#ohno the more i look at this the more i realise i did one of those jacked text thingies where you dont know which order to read the words i | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sorikkung · 1 year ago

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just had a horrible day time for a pick me up 🤩 or to fall deeper down the hole, you never know with natgig, but yk what, that can be cathartic <3

the way i immediately knew it was gonna be yeonjun... it was either gonna be his past self or yeonjun but either way his past is coming back to haunt him oh boy im ready for this to HURT

flashbacks to that one chapter w dream mingi bc That Is Not Yeonjun!! oh my fucking god. every time i think youve come up with a way to emotionally torture wooyoung in the most psychologically damaging way possible for him specifically you outdo yourself and make it worse. what the fuck. my BABY. FREE MY BOY HE DID NOTHING WRONG!!!!

"He deserves this." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Or maybe you really are as useless as he claims.” you really said "lets aim for every single trauma wound we can fit in one character then stab 85 different needles into each one <3" w him didntcha

oh no. oh no. that isn't seonghwa either isnt it. theres no way there'd be such a sudden jump to him being saved already. oh no. oh nonononono. oh noonoonononononooooononon. ohno

yeah look if wooyo been thinking abt seonghwa choking him out while he kisses him then like me the fuck too, but also, ouch. SDJKFSDKFHS

“That if anyone were able to love something as fucked up as you, maybe it would be me.” OH OUCH WHAT THE FUCK DUDE THAT SHIT HURTED 😭😭😭😭😭

its gonna be san then mc isnt it. ohhh man. oh man. oop. its san. fuckfuckfuck

OH. OH. OHHH MY GOD. BC THEY DIDNT NEED TO COME UP WITH THE MOST EMOTIONALLY DAMAGING THING SAN COULD SAY TO HIM - HE ALREADY SAID IT ALL. SO THE NEXT WORST THING IS JUST. LOSING HIM COMPLETELY. HIM BEING DEAD. OHHHH THAT WAS SO EVIL CORYNN I AM GRABBING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS AND SHAKING YOU LIKE A FUCKING FISHHHH

im still sussy of winter bc shes the only one we've seen Actually hold this kind of resentment towards him like the dream/nightmare state or whatever dont even needa twist Her behaviour LMFAOoo

there she is. man, with the very knife he took from her, how symbolic... also i never thought the words "I do too." could be SO FUCKING DEVASTATING and Y E T. AND YET!!!

yk i just realised we still dont know who the dark army are or why they want mc yet do we??? well presumably to finish what they started but like. i was gonna say or their beef w libaiya but. we know enough to guess why anyone could have beef w libaiya HSDKFJGKSJD but like man why are they willing to go to such lengths who the fuck are these people this whole time!! im so curious!! what are they fighting for!!

San wants his sword back. San also knows that he isn’t thinking about weapons anymore.

UGH I LOVE A GOOD COMPARISON LIKE THAT!!!!

hwa asking him to talk abt how they met just to pass the time n feel a bit better oh my god what is it about that thats so cute and precious ahh 🥺🥺🥺 also very clever way in getting the readers to the exposition on this without adding another entire triggering event for it hehe

“But then Woo showed up,” Seonghwa says softly. “Yeah,” San breathes, unable to help the smile that curves across his lips. “But then Woo showed up.”

ugh that pacing hit like a TRUCK 😩😩😩😩😩

THATS KIND OF PATHETIC DONT YOU THINK SHKJAJKDKJFG OH MY GODDD THOSE ARE SUCH GOOD FIRST WORDS. I LOVE AN ICONIC INTRO I LOVE THAT SM

He simply needs Woo there. Even when it’s wrong, even when he knows it’s an awful, gut-wrenching codependence at times. He needs him.

nothing i love more in fiction than awful, gut-wrenching codependence like yaaaas kings make each other WORSE do it in the name of LOVE thats just as destructive as it is restorative WOOOO

Yes, San knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa. San just didn’t know that Woo knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa.

one of my favourite relationship dynamics honestly

"If there is any scenario San could imagine Woo confronting his feelings, it’s in a fit of rage." YEAH THATS WOOYOCORE ALRIGHT SHJKDFGHKFAKGHSKDHGKSJDFGJ LOVE THAT

oh damn hwa aint even had his gay awakening yet huh. you in for a real storm with this one brother! KDJFJKSHKJSKDFHK- [SPITS OUT DRINK] HE COULD WHAT. OH MY GOD. OH MY GODDDDDD ITS HAPPENINGGGG ITS FUCKING HAPPENINGGGGG!!!!!!! HOLY SHIIIIIT!!!!!

"Seonghwa is not upset that Woo confessed to loving him, he’s upset that he didn’t do so tenderly." THATS SO FUCKING RAW OH MY GODDDD san real observant for that one BUT ALSO MY HEART SPLIT IN HALF!!!!

"More than anything, San makes sure that the kiss is tender. " WHAT IF I PISSED MY PANTS SO HARD I DIED!!!! WHAT THEN, CORYNN!!!! WHAT FUCKING THEN!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK THERE IT FUCKING IIIIIIIIIIIS OH BOY HE DID ITTTT FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUKCFUCK

“And why do you think that is, Hwa?” "Oh." HKSFDGKLJSDJKFGJKSDFGKJ FUCKING, GOTTEM

okay that was so tender and gentle and soft and

IM FINE.

there Is something freeing about confessing to your crush, even if they dont reciprocate, i feel that. getting real relevant in this chilis HSJKDKFGJKDJK OH MY GOD MC NOOO.

oh fuck i completely forgot abt minho's elixir. i also forgot what it does. hol up do i needa go back... ok i went back. cool so we dont know what it does! but i assume its going to be what gets us and the crew outta here alive.

KEEP MINGIS NAME OUT OF YOUR WHORE MOUTH COMMANDER!!!!! also i wonder if that ravine will come into play later. just a random hunch. surely it was mentioned for a reason?

cool so the dark army are just working under orders. i mean expectedly enough but theres no patriotism involved huh just some hidden big bad paying em to do it. hmmm :/

whew i knew sanhwa would show up in the nick of time fuck yeah side by side fight scene i love this shit!! pretty fitting that seonghwa first ever takes a life in a moment as dire as this. hes being so strong rn 🥺🥺 they all are 🥺🥺🥺 can you tell im extra emotional today.

A man swings at you, and you push backwards against San to avoid the swipe. You worry it will cause San to tumble, but instead he sinks lower on knees, flattening his back. Using it for support, you fall back and into the air, giving the man in front of you a firm kick to the chest that sends him backwards, crashing into a few of the men behind him.

this part is so cool and vivid youre back at it again w the sick action scenes 😩😩

a mere MONTH??? i thought it had been a couple months on the road at least damn this shit went by quickly hsjkdkjgskg

"You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again. " ooh bitch CHILLING!!!

ok there is something so fucking cool about wooyoung being the commanders last resort. not some other dark magic shit to make Him more powerful, but to use wooyoung as a weapon because he knows wooyoung is the most powerful one here. so this basically means they were smart in capturing wooyoung first - or maybe just lucky - cause theoretically he could've taken down this entire battalion himself, just like it was the wardens army. hes an absolute fucking wildfire and thats kinda sexy of him tbh

omg is that the first theyve heard wooyoungs name thats so AAAAAAAAAAAA PULLING ALL MY HAIR OUT THIS IS SO PAIN BUT SO GOOD

“Because, Wooyoung,” you say. “He deserves it.”

BANGER! BANGER! ABSOLUTE FUCKING BANGER, ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS, PERFECT BUILD UP, WORDING, DELIVERY, STANDING OVATION, SOMEONE GIVE THIS BITCH A GODDAMN GRAMMY OR SOMETHING THE CROWD GOES WIIIIIIIIIIIILD

i knew the ravine would be relevant and wow that visual is so picturesque, even if i dont think he deserved the swiftness to his demise </3

"Fuck." WHAT A PERFECT CLOSING TO THE CHAPTER SHJDFGAJDKJGSKJFGKSKDGKJSDFGK wow. what a climax. i mean was that even a climax we still dont know who the employer is or what will happen when they reach kuroku but that was sure a climax if not The climax... sheesh im outta breath just reading that. or that might be from coughing up a lung but imma give you the credit bc fuck this cold and this chapter was fucking awesome. angst fluff action all in one you really giving the bitches Everything. its me im bitches. dunno if my reaction is shorter than usual this time ive been so out of it but i really really enjoyed that one you know i always enjoy the wooyoung centric chapters that shits like crack to me <33 knocked it out of the park once again, cant wait to see where it goes from here!

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 11

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Eleven: a broken conscience, tenderness, and a final confrontation.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 16.2k

extra chapter warnings: themes of self-hatred, brief mention of suicide. heed the violence warning for this one.

chapter summary:

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

a/n: me apologizing for taking eons to write is getting a bit old, so imma stop LMAO. life is just busy but what’s new. anyway, to be frank i adore this chapter. it's a wild ride. i hope you all enjoy. mwah.

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung hears someone call out to him, but he isn’t sure from where. Their voice appears close, yet far off all at once. As if they are speaking from beside him, and at the same time miles away.

His senses feel muddled. Eye-sight a bit faded, it’s as if he’s looking through a window in the winter season. Fogged and clammy with precipitation, almost translucent. His hearing is muffled, his footsteps creating a dull-echo through him, as if they’re coming from within his mind rather than heard through his ears.

Wooyoung ignores this, instead choosing to follow the voice, although really, he’s walking aimlessly more than he is following. He can’t tell where the voice is coming from, and the darkness that surrounds him is disorientating. When he looks down, he can see his own eyes staring back at him, the ground polished and reflective. However, when he looks forward it all meshes into a thick blackness, like a mirror facing the night sky.

“Wooyoung!”

He hears the voice again, and it sounds like it’s coming from behind him, but when he turns there is nobody there. Just more of the same darkness.

Wooyoung scowls. Something is wrong, although he can’t place what. An inkling of worry rests on his shoulders nagging at him to listen, but everytime he tries to grasp it, it slips between his fingers. Sliding like water over rock.

His frown deepens. Yes, something is very wrong. He should know what it is, and yet he doesn’t.

Wooyoung turns back around, walking back in the same direction from which he came, this time with more fervour, his cluelessness leaving him agitated.

However, as he turns it is not only blackness ahead of him, but a boy.

He faces away from Wooyoung so that the elemental cannot see his face, although based on his narrow stature and height, he’s no older than his early teens. Wooyoung, struck by a sense of familiarity, heads towards him.

Upon reaching him, Wooyoung reaches out to grab the boy's shoulder, turning him around to face him. However, just as the boy’s face is almost visible, he vanishes. Wooyoung blinks. Darkness sits before him, empty, his hand outstretched into the blackness.

“Wooyoung.”

He whirls around, finding himself face to face with the boy.

Wooyoung gasps.

The boy’s light eyes meet his, a rich grey colour that has always reminded him of a coming storm. His black hair has grown longer, shaggy as it curls around the boy’s ears. Although Wooyoung has grown quite a bit since he last saw him, the boy is still taller, even if only by an inch or so.

“Yeonjun,” he whispers, and then his arms are wrapped around him, pulling the boy close. Wooyoung presses one of his hands along Yeonjun's back, feeling his skin and the muscles along his shoulders, trying to make sure that he’s real as he remembers each of his skin’s crevices. Ensuring that he is not a trick of the mind, an illusion within the warped darkness.

But he is real. Completely solid, his skin as warm and soft as so many years ago. Wooyoung places a hand onto the back of his head, cradling it as he pulls Yeonjun close.

Yeonjun does not move to hug him back. He stands still, stiff. Arms planted at his sides.

“You’re dead,” Wooyoung whispers, because he doesn’t understand how this is possible. He tucks his chin over the boy’s shoulder, overwhelmed by the familiarity of it, even after all these years. There’s a rightness to it, like his shoulder was meant for Wooyoung’s chin to rest there.

Yeonjun doesn’t reply right away, and Wooyoung finally pulls away from him. Yeonjun’s deep grey eyes meet his, although there is a certain absence to them. Not of life, but compassion. His lips are pulled into a thin line, his jaw clenched tight.

It’s not until now Wooyoung realizes that Yeonjun is not happy to see him.

“You don’t have to remind me that I’m dead, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun says, and his voice is not how Wooyoung remembers it. Not in its actual sound, but in its tone. Wooyoung remembers Yeonjun’s voice within night’s spent up in the watchtower, huddled close together. He remembers it in whispers around the lunch table, jovial and bright amidst the darkness.

He does not remember Yeonjun’s voice being so cold, nor so pointed. So hateful.

“It’s not the kind of thing I would forget,” Yeonjun spits, releasing himself from Wooyoung’s grip. Wooyoung flinches, caught off guard by this ferocity of his words.

“I didn’t mean-” Wooyoung starts, reaching out to place a comforting hand atop the boy’s shoulder. Yeonjun slaps it away. Hard.

“Don’t touch me,” Yeonjun scowls. He takes a step forward, and Wooyoung finds himself stepping back. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me!”

��I-I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, and his voice is small as he takes another step back, pulling his hand away completely.

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry,” Yeonjun says, and then Wooyoung is flying backwards. Blown by a sharp gust of wind, he hits his back against the ground. It sends a sharp spark of pain along his spine, and he winces as he continues to roll, using his elbows to protect his face as he tumbles backwards.

When he finally comes to a stop, he looks up, watching as Yeonjun storms towards him. “You think that you being sorry is going to change anything? That it’s going to fix what you did?”

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, because it’s true. He has hated himself for what he did to Yeonjun. Dragging him into his plan to escape, the plan that ultimately got the boy killed. However, even with all of his guilt, regret, and self-hatred, he never once thought that he’d have to face Yeonjun again. That he would have to own up to his failure. His unforgivable mistake.

He deserves this.

“You’re right, I am dead,” Yeonjun says, no longer shouting, but the ice within his voice is just as powerful. “I’m dead and it’s because of you.”

A ball of fire ignites in Yeonjun’s hand that the younger boy pulls it back, before letting it fly towards Wooyoung. The fire hurtles towards him, its orange and yellow flames twisting and turning, growing in size with each passing second.

Wooyoung would never hurt Yeonjun. Not intentionally, not with his own hand or flame. So instead of firing back with his own, Wooyoung redirects the flame away from him, sending it sideways.

Except that he doesn’t, because the redirection doesn’t work.

Yeonjun’s aim lands true as the flames engulf him.

Wooyoung thinks that he is screaming, but he can’t tell, his ears having gone deaf amongst the pain that radiates throughout his entire body. The burning sensation starts at his skin, thousands of little needles stabbing him everywhere from his face down to his feet. He can’t think beyond the burning, the heat intolerable as it consumes him. He begins to roll around on the ground, wailing in agony as he desperately tries to put the fire out.

When the flames subside, Wooyoung can’t rise to his feet. He drags his hand along the ground, weak and shaking as he pulls it to his side, and he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored floor beneath him.

His skin bubbles and blisters, it’s once deep bronze having shifted to an angry and repulsive bright red. His hand twitches, shaking as he attempts to move it. He lets out a low whine of pain, tears glistening in his eyes.

He hears Yeonjun’s footsteps approach him. When the boy crouches down in front of Wooyoung, his eyes are full of malice. He does not smile, even as Wooyoung looks up at him through bleary eyes, weak and pathetic.

Yeonjun’s hand fills with fire, and instead of throwing it at him, he simply places it onto Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung watches in horror as his skin catches light, the needles returning as sharp pain cascades over his flesh. He lets out a broken cry, trying to move his other hand to put it out, but he’s too weak. His other hand merely shakes, awkwardly patting at the fire in a way that does nothing to put it out, but rather makes his other hand hurt even more.

“Use your gift, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun chides, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Or maybe you really are as useless as he claims.”

“He” meaning Warden. The only man Wooyoung has ever been genuinely afraid of. The only man who convinced Wooyoung that he was nothing. Has always been nothing.

Is nothing, even now.

Yeonjun leans in closer, and when he speaks, his voice is a low whisper. “You deserve all that’s coming to you, Wooyoung. Remember that.”

The fire spreads up his arm and onto his shoulder, and Wooyoung closes his eyes, losing himself in the pain. It continues through him, the fire eating away at his flesh and burning its way into his mind. He can smell the smoke around him, and it's reminiscent of his skin. Rotten and vile, he breathes it again, mouth agape as he wails in agony.

The fire consumes him until there is nothing left. His body gone, mind lost to the flames.

“Woo, get off of the floor,” a voice says from above him.

Wooyoung blinks. His cheek is cool against the ground beneath him, as is the rest of his body that is sprawled out above it. He glances forward at his hand that sits out in front of him.

It looks normal, the burns completely vanished.

He narrows his eyes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror below him. All he sees is himself staring back, disbelieving. Wooyoung’s skin has returned to its normal, deep bronze rather than bright red, the blisters having disappeared entirely. His reflection blinks back at him. It’s as if nothing happened.

“Did you hit your head or something?” The voice says again, and Wooyoung glances up. Seonghwa stands above him, looking down with a puzzled look on his face.

Wooyoung frowns, a burst of both excitement and shame igniting within him, although he doesn’t know where it comes from. Did something happen between him and Seonghwa lately? He can’t seem to remember.

“No, sorry,” Wooyoung replies, and Seonghwa extends a hand out. Wooyoung takes it, letting the blonde lift him back up to his feet.

Wooyoung glances down at himself, at his once burnt clothing now perfectly in-tact. His frown deepens. “Do you know-” He begins, but whatever he was going to say dies on his lips, as when he glances up Seonghwa’s eyes are already staring into his own.

Seonghwa is close, a little too close. His hand continues to hold Wooyoung’s, resting against Seonghwa’s own chest. His face is closer than Wooyoung thinks it’s ever been, mere inches apart, and Wooyoung can feel the heat that rises to his cheeks.

“I… I, um,” Wooyoung says stupidly.

“Hm?” Seonghwa hums, and a small smile grazes his lips. It’s coy, almost knowing, and if Wooyoung could feel the heat in his cheeks before then they’re practically burning now. “Were you saying something?”

Wooyoung swallows hard, and when he speaks again his voice is a whisper. “No.”

Seonghwa’s smile grows a little wider. “Good.”

Then Seonghwa kisses him.

It’s familiar in a way he can’t understand, almost as if he’s been here before, but also nowhere close. Seonghwa’s lips are soft, tender as they meet Wooyoung’s own. The empath’s hand is gentle as it reaches up to rest on the back of Wooyoung’s neck, whose mind melts.

Seonghwa clearly feels the elemental stiffen in surprise, smiling against Wooyoung’s lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle that is oh-so-familiar, and Wooyoung lets the sound flow through his ears and fill the rest of him. His mind, his heart, his body. He lets himself become wrapped in the comfortability that is one of his closest friends, his mind’s long-harboured desire.

Seonghwa’s hand drifts from the back of the elemental’s neck to the front, fingers dancing along his Adam’s apple, which bobs as Wooyoung swallows in anticipation.

Then Seonghwa begins to squeeze.

His grip is not gentle, nor is it suggestive. Instead it is tight, increasingly uncomfortable, and Wooyoung tries to pull his lips away. “Hwa,” he murmurs, although it’s difficult to get out through the way Seonghwa’s hand squeezes around his airway. “Hwa, you’re hurting me.”

“Am I?” Seonghwa speaks against his lips, his tone shifting from fond to something that resembles seductive, but not quite. Mischievous, or even dangerous. “Awe.”

Seonghwa's grip shifts from uncomfortable to painful as he deepens the kiss, nails digging into Wooyoung’s skin as he presses harder on his airway. Wooyoung tried to pull away, to protest, but Seonghwa forcefully keeps his lips on Wooyoung’s own.

Wooyoung places his hands on Seonghwa’s wrist, trying to pull his grip away. However, it’s as if Seonghwa has gained impenetrable strength, as his arm will not budge no matter how hard Wooyoung tries. Seonghwa finally pulls his lips away, looking down at Wooyoung, eyes full of a mocking pity.

“What’s wrong, Woo? Isn’t this what you’ve been imagining?” Seonghwa asks, and while Wooyoung opens his mouth to deny him, his squeezed airway prevents him from speaking. Seonghwa grins, squeezing tighter as he moves his face closer, his breath hot on Wooyoung’s skin. “Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming about in that sick head of yours?”

Wooyoung tries to cry out but all that comes out is a choked, pathetic sound that makes Seonghwa snicker. Blackness creeping into the corners of his vision, Wooyoung’s head begins to become foggy, everything fuzzy but the pain and image of Seonghwa before him.

He can feel his eyelids drooping, his effort to pull Seonghwa’s hand away diminishing with each passing second. Seonghwa notices it too, as he coos in disapproval.

“You really thought I could love you, didn’t you?” Seonghwa says softly, grip tightening to keep Wooyoung awake. Tears begin to fill the elemental’s eyes as his chest aches, desperate for air. For release, one way or another. “That if anyone were able to love something as fucked up as you, maybe it would be me.”

Seonghwa leans in, and Wooyoung feels his eyes roll into the back of his head, nothingness beginning to replace the space his thoughts once resided.

“I could never love you, Woo. Nobody could. It’s time that you stop pretending otherwise.”

Wooyoung awakens to his cheek pressed against the cold mirrored floor. Again.

Taking a deep, gasping breath, he feels his lungs fill with air. Hand drifting to his neck, he searches for the pain of bruising, only to find that there is nothing there. His neck feels fine, his breathing having returned to normal, and he curses beneath his breath.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” He thinks, staring up at the never-ending darkness above him. He searches his mind for the memory of where he is, how he got to this strange place, but can’t seem to find anything. The answer sits on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot speak it, the words just out of his reach.

Anxiety pulses within his head, hands shaky as he pulls them down to his side. He feels as if he’s going crazy. Maybe he is. Maybe he already has.

Wooyoung rolls over, prepared to rise to his feet, only to be stopped by the sight of a man lying next to him. He faces away from Wooyoung, but from the outline of the muscles of his back that poke through his shirt and the strap of the eye-patch that wraps around the back of his head, Wooyoung knows that it’s San.

Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, comforted by the fact that San is with him. San always knows what’s going on, what to do when nothing seems to make sense. San will be able to put together what Wooyoung cannot.

He extends out a hand, letting it fall onto San’s shoulder, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. San’s skin is cool to his touch, smooth, and Wooyoung smiles at the comfortable familiarity of it.

“San,” he says, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. When San does not reply, Wooyoung shakes him a little harder. “San.”

When San still does not move, Wooyoung assumes that he is sleeping. It’s not surprising, as even for a man so keen and alert at all waking hours, he sleeps like the dead. Sitting up on his elbow, Wooyoung tugs on San’s shoulder, rolling him over.

Except that when Wooyoung’s gaze meets man’s face, San’s eye is not closed in peaceful slumber. It is wide-open, glazed, and worst of all, vacant.

Wooyoung knows that he is dead.

Time appears to stop for a moment, although it feels more like an eternity. Wooyoung stares down into San’s blank stare, the coolness of his skin suddenly making far too much sense.

San is dead.

“No,” Wooyoung murmurs, hand drifting from San’s shoulder to his chest, feeling for a heart-beat and finding nothing. Wooyoung pulls himself up onto his knees, leaning down to press his ear to San’s parted lips, listening for a breath. There is none to be found.

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, turning his head to press a kiss to the swordsman’s lips, one that goes unreciprocated. “No, no, no,” he protests, hands shaking as he grabs San’s jaw, pulling his mouth to his own.

San’s lips are cold, unmoving, and when Wooyoung pulls away from him his eyes are stained with tears. His throat swells, chest aching, and he lets out an open sob. It echoes throughout the empty darkness around them, over and over again, like a lament of agony.

“This is your fault.”

Wooyoung’s gaze shoots up. In front of him sits a young girl, no older than thirteen, her long black hair tangled and pale face stained with tears.

“Winter,” Wooyoung whispers.

“You couldn’t just let him leave,” she says, voice shaking as her hands clutch onto San’s tunic. They tremble around the light fabric, in desperation, in anger, in devastation. “He knew what you would do to him, but you couldn’t let him go, could you?”

“I…” Wooyoung starts, tongue feeling too big for his mouth, mind fuzzy. “I did this?”

He looks down at his hands. They’re coated in blood, as is San’s shirt. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before.

“He loved you,” Winter says, eyes finally looking up to meet Wooyoung’s. The redness of her crying face and the gloss of her tears bring out the blue in them. “We both did. And this is what we get for it?”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, his voice barely above a whisper. Winter says nothing, her sobs merely grow louder, and Wooyoung looks down at San. The man he ruined. The man he destroyed. “I’m so sorry.”

When San makes no reply, as he no longer can, Wooyoung’s tears transform into loud, broken sobs. His own hand grabs onto San’s bloodied tunic, needing to hold a part of him but not daring to let himself touch the man’s skin. Tarnish him any more than he already has.

“I hate you,” Winter whispers, and it takes Wooyoung a minute to realize that although he’s heard her say those words before, it isn’t Winter speaking.

Wooyoung looks up to meet your gaze.

Your jaw is tightly clenched, your lip quivering. Although, what affects him the most is your eyes and the deep emotion they hold. A fiery blaze of distaste, of fury, wrath, and pure and unadulterated hatred.

“I hate you,” you say again, face contorting inward on itself as you look at him. “For everything you’ve done to me. For everything you’ve done to them. For everything you are.”

“I know,” he answers, and when he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper, as he lets out an admission. “I do too.”

He doesn’t notice the knife in your hand until it is buried in his chest.

Wooyoung stares down at the knife protruding out from him, your hand wrapped around its delicately engraved handle. It’s the one they gave to you, the one he took from you that first night.

He doesn’t fight it, doesn’t attempt to pull it out or shove you away. He deserves it.

Blood pools around the wound in his chest, leaking down. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead coughs, blood splattering from his mouth onto your face. You don’t seem to care.

You lean forward over San’s body, pressing your lips against his ear. However, when you speak, your voice is not your own. It’s deeper, more masculine. Familiar, although from where Wooyoung cannot place.

“Tell me where she is, Wooyoung. Tell me where she is and I’ll make it stop.”

“The refuge,” the answer comes immediately to his mind, dancing on his tongue, although he doesn’t know where it comes from or what it means. “She’s with the refugees. Sharing a tent with a young red-haired girl. It’s just three turns from the entrance.”

But he doesn’t say these words, even as the pain within his chest deepens, even as he wants everything to disappear. Even as he craves for the darkness to consume him, to rid him of this terrible mess. The horrors of everything he’s done.

He doesn’t say these words because something in his mind screams that he can’t, something deep within him that pounds at the walls of his subconscious, that something is deeply, horrifically wrong.

“Fine,” you say in that same voice that is not your own, leaning back from his ear to face him, the anger in your eyes having faded to a cold disinterest. “Have it your way.”

You twist the knife deeper and Wooyoung dies, this time in even more agony than the last.

This sword is nicer than San’s old one.

His old sword had been gifted to him from Gloria's blacksmith when he was thirteen. A kind old-man who knew the trouble that had entangled San, and wished to give the young boy a chance in a life where his fortune had run dry.

The sword was nothing special, hilt not quite heavy enough and wrapped in a cheap leather that had become worn over the years. It was not as flexible as to be expected of a good sword, and even with the trips he’d taken to sharpen the blade, the metal was becoming dull and had lost much of its durability. San was also thirteen upon receiving it, so of course, the blade was not long. Even for a short-sword, it had become too small with San’s growing height.

This sword doesn’t have those problems, with its thick hilt coated in fine leather. It clearly holds a stronger durability than the last, almost nimble with its flexibility. It’s even a little longer, allowing him to reach an opponent from a few inches further back, granting him better protection.

The new sword is objectively better than his last in just about every way possible.

San hates it.

He hates the way the new sword glides through the air effortlessly, how the sharpness of the blade cuts deep against the wooden pole he strikes with a terrifying ease. He hates how it fits his hand so well, how the length suits him perfectly. It was made for him, fashioned for his grip..

There is no life to this sword. Not yet. It wasn’t given to him in a time of desperate need like his last, something to hold onto when everything else was falling apart. He has this sword because he simply needed a new one.

San misses his old sword. It’s heavy hilt and the roughness of the cheap leather against his palm. He misses how it wasn’t long enough, how he’d have to dance closer to danger within every battle. He misses the wrongness of it, and how right that wrongness felt. He misses the imperfection. The faults. The years spent getting used to those faults, of learning to navigate them.

San wants his sword back.

San also knows that he isn’t thinking about weapons anymore.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, San takes a breath before attacking the pole before him once more. In a flurry of motion, he hacks at the pole’s cheap wood, landing blow after blow. There is no grace, no tactical finesse, just violence. The excuse of training having faded a long time ago, San simply seeks to cause damage.

Then he growls, a low noise of annoyance in the back of his throat, before throwing the sword to the ground. It clatters against a couple rocks, before settling itself in the grass, almost invisible within the night's shadow. Good, he doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

San leans against the pole, feeling the many indents he’s created against the bare skin of his back. His tunic sits discarded on the ground next to him, having been soaked through with sweat. He’s been at this for hours.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks from over his shoulder. San turns to see Seonghwa standing by their tent, a sad expression on his face. He asks more out of courtesy than anything else. San knows that the answer is obvious.

“No,” San says softly, and the honesty surprises him, but after a moment it doesn’t. San is tired of hiding how he feels about things. Of pretending things are fine when they so obviously aren’t. If he still had the energy for it after the last couple weeks — although more like years, really — then it left alongside Woo.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seonghwa asks.

“Not really,” San answers honestly. He’s been thinking about it for hours, the last thing he wants is to continue doing so.

“Alright, we don’t have to, ” Seonghwa says gently. San peers back over at him. Seonghwa’s arms sit folded over his chest, eyes big and full of concern. His hair is tousled, patches of blonde sticking out in opposite directions, as if he were trying to sleep but couldn’t. He likely has been. San wonders how late it is, how long he’s been out here for.

“Do you want to just come inside then?” Seonghwa offers instead, tilting his head towards the tent entrance. San considers this for a moment before deciding he would rather be anywhere other than beside this pole, and nods in affirmation.

Following Seonghwa inside the tent, San takes note of Seonghwa’s crumpled sheets, evidence of San’s assumption that the man has spent the last few hours tossing and turning rather than in rest.

“Do you want some tea?” Seonghwa asks.

“I’m alright.”

“Good. Whiskey then?”

San can’t help the chuckle he lets out at that. “Please.”

Seonghwa reaches into the basket Yeji had gifted them, filled to the brim with different delectables. San knew that it was nice of her to do, a kind gesture, but the cynical part of him saw the silliness of it. Here, your friend just got kidnapped for ransom, but maybe these scones will make you feel better about it.

However, maybe she also saw the futility of it, having added a rather hefty bottle of whiskey to the mix of sweets.

Seonghwa pours the whiskey into two ceramic cups before handing one over to San, who sits down on his own bed of blankets across from Seonghwa’s own. Woo’s remains between them, untouched.

Seonghwa extends his cup forward to meet San’s own in a form of cheers, although to what exactly San doesn’t think Seonghwa knows the answer either. They both take a sip, and the liquid burns slightly as it trickles down San’s throat. He makes sure to drink a bit more than he normally would.

Swallowing his own whiskey before San does, Seonghwa looks down at Woo’s bed between them, gaze contemplative.

“Have you ever told me how you and Woo met?” Seonghwa asks.

San quirks a brow at this, a bit amused but at the same time confused. “Many times, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods at this, cheeks dusted with a faint shade of pink, as if he’s well aware of this fact and embarrassed to have been caught.

However, when the empath says nothing, San sighs. He knows that Seonghwa simply wants to talk about Woo, even if not about the situation at hand. The dire, horrible situation that plagues both of their minds with worry. The situation that San cannot bare to talk about, so lest he tear up this tent with his sword before heading up the mountain to kill the entire Dark Army himself

But how they met… he supposes he can talk about that. If it will bring Seonghwa some peace of mind, of course.

“We were both fourteen,” San begins, watching as an appreciative smile spreads over Seonghwa’s lips. “I’d been working a job for Jay, spying on an investor he suspected of embezzling The Cradle’s Funds. But I was still new to working for him, and hadn’t quite found my knack for stealth yet.”

Seonghwa closes his eyes as San speaks, as if what he’s saying is some sort of lullaby, a piece of comfort.

“He caught me hiding in the shrub garden of his courtyard and dragged me out by my hair onto the city street. He started screaming at me, before pulling out a knife from his back pocket," San says, and he can still remember that moment as clear as day. The terror that consumed him, that kept him frozen in place as the man advanced towards him.

San does not tell Seonghwa this, but what he remembers most is how in that moment he thought about how nobody would care if the man killed him. His father had left him, his mother and sister were both dead, and his expendability in Jay’s eyes was made blatantly clear by the fact that he sent San to deal with this man in the first place.

If the man killed San right then and there, nobody would have batted an eye. He would just become another one of the many nameless, faceless victims of Gloria’s streets.

“The man came towards me, and I remember closing my eye as he lifted the blade in the air. I didn’t want to see it enter me, I knew I couldn’t handle that.”

“But then Woo showed up,” Seonghwa says softly.

“Yeah,” San breathes, unable to help the smile that curves across his lips. “But then Woo showed up.”

San takes a deep breath, before letting his own eye close, reliving it. “Across the darkness I saw a bright flash of light, and could feel a sudden rush of heat across my face. I opened my eye in a panic. I thought that maybe I’d died, that he stabbed and killed me instantaneously, that the light had meant I’d ascended or that the heat was the fires of Hell.”

“But when I opened my eyes I saw the man standing before me, except that now his arm that was holding the knife was completely engulfed in flame. The look on his face when he saw it was priceless, completely in shock as he ran back into his house screaming for help, the poor boy in front of him that he was about to murder completely forgotten.”

“Then Woo walked up to me, standing up with his arms crossed. The light of the sun shone out behind him, and I remember at the time thinking he must have been the god of fire himself. Or maybe an angel that came to save me. It’s ridiculous knowing him now, but at the time I really believed it.”

“What was the first thing Woo said to you again?” Seonghwa asks, and San chuckles.

“He asked me ‘Were you really just going to sit there and let him kill you?’ I shakily replied yes, and then he said ‘That’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?’”

Seonghwa laughs at this, shaking his head to himself. San gets it. Even now, so many years later, it’s a very Woo sort of thing to say.

“I thought about it, and then agreed that yeah, it was pretty pathetic. He laughed, and then somehow I found myself laughing too. He helped me up, and then that was it.”

“That was it?” Seonghwa asks, inquiring what he means by that.

“That was it. He never left my side after that. I joined him in his camp outside of the town. He helped me train with my sword even if his own knowledge on the subject was next to none. He never wanted to see me so helpless again. He joined me on countless missions that Jay sent me on, even the nasty ones, the ones that still keep me up some nights.”

San takes in a deep breath. “He was just… there. When I had no-one, he was there. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

San looks down at Woo’s sleeping mat between them. Pristine. Untouched. A testament to his absence.

Things between him and Woo have been horrible lately. It’s been years of build up, of the little issues growing larger, of San’s discontentment boiling beneath the surface. He knows that things with Woo will never change. He knows the elemental will never give San all of himself.

But it’s in these little moments, when he thinks about their past and everything that has happened between them, that he wants nothing more than to have Woo with him. In any form. In a blistering argument, in the cold quiet following, in his bed even when he knows the elemental will be gone come morning.

He simply needs Woo there. Even when it’s wrong, even when he knows it’s an awful, gut-wrenching codependence at times. He needs him.

And with Woo gone, taken from him, it’s now that he knows this more than ever.

But then he remembers the jealous spats over the last few weeks. The many morning’s waking up alone. The way that Woo jumped after him over that cliff…

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead,” San says, taking a sip of his drink as Seonghwa takes a deep breath.

“Woo kissed me.”

San chokes on his whiskey.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says as San sputters and uses a fist to pound at his chest, forcing himself to cough. “I should have waited until you swallowed first, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” San says through coughs, and while he tries to keep the blatant shock out of his tone, he fails miserably. “Woo kissed you?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa answers, voice breathy and small.

“When?” San asks, bewildered.

“Before they captured him.”

“Before they captured him,” San repeats, more to himself than Seonghwa. He runs the idea of it through his head, although it doesn’t make much more sense to him.

Woo kissed Seonghwa. He actually did it. Recently. Just the night before.

“Are you mad?” Seonghwa asks.

“No,” San says absently, before really registering the question. He looks over at Seonghwa, who looks at him, knees drawn up to his chest. His fingers tap against the cup in his hands as he chews on the corner of his cheek, both nervous habits of his.

San realizes that Seonghwa is genuinely scared that he’ll be upset with him, and even amidst the shock, San’s heart softens.

“No. I’m not mad, Hwa,” he says gently, running a hand through his hair to pull it out of his face as he takes another small sip of his drink. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”

San knew Woo had feelings for Seonghwa, he has for years. He could tell by the way Woo looked at the empath in absent moments, when he thought nobody was looking. That undeniable fondness in his gaze that told San everything he needed to know. He noticed as Woo stiffened at Seonghwa’s touch, the way his breath would catch in his throat, just as San’s own did.

Yes, San knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa. San just didn’t know that Woo knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa.

“I know, it was a lot for me to take in too,” Seonghwa says, before letting out a small laugh that doesn’t hold much humour. “Still is.”

“How did it happen?” San asks.

“We were arguing…about her, amongst other things,” Seonghwa says with a shrug. “And it quickly escalated to fighting. I asked— well, I yelled at him asking why he cared so much about what I do, and then he grabbed me and kissed me.”

It makes sense. If there is any scenario San could imagine Woo confronting his feelings, it’s in a fit of rage.

“After he kissed you, then what did he do?” San asks.

Seonghwa sighs, and when he speaks his tone is bashful, cheeks flushed as if he’s embarrassed to say it aloud. “He ran away.”

“For fuck’s sake, Woo,” San thinks, giving him a mental slap that he hopes the elemental can feel from miles away.

But San isn’t going to complain about Woo right now, because that’s not why Seonghwa brought this up, it’s not what the empath really needs. He just needs someone to listen.

“Do you know how you feel about it?” San asks, tone gentle.

“No,” Seonghwa says quietly. San catches a glimpse of annoyance in his eyes, as Seonghwa’s expression shifts from bashful to frustrated, lips drawing themselves into a tight line.

“No, I don’t. How am I supposed to know how I felt about it? If I liked it?” Seonghwa says, standing up from his sleeping mat and beginning to pace around the tent. However, given its small size he doesn’t have much room to actually pace, instead walking a mere few steps forward and back.

“There was no tenderness to it. It was nothing like a real kiss should be. He just grabbed my face and shoved it into his and then said ‘Sorry Seonghwa, you’re going to have to figure that one out on your own, I'm off to get kidnapped!’” Seonghwa says the last part in a high pitched sing-song sort of way, one that doesn’t really sound like Woo, but at the same time a lot like him in spirit.

Seonghwa sighs, taking a sip of his drink before pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he has a headache. When he speaks again, his voice becomes quiet. “That's not fair. I know it’s not fair. But neither is what he did.”

San looks up at the empath, contemplative. “Any ideas as to what it means to you yet?”

“No,” Seonghwa answers immediately, before appearing to think better of it. “That's a lie. So many. Too many. I don't know, it’s just…”

He trails off, giving San a nervous glance that tells the swordsman that Seonghwa is worried of making him uncomfortable. San gives him a gentle smile, a signal to keep going despite it.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath. “It’s always been you and him. Always, from the moment I met you both. There was never another option, so I never considered another option. It would have been unfair. To you, to him, to myself… So I don't know. I honestly don’t know if I think of him that way. I don’t know if I think of guys that way. But now he’s gone and that’s like, the least of our problems to be worried about right now, but I just…”

“I know. I get it,” San says, because he does. He’s been there. San hadn’t loved a man until he met Woo, and falling for the elemental certainly wasn’t easy. Figuring out Woo had always been like deciphering a puzzle, or even navigating a ship out on a foggy day at sea. Disorientating, frustrating, and requiring a strong will and patient temper.

Seonghwa sighs. “I don't know what to do.”

San see’s Seonghwa standing there, dejected and confused and what he’d dare to call a little heartsick, and the words come out of his mouth before he even registers that he’s thought of them.

“You could kiss me.”

Seonghwa’s gaze shoots back at him, and when he speaks his tone is hesitant, maybe even a little pointed as his lips hover above the rim of his glass. “That's not funny.”

San looks up at him, expecting to feel caught, or to begin back-tracking. Play it off as a joke and cover up his feelings as he’s so often done in the past, let them exist to him and nobody else.

Instead he says: “I wasn't joking.”

And he isn’t.

He isn’t because San realizes that Seonghwa is not repulsed by the idea of Woo kissing him, or of even Woo loving him. He’s upset that Woo didn’t do it more cautiously, that he didn’t let Seonghwa give any input on his own thoughts or feelings. He’s upset that Woo did all of this in a moment of anger and aggression, without asking, and without apparent thought or care.

Seonghwa is not upset that Woo confessed to loving him, he’s upset that he didn’t do so tenderly.

“San,” Seonghwa says, and his tone is difficult to read. He says it like a warning, telling San to think about what he’s saying, what he’s really offering here. But San is thinking about, a small part of him always has been.

“I’m serious, Hwa. Think about it,” San starts, and he tries to keep his demeanour nonchalant, even as his heart begins to rapidly pick up pace in his chest. “You said you aren’t sure if you’re into guys. Well, I’m a guy. I’m not horrible to look at. You’re comfortable around me. It might help you sort some things out.”

“But…” Seonghwa trails off, and his complexion has gone a bit pale, clearly taken aback by the proposition. “But it’s you. It’s us.”

“Look, if you don’t feel anything or don’t like it I’m not going to take it personally,” San says, and maybe that’s not completely true, but what he says next is. “I’m not going to let it ruin our friendship. I promise.”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, large brown eyes scanning the swordsman’s face, as if searching for something. Eventually he speaks, and his voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“Really?” San asks despite himself, unable to contain his surprise.

“Yeah, whatever, okay,” Seonghwa says, his voice breathy, small, and all-around nervous. He walks over to sit down in front of San, this time on Woo’s unused sleeping mat rather than his own. Seonghwa does so with such a quickness that San is pretty sure the empath is trying to commit to this before he can talk himself out of it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seonghwa asks, gaze meeting San’s own. When he speaks his tone is embarrassed, maybe even a little self-conscious. “I mean, it’s me.”

Seonghwa says “me” as if that’s something that would deter him. As if there’s no possible way that San would want to kiss him, of all people. As if that were something San should be repulsed by.

San decides that with this kiss, he’ll prove to Seonghwa just how wrong he is about that.

Reaching forward to take hold of the empath’s jaw, San’s grip is gentle as his fingers dust along Seonghwa’s cheek. Seonghwa’s skin is warm, a beautiful kind of soft, and San takes a moment to run his thumb along Seonghwa’s cheekbone, his own heart fluttering at the way the empath’s skin floods with a light shade of pink.

Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut, lips parted open slightly, waiting for San to accept them. San waits for a moment, taking in the sight before him, registering that this is actually happening. That Seonghwa - the man he’s only let himself love in seclusion, in weakness, in devastating secret - waits for San’s lips to meet his own.

Closing his good eye, San takes Seonghwa’s face in his hand, fingers grazing the conjunction between his neck and jaw. The empath’s skin is warm and San wonders if he’s blushing.

Seonghwa’s lips are soft. Softer than San imagined them to be, admittedly watching the empath’s mouth at times rather than his eyes. Embarrassing. Foolish. Pitiful.

But perhaps not anymore. Not right now. Right now is anything but such cruel negativity.

San makes sure that the kiss is good. That it holds a sense of passion, by no means chaste or hesitant, but also is not aggressive or to the point of formidability. He grips Seonghwa’s jaw a little tighter, pulling him in deeper.

More than anything, San makes sure that the kiss is tender.

Seonghwa sucks in a tight breath, and for a moment San fears that he’s uncomfortable, repulsed by it. That this was a mistake. That the rejection he’s been terrified of for so long is just a moment away. Maybe Seonghwa won’t even be able to look at him after, he’ll be too disgusted.

But then Seonghwa’s hand finds itself on San’s arm. It rests there, Seonghwa’s fingers gently gripping San’s tunic. In that moment, the swordsman can almost feel as the fear and anxiety leaves his mind, draining from his body like a fruit squeezed of its juice.

Not rejection. Maybe not acceptance, maybe not a confession or admission on Seonghwa’s behalf. But not rejection.

And with no rejection to be found, San knows what he must do.

He pulls away from Seonghwa’s lips, albeit not far, as he rests his forehead against the empath’s own. He can’t look Seonghwa in the eye for this, he knows it will make him too much of a coward to get the words out.

“I need to tell you something now,” San says.

Seonghwa’s voice is shaky as he speaks, quiet as his breath grazes San’s lips. “Okay.”

San holds his breath, as if he is about to dive underwater.

“I love you.”

There is a pause, and while San knows that realistically it is no more than a few seconds, it feels far more like an eternity as they pass by. He imagines all of the things Seonghwa could say. All the many variations of rejection or denial he could utter, ranging from a simple “no” to an entire memoir on why Seonghwa would never feel the same.

Seonghwa says none of these things. Instead he asks: “As in how?”

It takes San a moment to register what Seonghwa is asking. “As in I’m in love with you,” San clarifies.

“But…” Seonghwa starts, and in the moment’s pause he finally draws away from San’s face. When he looks at San, his face gives nothing away, a surprise given the empath’s often animated nature. Perhaps it is because he also does not know how he feels, how to respond to such a confession. Seonghwa does not smile, nor does he frown. His eyes do not light up with joy, nor do they swim with despair.

In fact, the only emotion San can read is the wariness within Seonghwa’s gaze. A deep sense of caution. “What about Woo?” Seonghwa asks.

“I also love Woo.” San says, because it is true. Even after everything. Even after what happened at the beach the other night. Even with the line dug in the sand between them, a line that San himself has drawn, he knows that he will always love Woo. Always.

Seonghwa frowns, eyebrows furrowing together into a puzzled look, as if the possibility of loving two people in such a way had never occurred to him before. As if the possibility of San loving two people in such a way were impossible.

“I love him differently,” San admits, before thinking about it for a moment. “But at the same time, maybe not so differently either.”

“I don’t get it,” Seonghwa says, and for a moment San believes that he is talking about how San could love them both, but then Seonghwa clarifies: “How can you love me? For the last year you’ve kept me at such a distance. You’ve barely been able to touch me, let alone anything more than that.”

The words settle like a stone in San’s gut, and he thinks of their conversation at the fire after their run-in at The Desert Lotus. How Seonghwa had believed that he made San uncomfortable.

It was true. Touching Seonghwa did make San uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with how with each touch filled him with the desire to touch him more.

San’s voice is quiet as he speaks. “And why do you think that is, Hwa?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa answers, an immediate response, dejected as his gaze drifts away from San to look downwards. To Woo’s bed beneath them.

A flash of realization dawns on Seonghwa’s features, lighting up within the empath’s eyes.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” San says, unable to hide the amused smile that grazes his lips. “Oh.”

Seonghwa seems to consider this for a moment, before looking back up at San. “You know I love you too, right?

San’s eyebrows shoot up at this, and Seonghwa rushes to clarify. “Maybe not in the same way. Or maybe I do. I honestly don’t know. This is all new. I need some time to think about it.”

San nods. That’s fair. He hadn’t expected Seonghwa to immediately reciprocate his feelings. Although, maybe a little part of him deep down had foolishly hoped that he would.

Seonghwa seems to take note of the slight solemnity to San’s smile, and places his hand over the swordsman’s own. “But either way, I love you. And I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“You won’t” San replies, and it is instant. It is instinct. It is the truth. “Take all of the time you need.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, giving San’s hand a soft squeeze.

A moment of silence passes between them, and despite its slight awkwardness, San finds it the least tense he’s felt around Seonghwa in a very long time. It’s as if a weight has been taken off of his shoulders, finally free of the deep sense of guilt in the quiet moment’s between them. When San’s mind would wander, and he’d hate himself for thinking such things about his closest friend, and then hate himself even more for being too much of a coward to tell his closest friend what he was thinking.

But now Seonghwa knows. He knows. And no matter the outcome, no matter what he feels towards San in return, San no longer has to hide or wallow in his own guilt.

It is freeing.

Seonghwa takes a sip of his drink. “That was a good kiss though,” he mumbles over the rim of his glass, and San laughs. A real laugh, bubbling up from his chest. It’s been too long since he laughed like that.

Then, as if a reminder of how not all good things can last, Yeji bursts in through the tent flap.

“She’s gone,” Yeji says, voice cracking with shock and worry. She’s wrapped in her blanket to cover her nightgown, her hair falling in tangled red curtains over her shoulders, clearly having just woken up. “She’s gone and a horse is missing.”

San’s heart drops down into his stomach.

He doesn’t need to ask who the “she” is that Yeji refers to, nor does he need to question where you went.

You’ve gone to find Woo. Alone.

You've gone to find Woo, alone, amongst men who are willing to pay a fortune to see you dead.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes, voicing San’s own thoughts.

“Do you know when she left?” San asks, as it couldn't have been long ago. It had to be some time after San came inside the tent, otherwise he would have noticed you sneak out.

“Her bed is still warm. So recently,” Yeji answers, confirming San’s suspicions.

“Alright,” San breathes, before turning to Seonghwa. “Let’s go.”

Seonghwa nods in agreement, and without another word, they’re on their feet and heading out through the tent flap. Annoyance bubbles within San’s gut. He told you not to go. He told you to wait until he came up with a plan. A plan that meant getting both you and Woo to safety, not forcing you all to pick between one or the other. He is not one of the gods and has no interest in playing one.

You seem to have made the decision yourself, and while San resents you for not telling him or Seonghwa what you were planning, he understands why you did it.

Because San was never going to come up with a better plan. Time has been ticking since the moment he found the message scrawled in the alley, and his ideas have run dry. There is no better way, it was always going to end in you heading up the mountain to Woo’s aid. You wouldn’t have had it any other way, and deep down San knows he would have had it the same.

He just wishes that they were there with you. There to help you. To protect you. To kill these men with far too much power, who took everything from you.

Who took everything from him when they kidnapped Woo.

The sun has begun to set over the horizon as you ride along the Concorsus Mountain Pass.

An entire day having come and gone, your pace relentless as you rode in a restless pursuit, your body now aches in protest. Your thighs burn from their friction against the horse’s back, the muscles in your arms throbbing from maintaining your grip on the reins. Your stomach rumbles and groans, gnawing at your insides in hunger, head-pounding in demand of water.

But there is no time to eat or drink, not when only the god’s know what the black-clad men are doing to Woo.

You’ve had an awful lot of time spent in silence to consider the many possibilities of how they could be torturing him, all too gut-wrenching and grotesque to even think about. You try to push away the images of Woo bathed in blood, his face swollen with bruises and infected wounds. You hope that they have him in a room somewhere, untouched, awaiting your inevitable arrival.

You also recognize this as wishful thinking.

Pushing the thoughts from your mind, you focus on the trail ahead of you. The Concorsus Mountain Pass is not an easy ride, the ground full of jagged rocks and rolling hills that have put your elementary equestrian skills to the test. Looming cliffs rest on each side of you, the black-colour of the rock like two blankets of darkness threatening to crush you between them.

The black-clad men did not specify where along the pass you were to meet them, but as you continue to ascend higher and higher, the increase in altitude making you feel both dizzy and nauseous, you imagine that they are stationed at the mountain’s summit.

As far away from Bebbanburg and any chance at aid you could possibly be.

You swallow hard, riding onwards. You have no help here, no protection. Having abandoned the safety net that San and Seonghwa created, you are truly alone in this. Your only protection is the sword attached to your waist, as well as Minho’s elixir residing in your pocket— if you could even consider that protection. It’s old magic, not even the god’s know what it will do. You aren’t particularly keen on ingesting it.

But if it comes down to a choice between life and death, a matter of saving Woo, you will.

With this in mind, you approach a rock wall. It’s not particularly large, five-feet tall at most, but your horse whinnies in protest as it comes to a stop before it. You try to give it a bit of encouragement, but the animal does not budge, clomping its hooves in irritation.

You sigh. This is not a horse from the kingdom stables, bred to ride and trained to jump, you have to leave it behind. Letting yourself down from its back, you grab the cliff’s edge, pulling yourself up and over the wall. Crawling up off your knees, you cast the animal a glance backwards, to which it meets with its black marble eyes.

The horse continues to huff, neighing in frustration. You frown as the animal grows louder, squealing as it lifts up onto its back legs, crying out.

“What the…” you mutter to yourself.

“It’s trying to warn you,” a voice says from behind.

You twist around, hand reaching for the sword at your waist, but you are not fast enough. The stranger grabs your wrist as you turn around, his other hand digging into your scalp. He pulls your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

He’s young, maybe only a couple years older than yourself, with dark eyes and pale skin. His light hair is made brighter through its contrast with the black armour he wears.

“Hey, Princess,” the man says, grinning. You spit in his face, but he simply laughs, giving your hair a sharp tug backward. His laughter is quickly accompanied by others, as more black-clad men appear from behind different dark rocks along the mountain walls. You count what appears to be a half-dozen of them, all different ages and sizes, appearances united only through the black armour they wear.

Giving your body a sharp twist, you catch the man off guard, before giving him a swift knee to the groin. He lets out a groan, his grasp on your hair relinquishing itself as he stumbles backward.

You’re prepared to run, to jump down from the cliff and back to your horse in hopes of finding more allusive passage, when you feel the coolness of metal along your throat.

“You’ve gained some spunk since we last saw you,” the man holding the knife whispers, seizing your wrist as he tugs your arm behind your back. You wonder if he was one of the men that chased you down the corridors following the besiegement, that hunted you in your father’s library. That killed Mingi in the stable.

“Good,” another adds, although which of the men is speaking you cannot tell. “It’ll make this all the more enjoyable.”

You were correct about their base being set at the mountain’s summit.

The men have been dragging you with them for what you assume has been roughly an hour, the setting sun having finally fallen victim to the night’s darkness. Stars glitter in the sky above you, and they are the only light present besides the singular torch one of the men carries, alighting the mountain pass in an ominous, orange hue.

They’ve remained silent since your capture, although the glances and cunning grins they’ve exchanged between one another have spoken loud enough. You don’t know what exactly is waiting for you at the summit, but you know it isn’t pretty.

The cave you approach at the top of the mountain seems fitting, as it's possibly the most unwelcoming entry-way you’ve ever seen. Sharp rocks align its entrance, each of them bleached white from sun exposure, creating the illusion of a monster’s gaping mouth.

You swallow hard, fear curdling within your stomach. It’s fitting, as entering a beast's mouth seems an awful lot like what you are doing.

Upon entering the cave, the initial darkness does not last long, as you spot light further up ahead of the winding tunnel. As you draw closer, you recognize the light to be lanterns, strown up and around the cave. The bustle of people fills your ears, their chatter growing louder with each passing step. When you finally leave the tunnel and enter the cave’s main area, you blink in surprise.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. Solemnity, perhaps. A dark cave with minimal light, nobody talking. A monster’s domain.

Instead, it reminds you an awful lot of the refuge, albeit smaller. There are plenty of tents set up, people sharing in conversation between them. Others spend their time chopping firewood, or brushing dirt and gravel away from their own tent’s entrance. To the left of the camp-site is a massive ravine, haphazardly blocked off by wooden pegs stringed together with rope. You are not close enough to the edge to tell, but you imagine the fall to be hundreds of feet down. Deadly.

You glance around, watching the many men bustling about, as if this were merely a war-camp and not the station of murderess assailants.

Then you see him.

Woo resides on a makeshift parapet in the center of the camp, chains clamped around his wrists that are attached to large stone pillars on both sides of him. He sits on his knees, head hanging out in front of him, his hair falling in a dark mop that hides face. It appears that if it weren’t for the chains holding his arms up, he’d have already crumpled over.

Your blood runs cold.

The talking comes to a quiet as you enter, the dozens of black-clad soldiers all turning away from their conversations or menial tasks to face you. “Look who we found wandering,” the man holding you says, bringing his knife up from your throat to your cheek. He presses the blade against your jaw, forcing you to look up, displaying your face to the many men watching you.

Some of the men begin to snicker, a few even cheer as the man pushes the blade a little harder, piercing your skin. You can feel the blood trickle down your neck, although the sensation feels more like a dream than reality, as you catch sight of a man walking towards you.

Not just any man, but the one that chased you through the library. The one that cornered you in the stables.

The man responsible for Mingi’s death.

He walks slowly, almost a saunter as he appears to be in no rush. His posture holds a sense of confident ease, of power, and you’re certain that he is the commander of this army. His narrow, wrinkled face adorns a thick black beard. His eyes are dark, sharp as they scan you up and down, a satisfied smile plastered across his lips.

“Well,” the commander says, his voice not particularly deep, but intimidating nonetheless. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You say nothing, merely stare back at him, venom in your gaze.

“I’m assuming you’re here to save your friend then,” he says, continuing despite your silence. “How very noble.”

You do not give him the satisfaction of a retort.

“You’ve become rather stoic since I last saw you,” the commander says, eyes flashing with something awful. Something cruel. “Before you wouldn’t stop screaming. Begging your other friend not to sacrifice himself— the tall silver-haired boy, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, tears stinging in the backs of your eyes. They are born of rage, not sadness. You do not let them fall.

“I suppose this is some sort of retribution for that, isn’t it?” The man continues, tone calm, almost light. “He gave his life for you, so now you’ll give yours for another.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, this time louder and with far more bite.

“You should have heard him scream. You should have heard the sound it made when my sword entered him again and again-”

You’ve had enough of this. Tears sting your eyes, fists trembling at your sides. You don’t have to listen to this man, give in to his taunts. He simply wants to have some enjoyment before he kills you, some sick sort of pleasure. Your father always said it was impolite to play with your food, and for once you’d have to agree with him.

“Woo!” You shout, turning your attention away from the man in front of you, from his barbed provocation. When Woo does not look at you, nor move his head from its slumped position, you try again. “Woo, can you hear me?”

“Unfortunately, Wooyoung isn’t quite with us anymore,” the commander answers with a sigh, tone sympathetic, although the smile he wears is anything but. “Not mentally, anyway.”

You frown at the use of Woo’s full name. How does he know that? Did Woo tell him?

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your voice low as fury rises hot in your throat, pulsing within your mind.

The man grins. A mischievous, dangerous, evil grin. “Would you like to come and see?”

The commander nods towards the man holding you, giving a look that says— no, orders: “Let her go.” The man’s knife falls away from your throat as he reliquishes his grip on your arm. You can still feel the spot where his fingers were, aching where bruises will surely soon appear.

Nobody moves to grab you, and it strikes you that in this moment, you could try to flee. Bolt back down the tunnel, dozens of men sure to take after you and grab you once more. You’re certain they would be far less liberal on your second capture.

You could try and fight. Relinquish your sword from its sheath and take out as many as possible. It would likely be only one or two, considering they’d all be on you and you don’t have San here to coach you through it. By the god’s you wish that San were here.

But he is not, and thus instead of fleeing or fighting you follow the man, obeying as his hand beckons you forward. “Good girl,” he says, and your gut clenches in disgust, face twisting with repulsion.

If the commander is offended by the expression, he doesn’t show it. Instead he continues walking, the two of you winding past different groups of the black-clad men, each of their gazes falling over you. You feel like a gazelle in a den of lions, their stares hungry for your blood.

When you reach Woo, you take a step forward, unsure of what exactly you plan to do. Perhaps move the thick mess of tangled hair from his face, or give the chains some slack to loosen the pull on his wrists. You just need to do something.

The commander places an arm out, stopping you. “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

“Well, good thing you’re not me,” you cut back through gritted teeth, moving towards Woo. You crouch down, reaching for the chain on his right wrist.

“Woo, I’m here,” you say, trying to keep your voice level, even as it shakes. The commander had suggested that Woo wasn’t mentally here, and while you aren’t sure exactly what that may mean, you know you should navigate this with caution.

When your hand touches the chain around his wrist, Woo lets out an awful, blood-curdling noise. You’d describe it as a scream, but that would make it too human. It is nothing less than animalistic.

Flames emerge from the elemental’s palms, scorching your arm. You yank your hand away, wincing as pain bubbles within your fingers. Despite yourself, you step back, clutching your burnt hand.

Woo looks at you, except that he doesn’t really. Instead his eyes almost look through you, unfocused and distant, although that’s the least of what worries you about his appearance.

Apart from the unsettling and distant look to his eyes, the whites of them have shifted to a strange and unnatural purple colour, like blooming lilacs during the spring season. It contrasts greatly against the many thick red veins expanding out from his pupils, which have spread across his iris’ in a way that reminds you of black marbles.

His wrists are laced with wounds, the metal of his bonds having heated up due to the fire he unleashed from his palms. The burns are clearly infected as they beam a revolting yellow, puss forming within their deep gashes. Those will scar, you have no doubt.

Sweat beads along Woo’s temple, trailing down his face and onto his neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his entire body is drenched, all of his clothes soaked through. He trembles, tremors seizing his body as he breathes heavily, chest heaving as he appears to not be able to get enough air.

“What did you do to him?” You whisper. The man chuckles.

“We gave him an elixir of sorts,” he answers, and your stomach twists at the thought. Old magic. The weight of your own potion grows heavy in your pocket.

Woo continues to shake, arms trembling as he continues to look through you. Tears form in his eyes as he begins to murmur beneath his breath, although what exactly you cannot make out. You didn’t know what the men would do to him, what state he would be in, but you never could have imagined this. Fury twists in your gut like a cheap ale, making you feel sick with ferocity.

“Why would you do this?” You ask, and it’s the question that has been pressing down on your shoulders ever since you watched the dagger enter your father's stomach. You twist towards the commander, and despite how he stands taller than you, you do not let yourself appear weak. Chin held up high, you meet his gaze.

“Why would you destroy my kingdom? Why would you spend so much time and effort hunting me across Burovia? Why would you place such an utter fortune of a bounty on my head?” You look him up and down. “Who are you?”

The man grins. “Me? I am nobody.”

“Enough games-” You snarl, but he merely shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave.

“You think I care about a pampered royal brat bred by a kingdom of snakes?” The commander asks, his dark eyes glimmering in the many lantern’s light. “I couldn't care less about your disaster of a court, although I must say I enjoyed burning it to the ground.”

You frown. “Then why would you-”

“Because my employer cares,” he cuts you off, tone final. He folds his arms behind his back, a clicking noise filling the air as he taps his fingers along his black armor.

“Who is your employer?” You press further, ignoring how the noise matches the beat of your racing heart, that’s pace only increases with each passing second.

“I am not to say,” he answers with a shrug.

You grit your teeth, frustration building in your chest. “If you plan to kill me then what does it matter?”

The man hums, grin growing wider with satisfaction. “Does it scare you, the possibility of never knowing?” He takes a step forward. “Does it terrify you to never know why your kingdom burned to ash, to never know why your father was murdered?”

The man is close now, peering down at you, the crow’s feet along the edges of his ageing eyes more prominent as he stands before you. He reaches forward, running two of his fingers along your bare cheek.

“Does it frighten you that you’ll never know why you died?” He asks.

You do not flinch, even as he touches you, even as your body demands it. “You do not scare me,” you lie.

He chuckles at this, his hand still placed on your cheek, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin. “Your eyes say otherwise.”

The commander reaches to his side, pulling out a knife. Its long blade is serrated, details of stars carved into its wooden hilt. It reminds you a bit of the one Seonghwa gave you, the one Woo took on that first night you met them.

He extends the blade out towards you, hilt settled neatly in his open palm. “Would you like to do the honours? Or should I?”

You stare at the knife out before you, its blade a cool white, almost glowing within the cave’s dim lighting. He’s offering you a choice. Not of whether or not you will die, but how. Or better, by whom.

To do the deed yourself, or have it done by his own hand.

Your hand hovers out in front of you, fingertips a mere inch away from the hilt. You stare at the knife, at its cool iron, at its spotless white blade. Soon to be tainted. Your hand shakes despite your attempt to steady it.

It’s a horrible, horrible decision to make.

Fortunately, the arrow that embeds itself in the commander’s arm liberates you from making it.

Sticking out from the crook of his elbow, nestled within a small gap in armor that was designed for amplified movement, the man lets out a shocked groan of pain. The knife clatters on the cave’s rocky floor as he brings his hand to the wound, the blood emerging from the black fabric not noticeable until it coats his pale fingers.

In unison, both you and the commander twist in the direction from which the arrow flew.

Seonghwa stands atop a rock in the far corner of the cavern, bow drawn up, still in the position from which he let the arrow fly. You nearly let out a cry of relief. Joyous, unadulterated relief.

A scream cuts through the air, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

There’s another noise, a gargled and choked sort of cry, and you hear the sharp sound of the many black-clad men unsheathing their swords before you actually see them do it.

This is because your focus is not on them. It’s on San, as he holds a body out before him. It’s one of the men that captured you on the mountain pass, the young blonde. San’s sword sticks out through the man’s chest, blood pooling out from his mouth as his eyes grow dim.

It’s immediate, how the cavern erupts into chaos.

“Seize them!” The commander orders his battalion, before ripping the arrow from his arm. Despite the blood leaking from the now open wound, his movements are agile as he removes the sword from his own sheath. The blade is as black as night, matching its shadowy hilt.

You stare him down, relinquishing your own sword, your mother’s sapphire glittering.

You prepare to take a step forward, however, something presses up behind your back. You prepare to twist around, strike the oncoming threat. However, San’s voice fills your ear, quiet as he speaks over his shoulder. “We move together.”

“Alright,” you breathe, lifting your long-sword out before you as San’s back presses into your own. “Together.”

The black-clad men attack.

They move at you from all directions. San places his free-hand along your waist, guiding you with him. The two of you move with the grace of one being, fending off the dark wave of men that surround you like a swarm of hornets defending their hive.

You swing at one of the men, catching his shoulder as San pushes on your left hip. You move with it, narrowly dodging the strike of a different enemy blade, the breeze of his swing cool against your cheek. The failed strike catches the owner of the blade off-balance, allowing you to seize the opportunity to stab your sword into the soft spot of his breastplate, straight through the opening just below the pit of his arm. The man cries out, face knotting together in agony as he falls to the ground.

You do not allow yourself the time to dwell on how you’ve likely just taken that man’s life, how there are even more to come, as you slice your sword along another soldier’s neck. Save yourself, save Woo, save your kingdom. You can mourn the horrors of your deeds later, for now that is all that matters.

You catch a glimpse of a man in the corner of your vision, hair the colour of flame as he sneaks in behind the soldier whose chest you currently run-through with your blade. You won’t reach him in time, his sword is raised high in the air, another second and he’ll bring it down on your neck-

An arrow shoots right through his skull, entering near his ear as the point sticks out the other side of his head. Blood sprays out from the wound, splattering onto your tunic. The man crumples to the ground, falling in the direction of the arrow’s path. Dead.

Your gaze shoots to Seonghwa. He stands atop the rock, eyes wide as his gaze falls to the man on the ground. The man he killed. Horror is plastered across his own expression, as if realizing what he has done. Woo had once told you that Seonghwa has only ever wounded with his arrows. He’s never killed, not even beasts.

You worry he will crumble, just as you did after the mimic, just as you had the first time you’d taken the life of something. Instead Seonghwa swallows hard, a glazed look to his eyes as he gives you a nod, before removing another arrow from his quiver. You have a sense he’s also saving his pain for later.

San tugs you to the left, and your gaze is pulled away from Seonghwa and back to the battle before you. A man swings at you, and you push backwards against San to avoid the swipe. You worry it will cause San to tumble, but instead he sinks lower on knees, flattening his back. Using it for support, you fall back and into the air, giving the man in front of you a firm kick to the chest that sends him backwards, crashing into a few of the men behind him.

You grin. It’s satisfying, watching the men who took everything from you struggle.

And struggle they do indeed. You and San work as a tight-knit unit as Seonghwa picks off the stranglers with his arrows, as well as those attempting to crawl atop his residing stone.

“By the gods,” you think. “We’re winning.”

However, if you are aware of this, so is the man leading the operation.

You search for the commander amidst the swarm of black armour surrounding you, trying to pin-point his dark beard and aging face. He doesn’t appear to be a part of the mob.

“Do you know where he went? The commander?” You ask San, yelling over the sound of battle cries and the screams of the wounded. San does not respond immediately, likely searching for him amidst the crowd.

San lets out a sudden growl of annoyance. “He’s with Woo.”

You glance over your shoulder, seeing the commander next to the elemental. He stands behind Woo, lips drawn close to his ear, hand placed on the elemental’s shoulder. You cannot hear what the commander is saying to him, but you know that it is nothing good.

Woo’s eyes are wide, the purple where the white’s of his eyes should be growing darker. Tears stream down his face and they are a matching colour, like drops of ink. You can see Woo whispering something, and while you cannot make out the words, the desperation on his face makes you believe that he is begging. Although what he is pleading for you do not know.

Fire surrounds them, leaking from Woo’s fingertips and onto the cavern floor. The flames run thick, the consistency of molten lava. You’ve never seen that from an elemental before, didn’t even know it was possible..

“We need to make our way over there,” you say while stabbing your sword into the arm of a black-clad soldier. You can feel San nod his head in affirmation.

Wrapping his free hand tighter around your waist, San pulls you with him, the two of you spinning through an opening within the mob. You nearly trip over something, and upon looking down you see that it is a body. His dead eyes look up at you. They are a light hazel.

You would vomit if there was anything solid in your stomach.

San pulls you past the man before you can stare at him for too long, before you can memorize the features of his face, before you can wonder if it was he or you who killed him.

So much death. So much needless death. You close your eyes, only for the briefest of moments, for the split of a second. You imagine you are the person you had been a mere month ago. The girl who let her baths be drawn from her, her clothes picked out and placed on her body by others. The girl who sulked when Mingi left for battle training, who’d never held a sword in her hands, let alone ran someone through with it.

You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again.

San continues to pull you with him through the opening within the dark swarm, letting go of your waist as the two of you break through and sprint towards Woo.

The commander continues to whisper into the elemental’s ear, more molten lava dripping from Woo’s hands. It forms in pools on the cavern floor, slowly trailing down the parapet in a way that reminds you of the baby basilisks, like long thin glowing snakes.

It’s not until now that you realize what the commander is doing, as Woo grows more and more affected by his words, blood-vessel’s bursting in his eyes as red mixes itself into the purple. A mosaic of burning hues.

The commander knows that he is losing, which means he’s pulling out a last resort, willing to play his wild-card. He plans to use Woo as a weapon. He’ll do whatever it takes to take you out, even if that means his battalion goes down with you. Bastard.

The commander steps back from Woo, walking over to the top of the chain tied to one of the stone pillars. He will set Woo free, grant him full range of motion with his gift. After all, an elemental can only summon flame with movement, with the dancing of their fingers or full swing of their arms.

Only Woo is not your average elemental.

Before the commander can finish untying the first chain, Woo screams. It’s not as animalistic as his last, but far, far more broken. Fire flares out from around him, a massive wave of curling flames that tumbles in all directions, standing over ten feet tall.

You grab San’s wrist, yanking him with you as you dive behind the nearest rock. Face pressed to the ground, you do not see the fire as it stretches over top of you, but you can feel its heat along your back even through your tunic. Screams echo from all around, bouncing off of the cavern's walls, and you know that not everyone was so lucky.

Once the heat disappears, both you and San are quick to settle onto your knees, peering up over the rock. Woo’s head has fallen back down, shrouded in tangled black hair, chest heaving as he catches his breath. The commander, who had fallen to the ground behind him, rises to his feet.

You gasp.

While it appears he managed to find shelter before the flames completely engulfed him, he also did not make it out unscathed. The left half of his face burns a bright red colour, the skin bubbling with boils in a way resembles lumps of flour in unkneaded dough. His dark hair is gone on the affected side, both on his face and the top of his head, smoke billowing out from his disintegrated scalp.

With so much of his skin burned off, his eye nearly pops from his head, stark against his bright red skin. He looks undead, like a walking skeleton, the teeth on the left side of his mouth permanently visible due to his upper lip having been incinerated. His gums bleed, the red almost glowing against the whiteness of his teeth.

Your gut twists at the sight of him, and you have to look away.

Black-clad soldiers sit slumped around the cavern, broken moans leaving their lips as the fire was not enough to kill them all. The agony of their cries fills your ears, and although you fight against it tears sting your eyes. You know that these are bad men, men who killed your father and countless innocents in the castle, who ruined your life and want nothing more than to see your end.

But right now they are just men. They are just human, each one with their own life and story, and they are dying a slow and horrible death.

The blow to the back of your head stops you from becoming too absorbed in remorse.

It comes sharp and quick, carrying the heaviness of what you assume is a rock, and your vision momentarily sways. It doesn’t knock you out, but it does throw you off balance, giving the attacker enough time to seize your wrist. They give it a sharp twist, causing you to let out a whine of pain as your sword clatters to the ground.

The culprit drags you from behind, and you fight to remain on your feet. You shout to San, and while he twists to face you he is moment too late, as the person from behind shoves you away from them.

And into the arms of the commander.

The commander grins, his smile even more unsettling with his missing lip as he casts an appreciative nod to the young, brunette soldier who had grabbed you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, uncomfortably tight as he turns you to face away from him, chest pressed against your back.

With his spare hand he holds a knife to your throat.

“Enough of this,” the commander says. “Put your weapons down.”

The world around you stills as San comes to a halt, gaze sharp as his good eye flickers between you and the commander, analyzing the situation. He appears to come to no solution as he slowly retracts his sword back into its sheath.

However, not everyone follows his orders.

“Let her go.”

Seonghwa no longer resides atop the rock, likely having dived behind it to avoid the flames. Now on the ground, he stands roughly twenty feet ahead of you, his bow up and arrow drawn.

“What an awful accent,” the man laughs, and his voice sounds more manic now that he is on the verge of defeat. Of death. His cheek presses to yours, and you can feel his spittle against your skin, smell the rotten tang of his breath. “Like a Mainlander that swallowed his tongue.”

Seonghwa’s frown deepens, eyebrows furrowing together as he pulls the bow taught.

“You let that arrow fly and we both go down with it, boy,” the commander warns, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Such an awful smile. “Choose wisely.”

For a moment you don’t understand what he means, but realization sinks like a stone in your gut. The ravine resides behind you, hundreds of feet deep, the belly of a monster whose darkness would swallow you whole.

“Take your mutt and leave,” the man says to San, nodding towards Woo, who has returned to his slumped position, skin glistening with sweat as his arms tremble.

“So you can kill her as soon as we’re gone?” San bites back, tone venomous. “I don’t think so.”

“I promise to make it quick and painless,” the man says softly, before pressing the knife into your neck. Not deep, but enough to make you gasp in pain. “Otherwise I can make it very, very slow.”

Seonghwa’s hands grip tighter around the bow, San’s expression settling into a snarl of fury. However, neither of them move. If San moves to attack him, he’ll simply slice your throat. If Seonghwa fires the arrow, you’ll plummet with him. You try to reach Minho’s elixir in your pocket, but cannot manage it. Besides, even if you did manage to grasp it, there’s no way the commander would let you go long enough to down the liquid.

He has you cornered, and you all know it.

Well, that is except for one of you. You turn to Woo.

The elemental does not look at you as you speak. “Woo,” you call, the knife sharp against your throat as it bobs. “Can you hear me?”

“No, he can’t hear you.” The commander whispers into your ear, and you can feel the hollowness of his cheek as he speaks, the rough and ruined texture of his skin. “Or maybe he can, but who knows how much of him is even left in there.”

“Woo,” you call again, ignoring him, even as his words send a shiver down your spine. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s me. It’s us, we’re all here. San, Seonghwa and I. We’re all here.”

Woo twitches at this, although he still does not lift his head. You hear him murmuring something beneath his breath, and it’s a moment until you can register what he is saying.

“You’re not real,” he whispers, voice shaky and blubbered. “You’re not real.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what he did to you, and I don’t know what you’re seeing or hearing or what’s going on, but I need you to lift your head.”

He doesn’t respond and you try again. “Please, Woo. Please, just lift your head for me.”

It takes a moment, but shakily, he does. His hair falls in dark matted clumps over his blood-shot, purple-stained eyes. His pupils still do not focus on you, a distant vacantness to the broken expression across his tear-stained face.

“Leave me alone,” he says, and it is a hoarse, beaten plea. “Please, please just stop. Let me die. Don’t bring me back. Please. I deserve it.”

Your heart twists at hearing Woo - confident, self-assured, unbreakable Woo - say something so self-demoralizing.

However, it’s with these words, these broken claims that he deserves it, that you have an idea of what horrors he may be seeing before him.

“Wooyoung,” you say, and you notice as Seonghwa’s brows furrow in confusion at the name, San raising an eyebrow. Perhaps it's the first time they’ve heard it. “Wooyoung do you remember our conversation by the fire?”

“Please just stop,” he whispers, shaking his head as more of the molten lava begins to leak from his hands.You don’t even know if he’s still listening, but this is your last shot, so you push on.

“You told me that you knew you should regret what you did to the wardens, that it should eat you up inside. But it didn’t, because they deserved it.”

Tears continue to stream down Woo’s face, which is contorted in a pained, agonizing expression. However, as he does not deny your words or continue his broken mumbling, you take his silence as a sign to continue.

“I haven’t been able to forgive myself for what I’ve done, and I don’t think I ever will,” you continue, and you know both San and Seonghwa are watching you as you can feel the heaviness of their gazes. The confused curiosity mixed with desperation that swirls within them, staring intently. Yet, you ignore them. You ignore the commander and the knife at your throat, the wails of agony in the air and the thick stench of burnt flesh.

Right now it is just you and the broken elemental before you. You and Woo.

“But that’s the difference between us,” you say, swallowing hard. “I chose to harm people that never deserved it.”

“Enough of this,” the commander says through gritted teeth, pressing the knife harder against your neck. Choking down the increasing pain, you ignore him.

“And you never deserved it Woo, any of it. Any of what Warden did to you, any of my father’s cruelty, any of my lies. None of it was ever deserved.”

Woo’s breathing begins to escalate, but this time it is not as if he’s having trouble taking in air, it’s as if he has realized that he finally can.

“Enough,” the commander says again, with more anger in his voice as he appears to come to the same realization about Woo as you do.

“You’re there,” Woo whispers. His gaze is still lost and distant, his limbs still trembling and words blubbered with misery and fear. But there is also something more. Something powerful.

“We’re here,” you say back, relief blossoming in your chest. Even as the commander twists the back of your wrist and you let out a cry of pain, you’re filled with an undeniable, unbridled sense of hope.

“We need your help, Wooyoung,” you say, and the elemental swallows hard in response.

“I can’t,” he says, voice a quiet breath as he shakes his head in denial.

“You can,” you say, tone firm. You have him, even if only for a moment, and you will not let yourself lose him again. “You’ve done it before.”

Wooyoung stops shaking his head as he realizes what you are suggesting.

“Stop this!” the commander says, and now he’s shouting. He means it as a demand, as a threat, but it sounds instead an awful lot like a plea.

“You can do it, Wooyoung,” you say, the softness leaving your voice and replacing itself with a hardened encouragement. You will not yield.

“How do you know?” He asks, and even though his voice shakes, its weakness has fallen away.

A grin spreads across your lips. Even with the knife to your throat, the burnt bodies around, and the commander rotting breath hot against your skin, you smile.

You smile because you know you’ve won.

“Because, Wooyoung,” you say. “He deserves it.”

You can feel the commander’s grip around the knife clench, his elbow brought higher as he prepares himself to slice it clean across your throat.

“I said enough-”

A blast of heat ignites from behind you, burning hot along your back, and you instinctively push forward. The commander's grip loosens without protest, the knife within his hand falling to the ground, clattering against the cavern’s rocky floor. A strong stench floods your senses, the same horrid and sickening scent that had previously hung around the cavern, only now increased ten-fold.

You twist around, putting yourself face-to-face with the commander, who’s entire body is engulfed in flame.

His screams leave him like waves crashing along the shoreline, powerful and ominous amidst their build-up but shattered and broken upon their downfall. The fire spreads across his body in a way that is almost unnatural, hugging close to his flesh as it eats away at his skin, a vicious parasite devouring him whole. He stumbles, and you cannot make out his expression, his face covered in the burning orange glow. Perhaps it is better that way.

He reaches forward blindly, his flame-covered hands extended outwards as he searches for your body. Even in death, he seeks to take you with him. Find his glory, his vengeance, even if it’s accompanied by his final breath.

And yet, even with all he has done to you, Woo, and your family, you grant the commander one final mercy.

A quick death.

Reaching forward, you place your palms flat against his chest, giving him a firm push. It burns your hands, although only for a moment, as he stumbles backwards. His foot catches on one of the pegs tied together with rope before the cliff, sending him tumbling backwards. Time appears to stand still for a moment, an eternity slipping by as he hangs in the air, a ball of glowing flame suspended above the ravine’s gaping mouth.

He falls, the glow like a spark slowly diminishing, until it disappears entirely. You do not hear him crash against what lays beyond the darkness.

There’s a moment of silence that follows as you stare over the ravine’s edge. You half-expect the commander to fly back upwards, to catch you in a moment of weakness, suddenly equipped with new fire abilities of his own.

He does not. There is only darkness.

You turn back around. Both San and Seonghwa stare at you, both of their expressions difficult to place. Mouths parted slightly and eyes wide, they appear to be in disbelief. Awe, even. You imagine your face looks the same.

Woo sits with head hung over, eyes closed. For a moment you fear he is dead, but from the shaky rise and fall of his chest, you know that he is merely unconscious.

There is the sound of footsteps as the few black-clad men left unscathed flee down the cave’s passage-way, leaving you behind.

“Well,” San whispers, his good eye drifting from you, to Seonghwa, to the scattered bodies around you, before finally settling on Woo. He laughs, shaky and unsure, but at the same time so, so sincere. “Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next chapter coming soon.

thank you for reading! feel free to come chat with me about any thoughts you may have, feedback is the one thing that keeps me going tbh. also, if you’re bored in the meantime, here are both my ateez and skz masterlists for your convenience. i hope to see you around :3

#fic recs

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sugas-sweetheart · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, congrats on 500 followers :)) For the event, could I get a Iida + Cafe AU. I think it would be rlly cute <3

A/N: Thank you!! Oooo I’ve never written for Iida so I apologise for anything that seems out of character! I did this as barista!reader x iida and I apologise for the abrupt ending I had trouble finishing this one >_<

Flash Sale M.list

Tenya wasn’t exactly sure when he had decided the dorms were too distracting for his third year studies.

Well, if he actually thought about it he’d know exactly when and why, but that was in the past for him now.

He had been leaving the dorms every other night for quite a few weeks now, promptly leaving his dorm at 4:40pm to arrive at the cafe he had deemed “study worthy” by 5pm.

The routine was odd to him at first, he had never thought he would use the 3rd year privilege of being able to leave the dorms whenever for studying.

He had been calmly studying in his dorm the past two and a half years so why now?

Finding somewhere to study was his first task all those weeks ago, and he came across a little cafe wedged between a book shop and a small fabric and sewing shop.

He saw you on his first visit there.

Coming to the front in a slight rush from, you tied the apron around you getting prepared to start your evening shift.

There was only one or two people in front of Iida in the queue, but it gave him enough time to asses what he was going to get, and to admire you for the first time.

He ordered with some confidence, still feeling slightly out of place alone and in a new location.

He definitely looked into your eyes for a little too long as he ordered.

With a smile, you told him you’d take his order to him once he was seated and that was only the first interaction.

It started off slow at first, he’d come in every few days to sit in the same corner table and pull out his notes and work.

Every time you’d both make small conversation as he ordered, sometimes slipping him a free snack because of how many drinks he’d buy over the week.

You found out he went to UA, he found out what you were studying in your own school and hoping to go onto, the cafe job was just for some extra money while you were studying.

You asked about his quirk and he’d tell you about it and said that if you ever wanted to ask him more you knew where he was sat.

From then you’d take your breaks to sit with him in the corner, taking your own drink and snack to join him while he studied.

He thought you were fascinating, was it the way everyone that visited the cafe seemed to love you? or the way you smiled at him when he came in? maybe it was just everything about you for him.

If he was honest, he didn’t always have work to do but would take his laptop and books with him anyway as a reason to see you.

As you got to know each other his infatuation grew deeper, and so did yours, how this smart UA student caught your attention so much in such short time confused you to no end sometimes.

It was your third years and if neither of you said anything about these feelings then you’d both move on and move away and never know what could have been.

Neither of you wanted to pass that opportunity up, but neither of you were the most forward people sometimes.

Opting to live the cliche you joked about when you first started working in a cafe, you chose to write your number on his cup today.

It took him a moment to realise that your number was in fact written on the side of his cup.

And he was very surprised and slightly flustered at the sight of your phone number with a small heart that you had drawn next to it. You could tell by his facial expressions that he had found the number and while you were scared of his reaction, it also made you laugh.

He saw you laughing and it made him more flustered, he wasn’t entirely sure how to react aside from the fact he knew and had processed over the previous weeks that he did in fact like you back. The smile on your face as you composed yourself to go attend to the next customer was so cute to him.

Once your break came round, you arrived with a free treat for him, and your own drink.

Iida had been practising how he was going to ask you out for awhile in his head, and once you had seated yourself across from him he couldn’t wait much longer to say it.

“Would you like to go out for Coffee? Not here of course, unless you’d feel more comfortable here-” “Yes I would, Iida” He was beginning to ramble and you had to say yes before he got too far into his slight nonsense.

With the next few moments sat in a slightly awkward silence, he processed your response. He had more or less figured out that the outcome wouldn't lead to rejection but there was always a possibility.

With a quick call from your co worker at a small influx of customers, you smiled at him and bid your goodbye for now before taking your drink away with you.

He might just have to visit the cafe a little more often from now on.

taglist: @justamultifandomfan16 @mattsvn @meliorist-midoriya @goopyartiste @yee-harr @bizzoldmann-08 @katsushimaa @mystic-helena @spookykiri @ohno-grapes @silkylious @hannahalanib1 @boosyboo9206 @derpeedoo @katsulovee

#boku no hero academia #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero headcanons #BNHA Headcanons #tenya headcanons #tenya iida #iida x reader #iida tenya #my hero academia #my hero academia tenya #my hero headcanons #my hero x reader #mha headcanons #mha iida #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia headcanons

52 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 5 years ago

Note

OMG UNI YOONGI TALKING TO LISA TO MAKE OC JEALOUS BUT Y/N GETS A LIDDOL UPSET BC LISA'S SO PRETTY AND SO PLAN BACKFIRES AND YOONGI IS LIKE OHNO

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; uni!yoongiverse!!!!! if u want to read something that’ll make your heart happy then you just struck gold

➺ wordcount: 6.4k

➺ summary; yoongi’s plan to make you jealous doesn’t go exactly as he’d expected.

➺ what to expect; “i’m y/n y/l/n, my student ID is 10120200, and today i will be discussing the neurobiology behind the complicated mask of romantic attraction.”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read some other drabbles from the uni!yoongiverse!

➺ note; okay so thiS was originally how y/n and yoongi got together in the first place but before i had a chance to finish it i ended up writing that christmas mistletoe drabble instead!!! but i still wanted to share this version with u guys :-) also i am the worst at finding the source for gifs but i found it off here!! and the info used in this drabble is from this website!! ok i’m shutting up now happy reading!!!

»»————-　♡　————-««

yoongi is not used to this

and by this he means you

and by you he means he doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to be as into him as much as he’s into you and it’s weird because (not to toot his own horn or anything) he thinks he’s preTTy good at wrapping people around his dainty pinky finger and it just doesn’t seem to be working with you!!

did that sentence even make any sense??

does anything even make any sense anymore????

“-i guess, to answer your question, i don’t really know what to do which is weird because i’m usually pretty confident with everything that i do. you know?” yoongi sighs and shakes his head

the cashier blinks owlishly at him

all she asked him was ‘how are you doing today?’

“so… are you going to order anything or…?

yoongi clears his throat before turning to glance at the very long line of impatient university students wanting their daily fix of caffeine

see????

look what you’ve doNE TO HIM

you’ve broken him and he doesn’t know how to fix himself!!

“…one medium iced vanilla cold brew, please.”

yoongi stares blankly into space as he slurps up the remainder of his coffee

he shakes the cup around a little and the ice rattles inside

“good morning!”

yoongi looks up and nods in acknowledgement as lisa plops down next to him

anyone who’s said that you can’t be friends with your ex obviously didn’t have a meaningful relationship with them

because yoongi and lisa are doing just fine!

they take a history course together

he didn’t actually knoW they were in the same class until he was (very) late to class one day and the only seat left was next to her and he thought that if he didn’t sit next to her the next class that that would open up a whole can of worms that he definitely did noT want to open up (“how come you’re not sitting with me anymore? is it because we used to have sex and now you can’t look me in the eye without thinking about how you broke up with me and your reason was ‘i don’t know, i just feel like we’re… not a great couple’?”)

but the point is

they get along great!

they don’t hang out outside of class but they get along inside of class which is what matters

“shit, did you happen to get the notes from the last slide? i missed some of the last bullet points-“ lisa grabs yoongi’s notebook and huffs when she sees that all he has on this page are some half-assed notes and a lot of doodles “you are of no use to me.”

“it’s all part of my charm, baby.” yoongi sighs and leans back against the squeaky seat

“i have no idea what i saw in you in the first place.” lisa mumbles to herself as returns her attention to the screen

“oh, babe… you’re making me blush!” yoongi coos before giving her a little punch on the shoulder

“you’re making me want to jump off a cliff- and don’t touCH me-“

and all of a sudden

it hits him

he knows what to do to get you to talk to him!!

he’s spent the last forty minutes of class thinking about your cuTe face and how he’s going to get closer to you but something about what lisa said just inspired him

actually it had nothing to do with what lisa said

it had more to do with her presence and her subtle reminder that they used to date

he needs a catalyst of some kind

he needs to.,.,., to catalyse yoU!

(he learned that word from chemistry but he’s not sure if he’s using it correctly he’ll have to fact-check that with u)

yoongi nudges lisa’s side and she scowls before nudging him back harder

“oW- cut it out-“ yoongi grumbles and swats at her hand

“you started it-“

“will you just shut up-“

“yoU shut up-“

“i need your help with something.” yoongi hisses as he begins to scribble the plan down on his notebook so that lisa can read it instead of him having to whisper it to her in its entirety

he’s not very useful to her but she’s about to be very useful to him

he now knows exactly what to do

>:-)

“if you keep bouncing your leg like that i won’t hesitate to slice it off with this flimsy wooden pathetic excuse of a knife.” jimin leans over to poke the tip of the dull knife into your forearm and you huff before whacking his hand away

“i can’t help it, you knoW i get jumpy when i’m nervous.”

god

you feel itchy

is it hot in here??

or is it just you??

hopefully your armpits aren’t sweaty

nothing kills the mood more than swampy pits

am i right ladies

“y/n, you know he likes you back-“

“no, actually, i don’t know that.” you shake your head before leaning over to peek at the entrance of the cafeteria doors again “he’s never explicitly stated that he likes me back so i can’t just go around-“

“he doesn’t need to tell you! he- he literally spooned you in the middle of class aND he made me give up being your partner for the presentation so that he could be your partner instead.” jimin raises a brow when you look back at him

“…and your point is?”

he groans quietly and rolls his eyes

how can someone so smart be so stupid at the same time

here’s what’s happening

you think you’re finally going to do something about your feelings for yoongi (gross)

and the thing is, you actually weren’t planning on doing anything today because you like to plan things out in advance but somehoW jimin convinced you that this would be a good idea

anyways

you’re going to ask yoongi if he’d like to join you (and jimin) for lunch!

it’s not a big step but at least it’s somEthing

and it’s not like asking him to sit with you at lunch is you professing your undying love for him

it’s just lunch!

maybe if you’re lucky, when he sits down next to you, you can scooch in closer so that the side of your leg is touching the side of his leg

and if you’re extra lucky, maybe he won’t move away from you when you do that

:’)

you perk up when you see yoongi step into the cafeteria and your heart skips a beat when the two of you make eye contact for a brief second before he’s looking away and joining the line

alrighty

that’s your cue!

“alright-“ you slide out of the booth and wipe your clammy hands on the back of your jeans “wish me luck!”

jimin shoots you a thumbs up before reaching over to steal one of the watermelon cubes out of your fruit cup

okay

this’ll be fine

you’ll be greAt

all you have to do is ask yoongi if he wants to come and sit with you

…but you can’t just ask him without saying hi

so say hi first

you know what

you should’ve practiced this in your head before getting up and leaving the safety of the table

but now it’s too late to turn back because you’re already halfway to yoongi and you can’t just tuRn back because you know he saw you and he’s going to think it’s weird if you stopped and whipped around halfway through your somewhat confident stride towards him

damnit

daMNIT

okAY what are you going to say??

hi yoongi… how are you?

nO no that’s oddly polite

hi yoongi… what are you going to order?

nope not that either

hi yoongi… chemistry, am i right? how are your slides for the presentation coming along? i noticed some of your facts were a bit broad so i made some comments on the side to help-

??? hoW do you steer the conversation from there?? NERD

hi yoongi… what’s up with the meatloaf here?? what’s in this mystery meat?? i guess that’s why they call it a mystery! hAh

…ok that one was just weird

and just as you’re a couple feet away from yoongi, that’s when you notice that he’s not alone

nope

because he’s engaging in what looks like vEry friendly conversation with another girl

“yoongi, cut it out, you dweeb!” she giggles before giving his arm a gentle slap (her hand lingers on his arm for a good three!!! seconds) and yoongi raises his hands in defence

???????

who is this stranger??

who is this stranger and why is she touching yoongi like she’s noT a stranger???

and why isn’t yoongi acting like she’s a stranger???

“what?? i’m just saying!!”

he turns his head slightly and the two of you make eye contact yet agaIn

your eyes widen in panic

oh god

well now you definitely can’t ask him to sit with you at lunch

not when he’s talking to a literal godDESS

god!!! look at her!!!!

her hair is so long and silky and she has that whole ‘is she sexy or is she cute’ vibe going on and woW that eyeliner is impeccable

you look like you have raccoon eyes compared to her eye makeup

…you look like a raccoon compared to her

he’s obviously going to sit with her!!!!!!!

mission abort

MISSION ABORT

you immediately swerve and head towards the vending machine

okay

that didn’t go toO badly right

was your swerve smooth?

hopefully it seemed like it was a natural movement to suddenly make a JAGGED turn to the right

you know what

this is a sign

you and yoongi are not supposed to be a thing and that was a sign directly from God himself

you feel your face heating up a little when another realisation hits you

you thought yoongi liked you back and it seems that he doesn’t… and even if he did like you back, you waited too long to do something about it and he’s obviously moved on

suRe, you’ve been going around saying that you’re pretty sure yoongi doesn’t like you back and it’s not a big deal because it’s expected, why would he like me? but you only kept saying that because you wanted it to be wrong

you wanted yoongi to prove you wrong

and he moved on because you were taking too frickin long to decide what you wanted to do with him

…and you didn’t even bring any change with you so you can’t even get a bag of chips to make you feel beTTER

“i… i’m sorry, but what the hell was that?” jimin snorts as soon as you take a seat at the table and you clear your throat before shrugging

“an effort was made… and… the result came out inconclusive! so… it’s whatever.”

jimin leans over to the side a little to peek past you at yoongi who just wrapped an arm around whatever-her-name-is’ shoulders

and then he notices yoongi glancing back a little in your direction

…fascinating.

“y/n…” jimin sighs as he sets his fork down, “yoongi likes you. you know he does. everyone knows he does! you’d have to be blind to noT see how into each other you two are.”

“you’re just saying that because you’re my friend.” you sulk as you slump against your arm

“i’m saying that because it’s true, you idiot.” jimin frowns and reaches over to give the top of your head a pat, “use that big brain of yours and think about it!”

okay fine

you’ll use your stupid big brain to think about stupid yoongi and your stupid crush on him

the other week in class you were pretty bummed out because you had forgotten to bring your snack with you and you were looking forward to it all day (you slathered some strawberry jam on some crackers and made little sandwiches) and after you briefly mentioned it to yoongi (after he asked u ‘what’s a saD girl like u doing in a sad place like this’) he went quiet for a second or two before picking up his backpack and leavinG the lab

and you were very confused because class was literally starting and he just walked out like it was no big deal

you were about to get up and chase after him to bring him back but once the professor started the lecture you were pretty much bolted down to your stool

when he came back ten minutes later (thankfully the professor was playing a video for the class so yoongi was able to sneak in without being noticed) you were very surprised when he plopped a crumpled up wad of napkins(??) in front of you

“thank you for the… garbage?” you whisper as you use the back of your pencil to poke at it

“open it up.” yoongi points to the top of it and- oH okay it’s like a little parcel of some kind

it just looked like garbage to you

you reach over to unwrap the parcel and your brows knit together when you-

oOh!!!!! oh!!!!!! crackers!!!! cracker sandwiches with strawberry jam oozing out the sides!!!!!!

“have i ever told you about how much the lunch ladies love me?” yoongi grins and wiggles his eyebrows before pushing the crackers closer to you “bon appétit, m’lady.”

you perk up a little and jimin looks over at you in interest

wait a second

if yoongi didn’t like you back then he probably wouldn’t have gone out of his way just to get you a couple crackers and jam

what else has he done?

in class he always leans over to doodle on your notebook and even when you tell him to cut it out he never does

but is that flirting?

how about when he compliments your scrunchies or your socks or little things like that?

is that flirting or is that just him being nice???

okay

what about this one

how about when he walks you to class and insists you give him a kiss on the cheek as payment?

you immediately shoot straight up from the table and jimin jumps in surprise

jesus chriSt

he didn’t sign up to sit with a jack-in-the-box today

“yoongi likes me!” you gasp and jimin resists the urge to roll his eyes

“look who finally came to their senses-“

yoongi likes you!!

a lot

like a LOT

and you like yoongi a lot too!!!!

so you have no idea why you’re acting the way that you are

part of it is because he’s being kind of flirty with someone else but the other part of it is…

it’s just that you have no idea why every time he brings up the question of ‘so… what are we?’ you immediately panic and sputter out some lame excuse about how you have some work to catch up on but i’ll catch you later!!

oh god

the smile drops from your face

do you have commitment issues??? is that it??

“is it working? do you think it’s working?” yoongi forces a smile on his face to make it seem like he’s still very interested in what lisa is saying and she peeks over his shoulder before shaking her head

“i think your plan was a failure from the start anD i think we should’ve gone with my plan if you really wanted to make her jealous-“

“i’m not gonna make out with you in front of y/n-“

“well, she’s not even paying attention to us anymore. her back’s facing us.”

yoongi whips around so fast that he nearly gives himself whiplash and his shoulders droop when he realises that lisa’s right

damnit

he really thought his plan was going to work!! he thought it was foolproof!!!

obviously not because here he is

looking like a grade A foOL

“you sure you’re okay?” jimin nudges your arm as the two of you throw out your scraps and wrappers

after your whole ‘yoongi likes me!!!’ moment, you were pretty happy for like 3 seconds and then you started spiralling into a whole self-pity ‘i might have commitment issues’ thing which eventually led you back to ‘yoongi could never like someone like me… no wonder he’s off eating lunch with someone else…’ and jimin was fully ready to rip his hair out

one step forward and a miLLion steps back

anyways

you were pretty quiet for the remainder of lunch which wasn’t a huge surprise because you dO have the tendency to get a little mopey when things don’t go your way (but in your defense, who wouldn’t get mopey??)

like one time when you were assigned the topic of comparing and contrasting influential leaders during the WWI era for a history essay when you were really hoping to be assigned the topic of the impact of propaganda

you were so bummed out that you basically just leaned on jimin for the entire period of lunch without saying anything

and now it looks like it’s happening again!!!

you know what

you can’t go in circles like this for the rest of your life

this time you’re not just being mopey and pitying yourself

this time you think you’re actually going to do something about the issue (juSt like how you should’ve gone to your prof to fight for that propaganda essay)

you feel ridiculous!!

you can’t go on beating yourself up over something that you can kiNd of control!!!

you know that you wanna be with yoongi officially

you know that there’s a mutual attraction between the two of you

and most importantly you want to be able to call him your boyfriend and not just a classmate that you sometimes flirt with and all-the-times fantasise about holding hands with

you’re finally ready to sit him down and tell him you definitely like him and that you definitely want to be with him and you are noT about to let him slip away this easily!!

seeing him with someone else lit a fire under your ass

…and you know exactly how you’re going to handle this.

to say the least

yoongi is.,,.,..,

concerned

very, very concerned

he hasn’t spoken to you in like three days and he’s pretty sure you’re avoiding him

and he knows this because the other day after you came out of class and saw him standing there waiting for you (like he usually does) you immediately diverted your gaze and attempted to hide behind a bunch of people before disappearing down the opposite end of the hallway

and then when he walked into class to go and sit next to you like he always does he was very surprised to see that jimin had reclaimed his spot next to you

…and if those aren’t signs of you avoiding him/being upset with him he doesn’t know what is!!

if anything he thought the whole lisa plan was going to get you all riled up and jealous which was something that he will openly admit to vEry much wanting to see because let’s be real seeing someone get jealous is always a little hot

but instead it seemed to have upset you and possibly hurt your feelings which was the complete opposite of what yoongi wanted and now he doesn’t know what to DO

usually he’s the one that does the avoiding! whenever he gets into little riffs with girls (most of the time they’re upset about him not texting and/or calling back which he admits is his fault and he could’ve handled those situations more maturely but that’s not the point) all he has to do is like smile at them in class and they immediately forgive him because he has a greAt smile

also usually it’s other people who are trying to make him jealous!!! so it’s pretty weird that hE was the one trying to make someone jealous!!!

he doesn’t like the taste of his own medicine

it’s bitter and he can’t get it out of his mouth

he-

yoongi jumps when his phone buzzes in his back pocket

from: nerdzilla [1:58pm] - Yoongi, can you come to lecture hall A in the maple building right now?

huh

okay

it looks like you’re no longer avoiding him which he supposes is a good sign

…but nothing good can ever happen in a lecture hall

“there you are! i was worried you got lost.” you smile lightly as yoongi steps into the lecture hall looking very out of place

“what’s… uh, what’s going on?” yoongi raises a brow as he makes his way down the steps

“take a seat and it’ll all make sense soon.” you gesture for him to sit near the front before turning to make sure everything’s hooked up and ready to go

yoongi lets out a sigh as he plops down in one of the seats

a moment of silence goes by before he decides that he should probably be the first one to speak up and at least trY to smooth things over

but before he even opens his mouth you’ve already dimmed the lights in the auditorium anD attached a mini microphone to your sweater

you clear your throat before stepping forward a little bit

“i’m y/n y/l/n, my student number is 10120200, and today i will be discussing the neurobiology behind the complicated mask of romantic attraction.” you swallow your nerves after introducing the presentation before clicking to the next slide

what in the world

what is happening

yoongi looks around at the empty auditorium before looking back at you

he still doesn’t know if you’re mad or upset or mupset and if this is just how you process your emotions but maybe he’ll just sit back and relax for now

“now, in order to understand brain chemistry, we need to understand the different chemicals that are involved in the process of romantic attraction. there are four hormones that are important when it comes to understanding love - cortisol, dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin. we’ve actually discussed these hormones in class, so if i, say, asked you what cortisol is, you would say…” you trail off and turn to face yoongi and he immediately straightens up

he didn’t think he’d be teSted during whatever the hell this is but okay

you reviewed all of these terms with him for the last quiz so you’d be more than disappointed if he’d already forgotten about them

“if you asked me what cortisol was, i would say…” yoongi narrows his eyes slightly before pursing his lips

why is he sweating all of a sudden

he’s nervous

why does he feel like he’s in cLASS

this ain’t right!!! this was a trick!!!!

“cortisol.” yoongi mumbles as his fingers drum anxiously against his kneecap, “court-isol… courting a mate… courting someone can be stressful- ooh, cortisol is the steroid that is released when we’re stressed!” yoongi claps his hands together and grins widely when you nod proudly before turning back to look at the slide

hAH

he’s still got it

“so, in short - cortisol is a stress hormone, dopamine seeks out pleasure, norepinephrine makes you highly excitable, and serotonin is a mood stabiliser. when you’ve got a crush on someone, your serotonin drops as your cortisol levels increase, which then makes your brain pump out dopamine, which produces norepinephrine.” you turn to look at yoongi to make sure he’s still paying attention and he now looks moRe lost than he was before “do you get it?”

“i… can you repeat that? but in a completely different way? and with different words? significantly easier, simpler words?”

“i mean… i thought i’d already explained it in pretty simple terms-“

“in whAT universe was that simple???”

“okay, what about this- basically, when you’re in the process of falling for someone, all of the hormones that make you anxious and energetic are super duper high while the one that keeps you stable is super duper low.”

“thank you. you should know by now that you have to explain things to me like that.” yoongi snorts before leaning back against the chair and kicking his legs back up and flicking his wrist “alright, you have my permission to carry on.”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to face the screen

“there are approximately twenty commonly-reported thoughts, feelings, and behaviours that are associated with falling in love, but in the interest of time, i’m just going to be covering three.”

yoongi (bless his heart) is still trying to figure out what the point of all of this is but is struggling a little because he’s also trying to focus on this presentation of your at the same time

meanwhile, you’re pretty close to pissing yourself on stage because you’ve never confessed your feelings for anyone before and you hate that you can’t decipher the meaning behind yoongi’s poker face

is he playing along??? is he just letting you go through with this presentation even though he already knows what you’re hinting at???

or is he actually confused and has nO idea what he’s doing here??? does he think you’re wasting his precious time????

“number one: intrusive thinking.” you interrupt your internal ramble as you switch to the next slide, “when we’re in the process of falling for someone, our levels of serotonin drop significantly.” you pause and whip around to face yoongi, "remind me again what serotonin is?”

yoongi’s eyes widen slightly

uh-oh

he’s being put on the spot agaIN??

god

is it too late to drop out of this class?????

“uh… can i get a pass on this one?”

you frown

u literally just said what serotonin was like three seconds ago

he’s so bad at listening!!!! no wonder he needs your help all the time!!!

“serotonin is a mood stabilizer, so it makes you feel…“

“calm!!! and in control!!! and- and stabilized!!” yoongi spRings up from his seat with a raised hand before bouncing up and down

“there we go.” you smile lightly when yoongi gives himself a pat on the back

he’s so cute when he’s proud of himself :-(

“anyways - serotonin stops the triggering of obsessive-compulsive behaviour. however, when the level of dopamine is larger than the level of serotonin, that means you don’t have as much control over your obsessive thoughts and behaviours, which is why when you… have a crush on someone, they’re on your mind all the time.” you clear your throat when you feel a little tickle at the back of your throat

it’s almost like your body is rejecting the idea of u telling yoongi u like him and trying to tell you to sTOP STOP STOP but it’s waaaay too late to stop now

“you find yourself checking your phone all the time to see if they texted you back. when you get an assignment back, your first thought isn’t ‘hey, i did a good job!’ like it usually is, and instead it’s ‘hey, i wonder if they did a good job too!’. they’re the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about before you fall asleep. and it’s… weird, having this person take up so much space in your mind, it’s like… thinking about not thinking about them makes you think about them even more?”

“…thinking about not thinking about them makes you… ah, okay, i understand. got it!” yoongi shoots you a uncharacteristically dorky double thumbs up and you can’t help but snort

“number two: a change in priorities.” you click to the next slide

maybe it’s a good thing that yoongi hasn’t caught on yet

you’re actually starting to enjoy giving this presentation even if it’s not for marks and doesn’t count towards any of your grades whatsoever

“the active hormone in this case would be dopamine. which is…?” you turn to look at yoongi and the smile immediately drops from his face

have you not learned that he is incapable of answering questions on the spot like this???

“dopamine… makes you… feel dope. therefore… dopamine… is… it makes you feel… good…”

okay you’re going to be here all afternoon if you keep picking on yoongi like this

“how about you just…sit back and relax?” you offer yoongi a sheepish smile, “i promise i won’t ask you any more questions.”

yoongi’s shoulders visibly droop and he lets out a breath of relief before leaning back against the seat

thank GOD because he’s really not sure how much more information he can pull out of his ass

“so, dopamine makes you seek out pleasure-“

“which is basically what i said-“

“as i implied earlier, a spike in dopamine is involved with having intrusive thoughts. a change in priorities has a lot to do with this spike, because you’ll try pretty much anything to get to the reward that can bring you pleasure - obviously this reward i’m talking about is the person i’m crushing- i- i mean, the person that you- the person that one has a crush on.” you stammer before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

ooh boy

we’re falling off the rails a little here

yoongi raises a brow

he’s never seen you get so twitchy before

especially not when you’re giving presentations because you literally live laugh loVE to give presentations

last week you showed him a presentation of all the things you ate over the weekend and it was actually surprisingly informative and entertaining

“um… so… right! a change in priorities. for example, even if you hated something like skateboarding - and i’m talking really, reaLLy hated - you might suddenly be super cool with giving it a go!” you shrug before unconsciously brushing your fingers over your scratched up elbows that resulted from yoongi trying to teach you how to skateboard a couple weeks ago

yoongi’s brows knit together in deep thought as the gears click-click-click away in his head

why are you giving this presentation in the first place? what’s the whole purpose of it? why this subject in particular? how come no one else is here with-

yoongi perks up in his seat when it hits him

suddenly every single detail about this peculiar situation rushes over him like a tidal wave

…the neurobiology behind the complicated mask of romantic attraction…

…what is cortisol?? cortisol is a stress hormone that is released when ur courting a mate…

…’hey, i wonder if they did a good job!’ instead of ’hey, i did a good job!’…

…really, really hate skateboarding… suddenly willing to give it a go…

“-and finally, having an intense increase in energy!” yoongi snaps out of his whirlpool of thoughts when you suddenly clap your hands together, “dopamine - which, hopefully you’ll remember increases when you feel desire and arousal for someone - produces norepinephrine, which is the hormone associated with feelings of excessive energy and restlessness!”

you start pacing around on the stage with your hands on your hips

“like, usually you have a pretty good sleep schedule of 9pm to 7am, but suddenly, all because of this person, you suddenly have the ability to stay up for the entire night thinking about him a-and his stupid face and the fact that he has you wrapped around his pinky finger and somEhow you’re still able to survive the next day without crashing and burning!”

a smirk slowly begins to form at yoongi’s lips when he finally processes what exactly is happening

maybe his lisa plan worked after all

you like him

this is you telling him that you like him and you know what he has to give you a little more credit for using your skills to your advantage

look at you and your cute little ‘i love you’ presentation!!!!

adorable!!!!

just as he’s about to get up and interrupt your vEry passionate rant about how important it is to get a solid eight hours of sleep a night, the projector suddenly glitches and the screen goes black

“one night, i only got like three hours of sleep but what i’m tryINg to say is that-“ your neck nearly snaps from how quickly your head whips around when the screen flickers to black

oh shooT

out of all the times for the damn projector to glitch!!!!!

just as you were about to reach your conclusion!!!!!

fRICK

“sorry, give me a second.” you hold a finger up before jogging over to the little desk where your laptop is

this is why you hate all this bluetooth apple TV nonsense

the projectors always disconnect at the worst times

it’s just not a reliable way to present something!!

it takes a couple seconds for the projector to catch up to your laptop but when you see the concluding slide pop up on the screen you let out a sigh of relief

maybe you should stop talking about your sleep schedule and just jump straight into the conclusion because you honestly don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore

see!!!! look what yoongi’s done to you!!!!!

you’re usually very good at improvising presentations and now you’re just shooting blanks!!!

whatever

just present your danG conclusion and get this over with u dummy

“in conclusion, the neurobiological process behind romantic attraction is quite evident wh- oh!”

the moment you whip around you don’t even get a chance to be surprised at the fact that yoongi is standing right behind you because the next thing you know he’s pulling you in for a kiss

as soon as his lips press against yours, your mind immediately goes blank and all you can hear is pure white noise (which you’re pretty sure is just your laptop fan whirring because it’s about to run out of battery)

yoongi reaches up to take your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger before tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss when your hands suddenly grip at his hoodie

at first he wasn’t just going to throw himself at you like this but honestly you guys have played this game for far too long

and he’s wanted to kiss u for so long

unsurprisingly, you’re the first one who pulls away (yoongi would 110% spend the rest of the day making out with you on stage if it were up to him) and yoongi swipes his tongue over his bottom lip when he sees how flushed your cheeks have gotten and how swollen your lips are

all that from a little bit of kissing?

…goD that’s so frickin cute

“you-“ your voice cracks slightly and he can’t help but grin because it hits him that the only thing that can make you stutter like this is hiM- “i wasn’t- i wasn’t done with- with my conclusion.” you whisper

wha-

huh

okay

out of all the responses in the world he definitely wasn’t expecting that

well, that’s not true

as he’s mentioned before, you are very passionate about your presentations so maybe he should’ve expected this

“oh! uh, yeah, i’m sorry-“ yoongi quickly takes a step back and raises his hands in defence “sorry. what were you saying?”

you turn away so that your back faces yoongi and you mouth a silent ‘oH MY GOD-‘ to yourself

oh my god

oh my GOD!!!!!

oh myg od????

omg

like u literally don’t know what else to say besides oh my god

no thoughts head empty

“in conclusion, the neurobiological process behind romantic attraction is quite evident when i’m talking about the way that i feel… about… well, about you.” you spin back around to face yoongi and feel your heart skip a beat when he smiles widely before bursting into laughter

what the-

why is he laughing??????

that was supposed to be a sweet moment????

that was supposed to be the part in the movie where the audience goes ‘awww’!!!!!!

so what the heLL is he hee-hawing aboUT

“i’m sorry, i just-“ yoongi covers a hand over his mouth and lets out a snort, “i cannot believe how much i like you-“

“oh, well, great! that makes me feel sO good about myself-“ you feel your face grow red as you throw your hands up in the air

“no, no, not like that! i-“ yoongi wipes a tear from his eye as he makes his way towards you, “you… you’re a dork, y/n y/l/n. you know that?”

“…every time you open your mouth to speak i begin to like you less and less-“

“you’re the biggest dork on this planet and i am so, utterly, obsessed with you.”

…to be honest that was like an insult and a compliment wrapped into one so you’re not quite sure how to interpret it buT-

“so you… like me back?” your stomach flutters when yoongi places his hands on your waist to pull you in

“of course i like you back!” he reaches up to flick your forehead and you immediately let out a yelp, “god, i thought you were supposed to the smarter one out of the two of us-!“

he pauses to give u a little kiss on your forehead because he might have flicked u harder than intended

“and can i just say… i love it when you talk nerdy to me.”

“oh, god, get awaY from me-“ you immediately let out a groan before rolling your eyes

he’s so annOYING

“aw, come on! what’s the matter?” yoongi laughs when you shove him off and turn away from him “i’m hot for teacher-“ he growls playfully as he grabs your hips from behind before pulling you back in towards him

“you are the absolute worsT-“ you whine as you feel your back bump against his front

his arms slink around your waist as he props his chin up on your shoulder “i don’t know about you but mY serotonin levels are like, bouncing off the walls right now-“

“that doesn’t even make any sense, yoongi! it’s like you weren’t even paying attention to anything i was saying at aLL-“

“sure i was! i paid enough attention to know about how much you loooOooOOVe mE-“

and for the record

yoongi will be more than happy to attend any of your future presentations if it means he gets to kiss you at the end of each one

:-)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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infinitejapanication · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Arashi,

The day I dreaded is here. It’s January 1st 2021 and you’re now gone into your indefinite hiatus.

Those (almost) two years passed by so quickly since you announced your hiatus. I still remember vividly when you announced it, as if it was yesterday. I remember thinking at that time that if that’s what you want and that’s what make you happy, then we should let you go and I just needed time to process this. Yet, here I am, January 1st 2021 and even after all this time, I guess I’ll still need a little more time to adjust my life as you won’t be here as 5 from now on. The thing that makes it so hard I guess is that during those almost 2 years before today, you kept giving us content, thanking us, you once again thought of us, your fans, more than anything else. From January 27th 2019 till yesterday, you did your best and gave us so many things, just like you did during all those years, even more. And that’s why it’s still so hard now to say good bye today, even though I knew since January 2019 that you were going on indefinite hiatus.

I remember thinking, many times during those last years with you, “but how am I gonna do without them? How will it be?” And to be honest, till today, I still don’t have the answer to those questions. I guess it will come as time passes.

Because yes, you’ve always been there. You’ve always been a part of my life. I discovered ARASHI in 2007, when I was 12. It’s now the year 2021 and I’m 25. I grew up with you, with your presence everywhere, even if we were so far apart. Everyday, ARASHI was there, through pictures I found on the internet or music I was listening to, articles on the blogs that I was reading at that time, through tv shows and DVD concerts. So, as my environment was always filled with ARASHI, I still don’t know how it will be without you in it. I mean, without some new contents of you as 5, since of course, I still have many things to look back to, thanks to all the things you gave us.

Without really realising it, ARASHI quickly became my safe place, a bubble where I could escape whenever I feel like it. Every time I felt down, or when I felt like escaping reality, I was watching one of your show or watching one of your concert and I could forget for a while my worries. Every time, you 5 were able to put a smile on my face, to make me laugh, to make me less worried and to help me overcome what I was going through. You were always the ones who could make me smile no matter what, even in my most stressful years. You were always there, in the happy moments as in the stressful moments and tough moments.

Thinking of ARASHI makes me think of my happiest moments, of a time when I was still smiling no matter what. Seeing ARASHI gives me constant warmth, comfort and happiness. And it always will. You give me countless of emotions and I’m so grateful for that.

Unfortunately sometimes, life got in the way and I couldn’t catch up on everything you were releasing etc. And at that time, way before you announce your hiatus, I was sometimes thinking that it’s alright if I can’t catch up on everything because there will always be new content. Indeed, it was so normal for me to see you releasing a new album, to see concert reports, to see photoshoots and magazines interviews. I almost took all of this for granted while I really shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.

But ARASHI! I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you for everything you’ve done until now. Thank you for all this hard work during all these years. Thank you for creating a safe place, a beautiful world where we can escape whenever we need to and where we learnt that no matter what hardships we go through, we’re not alone and we should never give up.

Thanks to you, I’ve surpassed myself. I believed in myself. I started learning Japanese thanks to you and you’re still the reason why I still learn Japanese today.

Thanks to you, I met amazing people from all over the world and I made friends that are so far away yet it feels like they’re just right besides me. I even met some of them in real life. Thanks to you, I made lifetime friendships.

Thanks to you, I was able to make tons and tons of memories with those friends, while we were watching your concerts, tour tv shows and stuff. Thanks to you, I have memories that I will hold preciously forever.

Thank you ARASHI.

Ohno, thank you for all the sacrifices you made all those years. Thank you for all the talent you shared with us. Thank you for always listening carefully to the other members’ opinions and putting them first before your own opinion. Thank you for sticking around even when you didn’t feel like it anymore. The best leader ARASHI could have. Thank you for everything. Go enjoy your vacations and I can’t wait to hear about them when you’re back. I’ll wait for you. 🎣⛵️✨

Sho, thank you for being ARASHI’s shadow leader. Thank you for protecting ARASHI with all your might. For guiding ARASHI and the fans. For making us feel secure to be an ARASHI fan and telling us that there’s no “perfect fan”. Thank you for always reading the atmosphere and acting serious when it was needed but also making us laugh when you knew it was needed too. Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to hear more from your journalism work. I’ll be watching. 🗞📺✨

Aiba, thank you for all those smiles and all those positive emotions you gave us throughout those years even when it was the hardest for you. Thank you for always sharing this warm smile with us. You’re the reason of many smiles I had during all those years and the same goes to lots of fans. Thank you for teaching us that even when something terrible happens, we shouldn’t give up. Thank you for always showing your emotions, for being someone with such a big heart. Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to see your variety shows. I’ll be watching and smiling with you. 🐻🐒💚✨

Nino, thank you for always speaking your mind and for not being afraid to be totally honest with you. Thank you for always taking care of the members through your small actions and for protecting them. Thank you for teaching us that we should just be ourselves, that we can cry because it’s okay to show our true emotions sometimes. Thank you for being yourself and for being fearless. That’s what makes you unique. Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to see more of your acting work. I’ll be watching and be amazed by your acting skills again. 🎬📺✨

Jun, I don’t even know how to start. You’re the reason I’m here and what I am today. Thank you for always loving ARASHI more than anyone. Thank you for always thinking of ARASHI first, for doing everything you did for ARASHI and putting ARASHI before your own life. Thank you for always thinking of ARASHI more than anyone. Thank you for propping ARASHI up. Thank you for always exceeding our expectations every time, year by year. Thank you for thinking of the fans more than anyone and for always doing it. Thank you for all your hard work, those countless nights when you didn’t get enough sleep, for every single sacrifice you did during all those years just so ARASHI’s concerts can be what they are today. Thank you for always thinking of every single detail. You’re the one who taught me what true hard work and dedication are, the one who taught me that it's okay to have weaknesses and that we should also always try to push our own limits. You’re the one who taught me that we should never give up on our dreams. Thank you for being such an inspiration since all this time. Thanks to you, I had the courage to finally give up the studies I didn’t like for studying something I love. I can’t even thank you enough for everything you did. I love you so much. Please enjoy your break, be selfish and live your life the way you want. I’ll be waiting for you to come back and I’ll still be amazed by what you do and the person you are. 🎥🎆💜✨

Thank you ARASHI for everything.

It’s time for you to be selfish for once and think of you first, instead of your fans.

Go enjoy your break, go enjoy life. 🎈✨

I hope this hiatus will be the opportunity for you to discover so much more about life, that it will give you tons and tons of opportunities, that it will make you the happiest.

I’ll hold all those precious memories and grow up thanks to them so I can be a better version of myself when we’ll see you as 5 again.

Whether it takes 5 years or 20 years, I’ll be waiting. We’ll all be waiting.

I love you.

BE HAPPY, ARASHI. 🪁💙❤️💚💛💜✨

#arashi #ohno satoshi #sakurai sho #aiba masaki #ninomiya kazunari #matumoto jun #my loves #my home #thank you #i love you

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rhodesmystery · 6 years ago

Text

the first foot forward

I’d always meant to write something, of when Natasha got her injuries. Guess madly writing something at 2am is the way I’m gonna do this. Happens sometime mid ‘93. Charlie POV. I’ll do a part two for this as well.

When Charlie gets a shout of his name over the roar of the resident dragons, he thought he was hearing things. Truly, as it was almost unheard of to go anywhere near the nursery, and not find him. So, he assumes that him being called was due to a newer member of their team unaware of his usual dwellings, and promptly ignored it.

Not until his name was repeated another four times, does Charlie finally turn. Handing off the young Welsh Green off to a nearby witch, he gets up. Can hear the voices, imagines the hands pointing. Feet carry him to the nearby fence, still firmly locked and charmed. Well, no one had forced their way in at least.

Wand ready to undo a few precautionary charms, he doesn’t have to. Not when the gate unlocks from the other side, opening a door to the rest of the sanctuary. Charlie goes to grumble, something about not watching for any potential escapee younglings, especially considering that three hatchlings went walkabout the other week, when he stops. Voice catching in his throat, at the sight of Bill.

Bill, tall and normally quite bright, with red rimmed eyes and lank hair, sallow skin. Like something had sucked all the happiness out of him. Thanking the wizard, Harrington, beside him, Bill all but pulls Charlie out of the nursery. “We need to talk,” he says, firmly, without giving Charlie any room to argue.

“We’ll go to mine.”

The walk to Charlie’s place was fearfully quiet, only filling his head with countless worries. Was it mum? Dad? he thinks, unsure what he would do. What he should think. Ginny? No, not Ginny, not again. When Ron had regaled the family with what had conspired in his second year of schooling, Charlie had been over in a flash to the Burrow, equal parts preventing his parents from not sending his siblings to school once more, but also for Ginny. All out of sorts, smile never quite reaching her eyes again. Charlie’s hands shake, as he turns the knob to his place.

What constituted as his place of residence was one of the smaller housings, not too far from the others. Single roomed, as he had done his time in the dormitories. Filled with papers and photos, all moving around. Perhaps it helped that he had moved up in the relative ranks in the sanctuary, to warrant his own place. He goes to get a mug, trying to think of something to say to Bill, without letting his own fears show. At this point, Charlie realises that he probably should invest in a clock much like the one home. That he shouldn’t have run so far away.

“Bill—”

“It’s not—it’s not mum. Or dad. Or Percy or Fred.” Bill’s voice is tight when he responds, but runs through their siblings, their parents. Several aunts and uncles and a cousin or two Charlie couldn’t say he’d heard of. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that relief washed over him.

“Good, good, okay.” Leaning against the counter now, fingers pressing into the metal of the sink. Staring at the drain, mug forgotten. That was, that was okay. Wasn’t it? Nothing had happened (yet). Barely into his third year, Ron was. And Charlie had read all the papers and heard all the rumours. Even when they visited Bill over the summer, the air was tense, worries exchanged over moving photos.

At that thought, Charlie looks to his left, out the corner of his eye. A photo sat, never once getting dusty, fondly moved about, with Charlie never noticing until too late. He smiles, when he watches the couple spin around, slowly, deliberately, never once taking their eyes off each other. Charlie watches as even, years on, the dress Natasha wore glittered, hair perfect, lips painted, eyes only on him. And he knew exactly how he looked at her.

Oh.

Pushing himself up, faster than he should’ve, Charlie turns on Bill. Oh, oh no, oh no ohnoohno.

But Bill, despite looking like he hadn’t slept in several days, was faster. Thoughts not muddled with the past and the present. “St Mungo’s.”

Catches Charlie off guard, as he lets out a rough “what?”

“That’s where she is.” Bill clears his throat, runs a hand over his face. “She’s… she’s alive. Stable. Something got to her, and they found her in time.”

“Why am I hearing this all now?” Control, he tries to tell himself, control. Don’t get too emotional, don’t yell. Forming fists by his side, Charlie can feel his nails dig in a little too hard. “Why didn’t anyone send me an owl?”

“She’s only been there for a few days or so—” And Charlie knows that Bill was only trying to calm him down, he knows. But his vision was closing, dangerously so, where he could only see thinly ahead. “Charlie.” He hears Bill say his name, from a little too far away. “She’s fine. Natasha’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

Swallowing thickly, Charlie doesn’t rub his eyes, unclench his fists. Just continues to stare at the space on the wall. Another photo. Natasha, again. Smiling at him, brightly, from under a sun hat. This time last year, in Greece, where they had made a promise to each other. “What was it?”

“Huh?”

“That attacked her. What was it?”

Bill shakes his head, Charlie can see him do it out the corner of his eye. “No one knows for the moment. Nat’s not awake yet, and when she was found…” Trailing off, Bill shuffles. Arms crossed over his chest, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I came here to take you with me. I didn’t think you should hear this in a letter.”

Okay. Okay, okay. Charlie can hear himself speaking, out loud. To thin air. Focuses on relaxing his hands, on keeping his head on straight. “When do we leave?” One foot forward in front of the other, towards his room. Everything was mechanical, precise. Packing a bag shouldn’t have been like this, where he just blindly threw what he could think of in there. Somewhere, he was sure, Natasha was making fun of him.

“Shouldn’t you tell someone that you’re leaving?”

Shouldering his bag, Charlie grabs his toothbrush from the bathroom. Don’t look in the mirror, don’t, don’t want to see my face. “I’m due for time off.” The only answer Charlie can think of, as he avoids looking at the mirror, the window. Shuts the cupboards with a little too much force. What did he need? He didn’t know.

Bill says something. Maybe it was just him agreeing, but he still hadn’t moved from his spot in the middle of Charlie’s living area, out of place. Unsure of where to look, as Charlie could see that every time Bill thought he had settled on a spot, he grimaced, moved on. Too many reminders, around the place. Her scarf hanging on the coat rack, her favourite kind of tea by the pot. Charlie was almost thankful Bill hadn’t followed him into his room, as he wouldn’t have liked seeing the pile of laundry in the corner, Natasha’s idea of where to store clean clothes for later, when she had another visit, completely unannounced.

When they walk out, they didn’t talk. Charlie couldn’t find the words, even if he wanted to. Until, he realises, they would take some time to get there. “How did you get here?” does he finally ask, as Bill had begun to lead the way.

“Portkey. Can’t Apparate that far.” Short, clipped answer, but enough. Charlie doesn’t press it any further, doesn’t feel a need to know the ins and outs. Just trusts when Bill offers his hand, reaching for the shoe at the edge of the sanctuary.

He doesn’t look back. Knows that he’d be in a bit of trouble, for leaving the way he did. No, he wasn’t wrong, about due for time off. Only had two weeks off last year, spent with Natasha far away. Before that, next to nothing. Sure, Egypt was this year, but he’d been practically thrown out by his superiors for working ‘too much, too hard’. Charlie closes his eyes, as the world swirls around him, pulling him this way and that. Man, he hated travelling by Portkey.

London doesn’t look familiar, but in saying that, Charlie had never spent much time there anyway. Bill seems in his element, as they wind through crowds, out of the alley they’d arrived in. Passed off the Portkey to a ministry official, all nods and shaking hands, before then. They say something, perhaps about Natasha, that’s just white noise for Charlie. Focuses on his feet, making sure he doesn’t trip, as they walk on. Only once had he been to St Mungo’s, to visit another fellow dragonologist when discussing what a potential injury might have been. Charlie had been in his second year at the sanctuary, already stepping up.

When he runs up the back of Bill, does he realise they’d arrived at the entry. Red bricked and advertising under renovations. Charlie squints up at the signs, not taking in how Bill says why they had arrived. Everything was just fading out, even as they step through the window. Bill must’ve noticed, surely, with how he’s gripping Charlie’s upper arm now.

Once safely through, does Bill shake Charlie a little. “Hey, you in there?”

Charlie blinks once, twice. “Yeah, what?”

He can’t break down Bill’s expression, not really. Too many layers, far too much moving, searching. “Listen to me: she’ll be fine.”

“I know, you said that already.” Charlie couldn’t help the way he sounded childish, as if he should stick his lower lip out too. “It’s why you brought me here, wasn’t it?”

Bill rolls his eyes, purses his lips. “I brought you here as her partner — boyfriend, husband, whatever — because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

It’s like a lot of the air suddenly leaves the room, only enough allowing for the damn near squeak of “what?” leaving Charlie once again. He should’ve been counting just how many times he could ask that one worded question this day alone.

“They’re restricting visitors, just because of… you’ll see, when you see her—”

Charlie drops his voice to a whisper, but still unable to stop the pitch when he insists “we’re not married, Bill!” Just the thought seemed to knock something out of Charlie. He didn’t know what it was. Would file that away to fret about later.

From the look Bill was giving him, Charlie could almost guess his next few words. “She told me about Greece.”

Letting out a groan, Charlie hangs his head. His cheeks burned, just a little. “Nat needs to stop telling you everything.” And that was the truth. Granted, he knew she was more than capable of keeping secrets, but if Charlie had a sickle for every time Bill and Natasha whispered, he’d be able to afford… well, maybe a ring.

He doesn’t think about that.

Finally, a witch appear at their elbows, looking up at them both with a bright smile. Charlie was always just a fraction concerned about how the healers here maintained such a positive attitude in the face of everything.

Bill clears his throat, saving the way Charlie just seemed to stare at the smiling witch, as they’re directed towards the reception desk. “We’re here to see Natasha Rhodes. Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley,” he says, with a motion towards Charlie, as if to distinguish between themselves. “I was here earlier, but left to get Natasha’s… husband.”

Charlie was sure he turned pink, from the look Bill gave him to cut that out, but the receptionist politely didn’t seem to notice. “You’re aware that visitors have been restricted for the moment?”

“Yeah, but uh, Joutley suggested I get my brother down here.” Something else was exchanged, about Natasha’s immediate family being present. Minding gifts, manners, no loud noises.

The receptionist hums, flicking through files, after giving her little speech. Finding something she was after. With another blinding smile, does she hold out her hand towards the stairs. “First floor, Dai Llewellyn ward.”

Charlie knew that ward. “Serious bite?” he asks, once they were heading up the stairs. That could mean several things.

Perhaps Bill could see him spiralling, and answers before he lost his footing. “Honestly, they don’t know, and stuck her in the most appropriate ward, I guess. You’ll see.”

“You keep saying that.”

With a shrug, Bill takes Charlie through to the ward, pushing on the door. It hadn’t changed from the time Charlie had been here, and distinctly remembered he was by the bed, towards the far left. But now, judging by the small crowd gathering around the bed situated in the middle of the right row, Charlie knew this time was different.

There were plenty of faces Charlie didn’t recognise, some barely giving him a glance before turning back to where Natasha lay. Sure, Natasha had pointed some out, in their shared time. Charlie recognised Aleksander Selwyn, giving him a firm handshake upon the look he received back. Short exchange of pleasantries, before he noticed Natasha’s mother.

Lyra.

Charlie had met Natasha’s mother several times, but each time he was still just a fraction dumbstruck by how startling alike they looked. Of course he knew all the differences, the shape of their noses, the curves of their jaws, the colour of their eyes. Lyra was sharper than Natasha, too, in the way she always seemed to hold a critical eye. Natasha had lamented once, long ago, that her mother was like that because of America, of trying to fit in. Always finding something to complain about, be it her hair or her piercings or her grades or the people she liked. (And Charlie remembers, with some sort of peace, that he had kissed Natasha, that night, cutting off her little tirade)

Beside Lyra was no doubt Natasha’s father, Richard, or something like that. The Americans called him ‘Dick’. Even fewer times had Charlie had been introduced to the man, but in the photos he had been shown, he was tall, proud. Natasha might’ve looked like her mother at certain angles, but Charlie knew that she was her father’s daughter, through and through. Perhaps, what made the knot in his stomach grow, was seeing how the normally upright man was beside Natasha’s bed, head in hands, shaking as he sobbed silently.

“Oh, Charles, I didn't see you there, dear.”

Lyra spots him, and Charlie works his way around Natasha's family to give an awkward hug. “Sorry, I just arrived.” Even his words weren’t coming out quite right. He was looking anywhere other than the bed.

“Yes, William said he was going to get you. Thank you for coming… Natasha, she—she’s always been fond of you.” Charlie doesn’t think, that maybe her mother didn’t know the real ins and outs of their longterm relationship. If he could call it that.

“I—I. Yeah.” No, he didn’t know what to say. Not with his arms crossed over his chest, finally allowing his gaze to start to travel up the bed. Lyra smiles at him, in the annoyingly knowing way that Natasha did, when she worked something out. Maybe she did know, after all.

But Charlie finds he couldn’t focus on the similarities between mother and daughter, when he finds himself staring at Natasha’s face. Bruised, swollen. Left side of her face, along the curve of her jaw, reaching towards her ear, was a set of vicious marks, that disappeared under her gown when he let his gaze drop. If Charlie didn’t know any better, he would’ve simply said burns. But a little voice in the back of his head reminded him this was a ward for dangerous bites, and that made him run just a fraction colder.

“Do they… know anything? When did they find her?”

Charlie was sure he was just asking the same questions that Lyra had been answering for days, but she answers with a strong voice. “At this point, they're not sure. They believe it was a creature, but Natasha was found a little far from the grounds in the—in the snow.” A slight hiccup, that Charlie politely ignores. “She was at Durmstrang to break curses, so she might’ve released something.”

They both knew that Natasha wasn’t like that, not anymore. Lyra’s tone told him so too. “Why isn’t she at a hospital in Northern Europe?” Whilst the actual position of Durmstang wasn’t told to him, Charlie did have a relatively rough idea. It only occurred to him then, that they had transported her back to Britain.

Lyra sighs a little, the expected tiredness creeping in to her voice. “She was up there for a week, before they made the decision to move her. Apparently the facilities here are better.”

Whilst he knew he couldn’t speculate, but his eyes climb up to the dingy roof, the series of bright baubles being the only light. Better facilities? What a joke.

For one whole moment, they stand there, watching as Natasha’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. Charlie assumed they had induced sleep, as he couldn’t remember a time she slept that soundly. Maybe he took a step forward, or sighed in some way, but Lyra pats his hand, reaches for her husband. “We’ll give you two a moment.”

Richard crumbles in his wife’s arms, and the few members of their family follow, until the room was practically empty. Only then does Charlie realise Bill hadn’t left, not yet. He didn’t know what to do next, suddenly aware of his hands shaking, of his vision blurring. Bill takes a seat next to Natasha’s bed, kicks his leg up to rest ankle on knee. “Sit, before you fall over.”

Nodding, Charlie takes what was Richard’s now empty seat. Natasha’s right, where there was no apparent damage. Charlie’s hand wavers, just a little, just a lot, as he reaches for Natasha’s hand. Wasn’t sure if it was allowed, and quite frankly didn’t care at that point, as he holds her hand in both of his.

He had never noticed how small her hands were, until that moment.

Bill leans back in his chair, eyes closing. Giving Charlie some privacy? He takes a moment to study his brother, the dark rings, the droopy shoulders. Whilst Bill held it together for administrative stuff, Charlie knew he was tired. Wound up. Arms still folded over his chest, head leaning back. Not a comfortable position to sleep in, not at all, but within a few minutes Charlie can hear the soft snores.

Taking that as the final word from Bill, Charlie looks back at Natasha. Sees the bruises, the scrapes. Thinks of how many others times she’d looked like this, grin on her face, bloody lip and claiming victory. This time was different. She was tiny, broken. And Charlie didn’t want to think like that, not really, not at all.

He wants to say ‘I should’ve been there’, but that was stupid. He couldn’t have been. He wouldn’t have been. Charlie was in Romania, and Natasha was somewhere far north, and that’s how they had been for a while now. He remembers Bill’s comment about Apparition, not being able to go that far. And he remembers how he failed his test, ending up further than he should’ve been.

Charlie laughs at that, to himself, despite it all. Squeezes Natasha’s fingers, as he remembers how merciless she had been in her teasing. What he wouldn’t give to go back, do it all over again. Do it right. Where they’d actually talk, stop making promises, stop saying sorry. Maybe not cutting out the making out in the Quidditch locker rooms, but definitely all the other bits. The awkwardness and the tears and the cold shoulders.

With his eyes only on Natasha’s face, searching for some sign of her, underneath all the pain, does Charlie bring her hand closer to his lips. Presses a firm kiss, to each of her knuckles. Holds her there, eyes closed, breathing short. As Charlie lets go, finally, thick tears escaping the corners of his eyes, he hears the hitch in her breath, the quiet noises of discomfort. What he wouldn’t give.

#hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #jacob's sibling #harry potter #hphm #*my fic #*natasha #*signed sealed delivered #[jojo poses]

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sapphyrelily · 8 years ago

Text

Three - Never Grow Up

I return from the dead after 2 months with a lousy chapter in tow, bc I lost my original idea sigh

The buzzing from his phone is getting annoying, and he contemplates turning the vibrate off so he can study in peace. He twists to regard the device on his bed, the screen lighting up with yet another incoming message.

He sighs and picks up the phone.

[Kenjirou]: This was a bad idea

[Kenjirou]: Why did I let Futakuchi talk me into this

[Kenjirou]: Right cos im stupid

[Kenjirou]: Taichi save me

[Kenjirou]: We’re in the house

[Kenjirou]: This guy must be hella rich

[Kenjirou]: Holy shit this is Akaashi’s house

[Kenjirou]: I thought Akaashi was supposed to be all goody two shoes

[Kenjirou]: apparently mot

[Kenjirou]: thk god kuroo isnt here

[Kenjirou]: ohmygod its oikawa-san

[Kenjirou]: and his ace whatshisname

[Kenjirou]: iwa-chan? Tht doesn’t sound liek a name

[Kenjirou]: Right its iwaizumi

[Kenjirou]: hes hot save me

[Kenjirou]: taichiiii answr me

Kawanishi sighs and types a reply.

[Taichi]: r u drunk

[Kenjirou]: YOU FINALLY REPLIED

[Taichi]: answer the question

[Kenjirou]: oooooh proper spellinh, scarryyyy

[Taichi]: Kenjirou.

[Kenjirou]: maybe idk

[Kenjirou]: but iwaizumisan is jow

[Kenjirou]: hot

[Kenjirou]: im gonna talk to hik

[Taichi]: be safe

Kawanishi tosses his phone onto his pillow and picks up his textbook. Shirabu’s drunk self can’t do too much damage, he reckons. He can always check back after he finishes this chapter.

[Kenjirou]: taichi stop me

[Kenjirou]: hes so cute hwlp

[Kenjirou]: ah no he left

[Kenjirou]: I shld go chase him

[Kenjirou]: ohno the other seijou boys r hwre

[Kenjirou]: the pink one is hogging him

[Kenjirou]: I need to get him back

[Kenjirou]: oh good pinky left

[Kenjirou]: no oikawa-sam in aight

[Kenjirou]: ure nog here so I’m gonna do bad things

[Kenjirou]: HE SAID HELL WALK ME BACK

[Kenjirou]: SCORE

[Kenjirou]: wait till semi-san heres

[Kenjirou]: HE PATTED MW ON THE BACK WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

[Kenjirou]: AAAHHHHH

[Kenjirou]: semi-sans in my bed

[Kenjirou]: oh kenmaz in his

[Kenjirou]: eh whatever

[Kenjirou]: hes cute ill pretend hes iwaizumi-san

[Kenjirou]: nigghtttt

Kawanishi blinks at his screen and rereads the messages, squinting at the font as if it will change the contents of the messages. It doesn’t, so he groans and throws his phone back on the bed.

Goddamnit, Kenjirou.

x.x.x.x.x

“Kenjirou.”

No response.

“Kenjirou.”

“Mmphrgh.”

“Get up and drink some water.”

“No.”

“Get up, you sick pig.”

“No. Lemme sleep.”

“Do you want me to get Semi-san?”

The covers are pulled down a little, exposing an eye lined with deep bags. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’ll get Tendou-san too.”

“Goddamnit, Taichi.”

“Thank me later.”

He sighs and closes his textbook, looking at the time.

Oh. He studied through the night. That hasn’t happened in a while.

He groans as he stretches out his legs, reaching for his phone. No new messages, but he opens the application anyway, composing a new one and sending it off.

He may not be able to keep his best friend out of trouble, but he knows who can.

x.x.x.x.x

[Taichi]: panadol n h2o

[Semi]: What

[Taichi]: kenjirou

[Semi]: Sigh. Thanks Taichi

[Taichi]: punch him 4 me

[Semi]: Kay

Semi tucks his phone into his back pocket, picking the finished bentos up and heading back to his room. Once inside, he digs in his bag for his small medicine stash, cutting off two tabs of panadol to place on Shirabu’s side table.

The sky is getting brighter, but he decides to leave his roommate be until he refills their water bottles.

In hindsight, that was a bad idea.

“Shirabu.”

“G’way.” The brunet mumbles incoherently and tugs the blanket over his head. A few pokes to his back earns him nothing but some wiggling, so he sighs and sits beside him.

[Semi]: How well does he hold his liquor

[Taichi]: lightweight

[Semi]: K bad question. How much did he drink

[Taichi]: enuf to b angry if u wake him

[Semi]: gdi

Semi sighs and grips the edge of the blanket. “Shirabu, you have two seconds before I rip this off.”

No response.

He tears the blanket off, taking it to the other bed to fold, ignoring the indignant whine behind him.

“Lemme sleep– Oww.”

“Drink the water and take the panadol. You’re getting to class today, whether you like it or not.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re welcome, because that’s a lab you have in an hour.”

He hears a panicked curse followed by a pained groan, and shakes his head at the sound of pattering footsteps and muffled banging disappearing down the hallway. Setting the folded blanket on the correct bed, he turns to Shirabu’s closet and starts pulling out a lab-appropriate outfit, then packs his bag and places it next to his shoes.

[Semi]: He didnt seem very angry

[Taichi]: hes late 4 class

[Taichi]: d anger will b bck

[Semi]: Thanks for the heads up?

[Taichi]: ur welcome

[Taichi]: ull need it

He’s about to head out when an angry maelstrom crashes past him, diving about the room in a flurry before setting upon the things already laid out for him. Semi would love to stay and watch – Shirabu gets stuck in his T-shirt for a solid minute, how is that even possible – but he knows better than to take Kawanishi's advice lightly, so he clicks the door shut behind him just as an infuriated yell is birthed.

He sneaks off with a snicker, messaging Futakuchi to beware the monster in class.

He gets an extremely garbled reply, and sighs heavily.

Reckless teenagers.

x.x.x.x.x

“Taichi.”

It’s a hiss, a panicked call, and he peers blearily out of his blanket nest to raise an eyebrow.

“Come help me pick an outfit.”

“Why.” He thinks he mumbles it – he isn’t sure, there are just too many blankets – but Shirabu whines and drops onto the bed anyway.

“Semi-san asked me to help distract Ushijima-san while they’re out.”

“And what’re you going to do? Dress like a stripper?”

He doesn’t even mind the smack to his leg – the blankets absorb the impact – but he does mind his roommate lying across his stomach, because he can’t breathe.

“Kenjirou– Get off–”

“I need help,” Shirabu whines. “They’ll be going into town, and I need to keep Ushijima-san occupied while Semi-san and Tendou-san find him a gift.”

“And– This is– Important– Why?” He wheezes, trying to dislodge the dead weight, but Shirabu is surprisingly heavy.

“Because what if I don’t know what to say? What am I supposed to talk about? We’re going to be by ourselves, this is the opportunity of a lifetime–”

“You– See– Him– At– Practice– Everyday.”

“I don’t need to hold a conversation during practice!”

Kawanishi finally succeeds in shoving Shirabu off his diaphragm, and wheezes for a minute. When he finally regains his breath, his roommate is seated on his legs, bemoaning his predicament.

He sits up and pulls his legs back, dislodging Shirabu and sending him sprawling, but he can’t care less. “Just wear whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re so unhelpful.”

“Ushijima-san doesn’t care about appearances,” he tells him. “But think about it this way – anything you wear would definitely be better than what Semi-san is wearing.”

“Not if Tendou-san is picking it.”

“Well, true, but how often does that happen?”

He’s met with silence, and hides his small smile in the blankets.

“Okay, fine, I’ll just wear jeans and whatever.”

“As long as you’re wearing clothes,” Kawanishi drawls, promptly flopping back and hiding himself in the blankets.

“I’m not an exhibitionist or a nudist, of course I’ll wear clothes.”

Kawanishi doesn’t bother to reply him.

x.x.x.x.x

“Shirabu-kun.”

He turns around slowly – after too many near-vomiting experiences that day, he has resigned himself to the vertigo – looking up into a pair of familiar green eyes. “Iwaizumi-san.”

Iwaizumi looks kind of awkward, but he holds out a familiar-looking jacket – his, he realises belatedly.

“Thanks for your jacket last night. It was a nice gesture,” he says, a crooked smile lifting a corner of his mouth. Shirabu takes the jacket from him – no wonder he couldn’t find it – and returns his smile sheepishly.

“No problem. Sorry for the trouble yesterday,” he mumbles.

“It was no trouble at all. I’d be more worried if you didn’t get back safely.”

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters. “But thank you. I don’t remember anything about last night.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Nothing at all?”

“I remember seeing the other Seijou boys in your year, but that’s about it. Everything after that is gone.” He tries not to blush – he is above blushing like a schoolgirl, damnit – but allows an embarrassed grin to show his sincerity.

The other chuckles. “You don’t remember giving me your jacket, then?”

“No.”

“You were very nice about it,” Iwaizumi tells him. “You said you couldn’t let me go back out into the cold without anything on and shoved it at me until I took it.”

Shirabu is stunned for a moment, before he chokes out, “I’m sorry I’m such a pushy drunk. That doesn’t sound nice.”

“You are very stubborn, but it was a nice gesture.” He starts to turn away, then whips back around, brow furrowed. “Wait. If you don’t remember anything, then why would you apologise for causing me trouble?”

“I, uh,” he fidgets uncomfortably, before softly admitting, “I’m always trouble when I’m drunk.”

Iwaizumi laughs loudly, and he’s stunned – he has such a beautiful laugh, but he’s also so embarrassed.

The older grins widely and claps him on the back, almost making him stumble. “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t that much trouble.”

“Really?” Shirabu’s sceptical – despite denying it, he does know a little of what transpired. His gushing messages to Kawanishi are proof enough of that.

“Well,” Iwaizumi pauses, “There is one thing I’d like to ask about.”

Oh no. Please don’t let it be–

“Shirabu-kun,” their eyes meet, bright green and nervous hazel, “You kept mentioning how ‘hot’ I was?”

Please kill me.

It takes him a few seconds to get his voice working again, but he manages to choke out, “I wasn’t lying.”

Iwaizumi’s expression softens a little, and he cracks a small smile. “I don’t think you were.”

“I’m sorry,” he bursts out. “Don’t tell anyone else, please.”

Iwaizumi looks confused. “Tell anyone what?”

“That I’m, you know,” he waves a hand, “Not straight.”

Some of the confusion clears from the older’s face, but he still sounds puzzled when he asks, “Why would I tell anyone that?”

“What?”

(He’s so confused.)

“It’s not my place to tell anyone else what your preferences are,” Iwaizumi says firmly, and he looks so serious, Shirabu actually believes him. “I wouldn’t want anyone doing that to me, and I wouldn’t do it to anyone else either.”

“I– Thank you.” He hesitates just a moment, before asking softly, “Can I ask? What your preferences are?”

Iwaizumi smiles a little. “I’m demisexual. You?”

“Pansexual.” It feels like a weight has been lifted when he says it out loud, and he lets out a small sigh.

He hears a laugh, looks up to see Iwaizumi grinning at him. “Never told anyone before?”

“…no,” he admits. “There wasn’t a need to.”

“Don’t I know how that feels,” Iwaizumi sighs.

There’s a beat of silence between them, before Iwaizumi says, “Well, I ought to be getting back. Thanks again.”

He can feel the opportunity slipping from between his fingers, breath catching in his throat as the words lodge themselves in the tight space, refusing to come out.

Last chance, the wind whispers as it brushes by.

His hand clenches around the jacket, turning fully to face his retreating back. “Iwaizumi-san!”

He turns, confusion playing out across his features, and he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully.

“I know you told me your preferences, but would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime? Tonight, if you’re free?”

The taller boy’s expression clears, replaced by a sort of wry smile. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going as friends. Don’t expect more.”

He bows sharply, hiding his smile in his collar.

“Of course.”

x.x.x.x.x

[Shirabu]: Won’t be back for dinner

[Semi]: again?

[Shirabu]: You’re not my mom

[Semi]: I pick up after yo u enough to be

[Shirabu]: whatever

[Shirabu]: I’ll be eating dinner on my own, relax

[Semi]: well, im glad you know what I’m worrying abt

[Shirabu]: IM NOT THT SKINNY

[Semi]: Yes you are

[Shirabu]: no

[Semi]: yes

[Shirabu]: No.

[Shirabu]: ps thanks for the shirasu-don

[Semi]: … youre welcome

[Shirabu]: I was bring sincere but guess I wont anymore

[Semi]: I was stunned, sue me

[Shirabu]: I’m not that ungrateful

[Semi]: o rlly

[Shirabu]: guess I’ll put the tekka maki back

[Semi]: WAIT

Shirabu snickers as he pockets his phone without replying, putting the packet of fish into the basket and nudging the person beside him. “Come on, let’s go.”

Kenma barely looks up from his game, but he does ask, “Do you have the apple pie?”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “No. I’m going to make you apple pie instead of letting you eat the store-bought one.”

“Really?” It’s the most hopeful Shirabu has ever heard him, and he smothers a laugh.

“Yes, of course. You should learn how to make it too.”

“Lazy,” Kenma mumbles, trudging along behind him. “Kuro’ll get me some any time.”

“You treat him like a servant.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Huh?”

“Eita spends half his time picking up after you.”

“I don’t ask him to.”

“But he still does, and you don’t thank him. At least I thank Kuro.”

Shirabu opens his mouth to refute, but finds his words gone, any eloquence dried up like an old well. He can practically feel the smugness radiating off his friend, and stews quietly – what else can he do?

They’re almost at the checkout when he thinks to say, “I do things for him sometimes too.”

Kenma doesn’t reply for a long while – he thinks he must have reached the boss stage – but when he does, it’s with a sigh and the blackened screen of his game. “Not as much as he does for you.”

Shirabu’s almost too stunned that he turned off his game to answer. “He doesn’t have to. He’s trying to be my mom,” he grumbles.

“He cares about you.”

“He cares about everyone.”

“Fair point.”

Shirabu props the basket onto the self-checkout counter, scanning in silence. Kenma helps to bag the items, remaining mercifully quiet until they exit the store.

“You know, there was a point in time where Kuroo told me he liked me.”

“Oh?” He is confused; what does this have to do with their earlier conversation?

“Yeah,” Kenma muses. “But now he has Koutarou, so I don’t have to worry about feelings I can’t return.”

“I see.”

(Really, what is he supposed to say to all this?)

“You don’t understand what I’m trying to hint at,” Kenma comments.

Shirabu feels relieved and slightly annoyed. “What gave it away?”

“Your face, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.” Kenma smiles, but it drops quickly, sighing. “Maybe Eita’s so caring because he likes you.”

He snorts. “As if Semi-san would ever like me.”

“Why not?”

“We just don’t like each other.” His tone is hard, trying to signal the end of the conversation, and he’s glad when Kenma doesn’t press further.

He doesn’t want to revisit those memories. After all, they’ve been locked away for a reason.

x.x.x.x.x

“You sure you'll be okay?”

“For goodness sake, yes. I’m moving to the city, not to another country.”

“Just checking. I–”

“Worry. I know.” His voice has softened, and he drops his bag, tilting his head back to regard him. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

His friend pulls him into a smothering hug, enveloping him fully in his embrace, counting, counting, keeping time until he has to let go.

“Be safe.” A whisper as he steps back, full of panic and worry and desperate, desperate wishes.

“I’ll do what I can.” It’s not a promise – he can’t promise this, definitely not – but it’s the sincerity of the sentiment that pacifies him, because now, it might take him a bit longer to do something stupid.

“Call me when you get there.”

“I’ll text you,” he offers. “You’re getting overbearing like this.”

He opens his mouth only to bite back the I worry that threatens to fall out, swapping it for an Okay instead.

This time it’s Shirabu who steps forward for a hug, whispering his goodbyes, shouting them in the strength of his embrace, lightly reassuring him in the soft touch on his hair.

And then he’s on the train, and the afternoon sun blinds him as he watches the train disappear.

x.x.x.x.x

[Eita]: Coming over?

[Kenma]: Nah. Kuros cooking

[Eita]: For Futakuchi too or no

[Eita]: ?

[Kenma]: ofc for futa too

[Kenma]: I am very kinf, u kno

[Eita]: how did kenma let you have his phone

[Kenma]: I have my ways

[Kenma]: n e way, kitten and futa r with me tonite

[Eita]: I had to stare at that for 5 min before it made sense

[Kenma]: Kuros spelling sucks

[Eita]: Tell me sth I dont know

[Kenma]: Futakuchi snores

[Kenma]: Dinner. C u tmr

[Eita]: See you

Semi places his phone at the edge of the table, lacing his hands behind his head. A slow grin spreads over his face as the reality of the situation settles on him.

No Shirabu, Kenma or Futakuchi tonight. Wow.

I can finally study in peace, hell yes.

He gets up to pluck a textbook from his bag, setting a timer on his phone before putting it in the dresser.

If he's to study, there can be no distractions. But he’ll have to get up and make dinner eventually, and he refuses to forget to eat just because he’s actually studying for once.

He flips open to where he left off, re-reading the familiar concept, sinking into the rhythm of absorbing information.

x.x.x.x.x

It’s 11pm when he stops, and as he gets up to brush his teeth, his eyes land on the empty bed next to him.

It’s a little worrying, but he reminds himself that Shirabu is old enough to take care of himself, pushing the thought out of mind as he leaves the room.

He writes a note and pins it to their corkboard, casting a last glance at the vacant bed before he turns out the lights.

(The emptiness rings in his head, a despondent purr throbbing in his mind. It prods at the gaping maw of his heart, reminding, reminding, of better times, noisier times, a time where there was laughter and table lamps and trundling snores–)

The room is too quiet, and he sighs.

He’ll never get used to sleeping alone.

x.x.x.x.x

Come home earlier next time, it’s not safe late at night.

P.S. It’s your turn to make lunch but I’m getting up early because I’m sure you won’t wake up.

He plucks the note from the board, smiling at the first part of the message, sticking his tongue out at his roommate's back at the latter half.

Grabbing a pen from the table, he scribbles his reply and sticks the note back on the board before grabbing his things to shower.

His phone lights up with a new message, and he types a reply with a small grin before leaving, closing the door quietly behind him.

In the silence of the room, the phone vibrates periodically, marking the pauses between the soft snores from the occupied bed.

1 unread message from Taichi

15 unread messages from Futakuchi

2 unread messages from Iwaizumi✨

#semi eita #shirabu kenjirou #kozume kenma #kawanishi taichi #semishira #cygnus #my writing #haikyuu!!

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