starting your shift is checking on every employee to ensure they’re okay. When all give positive answers, you shuffle behind one of the main counters when first walking into the building to see if any customers need refills. The ding of the door alerts you once you pour a mug of coffee for an individual sitting off to the side, your gaze averting to recognize the tall, thin figure of the restaurant’s regular, Jung Hoseok, hands cuddled into the pockets of his coat, swiftly stepping to the same seat at the counter he occupies every single morning.

A small grin tugs at the corner of your lips, “Long time no see,” you tease, watching the brief tilt of his head that follows a contagious smile, “You want your usual?”

He’s still chuckling, ears bent slightly from the pressure of his cap hiding the majority of his curly hair that peeks enough to decorate his forehead, “You know me so well,” he caves into your joke, clasping his hands together after resting his arms on the counter. Steaming coffee is currently being poured in a mug which you then serve him, “Thank you,” he says, nodding once.

“Of course!” You maintain a cheery façade despite how empty you feel inside, and partly paying attention to what you just jotted down, you place the ticket for Hoseok’s order on the spinning scale before Seokjin swipes it to get started. You divert yourself into cleaning tables that are now vacant from customers, getting lost in the fifteen minutes of helping your co-workers; stacking a pile of plates into your hands you spin on a heel in the direction of the kitchen when someone outside the windows of the restaurant causes you to pause in shock, the plates slipping from your hands where they clash and bang into numerous shattered pieces on the tile floor. Biting your tongue to prevent from cursing, panic overwhelms you while a deep shade of red crimsons your cheeks and chest, sweat perspiring the lining of your forehead from the tension of stares not leaving your frame. By mistake, you thought you saw… But it wasn’t him at all. Jogging to retrieve a broom and dustpan, you sweep the glass shards as efficient as you can, until the silhouette of a co-worker, enters your peripherals.

“Are you okay?” Your best friend, Monica, who you normally call M, asks once you’re a quarter of the way into cleaning.

“Ye-yeah. Yeah,” you stutter, trying to ignore the evident humiliation planted within your expression. M investigates the way your widened eyes have yet to calm, seeing right through your reply.

“I think you need to take a few minutes to breathe,” she offers, and when you can’t seem to clear your head enough to listen, she lightly touches your wrist, “[Y/N], it’s okay, I’ll finish up. Go ahead, take a moment.”

You meet her eyes before nodding in defeat, your quivering chin is enough to tell her that you really haven’t been okay, though she’s unaware of why. The warmth of outside is enough to soothe your skin, your feet determined to make it to one of the picnic tables located on the side of the restaurant where gratefully not a soul happens to be inhabiting. In frustration, you’ve done well masking the truth underlying your hollow smile, or so you thought, but dropping onto the bench, you bury your face in your hands blocking out the crying you fight to hold back.

“Hey…” A tender voice belonging to that of a male springs your gaze up from your stiff hands, shoulders slumping in relief to see it’s Hoseok, though concern clouds his almond eyes.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I hope all that noise didn’t disturb your breakfast,” you apologize, clearly embarrassed, though your grin doesn’t reach your eyes.

Hoseok’s lips part, “No, not at all, in fact, I came to see if you were okay,”

“I am,” you lie because really you are nowhere close to it, but knowing Hoseok made his way to come check on you really means a lot; him being a customer for two years, it’s not like he’s completely a stranger, so at least there’s not any awkward tension.

“Okay, well I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to sit here until you’re okay,” he says, swinging his thin leg over the seat across from you.

“But- but I am okay-” Obviously caught off guard, Hoseok holds an index finger up to stop you,

“Your nametag is upside down.”

“Huh-” Eyes falling to where your nametag is clipped, you mentally scold yourself because although you felt to make sure you hadn’t forgotten it this morning, you didn’t even think to check to make sure you had placed it correctly, “How did I miss that?” You mutter.

“Also, you’ve been chewing on your lips nonstop since you’ve been here today,” he mentions, you clamping your lips in a firm line when you realize you have been giving them a good gnawing, a habit you only do when under extreme stress. “And,” his gaze flickers to the tip of his converse scraping against the pavement, “I always order a side of pancakes with chocolate syrup. But today I got French toast instead.”

Oh shit, you gasp, eyes widening in horror because the name of the person you do not want to speak of- his favorite is French toast which you accidentally wrote on Hoseok’s order without even realizing. “Oh my gosh, Hoseok,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in shame, “I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I did that,”

“My point,” he leans forward holding your eyes where worry for your wellbeing hasn’t diminished, “[Y/N]? Are you okay?”

Sadness drowns your mind prompting a brief sigh to brush over your dry lips. Hoseok watches you, and while you concentrate on how overwhelming everything has been, there are details about you he’s noticed that you wouldn’t even notice about yourself; Hoseok is known to be very observant, in some cases, it is a blessing more than a curse, especially when it comes to people he is interested in. With steady hands, you rest them on the picnic table, the cycle of notions running a thousand miles per minute.

When the slam of a car door interrupts the moment, you direct your attention to the sound. A male, with gray strands of hair complimenting a black headband, fumbles with his keys pressing a button that signifies the locking of his car. In one hand, he’s holding what looks like a bouquet of roses; his black sweatshirt brightening the deep shade of red in the sunlight. Your eyes blink to the entrance of the restaurant where you see M, with her palms to her face, jump with excitement as she runs to the man, throwing her arms around his neck. You can’t help the happy flutter in your heart as you watch the guy tighten his arms around her back burying his head into her purple hair, cherishing every second of her as the two sway from side to side.

Memories of…. The person you do not want to name comes to mind, reminding you of the days you realized you were falling in love with him where moments of doses involving the tip of your nose buried into the crook of his warm collar. You catch Hoseok looking back at the adorable couple still enveloped in each other’s embrace, then reverting to glimpse at you. Meeting his gape, but only for a second, you look down towards your frail hands, ignoring the sudden urge to cry, “No,” you murmur, “No, I’m not okay.”

M pulls away, her smile joyous, accepting the bundle of roses. The guy rests his hand on her cheek leaning in for a kiss. You wonder who he is, especially since M has never mentioned a boyfriend, at least not around you, but you inwardly voice that you haven’t been very talkative as of late either. Regardless, your heart melts for her as you watch the couple hand in hand walk into the restaurant.

“Hey,” Hoseok’s tone is endearing- the kind you hear before someone pats the back of your hand in a way to make things seem better. Your heart is so broken, the cheery frontage you have been faking is slowly unzipping, exposing a layer of you that you didn’t want anyone to see.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Hoseok,” you stand to your feet avoiding eye contact, using your palms to smooth out your uniform. “I should get back to work.” Power walking to the entrance of your job, you do not look back, even though you feel guilty for dodging someone who was doing nothing more than being polite. Prolonged stares of your coworkers are a given, especially with how close-knit everyone is, but you can’t let that distract you from your work, so until the end of your shift rolls around, you help take orders to get caught up. It’s all a blur when you find yourself in your car, tentatively focusing on the drive home to when you safely park.

The light is dimming outside and once you turn the key in the ignition, the engine silences, and you lean back in your seat, closing your eyes as you swallow the lump building in your throat. Just call him, those words have echoed various times since Jeongguk’s disappearance, yet you can’t seem to collect enough courage to dial his number. Excuses swarm in your mind; he’s probably busy, maybe he’s with his family, maybe he’s at work; and, you haven’t been able to put how much you wish you knew how he’s been doing to rest; honestly, not much of anything involving him has been put to rest, because how can any closure come from something so hurtful such as this? As much as you want to be angry right now, you can’t bring yourself to be, especially with how much you agonizingly miss him. When you open your eyes, you let out a long exhale through your nose trying to calm the nerves stemming beneath your chest.

You can’t take this anymore. You just need to do it. You need to call him. You need to hear his voice no matter how much it destroys you. No more dithering, you grab your phone, sifting through your contacts until you land on his name. In one quick second, you click it, the screen igniting to show it is dialing. Raising the phone to your ear, you swallow, your mouth uncomfortably dry; your fingertips ice cold while you anxiously wait, each dial pounding in unison with the headache that is now forming. C’mon Guk, C'mon, you interiorly plead, tears glistening in the corner of your eyes, squeezing them shut.

“Hello, this is Jeon Jeongguk, sorry I couldn’t take your call-”

“Damnit!” you wail, hanging up abruptly, tossing your phone into the passenger side. That is the first you’ve heard him speak rounding up to a month, and though no one is watching, your hands hover over your face where you choke out breathy sobs, wishing you never attempted to call. He must think you’re weak, you torture yourself with mindless insecurities, but still, where is he? Which then sparks the next question, do you really want to know? What feels to make matters worse is how you profusely wish he was just here. Right next to you where you used to think he belonged- holding your hand in his especially on nights where you needed his comfort most. None of this makes any sense, because where in the world did you go wrong? Why does this all make you feel like this is completely your fault? What if he ever says you hadn’t tried hard enough? What if-?

The vibration of your phone causes you to jolt, your heart thrumming in your temples as your eyes glued to the phone light reflecting in your car window. With careful hands, you reach for the device, turning it to see who is calling. A sigh of relief fills you when you see the initial M staring back at you. Snorting back as much mucus as you can, you wipe under your eyes one final time before answering.

“Hello,” you wince at the stuffy noise of your voice hoping M doesn’t notice.

“You are the nosiest, inquisitive, you-better-tell-me-now-before-I-cut-you, woman I have ever known, and yet you didn’t ask one- Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, M,” your laughter is hoarse, “I didn’t mean to ignore you today. But yes. Yes, I would like to know who this man of yours is,” you sniff, the tear stains feeling sticky on your reddened cheeks. “Now, tell me.”

“Not until you get your ass over here,”

“But-”

“I’ve got wine.” She teases; her persuasive, chirpy voice echoing on the line. “Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve had some girl time. So, I suggest you hurry over here before I down this entire bottle!”

“I’m on my way.” You change into some comfy clothes before you leave, arriving in record time, M greeting you at her door dawned in yoga pants and a black sweatshirt which you wonder is from the mystery man who visited her at work earlier today.

“Who’s is that?” you pester, descending onto a bar stool sitting in front of M’s marble counter, the cool material blanketing your arms where you choose to lay them. She shoots you a playful glance, her purple hair covering the fronts of her shoulders.

“Yoongi’s,” she coos, her eyes averting to timidly browsing at the open bottle of red wine.

“Ah, Yoongi? How cute.”

“Oh, shut up,” she pours the both of you a glass, the two of you making cheers before taking a few sips, letting the strong taste pool on your tongue before swallowing.

“Now,” you say, setting your glass down for a moment, “Confess.”

M shakes her head, rolling her eyes before she takes another sip, “We dated in middle school.” Raising your eyebrows in interest, you nod for her to continue. “He ended up moving away, so of course being 12 and broke, we had no choice but to break up.” Her fingers ghost her wine glass to play with the strings at the neckline of the sweatshirt while reminiscing upon her story, “Crazy enough, a few months ago, he got back in touch with me, and I learned that he’s attending University in our town. He’s rooming with his childhood best friend right now. It just amazes me that he remembered me after all this time.”

“You’re the first person he thought of,” you remark.

“Yeah,” she sighs dreamily, her light shade of brown eyes sparkles in the kitchen light, “he surprised me today because his professor canceled class. It’s funny how it works, you know? Love happens when you least expect it.”

And, so does heartbreak, you force a smile to yourself after a long gulp of the bitter liquid, your eyes staring at your hand now cupping the glass, clinking it carefully with your fingernails, you try to shun any thoughts of…. from your mind without any luck. “[Y/N]?” M’s voice is soft and you’re not sure how long you’ve been zoned out, but you smile at her apologetically. “I’ve been quite worried about you lately. You haven’t been your buoyant self, so what gives?”

“I’m sorry, just a little tired.”

There’s a mini pause, one where M gathers her words before choosing to continue, “You know you never answered me earlier.” She mentions, and you chew at your lips as a canopy of guilt floods your vision. You still haven’t told a soul about the breakup, and M is your closest friend and coworker, and you can’t help feeling ashamed for keeping this from her. “And noting the dried dot of mascara on your cheek, I know something’s up.” Your fingertips fly to your face. “Other side,” and you move your hand to rub harshly at the skin.

“Thank you,” you whisper, bringing your fingertips to your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut while a stab of pain enters your already tainted heart. “He left,” is all you can muster, flinching at the thought of his name. Realization commences M’s expression because her eyes widen, her mouth forming an “O” shape in the reaction to how much she did not expect your words.

“Oh [Y/N], I am so sorry. I had no idea-”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I haven’t told anyone… Not even my mom,” you confess- the rest of the wine in your glass calling your name as you try to prevent your heart from crashing again.

“Did he-?” M begins, her eyebrows furrowed in concern, and even though cheating is a potential possibility on the list of why people breakup, you grimace, not wanting to let the thought consume you.

“No. I don’t- I don’t know. He just left without any explanation.”

“What?” M murmurs in disbelief, “I never thought-”

“Me neither,” you down the rest of the wine from your glass not wanting to speak of the situation any longer; as an alternative, you gesture for M to pour you some more. She hesitates at first but dispenses the crimson beverage anyways.

“You know we have work tomorrow,” she reminds you though you engulf your second glass without delay since the buzz you’re gaining lightens the load weighing heavy on your soul.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you whine, clumsily reaching for the wine bottle, M grasping it away from you.

“No, ma’am. For someone who barely drinks, you sure are determined to steal it all.”

“It’s for a good cause,”

“Nah- ah!” M taps your hand away after your third attempt, “Your sanity is important. Now, go lay down. If there’s anything you really need, it’s a good night’s sleep.”

You groan, “Why do you have to be such a good friend,” you sag, M rounding the counter to put an arm underneath your shoulders.

“Because I am the bee’s knees.” She banters, helping you relax onto the couch. She leaves the room temporarily, bringing back a blanket to lay over your exhausted frame. “Goodnight, you drunk.” She teases when you sluggishly peer up at her.

“Goodnight, you killjoy.”

“Hey, you’ll thank me when you awaken without a splitting headache.”

“And, I’ll believe it when I arise from this couch at seven in the AM.”

She makes it to the entrance leading into the hallway to her bedroom while you cuddle into the blanket with immense appreciation; M pauses to look behind her shoulder at you, laughter echoing throughout the tiny living room. After a moment, gratitude overcomes you. “Thank you for tonight,” you beam, thankful to have a friend like her. M is the reason you make it through your shifts a hundred percent of the time; even on days like this when you feel so desolate, and you can’t even see the positivity right in front of you, M knows how to bring the best out of you, hence why the two of you have been stuck like glue since the day you met.

She holds your gaze, “Always… And [Y/N]?”

“Hm,” you grunt groggily, feeling the heavy flutters of your eyelids begging for slumber, but your ears perk enough, especially when M’s next words bring hushed tears to your tired eyes.

“You’ll get through this; I have no doubt. Whatever is going on, he made his choice. He’s running from this because he’s ashamed of something.”

Though the words echo in the night, they place themselves into your conscious until you drift into sleep- He’s running from this because he’s ashamed of something- and when dreams start to encompass your conscious, by some miracle you forget- you forget about the person who originally had been on your mind.

The following morning, you almost do not recognize where you are when your groggy eyelids open just enough to realize you are laterally pressed upon the couch of M’s; shadows of plants decorated throughout the living room clear into your peripherals once you shift your weight to lay onto your back. Uncertain of the time, you’re aware it’s way too early to prepare for work, but you also regret not packing a bag last night although you didn’t quite plan to drink as much as you did. For now, you stare at the ceiling, counting the imaginary stars you wish would align to a brighter path versus the sadness returning to plague your heart yet again.

He hadn’t appeared in your dreams this time, which alludes to the pondering question of why. Figuring it may have to do with not waking up in your bedroom, where he used to lay beside you, could potentially be the daunting reason, and you swallow the budding lump in your throat pleading with your memories to stay repressed as much as possible, but it’s no use. Jeongguk used to slip his strong arm around you every night, his solid chest pressed to your back before he’d touch a slow, warm kiss to your temple that sent tingles across your skin. And, it was always your safe place. The one part of your day that you always looked forward to, where his closeness brought you some form of peace that you needed. But… now that you think of it, he discontinued that routine maybe within the last six months before he fled, and the realization makes you want to beat yourself up for ignoring what could have been the biggest sign that something hadn’t been right.

This isn’t your fault.

Automatically, you squeeze your eyes shut before rubbing them roughly with your fingertips, begging to stop this nonsense of blaming yourself. You know this isn’t your fault, yet the pain doesn’t fade away enough to find some form of relief. It’s then, you rush to your feet, folding M’s blanket to nestle into the corner of the couch before slipping on your shoes and grabbing onto your keys and wallet before quietly treading out the door. There’s just enough time to throw in a quick shower before performing your daily morning list the second you reach your home- freshening up until you eventually find yourself in the driver’s seat, slowly turning the key until the roar of your car awakens.

You remember him like it was yesterday. Or every yesterday in between. Where he placed his large hand on your thigh as you kept your laughing eyes on the road. Every song that came on the radio, Jeongguk would sing to, holding his bunny smile while you cheered him on, letting his vibrato whisk you away into a giddy world where you hoped and prayed it would never end. But it did, you want to scream in pure frustration, because it seems no matter where or what you do, everything reminds you of him. And it’s not fucking fair. The lining of your jaw tenses when you notice the gritting of your teeth, and the stiff way your hands grip the steering wheel as you drive. It’s not like you can help it with the breakup still being so fresh, but you wish time would heal much faster than how it’s been in the last month.

Smoky smells of savory meat waft in the air while your shoes crunch along the gravel lot; few cars are parked meaning the morning crowd hasn’t officially arrived, so with quick precision, you clock in, bursting into the kitchen to greet the chefs who are in the process of chopping vegetables in fast motion against large cutting boards.

“I still don’t get how you two do that without cutting your fingers off,” you tease, eyes widening as they slice- shaking your head in disbelief.

Seokjin shrugs, “Practice makes perfect,” his plump lips form an eloquent smirk before gesturing his clear-gloved hand to reveal a few small scars etched on some of his fingers.

“When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, it becomes second nature,” Chef Von’s smile causes his eyes to crinkle at the corners, evident gray hairs shimmer in his trimmed sideburns as he glances down to retrieve more ingredients to cut.

“Well, before I am tempted to see if I can chop some onions at the speed of light, I’m going to take some orders,” turning on a heel to leave the kitchen, Seokjin and Von’s chuckles reverberate behind you, reminding you of how thankful you are for every one of your coworkers. They are your family, which is something you treasure- sending a quick hello to waitress LenLen and waiter Jimin, they rush past to gather whatever was asked of them by their tables. You’re so distracted, you almost miss the brush of M’s shoulder as she ambles past- her way of saying hi after she clocks in, and you smile to yourself as you watch your best friend sprint to take the first table in her section’s order.

It takes a second before you round the counter to make a fresh brew of coffee, refilling an elderly man’s mug, before your eyes raise to see the figure of Jung Hoseok entering the restaurant- the jingle of the doorbell foggy within your ears when a pang of guilt hits your chest at the memory of yesterday. Being you are a professional at your job, you welcome him as though you don’t feel any awkward tension you typically are overthinking, “How are you this morning?” You ask, pouring him a steaming cup of the liquid, carefully sliding it towards him without spilling droplets of the content.

“Dandy!” He chuckles, his thin fingers curling around the handle as he takes a seat.

“Hey, that’s a great answer!” You smile, scribbling the correct order before spinning to pin it where Seokjin can see it.

“Hello, Hoseok!” M bellows, rushing past with a pitcher of water, “Funny seeing you here!”

“Hello to you too, Monnie!”

“Oh my word,” you giggle at her scurried state, “She’s a trooper I tell you,” you admire how hard she works, especially with how many tables she’s willing to tackle at once, and she never once complains.

“How are you?” There’s a concern in his tone that matches his eyes when you give him a knowing look pooling with culpability from when you rudely dodged him. Quickly dropping your gaze, you nervously check your nametag, appreciating that you put it on properly today, then returning his stare with a gentle grin.

“I’m doing well, thank you,”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says genuinely, and though what you said is partly a lie, the other half of you doesn’t feel as anxious as the day before. Your grin falls a tad when you keep reliving the incident prior, and running your palms along your apron uncomfortably, you decide now must be the right time to apologize since there isn’t many customers currently.

“Hoseok, I um,” you stammer, “I’m so sorry. For yesterday. I shouldn’t have run off like that. It was very rude of me.”

“No need to apologize,” he waves briefly, the corners of his mouth smiling wider in assurance, “You’re fine I promise. I didn’t take any offense to it whatsoever.”

Holding his brown eyes, you are incredibly grateful for his kindness, “Thank you. Really, thank you. It was extremely sweet of you to check up on me.”

“Anytime,” you’ve always loved seeing his smile, which you almost envy, although it is comforting to see every morning especially when you need a pick-me-up. The man has visited the restaurant every single morning for over 730 days, and yet you don’t know a single thing about him other than he orders the same exact thing for breakfast, and that he almost always comes alone.

Swarms of customers bustle into the restaurant putting a kick in your step to seat them, hand out menus and take orders, refilling drinks as you go- the typical morning crowd distracts to where you set aside the thoughts of your personal life for the time being, and once everything settles, you rush to the counter where Hoseok’s order is ready. Cautiously carrying the platter to him, steam rises from the cakes, the smell making your mouth water as a small gurgle erupts from your belly. Unfortunately, you forgot to eat this morning from your rush getting to work, and it reminds you that you hardly have been eating as much since… you shake your head to rid of the person you’re trying to forget.

“Pick a number from one through ten,”

“Huh,”

Hoseok’s words awaken you from your mini zone-out, cutting into the pile of deliciousness- the chocolate drizzle melting further into the layers before his eyes return to his phone screen set out beside him. “Pick a number between one and ten,” he repeats, still gluing his gaze to his cellular device.

Chuckling, confusion is obvious in your demeanor, your hands moving to rest on your hips, “Uh,” you draw out, “Seven.”

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, scrolling through the screen until he pauses, mouthing whatever words he’s reading, “Ah, okay, what is your favorite color?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” You shrug nonchalantly in preparation of answering until you see one of your customer’s almost finished with their plate. “Hold that thought,” you held up an index finger, swiftly checking on your tables, collecting payments, and returning to check on Hoseok once the coast becomes clear. You feel awful when you see that his plate is nearly empty, continuously apologizing for how long it's taken you to get back to him, but he assures you it’s fine considering you’re at your job and that he’s the one who is sorry for distracting you.

“Now,” he leans forward with clasped hands, his plate set to the side along with his empty coffee mug, “What is your favorite color?”

“Purple,” you reply, shifting your weight whilst wiping your hands on a small towel you picked up on the way to check on him, “My favorite color is purple.”

“I think I knew that already,” he ponders for a moment.

“You do? How did you-?”

“You said a while back about that being the reason you knew Monnie was going to be your best friend.”

“Because she has purple hair,” you murmur, finishing his sentence, “I remember that.”

“And your pen is also-”

“Purple,” your fingertips brush against the pen hooked to the hem of your shirt in amazement of his memory being how long it has been since M started.

“Can I borrow it?” His question surprises you at first, but you shrug, pressing your lips together while nodding.

“Sure,” you set it before him, “Keep it, I have an extra.”

With a thumbs up, his eyes are back on his cellphone, “One more,”

“Question?”

“Mhm,”

“Alrighty, uhm.. Ten,”

“What is,” he starts slowly, his gaze in pure concentration, “What is your favorite flower?”

“Good question,” contemplating, you suck in your lips, because your flower of choice has always surprised people, especially since it’s not actually a flower at all. In fact, it is nothing, but a weed in many eyes. “Dandelion. One hundred percent, dandelions.”

“Wow,” Hoseok leans back slightly, “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Have you ever seen dandelion seeds?”

“I have,”

“Well, if I could say every wish I have made with those things, you’d think I’m insane.”

“Wishes,” he speaks softly as if to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. “You see them as wishes instead of weeds,”

“Always have,” there are moments when the sun shines through the windows but happens to brighten more in certain moments perhaps when clouds move out of the view.

“What’s the biggest wish you’ve ever made if you don’t mind me asking?”

The question catches you off guard, your lips parting with the intention of answering, but with your luck, the signal of the door’s bell is all that is needed to have to interrupt the interesting conversation. It feels good to be asked questions and throwing Hoseok an apologetic glance, you immediately greet the family of four to then lead them to a clean, empty table. Performing your job by checking on your other tables, you scoop up dishes to be taken to the kitchen sink, losing track of time before you can head back to see if Hoseok’s okay. To your dismay, the seat he had occupied is now vacant, and you watch as M quickly sets the coffee mug upon the plate, disappearing into the kitchen with them.

Disappointment clouds you, though you are stunned by that fact. Inching closer to the counter, something enters your vision that you hadn’t realized was there. A green bill sits with what looks to be a ripped sheet of paper with a logo printed on the edge, which you recognize to be from M’s notebook is laying on top. Your fingertips graze the paper, the corner of the bill revealing it to be twenty bucks, which causes you to gasp in surprise considering his breakfast, which you give him a discount due to his customer loyalty and overall politeness, is a whopping $3.20. Your eyes then drop to the note which you observe is written with purple ink:

‘Sorry, had to run.

Keep the change. And I really do hope that you’re okay.

Hoseok : - )’

For safekeeping, the note from Hoseok is folded neatly within your wallet where small treasures gifted from friends remain. Though not highly superstitious, you still consider these reminiscent trinkets as good luck charms, something to bring a smile on your face when you need it the most. Jingling keys are the only sound reverberating in the parking lot before the thumps of your shoes bounce up the stairs. The lights are off as always when you finally enter your home though the vacancy of the atmosphere doesn’t feel like a home plaguing the persistent dread of loneliness. You did, however, inform your mother about the breakup during your drive to the apartment, her muttering under her breath how she knew something was up, yet you dwindled whatever excuses you could to defend him. Though defending him at this point leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Shoving off your shoes, you hastily prepare for a shower, cleansing the sadness off your frame before drying your hair and throwing on some pajamas to then laying a fresh uniform out for work the following morning. Gazing around the room, you gather the pale white of the walls only decorated with sparse posters of favorite artists as well as replicas of items that have featured in shows that you and… Jeongguk enjoyed. Swallowing roughly, you flit your stare to the dresser drawer where pictures of your family and friends are held in small frames; though you and Jeongguk hardly ever took pictures together, photography or simply delighting in the scenery and family was something the two of you shared. Your fingertips nestle upon the mahogany surface where the smooth wood has a chill to the touch despite the small clouds of dust collecting at the tips of your nails. Wiping the lint onto your sweatpants, you grimace at how unclean you have been as far as maintaining your room, but once you’re home after a long day, it’s hard to get back into the routine of keeping the apartment spotless. Especially when the only thing you desire is to hide under the comforter as if to avoid being reminded of reality.

Intending to power clean on your next day off, you rake a tired hand through your hair, pausing to then wrap your arms around your waist for comfort. It is the jar at the corner of your bedside table that prompts a dreary mist to your eyes. Just a large mason jar filled with extra money in tips that you’ve been able to salvage despite bills, and the first-night discovering Jeongguk’s departure, you sifted through every item in the closet until you found it, where you had originally kept it hidden. IRELAND, printed in bold letters, proudly sticks to the center of the jar reminding you of the plan you had to surprise him, one day, with tickets to both of your dream destination for a romantic getaway. If there was one place the two of you dreamed more than life, it was to escape to Ireland for as long as you both could, to view the scenery hand in hand with triumphant smiles of ‘we made it’ planted across the both of your faces.

When the two of you met, you had just started college, soon discovering college wasn’t for you, but Jeongguk, bright-eyed with a thin-lipped smile, drew you in like no other. He kept you going until you finished out the school year- your family member offering you a job as a waitress, where you work now until you found something that interested you for a lifetime. Jeongguk is a pharmacist, but during his prerequisites, was how the two of you were first introduced; one thing led to another, and before you knew it, he was holding your hand in the hallways; sneaking kisses between classes; gifting you with fortune cookie quotes every time he ordered take out on late nights of essays and online quizzes; snuggling you on the weekends when the two of you were too exhausted to finish an entire movie; driving you at odd hours of the night to purchase your favorite snacks when mother nature came to knock on your door; random adventures to gaze at scenery whether it be the mountains or the beach; and endless conversations of each of your dreams discovering the two of you shared a deep love for a trip to Ireland.

But that dream ended all too soon. Died the moment he wrecked your heart. When tears threaten to spill onto your cheeks, you step to reach for the jar, deciding to hide it away once again. Out of sight, just like the memories, you wish would disappear from your mind. Once under the covers with the hope of feeling safe and sound, you can’t help but miss his presence- pressing the space of the mattress behind you, cuddling his warm face to the back of your neck. The pain seeping into your chest is nearly excruciating mingled with the pleading of not wanting to think about him, but there’s no use.

Jeongguk was your first everything. First kiss, first boyfriend, first roommate, first time, first love. He was the first man to have such a hold over your heart, and you never imagined that he would just let it go- just like that.

Let you go- just like that.

It was two years later when the two of you were both financially stable enough, that you found this apartment and moved in together. And, nearly one year later after that, only weeks leading to the renewal of the lease, here you are, in a chilly bedroom, all alone, with no answers to the million questions as to why.

Why.

Sniffling back the little tears that managed to escape onto the bedsheets, you long for this turmoil to end, restlessly turning onto your back where your eyes squeeze shut.

If there’s anything you wish for, even on countless dandelion seeds,

it’s to be happy again.

The last gulp of your protein shake hits the spot, trekking from your car to the entrance of the restaurant, you mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead – the same repetitive routine: greeting your fellow coworkers with kind smiles along with checking up on their well-being as a good manager and a person does, scamper to check on occupied tables, and take orders of arriving customers once they’ve been seated. Time zips past and while rounding the main counter to check on refills and starting another pot of coffee, you notice Hoseok sipping from his mug, prompting a double-take because a prolonged realization reveals you hadn’t quite recognized him right away without his hat on. Curly tendrils frizzle along his forehead and you take in his innocent eyes sweeping the wall above the kitchen opening where picture frames are present. Approaching him, you observe a black watch adorning his left wrist where he still holds the mug to his lips, and next to him rests a brown paper bag which you assume holds a snack of some sort.

“Hey, Stranger,” you grin at him, and you notice dimples embellish his face from where he returns the smile, settling his beverage before him. “Don’t you get tired of seeing the same little ole’ faces every single day?”

“Not at all,” he chuckles, “It’s practically my job!” Running his fingers along his jaw, then returning to fold his hands in front of him to lean on his elbows. As much as you hate to admit it, no matter how internally it is, you feel guilty at the budding attraction you have welling beneath your sternum that a light shade of pink etches your cheeks. Hoseok has always been a handsome man, but you never seemed to notice until you really started to merely look at him.

The question comes out a little quicker than expected, “Pancakes with chocolate syrup?”

“Pancakes with chocolate syrup,” he nods once in confirmation.

“Coming right up,” you wink, turning to enter the kitchen, bellowing, “Hoseok’s usual!”

“On it like a faucet!” Seokjin’s voice echoes back to you. Turning on a heel, you continue your grand customer service, tending to as many tables, as you can until Hoseok’s order, is up.

“Alright, new number,” he suddenly says as you set his plate of steaming pancakes onto the counter, “Between one and ten, but not seven nor ten.”

Chuckling, you eye him suspiciously at the randomness of it all, yet you’ve always found it delightful to answer questions- it’s fun to search through your own mind and list your interests and hobbies; it’s quite a nice distraction from the bustling of the restaurant, though the crowd has dimmed down enough to have a few minutes with Hoseok. “Uh, five?”

“Okay! What is your favorite food?”

“Ooo,” you coo, placing your palm on your chin while you lean forward upon the counter. It’s not the norm for you to do that, but with fewer people around to be able to stare, the more comfortable you feel to slack just a tad bit. “Beef bulgogi,”

“Next,”

“Next?”

“Next number,”

“Oh!” Shaking your head once you understand, you concentrate to remember which numbers you haven’t said yet, “Two?”

“Favorite animal?”

“Okapi. Eight,”

“Favorite season?”

“Spring. Four,” Sprinting to check on the remaining folks finishing up their plates, you refill drinks and dispose of empty dishes before rushing back to see what question four will be. You find the anticipation to be silly, but a good silly because for once you feel an excitement you’ve been needing for a while.

“Favorite game?”

“Uno. One,” there is only a few more questions to juggle while you rush back and forth between tables and something dawns on you.

“Favorite music genre?”

“Pop- hey, wait a minute,” Hoseok’s eyes widen as if startled while he puckers his lips, seeing the way your hands rest on your hips where you tap your fingers against your apron, a teasing glare pins him in place. “This game is rigged.”

“Oh?”

“How come I’m the only one answering all the questions?”

There’s always the annoying cues that tend to interrupt when you reach an interesting point in your job, and when you straighten your posture, you notice what looks to be a party of ten entering the building. Vague familiarity brushes over a few faces, potentially previous consumers, all wearing business attire, but when your gaze lands on one of the men, a jolt of pure terror begins to ram harshly against your rib cage. Hoseok notices the way your frame became rigid and with furrowed eyebrows, he turns enough to look behind him not hearing your footsteps shoot forward to seat the group. Clicking your purple pen, you shakingly jot down their drink orders after welcoming them, trying with all your might to swallow down the overwhelming sense of nausea.

“Well, how are you, dear?” Mr. Jeon, Jeongguk’s father, though with a kind smile, greets you. Clear glasses are poised on the bridge of his nose, and despite his bout of disapproval upon you being a waitress, there seems to be not one smidge of tension amongst him which you are taken aback by, and you force to hide your bewilderment with a polite expression.

“I’m doing very well, Mr. Jeon. How are you?” A blush heats over your chest from the stares looming at you from the rest of the table, and all you can wonder is what made Jeongguk’s father come to this particular restaurant? And, why today of all days? Why ever? You understandably can see it being a coworker who loves this restaurant offering this to be where they eat today but didn’t Mr. Jeon know that you worked here at this specific location or did he simply forget?

“I’m doing well,” he nods as if contemplating his answer, “How has the job been treating you?”

“Good, as always,” you nod, wishing nothing more than to melt into the floor. “I’ll be right back with your drinks,” swiftly bowing, Mr. Jeon awkwardly clears his throat.

“Of course, of course. I’ll let you get back to work,”

It doesn’t take long to get all the beverages ready, and once you take their food order, you clip it up for Seokjin and Von, ducking into the restroom where you can fill your lungs with a much needed deep breath. Fighting the urge to hyperventilate, your hands curl on either side of the sink, gripping so tight your knuckles whiten. Holy shit. The coppery taste of blood heightens your senses and you realize you have been gnawing on your lips much harder than usual. You can’t even raise your head enough to look in the mirror without the risk of vomiting, so instead, bending close enough, you turn on the spigot, to feel tiny flecks of water nicker your nose, rinsing your mouth with lukewarm water.

Persuading whatever you can to calm down, you try convincing yourself how you have met the man before, how he was practically your father-in-law at one point, yet the intense feeling of your heart pounding was still present. You are so shaken up my Mr. Jeon’s presence, you pace back and forth once you part from the sink, pleading with your stomach to not release the breakfast you had earlier. Thoughts of Hoseok seem to mingle, hoping M has been able to tend to him to make sure he doesn’t need anything else, and you find yourself amazed by just the mere thought of his smile bringing you at ease even if for a moment. He always seems so happy, and in a way, you envy him for it, although you know realistically speaking, no one in the universe has a perfect life no matter how you slice it, but at least some can find their happiness again which you long for desperately.

Scolding yourself, you are not sure how long you remain hidden within the bathroom, and when your belly decides to simmer down, you press your eyes close and whisper some form of encouragement before returning to the bustling floor of the restaurant. Realizing in slight chagrin, you notice Mr. Jeon and his company have been digging into their plates, and you thank your lucky stars for M because you know she is the culprit for making sure your job is still being maintained.

“Ah, there she is!” Mr. Jeon proclaims, swiping his napkin briefly over his mouth.

“I apologize for my absence, I can grab pitchers for some refills-” you start, observing some of the glasses being halfway consumed, but Mr. Jeon waves a hand to stop you.

“No need. Ms. Monica informed us that the delivery truck had arrived. I didn’t know you were the assistant manager now. I can’t believe my son hasn’t told me!”

M saves the day yet again, and before you can breathe a sigh of relief, your breath hitches instead, “Hasn’t?” What does Mr. Jeon mean by the present tense? Maybe Jeongguk… never felt the need of informing his parents since they originally disproved of your waitressing to begin with. Trying to prevent the urge to scrunch your eyebrows, you try to keep a nonchalant demeanor as you continue speaking after realizing Mr. Jeon hadn’t reiterated, “Why, yes! Yes, I am now the assistant manager. I was promoted around the same time your son was.” Flinching, you still have a hard time saying his name aloud, and you hope to the heavens that Mr. Jeon didn’t notice as you fondle with the hem of your apron, your fingertips evidently numb.

Elbowing one of his coworkers he chuckles, “She’s got him wrapped around her finger. It’s been that way for years. I can’t even get the couple to visit us anymore,”

“Mr. Jeon,” you try to say at the daunting discovery you have unraveled, but your words die on your tongue.

“Say, how is Jeonnguk doing?” Lightheaded, you hardly hear the question, much less the feel of a tender hand being placed upon your shoulder.

“He’s good!” M’s voice snaps you back to reality as you dizzily reach over to refill a drink from the pitcher M had set on the table.

“Yeah,” you reply in clear discomfort, “He’s doing wonderfully I suppose.”

When the men are finished with their meals, you and M collect the dishes and silverware before bringing their checks to collect payments; Mr. Jeon nods his goodbye when the group gathers to exit the restaurant. Appearing into the kitchen, the chefs are too busy cooking to notice, and M follows suit, “[Y/N], if you need a minute-” M’s voice is thick with worry especially when she notices your eyes pooling with unshed tears.

“He doesn’t know,” your voice cracks, “Mr. Jeon doesn’t know that we broke up,”

M’s expression is incredulous after the confusion dissipates from her eyes, but she squeezes your hand to provide whatever strength she can give. Jeongguk’s father is unaware of the breakup, and here you are made a fool because of it, or that is how you see it.

“Maybe something bad has happened to him?”

“No,” you sigh, not wanting to relive the memory, “he left a note that said ‘I’m sorry,’ written on it. That’s how I know that he did this willingly,”

Silence drifts between you and your best friend for a few minutes before she pulls you into a crushing hug. Relief to have such a wonderful support system, you return the hug only letting a few more tears fall to retain your composure.

“I’m telling you he’s running because he’s ashamed of something, hence why he never said anything to his family,” M reminds you of the advice she gave what feels like a lifetime ago, “He will realize what he lost in due time, but for now, just focus on you. Maybe there are some things individually he needs to work on himself... Though that doesn’t change the fact that he should have communicated, but see this as an opportunity to find yourself, too.”

“You’re right,” you pull away, inhaling a slow breath before letting it out, “Maybe I just need to switch up my point of view,” even though you long for closure that may never come, but at least you can try to recover without knowing the full story. Maybe it is possible. “Thank you,” you whisper swiping under your eyes one more time, until you remember a certain, handsome customer you were originally serving. You gasp with enlarged eyes, “Hoseok!” Completely forgetting to check on him, you want to kick yourself for losing focus on your job despite the circumstances, and when you sprint out of the kitchen, your shoulders fall when seeing that his seat is no longer holding him. The empty mug rests on top of the plate that has leftover chocolate drizzle dolloped sporadically from where the pancakes were devoured; stepping to collect the dishes, something else encapsulates your sight.

Laying on the countertop sits what shows to be another twenty-dollar bill which once again stuns you from how cheap Hoseok’s breakfast is, but what rests beside the tip is what moves you to tears as a tiny gasp muffles into your palm. A circle of four yellow dandelions emerge in your line of vision, the fragrance of them greeting your nose. Once you’re close enough to fully absorb what you’re seeing- there laying in the center, encompassed by the golden petals,

is a white sphere of dandelion seeds still supported by its faded, green stem.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed when the following morning Hoseok never arrived for his routine breakfast, especially since you have the day off tomorrow. With your heart anticipating to thank him for the gift he left for you, you try to busy your mind with your job, so that the overwhelming thoughts of the regular didn’t occupy every crevice of your brain. But of course, it doesn’t one hundred percent work because the constant questions spin through, what if he went out of town? How long will he be gone? What if something bad happened? Maybe he had to work extra early even though you haven’t the slightest idea where he works. What if he is visiting a friend? Family? …Girlfriend?

Shaking your head from the foolish inquiries, you wrestle with the anxiety until lunchbreak, grabbing your packed sandwich from the fridge and sauntering to the picnic bench outside. Once again, not any customers were occupying them, and with the sun being high in the cloudless sky, you are thankful for the weather providing a cooling breeze. Halfway into your sandwich, your attention is so consumed by the article you are reading on your phone, the sudden slap of an item hitting the wood of the table causes you to jump before you realize what it is.

Uno. An Uno box is staring back at your wide eyes as you swallow whatever food you hardly chewed. Trailing to see who brought the card game, your heart flutters when you meet the smiling eyes of Jung Hoseok.

“My goodness you scared me!” You release a string of giggles in response to the adrenaline dimming and partially because you are happy to see him, a lot more than you expected.

“I’m sorry about that, it was kind of my intention, but not really,” he teases, descending across from you, his cap sitting perfectly upon his head to where his curls still decorate his forehead. You want to bring up the dandelion seeds and mention how much they mean to you even though you are not sure where to begin. Even combing through your memory, you can’t think of a time someone left you something so thoughtful.

“I’ll get you back,” you grin playfully, reaching for the box of cards with vengeance in tow, “I am quite the extraordinaire at Uno,”

“Ah, your confidence is astounding,” his smile widens, “But, I think you have met your match.”

“Bring it on,”

A few games pass with competitiveness you never knew you had, and it draws mild attention from customers about to enter the restaurant, but you could care less. When deciding on the final game, you discard.

“You forgot something,” Hoseok’s mischievous smirk sparking a dimple, flitting your gaze back to him, your mouth forms an ‘Oh’ in confusion,

“Uno.”

“Oh shit!” You slap a palm to your forehead, listening to your component cackle as he hands you four cards from the pile. The game prior, you each had one card left, and when you for sure thought you had him cornered, he placed a draw four WILD card onto the pile. “I give up,” you lean back with a deflated ego, and a lopsided grin, “You win. Again.”

“I’ll go easy on you next time,” he winks, a small flutter awakens within your chest, but you attempt to disperse the gnawing feelings that you can’t explain. Reaching for the cards- to stack neatly to return to its box- Hoseok’s fingers brush yours with the same intention. Awkwardly, you pull away, letting him pile the cards where they belonged, the feel of his fingertips still lingering on yours, a subtle blush creeps onto your cheeks. To distract yourself, you check your phone for the time, your heart falling in disappointment when you only have seven minutes left. Though you will not admit it to yourself, you aren’t disappointed in the fact you have to return to work, you are disappointed that your time with Hoseok has to end for the day.

“Thank you by the way,” you murmur softly, yet loud enough for him to hear. Hoseok looks up at you after stuffing the cards in the box as if confused on what you mean. “Honestly, thank you for everything. The questions, bringing the card game… And the dandelion seeds.” You smile timidly, “I don’t think you realize how much it’s helped distract me.”

Nodding, he doesn’t break eye contact, his smile so kind you can hardly ignore the flickers within you increasing, “Anytime. I can tell you’ve seemed down lately, and I know what that’s like, so I figured, why not find ways to help.”

The way your heart moves at his words, you are so touched that phrases dissipate from your tongue and in replacement, Hoseok is met with a look of awe dawning your expression. How can someone be so incredibly kind? You have known him for two years yet he has done more for you in such a short span of time that you realize you have gradually been gaining your smile back, especially when around him. When the two of you stand, you round the table in the direction of the restaurant and your shoulder happens to brush his arm.

“For you, Ma’am,” Hoseok stops, turning to face you fully to perform a courteous bow as he gestures the card game toward you.

“Oh, Hoseok, no you don’t have to do that!” Out of shock, your hands cup his that are still holding what happens to be another gift for you, the warmth of his skin prompting the reddened hues of your cheeks.

“I insist,”

“Hoseok, you really don’t have to,” but you lose the battle for as you head back into the restaurant, a giddy smile remains on your face as you tuck the box of cards safely into your purse.

Even as time passes into a few weeks, you find a day off leads into sleeping in until eleven in the morning which also results in you cleaning the entire apartment until it is spotless. Despite the ongoing guilt exhausting you inwardly, you store nearly everything of Jeongguk’s in a spare closet where it will stay away from your line of vision until you have the guts to rid of everything that you know he will never come back for. Lemony scents envelop each room, and you carry the final, hefty trash bag to the dumpster exasperated from the constant moving. Although, accomplishment is a wonderful feeling especially when you nibble on some lunch, soon turning to fall back onto your made bed. Closing your eyes for a split second, a sigh of relief brushes your grinning lips, your arms sprawled out on either side of you; when your phone vibrates on your dresser, the loud noise against the wood scares you at first as you jump suddenly with enlarged eyes, sporadically reaching for your cellphone where the familiar initial of your best friend appears.

“What did you do,” you tease.

M scoffs, “Bold of you to assume that I’m the culprit! Alas, I am sitting here alone on my lunch break, and thought I’d call to check up on you. Everything okay?”

“My apartment smells like lemons,” you reply with a wide smile.

“Oh! It was that bad?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, remembering that you need to put the vacuum you used earlier back into the laundry closet.

“No wonder why you haven’t invited me over. Now, I’m not as offended,” M jokes, munching on what you assume is a chip.

“You can come over tonight if you’d like,”

M sighs, “I would, but Yoongi is wanting to introduce me to his BFFLs’ that he’s made thus far.”

“From college I presume?” You wonder, imagining all the insults M is probably practicing just in case if she needs them.

“Yes, I think they’re majoring in the same thing, but I don’t remember.” M munches on another chip, “If they’re cute, do you want me to hit you up? You know, get them to slide in them DMs.”

“Do you even know their names?”

“Of course, I do!” M gasps, “Taejoon and Namyung.”

When the two of you manage to calm your laughter, M then shares some words of encouragement, the two of you finishing the call once the end of her lunch break nears. Roaming around the apartment, you take in the clean atmosphere, breathing in the lemon scent, and letting the sunlight shine through the windows along the furniture, bringing a subtle warmth to the air. Peace. Returning to your room, you hook your phone to the charger, your eyes pan over the dresser until they land on the dandelions you were given a few weeks ago. A small smile forms on your lips. The petals have completely dried although the scent persists; the sphere that holds numerous wishes disguised as seeds remains resting above them though the stem is shriveled.

Hoseok has asked you several questions, learning new things about you every day. Even when you try to learn at least one thing about him, something always interrupts, or he avoids answering and distracts you with another question that piques your interest. Ever since he witnessed your breakdown with the plates, it’s like he hasn’t let a day go by where he’s not finding a new way to make you smile. To make sure you’re okay. Your eyes still trained on the dandelion pile; a sudden urge awakens within you. Reaching for the withered stem, you rush out of the apartment, trampling down the steps until your bare feet find the large area of grass behind the complex. With the sun still beaming, the heat encompassing your skin, you bring the cloud of seeds to your lips, closing your eyes before making the wish that is dying to be whisked away in the breeze.

You make your wish- gently blowing at the loosening seeds- one by one they are captured by the wind, and with hopeful eyes and a promising smile, you watch until the seeds disappear into the unknown.

For the first time in a long time,

you are actually excited for the days ahead.

Hoseok fidgets with the gold watch as he tries to attach it onto his left wrist. It’s been years since he’s seen the watch, but his sister came to town from college weeks ago, surprising him with it. Taking a brief look in the mirror, Hoseok then heads to his car, his gurgling stomach waiting for the pancakes- a routine he has done for so long he’s forgotten how many years it's really been. Once arriving, his eyes trail the restaurant for you, his pending gift he has waiting at home isn’t finished quite yet, so when he discovers that you happen to be off today, he settles in the same stool, M bellowing his order to the cooks in the back.

M retrieves Hoseok’s coffee, him taking a sip, letting the heat of the liquid warm his figure; he gazes at the pictures on the wall. One frame, particularly, he searches for and once his eyes land upon it, it brings a sense of reminiscence from his childhood. In the picture, it has Hoseok as a young boy, his smile is so wide that his eyes disappear, his cheeks rosy, and his hair was much darker; a strong arm is over his shoulders revealing his grandpa with an equally large smile. In front of them, sits two plates with heaping layers of pancakes- chocolate syrup drizzling along the cakes with whipped cream swirled on top. Off to the side sits a coffee mug, something his grandpa couldn’t live without. A cup of coffee every single morning to start off his day. Adorning his grandpa’s left wrist is the golden watch, the one Hoseok finally found the strength to wear this morning. Hoseok’s grandpa brought him to this restaurant for breakfast every single time he came to visit him; some of the fondest memories Hoseok will hold in his heart forever.

Hoseok’s grandfather meant everything to him; always telling him stories, encouraging Hoseok to be the best man that he can be, sharing words of wisdom, and cheering him on with every obstacle thrown into his path. The day that his grandfather was diagnosed with cancer was the day that changed Hoseok’s life. Hoseok was applying to colleges during the time; his dream of becoming a dance teacher one day nearly dissipated until his grandfather refused to let Hoseok give everything up for the sake of his life. Though stubborn, Hoseok continued seeking out colleges while the looming process of watching his grandpa, who was once full of life, slowly withering away before his eyes.

Hoseok’s heart nearly tore into millions of shattered pieces, but there was never a night that he didn’t visit his grandpa in the hospital, sharing memories until his grandpa would drift to sleep. The night his grandfather passed, he gripped Hoseok’s hand with tears brimming his eyes.

“I am so proud of you, son,” his chin quivered, Hoseok’s face falling into a pained expression as every suppressed emotion nearly drowned him. Hoseok held onto him- sobs escaping him until his grandfather’s last breath. The family remained in the room behind him, knowing how much of an impact Hoseok’s grandfather had left on him.

It took a few years before Hoseok ever stepped foot into this restaurant again. Refused to even drive by it when visiting his parents- taking back roads to avoid any pain he tried healing from. When he first moved back into this town, after attending college nearly seven hours away, he finally found a form of strength to visit the restaurant that held the most memories. There was just one thing that he never expected.

Walking into the restaurant fresh out of college, Hoseok remembers hands in the pockets of his jacket, the smell of breakfast foods enveloping his nostrils, as the joyous conversations of people flooded his ears. When his eyes found the picture of his grandpa, he swallowed the lump in his throat, almost turning to leave, when:

“Welcome!” His eyes landed on a pair of glimmering eyes, vanishing all ounce of pain that was building within his chest. “You can sit anywhere you’d like!”

His lips parted at first, but one thing he knew, was he couldn’t take his eyes off the smiling waitress as he forced himself to walk- finding a stool at the counter.

“What can I get you today?” She beamed, pulling out a pad of paper, clicking the end of a purple pen in preparation to take his order.

“Uh,” Hoseok lost his train of thought for a moment, but the waitress waited patiently, as he scrambled to decide. Quickly, he glanced up at the picture of him and his grandpa, returning his eyes to the waitress, “I’ll have some coffee, and pancakes with chocolate syrup, please,” he smiled.

“Perfect. Coming right up!”

Hoseok watched as the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, her ponytail bouncing behind her- completely entranced by her beauty glowing from within. Even when she served him the pancakes, he thanked her, her smile never left the whole entire time he was there. As he occasionally glanced in her direction, her smile never left even for the customers occupying the rest of the spaces in the restaurant. In a way, he envied her smile, wishing he could give some light to the people surrounding him.

He came every day after that. Ordering the pancakes and coffee to start his day off before going to teach his dance classes at a high school not far down the road. One day, whenever the waitress came to check on him, he was halfway finished with his plate, “So, how is work for you today?” The question left his mouth before he could even stop himself. “Anything new?” The waitress leaned onto the counter,

“Good so far! We have a trainee coming in today for a working interview,” she said with excitement. “We’ve been needing more help around here as you know. But that’s not even the best part.”

“Oh?” Hoseok’s hands folded in front of his chin, interest in his expression.

The waitress looks ahead, her smile remaining planted on her face, “She has purple hair. I’m telling you right now her and I are going to be the best of friends.”

Hoseok couldn’t help, but chuckle at her statement, “Is that-?”

“My favorite color? Most definitely.” She glowed, soon scurrying off to check on the rest of her section.

The memory fades as M settles Hoseok’s order in front of him. “Thank you,” he says, digging into the layers. If there is one thing that Hoseok hadn’t expected when he returned to this restaurant for the first time in years,

It was that he would ever meet a ray of sunshine like you.

As two weeks pass, Monday decides to take its turn- you roll out of bed, readying for the day, getting to work early to prepare for the food truck’s arrival. Chef Seokjin typically comes to help- carrying the heavier boxes you may not be able to handle all by yourself. Once everything is stocked, the remaining workers begin to file in, clocking in for their shifts and double checking the floor to make sure everything is crystal clean.

“How are you, [Y/N]?” Jimin asks, his sweet smile reaching his eyes as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I’m doing well, Chimmy Chim. How are you this fine morning?” You hug him tight, his thin waist nearly swallowed by your embrace. Jimin is like the younger brother you’ve never had since you are an only child, he seemed to fill in that space for you whenever he first started working here. Every now and then, he comes to ask for advice on how to win LenLen’s heart, one of the fellow waitresses who also greets you with a hug every Monday morning when she arrives for her shift.

“I’m doing well. Guess what? Your advice worked.” He shimmers, his fluffy, blonde hair curled along his forehead.

“Did you plan everything out?”

“Yes, I did,” he promises. “Even down to the dessert. I’ll update you on everything after the date.”

“Okay, good. Because she’s standing right behind you,” Jimin’s eyes expand into saucers as he jumps to look behind him.

“You’re rude,” he chortles, playfully nudging you to realize LenLen hasn’t arrived just yet.

“I know, but I’m the best manager in the world. You can tell my relative I said so,” you wink. As soon as opening hour comes around, hordes of elderly couples and middle-aged people flood the booths and tables, sending every worker into a whirlwind of action. Whenever it slows down a bit, M meets you behind the counter, “So, I may have lied about something,” M begins, sucking her lips in as you turn to face her.

“Oh my, where do I need to meet you to dispose of the body,”

M rolls her eyes, “Oh, shut up, I haven’t killed him.”

“Yet,” you emphasize, leaning onto the counter.

“Okay, well I almost did, but that’s not the point. You see, what happened was- Remember Yoongi’s BFFLs’ I told you about?”

“Vaguely. What about them?”

“Well, those dipwads thought it was a good idea to not correct me on their names. And Yoongi was in on it.”

“No, they didn’t,” you chuckle, your friend’s embarrassment resonating in her features. “When did they decide to break it to you?”

“Last night, when they laughed so hard, they nearly urinated.”

“Remind me of their names again?”

M ponders for a moment, “Taejo- Sorry, Taehyung and Namjoon.”

“That’s not too far off though. Is it?”

“According to them, it is,” M shrugs, “But it’s okay I’ve renamed them to something much better.” M takes a hairbow and pulls her hair into a ponytail, your ‘humor me’ look waiting as she meets your gaze.

“What are their new names?” You blurt when the anticipation starts to overwhelm you.

“Tool and Nutbread,” M says nonchalantly, looking up to see three guys waltz in, “Speak of the damn devil.”

When you turn to look, you recognize Yoongi immediately, his silver hair curly as his eyes scan around the room until they lock with M’s, a gummy smile spreads across his face. Beside him stands two, very tall fellows, one wearing a black beret, flecks of green hair poking out near his ears; the other male, a slight bit taller, his dark hair parted on top of his head. You follow M until you reach the group, Yoongi offering his hand to shake yours first.

“Yoongi, this is my best friend, [Y/N].” M introduces, Yoongi bowing slightly.

“I’ve heard a lot of good things. Nice to meet you,”

“Same to you,” you say now turning to face the other two gentlemen.

“[Y/N],” M now gestures to the one with the beret. “This right here is Tool. And, this big shot right here is, Nutbread.”

You try to stifle the cackles wanting to erupt from your throat, but you hold a wide smile as you shake each of their hands, chagrin manifesting in their expressions.

“M is never going to let us live this down, is she?” Nutbread, who you assume is Namjoon, says, his face scrunching in a cutesy smile revealing dimples on his cheeks.

“Not at all,” you admit, as you and M seat them.

“It’s okay, we’ll get her back. I happen to be a prankster on the side.” Tool, who you assume is Taehyung, says pointing a finger at M with a boxy smile.

“If that were the case, then how’d you end up with super glue in your shampoo,” M shoots back. Taehyung awkwardly runs a large hand over his hat.

“That hat’s not coming off. Is it,” you muse.

“Maybe,” he pouts.

“That’s what happens when you mess with Monnie,” Namjoon banters.

“You’re next, Nutbread.” M utters, Namjoon’s eyes widening simultaneously to the whole table erupting in boisterous laughter. Monnie… you realize, there’s only one other person who calls M, Monnie. When the ding of the doorbell sounds as it does nonstop throughout the day, you turn to see Hoseok, your breath hitching. Normally, he heads straight for his typical spot at the counter, but this time he takes a seat at a booth, his countenance grim as his eyes examine the wall holding several picture frames. You have always noticed his sweep of the walls, but you never can figure what it is he is looking for. Before you greet him, you prepare a coffee, walking to his table to set it in front of him.

“Different view today?” You ask, his brown eyes meeting yours. You take in his facial features, the shape of his eyes, how smooth his skin appears, the pink of his lips, as well as the perfect line of his jaw. He’s so handsome you nearly want to faint. Hoseok smiles at you, his loose, brown shirt complimenting a ripped pair of black jeans, and you notice on his left wrist, he’s wearing a different watch this time. “Oh wow, I really like your watch.” You compliment, the golden hues of it glistening in the sunlight protruding through the window.

“Thank you,” his smile widens even more as if it’s possible, “It was a gift.”

“Well, it’s very nice. I’ll be right back with your pancakes,” you say, waltzing into the kitchen to alert the chefs of Hoseok’s arrival. Checking on other tables, you head back to the kitchen to retrieve Hoseok’s order. Once returned to the floor, there is a hesitant halt in your step for you notice a young woman sitting across from Hoseok at his booth. Something about her is familiar. If you remember correctly, she has been here a few times before- she never orders anything when she does come, and she’s always extremely polite to every employee who happens to wait their table, but who is she? Jealousy is a funny thing, yet you suppress the subtle feeling down, trying to talk yourself into how silly you are for even worrying.

“Hello!” You greet, setting Hoseok’s pancakes onto the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?” You offer.

“Oh, no thank you! I don’t need anything,” she smiles up at you, noticing the way her tight-lipped grin and her brown eyes appear conversant to you.

“[Y/N], this is my sister, Ji Wo.” Hoseok introduces, his hand gesturing toward her, and all you can do is stifle the tremendous sigh of relief at receiving this news. Yet, you are still confused as to why you were even worried to begin with. Is it possible that… You may have feelings on the man seated before you? Is that even a prospect?

“Oh wow, I see the resemblance! It’s so nice to meet you!” You smile, her saying the same, you turning to leave the two alone since you’re uncertain how often the two get to see each other. Rounding the counter to refill some drinks, M comes up to you.

“How’s Hoseok’s sister doing?” M asks, glancing over at the booth. You look at M with furrowed eyebrows.

“How’d you know that’s his sister?”

M tilts her head, “How did you not know that’s his sister? She only comes once in a blue moon. I’ve asked Yoongi about her, but he doesn’t know much. Hoseok’s not much of a talker like he used to be.”

“Wait,” you wave a hand in the air as if to pause time, “Yoongi and Hoseok know each other?”

M stares at you blankly, “What do you mean Yoongi and Hoseok know each other? They’re roommates you, dork!”

“Oh,” you gasp when you remember M telling you about Yoongi moving in with a roommate who M also mentioned was his childhood best friend; back when she made you visit her on the night you attempted to call him for the first time after the breakup. “I didn’t know his childhood best friend was Hoseok. And, no wonder why.. I noticed Namjoon called you Monnie, which is what I’ve heard Hoseok call you before.”

“Oh yeah, Yoongi calls me Monnie, so that’s my name at my house. But anyways,” M gains her train of thought, “after Yoongi moved away they lost touch, the most they communicated was over video game headsets.”

Snickering, you shake your head, even though you feel like there’s more about Hoseok than what he’s letting on. Gazing at him, his smile still on his face as he conversates with his sister, a strange longing tugs at your heart, and it happens to be so obvious your best friend can’t help but flash a hopeful yet knowing smirk.

“You know he’s single, right?” M’s voice disperses your trance, and you whip your head around to stare at her. M raises her hands immediately in defense, “I’m just saying.” She then heads back to the floor to check on her tables, you do the same. The hour whisking by in the blink of an eye, you find yourself cleaning tables, looking over your shoulder to see the empty booth Hoseok and his sister had originally occupied. Diverting your attention, you take empty dishes to the kitchen sink trying to ignore the ache of wanting to be around Hoseok which you’ve been gradually growing used to. When you head to the main counter, you bend down to wipe at the cubbies, ridding of dust that has collected along items related to pens, paper, boxes of straws, and other pocket items waiters and waitresses can swiftly grab when able to.

The clink of something pangs the counter causing you to stand upright. To your surprise, Hoseok plants himself into the stool, his smile showing his dimples as curly strands of hair fall into his eyes.

“Welcome back,” you say, closing your mouth that happened to be ajar, “You want more pancakes? Already?” You tease, the nervous tension easing from your shoulders. Your eyes then land to what caused the clinking sound seconds ago, a mason jar holding thick, yet neatly cut folded pieces of paper are piled within it. “What’s this?” You point, your eyes meeting Hoseok’s.

“It’s a jar full of questions,” he replies, sliding the mason jar toward you. A purple string is beneath the lid and you catch a strand between your fingertips. You’re speechless. Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever imagined being gifted something so sweet. Even with… “You can draw a question or more a day if you’d like.”

“And what do I get in return?” you press, “I believe I deserve answers about what your favorite things are, correct?”

Hoseok looks at his folded hands before returning his eyes to search yours, “You do.”

“So, how about with every question I draw, we both answer,” you challenge. “I’m tired of only knowing that your favorite number is seven,”

“Okay,” he agrees, “Deal.”

With a victorious smile, you lift the lid of the mason jar, thankful not many customers are in your section for the moment. “Wait,” you pause when the sudden thought hits you, “Aren’t you going to get tired of this? Asking me so many questions?” You can’t help the curiosity, especially when you were so used to running out of things to talk about before.

“Not at all. There are always questions to ask. Even if it’s the same one every day, there’s always a ‘how are you?’ or ‘how was work today’ or even ‘did you have fun with your family today?’ I know some people don’t see it that way, but-”

“I do,” you murmur. There is always a conversation. Which is something you never realized you yearned for until now. When you hold his eyes a moment too long, you clear your throat, regaining your attention to the mason jar, carefully unfolding the first piece of paper you draw, reading the question aloud, “Who is the most inspiring person in your life?” Setting the piece of paper to the side, you take a minute to think about it, not knowing M is behind you pointing at herself- Hoseok stifling a laugh as M then turns to disappear into the kitchen. “I’d have to say, my mom.” You reply, M walking out of the kitchen just in time to hear your answer- slumping her shoulders which Hoseok catches in his peripheral vision. Oblivious to the whole situation, you just continue talking, “My mom always told me I could conquer anything if I put my mind to it.” Still looking up at the ceiling in concentration, you reiterate, “I’d have to say M, too.” M fist pumps in the air as she passes behind you once again, Hoseok completely entertained by the whole scene, finding your cluelessness about your best friend’s shenanigans cute. “She has saved me on many occasions. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” You now turn to Hoseok, “Your turn.” You demand. You watch as Hoseok joggles at the watch you complimented earlier, a sadness clouding his eyes.

“My grandfather,” he says, leaning forward, his hands so close they nearly touch yours. You wait as Hoseok swallows, gathering his words before speaking, “He used to bring me here when I was younger.” His tired smile barely reaches his eyes, “We would always get-”

“Pancakes with chocolate syrup,” you say in shock, the realization dawning on you, “That’s why-”

“Every day,” Hoseok nods, “He was my best friend. The picture of us on the wall here, it gives me strength every time I see it.”

“Hoseok, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, fighting the gesture to hold him in your arms, but you refrain from moving.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok promises, his eyes never leaving yours, “My sister gave me his watch, and coming here every day I get to remember him,” Hoseok pauses, his features suddenly becoming timid, “And every day I get to see you.”

Your heart immediately leaps at his words, and before you can respond, a group of women walk in and take a seat at a nearby table. “I’m sorry, Hoseok, hold on,” you whisper, irritation rising in you, but you repress it. Once you give the ladies their drink orders, you walk back to the counter, seeing Hoseok holding another question in his hands.

“Where is a place you have always wanted to travel to?” He reads and you can’t help but pause at the question- it catches you off guard, bringing a face you don’t want to think about to your mind.

“Ireland,” you murmur, your gaze falling to your twiddling hands, “Me and J-” You stop yourself, wincing at your almost mistake, “I’ve always wanted to go there since I was zero it feels like.”

“Why haven’t you?” Hoseok wonders, but, once again, before you can answer, another ding alerts you when an elderly man comes to sit at the counter. You quickly set the mason jar within a cubby behind the counter. “I better go. More questions tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hoseok smiles, and you rush to ask what drink the customer would like, your heart slightly falling when you feel Hoseok’s presence exit the restaurant.

Time ticks away to reveal how much emptier the mason jar has become, and the more questions you answer, the more you are finally learning about Jung Hoseok. It is like you have forgotten what a broken heart feels like, and though you will never admit it internally, Hoseok has threaded every piece back together in ways that you can’t reiterate. He happens to be a dance teacher at one of the local high schools which springs the explanation of why it’s ‘practically’ his job that he sees the same faces almost every day; he went to an University seven hours away to obtain his degree, and he has had a passion for dancing his entire life and is thankful to have a job where he can teach his dream. He happens to be addicted to Sprite and has a stuffed animal that is a horse named Mang gifted to him as a child by his Grandfather. Your favorite is knowing he has a dog named Mickey and that he loves his hair being messed with when he is trying to sleep which you ridiculously find enticing, but never plan to tell him.

Laughter has been the main contributor between the two of you- sharing your most embarrassing stories, cracking jokes whenever the restaurant calms, and as the days continue to pass, your excitement to come to work every day has never been so motivating, and for the first time in a long time, you’ve been going to bed with a smile on your face.

When the final folded piece of paper is staring back at you in the mason jar, you note the relief in Hoseok’s eyes as you reach in carefully, grasping the paper between your fingertips. Dramatically, you slowly unfold it, Hoseok tapping his fingertips on the counter nervously.

“You okay?” You tease.

“Never been better,” He tilts his head, his bucket hat shading his restless eyes.

When you finally open the final question, your eyes scan it as a gasp escapes your lips- the pace of your heart quickens as you swallow anxiously, joy rising within you, “Will-” You read, “Will you go on a date with me?”

When your gaze meets Hoseok’s, his contagious smile spreads across his face, his eyes shaping into crescents, “Well, I thought you’d never ask.”

A myriad of dates leads into relishing in new memories you have developed with none other than the source of your smile- Jung Hoseok. Twirling in a daze around your apartment, Hoseok makes it to you, helping you out of your jacket and turning to hang it on the coat rack sitting next to the front door.

“Do you really have to go?” You say softly, dreading the thought of him leaving for the night.

“I know, but we both have work in the morning, and we need sleep,” he reminds you, holding his arms out to invite you in. Hoseok walks you to your apartment after every date, enveloping you in a long, warm embrace before heading home. Without an ounce of hesitation, you cuddle into his chest, his cologne caressing your nose as his arms tighten around your back. His chin rests on the top of your head and the two of you rock from side to side, so delicate, and so full of serenity.

“Maybe- Maybe I don’t want to. Slee-” The words disappear on your lips once you break away just enough to gaze up at him, his proximity so inviting, his lips parting the moment your eyes flicker toward them, the desire to cling to him and let out all your emotions for him with what you’re longing for encases your mind. You swallow as your breathing increases, nerves swallowing every part of you, and Hoseok’s eyes bore into yours, reading every inch of your soul. You’re not sure what to do as panic fills you, especially when Hoseok leans closer, reading your mind more than you’d like to profess. When his nose brushes yours, you close your eyes, a sudden flash of Jeongguk’s face triggers you, and you drop your head in astonishment. “Hoseok,” you choke, “I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry, I- I can’t- I’m not-” You can’t even talk, stammering as you run a shaky hand through your hair.

“No, no, [Y/N]. You’re fine,” Hoseok settles his hands on your forearms to calm you, “I promise.” His words are so soft, you’re shocked you heard him, “I’m going to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” And with that, he gently squeezes your arms, his eyes trying to hide the sadness behind them, he then turns to walk to the door, the clicking sound of it shutting causes you to slam your eyes shut, burying your face in your hands.

“Shit,” you whisper. Regret amalgamating every fiber of your being, your muffled breaths warming your cold hands as you try to numb the pain deep in your chest. What the hell is wrong with you!? Bringing the back of your hand to your mouth, your chin quivers. You want him. You’ve been wanting him for a long time. What the hell is wrong with you!? You fucking lov-

And with that, something ignites within you. You are in love with him, Jung Hoseok, and nothing is going to tear that or him away from you. You are ready. Determination running through your veins so rapidly that you gain your composure. “Hoseok,” you whisper. “Hoseok, Hoseok wait!” You shout, throwing open the door as you stomp down the stairs faster than you thought you were capable of. “Hoseok!” You say, your eyes frantically searching for him along the darkened parking lot, “Hoseok, wait!” When your eyes find him, he pauses, turning to face you with concerned eyes and parted lips, “Hoseok!” You say as you race to him, your heart flying beneath you as tears stream down your face.

“[Y/N]? Are you-” He begins, but you don’t give him a chance. Grabbing the front of his jacket with both of your hands, you yank him to your level, crashing your lips to his, clutching onto him for dear life. It takes him a second to register what is now happening, but his kiss eases, his hands finding your cheeks as he moves his lips so effortlessly with yours. Your hands find the back of his head, stroking his hair as every ounce of love pours out of you- every memory churning- every moment Hoseok has looked at you with his beautiful smile- every jig he’s tried to dance on dates- the way his warm hands feel within yours- the way he says your name- the way he steals your heart every chance he gets- there are no words. Not one word to describe the infinity of love you have for this man capturing your soul right now. Your heart has never burst with so much elation, happiness swarming the two of you that it’s as if fireworks are igniting in the sky, exploding into numerous colors, covering the world with their soaring flecks of flame.

His kiss so passionate, you become lightheaded, the two of you pulling away just enough to stare into each other’s eyes- breathless, but you don’t care. You cup his face, with a wide smile, you whisper,

“Stay.”

There isn’t the slightest hesitation, the pair of you hardly make it up the steps, not able to veer away from the continuous kisses, not one thought of fear in someone walking outside to see the two of you lip locked in desperation as if the night is going to end too soon. His palms keep their hold upon your face, bruising your lips however long you allow him. You are not even certain how you both accomplished making it to your bedroom, but the way breaths mingle, you are ecstatic to know that Hoseok will not be going home tonight after all.

Thrusting him onto the bed, you hover above him, soaking in the sight of his messy hair and heaving chest, covering his mouth with yours once more before raking your fingers through his frizzy curls, mesmerized by the sensation of his hands sliding along your back so carefully, the thought of you developing his senses as you always have, his heart pounding in unison with yours because the happiness you bring him is showing in his every kiss, every smile, every word, every touch. He is so gentle in how he keeps your body molded to him, and the painstaking longing you feel as it grows immensely, you crave the feel of his skin.

Pulling him to sit up, you throw a leg over him into the classic straddle planting a slow kiss before yanking off his shirt, he is so dazed by your beauty, and the way you keep him so close, his eyes never leaving your nervous face as your fingertips grace along the buttons of your shirt. His breath hitches at the sight of your bra, cupping your breasts perfectly, his mouth watering with the desire to kiss the tops of them but he remains respectful. When your shirt sends a soft plop to the ground, you gradually move your hands to unclip the garment, revealing your chest in all entirely as his fingers grip at the comforter. Tilting your head seductively, you nod in permission, the tips of his fingers reaching to trace skillfully in feathery tickles, arousing you to the point you feel a warm gush within your core.

But Hoseok takes you by surprise. Placing a tepid kiss on your lips, he then kisses each corner of your mouth, hands never leaving above your bosoms, he then kisses your cheeks, so sweetly, you’re almost in awe of his reaction; he then kisses your nose, your temples, either of your closed eyelids, your forehead, to then returning another soft kiss to your tingling lips. It is as if he wants to prove that he cares more for you than just what you two are longing to finish as the night drives on, and just when you gasp into his kiss, his fingers find your nipples, the sensitive touch making the desire grow even stronger than before, your heat clenching in a need for him, and you desist from begging for him. Moaning, your tongue circles his- his kisses are so addicting you hardly can think straight. Gliding two fingers along his chest, you fumble trying to unbutton his pants and not long after he shimmies from them, you follow suit, curling your bare legs around his torso as the pair of you hold each other tightly, enthralled in the way his heated skin feels on yours, entangled frames still sharing passionate kisses, not wanting anything to end.

Enlightened by the way he spins you to cautiously laying you onto your back, his lips suck along your chest, your abdomen- kisses planted all across your skin, his frame scooting farther backwards before you feel the fresh air sweeping your vulva, his hands grabbing your thighs causing a high pitched whimper to escape your tensed frame. It has been so long since you have felt a sensation as this, and as Hoseok’s panting breaths sweep your vulva, so then follows opened mouth kisses tickling along the quivering skin enhancing the anticipation to an ultimate high as you hold your breath wishing he would dive in.

And when he does, the moans release, his tongue slowly flattening along your core before moving up and down so lovingly, you could finish now with how much he is arousing you. He picks up the pace after a minute, sloshing his tongue over and over, taking in the taste of you, not wanting to miss a drop as you whimper at the growing sense. Stopping him, you take the time to pleasure him, performing what you hope satisfies though just being with you in general is enough for Hoseok. He never dreamed that he would have a chance with you though he wished for it, and here you are, kissing him back, asking him to stay, professing your feelings even if it’s through intimacy.

Finding himself above you, bodies pressing together in the dead of night, time is no longer a concern. Nodding toward him swiftly after getting lost in his eyes, he places a devoted kiss before he brings his hand to his being, placing it at your entrance before slowly thrusting in. He moves in you, your legs tighten behind him as he smothers your mouth with more kisses, with each stroke, the power of your climax is building to its peak as you gasp his name in pleasure. His pelvic movements increase the more you plead and when the climaxes hit, your thighs tightening as the ecstasy releases, he collapses beside you, burying his nose in your neck as you gleefully intertwine your fingers with his. Completing the night with a happiness you thought you would never find again.

And waking up to Hoseok every morning henceforward, has become your new favorite thing. Especially with his arm always being laced around your waist, his gentle, slow kisses along the back of your neck. The way his eyes light up every time he so much as glimpses at you, and all you can think, as your smile never dims, is this what it’s like to be happy again? When he lingers above you after you both freshen up, his frilly hair tickles your forehead, your hands run along his bare chest, landing on his shoulders then tracing to his neck, you are so captivated with him, you forget about the world still turning outside of your bedroom walls.

Hoseok has never felt this way for anyone before, not until he met you. The first day back in the restaurant a couple years ago, he never dreamed he would ever awaken to you cuddled in his arms, longing for his embrace, and leaving traces of kisses upon his face, giggling at his jokes, wanting to learn more about him, the same as he wants to learn everything about you. His finger runs along the side of your face as he cherishes every ounce of your beauty shining from your heart out onto your glowing countenance. The words he’s been dying to say are waiting to leave him, your gaze never faltering as he inches to press a loving kiss on your lips.

“I love you,”

You’re stunned at first, the evidence is held by the way your heart skips, but you have never felt joy so astounding as it waves across your heart, your hands still placed behind his neck, you’re nearly speechless, the words close to escaping your lips-

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Ah, shit!” you groan, shutting the alarm clock off as the two of you hastily get ready for work. Arriving at your job lately has been filled with light teasing, and prolonged questions especially when your coworkers have noticed the change in your step, dancing around the tables, humming little ditties, snapping your fingers until you take someone’s order. Hoseok still comes to get his pancakes on a daily, the two of you remaining professional although you’d do anything not to bury the desire to smother him with kisses all over his handsome face.

One morning, after Hoseok left the restaurant to head to work, M appears by your side, slamming her crossed arms on the counter.

“He said it, didn’t he,” She accuses, her knowing grin meets her eyes. You can’t stop the smile forming on your lips, as you continue to fiddle with a bracelet Hoseok gifted you. “He did!” M gasps, pulling you into a tight hug. Your best friend has shipped this relationship since the beginning, she has proclaimed, and there is no one else you’d want to share your joy with than her. “Double date this Friday?” She beams whenever you both pull away.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you smile, pulling her into another hug.

As another month slips away into time, many days of Hoseok hugging you from behind, cornering you with sultry kisses, asking you questions you’d never think he’d come up with, gifting you with his presence in every way he can. You’ll never get tired of him, you’ll never get tired of this, you think inwardly, gripping the front of his short-sleeved, flowery shirt hanging loose on his frame.

“Oh,” Hoseok groans, “Why do you do this to me?” He smiles, stealing a quick kiss. Once he pulls away, you can’t help but tease.

“I’m not done, yet,” pulling him to your lips again, feeling his smile once you do. You fall back onto the couch, his dark green ballcap still remains on his head, as his figure tangles with yours, getting lost in your kiss as he deepens it. His warm hand grips your waist causing your shirt to rise to reveal exposed skin he then caresses as his other hand rests beside you. Hands cupping his face, your thumbs stroke his cheeks, your gasps light as he trails his lips along your neck.

When you then return to kiss him, his warmth overtaking you, a knock on the door sounds. Jolting in surprise, you raise your head with furrowed eyebrows, taking a second to register it. You both are confused since you haven’t been expecting anyone.

“Maybe it’s M,” you shrug. Hoseok and you straighten your clothes, him fixing his fluffy bangs and setting his hat straighter. Walking to the door, you unlock the deadbolt, slowly opening it to reveal who is waiting behind it. When your eyes fall upon the figure, the shock engulfing you nearly shatters your entire being, your eyes widening as the pain stabs every millimeter of your entirety.

Jeongguk, your long-lost past, stands before you, hands in his pockets, his eyes holding sorrow as he swallows panicky, trying to gather his words and failing. You can’t move, you’re frozen in place, your words robbed from you, as you feel the world turn ice cold. “Hi,” he murmurs, his brown eyes barely holding your gaze, your hands wanting to tremble as one grips the door handle, the other gripping the door frame until your fingertips are ghost white. When Hoseok notices your tense shoulders, your body rigid, concern immediately dawns on him as he steps to stand by your side.

“[Y/N]?” Hoseok says. You turn to see him, his eyes staring ahead of him to discover your ex-boyfriend whose eyes enlarge at the sight of Hoseok who reaches to rest a hand on your back to steady you. Nausea wallows in the depths of your stomach, your fingertips brush Hoseok’s free wrist, him immediately meeting your frantic eyes. As if he reads your mind, he nods once in understanding ‘I won’t be far’ his eyes read, then flickering one more intimidating look at Jeongguk before turning into the apartment. You opened up to Hoseok about the breakup, but never once did you think the past would come to haunt you, especially now that you have given your heart to someone else. Someone who deserves it. Swiftly you close the door behind you, swallowing once before looking up at Jeongguk, tears pooling in your eyes as your body trembles, the pain so overwhelming, you’re surprised you’re still standing.

Jeongguk begins softly, “[Y/N],”

“Where have you been?”

Your tone is angrier than you expect, but can you really blame yourself? He left you without a warning, leaving you feeling worthless, trying to figure out how to manage the pain without any explanation. Without any closure. Jeongguk is tense, his dark hair covers his forehead, his thin lips part as he lets out a weary sigh.

“[Y/N],” he whispers, “I’m so sorry, I-”

“You’re sorry!?” You breathe in astonishment, still fighting the tears wanting to trail continuously down your face, your arms hugging yourself tight to suppress the shivering. “Seven months without a trace, and you’re sorry!?” Your whispered voice reveals the agony, Jeongguk wincing at the pain he’s caused, shame hovering his mien. How can someone you used to admire, someone you used to shower with warm embraces, share an irrevocable love betray you in the blink of an eye? It’s something you will never understand. Everything you once adored about him has faded with time, the pain subsided, you almost forgot about him entirely, until now. “Did you not think I deserved a warning?” You question, “A conversation!?”

He stares up at the dark night, his tired eyes trying to hide the tears threatening to spill onto his jacket. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I didn’t know what to do. I felt stuck. I felt-”

“And you didn’t consider that maybe I needed to know that?” You raise your hand in irritation, none of what he’s saying makes any sense. “I loved you.” You choke back a sob, “I would have done anything for you. How could you just dismiss it like that didn’t mean a damn thing to you?”

“[Y/N],” Chin quivering, his hands leave his pockets reaching in your direction.

“No!” you cry, backing away from him, “Don’t touch me.” Jeongguk settles his hands to his sides, not meeting your gaze as large tears stream down his cheeks, longing to comfort you though he knows he’s lost all opportunity to do so. “Tell me why,” you wipe at the tears, preparing yourself for whatever truth he may reveal, “After three years together, tell me why.”

Jeongguk runs a hand through his hair, his wounded expression hesitant, “It was the same routine every day.” He confesses, his voice thick with repressed pain, “I felt like I was living the same day on repeat over and over again until I just- I couldn’t take it anymore.” The words cut like knives, deep into your heart, tearing at you leaving gaping wounds in their wake. Jeongguk had become bored with you. He became so bored with the life the two of you lived, that he just left it all behind to obtain whatever he thought he would find. Now it all makes sense, the nights he stopped holding you close, the empty conversations, the distance you brushed off as him needing space, it all comes back to you at once. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to-” Words die on his tongue as he clenches his jaw, “I wanted to-”

Anger bubbles as your hands form into fists, “Hold on,” you mutter through clenched teeth, pulling the door open, stomping to the bedroom, Hoseok’s voice calling your name, pain searing through you as you thrust open the closet door, tossing things out of the way until you find it. Gripping it in your hands, you trample back to the doorway, shoving it in Jeongguk’s hands, him nearly dropping it to shatter in pieces. When he turns the jar, his mouth opens in surprise, the word Ireland stares back at him.

“What?” He breathes, his voice hardly audible.

“I was saving as much as I could for a trip to Ireland. For us! For you!” You say through clenched teeth, the anger still boiling as you try to steady your breathing. You can tell he’s alarmed, and if he thought he was abashed enough as it is, nothing tops the humiliation he feels as his eyes remain glued to the jar full of money meant for a dream the two of you could have lived together.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say,”

“Seems like you never did,” your comment is harsh, but you stand your ground because if there is anything you will not do, is to let him think for one second, he will ever stand a chance of winning you back. “I wasn’t enough for you.” You shake your head slowly, “I see that now,” Reaching for the jar, Jeongguk hands it to you in defeat, his heart torn in so many pieces for what he’s done, he knows he will never forgive himself for what he did to you. To someone who loved him unconditionally. To someone, he wished he would have realized he had when he had you.

“[Y/N], I’m so sorry, please. Just please know that,” he whispers, his eyes pleading as your heart wrenches at his words, wishing the pain of this situation would officially heal. Your quavering hand searches for the door handle behind you, your demeanor resonating nothing but true anguish. Staring at his face, his dimples visible from his pressed lips as his chin trembles, tears reappearing in the eyes you used to get lost in, the line of his jaw you used to trace dreamily every morning when first waking up, every desire to hear his voice is gone. Disappeared forever in the past where memories of him will linger but will never be longed for. With one more stare, your body weak from the shock, you gather enough strength to let it all go. To let him go.

“Goodbye, Jeongguk,” you whisper, turning the knob to the front door, “Goodbye.”

You don’t look back, and you don’t plan to. Shutting the door behind you, your back remains against it as you squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to slip to the floor, but instead you set your Ireland jar on the ground. Your body feels so drained from all your nerves being shot that you’re not sure what else to do other than to remain frozen in place.

“[Y/N]?” Hoseok’s voice is barely a whisper. Opening your eyes, you meet Hoseok’s, his lips turned down in a devastated frown, his heart broken at the pain he sees you’re going through. With a quick pace, you walk toward him, collapsing into his arms, the wails escaping you as every tear you’ve tried to hold back stream like waterfalls down your face. You can’t find any words, just crying the hurt away, Hoseok holds you tight against his chest. When your sobs gradually cease, Hoseok notices the jar near the door, and with respect, he kept his distance from the door earlier, letting your conversation between you and your ex-boyfriend remain private. Pulling away, you follow his gaze, guilt overwhelming you because you never told him about the savings jar. Mostly since it was originally created with the idea of going with a previous partner. Now, it’s simply savings for yourself, though it will take some time for you to see it that way.

When Hoseok picks up the jar, he reads the logo in the center, shock overwhelming him. Little do you know, ever since you told him months ago that your dream was to go to Ireland, he also has been putting extra money in a savings jar with the intent on surprising you one day. Though he wants to tell you, especially with how surreal this whole situation is, he doesn’t. Between the money you saved along with his, he knows that it’s enough to cover the cost of the whole trip between you both. Inwardly, he comes up with a plan, if his job is okay with it, and possibly your job, then maybe he can continue arranging your surprise after all.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, hugging yourself tightly in order to find some comfort, sniffing back at the sting of tears brimming your eyes.

“Why are you apologizing?” Hoseok sets the jar on the coffee table in front of the couch, immediately pulling you into his arms. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Hearing his words moves you, and you cling to him, never wanting to let him go as long as you live. You’re not sure what else to say or do other than to hold him, letting his arms bring a comfort you’ve fallen in love with, his fingers stroking the line of your spine, his warm lips moving to press a tender kiss on yours. When he rests his forehead against yours, your hands hold his wrists as he cups your face, the both of you enthralled with each other without even having to use words. You pull away momentarily, just enough to stare into Hoseok’s soft, brown eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper for only him to hear. When Hoseok’s eyes reveal tears, he’s tried so hard to hold back, his bottom lip trembling, you finally say the words you’ve felt within your heart ever since the night of your first kiss with him,

“Before you gave me the dandelion seeds,” Tears spill onto your cheeks, your voice wavering, “you asked me what the biggest wish I ever wished was,” you recall, the memory swarming in your mind feels as if it was lived just yesterday, “At the time, I honestly wasn’t sure. Not that I really had a second to answer you, but one thing I longed for, especially at that moment, was happiness.” You wet your lips, Hoseok’s eyes never leaving yours as he listens to your every word, “A few days after you gave the dandelions to me, I did make a wish.” You admit, a smile adorning your face, “I realized that every time you walked into those doors, I never stopped smiling. Every time you saw me, you took the chance to know me, finding a way to make me smile again and again,” you look down timidly for a moment, a sweet giggle escaping your lips, “When I made my wish, Hoseok, I wished for you,” Hoseok’s arms squeeze you closer, his face cuddling to yours as joy flies within his soul. You meet his gaze one more time,

“You are my happiness, Hoseok,” your heart soars, “And, I love you with all I am.”

Four months later…

“Hey, Hobi?” You bellow from your bedroom as you shuffle through your drawers, “I swear I put it in here,” you mutter to yourself, tossing each article of clothing out of the way to glimpse for what you’re looking for.

“Yes, [Y/Nickname]?” Hoseok’s voice calls back to you, the sound of his footsteps nearing. When he pauses at the door frame, he leans against it, an amused expression on his face as he watches you struggle, his hands slipping into his jeans’ pockets.

You briefly glare at him trying to stifle the grin wanting to tug onto your lips, “Where is my flower crop top, you know, the one I wore recently? I swear I put it in the drawer.”

“Did you check the closet?” He asks, and you pause for a moment.

“I did,” you murmur, putting your fingertips to your mouth as you begin to chew at the bottom of your lip, “I wanted to wear it again this weekend when I have a girl’s night out with LenLen and M.”

You’re in your work uniform in preparation to leave in the next ten minutes, and you’re nearly driving yourself mad by not being able to find your current favorite top.

“Did you check the laundry? The washer?” Hoseok questions, you are nodding in reply.

Raking a hand through your hair, you heave a heavy sigh, “I’m just gonna go make some toast real quick. I’ll just look for it tonight,” You notice in your peripheral vision, Hoseok chuckling to himself, but you brush it off, throwing some toast into the toaster. After a minute, it’s ready and you set it on a plate spreading some of your favorite jam along the crusty slice. When warm arms encompass you from behind, you nearly melt, leaning your head back as Hoseok plants a warm kiss on the side of your neck. “I loathe you,” you joke, your smile so wide, butterflies tickle your tummy, you turn enough to steal a quick kiss, letting the sensation of his lips linger. When you desire for one more, instead you’re greeted with a likewise smile,

“I didn’t know people like to kiss somebody they despise,”

“Oh,” you playfully slap his shoulder, returning to the toast you’re eager to stuff your face with. “I need to leave for work.” You state, taking a large bite from your breakfast.

“No, you don’t,” Hoseok’s words catch you by surprise as you turn fully to face him, the toast still in your mouth for your second bite. A few strands of loose hair fall into your face.

“I wish,” you groan, taking a third bite of the toast, “But, ya girl’s gotta make a living somehow.” You shrug, turning back around to unplug the appliance.

There’s a pause for a moment, your gorgeous boyfriend eyeing you, his dark, fluffy hair close to covering his soft eyes. “What if-” He begins, inching closer to you, “What if I were to tell you that you really don’t have to go to work today?” Slowly, you turn to face him once again, staring at him in confusion, “I’m serious, what if I were to tell you that for the next two weeks you will be off work? Too far away to be available for them to call you in?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you cross your arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, “Well, it’s Monday, don’t you have to work?” You counter, your toast mostly devoured at this point. When Hoseok chuckles, you playfully scoff, rolling your eyes, “You’re so full of it.”

You nudge your shoulder to him as you brush past, reaching for your purse and car keys, preparing to walk out the front door.

“You really don’t have to go to work today,” Hoseok, still laughing, you whirl around to face him, your hands landing on your hips in humored irritation. “Or, for the next two weeks if I’m being precise.”

“Jung Hoseok,” you huff, “if you do not tell me what the hell is going on, I will knock you into yesterday so fast-”

“Whoa, whoa,” he holds his hands out in mock defense, he’s still laughing it takes him a moment before he continues, “I mean you can totally do that if you’d like, but I would hate for the second ticket to Ireland to go to waste.”

What. Did he just say?

Your limbs are limp, freezing in place, your jaw drops, your eyes widen, tears of shock pooling along your eyelids, “What?” You breathe, your purse falling from your arm as well as your keys from your numb fingers. “Did you just say?” Hoseok nods, your heart hammering beneath you as you gaze at the love of your life standing before you with his never-ending smile.

“You’re not going to work for the next two weeks because you will be in Ireland,” his words are loving as he speaks, “With me.”

“You mean it?” Your voice comes out in an excited choke as adrenaline rushes through your veins. “Hoseok, do you mean it? Is this for real!?”

“I mean it, [Y/N]. One hundred percent,” And with that, you sprint to him, jumping into his arms, he lifts you up, spinning you around multiple times, tears streaming down your face in pure happiness.

“WE’RE GOING TO IRELAND!” You shout, him setting you down, the two of you enveloped in each other’s arms, swaying side to side as you cry into his shoulder. A dream you have dreamed for so long is finally coming true all because of the man standing right before you. Gasping, you pull away,

“I need to pack!” You freak, your fingers gripping his biceps absentmindedly.

“Already done,” Hoseok chirps, his eyes dancing when you meet his gaze with furrowed eyebrows.

“What about M and LenLen?”

“Were in on it the whole time,” He winks.

“What?”

“I already packed our bags,” He muses, “The top you’re missing? Amongst many other articles of clothing I managed to sneak past you, are awaiting in packed bags in the trunk of my car.” You stare at him in amazement, so speechless you’re not even sure if you’re comprehending what he’s saying by the shock overpowering your mind. “Also, LenLen and Monnie planned that trip to distract you from becoming suspicious,” Hoseok pinches your chin with his fingertips, “Oh,” He says, “Our flight leaves in less than three hours, so I don’t know about you, but I think we should get going.”

“Well,” You breathe, “What are you waiting for, slowpoke!? Let’s go!” You grab his hand, dragging him headfirst through the front door, locking it behind the two of you as you both jog to his car, his laugh echoing in the air- the both of you are ecstatic for the journey ahead. Once the two of you arrive at the airport, you both figure out luggage and board the plane, Hoseok lets you sit at the window, your eyes gazing at the land below you, your fingers intertwined with his, basking in the scenery you never dreamed you’d finally see.

As your eyes remain outside the window, Hoseok’s eyes remain on you as he falls in love with you all over again- watching you stare at the earth below in astonishment, every now and then nudging him to peek outside at whatever captured your vision. Unbeknownst to you, he has so much more in store. He planned this trip from beginning to end, and though nervous jitters surround his heart, there is nowhere else he’d rather be, than right by your side,

holding your hand until the end of time.

Greenery sways in the wind, the deep green losing its glisten as the sun sets ahead, the cattle spread across the field grazing among the grass, the purple and orange hues reflecting in the sky as a gentle, warm breeze wisps through your hair. Hoseok closes his eyes, his chin pointed upward enjoying the feel of it all the same as you are, the land so immense it’s as though the few dirt paths never end. His fingers are interlaced with yours, a mason jar on the center of the table- previously refilled with numerous questions he had yet to ask you- two freshly picked dandelions lay on the other side of the jar, the deep gold of the petals vibrant, their fragrance meeting your nose as you inhale the sweet scent. Ireland. A land you’ve longed to tread for so many years, and here you are, sitting in the country, basking in the scenery encompassing the two of you.

“There’s one more question left,” Hoseok speaks, a loving grin forming on his pink lips when your dreamy gaze meets his.

“I know,” you whisper, him squeezing your hand. Staring at the final piece of folded paper at the bottom of the mason jar, with your free hand, you reach into it, noticing it is held down by one small piece of tape. That’s funny, you wonder, scraping at the corner of the tape as tediously as you can. Struggling, you hardly notice Hoseok rising to his feet, scooting off to side out of your peripherals, his fingers leaving yours momentarily to adjust at his shirt collar. Once the tape loosens just enough to remove from the bottom of the jar, you bring the folded paper closer to you, using both hands to carefully unfold it.

The second you register the words staring back at you, tears brim your eyes as a gasp escapes your lips, bringing your fingertips to your mouth, your gaze turns to land upon Hoseok, kneeled before you, tears welling in his own eyes as his lips tremble, reaching into his pocket to reveal a small, black velvet box, your heart pounding within your chest as you let out a breathy cry.

“[Y/N],” Hoseok begins, your fingers covering beneath your eyes as you wipe every tear that pours. “When I first met you, there was something about you that made me want to know you more and more every day.

Maybe it’s the way you smiled at me every morning when I arrived at the restaurant. Or, the way your eyes lit up the moment you greeted someone at every table. Or, your cheery voice when you’re around your friends and family. Or, the way you stay strong despite what is thrown at you.

But what really got me, what really inspired me, is the way that you see the world.” You gaze at the man before you, getting lost in his brown eyes, your heart soaring with his every word,

“Wishes instead of weeds. Something that is seen to be negative, you see as the most beautiful source to decorate the earth. Something that you can wish on to bring positivity. To bring hope.” Hoseok pauses, a tear streaming down his face, “I knew when I met you that you were someone special. But, that day, that day particularly, I knew right then that I wanted you in my life regardless.” Hoseok wets his lips, as another tear spills on his cheek, “Forever,” he breathes, “[Y/N]?” He opens the velvet box exposing a beautiful, shimmering diamond ring, “Will you make my biggest wish I’ve ever wished come true, and marry me?”

When your wide smile adorns your face, an excited gasp leaves your lips,

“I thought you’d never ask!”

153 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 4 years ago

Photo

Imagine having a child with a guy named Jimmy. Cursed.

OTHERWISE you all pretty much echoed what I was thinking, bless you.

cw pregnancy / forced pregnancy

(As ever, this is all in the context of dark personalities. I hesitate to say yandere, although that’s kind of become synonymous with dark personality AU’s and an obvious argument can be made that a darker take on the characters could lead into a yandere scenario)

Ferdinand von Aegir

~While I don’t think he’d go out of his way to have a baby, he definitely wouldn’t take any steps to avoid it, either. That is, he wouldn’t really stray into breeding kink territory or anything of that kind but he’s not gonna pull out either.

~But, yeah, if you were to get pregnant, Ferdinand wouldn’t be displeased by any means. He’d legitimately think it was the best way to “fix” things and out of a misguided attempt to ignore any negative aspects of the relationship and cling to the idealism of a happy marriage.

~Just a side note, but I def see him with a body worship kink and I can only begin to imagine how that would intensify with his weakness for the softness and so-called beauty of motherhood. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

~Honestly, I don’t see him overtly leveraging as a manipulation tactic. No, he’s good enough that his genuine feelings could do the job for him. Like, it’s not just you anymore. You’re responsible for another life so don’t you think you just trust him and let him take care of you? Oh, sure, he’d humor you (on account of the hormones) and say that he understands why you’re upset, but please just calm down. Everything will be all right, he’ll take care of you.

~I think that Ferdinand would want a family even without the whole dark personality aspect. The way he’d see it is that children are a natural result of a union and love. He’d absolutely cherish your children if for no other reason than the fact that they’d be half you, although you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t have a horrible weakness for kids.

~You’d be barely showing and he’d be picking out baby names and getting opinions on how to decorate the nursery and occasionally freaking out due to anticipation and nerves. He’d be really, disastrously, over-the-top protective, too. I just assume white magic would greatly lessen the infant and mother mortality rate but that doesn’t entirely remove the risk of complications so he’d be cloyingly careful about everything you ate, keeping tabs on any possible oddity going on with you. And, you know, I think he would enjoy emotionally taking care of you. Like if you were scared or sad or anything, I think he’d enjoy comforting you in a way that’s definitely not healthy. He’d enjoy being needed, I suppose.

~Yeah, so overall I view any sort of darker personality take on Ferdinand to be him, but with his sweet and noble and protective traits dialed up to an eleven without any sort of self awareness to make him pause and consider that maybe you don’t feel the same so having a child like this, as an intentional act of manipulation to make you stay or not, would be within the realm of possibilities.

Sylvain Jose Gautier (Bastard Man)

~Sylvain is pretty easy to imagine with a dark personality. I mean, assuming you have no pity in your heart and are willing to write him in a way that he never was able to get over his myriad issues, self hatred, severe distrust of people’s true intentions, and familial trauma.

~Assuming all that, and entertaining the idea that he could never find a good balance of repression and escapism, I think Sylvain would create an unhealthy emotional bond to a single person he believed to be exempt from his overall dismal regard for people and do this fun little thing where he’d chaotically flip flop between extreme emotions of distrust, blame, and anger and adoration, need, and a desperation to be seen as he was and still loved.

~But it’d be a brutal cycle because he’s not the delusional type. Sometimes he could be, both with the good and the bad, but those would be kind of episodic. There’d be bad days where he’d be utterly convinced that you were just like the rest and he’d pick little fights and generally just be pretty pissy. But then sometimes he’d be blinded by love and so caught up in it that even if you told him no, he’d take it with a cheeky wink because of course you loved him and everything was so good. But, mostly, it’d just be a lot of dysfunction and Sylvain trying to lure you into a nice, good relationship with him by being mostly normal and decently charming and even, occasionally, being vulnerable (and tricking you into being vulnerable with him).

~Anyway, back to the point. With all that context, why not bring a baby into the mix, right?

~How many times does Sylvain bring up crest babies. Please, someone do a hard count and get back to me because damn son. So, may I just say, if anyone of these three were to have a breeding kink it’d be him. Is that controversial? Just think about it. Every girl ever wants him mystical crest cum, right? So, mentally, the whole thing would have a lot of weight and significance. Also Sylvain just strikes me as the type who’d be self aware enough of his dark and unhealthy needs that staking as intimate of a claim as that would be erotic. Unlike the other two, the act of forcing an irreversible and tangible change in your body and mind would be interesting. Not that he’d tell you any of that, or even dwell on it himself.

~I’m torn between Sylvain saying it was an accident and him using the argument that since the two of you were in love, it was only natural that you’d start a family together. How could you not want to have his children? Better yet, how was he supposed to know that you wanted to wait.

~But if you continued to be unreasonable, he’d go on the defensive. Like, what are you going to do? Leave him? For what? To raise his baby on your own? Or, worse, abandon your child? If you thought he’d voiced unfairly negative opinions about women before, the way he’d talk about a mother who abandoned her child and such a good, happy life with a loving husband would be infinitely worse. After all, he wanted to make a change in your relationship and be happy together. He wanted to be a good, loving father. He wanted a family with you. After everything, what kind of person would you be to throw that all away?

~So that’s... a lot.

~But Sylvain’s the type to be awful in the moment then regret it after the heat dies down. Knowing he’d hurt you would genuinely tear him up inside. All of that adoration and desperation to keep you with him because he’d feel like he needed you to be happy would kick in and he’d break down under the guilt and tell you how much he loved you, how happy it made him to think that the two of you could have a family, that he knew you would be a great mother, that he knew he’d messed up but he would make it up to you, that you really could be a happy family.

~Just saying, I can see him taking a perverse sort of pleasure in the physical effects of pregnancy. Also, he’d definitely be a lot softer with you. Guilty conscience, anyone?

Dimitri (Dimi) (Jimmy)

~You, dear anon, said it better than I could have myself. I agree SO HARD that Dimitri would be terrified of being a parent, but at the same time I think, if it were to happen, he’d be utterly enamored with the idea. There’s a lot more that I think about how he’d regard fatherhood, but that’s the gist.

~Funny thing is, darker Dimitri is just like... More needy... unbearably protective... Paranoid... less stable... bad at managing his emotions when it comes to you... But, like, the same general emotions about fatherhood would apply because that’s already pretty complex. Only, this time, with an obvious emphasis on how it would effect you and your relationship.

~I was going to say that I can’t see Dimitri purposefully impregnating you, but that’s not entirely true. In a fit where he’s feeling especially raw and paranoid, I think he would do it very purposefully and even almost-kinda-sorta relish in the idea.

~I view his obsessive feelings to be like an itch he can’t quite scratch because he knows better than anybody how easy it would be to lose you and doesn’t know how to manage both his own instability with the unpredictable world because at any moment it could all spiral apart.

~So, this in mind, he could believe that having a baby would make things different. More than just vows or words or rings or anything, it would be a concrete and absolute tie between the two of you. He would have an unquestionable claim over you that would go beyond the scope of just your relationship, you’d be carrying the royal heir which would give Dimitri even further valid excuses to be suffocatingly overprotective.

~It would be... So messy... On the one hand, I think the concept of fatherhood, of being given another chance, of being needed that much more by both you and the child, would really appeal to him. It could even sand off some of the rougher edges of his darker traits, now that he had this assured security in keeping you with him. Sure, the itch wouldn’t be scratched entirely, but it would be easier to ignore, there would be a solid way to reassure himself that you were his.

~But Dimitri’s got this awful middle ground of self awareness. Anything that would come off delusion would be a result of his endless attempts at rationalizing his unhealthy feelings and trying to make sense of it all without having to actually confront the issues. But that wouldn’t mean he wouldn’t know, on some level, that what he was doing wasn’t healthy and how bad it was for you. The guilt would be intense, which would be apart of the reason he needed to keep you so close all the time because then he could pretend that you needed him just as badly, that everything was all right because he could take care of you better than anyone else.

~Dimitri’s self aware guilt would allow a part of himself to understand that he should let you go. He could even, on the bad days, convince himself that maybe, one day, he would allow you to leave him because he loved you, because what he was doing was wrong. As long as you were near him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, he would always hurt you.

~But using pregnancy to force you to stay with him would, perhaps even in an intentional subconscious way, cut off that last-ditch contingency to ease his own guilt and pain of what he was doing by keeping you with him. Now that you were going to be having his child, the royal heir, would mean that you could never leave. He’d know it. You would probably know it, too.

~After that point, Dimitri would double down with proving his affection, proving that he was capable of taking care of you and his child and that you could be a family and everything would be okay.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #ferdinand von aegir #sylvain jose gautier #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #yandere #fe ferdinand #fe sylvain #fe dimitri #pregnancy tw #headcanons #this is fucked up and i didn't intend to have this much to say #fucking jimmy #i'm not even INTO this like fuck having children but when it's all mental fuckery it tastes so good #i'm sorry guys

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bettertheworld · 4 years ago

Text

To change, you have to change.

The most important crash-course our planet is on is with itself, it doesn't matter that in billions of years our solar system is going to collide with a nearby galaxy, our planet is on a crash-course with human habits and they're already ruining the world bite-by-bite, meal-by-meal.

Yes, there are other factors threatening our existence causing climate change, but none of those factors have as much impact as what we ingest as 'foods' and 'drinks'. None of those other factors can be compromised because people need to travel to and from work, move about the world, people need to get goods from one part of the world to another etc...

What people don't need is to support the burning and deforestation of the Amazon Rainforest and other grasslands to allow cattle to graze, we don't need meat to exist as a thing that keeps us fed - that idea is 100s of years old and if you haven't heard, Justus Von Liebig was wrong – very wrong. For an idea that old to be so strongly affecting us today, means we're living in the past - we don't need animals to get ample protein in our lives. Ignoring the problems the present is creating is a true and horrible crime of today, but you should also realize that someone is pulling the strings behind the scenes and initially, it's not our fault. If this scenario were a person in their life, a medical doctor would send that person to a psychotherapist, and you know that doctor would have already started them on an SSRI among other drugs that they would be getting kick-backs on.

Later on I'll describe to you what the Disease Model is, and how Doctors operate within those boundaries to keep us sick, but alive.

The Covid-19 pandemic is the canary in the coal-mine telling us that if we don't change our ways, minds, and belief systems, it's going to be too late to save life as we know it; look at Covid-19, it’s already doing that. Misguidedly, I tried so many times to inform and help people accept the facts, but at that time, I didn’t know that, new facts are polarizing, they don’t just change belief-systems. I burnt so many bridges wasting effort on people who weren't ready to accept new information, who didn't want to change, and who at best wanted to make me look like a blabbing fool. What does it take to make someone talking pure gold look like their talking garbage? The answer is a loyal following. Take away the loyalists, and you take away Those-Who-Resist's ground to stand on. Inform the following, and instead of working against them, like Othello, you're now working with them. Seems easy, but it's an absolute nightmare sometimes to be on this mission – while trying to do life.

The bottom line is this, If we don't change our eating habits, we're going to be looking back on 2020 and we're going to regretfully say, 'we should have listened, we should have read the true science and informed ourselves and understood that vegan activists are sharing information so that we can minimize our impact which elongates the future for generations to come, not to take away anyone's rights or freedoms today'. You might not see all of those right away, but I need to make the point about 2020 and it's a bit cheesy, here it is in a series of extremely short sentences. 2020. Vision. Hindsight. (You see what I’m doing here?) Covid-19. Human deaths. Animal flu Spillover. Cause of covid. These points are all strongly connected and the answer to the problem is, leave the animals alone. We can easily be getting all nutrients from plants, thereby eliminating the ability for animal flu spillover, stopping future pandemics and living successfully and healthfully. Wow, seems simple. If you need proof about how vegans can kill it physically, check out Nimai Delgado on Instagram. Here's a hint - do not worry about adequate protein intake – I would worry a whole lot more if I still ate meat.

Did you know that a chickpea has every amino acid that your body needs and none of the cholesterol that lays down fatty streaks in your arteries? Dietary cholesterol only comes from eating animal products. Did you know that of the 20 amino acids, only 9 are essential? Did you know that plants make amino acids? Did you know plants make ALL amino acids? Did you know you can live healthfully with just eating plants? If you doubt, check out nutritiondata.com; it will set you free.

I had the hindsight to realize that we are the problem, what I was eating was harming me, and that change happened without me forfeiting anything and that what I needed to thrive and live my best, most fulfilling and healthiest life was growing in the ground and putting carbon back into the ground thereby removing carbon dioxide from the air? What was being bled out, hung upside down, chopped into pieces, packaged, and then referred to as Halal Beef or 'extra-lean ground chuck' was killing me from within. It is my hunch that in the future, Halal will be condemned as an inhumane and non-sustainable practice. If you doubt my words, consider watching Earthlings, and I mean ALL of Earthlings – It's free on Youtube.

Covid-19 was caused by humans' interactions with animals. You can try to re-word, re-frame, re-everything the previous sentence, but you can't, we caused it by conquering the world and being negligent with our logistics and lack of science. It doesn't matter if you can conjure up conspiracy theories or already understand that it's our closeness with animals that has caused the pandemic. I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty details because that's already been done. I'm here to send a wake-up call to anyone who will listen, anyone who will change, anyone who cares about their children, nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters, parents, or anyone who will live beyond your years, basically anyone beyond yourself. Yes these are strong words, but these are grim times.

Are you going to be in the group who changed given the information that is out there, or will you be in the stubborn group who thinks they can interpret the science better than the professionals can? Are you going to continue to believe that every falsely "debunked" meat-free solution as a result of fake news is remotely inclusive or correct? Are you going to choose greed and personal choice over minimizing your impact on the future? Are you going to let fake news scare you into eating meat? The only reason why you have a choice today is because of capitalism, but is capitalism helping or killing you? Take capitalism away, and you would be left with no choice, you would be doing what is best for the planet because that’s also best for you and, if you don’t know, climate change is already here!

Again, I'm not here to take away your personal choice, I'm here to instill a sense of agency within you, to give you the power to take control of your life, to be in the driver's seat with regard to your own health, and to reframe the choices that you have so that you can choose better for whatever the rest of your years look like or whatever may come to be on this planet because of you. Do you want to be part of the solution, or would you rather defend your right to live unsustainably because you have money?

Take the rich for example, whatever you want, you get because they have the money for it. Well, consider the fact that heart disease has not been linked to a lower socioeconomic status, instead it affects everyone roughly equally if you're all eating an equal amount of animal protein and animal fats, you're all getting just about the same amount of sick (ignoring specific nutrient deficiencies). Whether you're eating the rarest of blood-dripping steaks with the fanciest 1000-thread count napkins on your laps, or you're going through a McDonald's drive-thru dropping lettuce all over your car because all your bank account will let you do is get a Bacon-Double-Cheeseburger and the person who made it can’t get all the lettuce between the patties, either way that animal fat is being pushed into your arteries by your blood pressure and the animal protein is wreaking havoc in your body promoting your genes to signal cancer growth within your body. It doesn't matter if you're eating only white meat vs red, animal protein does not promote optimal health for a human being.

Eating meat was the exception and necessary at one point in time within evolution, but it was never meant to be a long-term solution, how do I know this? Our bodies tell us that. Our teeth are flat for grinding roughage, our teeth cannot shred muscle very well. We have elongated GI systems designed to absorb complex carbohydrates, our stomach acid is not as strong as true carnivores. We require vitamin C in our diet which relates to us having trichromatic vision, vs Lions that only see black, white and grey. Vitamin C is found in plants, not meat. Yes we have the ability to digest meat, but it wreaks havoc on our bodies, and it takes a long time to see the result of that action develop into symptoms of various cardiovascular diseases, and cancers.

With regard to deciding to finally kill Betsy the cow because you’re starving and need to eat something? Can you imagine being that person who had to hack up the first cow when it went against their way of life at the time? How traumatic it would be! Maybe you can imagine doing it yourself right now, and or it's time to think, "If I can't do it, how am I going to pay someone else to do it? Ask yourself that 3 times.

Necessity has a way of changing us because we’ll do anything to survive. Whether you accept it or not, we're already at that point of necessity with regard to climate and I’m glad someone has done something about it. Look at Greta Thunberg, if you haven't seen her documentary, I highly recommend it, it's called 'Greta'. A child who has been handed an unfair start at life, facing a climate crisis and being left to think, 'what's the point of me doing anything other than this?' The answer to her question is 'quite honestly, barely any". Her campaign of 'Skolstrejk for Klimatet', translated it means "school-strike for climate" has gained momentum and woken people up, but was that her resonsibility in the first place? We all know the answer to that, and that proves that our ignorance is making the future more and more unfair for each child born, and if that’s your child, and if you eat meat, you truly do not what to offer the best planet to your children.

I have to address this quickly because so many people refer to it. If 'God' created the world, the bible via prophets and animals to eat, then god also created Science and Philosophy and Logic, which has now proven many facts about diet and disease, so how are we going to defend eating meat with words of the bible and ignore the Science, Philosophy and Logic that was also bred of God? You tell me what you come up with.

You tell yourself that it's just one meal, it's just a couple meals a day, or it's every meal and it's your choice and you can do whatever you want to your body. That is true because capitalism allows that, but if you want to grow and become better than you already are, you should really ask yourself a question that about 98% of people ignore - "Am I doing this whole food thing right?" And therefore, "Am I giving myself too many allowances? Do I have a realistic or horribly unrealistic view of my own life and my existence?" Yes, it goes deep, but is it too difficult to critically look at yourself? Think beyond yourself.

For those educated regarding Critical Theory and higher degrees of thought in school, you may ask yourself a lot more questions than that, but before you begin to answer them with regards to food, do not even think about answering them with regard to your experience if you have only tried eating one way, you need to go with science on this one and use yourself as an experiment - make changes, and gauge how you feel – cut the meat and dairy, align your thoughts and feelings with what is on your plate.

It was only a year ago Canada made their first food guide without Research from the companies providing the animal products. Is it just me or does it seem crazy to have ever used research from Beef producers about beef? Regarding the changes which nearly left meat out completely, I have my own conspiracy theories as to why meat was left in, but take a hint people, it was all but removed. Wake up and smell the chickpeas, ditch the animal products.

What do you think your children, grand-children, great-grand-children, etc.. will think of you? No you will not meet all that come to be because of you but they'll know if you were the first go ditch meat, and take control of your health. You have the power to choose, you have the agency to act autonomously and to think for yourself. What legend do you want to leave behind? What are they going to say about you if you refuse to change?

My mother has smoked my entire life, always telling me that she'll quit, it's hard I know, but after 35 years, I've given up trying to change people, instead I refuse to keep secret for her, her habits that are shortening her life day in and day out. Telling her that if she dies of anything related to her smoking or eating habits, that I will use her as an example to teach my nieces about cause and effect. Call me brutally honest, call me anything you want, but before all, call me a realist.

Did you know that even in abusive relationships, the abused will at times defend the abuser? Did you know that happens a lot more than you realize? Maybe now you can realize that you're being abused by the meat-producers and now you're defending them by defending your 'right' to eat meat?

I think we are ready to remove the veil, but to do so you'll have to do the research yourself and not just take my word for it. Everything I spout nowadays, is the opposite of what I knew myself to be in 2014. The fact that I have been through university with a degree in Human kinetics, spending time with nutrition and other Biomedical sciences - nothing woke me up better than meeting a Vegan who cared enough to hold my hand and walk me through what big businesses never wanted me to find out. That what we eat is killing us, the planet, and the future. Now, science has shown us that with a vegan diet, rich of fruits, vegetables, grains, legumes, nuts and seeds, we can reverse the number top killers (heart disease and many cancers) of people caused by ingesting animal products or at least optimize your chance at fighting off or living with a disease. Eating animal products is never part of the solution, it’s the problem.

Take control of your life and inform yourself because only you can live your life.

#climateemergency #drought #vegan #diet #lifestyle #sustainability #sustainable #climate catastrophe #climate activism #riversilence #veganlife #veganporn #food #foodblog

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roman-writing · 5 years ago

Text

two, across (1/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Lysithea von Ordelia

Rating: T

Wordcount: 6,428

Summary: Lysithea can barely keep afloat under the workload of giving undergrad lectures and finishing off her PhD thesis. Meanwhile Dr. Hilda V. Goneril is somehow both the laziest person as well as the most successful young professor she has ever known. It's absolutely aggravating.

Read it here on AO3 or read it below the cut

“Homes are a crossword puzzle I can’t solve.”

-Maria Tsvetaeva “Moscow in the Plague Year” (trans. Christopher Whyte)

Lysithea stares down at the newspaper. The world is falling apart, political crises cropping up everywhere, precarious markets teetering on the edge of another GFC, and worst of all: someone else has already done the crossword.

Even worse still, whoever has done the crossword puzzle has done so absolutely flawlessly. In pen. With no mistakes. She picks up the newspaper, incredulous, to inspect the crossword more closely, but sure enough -- perfectly executed in ballpoint.

Her hand clenches into a fist, crumpling the thin pages. Breathing deeply, Lysithea smooths the page out again. In her other hand she holds a travel mug filled with a mocha and extra marshmallows. It's 6:46am and the offices of the biosciences department are empty but for her. Or at least she had assumed that the offices of the biosciences department were empty, but clearly that is not the case. Not unless someone waltzed in and stole the free department newspaper before 6am, which was ludicrous.

Nobody but her bothered to come in this early. Who could have possibly ruined her routine? It's the beginning of the first term of her last year of her PhD thesis, and if there's one thing Lysithea hates more than the thought of having to actually submit her thesis, it's a break in routine.

With a huff, Lysithea takes a sip of her coffee, then starts on a hunt through the offices in search of the culprit. Most of the offices are dark, their doors locked. Her own office is little more than a dingy storage closet that was converted into spare workspace for the youngest of the departmental doctoral students. But when the university allowed her to teach undergraduate courses, they had to clear out an office as well. It came with the territory.

Directly across from her own door is an office that she rarely saw open throughout all two of her years at Garreg Mach University. The nameplate on the door sports the letters: DR. HILDA V. GONERIL. Lysithea's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The door to Hilda’s office is open a sliver, showing a slit of light from within. Stomping forward, wielding her newspaper and coffee like relics in some holy war, Lysithea barges in without knocking.

Hilda is not -- as Lysithea had expected -- working. The back of her office chair has been loosened so that it leans precariously back, and one of Hilda's bare feet is propped atop the desk. She is hunched over her foot, wielding a tiny paintbrush and bottle of pink nailpolish that matches the colour of her hair.

Hilda only glances up in bored disinterest from where she’s painting her toenails, before returning her attention to her present task. “Oh, hey! Lysithea, right? What’s up!”

Instead of answer, Lysithea holds up the newspaper as though it’s a piece of labelled evidence in a murder case. “Did you do this?”

“Sure did. Hey, do you want me to paint your nails, too? Pink would look great with your complexion.”

“What? No.” Lysithea scrunches up her nose. “Why are you even here this early? I’ve never seen you here before noon.”

In truth, Lysithea has rarely seen her around the office at all. They had been introduced a year ago, when Hilda had been hired as the department’s newest Associate Professor, but as far as Lysithea could tell, the woman might as well have worked on another campus. She could count on one hand the number of times they had exchanged words, none of them particularly memorable.

Hilda rolls her eyes. “Ugh! I know, right? I drew the short straw, and got the 7am undergrad OChem courses this term. Can you believe it? Being the most junior professor in a department is the worst.” She puts the finishing touches on her foot, and drawls, “Buuut it does mean I get to leave early most days. Tit for tat.”

Hilda puffs up her cheeks and blows on the wet nailpolish.

Angry words gather on the tip of Lysithea's tongue. She has to take a deep breath to quell them. "Dr. Goneril -" she begins.

Hilda makes a face. "Ew. What are you? My student? Don't call me that."

Lysithea grits her teeth. "Hilda," she begins again, trying to sweeten her words as much as she possibly can. "I would really appreciate it if you didn't do the crossword in the staff newspaper. Could you maybe get a different paper on your way to work, if you're going to be coming in so early every day this term?"

At that, Hilda lets out a snort of amusement. She puts her foot down on the ground, spreading her legs out so that she's sprawled in her seat. The toes of both feet, Lysithea notices, are perfectly manicured and painted. She must have been here for a while now, if she managed to get the crossword out and do her nails before a lecture.

"No way, short stack. You know how boring it is here without anyone else around? I need to do something with my hands, or I go, like, crazy." Even as Hilda says it, her fingers are fiddling with the armrests of her office chair, drumming a syncopated rhythm.

Lysithea frowns, remembers she is trying to be charming -- which she has never been very good at, to be perfectly honest -- and puts on a plasticky smile. "Well, maybe we can work out some sort of deal."

Hilda remains slouched in her seat. "Like what?"

"We’ll trade. You leave me the crossword on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I leave you the crossword on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and the weekends. How about that?"

"Hmm." Hilda taps her ankles together, like a child who can't keep herself still for longer than two seconds. Then she announces gleefully, "Nope!"

"Great! We can -" Lysithea blinks. "Wait. What?"

"No deal!" Hilda says, as cheerfully as before. Her cellphone rings on her desk, and a calendar notification pops up on the screen. "Shit! I'm late."

Rather than stand up immediately and bolt for the door however, Hilda leans her head back and sighs to the ceiling.

Lysithea stares at her, then at the phone, which is still chirping away. "Aren't you going to go to class?"

"With wet nail polish? Are you kidding?" Hilda waves her hand in the vague direction of the exit, where the elevators are around the corner. "The little goblins can wait."

"It's the earliest class! You'll be lucky if half of them show up, let alone wait five minutes before bailing."

Hilda yawns. "Good. Maybe then I can just go home and get some more sleep."

"At least turn off your phone," Lysithea snaps. The mechanical chirping is really starting to grate on her nerves. It's way too early for this.

"You know, you're pretty bossy for a PhD student." There is no malice in her tone, and even as she says it, Hilda reaches over and presses a button on her phone so that the alarm stops.

"So I've been told." Lysithea shifts the newspaper so that it rests in the crook of her elbow. When Hilda doesn't look the least bit concerned that Lysithea is still standing in her office, Lysithea sighs, "Listen. I need this, alright?"

Hilda shoots her an incredulous glance. She has begun to swing her chair around so that she slowly twirls in place, her legs outstretched so as not to hit any of the clutter that’s scattered everywhere. Somehow through the full arc she manages to maintain eye contact the whole way. "You need...a crossword puzzle?"

"It's -" Lysithea can feel her cheeks burn. "It's just a part of my routine! I don't like having my routine interrupted! It ruins my whole day."

Hilda continues to twirl in her office chair. Her long pink hair, tied back in twin tails, dangles over the back of the chair, stirring lightly as she turns. Lysithea secretly wonders how on earth someone manages to pull off that hairstyle without appearing completely juvenile. If she wore her hair that way herself, she would look like she was fifteen, but when Hilda does it, she just seems like a free-spirited adult.

Hilda makes a noise between a sigh and blowing a raspberry. Then, all of a sudden, she stops her chair. She bends over double and tests her toenails, deems them suitably dry, and pulls on her socks and shoes -- a pair of black boots that reach just past her ankle. When she stands abruptly, Lysithea has to resist the urge to take a step back.

She had forgotten that Hilda was so tall and broad-shouldered; Hilda dressed in such a way to make her seem as delicate as possible, but there was no mistaking the flex of muscle beneath her clothes. Most people were tall when standing next to Lysithea, but Hilda had a presence that seemed to extend beyond her, making her appear larger than she actually was.

Hilda picks up her phone and begins tapping away at the screen to unlock it. Then, she sticks the phone in her bag -- black and trendy, to match the rest of what she wore -- and slings the bag over her shoulder.

"I really gotta go now. So..." Hilda walks towards Lysithea, making a shooing motion as if trying to herd a cat. "Chop chop! Let's go! Out of my office!"

"Hang on -! Hey! Just -! Can't we talk about this?"

Lysithea is shuffled out the door, and Hilda flicks the light off, shutting her office behind them and locking it.

"We did talk." Hilda tosses her keys into her bag, where they clank against her phone and whatever other objects are kept all in a jumble in there. "And I liked it! Surprisingly. We should definitely do it again! You’re here tomorrow, yeah?"

“What do you mean ‘surprisingly’?” Lysithea says, indignant.

But Hilda only pats her on the shoulder and strides off towards the elevators. For a moment, Lysithea stares after her, then gives chase. She catches up when Hilda rounds the corner.

"Just leave me the crossword," she says as Hilda is pressing the button to call the elevator. "You can do the sudoku!"

Hilda wrinkles her nose as though she had been offered garbage from behind the cafeteria. "Boring!" she says in a singsong voice.

The light for the elevator flickers through the various levels to reach theirs on the fifth floor. When the elevator doors slide open, and Hilda steps forward, Lysithea panics and says the only thing she can think of: “Please.”

At that, Hilda pauses. Her hand lingers against one of the doors, keeping the elevator open. Her fingernails are painted the same colour as her toes, the same colour as her hair, and her knuckles sparkle with various gold and coral rings.

She turns around, and holds out her hand. “Give me your coffee.”

“My -?” Lysithea looks from Hilda, to her mocha, then back to Hilda again. “You want my coffee?”

Hilda makes a grabby motion with her hand. “Time’s a-ticking. Bring me a coffee every morning, and I’ll let you do the crossword. Deal or no deal?”

To accentuate her point, she lets the elevator doors begin to shut, enclosing her within. Quick as a flash, Lysithea thrusts her hand forward, so that the elevator doors bounce back against her wrist. She holds out the travel mug -- all whites and pastel purples and cartoon kittens -- and announces, “Deal! It’s a deal!”

With a beaming smile, Hilda takes the mug. Their fingers brush. Hilda’s skin is warm, but calloused. When Hilda takes a sip, her face scrunches up in disgust. “Ugh. Way too sweet, even for me. Make it a cappuccino next time. Double-shot.”

“You annoying -!” Lysithea starts to swear, but the elevator doors are sliding shut, and Hilda is waggling her fingers in a little wave of goodbye. “- asshole!”

The rest of the day goes poorly. Lysithea is convinced it is all because the beginning of her routine was disrupted, and that it only spells misfortune for the rest of the term. It's completely nonsensical, but she can't shake the feeling nonetheless. To top it all off, she only manages to write a hundred words of her thesis, which sets her a hundred words behind her carefully laid plans for the year. Tomorrow, she'll have to write an extra hundred to compensate. Every word feels like pulling teeth.

Instead of reading articles and writing, as she should be doing, she finds herself clicking through the university faculty website. She has bought herself a hot chocolate from the groundfloor cafe, just to make herself feel better about life in general, and takes a sip as she clicks on the link to 'DR. HILDA V. GONERIL.'

She nearly chokes on the hot chocolate, when the page loads.

With only a year and a half as a professor after completing her PhD in molecular biophysics at an outstandingly good overseas university, Dr. Goneril had already published eight articles in her academic career. Lysithea reads through the bibliography list, gobsmacked. It certainly explains why the university wanted her on their staff so badly; any university would salivate over a promising young professor with a matrix like that.

Four articles a year? Plus teaching two classes a term? That's impossible. There's no way a woman that lazy could have achieved that. Not unless the laziness was an act, and she never slept. Ever.

Four academic articles a year. And here Lysithea sits, struggling to type out two hundred words on an open word document.

Furiously clicking out of Hilda’s profile, Lysithea opens another tab to the university library database and begins searching for more articles to read for her own research.

"Where's my mug?" Lysithea asks the next morning.

It's 6:17am, and Hilda is cradling the takeaway cup Lysithea had ordered at the cafe down the street, because the cafe on the groundfloor doesn't open until 7am. Hilda yawns. "I left it at home."

"Well, bring it tomorrow. I want it back." Lysithea snatches up the newspaper from where it had been deposited on the floor earlier that morning.

"Sure. Whatever," is Hilda's non committal answer.

Lysithea doesn't believe for a moment that Hilda ever intends to give the mug back, but she'll be damned if she lets it go without a fight. Edelgard had given her that cup as a gift last year, which meant that it was no doubt expensive as anything.

Starting off down the hallway to her office, Lysithea can already feel the spring in her step at the thought of everything returning to normal. She has a mocha in hand -- extra marshmallows, as usual -- and a fresh newspaper in the other. It's incidental that Hilda is trailing after her; their offices are directly opposite one another, after all.

She doesn't pay it much heed as she unlocks her door, and steps inside. A flick of the lights. Her bag tossed onto the spare chair, where visiting undergrad students usually sit. And Lysithea drops into her seat, already flipping to the page with the crossword. She folds up the newspaper just the way she likes it, so that the pages have enough grit to not let her feel the scratch of the table beneath her pen, and feels a wave of relief wash over her. She sips at her coffee with one hand, and holds a pen in the other.

The first few clues come easily. Lysithea scrawls in three of the answers that immediately pop out to her, and it doesn’t register right away that she has not heard Hilda opening her own office door. Lysithea is tapping the tip of her ballpoint pen against the margins of the newspaper. She scowls down at the next clue, and chews her lower lip.

A shadow falls over the table from someone approaching behind her, and a hand reaches over her shoulder to point at the crossword with one perfectly manicured pink nail. "OBDURATE."

With a start, Lysithea nearly spills her mocha. Hilda is standing behind her, takeaway coffee cup in hand. She is close enough that her arm brushes against Lysithea's shoulder. Lysithea can feel the warmth of skin through her cardigan.

Scowling, Lysithea leans away in her seat to aim a glare at Hilda. "Excuse me?"

"Five down. The answer is 'OBDURATE.'" Rather than get the hint and move away, Hilda sets down her cup on the table so she can use her other hand to grasp the back of Lysithea's chair and lean against it while she studies the newspaper.

"Thanks," Lysithea grumbles. She adds the answer, and is annoyed when it fits perfectly.

Hilda points to six down. "Ohh! 'Ermine in summer' is 'STOAT'. And seven down is 'TRIPLETHREAT'."

A muscle in Lysithea's cheek jumps in irritation. She writes the words, then grumbles, “This was not a part of the deal.”

“The deal was: I would let you do the crossword. I never said that I wouldn’t do the crossword with you. Duh!”

Lysithea tosses down the pen atop the newspaper. “That completely defeats the purpose!”

“CHUTZPAH!” Hilda announces, and grabs the pen from the desk to begin writing it into the boxes.

“Hey!”

Lysithea has to wrestle the pen from Hilda’s grasp, but not before Hilda manages to write in another answer. Even then, it galls her to know that Hilda let her have the pen back, and could have easily kept it for herself.

Lysithea brandishes the pen under Hilda’s nose like a sword. “Quit it! Leave some for me!”

“You know, you could just get one of those free apps that has, like, a squillion crosswords, right?”

Glowering, Lysithea turns back to the newspaper. “I like this one.”

Hilda drops the matter, but only because she is now pointing to another clue with the answer on her lips. Lysithea smacks Hilda’s finger with the pen.

"Geesh. Okay! Okay!" Hilda grabs her cup, but when she straightens she says quickly, "And nine down is 'ABLOOM' okay bye!!"

Lysithea crumples up a spare piece of paper on the desk and lobs it after her, purely out of spite.

Lysithea doesn’t know exactly when it happens, only that it does. Suddenly, horribly, Hilda is part of the routine.

The realisation dawns on Lysithea during the third week. Every morning Hilda is waiting for her by the elevators on the ground floor. Her smile is brighter than the dawn creeping through the windows. She takes the coffee Lysithea hands her, and immediately launches into loud and colourful conversation about her previous evening, about her students, about her cute neighbor and her cute neighbor’s cat, while Lysithea nods -- groggy, and still half asleep herself -- and mumbles appropriate responses.

They ride the elevator together. They do the crossword in Lysithea’s office, because even though Hilda’s office is bigger it’s always cluttered to the point that Lysithea can barely stand to be in there for longer than a few minutes at a time. The spare seat in Lysithea’s office has become Hilda’s designated seat, which she hauls over to the desk so they can sit, side-by side. Their elbows press together. They drink their coffee, and bicker over crossword clues, and the fact that Hilda has forgotten -- again! -- to bring back Lysithea’s mug.

Lysithea has even taken to complaining about Hilda in her texts to Edelgard. Her childhood friend lives two timezones away however, and can only do so much via text when she's busy inheriting her family's multi-million dollar mega-corporation.

The fact remains that on the Thursday of the third week, Lysithea arrives at the elevators on the ground floor at her usual 6:14am, and is surprised to feel utter disappointment that Hilda is not there.

She peers around the corner for any sign of her. She waits. She taps her foot on the ground, and checks her wristwatch, which means she nearly spills Hilda’s cappuccino when turning her wrist over. Finally, at 6:32 she gives up and rides the elevator alone. She watches the floors tick away in bright numbers over the doors, and even though she is rising it feels like her gut is falling.

She places Hilda's coffee cup on the desk, and does the crossword by herself. She should feel relieved. This is what she wanted. The newspaper all to herself. Nobody bothering her. No annoying chatter in her ear. Nobody taking away the satisfaction of figuring out the clues for herself.

Instead, she keeps shooting glances at the coffee cup as if it might suddenly turn into a rambunctious conversationalist and fill the gap.

Eventually, with the crossword puzzle only three-quarters of the way finished, other faculty members start to stream into the offices. Lysithea gives up and throws Hilda's coffee into the rubbish bin; it has gone cold. She folds the newspaper back to its original state -- painstakingly ensuring that each crease is exactly as it should be -- and places it on a corner of her desk. She pulls her laptop towards her, and opens up her latest thesis draft document with a beleaguered groan.

For the first time in three weeks, she doesn't get the full two hundred daily word goal that she set for herself. It irritates her to no end.

She considers going to have a chat with her counsellor, Mercedes, but decides to just text Edelgard instead. She gets back a reply almost immediately, reminding her to eat something that day, which she has predictably forgotten to do. In response, Lysithea types back a message telling El to get some sleep. The phone goes quiet for a minute, then another text pings back from Edelgard with a series of 'zzz's that makes Lysithea roll her eyes.

A knock at the door behind her, and Lysithea whirls around in her seat. It's not Hilda. Her stomach twists unpleasantly at the realisation.

Lysithea puts her phone down. "Hi, Professor Hanneman. Do you need something?"

Hanneman hovers politely in her doorway until she greets him, at which point he pushes the door fully open and steps inside. "Good afternoon, Lysithea." He nods towards the newspaper. "Are you finished with that?"

She isn't. The crossword is nowhere near finished. Lysithea's mouth slants to one side, but she sighs and hands the newspaper over regardless. "Here. It's all yours."

He takes it with a gentle smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes behind his round spectacles. "Thank you."

"You haven't heard anything from Tomas, have you?" Lysithea asks. "It's just -- I sent him the last draft of my thesis a month ago, and he still hasn't gotten back to me.”

At that, he grimaces in sympathy. "I'm sorry, but no. I haven't heard anything. You know how busy he is.”

Crestfallen, Lysithea mumbles, “Yeah.”

“I’ll follow up with him again,” Hanneman assures her, but they both know there’s not much he can do. Tomas is her main thesis supervisor, while Hanneman was only an adjutant brought into the process earlier last year. At the beginning of this whole thesis ordeal, she had thought Tomas would be a great supervisor -- he shared her Alma Mater, and other family connections -- but so far he had been nothing but chilly and unhelpful throughout the process.

“Thanks. I would appreciate if you did.”

He nods. He’s about to leave, when she blinks. “Hanneman?”

“Hmm?” He turns back in the doorway to face her.

Tugging at her lower lip with her teeth, Lysithea asks, “You don’t happen to have Dr. Goneril’s cellphone number, do you?”

After her own lecture later that afternoon, Lysithea stands in her empty classroom and worries her lower lip between her teeth. Her phone is in her hands. A contact is open on the screen with the name 'HILDA' beside the call button.

Lysithea takes a deep breath. She taps the icon, then raises the phone to her ear. It rings for a long enough time, that she is led to believe Hilda won't pick up, when the dial tone stops.

There's a rustling sound on the other line, followed by a raspy, "Hello?"

"Hi!" Lysithea says. "It's me."

A pause.

"Who?"

"Lysithea."

More rustling. The distinct noise of the phone being dropped, and then muted swearing, as Hilda fumbles for it.

"Oh. Yeah. Hey," Hilda says when she's picked up the phone again. She doesn’t sound thrilled, but she doesn’t sound mad either. "What's up?"

"Nothing! I just -" Lysithea has to put her free hand down when she realises she has lifted it to her mouth so she can chew on her fingernails. “I was just wondering if everything was alright. You weren’t here today, but if you’re just playing hooky, then -”

She is interrupted by a series of coughing. Lysithea holds the phone away from her ear until Hilda is finished.

“I mean -” Hilda rasps, “Normally you would be totally on the money, but not this time.”

For some inexplicable reason, that makes Lysithea feel unfathomably guilty, even though she knows that her initial assumption was on the mark.

“Do you - Do you need me to get you anything?” Lysithea can’t believe that those words just came out of her mouth, but it’s too late to take them back now.

Silence. Then -

“Schweppes Sparkling Lemonade.”

Lysithea’s brows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“I said: Schweppes Sparkling Lemonade. I’ll text you my address.”

And then Hilda hangs up. True to her word, a text appears almost instantaneously on the screen while Lysithea is still blinking down at her phone in befuddlement. It’s only at that moment that Lysithea remembers she doesn’t own a car, and will need to take public transportation to get out to -- oh, wait, that’s not that far. She could walk, if she had the stamina for it.

Twenty minutes later, Lysithea is standing outside a two-story, brick-faced apartment complex that looks like it had been built thirty years ago and never renovated. So, basically, like any poor grad student accommodation on the planet. She approaches a door with the chipped brass-plated number ‘2-A.’

In one hand she holds a grocery bag, and in the other she triple-checks her phone to make sure this is the right place. Stuffing her phone into her pocket, Lysithea knocks.

Hilda answers the door draped in a blanket like a maudlin empress surveying her fallen nation. Her normally immaculate appearance has been tossed out with the bathwater. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair is a mess. The apartment beyond is cast all in shadow. The curtains are drawn, and Lysithea can't make out anything beyond Hilda except clutter and darkness.

“Hey,” Hilda croaks, trying to add a bit of her usual sing-song emphasis but instead dissolving into a fit of coughing.

Lysithea thinks of a dozen lies and platitudes she should say, but what comes out is: “You look terrible.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Hilda chuckles, and leans in the doorway. “Do you got the goods, dealer?”

Lysithea holds up the grocery bag filled with two large plastic bottles of sparkling lemonade. “Only the finest.”

“You’re a saint,” Hilda mumbles as she takes the grocery bag and peers inside. “I could seriously kiss you right now.”

At that, Lysithea takes a step back. “No, thank you. Keep your nasty virus to yourself.”

“Guess that means you don’t want to come in, then.”

Lysithea is surprised when she hears herself say, “Next time.”

Even Hilda looks a bit shocked, though it’s difficult to tell. Normally she’s more expressive than this. She mustn’t have the energy to emote, when sick.

Still, she gamely cracks a smile, and waves Lysithea away. “Next time, then. Go on, now. Shoo. Before you get my nasty virus.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Lysithea asks as she steps away.

“I’ll be lecturing in the morning, and then coming back to bed,” Hilda says, though she sounds like she should be organising her casket arrangements rather than teach right now.

“Oh,” Lysithea says. She tries not to let the disappointment show, and she thinks she does a decent job of hiding that sort of thing. At least, she should be, given her history.

“But you can buy me a hot drink before I go home.” Hilda offers that like it’s some sort of prize to be won.

Lysithea frowns. “Is my offering of soda inadequate for Her Highness?”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Hilda winks and shuts the door.

Lysithea brings the newspaper, but not the coffee. It’s 7:04am, and the students of Organic Chemistry II have let themselves into the lecture theatre six minutes ago. Lysithea sits in the back corner, trying to get as much distance as possible between herself and any undergrads who might mistake her for one of their flock. None of them seem to pay her any mind. It’s too early for anything but using their bags as pillows and trying to sneak in an extra few minutes of sleep before their professor arrives.

Exactly nine minutes after the class was meant to start, the double doors to the lecture theatre swing open, and Hilda walks inside. Her heeled boots clack with every step, announcing her presence.

"Sorry I'm late." Hilda drops into the chair at the head of the classroom beside the podium. "I didn't want to come."

She is wearing enormous heart-shaped sunglasses that shield her eyes from view. A dark-washed scarf is wrapped around her neck and shoulders like a shawl, and the total effect makes her look like a celebrity trying to escape the paparazzi. She props her feet atop the table, and waves to the classroom at large without actually looking at anyone. “Pop quiz.”

The class gives out a collective groan of despair.

Hilda ignores them. She pulls out her cellphone. For a brief moment, Lysithea thinks that Hilda is just going text through the entire lecture, but then the projector screen descends from the ceiling behind her, and the projector itself flickers to life.

Hilda gives her phone a few idle taps, and a slideshow quiz appears on the screen. “You have twenty minutes.” She tosses her phone to the table. “Go.”

The students are scrambling for spare paper from their notebooks. Some of them exchange blank pages in a flurry of movement, before they are all hunched over their desks, silent but for the scratch of pens against paper.

Lysithea reads the list of questions on the screen. They are hard, but not impossible. In their shoes, Lysithea would have aced the quiz. Then again, Lysithea had been a model student that two universities had fought over for the grant money that came tethered to her thesis project. It takes these students the full twenty minutes, and even then a few of them are scrambling for answers and scratching their heads.

Hilda’s phone alarm chirps, and all of the students put their pens down like well-trained Pavlovian subjects. On the other hand, Hilda does not move at all. Her arms are crossed, and most of her face is either hidden by scarf or sunglasses.

She is, Lysithea realises, fast asleep.

“Professor Goneril?” one of the students in the front row hazards. Lysithea recognises the student from her own class, a quiet girl by the name of Flayn, related to Seteth, the university’s chaplain.

At the sound of her title, Hilda’s head jerks. She lowers her feet to the ground, and sits upright. She pushes her sunglasses partially up her face so that she can rub at her eyes with the heel of her palm. From here, Lysithea can see that while Hilda looks far better than their last encounter at her apartment, she still looks like death warmed over.

Hilda cranes her neck to peer at the clock on the wall, and says, “Turn ‘em in. And if you cheated, I’ll know.”

All of the students exchange glances, then stand to approach her table and deposit their sheets of paper at her feet.

One of the students lowers his head to whisper to his neighbor. “Do you think she has the place bugged?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” his friend replies under his breath.

Lysithea rolls her eyes, and says, “No. It’s because I’m here, and I would tell her.”

The two nearly jump out of their skin. One of them squints at her. “Aren’t you a student from Mathematical Methods for Physical Sciences?”

Lysithea gives him her very best glower. “I’m the professor of that course.”

Both their eyes widen, and they shuffle away towards the front of the classroom.

The lecture as a whole is supposed to last two hours. Hilda only takes an hour and a half, and lets everyone go early. Throughout the entire thing, Lysithea chips away at the crossword to very little effect, and grinds her teeth at the back of the class.

She herself has to prepare pages and pages of carefully labelled and researched notes every week for her own lectures, and even then she always feels like she is scrambling to use up her total time. If she lets the students out five minutes early, it’s like she’s failed in her duty. Hilda on the other hand breezes through the course content like she wrote the fucking book.

And she definitely didn’t write the book. Lysithea checked.

To add insult to injury, Hilda’s slides have an unparalleled clarity that make Lysithea green with envy. The students nod their heads, and type up notes on their laptops. When they raise their hands with questions, Hilda answers breezily and efficiently from her seat despite her lingering cold, checking her fingernails and sometimes even tapping her phone to another pre-prepared slide as though she had expected just that question to pop up during the lecture.

Whenever Lysithea got a question from her students, she would need to work off the spike of adrenaline by drawing out the answer too small on the whiteboard.

By the end, Lysithea is fuming. She hasn’t finished the crossword, and she is feeling thoroughly outclassed.

It’s 8:31, and the students are packing up their bags to leave. Some of them are brave enough to approach Hilda like their approaching a lazy queen sprawled upon her sumptuous plastic throne. Flayn is among them. Lysithea hovers near the exit, clutching her newspaper, while Hilda holds court, waiting. Flayn is the last student to leave, waving at Lysithea, who returns the gesture with a forced grimace.

Hilda is slinging her designer black bag over her shoulder as she walks towards Lysithea. “Hi! Miss me much?”

Hilda smiles at her, and all of those ugly feelings melt away like a snowbank in late spring.

“As if,” Lysithea says, already turning to walk towards the nearby cafe down the hall and to the right.

She orders their usual, but Hilda interrupts to get a lemon honey and ginger tea for herself instead. They sit near the windows, and Lysithea tosses down the newspaper with a scowl.

Hilda sips at her tea. “Someone’s feeling grumpy this morning. What’s wrong? Couldn’t finish the crossword without me?”

“No! I mean -- that’s besides the point!” Lysithea lifts her chin and says, indignant, “One of your students mistook me for an undergrad.”

Rather than laugh, Hilda sticks out her tongue as though at a bad taste. “If that happened to me, I would literally die.”

Lysithea nods. This is the reaction she had been expecting at so grave a transgression.

And then, Hilda asks the worst possible question. “How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-four.”

Hilda splutters, and has to put down her tea in order to cough into the crook of her elbow. Lysithea can feel her face heating up while Hilda collects herself.

"Oh my god." Hilda’s face is painted with horror, "Twenty-four? When did you start undergrad? As a foetus?"

Lysithea straightens in her seat, and answers primly, "I was sixteen, thank you very much."

"Twenty-four." Hilda repeats with a shudder. "No wonder. I have students that age. Gross."

Lysithea bristles. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I didn’t mean you. I just had an intrusive thought about dating a student, and had the instinctive urge to dry-heave." Hilda flutters her hand at the base of her throat as if she’s going to be sick.

"I’m not one of your students!"

"Thank god," Hilda mutters.

"I may not have my PhD yet, but we are still colleagues! And I'll have you know that I am very dateable!"

At that, Hilda’s eyebrows launch themselves over the rims of her sunglasses. "I never thought you weren't."

"Well - good!” Lysithea crosses her arms with a huff, and leans back in her chair. “Because I am! I’m great at -” she struggles for what exactly to say, but is too obstinate to give up, and ends up with, “- being available! For dating!”

Hilda is biting her lower lip as if she’s desperately trying not to laugh. Lysithea wishes she could see her eyes; it would be much easier to tell what kind of expression Hilda was wearing if she could see her eyes. It certainly doesn’t help that her own face is aflame; she just knows that her pale complexion will have gone ruddy with embarrassment.

“Glad to hear it,” Hilda drawls, before tilting her head back to drain what remains of her tea. Meanwhile Lysithea clears her throat, and takes an extra large gulp of her hot chocolate.

Dropping her now empty takeaway cup onto the table, Hilda pushes her chair back. “Thanks for the tea. I’m off to bed to show this virus who’s boss.”

“Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

Lysithea can still feel the flush in her cheeks. It doesn’t get any better when Hilda lowers her sunglasses just enough to peer over them at Lysithea and flash her a smile.

“See you Monday,” Hilda says, and it’s not a question. She pushes her sunglasses back into place, and swings her bag over her shoulder.

Then, she pauses. She reaches out, and Lysithea leans back slightly in her seat, but not before Hilda has tapped the tip of her nose.

“You’ve got cocoa on your nose.” Hilda shows Lysithea her finger, which does indeed have a smidge of cocoa powder from the hot chocolate. With a smile, Hilda turns and strides away with far more flounce in her step than a sick woman should be able to achieve.

Lysithea sits, frozen in place. Then, realising she is staring, she swipes furiously at her face for any residual cocoa powder. When she’s finished, Hilda is long gone.

#lysithea von ordelia #hilda valentine goneril #lysithea/hilda #fire emblem three houses #fe:3h #roman writes #this is one of the most self-indulgent things I've written this year and that's saying A LOT

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dead-inside-mcgee · 5 years ago

Text

Beyond that door- Chapter 1

Twisted Justice

@griffin-tortures-schneep

There’s a prologue to this story, though it’s not necessary to read.

Summary: Chase sighed. “You are really stupid if you think I don’t wanna help you take down a huge conspiracy like this.”

Word count: 2128

Every city has secrets. If you look in the right place, at the right time, on the right day, you will find a pair of doors that look like they lead to a cellar or some place like that.

If you tap the right code on the doors, they will open, reliveling a staircase. That is where you’ll find Marvin. Local witch, cryptid, and drug dealer according to the police.

While on a technical since, the things he sold were drugs, he didn’t sell magic crack or meth like some people thought.

He sold potions. Stuff that can make you fly or read people's thoughts, stuff that could make your skin turn blue and make your hair to fall out, and things that could cloak someones inhuman parts.

Marvin was staring towards the stairs, fidgeting and looking nervous. Like he was expecting someone.

He relaxed once he saw Chase, looking slightly annoyed. Only slightly, which Chase saw as progress.

The two have been friends for a while now. But ever since Marin went underground, literally and figuratively, Marvin has felt… distant. Every time Chase asks if something is up Marvin just brushes it off.

Even if he says he’s fine, Chase has made it a regular thing to come by and say hello. But today wasn’t a regular visit, Chase needed something.

“Are you sure about this,” Marvin asked, starting to brew up what Chase wanted. “If you were caught you could go to jail for a very long time.”

“At least jail would be better than living on the streets,” Chase replied.

When Chase was young he got into a car crash. He didn’t remember all the details, all he remembered was waking up in a hospital with a robotic eye and arm.

At first Chase thought it was cool, but he learned quickly that people don’t like anything that’s even slightly different. What he needed was a mask, something that would make him seem to normal to say an employer.

“Just making sure.” Marvin said, shifting his large witchy hat back so it didn’t fall into his face. “I just want to double check with you. You’re absolutely sure about this.”

“Since when are you one to turn down a customer.” He was glad to know he meant something to the witch, but now wasn’t the time to be sintamental.

“Alright, alright. Just sit over there and don’t touching anything.”

Chase did as told, staring at his reflection in his mechanical arm. His right eye was orange. Technically he could change its color, but that was one of the few things he kinda liked about being a Cyborg.

There was a loud creak coming from upstairs. Marvin gasped, dropping the book he was holding.

“You have to hide!”

“Why?”

“Hurry!” Marvin shoved Chase into a large, empty trunk.

Chase peeked out and was shocked to see JackieBoyMan, local superhero and huge stuck up.

He couldn’t help but scoff whenever he saw that over exaggerated smile on a billboard or on TV. Sure, thanks to him there’s a whole lot less crime, but there were also plenty of Supervillains that did a good job at making up for that.

In conclusion, this is the single last place Chase ever thought he’d see said superhero.

Marvin smiled, nervously fidgeting. Chase has never seen him like that.

“You have what I ordered?” Jackie asked, that cheesy smile replaced with a sneer.

“Of course!” Marvin ran over and pulled out a little box and handing to him. Chase wished he could see what was in it.

Jackie opened it, nodded, and left.

A few moments passed. Chase could hear the doors creaking shut and Marvin said he could come out.

“I'm sure you have questions.” He sounded disappointed in himself for some reason.

“Uh, yeah! What was that!?” Chase popped out of the trunk

“There’s a reason I haven’t been caught yet.” He glances at the cloudren, noticing it was smoking. “I think your brew is done. It’s on the house.”

***

It’s been a few weeks since that interaction and Chase hasn’t been able to find Marvin since. He wasn’t completely sure how the doors worked, but he felt like Marvin was avoiding him.

He wasn’t even sure if he’d done something wrong. Marvin didn’t even answer any of his questions about Jackie and what he was doing there, he just kicked him out after giving him the potion.

The potion worked. At least Chase was able to get a pretty good job, though he’s had to stop himself from tearing down those Anti-Cyborg and other anti-nonhuman posters.

He tried not to think too much about Marvin and Jackie and all the other terrible things, but there was one terrible thing he couldn’t escape, politics.

The election for a new mayor was soon and so everywhere he went there was bright, flashy, propaganda.

There was one candidate that Chase actually liked. And that was Jameson Jackson. While Chase didn’t agree with all of his views, he was the lesser of the twelve or so evils.

There was something very odd about hat guy though. He always wore black and white and he had ghostly pale skin, making him look like he came straight out of and old black-and-white film. It made it kind of disorienting to see him in person when it came to how bright and colorful everything else in the city was.

Still he was the only one with half decent morals so Chase was inclined to support him.

While zoning out, Chase found himself in the alleyway where Marvin’s hideout usually was. Now was around when the entrance would show up, but it wasn’t there.

He sighed. Turning around to head home, but something wooshed overhead.

He ducked behind the dumpster, peeking out to see Jackie strutting down the alleyway.

“Have you just been waiting here for me?” Jackie asks.

Marvin was standing there, holding a box. He makes eye contact with Chase for a second, a slightly nods. Chase got the message and held still.

“Yes. I thought it'd be quicker to hand deliver them to you so you can get back to fighting crime and whatever else you do.” He holds out the box.

Jackie nods, peeks inside, and disappears.

A few tense moments pass.

“Okay you can come out now.”

Chase jumps up, wiping the grime off his clothes. “Is that just a weekly meeting?”

“Yes.” Marvin holds out his hand, revealing a small map of the town and a glowing green dot. “But today you’re going to help me find out why.”

“Works for me!” Chase said, fixing up his baseball cap.

***

The tracker lead the two to an old abandoned building.

“So what exactly were the potions you gave him?” Chase asked.

“Most were healing based. One was a sleep aid.” Marvin answered. “Quick, duck.”

They hid in the blushes to see Jackie fly out of the building.

“The dot is still moving.” Chase committed.

“Which means there’s someone else in there. Come on.”

They ran up the first three flights of stairs until they heard a loud creak of a door shutting and footsteps. They hide in a room, peeking out of a crack.

They see a man in black skinny jeans and a black shirt walking down the hall. They hold their breath for what feels like half an hour until they’re sure he’s gone.

“I know him.” Chase whispers.

“What?”

“I know him.” He says louder. “I work with him. His name is Anti, he’s a chill guy. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Marvin holds up the map, showing the dot is still here. “Wanna find out?”

The dot leads to a door. Chase tried to open it.

“Locked.”

He pulls off the tip of his finger, revealing a Phillips head screwdriver.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. “Useful.”

It only took a few moments for Chase to pick the lock. What they found inside was the last thing they ever would’ve guessed.

The room looked brand new. It was small, with carpeted floors and no windows. There was a bookshelf and a large bed.

Chase snooped around, finding a nightstand with a bottle of soda. He opened up the first drawer, finding a colorful box.

“That’d be it.” Marvin opened it, pulling out a small, glowing beetle and crushing it.

Chase pulled the covers off the bed and jumped back.

There was a man curled up in bed. He blinks his eyes open and slowly sittings up, giving the two a bleary eyed, blank look, before lying back down and snoring softly.

Chase let out a breath he’d been holding. “Is that…?” He didn’t need to finish.

Marvin nodded, pulling the blanket back over the man. “And he appears to be drugged, or highly intoxicated.”

“Well… What do we do?”

“Take him with us.”

“Take him with us!?” Chase shouted, before slapping his hand over his mouth. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“A little maybe.” Marvin waved his hand and the curled up man begin floating.

“We should just call the police, get out of here, and never mention this again.” Chase pulled out his phone, only to have it fly out of his hand and smash against a wall.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Marvin said before Chase could shout. “But I can’t have you call the police.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier? About this man clearly being drugged or intoxicated? And remember that other guy we saw walking down the hall?”

He nods, not liking where this is going.

“So I think this goes further than just us happening to stumble across a villains base. Especially since we got here by following our local superhero. So…” He trails off, a distant look in his eyes.

“So?”

“So I’m taking him with me. And getting to the bottom of whatever's happening here.” Marvin slowly starts making his way out of the building, the man floating behind him. “You don’t have to help me with this. Just promise you won’t say anything.”

Chase sighed. “You are really stupid if you think I don’t wanna help you take down a huge conspiracy like this.”

Marvin smiles, a soft, genuine smile. Something Chase has missed.

“Come on then.” The witch snaps his fingers and a pair of cellar doors appear.

“Wait, you can just summon the entrance wherever you want?”

***

Everyone who’s lived in Septic City for more than a week, or watched the news at least once, knew the name Henrik Von Schneeplestein.

From friendly doctor to mad scientist, attractive and tragic enough to star in many true crime TV shows, nightmares, a strange fantasies, this man had it all.

And now he was passed out, locked in a trunk while Marvin and Chase contemplated what to do.

They could turn him in and make a fortune. But then they’d have their names all over this, and they’d have to answer questions on how they found him and all of that, and someone would definitely come after them.

Even if they dropped him off somewhere and left an anonymous tip, it could still be tracked back to them. There was no win in this situation.

“Alright, let’s start simple. What do we know?” Marvin pulled out a whiteboard and marker.

“We know that JackieBoyMan has been giving healing and sleep potions to a guy named Anti, who I work with.”

Marvin writes that down. “And we know that a dangerous criminal is now locked in my trunk. What else.”

“Umm... Those sleeping potions! You pointed out Scneeplestein looked drugged, maybe the potions are being used on him.”

“Chase, you are a genius.” Marvin scribbled that down too. “Do we know anything else.”

He grinned softly at that, before frowning again. “I don’t think so.”

“Well it may not be much-”

“It isn’t much.”

“But at least it’s something.” Marvin glares at him. “Since when are you cynical?”

“I’m not trying to be.” He puts his hands up in defence. “I’m just nervous.”

“That’s… understandable.You still don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t want.” Marvin said, expression shifting.

“I do want!”

As if on cue, there was a thump and a soft yelp from the trunk.

The two men stare at each other.

“Should we let him out, maybe try and get some answers from him?” Chase suggests.

Marvin thinks for a moment. “It seems cruel to leave him in there, even if he is a criminal, or we think he’s a criminal.” He glowers, before tossing him some rope. “Tie him to a chair and we’ll figure out what we’re doing from there.”

“Will do boss.” Chase says in a silly, mobster voice.

Marvin rolls his eyes endearingly.

#my fic #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #chase brody #jackieboyman #marvin the magician #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #Dr Schneeplestein #henrik von schneeplestein #beyond that door

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blakelywintersfield · 5 years ago

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what do you think about cancel culture?

So it took me a while to answer this ask ‘cause I have... a lot to say about the subject.

There’s a lot to unpack when it comes to cancel culture. Its roots I like to believe are well intended -- a means to alert vulnerable groups about individuals that have a history of hurting them. But people have taken it... way too far.

I think it’s important to hold people accountable for their actions. There’s a lot of people who get away with horrible things, simply because they produce likeable material (makeup, music, movies, entertainment, etc.). People like Jeffree Star, PewDiePie, and Kat Von D have gotten away with their horrific treatment of others for years because people enjoy their content -- and two out of three of them still are wildly successful. What pushes people over the limit? Often times it’s a matter of what white people take major issue in. In Kat’s case, being anti-vax. Is being anti-vax bad? Hell yeah it is. As someone who’s immuno-compromised it literally could lead to an early, painful, slow death for me. And don’t get me wrong, I wanna die, but not from something that takes months of suffering. But people blatantly ignored her other awful acts -- such as her antisemitic actions (telling her former boss to “burn in hell jewbag” (sic) in the form of writing on a photo she left for him and drawing a Nazi symbol on it), complacency in victim blaming (her neo-Nazi husband blames his daughter’s rape on his daughter), denying and viciously responding to criticisms about her pedophilic makeup names (”Underage Red”, “Lolita”, second not in reference to the Japanese style but the book), and actively killing her pets (she killed one cat by leaving a house full of burning candles -- cat knocked down the candles, house went up in flames, cat died; she also was found forcing a vegan diet onto her cats -- I’m unsure if this has continued but I believe one of her cats died from it). All of these are huge reasons to “cancel” her -- to boycott her products. But people didn’t actively hate her until she came out as anti-vax, something that effects the majority. And that’s part of the issue with cancel culture: people pick and choose what’s acceptable depending on how badly it effects them personally.

Let’s focus on the other two mentioned: Jeffree and Felix. Jeffree has a very, very, veryyyyy long past of being a racist piece of shit. Not even lowkey ignorant white person racist (i.e. ”I didn’t know making fun of AAE and viewing dreadlocks as trashy was racist”). I’m talking straight up using the n-slur, with the hard -er too, towards a black woman. And this was recent, too. There just haven’t been any physical references beforehand, only personal accounts. But people have defended him -- and still defend him -- on these actions, because he apologized. But then he’ll do it again a month later. And there’ll be definitive proof of it. He’ll keep doing it over, and over, and over again. And people will continue to excuse him because he keeps apologizing! That’s not how apologies work! As someone who’s been abused, apologies mean nothing if you don’t actively work on fixing what you’re apologizing for!! My abusers would apologize and then do the exact same thing again so many times that I lost count long ago! And of course, Shane Dawson hasn’t helped because he’s head over heels for the guy, so he’s been using his popularity to try and clear his name -- which is ironic, considering he’s been under fire for being racist in the past too. The only difference is he actually cleaned his act up, until now, of course. Because now, instead of creating racist content himself, he’s defending a chronically racist shitbag. And people continue to defend him, because his shitty actions effects mainly black women -- a minority in comparison to the amount of white people in the states. Jeffree continues to be wildly successful because his problematic behavior only effects a minority, and that’s... not okay.

Felix has a very similar history to Jeffree, but with antisemitism, and in my opinion he’s even worse because he’ll apologize then do something nice like donate to a charity. And that would be fantastic if he wouldn’t continue to do antisemitic things like actively support white supremacists. People continue to defend him because he does charitable things, but I constantly remind people that abusive people aren’t abusive 24/7 -- that’s literally how they get away with abuse. They abuse, then take you out for a fancy date, kiss you gently and tell you how beautiful you are. Then they do something abusive. It’s an endless cycle. And that’s honestly what Felix does. Apologize, do something really fucking nice, and then repeat his shitty action. And he has other extremely influential people defend him -- it’s why I had to stop following JackSepticEye and Markiplier. They continuously vouched for him. They continuously defended him. And they did it in the form of saying “he’s a really good person, I know him personally, he’s really fucking sweet and nice”. That’s what people say about the partner of someone really close to me! Their friends defend them all the time, but they’ve never seen how they treat my friend. They don’t know about how they are in a relationship. And that’s all we ever hear about abusers. No one wants to accept that their longtime friend is shitty. But Mark and Sean contribute to the toxic ideology of “defend your friends to the end”. And it disenfranchises those effected because 1) they’re not Jewish, they have absolutely no say in the matter, and 2) they’re abusing their popularity to keep their friend from being properly criticized. I don’t think either of them are shitty people, per se, but they’re being extremely toxic by not letting their friend see that they’re a repeat offender and need to either work on their shit or face the music. Mark and Sean both have the power to make Felix change if they just give him the ultimatum of “us or this”.

But I digress. The main issue highlighted here is that people who actually do bad things and continue to do bad things aren’t being held accountable because people don’t care to acknowledge what doesn’t directly effect them. This is the first main issue with cancel culture.

Let’s focus on another man under scrutiny: John Lennon. Now, let me put out there for disclaimer purposes that this man is far from perfect and has problematic parts to him as well. He’s done some shitty things. But cancel culture looooooooves to dig at this man. To put it crudely, they really enjoy beating this dead... man. And mainly over one really bad thing he did, which was hit his wife. However, people love to 1) over-exaggerate it, and 2) completely ignore how he handled the aftermath. Cancel culture often refers to him as a “wife beater”, as though this were a chronic habit or that he severely brutalized his wife. But they conveniently ignore that he apologized, both to her and publicly, taught himself about domestic abuse and spoke up for women’s rights, and even wrote multiple songs about how he fucked up and he shouldn’t be excuse for what he did. And, most importantly, his wife forgave him. The victim in this situation forgave him, and people still dig into this one thing and use it as their reason to hate him and his band to this day. Genuine criticism of him and what he’s done have gone to the wayside because of this one fact with no context, and it’s a huge phenomena because people, for whatever reason, love to hate popular things. Like I said, he’s done shitty things! He wasn’t perfect! But to use one issue that was literally resolved to hate him is just a lazy excuse to hate what’s popular, and that comes to our second issue with cancel culture: people want to hate what’s popular and will go to any lengths to excuse their hatred, even if issues that have been resolved.

The last main issue I have is that cancel culture is often set up in very black and white terms. Person does bad thing, they’re bad, end of discussion. But that’s... not how life works. Not at all. I know religion isn’t universal, especially Christianity, but there’s one point in Christianity that is universal: humans are flawed. No human being to have ever existed is perfect. And with the rise of technology and social media, a lot of mistakes have a permanent proof out there. Be it through tweets, tumblr or Facebook posts, Instagram or Snapchat stories, whatever it is, there is proof. And people like to take it way too far.

For example... well, I’ll use myself. There’s good things to not being tumblr famous, and I’m blessed with that, because I used to be a major shithead. Well. Okay, I still am, but I was bigoted, uninformed, and had a lot of internalized issues. For anyone that doesn’t know, I was raised in a conservative Christian household where my father was Southern Baptist and my mother had been raised Catholic (her personal religious views are much more lax though, thankfully). Both came from small towns in Illinois and Missouri respectively, and their parents, the same. I was aggressively homophobic and transphobic (ironic, eh?), covertly racist and sexist, and just overall a really shitty person. And while I didn’t join tumblr until after I’d finally started to grow, a lot of people on here are younger -- some even lying about their age and joining before they’re 13. And like me, many of these kids are in close-minded households. And for the longest time I refused to listen to other people because of the good ol’ backfire effect, but once I began to accept I was wrong, I learned. Of course I still have learning to do -- I always do. I always will. And that’s okay. But if I were 12 year old me on tumblr today, I would, well. I would’ve probably killed myself by now, because of all the bullying and hate for being a shithead child. A shithead, yes. But a child. Someone that’s going to be ignorant to a lot of things because they haven’t been alive for as long. And not everyone has informed parents that make it a point to teach them. Adults are a little harder to forgive, I’ll admit, but children have a lot more potential to learn and grow, and we often treat them just like adults.

The final issue with cancel culture is that it gives no room for improvement and no assumption of someone’s innocence. While it hurts to be on the victim end, we as a whole are obligated to correct the issue. I personally would like it to be those not effected doing that (i.e. someone making a transphobic comment having other cis people explain why it’s transphobic and isn’t okay), but regardless, we need to assume innocent until guilty with these kinds of things. It’s not easy, sure, but if I had been on tumblr while I was a shitty kid parroting my dad’s awful world views, cancel culture would’ve labeled me a piece of shit with no chance of redemption, and if I didn’t kill myself there’s no fucking way in hell I would’ve learned, because that kind of treatment would’ve stuck with me and made it harder for me to listen to the other side’s reasoning, even if they were right. We need to approach people in a manner of calm education, instead of ready to kill. In no way am I saying this is an easy thing to do, but unless they’ve refused to open themselves up in any way whatsoever, immediately chalking someone up as a lost cause is just... counter-productive. We have to acknowledge that people are flawed, and can learn and grow. We need to give people space to improve. It’s not all or nothing.

All in all, cancel culture has a good base, but its execution has become irrational and a means to justify hating those that really don’t deserve it, while turning a blind eye to those that actually are problematic. There’s a lot to be improved on.

#ask #long post #cancel culture #this is not an invite for discouse on anyone mentioned in this post #seriously i don't want to hear it #especially felix stans #Anonymous

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outpunched-blog1 · 7 years ago

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Alright so how about drinking headcanons? Who drinks booze, how do they act when drunk, fave drink, etc.

Doc Louis likes a nice whiskey, but a beer will suffice. He drinks occasionally, but usually in the comfort of his own home. He used to go out drinking after celebrating wins when he was still a boxer. When drunk, he acts really happy and optimistic and, more recently, a bit tired.

Little Mac likes Pepsi. When asked at restaurants if he’d be alright with Cola, he decides to drink iced tea, instead. Sorry, buddy, this isn’t Canada!

Glass Joe definitely drinks from time-to-time, but only ever wine. It’s in his blood, and he’s always had a little glass to sip from at dinner ever since he’d turned fifteen. He doesn’t often get drunk or drink heavily, and you will almost never see him going out for alcohol. Instead, he keeps it classy in his own place of residence. When drunk, he is more quiet and tired, though remains happy and smiling.

Bier. Bier. Bier! Not dissimilar to Joe, Von Kaiser feels beer is simply in his blood. “Du kannst kein Deutscher ohne Bier sein!”, and his patriotism knows no bounds. From the age of fourteen and on, Kaiser would only ever drink beer if he went out to restaurants or parks. There are times when he allows himself to be drunk and happy, but other times he is very careful to watch himself when drinking heavily in public. He can either be a relaxed and laid-back person when drunk, or extremely anxious and easy-to-anger.

Disco Kid does appreciate a little drink now and again. Something colourful and fun, like a martini, is his favourite. He can do with just a beer, though. He is a lightweight, however, and knows when to start substituting the alcohol for water. Even though he restricts himself, you shouldn’t count on him to be the designated driver home, as when he goes out to a club, he always leaves at least a little buzzed. When drunk, he becomes even more outgoing until eventually crashing hard when the night’s over.

King Hippo doesn’t drink alcohol, but he does love a lot of juice! And his version of ‘juice’ is just any fruit or vegetable he can squish-up into a liquid state, but he can settle for the pre-packaged pre-squeezed stuff when he’s not back at home.

Piston Hondo is a (privately) self-proclaimed Saké Connoisseur. He’s very particular about what types and brands of sake he purchases, and will be sure to complain in a letter to the manufacturer or the store that sold it to him if it’s not up-to-par. Most interesting about his drinking habits is how heavily he can drink at any given time. This is usually with friends back in his homeland, as he is extra careful everywhere else to remain polite and composed. In Japan, he would definitely be considered one of the best to hold his liquor. When drunk, he actually can get either quite cocky and loud or more reserved and analytical of every little thing around him.

Beer Hugger-- sorry, Bear Hugger won’t go a week without at least a few drinks. He loves his beer! And he’s not too picky about what brand he drinks, either. But his favourite craft beers are from Victoria and Calgary. You will be able to spot him in bars during big hockey matches, making friends and having a good time with a big 2-litre glass of beer in his hand. He’s both sleepy and happy when he gets drunk, but definitely more willing to joke-around in a way that could start a fight-- if he were outside of Canada.

Great Tiger has had a drink before, when he’d first gotten a license for alcohol consumption, but is not really much of a fan, and doesn’t see the point of it. Of course, this makes him the usual candidate for becoming the designated driver within his ring of comrades, even though he usually will complain about having to put-up with a bunch of bumbling, drunken idiots before finally accepting the request.

Good lord, this Spaniard can drink! Lunch break? Beer. Breakfast? A nice wine. Dinner? Whatever fits the mood. Bedtime? What the hell is that? Why sleep, when you can drink, amigo!? Of course, that’s only the case when he doesn’t have work the next day. When Don goes out to drink, he goes out to get drunk. Grab-up the hombres and your amantes, there will definitely be a good time to be had. When Don’s drinking at home, alone, now that is when you should be worrying. His usual drunken state is a prolonged sense of confidence, occasional singing, and a loud mouth, but when Don’s on his own, he’s often in bad mood, and the liquor makes it worse. At-home drinking will probably proceed in this fashion: 1. Drink. 2. Drink again. 3. Question why everything is wrong in your life. 4. Is it really all terrible, or am I overreacting again? 5. Why do I overreact often? 6. Another drink. 7. Start crying. 8. “calmate, hombre!” 9. Drink again. 10. Cry again, only much harder. 11. Pass-out.

Have I touched on Aran’s drinking behaviour before? I believe I have. But that’s alright, you already know what I’m going to say. Three chants for Guinness! Ain’t nothin’ like it, nor anything in liquid form more Irish than that! Aran might have a can or two every night, but he makes it a goal to at least visit a bar twice a week to get absolutely loaded. Drunk Aran is basically his in-ring persona but slightly-more sluggish, and with his words slurring. He often makes a fool of himself, and will say whatever is on his mind-- whether it’s TMI or just annoying. If he’s having a rough week, he’ll start to cry-- while still smiling and laughing and cracking jokes.

Soda Popinski tells people he cannot get drunk. I’m inclined to believe him. No one’s ever seen him more than a little tired after a night of heavy drinking. Must be from his Russian blood and the vodka he drinks so often. Because I have no records of it, I can’t say for sure what Soda Popinski may act like when drunk. He’s a good drinking-buddy however, which Aran can attest to, and will often act as a good straight-man for whoever went out with him that night. Aran can also attest to that, as he was probably saved from being sent to the hospital multiple times because of Soda’s level-headedness.

In his prime (From 11-23-or-so), Bald Bull drank often. These days, he prefers a few glasses with dinner and in his down-time. When outside of Turkey, he drinks more often because he also visits restaurants more often, and the wine is much less expensive. A drunk Bald Bull is not a good Bald Bull to be around unless he sees you as a good friend, in which case, he will be quite loud and physical. Many hard pats on the back or hugs around the shoulder. Even then, though, he can be easy to aggravate (what’s new?) when someone other than a friend approaches him or even bumps him accidentally.

Super Macho Man actually doesn’t drink all that often, despite the bucket of ice-and-liquor he has in his cars, in his bathroom, in his kitchen and dining halls, and even in his bedrooms. He certainly can drink when he wants to though, and isn’t actually that picky despite acting as if he is in public. Drunk Super Macho Man is, surprisingly, a bit quiet. He’ll watch from the sidelines, sipping idly, and watching everything else happen around him, as if it were all just a movie. He’s easier to make laugh, when inebriated.

Mr. Sandman is the most average drinker on this list, I would say. Or at least, average by US standards. He might have a beer and watch something on the TV in the evening, he might not. He might order wine or a caesar when at a fancy dinner, he might not. It’s really all up to how he’s feeling, he’s very neutral on alcohol and has a strict policy against it on nights before matches. You won’t find him excessively drinking often, but when he does get a little tipsy, he’s probably going to be the one that’s all smiles and laughter and a little drowsy, but still willing to make sure everyone’s having a good time.

#Alcohol TW #PHEW done in one hour this time.#eraty bless you for asking abut HCs all th damn time #gives me something to think about and feel like im contributing a lil #Asks #eraty

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 2: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

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This article contains WANDAVISION Episode 1 spoilers, and potential spoilers for future episodes, the wider MCU, and Marvel Comics. We have a spoiler free review here.

NOTE: This is our reference guide for WandaVision episode 2! If you’re looking for episode 1, click here instead.

And you thought this show couldn’t get weirder? WandaVision episode 2 moved its sitcom-flavor a few years into the (still black and white) future, introduced a few new characters, and started leaning a little harder into the MCU than we saw in the first episode.

Let’s see what we found…

Sitcom Inspiration!

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The idea of a regular suburban couple needing to do something goofy like put on an act for a talent show seems like classic sitcom fodder, but things get even more specific in this episode.

The animated intro is VERY reminiscent of the opening of Bewitched, the sitcom I feel like this has the most in common with in its first two episodes…for obvious reasons.

Due to the Hays Code, non-married couples never shared the same bed on television until…Darrin and Samantha on Bewitched in the ‘70s. This episode begins with Wanda and Vision in separate beds until Wanda magicks them together.

One other sitcom-y connection might be that whenever reality is starting to show its cracks, a character says “damn,” which has to be against whatever TV rules they had in the 1950s and therefore breaks the immersion further. Vision’s boss yells it at dinner in the first episode and Vision says it when there’s that outside noise in this one.

Bova

The sharp-eyed Ed Duffy spotted a carton of “Bova Milk” in the opening animated segment of the episode.

Bova is a cow evolved to walk and talk like a human, a gentle old soul who served as a midwife at the birth of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Well, at least in the comics. We’re not counting on seeing Bova’s lovely bovine countenance on this show any time soon, but hey, you never know!

The Grim Reaper

Also visible in that animated intro is the Grim Reaper’s helmet, apparently underground at their house. The Grim Reaper is an extremely annoying Marvel villain who constantly popped up in stories dealing with Vision and Scarlet Witch. He was the brother of Simon “Wonder Woman” Williams, was a stupid racist, and was really angry all the damn time.

Watch everything Marvel and more on Disney+, right here!

The actual location of that helmet could be a subtle callback to the events of Tom King and Gabriel Hernandez Walta’s Vision series, which is an absolute masterpiece that you should read as soon as possible.

Westview

Wanda and Vision live in the fictional town of Westview, which despite looking very much like a Burbank backlot, is likely supposed to be in New Jersey. There’s two reasons we’re going to place Westview in New Jersey. First, Herb makes a reference to Hackensack, NJ later in the episode. But more importantly, in the comics, Wanda and Vision made the real life bedroom community of Leonia, NJ their home in the 1980s Vision and the Scarlet Witch comics.

Illusion and Glamor

Wanda and Vision’s stage magic act name has them going by the name of “Illusion” (Vision) and “Glamor” (Wanda). In the Vision and the Scarlet Witch comics, Illusion and Glamor were characters of their own, famed stage magicians Ilya and Glynis Zarkov, who were friendly neighbors of our favorite weirdo couple. What the public didn’t know was that their stage magic was actually REAL magic (kind of like what we see with Viz and Wanda later this episode). And what even fewer people knew was that they were also international criminals. Anyway, don’t expect Ilya and Glynis to show up on WandaVision or in the MCU now that their names have been used.

Also…is it us or does Wanda’s “Glamor” bathing suit thingy feel like a reference to some of her original, skimpier costumes?

Who is Geraldine?

That would be Teyonah Parris as “Geraldine,” who it has already been revealed is in fact the grown up version of Monica Rambeau, the young girl we met in Captain Marvel. While we’re on the subject, is it us, or does Geraldine’s brooch look a little like the logo she wore when she took on the mantle of Captain Marvel in the comics?

The Neighbors

In addition to Agnes (who we wrote about in detail here) and the aforementioned Geraldine, we also meet Fred and Linda, Dennis the Mailman, Dottie and Phil, Beth, and someone named Herbert. We have our suspicions that the seven of them (minus Geraldine) could be Marvel’s Satan’s Seven. We wrote more about this theory here.

Ol’ Herb, perhaps coincidentally, but perhaps not, shares a name with Herbert Edgar Wyndham, the Marvel Comics villain known as the High Evolutionary, who in some versions of Wanda and her brother Pietro’s origin, was responsible for giving them their powers.

The Helicopter

Wanda finds a toy helicopter, in full color, in her bushes. For one thing, the helicopter is in Iron Man colors (or Vision colors?). For another, it has the #57 on it. Vision made his first appearance in the comics in the pages of Avengers #57 in 1968. But perhaps most importantly, that helicopter bears the logo of SWORD (which we wrote more about here) on it.

So here’s the uncomfortable question: is this just Wanda’s subconscious playing tricks on her, or did she actually bring down a SWORD helicopter not knowing what she did?

The Beekeeper

The weird and disturbing beekeeper is an agent of SWORD based on the logo on his back. Or…is he?

“For the Children”

The creepy, cult-y repetition of “for the children” certainly can’t be foreshadowing for Wanda’s own struggles with starting a family, can it? Of course not. Nothing to see here…

The Strucker Commercial

The watch comes from a company called “Strucker.”

The Strucker watch matches up with one of the themes of the rest of the episode. Baron Wolfgang von Strucker showed up as part of Wanda and Pietro’s origin in the MCU, but before that, he was a comic book foe of Captain America’s, a Nazi who had a mystical artifact that gave him powers: his Satan Claw. With all the devil mentions elsewhere in this episode, this is likely intentional.

“He’ll make time for you,” the slogan from the commercial, likely hints at another aspect of Wanda’s story here. In the comics, she was discovered to be a Nexus of Realities, an entity with a lot of explanation that amounts to “she’s important to the multiverse.” The person who discovered this about her (and nurtured it, and protected her because of it) was Immortus, the far future version of Kang the Conqueror.

The same two actors from the Stark Industries Toastmate 2000 commercial from episode one are back here. If they become a recurring theme, do they have greater significance?

Lingering Questions…

The WandaVision house number is 2800. So far, we’re drawing blanks on what that might mean from a Marvel or MCU standpoint.

Does anyone recognize the logo on “the cabinet of mysteries?” Is this something Wanda has worn? Is it perhaps a Doctor Strange easter egg?

Is it possible that “Wentworth’s” department store is a reference to Deidre Wentworth, better known as Superia, the villainous Femizon who once created an alternate reality of her own? No? Too much of a reach? OK, fine.

Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 2: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

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drakorn · 7 years ago

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At long last, I got to see Tanz in Vienna again

I have FINALLY returned home to Vienna. Of course, on the next day I immediately had to go and watch Tanz der Vampire.

I cannot even begin to describe how incredibly cathartic it is to finally see the Vienna version once again, after having watched the Stage and St. Gallen version. I have seen three different productions of Tanz now, and until this day, I still like the Vienna version the most. In my personal opinion, a snowy evening in Vienna during Christmas time is the absolute best time to watch Tanz der Vampire. Naturally, I will see it more than once while I am here. But let’s talk about tonight, shall we?

Well, since we all pretty much know the Vienna version already, I will not waste much time on the set and costumes. It’s still the same historical gothic set from 2009, BUT there are a few changes: The projections and animations, for instance, are different now and the cave at the beginning of He, ho, he is much more three-dimensional. The ballroom also performs a 180-degree turn, which looks AWESOME. And of course, we have the new ending, which makes things much much clearer. There were also minor tweaks to some of the staging and costumes (the sudden appearance of Dream!Sarah and Krolock’s even more gothic cape symbol for instance). But overall it’s still the version I love more than the others. Now...let us talk about the cast I had tonight :D

Graf von Krolock - Florian Fetterle. Boy, was I lucky to have him, since he apparently only plays once or twice a month. And I did not regret it. Florian is a great Krolock! He puts his own touch on the role. You don’t just think “Ah, an understudy”, you actually see a proper Krolock interpretation on stage. Florian’s Krolock feels a bit like Javert at some point: he has this same dutiful and disciplined way to go about things and he is determined to complete his tasks. He knows he must prepare and hold a ball and he is very keen on achieving this. He has everything planned and under control. However, he is also a very upper-class Krolock. Not a single moment did I think he was in love with Sarah. During Totale Finsternis he acted as if he wanted to say “Yeah, as if, you peasant.” When the word “Feelings” came up, he rolled with his eyes and gestured into the air, as if he’s thinking “Yeah, whatever, feelings, yay. What is this kitsch show I got myself into?” And then the Gier happened. He did it a bit like a Shakespearean tragedy monologue. In this one scene, he showed that he used to love in his human days, but that love is long since extinguished and everything during his vampire state means essentially nothing to him. I really did enjoy Florian’s Krolock and would love to see him again! And he’s definitely got the voice!

Sarah - Diana Schnierer. FINALLY we get a Sarah who actually looks like she is 17 years old! While some Sarah’s portray their character actually being interested in Alfred, Diana kinda only plays with him. She is nice and all, but she definitely wants to get to Castle Krolock as fast as possible. She is totally taken in by Krolock and all the wonders he promises her. When she turns into a vampire, she is vicious and enjoys every single moment of it. But she is also much braver than some other Sarahs. She is not as shy. She seductively sinks back into the bathtub when Chagal instructs her to do so, she really MAKES Alfred look to the right parts during Du bist wirklich sehr nett, she is counting on him falling for her tricks. She tries to kiss Krolock during Totale Finsternis, only for him to be turned away immediately, she did a lot of things with Sarah and I loved a lot of it! But having said that, she is not a bad person. During Alles is hell and Wahrheit, she exchanges some friendly and playful looks with Alfred and during Draußen ist Freiheit she actually looks like she gives a damn about him. But yeah, otherwise, totally Team Krolock for her. Diana also has a fantastic voice and, despite her slight accent, she really sold the role for me!

Alfred - Raphael Gross. Ok, this guy is EASILY my new favourite Alfred. He is so innocent all of the time, but at the same time he is not a bumbling idiot but actually knows what’s going on, he’s just very naive. When his Alfred tries to remember the word “rip” it’s not because he’s stupid or so, but it feels more like he’s forgetting things because he is massively stressed out by the situation. This Alfred feels like he is just beginning his studies at the university and this could very well be his first field trip. He respects Abronsius but is also not afraid to counter him. During Tot zu sein ist komisch, when they descend the stairs and Abronsius makes the noise: He calls Alfred out with an annoyed “Boy!”, Raphael replies with pretty much the same tone of voice “Professor!”. Or during Die Gruft, when Abronsius is like “Do you think it’s fun hanging here?”, Raphael replies with an annoyed and stressed-out “No!”. When he’s turned into a vampire, he becomes just as vicious as Sarah. And he has a great voice! Für Sarah was definitely a highlight of the evening. As I said, easily my new favourite Alfred.

Professor Abronsius - Luc Steegers. Again, I am amazed how good the understudies in this production are. Luc Steegers, just like Florian Fetterle, felt like a first cast member to me. His Abronsius is purely an academic driven by his goal. I saw a bit of Gernot Kranner in him as well, which was quite nice :D What I also really enjoyed was his comedic timing of “old man moments”. Especially his freakout during Die Gruft was a highlight. Sometimes I was worried about the quick parts in his songs but he mastered them. He is still not my favourite Abronsius, but who knows what the future might bring. His voice is also really great and totally suiting the professor.

Chagal - Nicolas Tenerani. I already liked him from what I’ve seen and heard through media but seeing him live was a new experience altogether. I like his Chagal. He is a bit more aggressive than the other Chagals I have seen so far. He plays the nice innkeeper but he is not grovelling in front of his guests like some other Chagals do. But he also appears to be a bit angrier with Sarah than some other Chagals. He really lets her know that she messed up. And he is also not grovelling before Koukol. He makes it clear that he’s only giving him candles because otherwise, he might get in trouble with Krolock, not because he’s afraid of the hunchback himself. Since I heard Nicolas talk in real life, I am amazed by the spectacular voice acting he did with Chagal. It does not sound like him at all XD But that only shows how good of an actor he is. I am impressed!

Magda - Marle Martens. I also have a new favourite Magda! She looks the part and she definitely SOUNDS the part. I have never heard a Magda with such a strong and pure voice before. Not once did I hear any falter on her part. Tot zu sein ist komisch was just a blessing for my ears. And she also acts the part really well! When she is human, she is quite good and morally on the right side, but also independent and will not take any shit from Chagal. She is also really nice to Alfred, especially when he helps her with the turnips during Wahrheit. When she is a vampire, she is going all out, every single movement being seductive. And she also cackles, laughs and really has a lot of fun with the role. So yeah, my new favourite Magda it is :D

Herbert - Christoph Apfelbeck. I have seen Christoph in quite a few things already! I saw him as Artus in the Austrian “Artus-Excalibur” production and also as the Nightmare Solo in St. Gallen. So I was excited to see him as Herbert, and he did NOT disappoint! He was playful but also gave away this Malfoy like atmosphere. This Herbert is clearly the princess of the castle and does whatever he wants. This is the kind of Herbert I always read about in fanfictions: Funny, always in a good mood, doesn’t take shit, just enjoys his undead existence XD And again! Amazing understudy casting by the VBW right here.

Rebecca - Dawn Bullock. I honestly don’t really know what to say big about her. Rebecca is just such a role that doesn’t give you that many places for highlights. But every opportunity that is given to her, she takes. The comedic timing is great and the line delivery is on point! I don’t know what else I can ask for here :D

Koukol - Florian Resetarits. Originally, Jordan Hinchliffe was supposed to play Koukol on this show, but then Florian jumped in again. I don’t know why but it happened, so there we go. I loved Florian’s Koukol! He reminded me of Thomas Weissengruber quite a lot. But then I also saw other things! This Koukol is not an idiot XD He is very loyal to Krolock, doesn’t take shit from anybody and is never far off from using aggression. But he also has his moments of niceness like during Ein perfekter Tag where he makes an attempt to talk to Alfred or during Die Gruft when he grins like a sneaky child stealing sweets as he realises that he’s about to get a small solo segment. And he also keeps making sounds and grunts while walking through the audience, which just amazing XD Definitely a great Koukol!

So yeah, my first Tanz show of this season was absolutely brilliant! I’m seeing it again on Wednesday but this time with Filippo as Krolock! I am very much looking forward to it! Aaaah, so good to finally be back in Vienna!

#Tanz der Vampire #Musical #Vienna #Cast #Review #Oh my god #This is sooooooooooo good!#Wanna go again XD

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vminity21 · 5 years ago

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Wishes instead of Weeds | jhs [Sneak Peek]

Pairing: Teacher!Hoseok x Waitress!Reader, ExBoyfriend!Jeongguk X Waitress!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: angst/fluff/soft

Warning(s): angst involving heartbreak, some language used, mention of alcohol, potential smut

Summary: After an unexpected breakup, you find yourself living day by day wanting nothing more than to be happy again. Though your best friend M and your co-workers bring a smile to your face, the restaurant’s regular, Jung Hoseok, happens to be a new light that shines in your life even though you don’t realize it at first. Wishes instead of Weeds, a story about a broken heart that gets mended back together all from a mere wish on a cloud of dandelion seeds.

The corner of a faded picture is pressed between your fingertips before thumbing away at some clustered debris covering his face. “Shit,” you whisper between grit teeth, letting your jeans slip from your lap to lightly plop upon the ground. Laundry has been finished hence why the discovery of the picture being found in the pocket brings a wince of pain considering it’s one of the few memories you have of the two of you. Your grip loosens to where the photo sways landing facedown on the table, your palms sliding along your face and into your hair, sniffling back whatever tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Jeongguk left you without any warning.

Absolutely nothing.

Jeongguk never had anything to be sorry for in your mind, until now. With a long, shaky exhale, you use the hem of your sleeve to dry your face, gradually standing to your feet with the intention of putting away the folded laundry to then arranging for bed. Due to your promotion, you’re thankful to discover that you will be making enough money to at least pay the bills for the apartment; with the sudden change of being alone that was one of your top concerns, also not wanting your mother to find out knowing she would send you money immediately. You want to avoid the confession of the breakup, too, because you do not want to feel like a burden to anyone, even if you may have felt that way to him, though you’re not sure if you will ever know. Robotically, the next hour achingly completes before you crowd under the sheets, hoping that your day tomorrow will bring you at least a tad bit of strength.

Strong scents of coffee and bacon greet your nose as it does every morning when you arrive at your job that you happen to call your second home. A family member of yours owns the diner that daintily sits off the side of the road surrounded by a recently mowed lawn, and rustic flowerpots gifted by people of the town where a florist visits to ensure the plants will be watered. You’ve always loved the aura of the area, especially with the way people seemed to treat each other, and despite your title being a waitress, which Jeongguk’s parents used to shame until he had stood up for you, you do receive good benefits here. Patting your chest frantically, the rectangular piece of your nametag is felt which relieves you that you hadn’t forgot about it this morning, bringing enough distraction from the inner heartache you’re trying to suppress.

Clocking in, you briskly scoop up a notepad, helping your co-workers with the breakfast rush; you were promoted to being the assistant manager since you’ve been waitressing here for many years, and thankfully your shifts end at 5:30 pm when your relative takes over, giving you the evenings to yourself. You’re mainly responsible for keeping the shelves stocked- placing orders for whatever supplies are needed as well as handling the drawers to ensure the money count is accurate. When you notice one of the employees, Park Jimin is waiting one of the only tables left once the crowd minimizes momentarily, you saunter to the kitchen to check on the chefs since you unfortunately missed greeting them this morning.

“Ready as I’ll ever be!” You reply, squeezing his large shoulder, “What about you?”

“Always,” he chuckles, taking tongs to lightly press the meat harder onto the crackling grill. Another chef, Kim Seokjin, is working on shoving pans of biscuits into the oven, then turning to slice some fruit set off to the side while the dough bakes. It’s your number one priority when given the chance upon starting your shift, is checking on every employee to ensure they’re okay. When all give positive answers, you shuffle behind one of the main counters when first walking into the building to see if any customers need refills. The ding of the door alerts you once you pour a mug of coffee for an individual sitting off to the side, your gaze averting to recognize the tall, thin figure of the restaurant’s regular, Jung Hoseok, hands cuddled into the pockets of his coat, swiftly stepping to the same seat at the counter he occupies every single morning.

A small grin tugs at the corner of your lips, “Long time no see,” you tease, watching the brief tilt of his head that follows a contagious smile, “You want your usual?”

“Are you okay?” Your best friend, Monica, who you normally call M, asks once you’re a quarter of the way into cleaning.

“Ye-yeah. Yeah,” you stutter, trying to ignore the evident humiliation planted within your expression. M investigates the way your widened eyes have yet to calm, seeing right through your reply.

You meet her eyes before nodding in defeat, your quivering chin being enough to tell her that you really haven’t been okay, though she’s unaware of why. The warmth of outside is enough to soothe your skin, your feet determined to make it to one of the picnic tables located on the side of the restaurant where gratefully not a soul happens to be inhabiting. In frustration, you’ve done well masking the truth underlying your hollow smile, or so you thought, but dropping onto the bench, you bury your face in your hands blocking out the crying you fight to hold back.

“Hey…” A tender voice belonging to that of a male springs your gaze up from your stiff hands, shoulders slumping in relief to see it’s Hoseok, though concern clouds his almond eyes.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I hope all that noise didn’t disturb your breakfast,” you apologize, clearly embarrassed, though your grin doesn’t reach your eyes.

Hoseok’s lips part, “No, not at all, in fact, I came to see if you were okay,”

“Okay,” he purses his lips, “well I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to sit here until you’re okay,” he says, swinging his thin leg over the seat across from you.

“But- but I am okay-” Obviously caught off guard, Hoseok holds an index finger up to stop you,

“Your nametag is upside down.”

Oh shit, you gasp, eyes widening in horror because the name of the person you do not want to speak of- his favorite is French toast which you accidentally wrote on Hoseok’s order without even realizing it. “Oh my gosh, Hoseok,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in shame, “I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I did that,”

“My point,” he leans forward holding your eyes where worry for your wellbeing hasn’t diminished, “[Y/N]? Are you okay?”

“Hello, this Jeongguk, sorry I couldn’t take your call-”

“Damnit!” you wail, hanging up abruptly, tossing your phone into the passenger side. That’s the first you’ve heard him speak rounding up to a month, and though no one is watching, your hands hover over your face where you choke out breathy sobs, wishing you never attempted to call. He must think you’re weak, you torture yourself with mindless insecurities, but still, where is he? Which then sparks the next question, do you really want to know? What feels to make matters worse is how you profusely wish he was just here. Right next to you where you used to think he belonged- holding your hand in his especially on nights where you needed his comfort most. None of this makes any sense, because where in the world did you go wrong? Why does this all make you feel like this is completely your fault? What if he ever says you didn’t try hard enough? What if-?

“Hello,” you wince at the stuffy noise of your voice hoping M doesn’t notice.

“You are the nosiest, inquisitive, you-better-tell-me-now-before-I-cut-you, woman I have ever known, and yet you didn’t ask one- Hey, are you okay?”

“Not until you get your ass over here,”

“But-”

“Yoongi’s,” she coos, her eyes averting to timidly browsing at the open bottle of red wine.

“Ah, Yoongi? How cute.”

“Oh, shut up,” she pours the both of you a glass, the two of you making cheers before taking a few sips, letting the strong taste pool on your tongue before swallowing.

“Now,” you say, setting your glass down for a moment, “Confess.”

“You’re the first person he thought of,” you remark.

“I’m sorry, just a little tired.”

There’s a mini pause, one where M gathers her words before choosing to continue, “You know you never answered me earlier.” She mentions, and you chew at your lips as a canopy of guilt floods your vision. You still haven’t told a soul about the breakup, and M is your closest friend and coworker, and you can’t help feeling ashamed for keeping this from her. “And noting the dried dot of mascara on your cheek, I know something’s up.” Your fingertips fly to your cheek. “Other side,” and you move your hand to rub harshly at the skin.

“Thank you,” you whisper, bringing your fingertips to your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut while a stab of pain enters your already tainted heart. “He left,” is all you can muster, flinching at the thought of his name. Realization commences M’s expression because her eyes widen, her mouth forming an “O” shape in reaction to how much she did not expect your words.

“Oh [Y/N], I am so sorry. I had no idea-”

“No. I don’t- I don’t know. He just left without any explanation.”

“What?” M murmurs in disbelief, “I never thought-”

“You know we have work tomorrow,” she reminds you though you engulf your second glass without delay since the buzz you’re gaining lightens the load weighing heavy on your soul.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you whine, clumsily reaching for the wine bottle, M grasping it away from you.

“No, ma’am. For someone who barely drinks, you sure are determined to steal it all.”

“It’s for a good cause,”

“Nah- ah!” M taps your hand away after your third attempt, “Your sanity is important. Now, go lay down. If there’s anything you really need, it’s a good night’s sleep.”

You groan, “Why do you have to be such a good friend,” you sag, M rounding the counter to put an arm underneath your shoulders.

“Goodnight, you killjoy.”

“Hey, you’ll thank me when you awaken without a splitting headache.”

“And, I’ll believe it when I arise from this couch at seven in the AM.”

She holds your gaze, “Always… And [Y/N]?”

“Hm,” you grunt groggily, feeling the heavy flutters of your eyelids begging for slumber, but your ears perk enough, especially when M’s next words bring hushed tears to your tired eyes.

“You’ll get through this; I have no doubt. Whatever is going on, he made his choice. He’s running from this because he’s ashamed of something.”

To be continued....

- Story is currently in the process of being rewritten from the original, thank you so much for reading -

#btswritingcafe #jung hoseok #jeon jeongguk #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok soft #hoseok fluff #4.7k +#bts #sneak peek #bts sneak peek #bts jung hoseok #bts jhope #bts hoseok #bts jeongguk

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