#of course that's impossible and they just misunderstood each other completely

[tod-siegt]

This scene always gets me.

Both characters are just written so well. There's Steven, struggling to find himself, asking for good advice which he never gets, wanting something to build his life upon. And Connie, knowing exactly what she wants to do with her life, and pretty much independent.

They are both in complete opposite stages in their lives from eachother, and th complete opposite of themselves than they were 2-3 years ago. Steven used to know exactly what his life was for. He had a legacy to pursue from his mom. Connie used to not have any independence. Her entire life was run by her parents, which were her only influence, and had no friends to break her out of that bubble (which is such an amazing metaphor from Bubble Buddies omg). They both completely changed the course of each other's lives.

In Future, Steven is looking for someone to be there for him, or trying to find someone else to fix. But nobody really needs him, and when he asks someone else for help, they either leave him or don't understand why he needs help. Lars, Sadie, a the gems, his dad, all do the same thing. And when he finally gets to spend time with Connie, he feels that she's really the only one that still wants him. And she's moving to the other side of the country.

With that, on top of Ruby and Sapphire giving him HORRENDOUS advice, as they don't understand the difference between their situation and his, Steven makes the mistake thats the turning point for him in future. Which Connie handles litterly the best way possible. Steven coming with her to college would be extremely unhealthy for both of them. But with Steven in the state he's in, it's not surprising that he takes it negatively.

After this, he really has no one to turn to. He tried to reach out to his dad, but he too misunderstood what Steven was going through.

There's a lot of hate for this scene in particular. With it's second-hand embarrassment and a lot of claims that Steven's proposal and Future actions were completely out of character. But that's the point of this, and why I love it so much. Steven really isn't acting like himself. He's not the same person he was in the main show. That's what trauma does to you. In the main show, his character development is that he goes from being selfish and inconsiderate to over considerate and selfless. In Future, all that pressure starts to break him. So even though he's not in character for his old self, the old self that bottles up his emotions, he's completely in character for his Future self.

This scene really is tragic. Because what Steven is going through is tragic. It's embarrassing because we understand, as viewers, what a huge mistake he's making, and we know the outcome. And it's not just tragic for Steven, but also for Connie. She's completely taken off guard, and has to make an impossible decision between her own independence and Steven. But she responds in the best way she could. She just states what they both already knew, that they are ultimately going to spend their lives together, one way or another, just not now. They are in no way like Garnet, two beings who are always together as one person. But two people with their own lives who should be complements to eachother, not dependent of eachother. That's what Steven doesn't understand, because at the moment, he doesn't feel like he is his own person with his own life.

Anyways, sorry for the yap sesh, I just love this scene so freaking much. And not just the writing, it's visuals, and the song as well.

[xierrot]

ARCANE 2 SPOILERS who's the best arcane character and why it's jayce talis (may be a bit biased. and my head is a mess rn so some of my wording may not make a sense)

cw there's a load siren sound in the video

arcane focuses on humans' flaws. like half of shit happened bc someone couldn't talk it out. and that's part of human nature too. things that seem rather logical to one may be impossible for another bc of the way they feel and see this world. and all characters in arcane have their own strong beliefs.

even jayce who seems to be easily manipulated. jayce is in fact one if not the most alive, humane character of them all.

firstly. what is the core of his character? it's his desire to help people with the use of magic. bc it once saved him and his mother and he fell in love with it so hard he made trying to bend it to his will the point of his life. he was misunderstood and alone in this desire but he did not give a fuck as long as his dream lived.

and then he failed. he didn't actually bc yk explosion at his lab is not his fault but everyone even his mother looked down on him at that trial bc of his dream. and they took it away. took away his point of life. so he was almost ready to end it (he was about to jump but hesitated a bit. that's in humans' nature too: many suicide attempts fail bc ppl are naturally afraid of what comes after it. and it's something completely impulsive and irrational). but that's where viktor came up and he saved his life. not by stopping him from that jump but by sparkling some hope in him saying that he has a desire too. and jayce is finally understood and not alone. and they completed each other.

later jayce became the poster boy. it's not what he wanted. but he's in fact way less experienced with social interactions and is not that good at reading people as viktor (viktor is good with social interactions. i believe he's even more confident than jayce to give a speech. yk viktor's ambitious enough to be heimer's personal assistant and even tho he didn't give that much credit i think not everyone can pull off being councilor's personal assistant like you have to present him. and with jayce viktor could be like "nah go give those speeches yourself idgaf" bc he could finally focus on what he wants to do) so he's manipulated into becoming a symbol. piltover's talisman. and mel said to him that it can be used as an instrument. and that made him realize he finally had enough power to say "fuck you" to those who looked down upon him.

so he did. but he's a scientist not a politician so his attitude worked against him. he decided to fight corruption being a part of corrupted system. ofc that led to no good. he had tried council's ways too with mel's help but when he realized that it created distance between him and his desire and viktor. and he stated several times that he's not cut for this politician shit. he only did it because he believed he could make things better. that he could help viktor that way. bc viktor became part of his desire that lies in his core. and he did everything out of this desire. he can be easily manipulated but you can't change it, only use it to farther manipulate him. change his view on some ways but not change his core.

and in s2 jayce has not changed. his character is exactly the same as he was in season 1. like he even does the same things: agreeing with viktor that they should not weaponize hextech but then doing so under pressure (manipulated again using his desire to make things better). he did it in s1, and he did it again in s2. and he said that he never wanted to be part of politics to mel in s1 and said it again to viktor in s2. and jayce cared for viktor in s1 as much as he did in s2. it's just that yk of course you would be much more stressed and caring if your friend's HALF-DEAD not just dying slowly where therapy could help like you hold the body of someone who's close to you and there was actually no way of saving viktor like legally and ethically. ofc jayce looked more worried but it's still in his character. he actually acted pretty the same when viktor was at the hospital in s1 but we didn't get much screentime of it and in s2 it's shown more.

and by saving viktor with hexcore he fulfills his main desire. by destroying him he does so too. and these are two things he did without any pressure or manipulations. these things are jayce's own decisions from tip to toe, from inside out. he saved viktor with hexcore out of his desire to help ppl by bending magic to humans' will. and he killed viktor out of his desire to help him (god knows how much willpower i have not to put "love" instead of "his desire to help him"). he kept saying "i won't fail" not only bc he probably time and space travelled and tried to kill viktor many times but because he failed viktor several times trying to fulfill his desires.

so overall jayce is trapped in cycle of trying to fulfill his desire and failing miserably in doing so and then trying to fix things out of this desire again and again. bc that's his core. and it's incredibly humane. (and he needs viktor to ground him as much as viktor needs him). everyone in arcane is fucked up. while some embrace it jayce tries to fight. showing duality of humans' nature. but of course no one gives a fuck to understand him. as did council in s1 act1..)

[ottosbigtop]

I am. Soo curious what is going on inside ur head regarding ur aac elka and dogen in that image..

ugughhhh ugh I want to draw images to explain but I know if I do it’s going to take me 4 fucking everrrr to answer and I’m very excited so I will share it NOW to get it out of my brain.

so Dogen and Elka are buddies. Besties even. They reconnect on a psychonauts mission during their teen years where Dogen, Lili, and Raz are dispatched to Elka’s home town to talk her down from a psychic freakout (that happens as a result of Backstory stuff for her but that would be another 5 paragraphs so dw abt it rn.)

they bond over having psychic powers that hurt. Having these abilities and not wanting them. Elka feels tormented by her future vision because it’s vague and never guaranteed but always frustrating anxiety inducing. Dogen hates his blastokinesis for. The obvious reasons. Dogen keeps in touch with Elka in some capacity after they help her out during that mission.

Innn my vague concept of a “canon” aac plotline, Elka is a villain attempting to create some sort of psychic device that will let her use her future vision to actively change the world. Making potential predictions reality, forcefully changing the course of events as she sees them. She spends a lot of time collecting brains to try and power this device, but it’s. A lot. It’s an impossible task being asked of it. Something with the ability to shape reality through psychic abilities.

Elka does a lot of talking Dogen into her plan, Dogen does a lot of gently suggesting she not go all supervillain. She feeds off his anxieties about his psychic abilities. She can make a world where he does better, where he can control himself, or where he doesn’t have to worry about being psychic at all! Dogen sees the path she’s going down and is convinced he has to be the one to stop her, because she’s misunderstood, because he doesn’t want her receiving the same side-eyed paranoia from other people at the thought of being a ‘dangerous’ psychic. He can be the one to talk her down from this.

Elka also recognizes that he has very powerful abilities. The tipping point of their relationship and this plot is, I think, when she finally decides she’s not asking for his help anymore. She needs his brain to complete her project.

just something about finding trust in each other but in a way that kind of turns to isolation. They are friends, genuinely, but their relationship degrades substantially the more Elka throws herself into her work to be free of her flawed psychic abilities.

[liskantope]

Ah, I see. My suggestion in the tags to my first reblog that I may have misunderstood some nuance in the OP turned out to be accurate. And yes, I broadly agree with your general stance and concerns here. (I would say, by the way, that the anti-woke depiction of trans activists strenuously denying that biological gender exists is a fairly severe weakman, but the portrayal of progressives as insisting on tortured language to avoid "male/female" is only a very mild weakman if that.)

I didn't realize that AMAB and AFAB began as terms that intersex people used -- that is interesting information! And it makes a lot of sense. I feel I can see pretty clearly how it came to be that AMAB/AFAB was pushed to become widespread in a way that extended to as much of the realm of physical human maleness/femaleness as possible. The social movement promoting recognition of trans identities, like most social movements (at least modern online ones), became absolutist to the point of wanting to deemphasize the concepts of biological maleness and femaleness as much as possible (even if most adherents don't actually deny the existence of biological gender) and make it awkward if not impossible to refer to the heavily clustered-together nodes of human maleness and femaleness so appropriated a pair of awkward acronyms in order to refer to what was traditionally called maleness/boy/man/etc. (coming up with some terminology about that is essential for transness to even be defined of course!). The acronyms are awkward in part because they need to convey a sensation of complete arbitrariness in how boy/man and girl/woman were traditionally defined and to relegate that whole categorification to the realm of social construction: it's all just what some doctor marked down on a form when each person was born! As opposed to, in the original case of intersex babies, where gender assignments by doctors probably often have been fairly arbitrary by unfortunate necessity.

Altogether I'm not quite as unsympathetic as I might appear in the above paragraph. I've tried to see "AMAB/AFAB" in terms of how someone transgender might feel: perhaps to them, their raw sensation surrounding their assigned gender is one of senseless arbitrariness (even though they'd obviously be aware that "well, it's because I have a penis/vagina", being born with that particular equipment in the first place probably feels totally senseless and arbitrary). I'm able to see why they might prefer an acronym that conveys that raw sensation. At the same time, I hope that we all might also empathize with why some other people would find a roundabout acronym that suggests that gender assignment is a purely arbitrary social construct to feel rather obnoxious (whereas in the case of intersex individuals it isn't at all).

The terms afab and amab are very much about the social construct aspect of gender, as in, they refer specifically to the letter on your birth certificate that was assigned to you, not any trait you innately possess. Yet I routinely hear people using these terms as a euphemism for biological aspects of sex, because I guess they think it sounds more progressive or something.

"afab tweens get very emotional at this age due to hormones," "archeologists think this skeleton belonged to an amab individual due to hip measurements," stuff like that. I keep waiting for someone refer to a wild animal as afab or amab.

"afab" is not synonymous with "has a uterus" or "has two X chromosomes," intersex people with XY chromosomes can have an F on their birth certificate.

If you're talking about something biological it's fine to just say "male" or "female" in contexts where that makes more sense.

[lavenoon]

Morning (over there at least XD)! I come with a very crucial question! We know that reverse roles Dawn at first is very unamused with Robin's banter at first and doesn't indulge them, because he's much more no nonsense at his job. But I imagine it evolves a little as they work together, but before he starts flirting. If Dusk's brand of banter are the bird puns, teasing, and friendly but intense competition, what would be Dawn's brand?

Goood morning, I rise!

Dawn continues to make things harder for his future self. The first time they met, getting the introductions out of the way, he may have come to the same conclusion that Dusk got to

"A robin, really?" "The Robin. Robin Hood." "Ah, of course. A thief makes for a much better code name."

All while smiling sweetly in his usual tone, and of course Robin immediately felt patronized and decided there's beef to be had.

But he likes the little thievery comments! He sees they're good at that, and yet, for some reason, they always get a reaction (it's mostly because it's Dawn saying them), so he hardly has any motivation to stop.

In calmer moment, they may gossip about targets or other bystanders at events they attend undercover, it's a weird little truce where they don't taunt each other but other people together for a change. If Robin paid more attention then, they'd notice that Dawn's comments are much more scathing when directed at those other people, but alas, they are oblivious

And the competition is still there! Robin still is the driving force behind that, and where Dusk cares a reasonable amount about not being outdone, Dawn is proud, so we have two idiots who just push themselves again and again to show off and be better, hence the higher ups going "So whatever you're doing, we're not touching that. But we are gonna assign you partner missions because you're scarily efficient when you're together" and then called it a day

So, on paper it's a pretty similar dynamic! Thievery jabs, teasing, competition - just that all of them are received differently, and the teasing and competition feels much more serious to Robin due to Dawn's everything. Not even the flirting gets him out of that little predicament, unfortunately </3

[koushisatori]

if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us

kyoutani x gn!reader

genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort

warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication

word count: 5.4k

note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)

In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you

You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you

He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury

Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary

Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship

cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you

So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely

But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,

on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,

Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!

So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday

Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them

You don't get a second alone with him until school ends

you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance

There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit

he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return

''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him

''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''

''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features

all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag

''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you

You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''

''Tsk'', he moves to leave

you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket

from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)

once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )

Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause

you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes

Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)

If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer

Which is easier said than done

The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning

you still had hope left

You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off

The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system

It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved

as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship

that's the conclusion your brain came up with

You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself

knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series

once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping

you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)

In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)

after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips

he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him

(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)

Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions

after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)

If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful

Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown

Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]

For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…

The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you

break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now

so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type

You: No.

You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?

You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn

Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?

Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.

''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.

Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.

While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.

The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.

His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.

''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.

After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?

What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.

After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.

From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year

Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.

Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.

At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.

Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.

There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.

Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.

To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.

She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-

''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.

''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.

After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.

All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.

After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.

For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.

It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.

You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''

As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.

''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''

Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.

''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.

Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.

You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.

''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.

Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.

''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.

Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.

[eliemo]

What's Important to Me is You

Summary: Roman just wants Logan to hear him. Logan just wants Roman to listen to him. It seems all they’ve managed to do is hurt each other.

Or: Roman knows he talks a lot. He didn't realize Logan never understood he wasn't being ignored on purpose.

Notes: I have a lot of Logan angst planned but that asides killed me and I just need them to Talk To Each Other Please

Roman knew he talked a lot.

He figured it counted for something that he was at least self aware. He wasn’t always the most conscious of it, delving into his own thoughts and ideas without warning, and his own boisterous voice often drowned out everyone else's, but it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose!

He had a problem with interrupting the other sides, he knew he did. He was working on it.

He wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just...hard for him to control himself, especially when he was excited. Roman talked loudly even when he was trying to be quiet, and being the embodiment of creativity meant he didn’t exactly have a lot of impulse control.

Roman’s brain was loud. His thoughts were like a flood, idea after idea piling up and begging to be shared, his voice booming to be heard over his own head. He was trying to be better, but a part of him was almost afraid to be quiet. He didn’t know what to do if he couldn’t be heard.

He needed to be heard. He needed to voice his thoughts and share his ideas. He was Creativity. He needed to do his job.

He needed to be good.

It was probably counterproductive that the person he wanted to impress the most, the Side he craved validation from most of all, was Logan, when Roman ended up interrupting Logic more than anyone else.

He liked hearing Logan talk, even if half of it was contradicting Roman’s ideas, and half of it went right over the creative side’s head.

But Thomas wasn't a very logical person. Sometimes his creativity tended to overshadow the voice of reason. Logan didn’t like Roman’s ideas, deeming them implausible and unrealistic, which only drove Roman to talk more, to try over and over again to get Logan to listen.

They bickered, Roman tended to talk over and interrupt Logan, but there was no malice behind it. They both knew Roman did his best to control his outbursts, but sometimes silencing creativity was impossible.

At least...Roman had thought that had been the understanding.

He and Logan were arguing again, butting heads over Thomas’s plans for next week. Roman was distantly aware he kept interrupting, kept using his volume to talk over the logical side, but being aware didn’t always mean he could stop it.

Besides, this was how they worked things out. They would bicker for a few minutes, Roman would keep interrupting until he was done and then Logan would inevitably work out some kind of compromise Roman could settle with.

“You’re not listening, Pencil Head,” Roman said, despite being unable to remember a single point Logan had made in the last ten minutes. “Your schedule is boring. Thomas won’t have any free time for brainstorming or relaxing or anything that will help us come up with new ideas!”

“Roman—”

“My schedule on the other hand,” Roman continued over him. “Will let Thomas actually enjoy himself! Free time will get his creative juices flowing and I can come up with a video idea.”

“Your schedule is practically nonexistent. Thomas cannot just ignore his—”

“He can get your things done some other time,” Roman kept going. That was another thing he was trying to work on- once he started talking it was hard for him to stop. “Or he won’t. Thomas is fine. Who cares if a few things don’t get checked off your checklist.”

“I—”

“Besides, my schedule will be much more—”

“Roman,” Logan snapped, almost a yell, overpowering the Prince for the first time. “I understand that you hate me but for once could you just listen?”

Well that was one way to get Roman to stop talking.

The Prince froze, the rest of his argument dying in his throat as he stared at the logical side, eyes wide, mouth still open as his voice was effectively silenced all at once.

Logan seemed to be struggling to get ahold of himself, the anger fading from his eyes as quickly as it had appeared, face falling in a way that made him look almost small, quiet and resigned.

Roman swallowed, forcing himself to quiet down as much as he could before responding. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Logan said, back to being stoic, emotionless Logic. “I just need to get my point across and then I can leave.”

Roman’s brow furrowed, hands fiddling uselessly in his lap. “I don’t hate you, Logan.”

“Alright,” Logan said. It didn’t sound like he believed him. “I apologize for snapping at you. I can leave.”

Roman’s chest felt heavy, guilt, panic, confusion waging war, and his throat tightened unbearably at the heartbreak in Logan’s voice.

“I… don’t.” Roman didn’t even have to force it this time, his voice barely a whisper. “You think I hate you?”

Logan flashed the Prince a look that made his blood run cold. “You are not exactly subtle about it.”

“I don’t—”

“I’m not angry with you,” Logan said, and he just sounded so… tired. “It’s fine, Roman. I should not have said anything about it.”

“Logan,” Roman tried, almost desperate. “I don’t hate you at all.”

Roman’s heart ached at the blatant confusion and distrust on Logan’s face, the logical side refusing to meet the Prince’s eyes.

“You… do act like it sometimes,” Logan said quietly. “I am aware you believe I do more harm than good. And… and maybe you’re correct, but—”

“I don’t,” Roman insisted. “You do so much good, Lo. Thomas wouldn’t be functional without you! I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”

Logan shifted uncomfortably, reaching up to adjust his tie. “Well you… prefer not to have me around then. Which is fine, I understand that I—”

“No, I do,” Roman said, and he knew he was just interrupting Logan again but he needed him to understand. He needed him to see he’d gotten it all wrong. “Of course I want you around!”

“Right,” Logan muttered, fixing his glasses. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Roman didn’t know what to do. How long had this been going on? How long had he been making Logan feel this way? “I don’t know how to convince you, I… I had no idea.”

Logan slipped his hands under his glasses, rubbing at his eyes before dropping his elbows to the table, holding his face in his hands. Roman hadn’t… realized how exhausted he looked. He hadn’t been paying attention.

“You can continue with what you were saying,” Logan said, not lifting his head from his hands. “My apologies for interrupting.”

Roman couldn't even remember what he’d been saying. He barely remembered what they’d been arguing about. “Um… what were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” Logan said. “It’s not important.”

“I’d like to know.”

Logan sighed, slowly lifting his head and adjusting his glasses again. “Why?”

“Because I want to listen,” Roman said, keeping his voice soft. “And I’m… sorry I haven’t been.”

“No, it’s alright.” Logan still sounded confused and unconvinced, but...it was a start. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay,” Roman assured. “I’m sorry I was talking over you.”

“It’s… alright.”

Roman hesitated, wringing his hands together. “If… if you want to talk now I’ll listen.”

Logan straightened, stiff and almost completely unmoving, jaw clenched tight. “Maybe it would be better to take a break.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “Alright.”

“I... apologize if I offended you.”

“You didn’t,” Roman promised. “I really do want to hear your ideas, Lo. I didn’t mean to shut you down like that.”

Logan glanced at him, and Roman’s heart broke at the wariness in his eyes, like he wasn’t certain Roman meant anything he was saying.

But the logical side folded his hands neatly in his lap and cleared his throat, clearly fighting to compose himself again.

“I had worked out a schedule for the next few weeks,” Logan explained. If Roman hadn’t been listening so closely, he probably would have missed the barely audible tremble to Logan’s voice. “I arranged it so Thomas could… could have time to get his chores and work finished while- while still having t-time to—”

Logan’s voice broke, and he immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. He turned away from Roman, but not before the Prince caught sight of the tears quickly gathering in his eyes.

“Oh, Logan—”

“I’m sorry,” Logan said quickly, voice wobbling as he wiped furiously at his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Roman was frozen, torn between wanting to reach out and give Logan his space. “I- I don’t… know how to fix this.”

Logan took a shaky breath, still turned away. “There is nothing to fix.”

“There is,” Roman argued. “I’m hurting you.”

“I’m just being ridiculous, we can step away and pretend this never happened.”

“No, Logan.” He took a risk and moved to place a hand on Logan’s arm, pulling away when the logical side jumped like he’d been electrocuted. “That’s not… we can’t do that.”

Logan hesitated, still staring down at his hands. “I’m not angry with you.”

“You can be.”

“That would be unreasonable,” Logan insisted. “I simply misunderstood your intentions. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roman said. “You’re important, and I made you feel like you weren’t. I had no idea you felt this way.”

Logan reached up to pull at his tie again, tugging at his collar. “I don’t… need to be pitied, Roman. If I’m not important, then—”

“You are,” Roman said, and then immediately backtracked. “I’m- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for interrupting but you are. You are so important, Lo.”

“I…” he hesitated, shoulders impossibly tense. “Am trying to be.”

“You are.” Roman lowered his hand to touch Logan’s arm again, and this time Logic didn’t flinch. “I don’t know how to help. Tell me what you need.”

Logan shrugged, taking a steadying breath. “I would… like to be your friend. I know that is unrealistic, but… perhaps someday. If you’re open to it.”

And Roman… Roman was dangerously close to bursting into tears himself. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, tightening his gentle hold on Logan’s arm.

“Logan,” he said, voice still nothing but a pained whisper. “You are my friend. We… we’re friends, Logan.”

Logan’s head snapped up, and the surprise on his face was what finally made Roman’s eyes fill with tears. “I am?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Oh.” Logan’s gaze dropped back to his lap. “Then I’m… sorry for assuming we were not.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sorry I… I didn’t make it more clear.”

Logan nodded, more to himself than to Roman. “I will… attempt to do better from now on.”

“You don’t need to be better,” Roman said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should have known you didn’t hate me.” Logan finally met his eyes, red and watery. “I’m sorry, Roman.”

“I…” Roman hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I must have done something to make you think that.”

Logan was still fiddling incessantly with his tie, either a nervous tick or a desperate attempt to ground himself, looking away once again.

“You… tend to talk over and ignore me,” Logan said, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m aware you get excited but it is a constant with me. I assumed you found me irrelevant. I understood that you’d prefer it if I was gone.”

“No, that’s… no, Logan.” Roman was definitely crying now, brushing away his tears and scooting closer. “That’s not it at all. Of course I want you here.”

“I… know.” Logan still didn’t sound completely convinced. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“I mean it,” Roman said. “I know I… talk over you guys sometimes. I’m working on it, I promise I just… I want you to like my ideas so bad, Teach.”

Roman laughed, bitter and humorless, guilt clawing at his throat. “I get so determined to get you to listen, and I get so excited when you do so I… forget. I forgot to listen and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not fair to you but I… I had no idea. I didn’t know I was making you feel like this.”

“Oh.” Logan’s hands finally dropped from his tie back down to his lap. “I… do enjoy hearing your thoughts. I always have.”

Roman swallowed, his breathing still shaky. “That’s… thank you.”

“I suppose I… also owe you an apology,” Logan said, continuing before Roman could object. “I could have made more of an effort to show my admiration for your work.”

“I… Logan, you don’t need to—”

“Your ideas may not always be realistic,” Logan added, making Roman crack a smile. “But you’re passionate and intelligent and I enjoy working through them with you. Thomas wouldn’t be where he is without you, Roman.”

Roman felt light, his chest loosening, like a weight on his shoulders he hadn’t even known was there was just lifted.

Maybe it was just Logan, looking at him so earnestly, acknowledging Roman’s importance. The knowledge that Logan really did see him, listened to him was…

Oh.

They should have had this conversation a long time ago.

“Thank you,” Roman said. “And… and you too, Logan. Really. I think you’re incredible and I just… I know I’m not great at listening. I’m working on it but it’s just… you’re important too, Lo. None of us would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Logan cleared his throat, quickly blinking away and stray tears. “I- I really do appreciate that. Thank you.”

His voice sounded much less strained, and Roman’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Of course. I’m… gonna try harder to listen. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Logan met Roman’s eyes again, sending the Prince a small but genuine smile. Roman’s heart practically soared. “And I will make more of an effort to not completely brush aside your ideas. I know I can be a bit harsh.”

Roman just shrugged. “You’re just doing your job.”

“As are you,” Logan said. “And you deserve to be listened to.”

roman reached across the table to take Logan’s hand, grinning when the other side didn’t pull away, letting the Prince lace their fingers together and gently squeeze.

“We’ll work on listening to each other, then,” Roman said. “For now, how about we take a break and get something to eat?”

“That would be acceptable.”

Roman’s smile widened, tightening his hold as he guided them both to their feet and led them away from the table littered with discarded papers.

They didn’t let go of each other’s hands the whole way to the kitchen.

[princeblack]

It startles him a little each time, the way she talks about him. To Bee, he isn’t just a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, ancient Pureblood royalty with status and money to show it off. She talks about him like he’s just another person, not something to gossip about like the rest of the school. Ernie Macmillan once said that Regulus was only ahead of the class because he was a secret minion of You-Know-Who, along with the rest of the Black family ‘and that Sirius Black in Azkaban’. It was true to an extent, but what Ernie didn’t understand is that Regulus isn’t a threat to him or the school, instead wanting to follow the Dark Lord’s greatness to protect their world and make it better. But what would Ernie know about that, when his family didn’t care about mixing with the muggle world? Regulus is used to being misunderstood, gossiped about and envied. He’s used to turning heads in the corridors, making girls and boys alike watch him. But what he isn’t used to are Bee’s gentle blue eyes, gazing past every surface level he has and into his very soul, as if she can see everything that’s there and she cherishes him for it anyway. He’s never felt so safe… comfortable. And it should be ‘wrong’, according to his mother. 

“Your father is missing out, too,” he points out gently. “Maybe it doesn’t seem like it because you look up to him, but he’s a fool. You’re the most interesting and beautiful girl at Hogwarts… everyone knows it and he should be proud.” He looks away, green eyes sparkling with a sort of sadness for their lost time. He wishes he hadn’t wasted so much of it settling for Daphne all to impress his mother, afraid that Bee wouldn’t want him. How could she, when her house mates like Ernie talked so poorly of him? He never understood why people were so rash to think the Dark Lord was completely evil, as if people usually worked like that. All Regulus knew was his family, and they looked up to the wizard, praising his ideas about keeping them safe from muggles and protecting their family power. Regulus never thought of power as bad— their magic was sacred; something to cherish and be respected. When so many of their ancestors were lost in the witch hunts, it was all he could do to help make sure that never happened again. But how, he wasn’t so sure anymore… Bee’s mother deserved to be in their world just like she did, so what was the answer? If Voldemort lead them, would he protect them from the dangers of muggles that feared them? Or would he kill every last muggleborn, like Emma Diggory? The thought hurts him even more than the thought he’s unworthy of Bee, just like Ernie seems to think.

“I’m not saying Cedric isn’t great, but you underestimate how special you are. Do you even know how many people want you? Even other boys in Slytherin…” Sure, Bee is the quirky girl who is obsessed with creatures, but she’s also the hottest in the school and everyone seems to notice. Regulus can’t blame them, but he does get jealous, wishing he could shut them up because she’s only his. Even if she doesn’t know it yet. “Of course, I’d hex them if they tried to be with you…” He pouts a little, thinking about Dean again. “You don’t understand how much I had to hold myself back from hurting your ex– he didn’t even know what your allergies were.” It brings a disconcerted frown to his lips, hating that she was anything less than worshiped by that idiot.

One thing bothers him about what she says… about how he doesn’t need his family truly, and blood isn’t everything. He’s done everything for them and it’s almost impossible to imagine not having them in his life– what would it be like, for his mother to hate him so much she burned his face from her wall? Even the thought made his chest ache, tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t want to be alone… And Bee deserved more than to deal with him, a Death Eater, when she had so much life ahead of her that wasn’t tied up in a cult or an old, complicated family like his. “I’m top of my class and a Prefect and still don’t have peoples’ love, really… I’m not even sure my own girlfriend likes me. I’m just a tool for them, maybe with a pretty face. What if I have no one in the end, without my mother and father?” His chest aches because he wants her to say she’ll be there for him; love him. But he knows how much of an ask that is, especially when she doesn’t know the full story. Hell, he was fake, too– fake to Daphne, and everyone around him but Bee. How could he expect anything from others besides what he gave them?

The fact she cares enough to wish happiness for him should be enough; that the most beautiful girl in his world wants him to be happy. But it’s not. He needs her in ways he never could’ve anticipated… It’s a desire he can’t ignore any longer, regardless of what he’s doing to Daphne because of that. Maybe he doesn’t deserve anyone, with the way he’s been acting, but he doesn’t care. His heart wants what it wants, and if Bee wanted him too, why couldn’t he have her?

“They’ve been talking about you?” Regulus asks, brows furrowing because even the thought of Pansy and Daphne speaking about Bee makes him angry. “Saying what things, exactly? Is it because of me?” His special treatment towards the Diggory was obvious, with it being apparent to probably everyone in the school how badly he wants her. What he doesn’t expect is for it to have hurt her, seeing him kiss Daphne. He was so sure she had moved on from him, and yet watching her with Dean had ripped his heart from his chest. “I didn’t know that it was hurting you,” he says honestly. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He frowns, hating that he did and hating himself for it. “But my heart was broken, thinking you didn’t care…”

Only Bee could feel sorry for Mrs. Norris like he did– another reason why it felt like they were meant to be. Why was everyone else so determined to hate the cat because of Filch’s actions? “I wish you would do that for me… Maybe I’ll become an animagus and hope that my form is a cat. I would rather lounge in your lap and be fed sardines the rest of my life than face the rest of the world.” He wishes he could hide away with her; his only real safe space. If that’s even what she wants with him, after all of this.      

She looks beautiful, how he walks to the railing and tilts her head back, immediately looking at the stars overhead. Hogwarts is the most beautiful place on Earth, with a view of the sky and mountains that was unbeatable. The Forbidden Forest is something special; so special that he’s always loved breaking the rules to visit it with Bee. “I think about it, too… Being alone with you, especially up here. The view is almost as beautiful as you are.” He smiles at her a little softly, walking up to stand beside her next to the railing. “Hermione seems to have forgiven me for that… Maybe it had something to do with my perfect grades, or when I rescued her and her friends from Draco. But I still haven’t forgiven her for interrupting the best kiss of my life.” He looks at Bee up and down almost shyly, stepping towards her. “That day on the train is my best memory.” He felt safe; happy, in love… all with the incredible girl he’d just met.

before regulus she lived a pretty lonely little life, sure she had her childhood friend luna and her brother cedric, a mother who loved her but something always felt like it was missing....like a dark hole inside of her that could not be filled with boys like dean or trying to get the approval of her stubborn father. it's not that regulus defines her life, she's learned the hard way that she can live without him but living without him was a darkness she never knew, everyday aching in her chest watching him be with someone else even if it wasn't technically his choice he was still holding the hand of a girl who wasn't bee, who could never love him to his fullest the way she did. it makes her feel sick inside the more she thinks about it...she never knew what being in love exactly meant until now.

love was beautiful and refreshing, it was a feeling greater than all the stars in the sky, it was aching and pain when you couldn't be near them. it was seeing the best in someone even if he didn't always see it within himself. she saw the world in regulus black, he was more than just his namesake, more than the blood that flows through him. he was the sweetest most sensitive and smart boy she's ever met, he taught her so much not just educational like potions but he taught her how to truly feel a genuine sense of happiness, slowly but surely she was becoming more comfortable in her own skin, enough to tell him every little thing that was on her mind even if it wasn't the most flattering thing to hear.

her eyes soften as he talks about his family, how it makes him feel and it's one of the things she understands most about him. though she figures his situation is a little more extreme than hers, it's already hard having a family who expects so much of you but to have awful rumors about you and your family going around the school like being a death eater...even if he was, she knew it wasn't really his choice, none of this was. he was just too good to say no, too naive to an extent. "they're missing out...their selfishness keeps them from discovering what an amazing son they have. " she says softly. "my dad always expects me to be like cedric, at least be as good as him...he's never been proud of me, not since I was a child and I know how much it hurts but if the cost of happiness is losing your family than they were never truly family. it's not only about blood you know?" she bites down on her lip, hoping she didn't overstep too much but she just wishes he would let himself be free, partly selfishly so he would love her but mostly because she sees so much in him that he wont set free because of his parents. "astoria got lucky to have a dad who loves her so much, I almost envy her for it..." she laughs sadly, even though astoria didn't really agree with her father he still cared deeply for his child, sometimes bee wonders if amos would ever feel the same. she frowns a little when he says he's still scared, squeezing his hand gently. "I just want you to be happy regulus..."

daphne seemed so proud to be near regulus but it wasn't for the right reasons...bee tried not to be hateful, she tried to be understanding of even the most unlikeable of people like regulus's cousin draco, who seemed more concerned with making his family proud than letting himself form his own outlook on life. he wasn't a bad person, he just seemed, confused...butt bee struggles to find that same grace for the males girlfriend, maybe it's jealousy but something about the blonde rubbed her the wrong way. she wasn't like regulus or astoria who seemed more like victims of their up bringing, if anything she truly seemed proud of who she was and where she came from. "it doesn't make it hurt any less seeing you with her...seeing you kiss her and have her knowing you were hers. I hated it so much and I guess it doesn't help that she and pansy have apparently been talking about me." she shrugs, shaking her head a little.

after kissing him on the lips regulus leads her out of the dungeon and towards their special place in the astronomy tower. it was her second favorite place in the school after the greenhouse, it's often where the pair would meet just to get away from the world because students didn't often use it unless it was during class hours. she holds his hand tight as they walk despite it being past curfew by now. just as they're about to take another step mrs.norris is standing there, looking up at them with her eyes. that poor cat, bee would be rather grumpy too if her owner was a grumpy old man with an unhealthy obsession with punishing teenagers...still, bee wishes she could befriend the poor kitty. but before she can think about it too long regulus is tugging her back, pressing her against the wall as their hands still interlock. she holds her breath without really thinking of it, eyes closing as his warm breath brushings against her ear whispering a spell inside as the pair go invisible for a moment and foot steps of the old man come closer, muttering something to his cat as bee leans into regulus a little looking for comfort as her heart pounds, hoping mrs.norris doesn't tip off the squib. eventually the footsteps get quieter as he walks away, the cat not fair behind leaving the pair to get away with their sneaking around.

it's like he reads her mind, showing pity for the kitty as he jokes about her needing a raise. "sometimes I wish I could whisk her away and give her all the belly scratches and sardine's her little heart desires, poor thing." bee says softly, smiling up at him as they approach the winding steps. she misses his hand when he lets go but she walks ahead to reach the top of the tower, the cold night wind brushing against her exposed skin as the fresh air and smell of wood makes her feel a little more comfortable, it has become a bit of a safe place for her and a good alternative outside of the smoke filled party.

she walks over to the railing, tilting her head up to look at the stars in the sky tonight, they were so beautiful especially when it was so quiet out tonight. "it's so beautiful up here at night." she says softly, smiling a bit as she looks over at regulus for a moment before looking back at the sky. "you know, it sounds silly but I always look forward to being up here with you...it's like my favorite thing in the world. I thought about it all summer...no daphne or dean, no classes to worry about. just you and me, alone...like the first day we met other than hermione of course." she laughs at the embarrassing part of that memory, when the frizzy haired girl interrupted her perfect kiss. "I sometimes still look over my shoulder to see if she's lurking, ready to ruin my perfect moments with you."

[yoonpobs]

we don't talk together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, growth! exes that remain exes

words: 2, 842

summary: it's hard to say it's over

What they don't tell you about goodbyes is that it isn't the end.

It's far from the closing of a book. Goodbyes are the itch that urges you to pick up an old book from the shelf just to feel what you first felt when you re-read certain parts of a book; the same remorse you felt when a character you grew attached to didn't get the ending they deserved. Or, maybe it was the villain that was misunderstood—your own heart wishing to reach out to the sad soul that couldn't even be recognised when all they do is speak.

But some books will end up dusty, forgotten, tucked away in the corner of your shelf; or in the most drastic of cases: lost.

"The park looks ... different," Yoongi speaks up for a lack of a better conversation starter.

You hum. What would you say? That it wasn't the same from when we used to spend our Spring's blended into Summer's until it got too hot for us to lay in each other's embrace?

It was still too fresh even though it's been nearly a year.

"There are more dogs," You point out the moment a tan pomeranian runs past the two of you, the owner an old couple laughing away under the cherry blossoms.

He nods, fingers stuffed in his trench coat. You note that it's the same one he wore on your anniversary, plans abandoned when there was a mix-up with the reservations until the two of you stumbled across a hidden gem that soon became your go-to date place.

You will yourself to look away so no more memories can resurface. It seems like every part of your life has somehow seamlessly intertwined itself with traces of Yoongi that it was impossible for you to exist as just yourself.

"How are things at the firm?" He asks after the two of you walked side-by-side in complete silence as more and more chatter fill your ears.

"It's ... going," You chuckle dryly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, shooting you a brief glance over until the two of you reach a bench. You dare say it's muscle memory that dragged your heavy feet into the direction of the only bench that you've known in the park. The compressed reminder of the initials of your names that you carved as teenagers likely still staining the years old wood. It was meant to be an emblem for wisdom, the ring of growth that meant to be the endgame for the two of you.

You almost laugh in bitterness and how literal the metaphor was.

"Everything okay?"

Yoongi takes the first step to sit on the bench because he always did. Ever the gentlemen when he opened doors for you, let you into the car first, waited until you stepped ahead of him to trail behind like a shield.

The first date, first kiss, first confession.

The first one to decide that it was over.

"My boss is just being sexist, as usual. I thought I'd get used to it after spending two years there but ... there are some things that you just stay unfamiliar, you know?"

It was very like you to speak in double-entendres without intending to. But it was also like Yoongi to pick up on it, especially after years of learning all the best and worst parts of you; he was and probably will be one of the few people in your lives that will always foresee your next move.

The two of you sit a fair distance apart on the bench even if it was a battle for space anyway. You didn't have the liberty to lean into his embrace anymore and he wasn't in the position to say that it was okay for you to breathe, to relax.

"You shouldn't get used to those remarks. There are times where you learn to grow used to constructive criticism but if what he's saying makes you question your worth because of very arbitrary reasons like your gender then that isn't criticism, nor is it constructive. It's bigoted and chauvinistic."

You look down to your thumbs as you fiddle with it, his words comforting you. It was woeful that you still chased validation from him even after learning to be that person to yourself.

"Yeah, I guess."

Then how did you get used to things?

If time didn't make things familiar then what did? Was it not the five years with Yoongi that led you to see him build an empire for himself all the while destroying the relationship that you had? Or was it because he was the person that you thought of doing the most minuscule things?

"By the way," He clears his throat, eyes still set forward, "Namjoon says hi."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised to hear the name of a mutual friend—or more appropriately, friend by association and acquaintance when that link was broken.

"He knows that you're with me?"

Yoongi nods his head.

"I needed to let someone at the studio know and ... well, he's the only one that knew of our situation."

You chuckle bitterly.

Of course. The suggestion of his work only made your heart drop because as much as you wanted to be supportive of him, even after the break-up, the name of his studio or songs only reminded you of the battle that you helplessly lost.

"You can tell him that I'm still a text or phone call away. No need to play messenger," You return.

The atmosphere is more reflective than awkward. You know that the two of you had your pieces to say, your own narrative to tell but neither brave enough to break the calm that you were settled in. It was a nice difference from the way that things ended, and you supposed that you were similar enough to believe in a mirage than the inevitable truth.

But you didn't call him out after six months to sit in silence to walk away with your heart feeling heavier, nor did you invite him out just to remember what it feels like to have him next to you—even in complete silence.

"Would you have really quit?"

This time, you gather all the bravery that you've built over the past few months to ask the question that has been mulling in your mind since the night you decided that it was officially over.

It was a painful break-up. Even if you expected it when Yoongi came home earlier one night with bags under his eyes and his keys that he usually left at the studio because he knew you'd always be home to open the door for him.

"I'm sorry?" He seems taken aback.

You don't blame him. You've always been more passive in dealing with confrontation due to your conflict-averse nature—but that didn't mean you didn't get angry or annoyed—or hurt. But if you learned anything, it was to stop asking yourself questions that you'll never have the answer to.

"Would you really have left the company to save our relationship?"

You chose your words carefully. Instead of saying to be with you, knowing that he lost the love, he had for you somewhere along the way—you point out the one hole that he held on to for the sake of stability. The one thing that was constant in his life with how unpredictable the music industry was.

"Yes."

Somehow, the answer doesn't make you feel better because even with time apart you knew he was lying to save your face.

"You don't owe me anything to lie to my face, Yoongi." You frown.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his hands across his face as he leaves your statement hanging in the air to mull over his answer.

You prefer the silence that way. It showed that he was at least listening, or cared enough to decide his next set of words. Nothing like how much it pained you to acknowledge the responses you got from him when you were crying were just out of obligation than sincerity.

"No, I wouldn't have."

You nod your head, expectant of the answer but you needed to hear him say it himself rather than drowning yourself in ruminating thoughts of how there was still a semblance of hope that he would've given it up for you, for your relationship—or the life that you were meant to build.

"I wouldn't have asked you to, anyway." You confess.

Yoongi turns his head to look at you and for the first time since you've met at the park, he notices the absence of a necklace around your neck. The necklace that you never took off. He wants to comment on it, ask where it went or if you've pawned it off out of pettiness but he held no remorse towards you. You were tolerant with the break-up even as you sucked in your tears when he knew that it killed you on the inside. Yoongi didn't have the heart in him to ask you.

"Oh."

"You were the one that said you'd quit so we could stay together," You say softly.

Yoongi doesn't respond as he looks back to the night where the two of you sat down to talk about the standing of your relationship. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that started off with an amicable discussion that eventually led to the two of you yelling until you surrendered to your tears and just left the battle completely.

He said a lot of things that night. From things that he's been bottling up for months, to things that he's always wanted to tell you and things that he didn't remotely mean, and things that he's regretted the moment it left his lips.

"I guess I did."

You sigh, leaning back into the bench as you observe a couple walking in front of you, passing your bench as they share an ice cream on a cone; bickering on who'd get the first lick. To anyone, you and Yoongi would've looked just like a couple that has reached a comfortable point in your relationship where intimacy was just sitting next to one another.

But you admit, there was something oddly intimate and heart-breaking about sitting next to someone you've loved with your whole heart and feel nothing but ... weightlessness. Like the burden of your concerns was lifted ever so slightly just being here.

"I wouldn't have made you choose between your relationship or your dream, Yoongi. I would never have done that to you."

Yoongi knew you would never have made him do something as abhorrent as that. You were far too understanding. But you had wanted from him too, that he wasn't willing to provide just yet. He didn't know if it was because of the expiration date to your relationship or because of the stress he was under at work—but he convinced himself that it was you that was asking for too much instead of him compromising too little.

"I ... I know," He whispers, "I'm sorry."

You purse your lips. You try not to let your emotions appear on your sleeve. You were tired of allowing your face to speak before you did. You needed to use the voice you had.

"I loved you so much, Yoongi," You murmur, "I loved you so much that I would have taken anything I could've gotten with you just so I could be with you."

Yoongi stays silent at this.

"I didn't mind if you spent more time at work than at our home. I just wanted to know if I was ever in the picture when you were talking about the future. I know how much you love music and I supported you through every audition and failure ... and to know that I was just—" You swallow, the words still painful to say. But you needed to make your peace with it, "—that I was just someone that would wait for you instead of your partner. That's when I knew that you didn't love me the way I loved you."

Yoongi chokes to speak up but you shake your head.

"No, Yoongi. You loved me, you did. But somewhere along the way you stopped and you just pretended that we were okay even when I was trying my best to fix the seams. I wasn't your girlfriend anymore, I was just someone familiar to you and I didn't deserve to feel that way." You tell him sternly.

Yoongi surrenders to his silence as you take a deep breath to continue.

"Maybe I loved you too much in a way that you couldn't understand."

"_______, don't say that—" His eyes widen when he tries to reach a hand to yours to comfort you, but your body language remains stoic as you keep your hands in your lap.

"—and that's okay Yoongi. I loved you but not in the way you needed. I'm not here to make you feel bad about what I chose to do on my own because it wasn't my fault that I couldn't be what you need." You say sadly, but a small smile on your face as you finally say the words that have been eating at you for months.

"... okay," Yoongi accepts.

"We all have different ways to love and be loved. I loved you and that was enough for you at one point but love isn't all a relationship needs. You loved me too, in your own way and I accepted that but just because it was enough for me doesn't mean it was enough for us." You glance over at him to see him staring at you intently.

"I'm sorry that things turned out this way," Yoongi says softly, eyes gentle.

You wave him off.

"I don't think I'll ever love someone as much as I loved you, though," He confesses, eyes returning to the scene in front of him filled with different colours of life that seemed to look vibrant under the Spring sunset.

You shake your head and chuckle softly.

"You say that now but you'll meet someone one day and you'll remember all the reasons why you love in the first place. And it'll be enough for you, and them."

He shrugs, a small smile itching on his face.

"I really did love you," He says, "But I'm sorry for not being honest with you. I owe you that much of an apology."

"We're not here to forgive or forget, Yoongi," You look at him kindly, "We're here to move on."

He purses his lips and hums, nodding his head.

"I hope you get that promotion at work you were talking about months ago, ______." Yoongi offers, a gentle grin marring his face.

"I did," You shrug.

It feels liberating to have achieved something and only feeling content by acknowledging it yourself. Months ago, you would've hurt at the fact that Yoongi didn't know. But the change you welcomed after the end only showed you that there was a new path for you to walk on.

His eyes widen, but eventually, he chuckles and shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like knew it.

You push yourself off the bench, dusting your hands on your pants as you offer him one last smile before you say goodbye for the second time.

"I hope you find someone who you'll love more than you ever did with me." You tease.

He rolls his eyes.

"Impossible," The grin on his face is easy, and your heart still clenches at the nonchalance, but you don't expect the feeling to go away so easily—nor do you mind. It just shows that you needed to wait and that you were willing to do it.

"Of course you will. You're a musician, Yoongi. You need a muse," You smirk at him as you turn around, a small wave on your hand to say goodbye.

As you walk away and his body gets smaller and smaller from your vision, you turn around to say:

"We don't talk together is a beautiful song."

Yoongi's smile is genuine, and so is his goodbye. A gentle acknowledgment of his hand as he stands up himself, walking to the other direction of where you were headed.

You still had a love for Yoongi, and you suppose you always will. Just like how you would feel pleasant when rediscovering a childhood hobby that triggers a fond memory, or how you love different things in your life in different ways. Whether or not you love someone more than you've ever loved Yoongi isn't your concern, because when love comes in one form, it goes in another.

When you still take the same route you'd usually take with Yoongi after your walks back home, you pass the cafe you used to frequent to see that it's replaced with a new bar. You smile fondly to yourself, shaking your head.

You loved that place.

But eventually, you'll find another cafe with a beautiful interior and a latte to match, and you'll love it too.

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Jealous | Draco Malfoy (prompt request)

Request: yes, by anon. Anon requested the following: Hiii! Could I please request a Draco Malfoy x reader with prompts 5,14,15 ? Fluffy 🥺🥺with a hint of angst if you can X)

Word count: 3,342

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader

Note: My requests are still open, but before you request from the prompt list, please check out the updated version. Thank you so much!

Draco Malfoy was a little bit possessive when I came to his group of friends. He had troubles with trusting someone, and getting attached to them, but when he did, all his insecurities came out. His trust issues were paired with the constant fear of losing those people, but instead of telling them how he felt, he chose the easier way and hid his feelings and fears behind the mask of an arrogant son of a bitch. He was overprotective, but supportive, jealous and hot-headed, and on top of them, stubborn as hell. Only a few people were willing to give him enough time to prove that he was actually a nice person, who was only misunderstood and troubled when it came to talking about feelings or letting his guards down. He was popular, but not for what he really was. He was well-known for being a bully, an arrogant twat, an overdramatic troublemaker and the biggest hater of mudbloods. Only his closest friends knew the real Draco Lucius Malfoy, and he was fine by that. He always thought quality was way more important than quantity. He might have thought of himself as someone who was hard to read, but in reality, it wasn’t that hard. Not for Theodore Nott. Theo was his third closest friend, being behind only Y/N Y/L/N and Blaise Zabini. While Draco went to Blaise for the fun things, like pranking the Golden Trio, throwing a secret party in the Room of Requirements or just chilling somewhere with a bottle of Fire Whiskey, he chose Theo for be his emotional support and moral compass. And he gladly took up this role, especially because he had a gut feeling that his dear friend developed deeper and more serious feelings towards their one and only Miss Y/L/N.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Theo asked Draco one day, when they were sitting in their Common Room, working on a DADA project together. Theo found him staring and smiling at Y/N, who was sitting at the other side of the room with her friends, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, doing each other’s hair and makeup. The girls told them in the morning that they were tired of only wearing their uniforms and boring hairstyles, and they wanted to look like themselves again. The boys didn’t understand them, but they came up with the sad excuse of having too much homework and studying, so they didn’t have to participate in their afternoon program. 

“What?” Draco asked him, but never turned his gaze away from the girl, who was sitting on the ground in front of Pansy, getting her hair curled. Theo chuckled and turned his attention to their friends as well. He saw why Malfoy was so fascinated by her. Y/N was one of the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts, if not the most. Her hair was always shiny, her makeup natural but immaculate. She had an amazing style and she always smelt like jasmine and vanilla. But it was her smile that so many boys fell for. It was beautiful and bright, could make everyone’s day better. 

“You know what I’m talking about” he rolled his eyes and turned back to his book “Dray, you’re in love with her” 

“No, of course I’m not” he tried to deny, but the blush on his cheeks said otherwise. Draco sighed at the sight of Y/N in her spring dress and curly hair. She looked amazing, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had her eyes on someone. They had known each other for years, she was still nice to him when he was an annoying rat at first grade, and she was one of his real friends. They spent so much time together, it was literally impossible for Draco to imagine his days without her. He saw her getting a crush from time to time, but they passed just as quickly as they came. He even saw her falling in love with Adrian Pucey, and he was by her side when they broke up. It was a mutual decision. After a year and a half of complete confusing for Draco, he felt relieved when she said they decided with Adrian to stay just friends, because they weren’t working as a couple anymore. Draco knew from then that it wasn’t just a friendly love anymore. He knew why he was always so moody and needy during the time of their dating. He hated to see him holding her hand, hugging and kissing her in the corridors. He realised he wanted to be the one who did those things to her. If he learnt only one thing from his father, it was how to treat a woman right. He was Lucius still surprising Narcissa with flowers and dates, just to keep the smile on her face. He saw the love they had, even though what his family’s secret was. And he wanted that. Draco wanted to put a single white rose on her desk before class, just to see that beautiful smile on her face. He wanted to hug her in their sleep, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and hear her giggle when he tickled her. He wanted to kiss her perfect lips and show her how much she means to him.

“Than I guess you don’t mind that George asked her out after Potions today” Theo said, knowing very well he hit a nerve with that. If it wouldn’t have been enough that someone had the audacity to ask her out before Draco finally get the courage to do that, it had to be a Weasley. He was well aware of how Draco felt towards them, and how he wanted only the best for her. He said so many times, that she deserved a pureblood Slytherin who could identify and maintain the lifestyle she grew up with. Theo knew Draco was actually talking about himself, and he was sure he was the guy who could actually make her the happiest, but it wasn’t his place to get them together. They had to realise on their own how they were feeling. He knew the unspoken rules of both families, how they preferred another Pureblood, preferably a Slytherin marrying their only child, but Y/N never really cared about blood status. She knew they were all equal, some of them not fortunate enough to be born in a rich family. 

“He did what?” Draco almost yelled, and his sudden outburst of emotion brought the girls’ attention to their table. Y/N looked at him with raised eyebrows, asking him without words what the hell was going on. He only shook his head and sent a small smile toward her. He felt sick by the single thought of a Weasley having an arm around her.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Theo laughed and leaned back in his chair. He watched Draco’s face with an amused look. It was funny to see the always pale boy with red cheeks and even more furrowed eyebrows. Draco looked at his friend with an annoyed expression and picked up his quill. He wanted to deny it, but the feeling was too strong. He just recently learnt what jealous really felt, and he was battling with that feeling. He hated to admit that he got a soft sport for someone, and how he got jealous. He was jealous of someone else having Y/N’s attention. Not because he was needy or insecure. If he was sure about someone’s unconditional love, support and loyalty, it was her. He just didn’t want someone else to realise how amazing she was and for them to steal her away from him. He just didn’t want to lose her to someone else. She was his peace.

“I’m not jealous” he murmured and from the corner of his eyes, he checked her. She was looking at her dress in the mirror, twirling around to see how the dress hugged her body. Draco felt the oh so familiar warm feeling in his heart when he saw her. He didn’t care what she was wearing, she looked absolutely amazing in everything. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Theo to go back studying, Y/N skipped to them with a huge smile on her face.

“Hi, boys” she greeted them sweetly and stood by Draco’s side. He took a deep breathe, letting her sweet scent fill up his nose “So, I have plans for now, but Pansy and I were wondering if you two wanted to go the Hogsmeade tomorrow, to buy some things for Blaise’s surprise party”

“What about Daphne?” Theo asked, hoping the girl had other plans. They never liked each other, and only tried to get along, when they were with their group. Y/N laughed, and assured him it would only be the four of us. The boys looked at each other, both of them thinking the same thing. Maybe they could turn the shopping into a double date at the Three Broomsticks. Theo wasn’t the only one who caught on the secret glances, the moodiness when Pansy was talking to another boy. Draco knew very well Nott fancied the Parskinson girl, but was too intimidated to ask her out. 

“Sounds good to me” Draco smiled at her and put his hand on the small of her back, stroking it with his thumb. He smiled even bigger when he saw the light blush on her cheeks “Maybe we could get a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks?”

“Amazing idea” she bleamed at them “Alright, I have to go now, or I’ll be late, but we’ll discuss the details later” 

“Bye, darling” Draco said with a soft tone and watched as she hurried out of the Common Room. For a second he forgot where she was heading. For that second, he was happy and warmed by their small encounter. 

“Bye, darling” Nott mocked him in a teasing tone. He would have laughed at him, if he wasn’t already making plans in his head for tomorrow. The four of them always had the best time, and he was really looking forward to spend some time with Pansy and watch how his friends were acting around each other, like they weren’t secretly already in love.

“Shut up” Draco throw a ball of paper at him and turned back to his essay. He wanted to finish it, so he didn’t have to worry about it and rush back from their day together just to finish it in time for class. 

——

Draco wanted to stay in the Common Room and wait for Y/N  to come back, but he had Quiditch practise so he had to leave. He tried his best to shut her out of his mind during practice, but it was impossible after he saw Y/N and George in the courtyard, sitting together and giggling at something. Draco couldn’t erase the picture from his memory, and his anger got the best of him. Flint shouted at him several times to get his shit together and focus on the game, but he couldn’t. He wanted to go back and punch the Weasley boy in the face for being so close to his girl. Unfortunately, it would have been weird, considering that she was only his in his mind. The way she giggled and how interested she looked by George hunted him during practise. His stomach dropped at the thought of someone else having her. Draco was glad when Flint said they should cut their practice short due to raining. He wanted to be back in his dorm room, sulking over how much of a coward he was for not making a move on her. And now, he had to watch her falling in love with someone else. Again.

He was rushing back to the Slytherin Common Room, basically running down the corridors, when he saw Y/N and Weasley standing under the arcade, still talking about something. He felt like he was stabbed, when he saw Y/N wearing George’s jacket. He slowed down his steps, watching them waiting for the rain to stop. He waited for something. He couldn’t tell why he was being a masochistic. Maybe if he saw them kissing, or holding hands, it could have helped him to move on. But it never happened. He heard the Weasley boys quiet voice thanking her for meeting up and a quick goodbye before he rushed through the courtyard. Y/N adjusted the  jacket on her shoulder and took a few quick steps, but Draco was fast in her heals. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he just wanted to let out everything. He wanted her so bad, and he wished that he was what she wanted, and not someone else. 

“Y/N” he called after her. She stopped in her steps and turned around. Y/N arched her eyebrow, wondering what Draco was doing outside in such a bad weather. He hated when his hair got wet, and he hated it even more if one of his expensive shoes got dirty because of the mud “What are you wearing?”

She was surprised by the envy and anger in his voice. Draco never talked to her like that before. She never gave him reason to. He was just fine a couple hours earlier when they were talking about their Saturday plans with Theo and Pansy, so his sudden mood swing confused her. 

“Uhm” she played with the sleeve of the jacket, not being entirely sure what to say “It started raining and I was a bit cold, so Georgie offered me his jacket so I don’t het sick”

“Georgie?” He basically spat the name out of his mouth “Now what? Are you two giving each other bloody nicknames?”

“What the hell got into you, Draco?” She asked. Y/N knew that Draco found the Weasley twins the least annoying out of their family, and something laughed at their pranks “It was a nice gesture”

“A gesture to get into your panties” Draco almost yelled. He wasn’t mad at her. He wasn’t even mad at George for being a man enough to ask her out. He was mad at himself for being scared of his own feelings. 

“Fuck you, Draco” she scoffed and turned around to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Y/N groaned. She was annoyed by him, and didn’t want to deal with his possessiveness in the pouring rain. Her clothes and hair was all wet, and she was craving for a hot shower and some more comfortable clothes.

“No, fuck you” he was now shouting. He was done with hiding his feelings and seeing how every boy at Hogwarts could have had her, because she was single “Fuck you for liking every boy more, but me. Fuck you for not noticing how hard I’m trying to get your attention. Fuck you for not seeing how much effort I’m putting into this whole thing just to make you see what’s right in front of you” he was pouring his heart out in the rain. It could have been one of the most romantic things, if they weren’t at the verge of arguing, and they weren’t shouting at each other. Draco dropped his head with a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to see the disgust or hate on her face “I shouldn’t be jealous, you aren’t even mine”

“What are you talking about?” She was more confused than ever before. Her heart skipped a beat with every word that left Draco’s mouth. She hoped his feelings were true. She wondered how he could be so blind all this time. How he didn’t see the way she looked at him? How he didn’t feel her hugs were always longer and tighter when she hugged him? How could he not tell he was her soft spot? “Draco?”

“It doesn’t matter. I hope your date was fun” his words were soaked with envy. Y/N’s eyes widened what he said. Date? 

“What date?” She laughed a little bit “I only met Georgie because he needed help with something. He has a huge crush on this Hufflepuff girl, Annah, and asked me to give him some good date ideas”

“You were never supposed to mean this much to me” he said like he didn’t hear what she just told him “I was never supposed to fall so hard. But you know what? I did and that’s the truth” Draco looked at her with hopeful eyes. Maybe they could have a chance “Don’t you see, Y/N?” He laughed dryly. It was pathetic how he was being a softie. He hated how vulnerable he felt, standing in front of her, wearing his heart on his sleeve, confessing his love to the girl who was probably thinking of him just as a good friend “I don’t want anyone else to have your heart, kiss your lips, or be in your arms, because that’s only my place”

There it was. All words said. No taking them back. Draco finally felt proud of himself for being brave enough and facing his emotions and feelings. 

Y/N bleamed at the words. He said what she wanted to hear from him for so long. Her heart was beating in her throat and she felt like no breathe would have been enough for her. She couldn’t say anything. Her words were stuck in her. How could she say something as beautiful as he did? Those were a little bit harsh words, but meant more than the most beautiful love poem in the whole world. 

“Kiss me you twat” she laughed and took a step closer to Draco, who was still in shock after just confessing everything that he felt. He couldn’t even understand what she asked him, because his mind was numb. He saw her lips moving and feeling her sweet scent in his nose again, but he couldn’t tell what he was supposed to do. Y/N caught him off guard when she grabbed his jumper and pulled him into a kiss. At first, he didn’t kiss back. His body couldn’t understand a single thing that was happening right there, and he just stood there. But his brain switch back on again, when he felt her pulling away. He dreamed of this moment so many times. He tried to imagine how soft her lips were and how she tasted. He always imagined if she tasted like her favourite peppermint gum. But he never thought their kiss would be like this. He melted into her lips and his heart skipped every second beat. Draco had his arms around her small body, keeping her close, not letting her go. He wanted to stay like that for eternity, with the girl of his dreams in his arms, kissing her and feeling her heartbeat against his chest. 

“You know” he murmured in between kisses “I wanted to beat the shit out of that blood traitor, when he…” he couldn’t finish his sentence, because Y/N put her hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Of course you wanted, boo” she cued at him with a funny expression “You can tell me more about how you wanted to, but for now, let’s go back to the Common Room and just cuddle”

“Can I have more kisses?” He asked in a childish voice and wide eyes. She found him the most adorable, yet sexiest man ever. She rolled her eyes and took his hand happily.

“Of course” she giggle, and they ran to the Common Room hand in hand, laughing at each other for almost slipping and falling to the ground. Draco was the happiest, and was ready to show the whole school he was the lucky man who had Y/N Y/L/N’s heart, and they were more than welcome to stay away from his girl if they didn’t want his father to hear about their sad excuse of flirting with her. 

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: drabble series, angst, unrequited love, idiot!jungkook, idiot!oc, basically everyone's an idiot

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: unreciprocated pining, explicit language, themes of hopeless romanticism (!!), (slightly) unedited

⇢ summary: your best friend decided to confide in his best friend on how to win his girlfriend back after a fight. you tell him exactly what to say to her, however he is unaware that what you were saying was a sincere delivery of your once undeclared love.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: hello my little loves!! this was definitely ;) not ;) an impulse write and release ;) ;) sorry for being so inactive lately. i've been focusing on myself (i know how cliche that sounds but it's true). anyway, enjoy this incredibly angsts fic i wrote at 2 am for absolutely no reason at all other than i'm an emotional sadist and a masochist. love u!!!! <3

part one: control

He was coming over for the third time this week. Third time. Three times is two more times than he'd gone over his girlfriend's house, but you did everything in your power to convince your inconvincible heart that it meant nothing. Friends see each other more than their girlfriends, right?

It was making a racket in your chest, that muscle that strained much harder for a man who had his pumping for the girl of his dreams.

But, he was coming over for the third time this week.

The first time he said this visit ranked, in his words, 'out of the question' on the degree of necessary that he come over and show you Star Wars. You played a good game of reluctance when asking if it was the entire series or just one movie, and in your head, you hoped to God it was the entire series. For him, you'd watch the series four times over if it meant you sat through this outrageously nerdy movie next to the even more outrageously nerdy love of your life.

The second time was particularly funny to you. He called while you were cooking dinner, almost as if he was in stride with you in a way that was an ounce too synchronized to be platonic, and asked if you were whipping up a delicious meal that he could mooch off of. Knowing he was a terrible cook, plus the fact that when he begged so politely you felt your posture unbind into to a puddle, you more than happily obliged.

This time, the circumstances made it harder to say yes, but not yet impossible. And it was a second or two before you heard that knock on the front door that had your once pounding heart come to a complete halt. It was still, waiting for you to make a decision.

Since it was Jungkook, of course, you'd say yes. And your heart would continue beating. Beating, as in sending sharp jabs that stained the inside of your chest with bruises. Beating, as in when the time came, the final blow of your constantly craving heart would devastate your entire being.

"Thank you so much, ___. God, I'm such an idiot." He walked in with all the confidence of someone who was a bit too familiar with your company. Jungkook's feet reintroducing themselves to your floors in the same manner as he would the night before, and the night before that, and the countless nights you kept secured in your collection of memories. As if he belonged there; as if he was coming home.

"An idiot with a great friend." That last word nearly withdrew the bile you had been ever so gracefully holding in.

"Yeah yeah." And he was comfortable with that same word, 'friend', that deepened your bruises into scars. He had absolutely no clue. Idiot. "I can't believe I broke up with her. I was so angry and acted on that instead of logic. Fuck, why would I do that to myself? I love her."

"Well, you never know. Maybe..." You hated yourself for not resisting the selfish temptation that was about to fall from your lips. The words you've been internally screaming to him to leave her and fall in love with you instead were diluted to something much more tame when your tongue formed them into sound.

"Maybe it was for the best. Maybe you guys are better off apart? To, um, grow or whatever."

"No." He said that with too much certainty and too little hesitance and just enough conviction to sink another wound in the organ exhausting itself in your chest. "She's the one. I know it"

"Jungkook."

He looked at you with all the earnestness of a man who carved his utmost and unchanging dedication to her. A look that any love-induced sap would kill for. A look he would never direct towards you.

Your eyes weren't under your control as of now. The glue that held them to his eyes, his lips, his hair, and every other part of him you dreamed of was more than a marathoned yearning. It was an adhesive twelve years in the making, not showing the slightest sign of wearing away.

"The way you love is something to die for..." And then he smiled at you, but still not for you.

You were utterly crushed.

"She'll take you back in a heartbeat. I mean, she has a brain, so of course, she will. Anyone would."

I would.

"I hope you're right." The couch was four feet wide at most, but there was an impressively vast space between you and the man who was sitting next to you. "Can you tell me what to say? You know I suck with words."

"Uh... Yeah. Of course. Anything."

If breaking hearts were a crime, then Jungkook would have much to atone for. You'd be convicted as a willing accomplice for holding on this long. Up until this point, you've let every small glance, every shy smile he sent your way, every eyebrow twitch conveying a meaning only you knew well enough to retrieve him from whatever awkward situation he needed rescuing from, every accidentally brush of his hand against yours, every purposeful embrace that lasted so long your tears stained his right shoulder string you into a knot of miserable, unrequited love.

And up until this point, you had hope he would choose you.

Each ring of his phone worked in tandem to reduce your undying devotion to Jungkook into a compressed seed of denial.

I don't love him. He's just my best friend.

Your pulse pronounced itself loudly in your ears, as a not-so-gentle reminder of how much you hated him for loving him. Somehow, your heart beat faster. Then again, anything was possible when it came to him. Anything except the miraculous event of him hanging up, declaring his love for you, and living in the land of happily ever after that only existed in your deluded imagination.

"Hey Irene! I'm so fucking glad you picked up."

He gave you that look. With the arched eyebrow, his widened doe eyes, and the slightly hung jaw, you read each feature better than words and nodded to signal you knew exactly what he needed.

"I'm sorry about what happened." You said, in a whisper, though the deflated volume of your words carried no implication of the unbridled sincerity sealed in them.

"I'm sorry about what happened." He repeated, laying down that same Irene-contrived smile on you that fostered a smile of your own, knowing fully it surfaced as a reflex from hearing her voice.

"It might be crazy to try this, because I don't know how you feel."

If the thing people say about your life flashing before your eyes during encounters with death, then you were sure your heart was about to consume its last pulse of blood. The scenes of you and Jungkook spending your Friday nights when you were a ripe city dweller in your shoebox apartment doing everything and nothing at all had convinced you that you were certainly about to go into cardiac arrest.

"It might be crazy to say this, because I don't know how you feel." Jungkook was so many things, however emotionally perceptive was not one of them.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you." Those words tasted sweet despite fermenting in a chamber of your heart you kept preserved since, as you said, the very moment you met him.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you."

"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."

He repeated your words, but dehydrated all of your sentiment from them. You were left with the remnants of the feelings, and none of the words from him you were so desperately starved of. He took them right from your throat, along with the very breath that seemed to keep returning because of Jungkook, molded them into his own, into a sequence of sounds that were meant for Irene. You were left hungry, breathless, and forever wanting.

"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."

Irene must have been smiling right about now. Who wouldn't smile hearing those things from someone like Jungkook?

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Then, you began to ask yourself another question.

If you make me complete, Jungkook, will my story ever end?

You knew the answer to that. You swore your heart beat in a morse code that told you everything you needed to know.

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Jungkook looked to you, before Irene could form the proper response, and smiled. It was the third time he smiled at you today because of course, you were keeping track. You knew it was his own physically linguistic version of a 'thank you' or a 'you're a life saver' but somehow, to you, it translated to something similar to a 'goodbye'.

Your legs miraculously rose and carried you to the back porch. The sun was just beginning to dip in the horizon, proliferating a warm orange that was about to subside to an indistinguishable and unpredictable dusk. Whatever color came after the sunset, you were ready to accept it, to memorize how it reflected against a world without the possibility of him. And even though the night will always embody undertones of orange, it was time to focus on the colors around it.

It was time to let go.

a/n: i might make this into a drabble series!!! if anyone would be interested in that please let me know :)) thank you for readinggggg <3

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt13 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang is visited again by his future self, which goes even less pleasantly than before

Nie Huaisang did not enjoy in the least being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, a hand firmly pressed over his mouth to keep him quiet and avoid waking the other Nie disciples.

His future self really needed to find a better way to visit him. They had to decide on a schedule of some sort, Nie Huaisang ranted when they were outside, hidden away near the cabin he currently inhabited. Or a signal. Or something other than the absolute terror of a stranger taking him out of his bed in the dark.

“Couldn’t you at least have told me when you were planning on coming back?” Nie Huaisang complained, to which his future self shrugged.

“I was supposed to, but I forgot,” the older man muttered from being his fan. “Not that I would have kept to the schedule anyway. I had to know how your time in Yunping City went, so I… pushed hard to come here as early as I could. I probably won’t be able to return again until late fall, or even the bew year.”

He did look tired, and had a slight trembling in his hands, Nie Huaisang noted. Though that could just have been excitement rather than a sign something was wrong with him.

“It went well in Yunping City, I think,” Nie Huaisang announced. “I don’t think that Meng Yao will be going to Lanling Jin now, not if he has even a little bit of brain, and…”

“He’s more stupid than you’d expect,” his older self snapped. “I take it he’s still alive then?”

Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulders and looked down at his feet. 

“It’s not like I could actually have killed him! And anyway, he’s nice. Well, I thought he was nice…” The older Nie Huaisang scoffed. “And Lan gongzi thought it too…” Another scoff, and when Nie Huaisang risked a glance, he was met with an expression of disgust. “And Jiang gongzi too had a good opinion of him!”

“You saw Jiang Cheng?” his older self asked, lowering his fan while something shifted in his voice. “How was he? Was Wei Wuxian there too?”

He sounded almost eager to get news, as if he cared about these people.

He sounded almost human.

“I don’t think that other one was there,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to remember. He'd been so nervous about that Meng Yao business, he hadn't paid attention to anything else. “And Jiang gongzi mostly seemed interested in chatting with Lan gongzi. They were getting along just fine. I think they’re writing to each other now? I think Lan gongzi mentioned that the other day.”

Whatever softness had briefly taken over his older self melted in a second, replaced by something dark.

“That’s new,” he said, closing his fan with a flourish before tapping it against his hand. “I knew they would have met briefly in Yunping City, but to my knowledge they didn’t speak at all. We’ll have to be careful. I don’t like the idea of Jiang Cheng siding with that idiot." He sighed. “We’ll see what comes of it in the future. For now, tell me what you’ve done with Meng Yao, since you’re apparently too much of a coward to properly get rid of the man who killed da-ge.”

Nie Huaisang felt breathless at that casual mention of Meng Yao’s true role in his brother’s future death. His older self had said that Meng Yao was involved, that he needed to be dealt with, but Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought…

How could someone like Meng Yao ever kill his brother? Even if he worked day and night, even if he tried as hard as he could, Meng Yao would take years and years to catch up to even a normal cultivator’s level. He would never compare to Nie Mingjue who everyone agreed was a cultivation genius, a force of nature. In a direct confrontation, Meng Yao could never win.

It would have been something more insidious then, Nie Huaisang thought. Poison, or backstabbing, or some other under-handed thing. And since Lan Xichen had appeared so instantly fond of that Meng Yao, since his future self hated him too, maybe he’d accidentally given him the means of coming close to Nie Mingjue. That would certainly explain why that older Nie Huaisang despised both men so intensely.

A little shaken by that theory, Nie Huaisang started recounting what had happened in Yunping City. Or at least, he explained most of it. He was so embarrassed about failing to find the right brothel that he didn’t speak about that, meaning he also didn’t say anything about meeting Lan Xichen in the red district, and that complete breakdown the poor boy had.  And while he proudly explained that Meng Yao was now part of Yunmeng Jiang where he appeared to be doing very well according to letters Lan Xichen had received, Nie Huaisang didn’t mention that to obtain that result he’d insulted a sect leader and gotten harshly punished for it. He didn’t think his older self would show much sympathy for his suffering.

Really, talking to that man was like talking to Nie Mingjue when he asked about his brother’s cultivation progress. Except at least Nie Mingjue was only like that some of the time, when the elders had pestered him about Nie Huaisang’s lack of talent for anything one time too many. His older self felt as if he was this way all the time.

“I suppose Yunmeng will have to do,” the older Nie Huaisang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Jiangs certainly aren’t going to give him a recommendation to join Lanling Jin. Anything is better than Lanling or Qinghe at this point.”

Nie Huaisang pinched his lips, quite glad he hadn’t mentioned his initial plan of bringing Meng Yao to Qinghe. It had been a stupid plan, he now realised. But he hadn’t known that Meng Yao would be his brother’s actual murderer, and his future self hadn’t said anything, and…

“Now that Meng Yao is dealt with, let’s talk about what you have to do next,” the older Nie Huaisang said.

“About… about S-Su She?” Nie Huaisang quickly asked, trying to sound as indifferent as he could.

His older self opened his fan with an elegant gesture that Nie Huaisang was starting to hate, and shook his head with a cruel smirk.

“No. I’ve given this some thought,” the older man explained, fanning himself slowly. “I’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t care much whether Jin Zixun and him kill each other. Good riddance, neither of them are worth even the dirt used to bury them. These two are just…”

“He’s my friend,” Nie Huaisang squeaked. By which he meant Su She of course, but also…

Jin Zixun and him had exchanged a few glances here and there during particularly boring lessons, and they’d chatted a little when they’d been punished again together, this time over a failed assignment. Jin Zixun wasn’t a friend, but he might have become an acquaintance, and that was probably more than anyone could say about Jin Zixun.

His older self closed his fan with a sharp gesture and glared at him.

“He’s not.”

“But he is!” Nie Huaisang insisted. “I met Su-xiong a while ago, and he’s real nice, and we get along fine, and he even…”

“A man like Su She doesn’t have friends. He’s only using you to get something. What did he make you promise? Support? Help? Money?”

“He’s not like that!” Nie Huaisang cried out, letting his voice rise higher than was truly wise at such an hour of the night.

But he couldn’t let Su She be insulted that way. Maybe it was different where his future self came from, maybe Su She and him hadn’t met over there, but they had met here, and they were true friends.

Su She had amply apologised about not coming to see Nie Huaisang that whole week he’d been punished for his fight with Jin Zixun. He had cited his own punishment, as well as Lan Xichen enrolling him in his book-copying scheme. Both were valid reasons, but Su She still appeared very sorry that he’d let Nie Huaisang deal with that on his own, and shared some candies with him as a way of apology.

Su She was the best friend Nie Huaisang had ever had in his life, and he refused to hear anyone insult him, even himself.

“Su She is no friend of yours,” his older self claimed. “Stop whatever acquaintance you have with him right away. Da-ge wouldn’t approve, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re at the point of my life where I’m a little idiot who cannot do anything right. If you’re making a decision, it’s always going to be the wrong one, and it will anger Da-ge. So drop Su She immediately.”

"Da-ge isn't like that," Nie Huaisang grumbled. 

"I've known him longer than you," his future self retorted. "I know what he thinks of me." 

Which might have been true, but it still felt wrong. Nie Huaisang and his brother had their disagreements, of course. Many of them, in fact. They argued over just about anything, but rarely seriously, or about anything really important, and they always made up quickly. Sure, some people misunderstood their relationship and thought they didn't get along. Some had even tried to take advantage of that perceived rift between them, but both brothers knew where they stood. 

Nie Huaisang knew his brother would like Su She when he met him. In fact, Nie Mingjue had already promised he could invite his new friend to come to the Unclean Realm, provided he passed his exams.

Maybe it had been too long since his future self had last seen Nie Mingjue, if he could only remember their few disputes and none of the affection. 

"The only person you're supposed to pay attention this year to is Lan Xichen," his older self reminded him. "So how are things going on that front? I swear if there's still no progress…" 

"No, there is!" Nie Huaisang said, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "A lot of progress! We spend at least a shichen together every week lately, sometimes more!" 

"That's a very precise amount," his older self noted. "How do you know it is that much?" 

"Well, see, he gives me music lessons. He says I'm quite good at it actually," Nie Huaisang added with pride.

That pride was met with a dark, angry look. Or perhaps not angry as such, Nie Huaisang thought after a moment. Maybe envious instead. Considering the opinion his future self had of Lan Xichen, it was impossible he'd ever been given those lessons, or surely he wouldn't have hated Lan Xichen so much. And since they were the same person, or at least had been the same person before his future self grew up into an asshole, then they had to have the same tastes, the same aspirations.

"What instrument ?" 

"The guqin, of course. You know, I always figured it'd be really hard, but I'm liking it a lot, and it's really fun to practice a little every day, and Lan Xichen is a really nice teacher, and he's actually fun, and…" 

"He's not," his future self cut him. "And while I'm glad you're finally remembering the part you have to play in our plan, I don't want you to get distracted. Music isn't your goal. Neither is it to actually befriend Lan Xichen. You only need to make him think you're his friend, getting attached as well would be a mistake."

"But…" 

"In fact," his older self continued, slowly fanning himself, "it would be best if you gave up already on the idea of having friends. It's not for the likes of us. If you were a little more charismatic and likeable perhaps… but in the end, none of the 'friends' I made at your age were there for me when I needed them. I had to trick them into helping when the time came to avenge da-ge, or they would have let his murderers live free."

"Well maybe if you weren't such a prick they'd still be yours friends," Nie Huaisang muttered, which earned him a slap. 

It didn't immediately register that he'd been hit. He just stood there, staring at his older self, vaguely aware of a noise too loud in the quiet night of the Cloud Recesses, and a rising sensation of heat on his cheek. 

"I can't believe nobody has ever done that, with how annoying I am," his future self remarked, shaking his hand as if the blow had hurt him too. "Now listen to me. You are not likeable. You are not charismatic. You're not even particularly clever most of the time. Why would anyone want to be friends with you? At best they're tolerating you because it's impossible to just reject the heir of a great sect, but make no mistake, your only quality is Nie Mingjue. In terms of popularity, you rank about as high as someone like Jin Zixun. Do you understand what it means?"

Nie Huaisang failed to contain a few tears as he brought one hand to his smarting cheek. It felt hot to the touch, and he'd have to expend some spiritual energy into it, or else there might be a mark in the morning that would be difficult to explain. 

As for his older self's question, Nie Huaisang shook his head the way he felt might be expected of him.

"It means you have to treat people the way they treat you," his older self said. "Keep your heart closed, and use them for what they're worth. Especially Lan Xichen. Get him to trust you, but don't make the mistake of trusting him back. He is a rather poor friend to those who make that mistake."

Gritting his teeth, Nie Huaisang obediently nodded, fearful of being hit again. 

But it didn't sound right. He refused to believe that people were as bad as his future self said. Surely Su She at least was better than that. Nie Huaisang could doubt anyone in the world, but not Su She, so he was absolutely not going to dump his friend just because some old creep with trust issues told him to. Not even if the old creep was himself.

As for Lan Xichen… not so long ago, Nie Huaisang might have accepted that unkind assessment of his brother’s friend. But now that they hung out together more frequently, he thought Lan Xichen wasn’t so bad. Their music lessons really were nice. Lan Xichen was patient and encouraging, something few teachers in Nie Huaisang’s life had ever been. He didn’t mind when Nie Huaisang got too tired to focus, or when he struggled with something that should have been easy. He also didn’t take Nie Huaisang’s moments of easy success as proof that he was faking whenever he struggled, and for this alone Lan Xichen had Nie Huaisang’s gratitude.

Not only that, but Lan Xichen had proven that he wasn’t as stiff and boring as Nie Huaisang used to think. He’d listened about the problems that Su She had, hadn’t he? And not just listened, but he’d done something about it, and he was still doing something about it, and not only for Su She’s sake either. 

Su She had told Nie Huaisang that any inner clan disciple who bothered an outer disciple was in serious trouble these days if Lan Xichen heard about it… or worse still, if Lan Wangji got involved. He was a stickler for rules that one. Once his brother had casually mentioned to him that some people were breaking Lan principles behind the teachers’ back, Lan Wangji hunted them down and made sure those people regretted it.

All because Nie Huaisang had told Lan Xichen that he didn’t like how people treated his friend.

How could Nie Huaisang not have started liking him a little after that?

“Speaking of making friends,” his future self said, “you remember you need to fail your classes this year, right? We have big plans for next year.”

Nie Huaisang nodded again, with more sincerity this time. Failing his exams would not be difficult. At all. In fact, he was quite good at failing. Lan Qiren could have testified that when it came to failing, he’d never had a student as great as Nie Huaisang.

“Good, excellent. Now, I don’t have much time left here today but… I have a task for you when the classes end.”

“Another thing?” Nie Huaisang lamented. “That wasn’t the deal!”

“It is for da-ge’s good,” his future self snapped, and once again Nie Huaisang wondered if he really loved his brother enough to bother with all this.

He did love Nie Mingjue, no doubt. But he still wondered.

“In fact, it’s for the good of the whole cultivation world,” his future self continued. “This might be the most selfless thing you’re ever going to do, so don’t mess it up. When the classes end, you’re not going home. You’re going to the city of Kuizhou…”

“Really? Oh, that’d be neat. I’ve always wanted to see…”

“You’re not going there to sightsee and think about poetry,” his older self cut him. “You’re going there to find a young criminal by the name of Xue Yang and ensure he never gets to create trouble for the cultivation world. You’ve disappointed me with Meng Yao, but I think you should manage to do the right thing with Xue Yang. He’s only ten or eleven, and you have a sabre, surely it can’t be too hard to dispose of him.”

“You don’t mean…”

The older man closed his fan, his face devoid of emotion. “I would think my meaning is clear enough, but I’m not letting you mess this up as you’ve done with Meng Yao. Xue Yang must die. He grows into too much of a menace as an adult. Even if we're going to make sure his particular skills never become needed by any sect, letting him live is just too risky. He’s devious enough to come up with demonic cultivation all on his own if given the chance to grow up, and he certainly doesn’t have any ideals of justice to help him keep it under control. Kill him before he harms anyone.”

"I'm not a killer!" Nie Huaisang shouted, too loud, far too loud, but he didn’t care, horrified by the very idea of what he his future self was demanding. He felt sorry when fighting fierce corpses and tended to cry at exorcisms, how could he ever… and to a living person, to a child.

And yet his future self rolled his eyes as if his horror were but another minor annoyance to deal with, and started fanning himself again.

"You'll learn fast. Just find a cat, snap its neck, and you'll see how easy it is. After two or three you stop feeling sorry for them, and people aren't so different from cats."

“I don’t think da-ge would want that,” Nie Huaisang protested in a trembling voice. “I don’t think he’d like that at all. It’s just… it’s a kid! Good people don’t kill kids! Even a lot of bad people don’t kill kids!”

“Be quiet, or we’ll be found by whichever Lan disciple is patrolling tonight!”

Good, Nie Huaisang thought. If they were found he’d be punished, sure, but more importantly he’d be forced to tell someone about everything his older self had told him, from the war that was coming, to Nie Mingjue’s death, to killing children. But of course Nie Huaisang couldn’t be so lucky, and no one appeared to have heard him.

“You’re really too naive,” his older self said. “Everyone kills children, they just don’t speak about it and pretend they’re righteous. Even da-ge is no better. I only realised that after the war with the Wens, but it’ll be good for you to grow out of your illusions earlier than that. Besides, you don’t have to tell da-ge that you’ve killed that boy. Keeping secrets is your only real skill, use it.”

“Da-ge isn’t like that,” Nie Huaisang hissed, and felt he’d started crying again.

His brother wasn’t a murderer. He was a good person, he wouldn’t harm anyone who didn’t deserve it… but he might make an exception when it came to the Wens, who nobody in Qinghe Nie really counted as people anymore. 

They were just a disease upon the cultivation world, pests that needed to be eliminated. Nie Huaisang, who had always agreed to that, had never really paused before to think that Qishan Wen also counted a number of children, of elders, of servants, of people who really had nothing to do with his father’s death and maybe didn’t even realise there had ever been such a person in the world.

“Da-ge is only human,” his older self said. “And all humans are ready to kill to get what they want. Da-ge wanted to avenge our father. You want to protect da-ge. It’s not so different. If it helps, Xue Yang really deserves to die, so don’t bother feeling sorry for him. He would kill you for candies, given half a chance.”

“I’m not like that,” Nie Huaisang sobbed.

“Not yet perhaps,” his older self conceded in a softer voice. “But you’ll get there anyway. The world is cruel. We must be worse than it is, if we are to survive, if da-ge is to survive.”

The man raised a hand toward Nie Huaisang's head, wanting perhaps to comfort him by ruffling his hair. It was what Nie Mingjue would have done. But Nie Huaisang flinched, fearing to be struck again, and his older self's hand dropped at his side.

“So remember well,” his older self ordered, his tone dry once more. “An orphan boy named Xue Yang, who lives in Kuizhou. He’s a petty criminal for now, he hasn’t yet switched from theft to violent crimes I think, but it’ll come soon. He would be tall for his age I believe. He has a missing little finger on his left hand, and when he smiles his canines are very prominent. He is a monster, and he cannot be allowed to live. Do you understand?”

Through heavy tears Nie Huaisang nodded. That seemed to satisfy his older self who vanished. 

Nie Huaisang understood indeed, but he didn’t agree and was certain he never would.

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Eleven

“...and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment...”

― Plato, The Symposium

tw: Death

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

April 25th, 2000, 12:06pm

It’s been a long, long few months for Roni.

Today is one of the first warm days New York has experienced in a while, and it’s one of the first times Roni has felt strong enough to actually leave her house without breaking down and sobbing.

Still, she’s aware she isn’t exactly at peak performance either.

Presently she finds herself at the supermarket, bare-faced and exhausted. She reaches up to rub at her eyes, which at this point burn permanently with how often she’s been crying over the past few months.  She’s sure she must look a mess as she walks through the building, searching numbly for the few items her grandmother had sent her for.

Her grandmother, sweet and more than mildly concerned for Roni’s well being, had thought it would be wise for Roni to get out of the house for a bit.  Over the past few months, Roni has gone on a few walks here and there, but each time she’d returned home looking more wilted and devastated than she had when she’d left.  It was disconcerting, to put it lightly, but of course the older woman had comforted Roni through every minute of it.

That being said, however, she’d wanted to push Roni to make the effort to get out of this funk (or at least up and over the hump that stood before her), and although it makes Roni feel strange and disgustingly vulnerable to be out here among other people like this, she can’t say she blames her grandmother for trying.

Besides, there’s something that’s been on her mind for ages now, and she thinks today is the perfect day for it.

She has to keep reminding herself to focus on the task at hand first and foremost-- although she can’t for the life of her remember if her grandmother needs 2 percent milk or skim--, because God knows she wants this grocery store trip to be over as soon as possible.

She runs a hand through her hair, realizing dismissively that it’s a bit greasy and overdue for a wash.  When was the last  time she took a shower?

Ultimately, Roni decides on skim milk (she figures her grandmother will forgive her if she’s wrong) and plops it unenthusiastically into the shopping basket that hangs heavy on her arm.  She scans the basket, mentally checking off everything she sees and searching her foggy brain to determine if she’s missed anything.

When she’s absolutely certain she’s gotten everything on her grandmother’s list, she takes in a deep breath, turning on her heel and walking--almost robotically-- to the next area of the store she needs to go to.

The little section of less-than-fresh flowers is located directly next to the produce section, right where it’s always been, and it’s a place that Roni has visited multiple times in her life since her mother’s passing.  The task of picking out the prettiest flowers is one that Roni has never taken lightly, of course, and this time is no exception.

Because this time, she isn’t going to visit the grave of her mother.  She’s going to find Harry’s.

There’s a pressure on her back mixed with a tinge of anxiety as she scans the colorful flowers in their colorful wrapping.  It would be doing Harry a disservice to pick some that are anything less than perfect, but then none of these seem suitable at all.

Roses? No, too dark. Violets? Ironic, but still no.

Roni is startled out of her thoughts when she hears someone behind her clear their throat.  Expecting to be asked to kindly move out of the way, she shifts quickly to the right,  preparing to offer whoever this person is an apologetic smile.

But then she hears her name.

When she turns she is met by none other than Oliver and his sweet, smiling face. Her heart sinks impossibly deeper into her stomach at the sight.

“Hey!” he greets, as pleasantly as he can manage.  “I thought that was you but I wasn’t sure!”

Oliver looks good, save perhaps for the dark circles under his eyes that mirror Roni’s own.  He seems far more well put together than Roni for sure, and she’s almost embarrassed by her own appearance. His dark hair hangs limp on his head, and the scent of his aftershave tells Roni that he’s probably just taken a shower before heading over here.  She wants to hug him, purely for selfish reasons, but she thinks maybe that isn’t the best idea right now given the circumstances.

He seems to feel the same way, because he holds his hands awkwardly at his side— as if wanting to go to her, but unsure of how to go about it.

So Roni simply smiles.  “Oliver,” she greets. “It’s so good to see you!”

And she does mean that. His face is an oddly comforting sight at a time like this.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ron! How have you been?” He asks this question quietly, as if he already knows the answer, but there isn’t a single trace of judgement on his face. That was something Roni had always loved about him, in fact.  He never judged.  He was always a much better person than she felt she could ever hope to be.

Still, it feels like a loaded question. One that she doesn’t quite feel prepared to answer in the slightest.  How does one explain to their ex boyfriend of several years that they’re doing absolutely terrible?

So she shrugs, offering him a half-hearted laugh.  “I mean, I’m here.”

Oliver laughs, a sympathetic smile on his face that tells her he feels the exact same way. A wordless sentiment is shared between the two in their smiles, and he nods when she giggles. “Same,” he says. “I’ve been better but… ya know.”

And god, Roni does know.

She gestures at him. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Been working out a lot. Changed my diet a bit. Just trying to be like, you know, healthier and stuff.”

Roni nods. “That’s amazing, Oliver.”

She really does mean it. He does look great, especially compared to the last time she’d seen him. Fresh out of their breakup, running on a maximum of three hours of sleep per night, wordlessly helping Roni pack up her things into boxes and moving them, along with her grandfather, back into her grandparents house.

The first few days of the new year had been awful, to say the least.  Roni had hardly spoken, hardly eaten, hardly done much at all except for cry; overwhelmed with sadness and a tinge of guilt— not only for leaving Harry, but for her sudden lack of feelings towards Oliver. And Oliver, the angel that he is, stood by her. Constantly worrying, making sure she was at least drinking enough water, and trying to coax her into telling him what was wrong.

The breakup had not gone at all the way Roni had expected. But then, when do breakups ever?

It was on the 6th day of January, when Roni found herself so completely buried in her grief that she couldn’t stop crying, even for five minutes, or bring herself to step foot out of her bed.  Oliver had tried everything, and was obviously growing impatient himself. When he threw his hands up and exasperatedly told Roni he was taking her to the hospital, that’s when she’d done it. She’d blurted out that she couldn’t be with him anymore.

The look on his face was enough to shatter what little bit of her heart remained intact in her chest.  He’d asked for clarification, then asked again, then again. When his tears started falling, that’s when the cycle of grief started for him. Denial, bargaining, anger.

Roni, of course, couldn’t tell him everything.  She couldn’t tell him about the time travel, and about Harry.  She couldn’t tell him anything, really.  All she could do was cry.

And cry she did.  She cried so hard she got sick, and poor Oliver, through his own tears, called Roni’s grandparents because he didn’t know what else to do. Even in the days that followed, where Roni stayed in the care of her grandparents, she couldn’t give him a straight  answer.  She wasn’t sure where she would even start, she only begged him to understand that this was the right answer for both of them.

And all the while, her heart had ached.  It had ached for her mother, and for Harry.  It flooded with overwhelming grief and guilt as Roni constantly wondered if she’d done the right thing leaving 1925.

It had taken a while, but it did get a bit easier after that.  Two weeks later, Roni and Oliver ended things-- officially-- both with clearer minds and hearts.  Oliver helped Roni’s grandfather move the rest of her things from her and Oliver’s shared apartment back into her grandparents’ home, and she and Oliver talked things through-- as best as they could.

The official reason Roni had given Oliver for their breakup was that she didn’t know who she was on her own and she needed to figure it out; which wasn’t a lie.  She had told him, in more or less words, that she was feeling misunderstood and needed to really find out who Veronica Elliot was.  After all, they’d been together for nearly ten years.  Ten years of her adult life in which she’d done so much growing up, but with him.  She needed to grow up on her own.

And Oliver had understood that as best he could.   It didn’t make the breakup hurt less by any means, but it made enough sense. All he wanted was for her to be happy, which she appreciated more than she could express.   So once she’d gotten settled in with her grandparents, she and Oliver hadn’t spoken again.

Until now.

Oliver nods his head in Roni’s general direction, bringing her from her thoughts.  “What’s the occasion?”  he asks.

“Hm?”

“You’re shopping for flowers,” Oliver explains with a laugh.  “For something good I hope!”

“Oh.”  It dawns on Roni that Oliver may actually be able to help her, or at least somewhat understand her current situation.  “Yeah.  Kind of.”  She shifts her weight to her other foot.  “Actually… Oliver, do you remember Mr. Styles?”

Oliver furrows his eyebrows.  “Who?”

“Mr. Styles.  You were assigned to spend time with him in high school.  Right before you graduated.”  None of this seems to ring a bell to Oliver, so Roni sighs.  “You knoooow,” she tries again.  “He gave you the advice?  About asking me out?  You brought me to meet him?”

Oliver’s confusion only seems to deepen.  He shakes his head.  “No, I don’t think--”

“He died like, shortly after I met him,” Roni says, growing a bit more impatient.  “You went to his funeral!”

“Roni,” Oliver says slowly,  “I think you’re confused.  I was assigned to Mrs. Brown. Mildred Brown. You met her, but there was no one named Mr. Styles.”  

Roni shakes her head. “No,” she says.  “No, that’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” Oliver insists, then chuckles.  “I would’ve remembered someone with a name that cool.”

“But Harry-- Mr. Styles… he--”

“I knew pretty much every resident in that place,” Oliver says.  “There was no one named Mr. Styles. At all.”

Roni lets out a breath, blinking as she tries to process exactly what Oliver is telling her. Of course there was a Mr. Styles. She remembers him vividly, both in his youth and in old age.  “No…” she says slowly.  “No, there definitely was.”

Oliver shakes his head.  “Roni, I’m not lying to you.  I knew everybody there.  There was nobody with that name.”  

Roni is only halfway listening to him as her thoughts run a million miles a minute.  “He… no, because...” She trails off, finally blinking confusedly up at Oliver.  “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”  Oliver watches her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  After a beat, he speaks again.  “You okay?”

“Yeah it’s just… I could’ve sworn--”

“Is that who you were planning on getting the flowers for?”  Oliver’s confusion continues to show on his face. “Why?”

“I just--”  Roni isn’t even sure where to begin.  She sighs.  “I just thought… he really meant a lot to you.  I wasn’t at the funeral.”

“You’re thinking of Mrs. Brown,” Oliver insists.  “I loved that woman.  But I haven’t thought of her in years.  I’m shocked you even remember her.”

“Apparently I don’t,” Roni jokes half-heartedly. Oliver laughs.

“Where did you come up with that name anyway? It doesn’t even sound remotely familiar.”

Roni, still confused, shakes her head. “I don’t know. I must have heard it in passing or… something.”

“Yeah probably.” Oliver nods towards the flowers. “Anyways. If you’re wanting to get some flowers for Mrs. Brown, she loved lilies.”

Roni glances back towards the cheap bouquets. Lilies. Those might be good.

Her confusion only fogs up her brain more than it already is, and try as she might to hide it, it projects very easily onto her face.  Oliver eyes her, as if wanting to touch her but unsure of whether or not he should.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ron?”

“Yeah,” Roni says quickly, realizing she must look strange. “No, yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just… brain fart I guess.”

Oliver chuckles. “I know how that goes. Had a ton of those the past couple months.  Things have just been like, weird? I guess? That’s the only way I can describe it.”

“I know,” Roni agrees, a tinge of guilt striking her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Oliver says quickly. “Seriously. I didn’t say that to like, make you feel bad or anything.  I’m just saying.”

The air is thick with tension all of a sudden, and Roni clears her throat, trying desperately to will it away. Oliver laughs awkwardly.

“Well I don’t want to keep you or anything. I’ll let you get back to your shopping.  But it was really good to see you.”

The way he’s smiling at her makes Roni instantly relax, and any awkward vibes in the air fizzle away. She smiles. “It was good to see you, too. Seriously.”

There’s a brief moment of charged energy between the two, before Oliver decides to just bite the bullet and move.  He reaches forward before Roni can really even process it and he wraps her up in a hug.

It feels ridiculously comforting in a way that Roni would have never expected, and she surprises herself when she feels her eyes grow misty.  She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed a hug  just in general, and she definitely hadn’t thought the most comforting one would come from Oliver himself.   She relaxes into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and giving him a gentle squeeze in return.

They stay like this for a while, and Roni realizes that Oliver probably needs this just as badly as she does.  She feels him take a deep breath in through his nose, burying it in her hairline and sighing quietly under his breath.  He’s missed her.  And Roni can’t lie and she hasn’t missed him, it’s just different.

She can’t go back to him.  She absolutely cannot.

“Please take care of yourself,” Oliver mumbles, before finally pulling out of the hug.

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, Ron.  Go easy on yourself.  Please.”

His words touch Roni’s heart, and she smiles.  “Oh.  You too.”

He smiles right back at her, and there’s a long moment where she feels like he might say something else.  Ultimately he decides against it, and he nods in finality.  “Right,” he says.  “See ya.”

He’s gone before Roni has even finished saying her goodbye, and she’s left feeling empty and somewhat melancholy.  How is it possible to feel so simultaneously relieved, as if some unexpected closure has occurred between the two, and yet so hollow, as if far too many words were left unspoken?

Roni’s stomach churns and she clears her throat, trying to re-center herself.  

Flowers.  Harry’s grave.  Right.

She knows what Oliver just said, and it confuses her to no end, but she isn’t going to give up that easily.  She’s certainly not just going to take his word for it; she has to see for herself.  She believes the finality of seeing Harry’s grave-- if there even is one-- will grant her the strength to push forward.  To know in her heart that what she had with him is long gone.  Otherwise, she fears she’ll never be able to shake the feeling that there is lingering unfinished business between them, and it will continue to haunt her until she knows for certain.

Even if Oliver insists Mr. Styles never existed.  She has to try.

So Roni sighs, reaching for a bouquet of white lilies that seem to be the least wilted out of all of their counterparts, before making her way to the checkout line.

———————-

The cemetery is somber, but it brings a peaceful sense of calm over Roni as she steps through the gates.  It’s colder and cloudier than it was this morning, and Roni finds herself wishing she’d brought a jacket.  She takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed as she scans the many headstones before her.  Finding Mr. Styles’ grave is going to be far more difficult than she’d anticipated.

She takes a step forward along the gravel road that winds through the expansive cemetery.  She hadn’t realized it was going to be such a large place, with headstones covering the hills everywhere she turns.  It’s only the slightest bit disheartening, but Roni is no quitter.  If she can’t find his headstone today, she’ll return tomorrow; and if necessary, every day after that until she finds it.

Oliver’s words echo in Roni’s mind as she walks, scanning each headstone for the name she wants so desperately to see.  Why didn’t he remember Harry?  Surely she hadn’t dreamt that entire day in which she met the elderly gentleman; she has vivid memories of Oliver calling her cousin’s house where she was staying the day of the funeral and telling her how upset he was. That was real.  The books on his nightstand were real.

Harry was real.

In the distance, someone sits on the balcony of their apartment and plays guitar.  It’s a melancholy song, and although Roni knows they’re just practicing and this has nothing to do with her, it feels strangely fitting.  Roni smiles to herself, enjoying the music, as she continues her way down the path.

It feels silly in a way, to be here without any knowledge of the location of Harry’s gravesite or if it’s even in this cemetery at all.  In hindsight, she feels, she could have done just a bit more research.  She could have called around, done some inquiring about Harry.  To be fair, though, she had called his old retirement home only to find that it was no longer a retirement home, but a preschool; a fact that she found quite odd.  The circle of life, so to speak.

As she scans the headstones, she reads each name quietly to herself. She figures it may be best to take the cemetery in sections; a section or two today, another tomorrow. It makes the task feel far less daunting and besides, she could use some more peaceful walks like this in her daily life.

She runs her fingertips along the rough top of a headstone, soberly realizing that there are caskets beneath her very feet at this exact moment.  Realizing that everyone ends up here in their lives, and that one day she too will end up here.  The thought of Harry being somewhere beneath this grass, however, makes her stomach churn.  She hates that she’s here, and she knows it’s too late, but she’s hoping it will give her some type of the closure that she’s aching for.

Roni sighs, muttering a gentle “where are you?” under her breath as she scans the headstones.

She continues along the dirt path, shyly chuckling to herself at some of the names (and immediately feeling guilty for it).  She switches the bouquet of flowers from her right hand to her left and wipes her sweaty palm along the thigh of her jeans.

As Roni continues her walk, she grows a bit colder than before. She wraps her free hand around her stomach, as if it’s going to help, and sniffles when the wind tickles her hair across her nose.  Today had started out so misleading with such beautiful weather, and now she’s shivering against the chilly wind.

It’s about thirty minutes later when Roni happens upon a headstone bearing a name that draws her attention.  The name isn’t exactly the one she’s been searching so desperately for, but it does interest her.  She goes to it. turning off the gravel path and walking along the moist grass.  As she approaches, she reads aloud from it.

“Mrs. Mildred Brown. Beloved wife and mother. Born October 12th, 1899.  Died June 6th, 1990.”  Roni sighs as she continues, reading the passage from the Bible written in script along the bottom.  “‘Well done thou good and faithful servant.’  Matthew 25:21.”  

She shakes her head.  “I don’t understand,” she mumbles, squatting down beside the headstone to get a better look.

It all checks out, as far as Oliver’s story goes.  She regrets not asking him for more information while she had the chance, however.  How did Mrs. Brown die?  What was it like the day Roni supposedly met her?  Had Mrs. Brown been interested in time travel?  Why is none of this making sense in Roni’s brain?

As Roni processes all of this, she suddenly gets the unmistakable feeling that she’s being watched.  It isn’t a threatening feeling by any means, but she can practically feel a pair of eyes on her out of nowhere, and it is somewhat unsettling.

Of course, her logical brain thinks, she is at a cemetery. There are other people here, no doubt, visiting loved ones.  She tries to brush off the feeling, running her thumb over the carved indentations spelling out  Mrs. Brown’s name.

Roni notices a rock atop the headstone, indicating that someone has been here to visit Mrs Brown’s grave recently. She feels it would be disrespectful to touch the stone, so she refrains.  Instead, she just looks at it, wondering who could’ve left it-- someone in Mrs. Brown’s family?-- and why she can’t, for the life of her, remember this woman.

She can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched, however, and she glances over her shoulder subtly to see if she can see anyone.  She waits a moment, and just as she turns back to observe the headstone once more, she swears she hears her own name.

“Roni.”

The voice is feminine and foreign yet so familiar all at once, and Roni isn’t even sure she’s

actually heard it when she stands up.  She turns to her right slowly on her heel, expecting to see someone and feeling slightly disturbed when she doesn’t.  She licks her lips, feeling her heart rate increase.

“Who--”

She hears it again, closer now and coming from the other direction, and she turns to her left.  Instantly, she is relieved when she realizes who the voice belongs to.

There, standing against a tree with that beautiful, all-knowing smile, stands Violet.  Dressed as if she’s just walked straight out of the 1920s.  

Perhaps she has.

A million thoughts run through Roni’s head; how did Violet get here?  How did Violet know she’d be here?  Violet nods, as if reading Roni’s mind.  

“Hello, dear.”

Realizing she hasn’t said a word, Roni laughs lightly.  “Violet!”  She walks over to the mysterious girl, smiling wide.  “God, it’s so good to see you.”

As she approaches, she wonders if it would be polite to give Violet a hug. Are they at that level of friendship? Do they know each other that well? Is it weird?

Violet doesn’t allow any more time for Roni to overthink, instead taking charge and pulling her into her arms for a warm embrace.

It’s so ridiculously comforting,  and Roni hadn’t even realized just how badly she needed this.  When Violet pulls away, she continues to hold Roni at arm’s length, scanning her face.  “How have you been?”

“Well…”  Roni trails off, then shrugs.  “I mean.  Not great.”  She laughs.  “And you?”

“I’ve been well,” Violet replies, voice calming and warm.  “My, but it’s good to see you.”

“It’s so good to see you too, Violet.  What are you doing here?”

Violet smiles, something subconsciously shifting in her tone, though not in a bad way.  “I had a feeling I would find you here,” she explains.

“But how?”  Roni asks.  “Why today?  Why right now?”  She leans in.  “Why me?”

Violet doesn’t directly answer Roni’s question.  “I’ve come to bring you something,” she says, reaching into a satchel that rests on her hip.   “Something that might be of great value to you.”

Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up that this gift has anything to do with Harry, but it’s too late.  “Something of great value?”

“Sentimental, if anything.”

Roni can’t help but to deflate.  “Oh.”

Violet finds whatever it is that she was looking for and retrieves it from the satchel.  It seems to be a folded piece of paper, and she holds it out for Roni to take. Roni hesitates, eyeing the paper cautiously, before taking it from Violet’s hands.

“Read it,” Violet prompts.  “It might make you smile.”

Slowly, carefully, Roni unfolds the paper.  Her heart starts pounding as her mind runs through all the possibilities of what this could be.  Before the note is even fully opened, she stops when she recognizes her own handwriting.

“I know what this is,” she says, looking up at Violet slowly.

“You do,” Violet says, nodding. “Read it.”

Roni swallows down the lump in her throat, casting her eyes back to the paper and reading silently to herself.

Harry-

If you’re reading this, it means that I left.  I am safely back where I came from, proving you wrong-- just like I knew I would.  However, it seemed rude to leave without a proper goodbye.  So here it is.  I know I only stayed one night with you, but you’ve been really great. I hope your new year is “swell” or whatever it is you’d say, and that all your hopes and dreams come true. Thanks for letting me stay with you. Sorry about the black eye. Take care.

-Roni

Roni looks back up at Violet, swallowing down the lump in her throat.  “I wrote this the day after I got there,” she says, as if Violet didn’t know.

Violet nods again.  “You did.”

Roni shakes her head, feeling tears prickle at her eyes.  “I don’t understand,” she admits, shrugging in submission, as if Violet is about to play some trick on her.

“Harry’s kept it,” Violet explains, and the way she speaks of Harry in the present tense makes Roni’s heart pound.

“He’s…?”

“Kept it,” Violet repeats.  “Yes.  He found it under his bed a few days after you left.”

“Is he…” Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up, so she hesitates to ask. “I mean, are you... have you—“

“I have seen him since you left,” Violet answers, smiling knowingly. “Yes.”

Roni swallows the lump rising her throat as the wind whips her hair lightly against her cheeks. “Is he alright?” The question comes out in a whisper.

“He is alright.” Violet nods. “He misses you.”

For some reason, Violet’s words completely overwhelm Roni. She can’t stop her eyes from welling over with tears immediately , and she lets out a little choking laugh. “God,” she says, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “Does he?”

“Yes, darling.”

“I miss him so much,” Roni says, only half-heartedly attempting to stop her crying. “Can you tell him that?”

“I can.”

Roni laughs again through her tears and steps closer to Violet. “God, I’m sorry. I probably look like a mess. I just can’t believe you’re here, and I…” She trails off, looking down at the paper in her trembling hands. “It’s real,” she says, almost as if reassuring herself. “He was real. This is real.”

“It is real,” Violet says. “You didn’t imagine him.”

“I’ve felt so…”  Roni gestures vaguely as she searches for her words.  “So stupid, I guess.  I don’t know.  I haven’t been able to tell anyone the truth.  I’ve started doubting myself. I-- I mean it all just seems so crazy, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t.”  Violet shakes her head.  “Not to me.  Though I can understand the hesitation to share your experience with others.”

“And I broke up with Oliver, you know,” Roni continues.  “Oliver, my boyfriend. We were together for so long and I… I didn’t love him.  I mean I did, but not the way I love Harry. Or… loved Harry.  I guess. But I--” she laughs.  “God, I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I have in the past like, four months, and I-- I can’t even begin to tell you how good it is to see you.  To see… this.”  She gestures at the letter, then speaks again; quieter this time, as if to herself.  “Fuck, I miss him.”  

“Your feelings are completely understandable, Veronica.  And justified.  You have been through so much.  It’s only natural to feel confused.  And the connection you have with Harry transcends time itself.  But these are odd circumstances, and certainly not a situation that anyone should be expected to know how to navigate.  You are not stupid for feeling this way.”  

“No,” Roni laughs, almost bitterly.  “No, I am.  I know I am.  It’s just… god, you’re helping me so much just by being here but I--” she sniffs, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt, “I don’t know.  I know I need to move on.  I know I can’t go back to him but I want to.  More than anything else in the world.”

“What would you tell him if you could?”  Violet asks, cocking her head to the side.  

“Oh god,” Roni says, dabbing at her teary eyes.  “I would say…” she trails off, really considering  what it is exactly that she would say to Harry if given the chance.  She sighs shakily.  “I would tell him he’s the love of my life.  I would tell him he is the greatest thing that has ever and will ever happen to me in this lifetime.  In any lifetime. That I regret leaving him more than anything I’ve ever done. That I miss him.  That I love him.”

Roni doesn’t notice the way Violet’s eyes flicker behind her, because she’s still going.  “And it’s silly,” she continues, “but I have never stopped hoping he’ll come.  I cant…” she sniffs again,  “Can’t bring myself to stop. Even though I know he isn’t coming, I’ve never stopped looking for him.  I don’t know if I ever will, you know?”  

Violet smiles like she knows something that Roni doesn’t, but before Roni can even question it, a voice comes from behind her.

“Well,” it says, slow and deep. “The funny thing about that is, he’s never stopped looking for you either.”

It takes Roni a full ten seconds to even process what she’s hearing, and Violet’s all knowing smile only deepens.  Roni whirls around on her heels slowly, her feet still feel frozen into the muddy, damp ground.

And there’s Harry, as young and as handsome as ever, if not a little bit older than the last time she’s seen him.

He smiles, tears welling in his own eyes as he takes a step towards her. “In every timeline,” he says, and takes another step, “in every lifetime. He’s never stopped looking.”  He stands only a few mere feet away now, and Roni notes the single tear rolling down his cheek, contrasting his unwavering smile.

“I’ve kept my promise, bunny.”

In a whirlwind, Roni is rushing to him. She trips and stumbles a bit on the mud, falling directly into his arms. She doesn’t even bother standing upright, melting instead into his embrace and wrapping her own arms around him. He does his best to straighten her on her own feet, his arms wrapping tightly around her back, but he loses his own footing and falls ungracefully onto his back.

Neither seem to care about their tumble, and Roni crawls up his body— kissing every possible inch of visible skin she can get her lips onto.  Her tears blend into Harry’s own, and he laughs joyfully against her lips as he wraps a supportive arm around her back.

“My god,” Roni sobs into his neck. “My god, my god, what are you doing here?”

“I told you,” Harry says, not even worried about the way his voice cracks. “I never stopped looking. And I found you.”

Roni giggles a wet, teary giggle, squishing his face in her hands and fastening their lips together in a clumsy kiss. He willingly kisses her back, stabilizing her with his hands and squeezing her as if he can’t hold her tight enough.

“Harry,” she sobs, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kisses her teary cheek. “So fucking much.”

Roni presses a few more haphazard kisses to his lips, as if terrified that she’ll lose him the second she stops. She pulls away after a moment, scanning his face through her own blurry eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “how did you get here?”

Harry beams. “Some people have the gift. Some do not.”

“And you have it?!” Roni asks. “You had it this whole time?!”

Harry laughs at the urgency in Roni’s voice, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess so. Violet helped me.”

“Violet!” Roni says, suddenly remembering the witchy girl’s presence. She turns to where Violet had just been standing minutes before, and is surprised to see that she is no longer there.  Harry and Roni both scan the graveyard, but Violet is in fact nowhere to be found.  Roni furrows her brows. “Where did she go?”

Harry doesn’t reply, instead he tilts Roni’s face towards him for another smiley kiss. Roni needs absolutely no persuasion, melting right into him and sighing contentedly.

“I’m so happy,” she cries against his mouth. “So fucking happy.”

“Yeah?” Harry pulls away, tears still streaming freely down his smiling cheeks. “Me too.”

“This feels like a dream,” Roni giggles. “Genuinely. And if it is, I hope I never wake up.”

Harry giggles. “It’s not a dream, sweet girl. I’m here. And I’m staying.”

Roni scans his face for any sign of sarcasm, taken aback by his words. “You’re… staying?” She asks. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but God the thought of Harry being hers forever makes her heart pound in her own ears. “Are you serious?”

Harry beams brilliantly at her, letting go of her back to shrug. “Better be prepared to teach me a thing or two about the future, angel. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

“Oh my god.”  Roni slams her lips into Harry’s, so much so that their teeth clank together, and he chuckles lightly into her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, lips hardly moving from hers.  “I love you so fucking much.”

“I don’t understand,” Roni says, pulling back but still holding Harry in her arms.  “How did you figure it out?  I mean like, the fact that you can time travel.  How did you--”

“Trial and error,” Harry explains.  “Violet wanted me to wait a while.  She said that it would be difficult to learn if I tried right after you left.  The broken heart would make it more devastating if we failed.”  Harry smiles.  “Smart girl, Violet is.  But I couldn’t wait very long.  About a week later, we started working together to get this all sorted out.  We worked on exercises.  We worked on visualization.  We did everything.”

“And then?”

“It took some time.  Obviously.  Went to a few different places.”  He grins. “The 18th century was a lot of fun.”’

“You went that far back?”

“Sure did. Almost didn’t want to leave.”  A playful twinkle glistens in Harry’s eye. “Some old Victorian broad showed me her ankle and I was ready to propose marriage.”

Roni slaps his arm lightly.  “Shut up.”

Harry laughs, finding himself so hilarious. “M’joking,” he says.  “Of course that didn’t happen.”

“Where else did you go?” Roni asks, then softens.  “What took you so long to find me?”

“Wanted to make sure I had the technique perfected,” Harry explains.  “Wanted to be sure I knew how to control where I was going.  The first time I traveled was only to 1899, and it was quite unintentional.  The second time, I was experimenting a bit.  That’s how I ended up in 1778.  But there was a catch.”

“Which was?”

“It was a different 1778.  Not one that you’ve heard of.”

Roni looks confused.  “But… how--”

Harry grins like he knows something Roni doesn’t.  “Ever heard of parallel universes?”

Roni can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips. “Well holy shit.”

“I take it you’re familiar with the concept?”

“I am,” Roni says. “You were the one who told me about it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, then immediately furrows them in confusion. “I did? I don’t remember—“

“As an old man,” Roni explains. “I met you when you were like… 90 something.”

“Oh.” Harry’s confusion softens. “No kidding. That’s neat.”

“No but… that would mean...” Roni trails off, confusion etched into her features, as she processes everything that’s going on.  “I saw you… you were old…. you died. And Oliver said you… you always talked about this girl from your past... That would have been me, wouldn’t it?”

“I tapped into something even you couldn’t tap into.”  Harry seems proud of himself, and he flashes Roni that smug grin she’s missed so much.  

“What do you mean?”

“Alternate realities,” Harry explains.  “Shifting into another dimension.”

“But how does that--”

“In another universe, yes. Somewhere in time, your memories are true.  I was old.  I was unsuccessful in finding you. In that universe--” he gestures vaguely around the graveyard, “--I’m six feet under somewhere around here.”

Even he seems to be hit with the somberness of his words.  He takes a moment to let that sink in, and then he’s right back to his normal, cheery self.  “But!” he says.  “I shifted.  Into this reality.  With the help of Violet, I created a separate timeline.”

“At the cost of--?”

Harry sighs.  “I mean.  At the cost of some of the people I loved most back home.”  He shrugs.  “But that’s what alternate universes are for, I suppose.”

“Why couldn’t I have just… created my own alternate universe then?  In which I could have kept my mom alive AND stayed with you?  Why didn’t Violet give me that option?”

“You could have,” Harry explains.  “But there wasn’t a guarantee you could have both.  Plus, once you leave one, it is extremely difficult, if not entirely impossible, to get back. You weren’t willing or ready to make that sacrifice.  I was.”

“So we’re in a parallel universe?”

“I am.  You’re not.  You’re in your regular timeline.”

“And you--”

“Shifted into it.  Changed the fate’s design, so to speak. It did shift your timeline a bit, as far as my own existence goes. You remember me being old.  You remember Oliver attending my funeral.  But Oliver doesn’t.  No one has any memory of me, in fact.”

“So who are you to everyone then?”

“That’s the beauty of it.”  Harry grins.  “I’m whoever I want to be.  For all they know, I’m a famous singer from the UK who moved here for work.”

“Oh my god,” Roni giggles, leaning in to kiss all over his sweet, teary face once again.  

Harry smiles that dimpled smile, obviously over the moon and basking in the way she’s loving on him.

“My sweet boy,” Roni says, lips smushed just below his ear.  “My sweet, sweet boy.”

“Missed you,” Harry says quietly. “Couldn’t go on in a world without you.”

Roni bumps her nose tenderly along Harry’s. “I missed you so much.”

Harry laughs quietly to himself.  “Can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was when I ended up here.  Cried with happiness.”

“How long have you been here?”

Harry’s eyes dart up to the sky as he thinks, doing a bit of mental math in his head.  “Two days.  Give or take.”

Roni feigns offense. “And you didn’t come find me right away?!”

“Tried.  Couldn’t.  Didn’t know where you’d be.”

“But how did Violet know?”

Harry smirks.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know how she knows anything. But it seems she knows everything.”

Roni chuckles.  “Apparently so.  God.”

Harry hums, brushing Roni’s hair behind her ear and leaning in to kiss her nose.  “God, I love you,” he says.  

“I love you, too, Harry.  Thank you for finding me.”

“Promised you I would,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to the corner of her mouth.  “Was so hoping more than anything that you’d be waiting for me.”

Now Roni frowns.  “You had doubts?”

Harry shrugs.  “No.  I mean…” he trails off, eyes scanning the sweeping hills of the cemetery as he considers his words. “No.  I don’t know.  I was hopeful.”

“But…?” Roni presses, leaning into him.

“But you lived in the future.  You had--” he trails off, eyeing Roni carefully.  “--have…. A boyfriend?”  His statement turns into a question, and the look on his face makes Roni giggle.

“Had,” she answers.  “We broke up.  Very shortly after I came back.”

Harry frowns.  “M’sorry to hear that.  Was it… you know...?”

Roni shrugs.  “I was hopeful, too,” is the only answer she offers him.

“Hopeful for me?”

“Yeah.”

“You knew I’d find you.”

Roni kisses Harry’s cheek. “I hoped you would.”

“Poor bloke though. I know how hard it is to live in a world without you.”

“Somehow I think he’ll manage.” Roni giggles. “No, actually, I saw him this morning. When I was—“ She trails off, suddenly remembering the bouquet of flowers she’d bought that now lays forgotten a few feet away. Harry seems to notice them at the same time she does, and he turns back to her. He doesn’t push for her to finish her thought, he instead strokes her hair and admires the way it looks in the wind.

“I was going to put flowers on your grave,” Roni explains, sheepishly.  “I don’t know what I was thinking was going to happen.  Maybe… like, closure or something.  I don’t know.”

“Closure,” Harry repeats, smiling. “Wanted rid of the haunting memories of me then?”

Roni rolls her eyes but she giggles that giggle that Harry has dreamt about every night since she’d left.  “No, god, of course not,” she laughs.  “It’s just that living with the weight of how much I missed you…”  She trails off again, and Harry can see the gears turning in her head as she immediately processes another thought.  “I still don’t understand,” she says.  “I never believed you when you told me.  You as an old man, I mean.  I’d brushed it off.  I hadn’t thought it was realistic.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to feign offense.  “As realistic as time travel.”

“I know,” Roni giggles again.  “It’s just that you were old when you told me.  I didn’t know you.”

Harry grins now.  “Was I a handsome old bastard?”

Roni’s giggles turn into full belly laughs.  “I mean, I was like, sixteen.  So I didn’t think so, no.”

“Bollocks,” Harry curses, and Roni snorts.

“This is insane,” she says, shaking her head.  “I’m talking to you about… well, you… but as an old man. Memories I have of you, that you didn’t even exist for.  But you did.  I don’t know.”

Harry nods.  “It’s an odd thing,” he agrees.  “An odd situation we find ourselves in for sure.”

Roni hums in agreement, and a moment of comfortable silence falls between the two. She giggles after a moment, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her fingers and kissing his lips again, slow and smiley.

“God,” she says, when she finally pulls away. “I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

Harry pulls that cheeky look of his that Roni’s missed so much, wiggling his eyebrows.  “You want me to pinch you, honey?”  He squeezes lightly at her sides and she squeals, wiggling out of his grasp.  He beams at the sound, wrapping an arm around her quickly and pulling her right back into him before smooching all over her cheeks and her nose.  “C’mere,” he growls playfully.  “Not getting away from me that easily.  Never again.”

She continues to giggle, submitting completely  to him as he tilts her head and kisses her.  They laugh into one another’s mouths, their giggles dying down as their kisses increase in intensity.   His tongue trails along her bottom lip, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly Roni grants him access to her own tongue.  She’s missed his taste more than she’d ever thought it possible, and she can’t help but to moan when her tongue slides along his.

“Fuck,” she whispers, completely unaware of the fact that she’s crying again.

“Hey,” Harry coos, pulling away and cupping her face with his hands.  “Stop that.  No more of that.  No more crying.”  He swipes at the tears under her eyes, stroking her cheek bones as lovingly as he can. There is no way to convey exactly how he’s feeling right now; he’s just so in love with her and so relieved to be holding her again. Seeing her cry, indicative that she feels the exact same way, makes his heart both sink and soar, and his eyes well up with tears all over again.

They both realize he’s crying too at the exact same time, and they laugh at how silly they’re both being. Harry, still holding Roni’s face in his hands, continues to wipe at her tears while she reaches up to wipe at his.  They continue to laugh and cry and kiss, holding one another as close as they possibly can and forgetting about the entire world around them.

After a little while, Harry pushes himself to his feet with a little grunt. Roni immediately misses his warmth, which is pathetic, she knows.  She can’t help the little whine that escapes past her lips as she reaches for him, and he chuckles as he takes her hand in his. “I’ll be right back, honey, I promise.”  He gives her hand a quick squeeze before turning on his heel to go retrieve her discarded bouquet of flowers.

Roni watches him, so completely enamored and in love with him as he walks.  He’s dressed sort of funky, not quite in his 1920s style but definitely outdated by today’s standards.  He isn’t wearing his cap that she’s missed so much, but his curls are styled messily-- which isn’t helped at all by the wind.  He looks so handsome. So soft.  So him.

Her Harry.

She still feels like she’s dreaming in all honesty, and as she keeps her eyes glued to him she revels in the fact that he’s here. This person that she’s quite literally ached for for months now, the person she didn’t think she could possibly live without, the person she never thought she’d see again— he’s here. He found his way back to her because he loves her. It simply doesn’t feel real.

Harry picks up the bouquet and buries his nose in them, taking a big inhale and smiling to himself with the cutest dimpled smile.  He looks back to see Roni— his sweet Veronica sitting there on the grass, wind whipping her hair and a silly, sweet smile on her face.  He’s overwhelmed, really, and he walks quickly to close the space between him and his girl.  

When Harry arrives by Roni’s side he plops right back down beside her, kissing both cheeks and the tip of her nose. When he pulls away, he’s smiling softly, and he nods down to the bouquet in his hands. “These were for me?”

“Yeah,” Roni says, somewhat bashfully. “I mean… for your grave. So. Yeah, for you but like… not? I don’t know.”

Harry chuckles, humming as he nods. “Mm.”  He reaches into the cheap paper that holds the bouquet together and fingers lightly at a petal. “These are lilies.”

Roni, impressed by his knowledge of botany, smiles. “They are, yeah! How’d you know?”

Harry laughs. “Wasn’t born yesterday, Veronica, for heaven’s sake,” he teases.  “In fact, I was born….” Harry scrunches his face, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “About a hundred and one years ago I think!”

“Holy shit,” Roni says, doing the math in her own head. “So you’re… old.”

“Technically, I suppose,” Harry chuckles. “But also, not actually.”  He kisses her temple,  then reaches into the paper bouquet.  Roni wonders briefly what he’s doing, until she sees him snap a lily off of its stem.  It looks so delicate between his fingers it makes her shiver, and she hardly has time to register what he’s doing before he’s tucking it gently behind her ear. He moves slowly, his thick fingers brushing lovingly against her skin.  

Harry’s eyes scan her face, and in this moment Roni has never felt more loved. He cups her jaw and runs his thumb along her cheek, his green eyes still wet with tears. He hums, his mouth looking so irresistibly delicious, and Roni holds his eye contact with bated breath, waiting for him to do something.

“You are so beautiful,” he says softly, almost more to himself than to her. “My beautiful girl.”

“Your beautiful girl,” Roni repeats, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for finding me.”

“I’ll always find you, Veronica.”  Harry drops his hand from her jaw and wraps it around her smaller hand that’s placed in her lap. “In every timeline,” he leans in and kisses her forehead, “in every lifetime,” he kisses her nose, “I will find you,” her lips, “and I will love you with everything I have to give until my heart stops beating.”  He kisses her lips again, slower this time, before resting his forehead to hers and allowing his eyes to close.

They sit like this, silently drinking in one another’s presence, and when a tear slips down Roni’s cheek neither of them mention it.  Harry presses velvety kisses to Roni’s lips every few seconds or so, and even he’s crying after a bit.  

No words are spoken, but no words are necessary.  In fact, it doesn’t feel like there would be any words to even begin to describe the happiness in both of their hearts presently. Roni swallows down a lump in her throat and giggles, sniffling a bit.

“God,” she says, “I think I’ve cried more in the past few months than I have in my entire life.”

“Well we’re fixing that,” Harry says, pulling away and wiping at her tears. “Effective immediately. No more tears. From here on out.”

“You promise?”

“Only happy ones. I promise.”

Roni licks her lips, then leans back in to kiss him again. “I like the sound of that.”

They stay like this for a while, disregarding the way it’s getting colder by the minute and the way that the tiny bit of sun that’s peeking through the clouds is beginning to dip behind the treetops. Roni catches him up one everything that’s happened in her life since she’d left him, and Harry tells her all about all the adventures he’s had while trying to find her. They laugh, and they continue to cry on and off (which makes them laugh harder) until Harry finally notices Roni shiver subconsciously at a gust of wind.

“Getting colder,” he observes, then adds “perhaps we should get out of here.”

Roni hums in agreement. “We should.  You’ve got to meet my grandparents.”

Harry’s face changes into somewhat amused confusion. “Already?”

“What?” Roni says, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her jeans. “If you’re going to be staying with us you’re going to have to meet them eventually.”

“Yes, but….” Harry rises to his feet as well. “Don’t you think we ought to do this right? I mean, they don’t know me, you’ve just broken up with your long term boyfriend, they’re going to think I’m a creep.”

Roni giggles. “They won’t. I promise. I’ll say you’re a friend from college who’s recently moved to town. We caught up today and you needed a place to stay for a bit. They won’t care.”

“They won’t think it’s… I don’t know, improper?”

“You’ve never met my grandparents,” Roni says.  “They’re like the chillest people ever.”

When she’s met with only a look of pure confusion on Harry’s face, she laughs again. “You’re in the twenty-first century now, Harry. It’s your turn to adapt.” She lightly pinches his side, causing him to laugh.

“Suppose so,” Harry giggles, taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers.  “Lots to learn.  I have a feeling you’re an excellent teacher, though.”

Roni smiles, swinging their hands as they fall into step, walking along the gravel road winding through the cemetery.  “Well, I’ll do my best,” she says.  “It’s the least I can do for you after you bent the laws of time itself to come and find me and all that.”

“Exactly,” Harry says, nodding.  “Although I won’t lie to you, Veronica, I’m a bit nervous to get it all sorted out.”

Roni gives Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze.  “Don’t be,” she replies.  “We don’t have to have it all sorted out. When have we ever had anything sorted out?”  She laughs quietly to herself.  “I’ve come to find that life is much better unplanned.”

“Yeah?”  Harry squints, eyes scanning the vast hills as the wind whips his curls messily.  “Well, I’ve come to find that you’re right about most things.”

The silence that follows is comforting and soft, but both are thinking the exact same thing.  Sure, it is a bit terrifying to start a life together--properly--like this.  Harry is here to stay, and as wonderful and exciting as that is, they both know it’s going to be hard work.  He’s going to have to adapt, and it isn’t going to be easy.  He’s starting from scratch.  No job, no house, nothing.

But he does have his honey by his side.  And somehow that’s enough.

They exit the cemetery, hand in hand, and Harry tries his best not to look so clueless as he observes the world around him.  Roni is patient and gentle with him, answering any questions he has and giggling when he makes jokes.  They’ve fallen into their comfortable swing of things that they’ve both missed so deeply, and Harry reckons that with his Veronica holding his hand, he can conquer anything.

As they approach Roni’s grandparents’ house, however, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach begin to act up.  His hands grow sweaty and he hopes Roni doesn’t notice.  (She does.)  He wipes his free hand on the thigh of his trousers and swallows, slowing the pace of  his walking until he stops altogether.

He looks up at the big house, daunting but quaint and surrounded by a completely innocent looking white picket fence, and he can feel Roni watching him.  She’s nervous, too, he knows it.  She gives his hand a squeeze before letting go, and his hand falls dully to his side.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Roni asks quietly.  “I mean, are you sure this is what you want?  To be here, in a different time, re-learning the world and the people in it?”

Harry turns to her now.  “Of course this is what I want,” he insists, almost defensively. “I just… it’s a bit more scary close up, isn’t it?”

Roni knows he isn’t talking about the house.

“It is,” she says slowly, after a beat.  “But, if I know anything for sure, it’s that you and I make an excellent team.  Whatever the circumstance, we can navigate it together, even if we haven’t got a clue what the right answer is. Somehow I know we’re always going to figure it out.”  She lowers her voice, stepping in closer to Harry.  “You’re the bravest, most wonderful man I know, Harry.  You’re going to be fine.”

He turns to her, smiling as he swallows down the nauseous feeling in his throat.   She beams.  “You’re going to be just fine,” she repeats.

Harry reaches forward, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to each of her knuckles.  “Alright,” he says quietly.  “I’m ready.”

Roni smiles, squeezing his hand again and taking a deep breath in through her nose.  “To our new life,” she says.

“To our future,” Harry adds.  “To… forever.”

Roni nods.  “Forever.  Yeah.”

With deep breaths and trembling fingers, Harry and Roni step though the little gate surrounding the yard of the house and make their way onward.  Into their future.  Into the intimidating uncertainty of navigating a life brought on by such unique and odd circumstances.  Two souls, interwoven and transcending time and space itself for the chance to be together, taking on the new set of challenges that await them because they have each other.

No matter where they end up in any lifetime, together or apart, they will always find one another somewhere in time.

[kellyvela]

Has GRRM ever said in any interview or on his blog that he hates Sansa's complete storyline after 4th season? I dont really follow all of his fan/media interactions but from what I can recall he has spoken abt how LF in books wont give sansa to ramsay or how noone had issue when Jeyne was given the Ramsay storyline in books etc. Asking this question to you bcs you rightly point out how ppl misunderstood his interviews/posts ( sansans/targ stans etc) & I cant recall him ever saying he 'hates' sansa's story in the later seasons of the show ( not s5 in particular but even s6 to s8).

Capclave 2013:

A change that has repercussions for season 4 is Marillion’s tongue removal from the first season. Martin said that the change was made (from an anonymous singer being the victim of a de-tonguing) because they wanted Joffrey to maim someone the audience would recognize. He believes this is an issue because of the part the singer plays in Sansa’s storyline, how he affects her interactions with others in the book, and he doesn’t believe another character will be fulfilling that role on Game of Thrones.

—GRRM talks season 4 & beyond - Winter is Coming - October 13, 2013

2014 Fan Reports about Capclave 2013 (*):

In a convention panel this year, George said on the record that he had no idea what they were doing with Sansa or where they’re taking her storyline, which now makes sense perhaps. He was not pleased when he was talking about it, so who knows what’s going to happen with her! Knowing GRRM, that could mean they’re going off the canon reservation, and/or that they’re going to be making a lot of shit up

I have notes I’ll be responding to (thanks!) but enough people commented about Sansa that I thought I’d share that tidbit, since it happened back in September iirc (was the same panel where he criticized the exclusion of Tyrell brothers)

—starkalypse - June 3, 2014

GRRM’s comments at capclave about Sansa (which I was in the third row for, for those asking about legitimacy) were among others during the panel that had a general theme of dissatisfaction with show changes. He was not in good spirits for that con and didn’t really have anything positive to say regarding the show. So take it with a grain of salt; there are deviations away from the books in the episodes he gets writers credit for, so maybe they’re doing something stupid or they really don’t have a gameplan!

—starkalypse - June 4, 2014

(*) These reports were posted in June 2014, during the airing of Game of Thrones Season 4, about Capclave 2013 that happened in October 2013.

Just after the rape episode:

How many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Three, in the novel. One, in the movie. None, in real life: she was a fictional character, she never existed. The show is the show, the books are the books; two different tellings of the same story.

There have been differences between the novels and the television show since the first episode of season one. And for just as long, I have been talking about the butterfly effect. Small changes lead to larger changes lead to huge changes. HBO is more than forty hours into the impossible and demanding task of adapting my lengthy (extremely) and complex (exceedingly) novels, with their layers of plots and subplots, their twists and contradictions and unreliable narrators, viewpoint shifts and ambiguities, and a cast of characters in the hundreds.

There has seldom been any TV series as faithful to its source material, by and large (if you doubt that, talk to the Harry Dresden fans, or readers of the Sookie Stackhouse novels, or the fans of the original WALKING DEAD comic books)… but the longer the show goes on, the bigger the butterflies become. And now we have reached the point where the beat of butterfly wings is stirring up storms, like the one presently engulfing my email.

Prose and television have different strengths, different weaknesses, different requirements.

David and Dan and Bryan and HBO are trying to make the best television series that they can.

And over here I am trying to write the best novels that I can.

And yes, more and more, they differ. Two roads diverging in the dark of the woods, I suppose… but all of us are still intending that at the end we will arrive at the same place.

In the meantime, we hope that the readers and viewers both enjoy the journey. Or journeys, as the case may be. Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons.

—The Show, the Books - Not A Blog - May 18, 2015

Report about the last Game of Thrones Script that GRRM wrote:

No Wedding for Sansa and Ramsay: Without question, one of the most controversial changes the show made in trying to streamline the books was by slotting Sansa into the role of Ramsay’s wife and rape victim in Season 5. In the books, Ramsay marries and assaults Sansa’s best childhood friend, Jeyne Poole—who is being forced to impersonate Arya—instead. (You can actually see Jeyne briefly sitting next to Sansa in the show’s pilot.)

At the time Martin wrote this script, though, substituting Sansa for Jeyne was not yet the plan. Martin has Roose Bolton tell his bastard son: “We have a much better match in mind for you. A match to help House Bolton hold the north. Arya Stark.” It should be noted, however, that in Martin’s script, Sansa isn’t free from menace either. At his own wedding-day breakfast, Joffrey still threatens to rape the older Stark sister—once he’s “gotten Margaery with child.”)

—Game of Thrones: The Secrets of George R.R. Martin’s Final Script - Vanity Fair - December 7, 2018

A month before the Game of Throne S8 Finale:

Sansa’s story, in particular, has really deviated from the books. Ramsay Bolton — that marriage obviously was with a different character. When they start deviating like that, did you initially have any emotional reaction, even though you worked in Hollywood for many years yourself?

GRRM: Well, yeah — of course you have an emotional reaction. I mean, would I prefer they do it exactly the way I did it? Sure. But I’ve been on the other side of it, too. I’ve adapted work by other people, and I didn’t do it exactly the way they did it, so ….

Some of the deviation, of course, is because I’ve been so slow with these books. I really should’ve finished this thing four years ago — and if I had, maybe it would be telling a different story here. It’s two variations of the same story, or a similar story, and you get that whenever anything is adapted. The analogy I’ve often used is, to ask how many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Do you know the answer to that?

I know it’s different in the book and the movie …

GRRM: Three children in the book, one by each husband. She had one child in the movie. And in real life, of course, Scarlett O’Hara had no children, because she never existed. Margaret Mitchell made her up. The book is there. You can pick it up and read Mitchell’s version of it, or you can see the movie and see David Selznick’s version of it. I think they’re both true to the spirit of the work, and hopefully that’s also true of Game of Thrones on one hand, and A Song of Ice and Fire on the other hand.

—George R.R. Martin on the Stark Sisters and Ending ‘Game of Thrones’ - RollingStone - April 22, 2019

James Hibberd’s Book:

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: Jeyne Poole was included in the pilot—she’s shown giggling next to Sansa—but she’s never seen or referred to again. I actually wrote Jeyne into “The Pointy End,” my first script, when Arya killed the stableboy. I had some stuff with Jeyne running to Sansa being all hysterical and dialogue in the council chamber with Littlefinger saying, “Give her to me, I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.” That was dropped.

DAVID BENIOFF: Sansa is a character we care about almost more than any other. We really wanted Sansa to play a major part in that season. If we were going to stay absolutely faithful to the book, it was going to be very hard to do that. There was a subplot we loved from the books, but it was a character not involved in the show.

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: I was trying to set up Jeyne for her future role as the false Arya. The real Arya has escaped and is presumed dead. But this girl has been in Littlefinger’s control for years, and he’s been training her. She knows Winterfell, has the proper northern accent, and can pose as Arya. Who the hell knows what a little girl you met two years ago looks like? When you’re a lord visiting Winterfell, are you going to pay attention to the little kids running around? So she can pull off the impersonation. Not having Jeyne, they used Sansa for that. Is that better or worse? You can make your decision there. Oddly, I never got pushback for that in the book because nobody cared about Jeyne Poole that much. They care about Sansa.

—Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon: Game of Thrones and the Official Untold Story of the Epic Series by James Hibberd - October 6, 2020

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: My Littlefinger would have never turned Sansa over to Ramsay. Never. He’s obsessed with her. Half the time he thinks she’s the daughter he never had—that he wishes he had, if he’d married Catelyn. And half the time he thinks she is Catelyn, and he wants her for himself. He’s not going to give her to somebody who would do bad things to her. That’s going to be very different in the books.

—Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon: Game of Thrones and the Official Untold Story of the Epic Series by James Hibberd - October 6, 2020

I hope it helps you.

Thanks for your message.

[treasure-hwa]

sparkling wine and cake

pairing: seonghwa x g.neutral reader

genre: fluff

synopsis: Seonghwa could not ask for a better way of spending new year's eve.

word count: 1755

author's note: is it good, you ask me. It's better than nothing, I answer. I should have posted it on January 1st, but I didn't, so enjoy it now, 14 days into the new year.

Winter felt way colder and sadder when there was not a cozy place full of cheerful people to spend new year’s eve. The place Seonghwa lived in felt emotionless and chilly, even though the heater was on.

He focused on baking the chocolate cake he decided to bake just so he could distract himself from the sting burning on his chest. Not being able to spend new year’s eve with his family was painful and the man cursed his boss for demanding, in the last minute, he worked on December 30th and the afternoon of the first day of the year. Seonghwa had booked a flight to his hometown, but, due to work, he had to call it off, and booking a flight on new year's eve was impossible.

His friends were also already busy, and Seonghwa didn't want to bother them, so, that night, it would be only him, the chocolate cake and maybe a glass of sparkling wine toasted with the wind the moment the clock hit 00:00.

It's how it's gonna be, he thought to himself while cleaning the kitchen's counter, it will be fine, I can video call my parents later. But when you least expect, things happen, don't they?

Around 10:30pm, the doorbell rang, and Seonghwa, without hurry, went to the door, getting a big surprise when he opened it.

— Hey, happy new year.

— Y/N?

— I know, it's not 2021 yet, but whatever. Can I come in? I brought some… snacks. — You showed him a convenience store white plastic bag you had on your hand.

— Sure, come in. What did you bring? — You shared a quick hug before the boy took the bag from you, taking it to the kitchen.

You left your shoes and coat, full of little white dots of snow, on the specific places and came into the house, sighing when the warm air welcomed you.

— Sparkling wine, Pringles and chocolate. — You sat on the couch, stretching your legs and your red and green striped sock clad feet.

— Nice. Why are you here? Not trying to be rude, of course — He hurried to correct himself in case you misunderstood him.

— I came here to spend new year's eve with you, Hwa, obviously.

— But why? What about your family? — the man questioned, putting the sparkling wine bottle on the refrigerator and taking out the one he already had, pouring the golden liquid on two glasses.

— Split up. My sister is with her boyfriend, my brother with his friends and mom and dad are with their respective new partners.

— I am sorry, I guess. — Seonghwa came to the living room, sat beside you and handed you the glass, pouting and touching your arm gently with his free hand.

— It's okay. — You smiled and, even though it was kind of a broken one, you seemed content enough, more content when you sipped on the sparkling wine. — At least we are together.

He smiled with the ending words, finally realizing he would start 2021 near someone really important to him.

You and the man met on the train station two years ago. The place was crowded and both were moving to the big city because of great job offers, something they couldn't find in their respective hometowns. Everybody was waiting for cabs and, when one stopped in front of you and you opened the car's door, you saw a breathless guy running towards you.

"Please, let me take this one. I am already so late to meet my new landlord."

"Well, me too, but… we can share the cab, what do you think? I go first, then you go."

He agreed, thanked your gentleness and got into the cab, rearranging his luggage on the available space. Two days later, you met at the local bakery and discovered you lived next to each other. The rest was story.

— Is there cake? Your house smells like cake.

— Yep, I’m just waiting for it to cold down.

A moment of silence.

— What are your plans?

— Watching a movie, eating cake and drinking sparkling wine during the whole night, maybe getting a little drunk. — He shrugged his shoulders. — Sounds good or do you want to do anything else?

— Anything sounds good with you, Hwa.

Maybe Seonghwa had melted and his heart lost a beat. If he was totally honest, he would say he has a crush on you, and what had just been said wasn't exactly healthy for his situation.

Giving a shy smile, he turned the TV on and handed you the remote control to choose something worthy enough of watching during that time of the year. A Christmas themed romcom was just starting, so you decided on watching it, focusing completely. Or it seemed like you were: the man was trying so hard not to wrap his arm around you, who wanted to lay your head on his shoulder so bad.

And why don’t they just do it? Because they do not know the other reciprocates their feelings. Dumb? Yes. What if they get rejected and lose the other’s friendship? It is a no no.

You felt like you were building the courage to rest your body on him, but he got up in the wrong moment, asking if you wanted cake, talking about all the process he went to make it. Externally, you smiled and said “sure”. Mentally, you cursed.

When he came back to the living room, his hands were full with two plates of chocolate cake and a bottle of sparkling wine. After helping him, you were again seated beside each other, trying to fill your minds with something other than the warmth the other was giving away, which was proved incredibly hard for him, since he could not not pay attention on her giggles every time the main couple on the TV did something cute, she kept biting her lips to fight the urge to smile wide, and he did the same because she was so cute while watching romance things — there was a reason why he never got tired of watching k-dramas along with her.

— Hwa… Hwa! — he got out of his own in-love trance after hearing the cause of it calling him. — It’s almost midnight already!

— Is it? What time is it?

— Three minutes to midnight. Come with me.

— What? Where?

You smiled and took his hands. It was now or never. I don’t care if he rejects me, I need him to know my feelings, it’s my new year resolution. You opened the glass door that gave way to the balcony and pushed Seonghwa gently on the side grid.

— Y/N, what are you doing?

— Just wait, okay?

He nodded, hugging you and rubbing your back when he saw you shivering because of the cold. Maybe skinship was not that strong on your relationship, however both of you were okay with it, you kind of wished it would happen often, so every time you touched hands or shared a hug felt like you had ascended to heaven. Your heart felt lighter and you could not help your big smile.

— Too cold? — Seonghwa questioned in a low voice, still rubbing your back with his delicate, big hands. — Should we go back inside.

— A little, but no. I have something to say.

From the TV inside the apartment, you heard a commercial initiating the countdown.

“10, 9, 8…”

You took the man’s hands, holding and caressing them like they were made of crystal. He smiled, not thinking too much of it, just appreciating the physical contact his crush was giving him.

Now or never. Now or never. Now or never!

— I like you, Hwa! Please, accept my feelings.

“7, 6, 5…”

He said nothing, too shocked to form words. Nevertheless, you kept going:

— I’m going to kiss you now. You can push me away if you want.

“4, 3…”

— Would never dare. — He breathed out the three words and cupped your face.

“2, 1… Happy new year!”

You took a step forward, gently tugging on his neck so your lips could meet in the most desired kiss in the past months. Your lips fit his plump and pinkish ones perfectly, as it was meant to be. His mouth tasted sweet, both from the cake and the sparkling wine. His hands held your face fearing it was a dream. Fireworks exploded in the sky, as it did in your stomachs.

However, you broke the kiss to hide your face on Seonghwa’s shoulder, and not knowing what happened, he hugged and asked loud enough to be heard:

— What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t like?

— I don’t like fireworks. Too loud!

Without wasting more time, he took you back inside and closed the balcony door. Leaving you on the couch, Seonghwa went to the kitchen and got the other bottle of sparkling wine, opening it without making a mess, and the Pringles and chocolate you had brought. He put those things on top of the center table and filled your glasses, proposing a toast in the name of the new year.

— It brought me love already, so I just want peace, health and success for the world.

— Cheers! — You lifted your glass happily, but got scared by another loud firework.

Chuckling, he sat beside you and finally cuddled your body on his.

— No need to be scared, I’m here to protect you now.

— My hero — you joked, sipping your gold alcoholic drink to hide your nervousness. He kissed me because he likes me too, right? He said he would never dare to push me away, so it is reciprocated, right?

Interrupting your thoughts, Seonghwa pecked your lips, cupping your face and pulling away before you could even notice.

— I didn’t say it outside, but I like you too, and if you want the first change of the year… I can be it for you.

Was it really happening?

— Pinch me first. — Giggling, he pinched and kissed your cheek. — Definitely real. I want it.

— Happy new year, Hwa.

— Happy new year, dear.

And this was how they spent the night: drinking sparkling wine and mixing Pringles, chocolate and cake, stealing quick shy salty and sweet pecks from each other. Finally, two lonely hearts met and began to beat in sync.

- [happy new year] -

[pompompurin1028]

Oh my God!! I had never thought of it that way, that’s awesome! Good catch, Kat :o

That is so true, we read Yozo’s life and deeds completely through his own eyes therefore we can’t treat it as an objective narrative. When this is combined with all the analyses you made yesterday, it’s all coming together and this is the best feeling ever, when I first read your response I went crazy with euphoria😭

And exactly! We can definitely distinguish these two narratives -Yozo’s and the woman’s- in the last scene under the sunset. Dazai, for some reason, always denies his good intentions and is “blinded to his better side” as you said and I totally adore this way of putting it. I really hope Atsushi will be able to bring him back to reality😔

I mean, of course he’s not the most snow white person out there, he still has really gray morals, but isn’t this already an incredible step considering that he was born in pitch black? He needs to see how much he’s achieved since then, but he still feels guilty and this totally blocks the good parts of his journey in his mind, which is probably why he always has that façade to keep him from breaking down. Just like how Yozo had this façade of “clowning” even though he was feeling empty inside all while entertaining people and seeming so cheerful. This clowning thing was a really beautiful parallelism between BSD Dazai and Yozo.

Exactly😭 For someone as traumatised as Atsushi, that poor cinnamon roll is really so precious with his amount of trust and kindness🥺 And yeah… There’s no way I would be able to 100% restore my trust for him -if I had it in the first place, of course, you never know with Dazai😂-, I would question constantly if he’s planning new things with several villains “for the sake of the city”, and this is just what Atsushi says, he denies this as well like what- then why😭 He owes a really good explanation to the ADA, tbh. I hope they treat this subject in S3 or I’ll get really mad if he just gets away with it as if people didn’t die because of his shenanigans😤

And oh my God! I never knew that! This is really intriguing, I’m totally on Dazai-sensei’s side on this matter, Run, Melos! will be so interesting to read :o And as always, I’d love to read your analysis on it😌

And that’s so true😞 His plans are always so complex and detailed that if the littlest thing goes wrong, it would all be over, I mean, trusting that Chuuya punches him in the face or he’ll die?? He’s really walking on thin ice there haha. Which, of course, comes with great stress. And omg I LOVED THAT ANALYSIS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING💕 I reblogged it privately to come back to it whenever I start having doubts or feeling bad about Dazai which happened way too often even before Dead Apple, I just couldn’t keep a healthy relationship with him like I do with Kunikida I have no idea why this will really be a useful thing to come back to 💫 It pains me to see that how much he suffers in reality yet he’s not even able to acknowledge that it’s not his fault😞 (you can gimme all your analyses don’t be shy👀)

I’m planning on reading this one, it has several chapters and they all seem really explanatory. (I hope linking system works in asks🤔)

Exactly, I honestly used to miss all these about Akutagawa and just overlook him, consider him as a mere invincible rabid dog with an unhealthy obsession, whose ability is just to murder. But that’s not true at all, he’s more than his ability. To be honest, I think this movie made this sentence valid for everyone, especially if the ability is too strong, one always tends to consider them as their ability and nothing else, but that’s not true, their abilities are a part of them but they don’t assure their existence. Each one of them is more than their ability and I loved seeing that, I even felt sad when Aku regained his Rashōmon😭

Haha, always!!❤️ Never hesitate to share anything about any theory/headcanon you have, I love discussing them🥰

These asks and responses are getting longer and longer but I’m not complaining😂

Thank you so much!🥺 That makes me really happy that you said that!

And yes exactly! We have to make note that the novel is written in an I-novel narrative, and like all first person perspectives, they are unreliable. And "crazy with euphoria", that makes me so happy to hear😭💕

But yes, we can clearly see the distinct difference between how Yozo sees himself, vs how the woman sees him. (Side note: And one of the reasons why I love this book despite its dark themes and narratives, is that it talks about the goodness of humanity that still exists in even the worst people. Dazai-sensei's narration of Yozo is written in a way that almost makes us hate him. But we have to always be reminded that despite this, there are goodness, even in people like Yozo, which I felt is an amazing reminder) And his own blindness to his better side is obviously self-destructive, as seen in the novel, and I believe that if Dazai continues to see this way, he will not be able to heal despite following what Oda wants him to do. No, he first has to face his past, and as you said he has to recognize how far he has come, even though he is still learning, he is still changing. Like all other characters in Dead Apple, Dazai is also facing his past, or more so an introduction to having to face his past, as I believe that Atsushi had also said that he hopes that Dazai can put his past behind him or something similar to that. And I personally feel that Dazai would have a happy ending because unlike in the novel, he has someone (Atsushi) to remind him of his goodness, the fact that he can go beyond what he is in the past. I just love Dead Apple so much😭

And the clowning part breaks my heart too... In addition to being a facade to stop others from seeing how empty he is inside, which would deviate himself from being "human". It gives me a saddening understanding that Dazai is keeping everyone at a distance. Although he wants others to understand him, and his whole existence is basically a cry for help, he fears being hurt, or at least that's what I believe how Yozo thinks. And it should be noted that the act of clowning, can also be seen in The Setting Sun as well, which he once again uses a mask to attempt to blend into society, yet knowing that he'll still be different from the rest of them

Also one thing I also realized as I am writing this is how Dazai-sensei intentionally in a sense villanizes himself (as it is semi-biographical) as well as Yozo in No Longer Human, and I can't help but wonder if this is another parallel to Dead Apple?🤔

But unfortunately, the consequences of him making that meticulous plan which endangered everyone will not be resolved, as it should be noted that this is a sort of spinoff from the main storyline. But in a sense I like the ending it gave us, as it allows open interpretation. And I feel that it also might symbolize the fact that all the main characters in the movie are still growing, are still learning and are continuing on their paths to face their pasts... And what I think is also quite important to note that is there's also a sense of trust Dazai gives to the people involved in his plans, he trusts them to make that exact move to make his plan whole. And also, what also makes me sad is that Dazai seems to be asking for forgiveness for what he did during dead apple, at least that's what it sounds like to me as he said: "Atsushi what I did earlier-"

And I totally agree that it is impossible to restore full trust back to Dazai. That itself is impossible, for it is a disillusionment, it is a stage you cannot go back to. But and I agree with Dazai-sensei, I believe that this could help Dazai see the better parts of humanity like when he said to Oda, that the good side is really more beautiful.

And I'm so glad to know that you want to save it🥺 It can definitely be hard to see Dazai's good side at times, he is quite confusing and is easily misunderstood ngl. But sometimes I think he intentionally does that so no one can see through his true intentions, to keep himself at a distance, while at the same time wanting others to see through him, to help him😔

And oo thank you for the analysis! I'll definitely have to read it soon☺ Also if you have any analysis that you'd like to discuss or want me to know, feel free to drop them in my ask box as well!

And yes exactly! That about Aku is so beautifully said.

And honestly I'm not complaining either haha. These have been quite fun🥰