#rip sky she deserved better than to be fridged

[funnyscienceman]

there's no point to any of this if you're not here with me to see it.

[hes-writer]

Birthday

Summary: harry forgets y/n's birthday

Warnings: angst and fluff if you squint

Word Count: 2871 words

A/N: I’m tired. My head hurts (sucky ending ahead)

___

How silly was it to stare at a phone in anticipation for hours, waiting for it to buzz and light up with a simple banner stating ‘happy birthday!’ from your closest friends? It was a sad reality for Y/N. She was never very outspoken, often opting to keep to herself and speak only when she was comfortable. Friends were a touchy topic because she had lost so many in the past that she didn’t bother making new ones for the sake of not going through another fallen friendship.

What was the point of going through the cycle over and over again if Y/N knew the dreaded ending? She was better off saving herself from heartbreak and stick with the true friends she had.

For the past years, Y/N’s closest friends brought her joy and animated presents to celebrate her birthday. She appreciated them very much, declaring that they only had to give her greetings and she would be happy. They cared so much until they didn’t. Was it because of quarantine that they failed to realize what day it was? Were they busy with work? Were they finishing up a university project worth half of their marks? Did they forget? Y/N wondered what changed.

Having stability within herself was something that she always struggled with. As much as she tried to convince herself that she is important and that she’s worth it—Y/N knew that it was only a matter of time before all those reassurances blew up in her face.

Sometimes she feels as though she cared too much, expected too much and got nothing in return. It wasn’t a competition; really, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t want to sound entitled but the fact that she remembered the important days and the special occasions, bringing gifts and cheery greetings only to have nothing but empty silence when the day was about her hurt more than a metal scooter to her ankle bone. 

And for the sake of it, Y/N forced herself to understand that her friends didn’t remember. They were still her friends even if she hasn't spoken to them in a while. Their life didn’t revolve around her even if it felt like she dedicated too much of hers caring for them and making sure that they felt good about themselves. Y/N hated to see them sad, doubting themselves to the point where she had to step in—too irritated to bite her tongue because they didn’t deserve to be put down that way whether it was by their own thoughts or somebody else’s.

It was a completely different story with Harry. She and Harry have been together for three years and counting, sharing memories between the two; affection, intimacy and caressing touches imprinted on one another’s skin. He was the most amazing person Y/N had ever met; always pleasing others but knowing when to draw the line. He was both logical and affectionate, never letting his heart rule too heavy on his decisions but always using his head to think it through.

Recently, Y/N felt as if their relationship was taking a low. She wasn’t too concerned because it had happened before and a simple, meaningful talk was often what she and Harry needed to get back on the right track for a long-lasting relationship. The days were passing by continuously, sometimes even confusing her until she found something to look forward to. Her birthday.

—-

The rays battled through the blinds, blinding her with faint yellow sunshine yet Y/N could see the clouds covering the sky, indicating that it was cloudy and frankly, a little bit cold today.

She yawned, pressing her fists against her eye to knuckle on them, rubbing the sleep out before stretching them outwards. She expected to hit a body laying beside her, Harry, but she was met with open-air and a sudden chill enveloping her body despite the thick comforter laying on top of her.

Y/N pressed her palms on the mattress. The creases imprinting indents on her skin as she pushed herself up slightly in alarm. Sure enough, Harry’s side of the bed was empty, wrinkled with his movements from sleep but he was nowhere to be found. His usual humming habits didn’t echo from the bathroom, nor did his constant yelps of clothes falling off the rack reverberate from the walk-in closet. She concluded that maybe he was in the kitchen preparing a special breakfast in bed—waffles and freshly cut fruit were always her favourites.

Y/N smiled at the thought, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, slipping her feet in her fuzzy slippers before dragging her legs to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Aside from a few work emails needing to be responded to, her day was essentially empty, hoping that her time would soon be filled with long-lasting memories.

Ten minutes later and a questionable frown on her face, Y/N entered the kitchen with a beating heart. The smell of breakfast food didn’t linger in the air as she had expected. In fact, there was nobody there. No one in the living room, nowhere. There was no note taped to the fridge, no gifts sitting on the counter, no cake cooling on the stove rack.

Y/N felt the corner of her mouth dip in disappointment, returning to the bedroom to switch her phone on.

A hole in her chest formed at the sight of an empty lock screen—no messages or calls needing to be tended to because no one had remembered her birthday. She tried not to think too much about it, maybe they were busy or forced by Harry to stay quiet because he had planned a surprise party later in the evening. Y/N sighed, tapping her thumbs to text him ‘where are you 🥺’.

The damage ripped her further apart at a notification showing pictures of ‘Today, 1 Year ago’. She contemplated whether to view them or not, aware that she was torturing herself for not getting the same amount of sentiment as the previous years.

‘meeting. I’ll call you x’ - Harry

Y/N swiped the message up, opting not to reply and wallowing in self-pity as she tried not to let her thoughts get the better of her. Today was supposed to be a happy day so why was she feeling so sad?

Wandering around Harry’s large house, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a cold blanket of loneliness draping over her shoulder. She wished that Harry was here to ease the ache quelling in her heart. All she wanted was to share sweet kisses with his soft lips, to feel his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Hearing his voice whispering dirty thoughts and compliments in her ear while she buried her face on the nape of his neck where his scent was the strongest. Maybe they would bake a cake in the kitchen. Flour dusting the air as Harry let his fingers wiggle to get it off of him. The finished product didn’t always look good but it tended to taste delicious. At least it was edible.

The daydreams in her head moved with the branches swaying outside the window, the fluffy white clouds moving westward as Y/N reeled in memories of her past birthday like a camera roll, creaking with each spin. The flickering blinking with forgotten remnants of happy flashbacks.

It was nearing four in the afternoon when Y/N decided to stop antsily waiting for the device to buzz in hopes of a message from Harry or anybody, really. The slight grief she felt washed over her mind, echoing that she wasn’t important enough to be remembered.

She didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

Y/N didn’t know what bothered her the most. Is it fair for her to expect Harry to remember her birthday? Was it a given? If he came home right now with a present on his left hand, balloons and flowers on his right with a sheepish smile inching up the lower half of his face—would Y/N still feel angry? Sad? Disappointed? All she wanted was him to remember on his own. Maybe then she’ll feel as though she was worth his time. It wasn’t even about the gifts or a celebration—just a simple acknowledgment that meant he cared for her.

She kept asking herself if she should feel sad. If she had the right to feel disappointed. It wasn’t like they made any plans. It wasn’t like he promised to do anything special with her. It felt more and more like a normal day instead of her birthday and Y/N’s heart twinged with realization.

If Harry ‘made it up to her’, was it overpowering guilt that would make him do it? Or because he genuinely forgot? Maybe both? Nonetheless, the hours passed by with barely anything productive being accomplished, having taken the day off for nothing. The device beside her vibrated once, a message from her aunt saying ‘happy birthday’ left a smile on her face. It wasn’t every day that Y/N received a text from her extended family-- she concluded that it was because her birthday was on the same day as her grandfather’s.

____

The sun sunk down beyond the horizon, darkness littering the streets that the light disappeared due to nighttime slowly cycling through the rest of the day. Y/N spent her time as she would any other day, except this time she baked a cake. A pity cake for her gloomy day. She was like a burnt cigarette crumpled on the ashtray, the last traces of orange hue fire spotting into black traces.

Y/N felt foolish wearing a party hat with a string that was way too short stretched around her head. The tightness tramping her that would probably cause slight indentations on her skin. It was nearing midnight when she decided to sing herself a happy birthday and made a wish.

The door unlocked, followed by keys rattling on a hardwood. The flame on her wax candle dancing with the gasp she released as Harry rounded the corner to the kitchen.

“Y/N, you in here?” He froze in place as his eyes caught up with the rest of his body. Harry’s fingers tightened around his phone before slipping it in his back pocket. His mouth parted open, throat closing up as he tried to swallow the lump that formed. The party hat sitting on her head almost took away from the severity of the situation.

He messed up. Really bad.

“Hey, Har,” Y/N greeted, crimping her lips to bare a small ghast to the candle. The flame disappeared in the blink of an eye. Harry’s heart hammered harder in his sternum, Y/N’s plunged to her churning stomach. “Where have you been?”

The tone of her voice was mundane. Harry was trying his best to decipher how she was feeling so that he can act accordingly and that was exactly why Y/N purposefully voided it of any susceptible sentiment.

“Y/N, I-I’m sorry,” He padded his feet closer to her, the kitchen island putting distance between them. She sat on the barstool, removing the hat from her head. She fixed her hair as Harry spoke. “I’m really sorry,”

Green eyes bore through her with a sincere expression, shooting daggers in her heart for staying quiet while Harry apologized profusely. The chocolate frosted cake drooped on the edges--she had a habit of smothering the layers with frosting before it fully cooled down-- just like the corners of her mouth.

“What are you sorry for?”

Harry blinked at her, resting his hands on the edge of the counter. “I forgot your birthday,”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, you did.”

“Happy birthday, baby” His voice was tender, like a bowl of sweet, milk chocolate. Decadent and rich as it released the words she had been waiting to hear all day long. And frankly, it would’ve been enough to put a smile to her face, but the lack of content for the day embedded her in a mindset that not even Harry’s simple words could dig her out of. The amount of self-reflection she did today was a topic that she had tried to avoid for so long because it was too destructive--she never handled these thoughts well.

Y/N peered at the digital clock on the stove just as it switched to ‘00:01’. Harry followed her gaze, hitching a breath in his throat. She stared at him deeply, "Where were you?”

“Studio. I had a flow, couldn’t stop and I--,” He rambled on, nervously scratching the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the tiny curls. A part of Y/N couldn’t help but feel selfish for making this all about her (even if it was about her). Harry had other commitments besides her. He had a music career that depended on him writing songs. She knew how much it meant to him when a flow was just too good--lyrics spewing out of his mouth, melodies humming from the base of his throat. Harry wrote some of his best work in the middle of the night after dreaming about something that absolutely puzzled her to no end. Remorse spotted in her chest.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said slowly. “You were working hard. I get it,” Her hands reached out for his waist, his Gucci hoodie soft to the touch.

Harry hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, wondering if he should uncover the whole truth. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin jutting on the crown of her head. A sudden breeze slipped up his back when she slid her warm palms under the fabric. “No, I wasn’t,”

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat, leaning back far enough that he could maintain eye contact with her, “I wasn’t working hard. I was sleeping. I did write some tunes bu’ then I got knocked out for hours and didn’t wake up until eleven,”

“Oh,” Y/N let her hands dangle beside her, a rush of disappointment flooding her every being. She carefully sewed up her next response, “S’okay, you were tired,” And she was too. All she wanted was to cuddle up in their bed and he can make it up to her another day.

“It’s not okay!” Harry retorted. “I forgot about your birthday, left you all alone. I didn’t even text you,” He pounded his fist on the counter, way too close to the chocolate cake that had Y/N sneakily pulling the tray away from him but he caught her, “Didn’t get you a cake. Didn’t buy ya’ a present,”

“Harr--,” She tried to intervene in his monologue. Disappointment still weighed heavily in her chest. However, the sight of Harry fuming at his ability to remember reminded her that she didn’t enjoy seeing him blaming himself. As much as she wished to have this day play out differently, everything was already said and done.

“Stop that, Y/N! I was sleeping while you were blowing a candle out on your own. I was s’pposed to be there with you,”

Salty tears flooded her waterline, overwhelming emotions swamping her and saturating her mind, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry,” He rushed out, willing his legs to stand between hers from the distance he created. His thumb stuck out to pad a tear to her temple, “I’ll make it up to you. I swear it,”

Earlier, she contemplated if he would be acting out of guilt. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes and hearing the intensity of his voice asserting that he had messed up so badly that he reprimanded himself; there was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that Harry would do everything he can to make her feel better.

“Do you care about me?”

“‘Course, I do,” He cringed internally at his words, visibly shuddering as his actions surely emphasized the opposite. “Dunno how I forgot. It must’ve slipped my mind,” The groove in between his brows thickened, his cheek absentmindedly leaning towards her palm cupping his cheek. “I care about you a lot, Y/N.” He breathed through his nose, letting the scent of her fill his lungs.

“Do you love me?’

His lids snapped open, jaw tensing against her skin, “Loads. I love you so much,” He turned his head to kiss her palm, holding her wrist to press kisses on her fingers, her wrist, her forearm.

“I’m really sorry,” He rested his forehead against hers. Y/N tangled their fingers together as she held him close.

“You’re sorry?” She asked, the crest of her lips brushing over his plump ones. Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Very,”

Y/N let her eyes fall shut, peering closer to his cloudy lips and attaching his mouth to his. Her hands travelled to his broad shoulders, straightening her back to reach his height. Harry bent down in retaliation.  They pulled away with a smacking sound, lips glistening from their intense kiss. “S’that mean I’m forgiven?” He mumbled, pressing a kiss on her head.

She scoffed, turning her attention on the cake, “Have you made it up to me yet?”

___

sucky ending, i know.

___

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Birthday Taglist: @millie-753 @tomhiddleston-is-mischief @liaabsurd

[we-have-bangtan]

Random One-shot.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Theme: Angst, fluff, pain.

Warning: mentions of alcohol and swear words.

A/n: pls imagine long hair Jungkook from winter package 2021.

“I want an answer, goddammit!” Jungkook yelled in his drunk stupor. His eyes looking up to the sky from the large rock he was standing on, he wanted an answer, he was tired of this.

"WHY AM I NOT A PRINCESS???" He yelled again when someone yelled at him. "Jesus Christ, can you not shut up, dumbass' like you don't get to be princesses!" a female voice snapped

"GOD??" he asked, terrified, he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet God yet, he was still so young and dumb, a sinner who hadn't done a single act of redemption yet.

"No you idiot, look down here!" the voice said again, this time much closer, Jungkook looked down as instructed to see Yn looking up at him from the foot of the rock, "You!!!" he yelled, jumping off the rock in an attempt to look cool only to stumble and fall to the ground.

"Aish what a loser!" she playfully sneered as she reached out to help him up, "You didn't get hurt, did you?" she asked, taking his hand as pulling him along with her.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, stumbling after her to where ever she was taking him, he didn't care where she was taking him, he was just happy that she was with him. "Why? am I not supposed to be here?" she demanded watching in amusement as Jungkook tried to correct himself.

"Could you not be nicer to me? I'm going through a tough time here" he groaned, putting all his body weight on her as she dragged him to his car.

"You're facing the consequences of your actions Koo, you bought these tough times upon your self" she mumbles softly, resting him against the car door before patting his pants.

"Yah, Yn! you're hot and all but not my type, this is harassment!" he yelled, hiccuping between each word. "Shut up and stay still, I'm trying to find your keys" she huffed as she finally pulled his keys out of his back pocket.

She successfully shoved him into the passenger seat before heading to the other side, "Here have some water" she said, opening the bottle of water he always kept in his car. He obeyed quietly, his eyes growing wider as he put his lips to the mouth of the bottle, taking a few sips. Her cooing and praise motivating him to finish the whole bottle.

He rested his head on her shoulder as she rived up the engine, she didn't seem to mind the weight of his head, calmly changing gears as they went down Namsan mountain. "How did you get here?" he asked, already half asleep. "Yoongi gave me a ride" she answered as she pulled up on the main road which was quite crowded for 1:00 a.m.

"Why did you come to get me? I've been horrible to you" he asked feeling a pang in his chest remembering all that he had done to her, to sweet, sweet Ynnie who never saw wrong in anyone.

"You weren't horrible Gukkie, you were just hurt, you didn't hurt me or anything" she said, her eyes on the road, she refused to look at him as he spoke.

"Stop saying that, I put too much effort into hurting you for you to say that" he whined as un-shed tears pooled in his eyes, she laughed at his words, it was true.

He had gone out of his way to hurt her one too many times, and it had hurt like a gun shot right through her chest, but she was okay now, she was doing fine and had forgiven this brat a long time ago, but he didn't seem to be able to forgive himself for the pain he had caused her.

"Go to sleep Jungkook-ah, I'm here with you, just sleep, I'll wake you up once we get home." she mumbled softly, her words giving Jungkook the green light to fall asleep.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Jungkook felt like he was seeing God when he woke up, a blinding light in his eyes, but blinking a few times proved to him that that was not the case. It wasn't God, just his bedroom curtain being drawn away and the sun shining in.

He groaned as he realized where he was, 'was it all a dream?' he thought as he pulled himself off his bed, his head felt like it had been bombed with a M67 grenade, an unpleasant taste settling in his mouth from all the alcohol last night only to realize that he was in the same clothes he had been wearing yesterday.

He really wished last night hadn't been a dream, that Yn had actually come to get him from Namsan mountain. It had been their spot before they had stopped going there due to the amount of drunkards who went there to drink and left beer bottles everywhere.

He never would have thought he'd join that category but his actions last night made him ashamed of himself.

A shower was up next, the scalding water hitting his skin made him hiss, but he refused to wait till the water cooled down, his mind stopped thinking for a while as he showered.

The thoughts flooding back once he got back, pulling on a t-shirt as he went into the living room.

"So you're awake!" Namjoon yelled when he saw Jungkook emerge from his room. "My head is killing me!" Jungkook groaned as he headed to the fridge, "Yn left a note and something else for you, it's on the kitchen counter" Jin yelled from his place on the couch.

Yn's sticky note stuck to a lunchbox which laid on the counter, he wiped his hair with a towel as he grabbed a bottle of cold water, going to read the note,

Jungkookie,

Please drink moderately from now on, being an alcoholic is so not cool and don't drink in public, you'll get arrested.

I know you're going through a tough time so I made kookies for you, enjoy them to the fullest and please try to get the closure that you deserve. Don't coop yourself up in your room, you're starting to get too pale.

Please be careful, tell the boys I love them <3.

Yn.

'tell the boys I love them', Jungkook read the same line over and over again, did this mean she didn't love him anymore? was he no longer existent to her?

He didn't know what that line meant, but it made him sad, sad that he wasn't part of the 'boys' that she was referring to, nope, he was no long one of her 'boys', she was someone who he'd never be able to face again.

A pang went through his chest as reality settled in once again. He had no redemption from this, no one should forgive him for the things he had done to her, not even him.

"Did you see her when she left?" he asked as he picked up the lunchbox, seeing the perfectly made kookies inside, tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at them, kookies were Yn's version of dasik, a traditional Korean cookie that she made often.

Nostalgia hit him like a truck as he picked up the fragile dessert, the smell of sesame seeds bringing back memories of the two of them in her parents' kitchen, him teasing her while she toiled away at the counter, grinding, kneading and pressing.

He didn't help because she always yelled at him for making a mess but oh, the things he'd do to get her to yell at him again, even if it was for just one more time.

"Yn made dasik????" Jimin said, peering at the delicacy, Jungkook quickly wiped away his tears, trying to seem strong, he didn't want his hyungs seeing him cry over sweets.

Jimin's words had caught the attention of everyone else, making them all whine, "How come he gets sweets and I get nothing!!" Jin huffed as he pulled his phone out to dial Yn's number, a number Jungkook didn't have anymore.

"Yah, Jungkookie, sharing is caring you know" Namjoon said as he got up from his place when Yoongi stopped him, he knew how much the cookies meant to Jungkook now that he and Yn were no longer the same that they used to be.

Jungkook quietly walked back to his room with the box and water bottle, plopping down on the floor so he could lean his back against the bed, he opened the box again.

He picked one delicate kookie up, she had named it after him when things had still been fine, no, not fine, when things had been wonderful. He never thought these cookies would mean so much to him.

The tears that he had controlled so carefully in the kitchen flowed free as the memories flooded his mind, every memory of Yn fitting like the beautiful stained glass windows of churches, he rushed to pull out his phone, scrolling through the bin in search of pictures of the two of them.

He didn't know why Yn's presence had affected him so much, but it had affected him in a way no break up could. It had been an year since he and Yn had gone off the deep end, cutting off contact with each other. Jungkook had gone the extra mile to delete all the pictures he had of Yn and to make her life as horrible as he could.

He couldn't blame it on his, now, ex-girlfriend Minjoon who had encouraged him to cut her out, all he could do was blame himself for it, he had no reason for being like that, no excuse to make himself feel better, he never thought Yn leaving his life would be more painful than Minjoon leaving.

Fuck, he had never though Yn would leave his life, if someone had told that to 19 year old Jungkook, he would have laughed in their face. But now, here he was, crying over Yn's kookies and her photos.

He had been a terrible friend and he'd never forgive himself for it, he had done unmentionable things that had ripped Yn from him despite her trying to hold on for so long.

His tears turned into sobs as he remembered all the times she had just taken his abuse without a word while the rest of the boys had yelled at him.

He was a fool for choosing Minjoon over her, when he had broken up with Minjoon the day before yesterday, he hadn't been sad that they had broken up, he was sad that he had let go of Yn, that he had lost hold of the one constant in his life.

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

Namjoon pressed his ear to the door, hoping to hear something, anything, that would indicate Jungkook was still alive in there. It had been 3 days since he had locked himself in, only coming out at the dead of night to grab more booze before going back inside.

He felt Jungkook deserved ever inch of pain he was going through for everything he had done to Yn, Namjoon pitied him, the kid was still young, supposed to be carefree and making merry, but here he was, drinking his life away.

While Namjoon definitely wouldn't mind leave Jungkook alone to get over it himself, he couldn't let the kid just die in there.

.

.

.

.

.

Jungkook jerked awake when a bucket of water was splashed on his face, his head and neck aching at the sudden movement, "What??" he thought as he looked around, empty bottles of alcohol scattered around his room.

He didn't think as he laid back down in the puddle of water, ready to go back to sleep when a sharp pain shot through his body, starting from his leg, he immediately jerked up again, his gaze on the chunky pair of shoes that had just caused him pain.

"I TOLD YOU TO DRINK MODERATELY" a voice yelled as his eyes traveled above the shoes till his eyes met Yn's dark ones, he didn't know what to do or say now that he was face to face with him.

"You need to get over Minjoon, she was a hoe for breaking your heart, but that doesn't mean you become an alcoholic, now go take a shower, you smell of garbage" she said, pulling Jungkook onto his feet. He swayed a little letting the words sink in.

"You think I'm this upset because of Minjoon?" he asked when his brain finally started working again, "Ummm... are you not?" she asked, seeming surprised at the revelation.

"No, I'm not" he said, stepping closer to her, quickly stopping when he saw her move away, "Go shower Jungkook, we'll talk once you've eaten something" she said softly, her concern for him evident in her tone.

He quietly left, heading to the bathroom, praying that she'd still be there by the time he came back. He washed his hair and body as quickly as possible, clumsily dropping the bottle of shampoo and bar of soap in the process.

He stepped out to a somewhat clean room, the puddle of water was gone, but the bottles remained the way they were before, he quickly gathered them up, using his foot to swing the door open as he head into the living room.

He saw Yn and Jimin chilling on the couch, giggling over something on Jimin's phone, oblivious to his presence. He loudly dropped the cans and bottles into the trash making the two of them turn towards him.

"All clean?" Yn asked, craning her neck so she could see him clearly. He nodded, he had freshened up although his hair was still wet. She beckoned him over to the couch, shoving Jimin out of his place next to her (it made him whine but he left eventually) .

A bowl of steaming hot ramyeon sat on the coffee table, the serving was enough for two people and Jungkook assumed it was both for him and Yn. She turned onto her side, facing him as he sat on the couch, he did the same, pulling his feet up and crossing them as she stared at him with a smile.

She picked up the bowl of ramyeon, handing it to him, "Eat." she demanded, giving him a pair of chopsticks as well. "Are you not eating?" he asked, digging his chopsticks in, "You haven't eaten in three days, Jungkook, you need to eat" she answered as he slurped the noodles, "this is good!!" he exclaimed.

Yn almost drooled at the noises he made while eating, her mouth watering at the thought of exactly how good that ramyeon was, "you want some?" Jungkook asked as he pulled up a piece of chicken from inside, hovering it within the reach of her mouth.

Yn gulped as she stared at the piece, no, no no, she should not, "go on, one bite" Jungkook tempted, his hand still infront of her mouth, "no? are you sure?" he teased, seeing right through her poker face.

Yn gave in when Jungkook made a huge show of pulling his chopsticks away, leaning forward and grabbing the piece of chicken with her mouth. "I'll go get you another pair of chopsticks" Jungkook aid as he got up, he felt better, maybe he and Yn would go back to how things were before.

He hopped back onto the couch, handing her the chopsticks. They passed the bowl back and forth, each of them taking a bite and passing it back. "Why did you come here anyway?" he asked as she slurped on the noodles.

"Why? should I not come?" she demanded as she passed the bowl back, he paused, looking up at her, "I just never thought you'd come back here after everything" he answered, taking a big bite before giving it back.

"want to order some jajangmeyoen? I don't think this ramen will be enough" he said, scrolling through his phone for the restaurant's phone number, Yn hummed in agreement as she passed the bowl back, "here order" he said, handing her his phone as he continued to eat.

"I came because Namjoon called me saying you drank yourself to death" she admitted as she dialed the number, ordering a variety of side dishes before hanging up.

"You were worried" he said, reframing the answer she gave, "I never stopped" she mumbled as she finished the last of the ramen in the bowl, the sauce getting on her upper lip as she drank the rest of the soup.

"Why did you care so much?" he mumbled as he pulled his long sleeve to wipe away the sauce o her face, like a parent tending to their messy child. "Because I love you" she huffed as she saw tears well up in Jungkook's eyes at her words.

She pulled him into her arms, holding him tight as he cried, 'poor Jungkook, he's been through so much' she thought as she hugged him tight, "I though you didn't love me anymore" he sobbed as he held on to her waist, refusing to let go.

"Aigoo, why did you think that, did I ever give you a reason to think that I don't love you anymore?" she coo'd, it was funny, how Jungkook was much bigger than she was in size, yet he tended to make himself as small as possible when she held him.

"But I hurt you so much, why would you still?" he sobbed, she held him tighter, letting him cry, "you were in love, I don't blame you, you didn't know any better" she assured, "That doesn't excuse everything I did" he mumbled.

It was true, it didn't excuse what he did but he was too precious for Yn to push away, he meant too much for her and she knew it wasn't totally Jungkook's fault that they had fallen apart in pieces.

She had put all her baggage on him, regardless of if he could carry it for her or not, it had been a key factor in driving him away. She had been too dependent on him, she basically revolved around him till they broke apart.

But Jungkook going away had made her better, more independent and more social. She stopped connecting comfort with Jungkook, he was not her comfort during those times, she had learnt to comfort herself, make herself happy.

During the time her and Jungkook had been fighting, her ego had flared up, she stopped trying with him, preferring to return the snarky attitude that he was giving her, his actions had hurt her pride but she was over it now, she had made peace with the past and with Jungkook's behavior.

She knew he was suffering and she hated seeing him like this, "don't cry, don't cry kook, it's okay, I'm fine, I'm over it" she mumbled as his sobs turned into silent tears.

She looked up to see Namjoon standing at the doorway, seeing awkward and uncomfortable. Yn gave him a small smile, he considered that as permission to sneak into his room quietly.

Jungkook's sobs turned into silent tears as he came to terms with reality, Yn was here with him again, she was the same, she didn't hate him, she still loved him the same. "Who the hell even told you that I don't love you anymore?" Yn demanded as she saw his tears subside, he just held on to her now, no more crying.

"You wrote 'tell the boys i love them' what else do you want me to think" he whined as buried his face in her neck, not wanting to see her eyes narrow at him, "yah, I didn’t write that note so you'd overthink and cry about it" she scolded as she squished his cheeks in her hand.

He pulled away, getting up to go drink some water, he just had the most satisfying cry of his life and he felt lighter, maybe it was the dehydration, he didn't know but he certainly felt lighter. His head was more clear than it had been in ages.

He was washing his face when the doorbell rang, "jajangmyeon!!" Yn exclaimed as she went to answer the door, taking the various boxes before grabbing his wallet, "where is your card?" She yelled as she dug through it. "Its on the desk in my room" he yelled back as he scrubbed the soap off.

He felt happy, hearing her shuffling around in the apartment after such a long time, it made him think that they could go back to how they were before. But for now, he was satisfied, happy, he'd take whatever she'd give him now. He had a lot of making up to do and he swore he'dtreat her better than he had. He'd make himself a better friend for her.

Even if they didn't become best friends right away, he swore he'd put in the effort and consideration to make himself deserving of her love again.

[tetsurobunni]

Heather

☞ songfic based off the song heather by conan gray bc yea // 5k words

☼ pining, angst, slight nfsw (making out), happy ending; spoilers for haikyuu s1 ending

☼ pairing : daichi sawamura x sugawara koushi

☞ i love this ship with my entire being, that being said:

this text = song lyrics

italics = inner thoughts + flashbacks

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

Suga quietly opened the door of his home and stepped inside, taking off his shoes before he entered the kitchen. He saw a plate on the table, on it laid a little piece of paper that wrote 'Made some dinner, got called in for work. Love you sweetie.' He smiled slightly at the note, making a mental note to thank his mother in the morning. Suga looked at the food on the plate in disinterest; he had no appetite.

He was drained.

He lazily put the unopened plate of food in the fridge, hitching his bag up higher onto his shoulder as he padded up the stairs to his room. Upon entering, he tossed his gym bag to the floor. Sighing, he laid down onto the soft comforter of his bed, turning his head to look at the night sky through his window. Closing his eyes, a memory of a night just like this started to replay in his head.

**flashback**

I still remember, the third of December

Suga sat on his bed, staring at the stars as they glittered in the night sky. Soft footsteps were heard behind him, the bed dipping as the weight from another body came in contact with it.

"Whatchya lookin' at, Suga?" Daichi asked, shifting his weight so he was propped up next to him on the bed. Suga could feel the small flutters in his chest that had slowly started to reveal themselves more and more the past few weeks. They always arose whenever Daichi was near, causing him to knead his fingers together in nervousness- or was it excitement? He couldn't tell.

"The stars, Daichi," he said, eyes twinkling as he was mesmerized by the small lights in the sky, eyes scouring to find constellations he had read about. A light breeze blew through the open window, causing Suga to shiver slightly as the cold air brushed over his skin. The bed lifted up as Daichi walked over to his bag, unbeknownst to the gray-haired setter who was still entranced with the celestial display in front of him.

Suga slightly jumped as a jacket was placed over his shoulders, the familiar lingering scent of cologne and earthy smells invaded his senses.

"Don't even try and act like you're not cold," Daichi said, a slight chuckle in his words as he made his way back to the bed. The flutters had grown even more now; Suga had to stop himself from just bunching up the fabric towards his nose and breathing in Daichi's smell. Instead, he put his arms through the sleeves, tugging the warm material around his body.

Me in your sweater

Suga looked over to Daichi, blushing slightly as he noticed the brown-headed captain staring at him. His fingers twiddled with the fabric of the jacket, a sign of nervousness that he hoped Daichi hadn't caught onto yet. He gave his best friend a small smile, ignoring the painfully prominent flutters in his chest as he looked into his eyes.

"Y'know, that looks better on you than it does me," the captain said, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyed the setter in his volleyball jacket. Suga's cheeks flamed as he turned away from Daichi's gaze, hoping he hadn't seen the effect his comment had on him. Even so, a small smile made it's way onto his face.

You said it looked better on me than it did you

**end of flashback**

Suga closed his curtains, blocking his view of the stars he used to love so much. Everything lately had just seemed so much dimmer. That memory was painful and caused his heart to ache. He tried to forget. He tried, he really did-but those damn flutters would never go away.

"Only if you knew how much I liked you."

He whispered the words into the night as he pulled a pillow up to his face, squeezing it hard against his chest. Silent sobs racked through him and tears escaped his eyes one after the other, the only sounds in the room being his quiet sniffles and muffled cries. He couldn't help but think back to how simple everything was then; so much easier to handle. All he had to do was keep his feelings in check whenever he was around Daichi.

Now he had the watch the man he loved be swept away by Yuu Michimiya.

But I see your eyes as she walks by

Suga first noticed the connection between Daichi and Michimiya one day in the hallway. The two were putting their outside shoes into the small lockers that were provided for them at the school. They were talking about the training camp that was approaching, joking about how they were going to have to keep a close eye on Bokuto this time because he might steal Hinata if they weren't careful. Daichi laughed at a comment Suga had made, causing those damn flutters to erupt in his chest once again.

Turning his head to the side to crack another joke to Daichi, his words got caught in his throat. Daichi had completely zoned out of their conversation, eyes widened slightly as he stared at an approaching figure walking down the hallway. Suga slowly trailed his eyes to where he was staring, and when they reached the cause of that look in Daichi's eyes, he could feel his heart shatter into a million tiny little pieces.

What a sight for sore eyes

Suga had watched as the short-haired brunette walked by the two, the feeling of rage almost overpowering the poker face he held as he saw the black material that hung around the girl's shoulders. His hands had clenched into fists near his chest, the butterflies now replaced with wasps that stung at his stomach. When he turned back towards his friend, he crumbled.

Daichi's eyes held the same look towards her that Suga's did when he was looking at the stars.

Brighter than the blue sky

After the scene played out before him, he turned back to his locker and angrily shoved his shoes into the compartment. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he heard Michimiya say a small and polite 'Hi Daichi' in his direction. Suga hung his head in sorrow.

'Why can't you just look at ME that way?' He despaired, slamming his locker shut and walking quickly to his class, ignoring the confused shouts from his bestfriend.

She's got you mesmerized,

Suga had sat at his desk trying desperately to pay attention to whatever the teacher was lecturing about, but he couldn't. His brain was running at a quick pace, replaying the look Daichi had in his eyes over and over again. It was like his own personal broken record, one that made his gut clench every time it scratched and replayed.

'How could I have been so naive?' He thought, holding his shaking hands in his lap to keep from drawing attention to himself. He kept his eyes locked onto his paper in an attempt to calm himself down.

It hadn’t worked.

But just as Suga thought he was going to explode, a small piece of paper was slid onto his desk. He shakily lifted a hand up to grab the folded sliver of paper and opened it as quietly as he could. Suga let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he re-read the words written on the paper.

'Breathe. I'm right here if you need me. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face. ~Asahi'

He had given a grateful smile to his long-haired friend and received a small one in return. Asahi was right, he needed a small break. Just a small break to clear his mind. Suga walked to the bathroom, making his way over to the sink where he cupped his hands under the cold rush of water from the tap. He splashed the water onto his face, relished in the contrast between it and his burning face.

He backed away from the sink after turning off the tap, resting his back against the wall of one of the stalls. As much as he wanted to stop thinking about him, that one night couldn't stop replaying in his head. He laced his fingers into his hair and slightly pulled, the pain barely being felt as he was pulled deeper into heartbreak.

While I die.

He dug his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the overflowing of tears as he replayed what happened that night again in his head.

**flashback**

Daichi and Suga made their way down the sidewalk. They always walked each other home, but tonight was different. Sorrow, despair and defeat hung in the air around the two. They had been defeated by Aoba Johsai today in the Inter High Prelims. As third years, and more importantly to Daichi as their captain, they felt as though they had let the team down.

Not a word was spoken between the two, the only sound coming from the footsteps on the pavement. Suga felt horrible-hell, he felt like the world was hitting him with bricks. There were no words that could console him, or Daichi for that matter. All he could do was try to be consoling with his presence. He felt useless.

Suga had his head hung low, eyes unfocused onto his steps. It was like he wasn't even there, just a body moving at an automated pace. He snapped back into reality as he walked straight into Daichi's slightly taller figure. He raised his head for the first time since they left the bus stop, eyes wandering up towards where his best friend stood in front of him.

"I don't deserve to be captain.”

Suga's heart broke hearing the sorrowed tone of Daichi's voice. He sounded like his heart had been ripped from his body. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, Suga turned Daichi around to where they stood face to face. What he saw made new fresh tears spring to his eyes.

Daichi's eyes were red and swollen, tears slipping down his face silently as he looked at Suga in despair. The shorter third year immediately flung his body into the brunette's chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"You are the most humble, self-sacrificing and encouraging person I know, Daichi," Suga said, sniffling as tears spilled from his eyes onto the captain's shirt. "You have done so much for the team. You are the most deserving person of the title 'captain', so don't you ever let those words come out of your mouth again," he added on, tilting his head up to look Daichi straight in the eyes as he said the last sentence.

Suga bit his lip to keep from audibly sobbing as he looked into the older boy's eyes, meaning every word that he said. The flutters were there again in his chest, but he payed no mind.

Until Daichi pressed his lips onto his.

**end of flashback**

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty."

Suga had whispered the words into the air, finally saying out loud what he had been thinking. The words felt like they hung in the air, suffocating him as he tried shake them away. He took a couple of deep breaths, deciding that acting this way was no good. If Daichi had liked him back, then he wouldn't be looking that way towards Michimiya. Plain and simple. He had to come to terms with that.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt him any less.

The bell rang outside, signaling that the previous period was over. Suga had exited the bathroom after checking his reflection on the mirror, wincing at his red, puffy eyes. 'Oh well,' he thought, trudging back to his class to get his bag and books.

"Hey Suga, I figured that you would be in there for a little while so I grabbed your things," Asahi said, giving him a small look of sympathy as he handed Suga his things. He gratefully took them from the ace's hands, muttering a small 'thank you' as he turned away from him.

"Are you okay, Suga?" Asahi questioned, the worry prominent in his tone. Suga winced at the question, not wanting to lie to his friend but also not wanting to make him worry more than he already was.

"Ah, um... I'm okay. Thank you for checking on me," He said, lifting his head up to give the taller boy an award-winning fake smile. If Asahi didn't believe his facade, he didn't comment on it. He just simply nodded and walked alongside Suga to the roof where they ate lunch together as a group.

When they had arrived, the one person Suga was planning on avoiding greeted them with a cheery smile. He felt his heart clench in his chest, looking downwards towards his feet as he grabbed the bento he made out of his bag. He sat down away from Daichi, making the older boy shoot him a questioning look that Suga ignored.

The door slammed open as the two rambunctious second years made their appearance. Noya immediately pounced on Daichi, yelling incoherent sentences as he grabbed his shoulders and slung him around.

"Can you please slow down so I can understand you?" Daichi said, struggling to pry Noya off of his shoulders.

"Okay, okay, okay, explain to me what is going on between you and Yuu Michimiya?" Noya said, a smirk prominent on his face as he questioned Daichi. Suga felt his heart sink. He didn't want to hear this, he really, really didn't. Just seeing her in the same jacket he wore that night made him want to puke.

"Nothing is 'going on' between us," the captain said, using air quotations with his fingers to signify the ridiculousness of Noya's question.

"You gave her your sweater,"

Tanaka butted in, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the brunette, who now had a faint tint of red covering his cheeks. Suga put down the piece of food he was about to put into his mouth, suddenly losing his appetite completely. His gut was wrenching in pain from the conversation he was hearing, the urge to run away becoming stronger with every passing moment.

"It's just polyester,"

Daichi finally said, making Suga's eyes snap in his direction. He couldn't believe what he had just heard.

‘It’s just polyester.’ Suga had thought incredulously, tears springing to his eyes as that broken record played over and over again in his mind.

He had decided he couldn't handle Noya and Tanaka teasing Daichi about his crush. Shoving his partially eaten bento box back into his bag, Suga practically bolted towards the door of the roof. He ignored the confused calls of his friends, slamming the door behind him. His breathing quickened with each stair he clambered down, tears blurring his vision the farther he distanced himself from the roof.

When he reached the bottom floor, Suga collapsed onto the floor under the stairs, hiccuping into his sleeve as he cried for what felt like the 10th time that day. 'It's just polyester? What the hell does he mean by that-did he even mean what he said to me?'

The thoughts going through Suga's head made him dizzy, his chest felt like a hole had been punched through it. What if he really didn't mean what he had said to him? His fist grabbed at the material of his shirt above his heart. 'No, he kissed me. That couldn't have meant nothing to him...'

Squeezing his eyes shut, hands starting to violently shake as the realization of his situation hit him like a ton of bricks.

But you like her better

Why did this have to happen to him? Why? Why did his heart have to choose the one person he could never have? Why couldn't he be the one Daichi was mesmerized by?

I wish I were Heather.

Now as Suga laid on his bed, he was still was broken as he was that day. Everything had gotten progressively worse and worse, leaving him drained day after day. He was unmotivated. Practices were a pain because he couldn't avoid Daichi when he was basically at his side the whole time. He had yet to meet his best friend's eyes since that day on the roof, but the hollow feeling in his chest stayed.

Suddenly the loud ringtone of his phone filled the quiet room, startling him. He begrudgingly shuffled over to his gym bag, fiddling through the items to find the source of the noise. When he found it, he looked at the Caller ID, and his heart sank.

Incoming Call: Daichi Sawamura

He didn't want to talk to him. He had been avoiding him to the best of his ability, so why was he calling him? He took a deep breath, and clicked the accept button.

"Hey, get some clothes on. I'm headed over to your house, I'm taking you to a party. See ya in a few!" Suga tried to tell Daichi there was no way he was going to a party, especially with him, but he heard the 'click' of the call ending. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. A party was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew that when his best friend was set on something, there was nothing Suga could say or do to stop him.

He groaned, wiping his hands down his face. 'Let's just get this over with.'

Opening his closet to pick out some different clothes to change into, he decided to just put on some darker jeans, a plain lavender t-shirt, and a black zip-up hoodie. He had no desire to look good; After all, the only person he wanted to look at him was out of the picture.

As he tied the laces on his shoes, he heard the front door open. "Suga! Let's go! Kuroo called and told me the party already started!" Daichi yelled from downstairs, making Suga groan. He was definitely dreading this. He made his way down the stairs and passed Daichi who was standing right outside the door.

"You ready?" He questioned, not receiving an answer. Suga walked straight by him, rolling his eyes as he closed the door behind him. Daichi looked at him questioningly, not knowing why he was giving him the cold shoulder. They got into the car in silence, reminding Suga of the day after the Sejoh match. He shuddered, not wanting to play through that memory again. The pieces of his heart had yet to be mended, but despite that he felt the little flutters in his chest that he now hated.

He hated that he still felt the same way after all this time. He was still in love with Daichi, even after knowing that Michimiya was the one he longed after.

Suga sighed, putting his hands into his pockets as the house came into view. "You know what?" Suga started, still looking ahead at the road. "What?" Daichi questioned, happy that his best friend was finally talking to him after what had seemed like forever.

Suga faltered. He really didn't know where he thought he was going with this conversation.

'Did you really think that telling him now would be a good idea? Wow, you really are pathetic,'

He clenched his fists in his pockets. He wanted to tell Daichi how much pain he was in, how much he wanted him. But he couldn't.

"Nevermind," he finally muttered out, getting out of the car and walking up the steps to the house, opening the door. He heard Daichi sputter out a response, ultimately snapping his mouth shut when he realized Suga wasn't going to listen. The setter was greeted with loud music and the strong smell of alcohol and sweat. He spotted Kuroo and Bokuto in the living room playing beer pong against Terushima and Iwazumi.

"Hey hey hey!" Bokuto yelled as he saw the two walk in the door, Daichi giving him a bro hug and Suga giving him a small wave. "What's up guys? Here, have a drink," Terushima said, holding out two cups filled with god knows what to the two.

Suga politely declined his offer, while Daichi took one of the cups. In a moment Kuroo had taken the other cup out of Terushima's hand and chugged it, yelling afterwards.

'I already want to leave'

Suga walked over to a more secluded place in the house. He closed his eyes for a moment, the booming music reverberating through his ears. As he opened his eyes, he locked onto two figures sitting on the couch.

Watch as she stands with her holding your hand

Suga's world crashed down yet again. He watched as Micimiya sat down on the couch and reached over to hold Daichi's hand, giggling as he said something to her.

Put your arm round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

Daichi placed his arm around her shoulder, making a small, giddy smile grace her features. Suga crossed his arms over his body, wishing he could just disappear. It was enough just knowing that they were together, but actually seeing them act like a couple right in front of his eyes caused the pain in his chest to grow tenfold. The room felt like it was closing in on him, making his breaths become shallower.

He glanced back up at the two, cringing again as he noticed the jacket she was wearing. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to so bad, but he just couldn't. Yuu Michimiya was no doubtedly perfect. Short, athletic, and beautiful. How could he beat that?

But how can I hate her? She's such an angel.

He grit his teeth together in anger, tightly gripping the material of his shirt in his fingers. Even if she was perfect in every way, he couldn't help himself from imagining what his life would be like if Yuu Michimiya just didn't exist.

But then again, kinda wish she were dead

Suga barely noticed a presence beside him as he was lost in his own thoughts. "Hey Mr. Refreshing," the figure said in a sing-song voice, and Suga didn't need to look to know who the voice belonged to. "Hello Oikawa,” he breathed out, resting his head onto the wall behind him. He couldn't help but let his eyes trail back to the two on the couch.

He noticed Oikawa settle back onto the wall beside him. The great king followed Suga's eyes until he understood what was making his fellow setter so upset. Suga watched as Michimiya said something to Daichi and rose from her sitting position on the couch.

As she walks by,

Suga couldn't help the sneer that overcame his face as she walked in front of the two, eyes staring at the jacket wrapped around her small body. Oikawa chuckled a little, watching as Suga practically killed the girl with his eyes.

"What are you laughing at?" Suga snapped out, looking annoyingly at the cocky setters face.

"What a sight for sore eyes,"

"Shut up Oikawa," he said, rolling his eyes. He started to walk away but a hand snatched out and grabbed his wrist.

"Here, drink this. It'll help you feel better," the brunette said, holding out a red solo cup just as Terushima previously had before. Suga contemplated it, mumbling a 'fuck it' and downing the bitter liquid in one go. He coughed a little and whiped his mouth, sighing as he felt the alcohol make it's way through his body.

Brighter than the blue sky

He deserved a drink. He deserved to be relieved of this hollow feeling in his chest. If getting drunk meant that he could forget Daichi, that his mind would stop playing that broken record over and over again, that those stupid flutters would go away, then getting drunk it was.

She's got you mesmerized,

"Come with me," Oikawa suddenly said, grabbing Suga's forearm and pulling him in the direction of a flight of stairs. The grey-haired boy sputtered out some words of confusion, but Oikawa still walked at a fast pace up the stairs, not faltering for a second to answer his questions.

Oikawa opened the door to what Suga decided was a bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind them when they entered. "Oikawa, what are we doing up h-"

He was cut off mid-sentence by Oikawa forcefully pressing his lips onto his.

While I die.

Suga placed his hands on Oikawa's chest, pushing him off of himself. "What are you doing?" He sputtered out, looking incredulously at the taller boy. Oikawa stepped closer to him, making Suga take a step back, his back hitting the door they just came in. The brunette placed his right leg between Suga's, bending down slightly to look him in the eyes.

"I know you're in pain. I can see it in your eyes," he said, reaching up to cup Suga's cheek in his palm, "let me help you forget, even if it's just for a little bit," he whispered, lips lightly grazing over Suga's.

He didn't have the chance to speak before Oikawa's lips were back on his, but this time, he didn't push him away. Instead he kept his hands on the taller boy's chest, slowly moving his lips along with his.

Why would you ever kiss me?

'Maybe he's right, I just need to let him help me,' Suga thought as his hands ran through Oikawa's hair, tugging at the strands lightly.

I'm not even half as pretty,

Oikawa licked Suga's bottom lip, asking for permission before letting his tongue slip into Suga's mouth. The shorter boy ignored the fact that he didn't once feel the flutters in his chest whenever Oikawa kissed him.

'This is the only way to get over him, you saw her down there! She was wearing his jacket, he's not yours,'

You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester,

Oikawa moved down from his lips to place sloppy kisses onto his neck, leaving Suga to take in deep rugged breaths. In his gut he knew this was wrong, so wrong, but the need to forget his sorrows overpowered that gut feeling. Daichi didn't like him, and here Oikawa was, offering to help him.

But you like her better,

Suga let out a slight moan as he felt Oikawa's hands slip under his shirt, hot fingertips running over his body left goosebumps in their wake. He closed his eyes, trying to relish in the feeling of the hot kisses the brunette was placing on his torso, but before he knew it, he imagined Daichi was the one kissing him.

“If you want me to stop I will.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Keep going, please.”

Suga didn't realize his phone was buzzing over and over again with texts from his best friend, asking where he was.

I wish I were Heather.

Downstairs, Daichi sat on the couch with his phone is his hands. Suga wasn't responding to any of his texts, making him worried. One second he was standing against the wall talking to Oikawa, and the next they were both gone. Daichi glanced over as Tanaka sat next to him, muttering a simple 'hi'.

"Hey Daichi, where's Michimiya?" Tanaka questioned, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was too worried about whether Suga was okay, contemplating going to look for him.

He shrugged his shoulders in response to Tanaka's question, not really concerned at all as to where the girl was.

Right as he was about to get up and search for the missing setter, he appeared in front of him. Suga had his eyes downcast, grey hair hanging in front of his eyes.

"Can we leave?" Suga questioned, his voice quiet.

"Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride was silent. Suga was looking out the window at the night sky, the stars still shining bright as they made their way down the road.

He felt numb.

He still hadn't processed what happened with Oikawa, feeling that it was better to just act like it never happened. But that hollow feeling was still ever-present.

"Alright, talk," Daichi suddenly said, making Suga jump slightly, "You've been acting weird, so what's up?"

Suga felt his heart drop. Daichi had noticed his behavior towards him. Inside his head he was panicking, breaths quickening as he kneaded his hands together. Taking a deep breath, he finally decided to say what was on his mind.

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty,"

The night after the Sejoh game flashed in his mind.

"You gave her your sweater,”

he scoffed a little, adding

“It’s just polyester,”

As Daichi listened to the words he immediately pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car.

He turned to look at Daichi, tears now silently spilling down his face.

"But you like her better,"

He looked down at his hands, feeling defeated.

"I wish I were-"

His sentence was cut off as Daichi placed a hand under his chin, kissing him deeply. His eyes widened for a moment, slowly closing as he melted into the kiss.

Daichi pulled away after a moment, wiping Suga's tears away from his cheeks, his own fresh ones sliding down his face.

"I'm so sorry Suga. I had convinced myself you would never feel for me the way I did for you. Michimiya was a distraction, a horrible one at that.”

Daichi paused to wipe his tears, thumb hovering lightly over Suga’s cheek.

“I should have told you about my feelings instead of being a complete douche,” he said, the two laughing lightly at the comment.

“Yea, you should have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Can I be forgiven?”

“Only if I get that jacket back.”

Suga genuinely smiled for what felt like the first time in months. Daichi put his lips to his again softly. “Of course. It was always yours to begin with anyway.”

[binniedeactivated]

the sun also rises. || taehyun🌪

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[@𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆] 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇...

tw:// slight violence

                                           EVICTION NOTICE:

Dear Tenant, 

you are hereby given an eviction notice and notice to vacate the premise within 30 days. 

The reason for this eviction notice is: 

(x) Your failure to pay rent due in arrears. A demand for payment was made, and you have refused to forward the necessary funds to pay for the rent during this period.

You are hereby notified that if you make all outstanding payments before the date of eviction, you will be able to remain in the premises as long as you continue to pay your rent.

taehyun wanted to just rip the paper in half and act like he never saw it. that it never existed even. he sighs to himself in utter stress wondering where the hell he went wrong and what could he possibly due to fix it. 

“what’s that?”. he heard a voice behind him question and he immediately turns around a hides the notice behind his back. “it’s nothing”. he answers in utter fear. she was drunk and he could tell. he could tell this night wouldn’t finish the way he wanted. 

“give me the damn paper taehyun”. she snatches it from him aggressively. taehyun watches her eyes skim through the paper once before she ripped it up and tossed it in his face. her hair was messy, her clothes had stains all over them and it was safe to say she hadn’t looked her best. 

these days, she never looked her best. 

she angrily pointed her finger in taehyun’s face before pushing him backwards into the front door. “you’re such a piece of shit”. she spat. “you call yourself a dad and you can’t even pay rent? what the fuck is the matter with you?”. 

she grasps him by the collar of his shirt. “it isn’t my fault jia--maybe if you helped me with the re--”. she interrupted his sentence by throwing him into the kitchen right beside them. he backs into the table, knocking the glasses right off of it. he winced a little hoping it wouldn’t wake sky. 

“enough with that bullshit. you’re the man of the house. you’re supposed to provide!”. 

“I’ve been trying to look for better jobs trust me I have”. 

“you haven’t been doing shit! look at you. look at us”. she stumbles drunkenly, suddenly laughing hysterically. 

“teen parents. bought this apartment together and now we can’t even afford it! i should’ve known better than to be screwing around with some kid”. she emphasized. taehyun pulls his hoodie back over his shoulders. he was angry--no--taehyun didn’t like to get angry. he was frustrated. 

“I’m doing everything that I can for her. what have you been doing? I can’t remember the last time she’s ever said mommy I love you or mommy I miss yo-”. 

“you shut the fuck up”. she snarls taking a swig of whiskey and approaching him slowly. she reeked of alcohol. “that’s your problem”. she starts, 

“you have a smart ass mouth!”. she throws the whiskey bottle in an attempt to aim for taehyun’s head and misses poorly. It hit the fridge with the loudest shatter it could muster. taehyun’s breathing became heavy as he dodged it. he couldn’t believe the person she became. 

he felt arms groping his leg and he glares down to see his three year old daughter sky, clutching him desperately. her doughy eyes, honey glazed skin, chubby cheeks and lips that created a shape of a heart. her big messy curly hair rubbed against the back of taehyun’s hand. 

“d-daddy are you okay?”. she pouts fearfully. taehyun picks her up and let’s her head rest on his shoulder. “I’m okay baby”. 

jia starts going into a laughing fit again. “so what the fuck are you going to do now taehyun? hm? rent is due and you have nothing”. 

“please. not in front of her”. he spoke in a deliberate tone. she sucks her teeth. 

“she deserves to hear the truth. you hear that sky? your father won’t have enough for us to have somewhere to live next month! I hope your bags are packed!”. 

“you will not belittle me in front of her! I said stop it!”. taehyun projects and she sucks her teeth again. he gave her one last deathly glance before he brought sky into her room. 

he carefully laid her down on her silky pink bed sheets, her head instantly sunk into her pillow. she was sleepy but she was worried about her father. taehyun pulls her blankets over her small frame. she clutches them and looks into his eyes with hope.

“daddy? will we really not have a place to live?”. 

taehyun cups her cheek and kisses it softly. “that’s not true. don’t believe anything that woman says”. she nods attentively. 

“okay”. 

“you try to get some sleep okay? you have school tomorrow”. taehyun combs her hair back before kissing her on her forehead. he turned to leave but he felt her small hand grasp his. 

“daddy can you sleep with me tonight? I’m scared”. 

“you don’t have to be scared alright? there’s no monsters under your bed. daddy got rid of them all”. 

“I’m not scared of the monsters. I’m scared of m-ommy”.she stuttered with her lips quivering, making taehyun’s heart shatter. he slides into the bed beside her and let’s her cuddle his chest gratefully. he was so wrong--so wrong for ever thinking she’d be the perfect mother for his child. but she wasn’t like this three years ago. 

“don’t be scared. daddy is going to protect you, sky”. you uttered which was hard for him to say considering the notice that just arrived at his door. truth be told he didn’t know what he was going to do. he hadn’t even had half the money he owed for rent. 

but he’ll do whatever it takes for his daughter.

[ratchedspeach]

What about Lana Winters reminiscing on Wendy?

Oh so you’re looking for pain tonight, are you little nonnie? Nevertheless, here you are! Also thought you should know I listened to A Burning Hill by Mitski while writing this. Give it a listen, I think it will inform my headspace (-:

I’ll Love The Littler Things

The stairway stands before Lana like a goddamned funeral procession. Dead leaves are strewn across the front porch, and where they do not cover the once whitewashed deck, she can see month’s worth of dirt and grime greying the surface. Wendy hates that. Lana sucks her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on the bits of dried skin she finds until she’s breathing somewhat evenly again.

She’s not able to speak about her in the past tense - not yet. She’s been free of Briarcliff for less than a full day. She’s talked to police officers, doctors, and more nuns than she’d ever cared to encounter. She’s told her story, told Wendy’s story. Still, she can’t speak it into existence for herself, because if she can just preserve that for herself, then the body on Thredson’s floor that she’d wept over and been forced to degrade remains anonymous. If she can talk about it like she’s still here, then maybe when she opens the front door, she’ll be met with the scent of pot trickling through the living room, with The Everly Brothets brother blasting over the record player, and Wendy’s smile that makes her black eyes crinkle.

She isn’t, of course. Stretched before her is the familiarity of a space she no longer recognizes. A chair at the dining table has been knocked over, dried blood and glass litter the hardwood floor, and a curtain has been ripped beyond repair. She fought hard. Lana blinks at a black box on the dining table. She approaches it with bated breath and slow steps until she’s within arm’s reach. Her fingers trace a line in the dust she finds settled atop it, and she clicks the latch.

Inside is a matchbox, some paper, and a distinct plastic bag of green. The weed’s scent is dull with time, and dry to the touch. It crumbles between her fingers, and with it goes Lana’s resolve. Tears push to the forefront of her vision, blearing her sight and mixing with the fine sheen of sweat permeating her cheeks and lower lip. She sucks in a breath and let’s it go too quickly, and then again, and again, until she can’t stop herself from seeing every moment that they had spent in this house; every Christmas they’d spent, every shower they’d shared, every dance they’d danced.

“God, Wendy. Ih-I’m sorry.” She wails, collapsing into a chair. The weed is held tight in her white knuckled grasp, and she clutches it to her chest, buckling at the middle so her forehead is practically touching her knees. Lana doesn’t know how long she cries for, only that it’s dark when she is able to break away from the rememberances.

Wind whips through the shattered glass of a window, and Lana shivers, the hair on her arms prickling. She pockets the baggie deep into her coat. She doesn’t move, not right away. Her time at Briarcliff has made her frail from malnutrition and sheer trauma, and she’s learned the hard way that standing too quickly usually sends her toppling over again. When she finally does stand, she’s not sure what for. She can’t bring herself to go to the living room for fear of seeing a photograph of them, can’t even fathom entering their bedroom for obvious reasons. Her fingers tap the cool metal of Wendy’s box, and she pulls it towards herself. It’s left a square spot of clean varnish on the table where it was protected from debris.

Something slams shut as another gust of wind bothers the broken window. Lana yelps, eyes screwing shut as her mind twists reality with the icebox in the basement that was once her prison. She drops Wendy’s box with a clamor, backing against a wall and letting her fingers scrape the wallpaper. Lana finds a light switch before she can allow the darkness permeating the space to play any further tricks on her mind. Warm light pools through the kitchen, accenting the dish left uncleaned in the sink, and the half empty bottle of wine on the counter.

This is all wrong. She shakes her head. All fucking wrong. She shouldn’t be here, not without Wendy. It feels like she’s trespassing on abandoned property; Lana supposes she is to some extent. The place had sat vacant for so long, a sort of limbo between the love and destruction that had taken place here. She wonders what she had been doing when Bloody Face found her. If she had died here, or if he’d waited until he had her in the basement. If he’d touched her here, if he’d -

“No.” She commands, electricity buzzing in her ears. She will not think of this, not here, not now. Not until she can bury Wendy, and give her the dignity she deserves. Thredson had taken enough from her, he would not take up any more space in her mind.

Exhaustion rattles through Lana’s system. She realizes she hasn’t eaten all day, but she can’t bring herself to open the fridge (she doubts there’s anything edible after so many months, anyway).

Everything reminds her of Wendy, but nothing makes her feel close to her. With the understanding that she is stuck living with the pain crackling through her chest, she makes her way up the stairs to the bedroom they once shared. There’s a set of pajamas draped on Wendy’s side of the bed. Lana perches next to them, fingers hovering just above the clover green material. She lies on her side, and her palm rests against the silk. The bed doesn’t smell like her anymore. Lana feels a damp spot forming on the comfertor beneath her.

When she wakes up, she’s still clutching Wendy’s pajamas like it’s a child’s security blanket. Lana rubs the last of the sleep from her eyes and cringes when her back protests as she sits up. Her head throbs, her muscles ache, Lana hasn’t looked in a mirror for months; she’s not sure exactly how long. She had caught glimpses of herself in the treys at Briarcliff’s bakery, or the various metal surfaces in Therdson’s factory of death, but nothing more. Her curiosity gets the best of her, and she pushes off the bed towards the bathroom.

The mirror presents her with a person she does not recognize. The rose of her cheeks is gone, replaced by gaunt cheekbones and a protruding jawline. Bruises and cuts litter her face and neck - some new, some fading. Her eyes are dull, her hair is brittle, her lips are chapped. Something catches the corner of her vision in the mirror, a flash of jet black hair.

“Wendy.” She breaths, spinning fast enough to create specks of black in her vision. Lana blinks hard, bracing herself against the bathroom sink. As her eyes refocus, she realizes the folly of her error. “You better get used to this.” I won’t. I can’t.

It’s just barely dawn. The sun rises against the brisk fall weather in hues of orange and yellow. Clouds streak the sky, and it reminds her of fire and smoke.

They used to lie out in the grass naming the shapes of clouds. Lana had always found it juvenile, but Wendy loved it. She would lie with her legs crossed, squeezing her hand and pointing whenever she saw something in one of them. Lana remembered spending more time looking at Wendy than the sky. There, hidden by the shrubbery on the perimeter of their property, they were secluded from the rest of the world. She could kiss Wendy in the grass, trace her cheek, and rest her head atop her chest.

Lana doesn’t know she’s outside until the last of the memory fades behind her eyes. She sits down, fingers tracing the dead grass. The dry earth tickles the back of her neck and head when she lies down. She watched the clouds and tries to name a few, ignoring the tears streaking freely down her cheeks in rivulettes.

She hears Wendy’s voice in the wind, feels her presence in the grass next to her, and she aches.

[seokoloqy]

Play Pretend | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: jungkook x y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, angst, soccer player!jk, fake dating!au, f2l

➳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

➳ WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, minor violence, not rlly fingering but fingering ig, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

➳ SUMMARY: walking under ladders, splitting the pole, breaking mirrors, going near black cats—just to name a few things Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do before his soccer games.

And after Jungkook catches his girlfriend cheating on him, he’s going to need a little more than luck to get her back. He needs you.

➳ A/N: it’s been a long time coming but she’s finally done!! Everyone say thank you to Jane (@perfectlylmperfekt) for kicking my ass every day and making sure I was writing

—

As rain batters against the windows, your cat saunters up to your lounging figure. He rubs against your blanket-covered legs, begging for attention and belly rubs. You set aside the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to run your cold hands across his back, enjoying his satisfied purrs as you coo, “are you bored too, Pitch?”

The cat you brought home from the shelter has become your best friend. He’s always there for you whenever Jungkook isn’t around and you’re grateful for his companionship. No matter how many times Jungkook begs you to get rid of him because of his superstitions, you refuse. Pitch is family now and there’s no way you’re giving him away because Jungkook thinks he’s bad luck.

The reruns of your favorite television show have been on since you got back from class and all you’ve done is lay around eating junk food. You’d be hanging out with your roommate, Jungkook if he weren’t already at his girlfriend’s house for the night. For now, it’s just you, Pitch, and one too many Oreos.

You hear the sound of your front door unlocking and a disgruntled sigh. The door slams shut and Pitch jumps off your lap, bolting across the floor and slinking back into your bedroom.

“Back already?” You call out to your roommate, who made an unexpected return. Jungkook told you he’d be back tomorrow, you were expecting the apartment all to yourself.

He doesn’t respond, the sound of his squelching footsteps across the wooden floor make your head turn. You’re surprised to be greeted with his shaggy, dripping hair and soaked clothes, grey sweater clinging to his skin as he stares dejectedly off into space.

“What happened to you?”

“I caught Sooyoung cheating on me and we lost the match,” he mumbles.

Jungkook sighs, flinging his duffle bag to the ground as he drags his feet over to you. Falling back onto the couch with his legs dangling over the armrest, he looks up at you hovering over his face, distraught by his confession.

“You okay?” You ask, trying to sound supportive.

He gives you an incredulous look, “I lost the match and my girlfriend cheated on me! I’m not okay at all!”

You raise your hands in surrender, “It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s just one match and it’s her loss.”

“But she was my good luck charm,” he pouts, turning on his side to face the television.

Ever since they started dating, he’s won every game and somehow he’s convinced it’s her that helped him win. Though you only believe it’s just luck that he happens to win every time she’s there. She’s like a lucky pair of socks he needs for every game.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into the cushions and huffing, “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re a good player all on your own. Standing on the sidelines waving around some poster doesn’t correlate to you winning every time. You’ll do great with or without her.”

“No,” he stubbornly says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need her.”

“How ‘bout I go with you for your next game?” you suggest, reaching over to grab your melting tub of ice cream. “I bet you’ll still win even without your lucky charm.”

“But you hate watching my soccer matches.”

“It’s just one game. How bad can it be?” You shrug, dangling the tub of ice cream over his face. “Now, eat this, it’ll make you feel better.”

—

“Where’s the cereal?”

“Huh?” you hum, snapping out of your reverie. He’s already wearing his purple jersey, lacing up his cleats, and waving around a box of cereal. Usually, you aren’t awake when he leaves for games, busy catching precious hours of sleep instead of waving him off.

However, your attention is focused on the tendrils of black ink crawling up his thigh beneath his shorts. You’re not very familiar with the tattoo, having only seen it once when he first got it. He had flashed his thigh to you unexpectedly with the flower patterns swirling up his leg and disappearing past the black fabric of his ridden up shorts. You’d turned away, refusing to look at his exposed leg, afraid of where the ink ended. Maybe it stops right above the hip bone, nearing mouthwatering territory. You regret not stopping to admire it now, dreamily eyeing the marks peeking from underneath the black nylon material.

“The cereal—there’s no more.” He shakes the empty carton, bringing your attention to him and raising an eyebrow. “Did you eat it all last night while I was gone?”

You scoff, lifting your hand to your chest and feign offense, “No, I would never eat your bland and healthy cereal.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a black creature creeping towards the countertop, jumping up and edging towards you. “Oh, Pitch!” you squeal, running your hand over his fur.

“Argh! Get that cat away from here. That thing is bad luck.” Jungkook backs up from the countertop, pressing himself against the stove, nails digging into his palms.

“In some cultures, black cats are considered good luck,” you state, playing with Pitch’s clawing pink paws. “Your fear of him is irrational. Besides, how can you be afraid of him? He’s so cute,” you coo, tickling his stomach.

“I’m not afraid of your cat. I’d just prefer if it weren’t around me before games.”

“Him, not it,” you correct, watching as Jungkook slowly edges around the stove and moves to the fridge.

“Whatever, just keep it away,” he dismisses, turning his back towards you to open the fridge and rifle through its contents of healthy options.

He seems fine, considering what happened yesterday. Still superstitious as always. But you’re wondering how he’s really feeling, hoping he’s not bottling up his emotions until he’s ready to burst.

“So,” you ponder, “have you called Sooyoung yet?”

He shuts the door, leaning his forehead against the cold metal with a dejected sigh, “I mean, we’ve been together for years. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

You nod slowly, muttering, “I guess, but she cheated on you.”

“I know,” he grits his teeth, turning around with a red Gatorade in hand, twisting the lid open and taking a long swig, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, turning your attention to Pitch instead returning his intense gaze lingering on you.

He cocks his head towards the door, “Let’s go.”

You slide off your seat at the island and head towards the door, regretting bringing up his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend. He follows closely behind, unconsciously pressing a gentle hand on your lower back and dragging along his grey duffle bag.

—

The hanging overcast sky brings a cold wind around the field, ripping umbrellas out of hands and blowing away lawn chairs not secured to the ground. As you step foot on the sinking, damp grass, you cringe seeing the underside of your semi-new white shoes become muddy and stained.

Jungkook strides onto the field with no problem, used to the conditions after heavy rain and loving the exhilarating feeling of playing on a damp field.

“It’s freezing out here,” you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to conserve body heat. If you had known it was going to be this cold with the wind whipping about, you would have worn more than a sweater and maybe you would have brought your own chair seeing as the metal benches are still wet from the earlier rain.

Jungkook drops his duffle bag on the bench, shrugging off his thick jacket. “Here, take mine. I don’t need it anyway,” he offers, holding it open to allow you to slip your arms through the sleeves. As he helps you push your arms through the sleeves, his lingering warmth shields you from the cold and he brings his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” You twist to loosen his unrelenting grip on you. “Get off.”

“Not yet, wait till she sees,” he hums patiently, running his nose along the shell of your ear.

“W-What?” You stutter, squirming away from his heated breath puffing across your neck. You scan the crowd of people, spying the crowd for said ‘she.’ As you watch the bleachers a face appears in the stands, gazing down at your awkward position in one another's arms. Sooyoung’s beaming smile fades as she watches Jungkook press a kiss to your cheek and pulls you to his side, casually resting his arm over your shoulder.

While he pretends not to acknowledge her, she gets the message, timidly lowering the hand she almost waved. You can understand why Jungkook wouldn’t want to speak to her, after all, she did cheat on him. But what is he trying to accomplish by holding you so close?

“She’s jealous,” he smirks, “She’ll want me back soon enough.”

You gawk, no longer flattered by his intimate touches.

“Hey, pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s make Sooyoung jealous.”

“How is that a good idea? She cheated on you and you still care about what she thinks?”

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be like revenge.”

“Getting revenge never solves anything. If anything it makes everything worse.” You say, watching Sooyoung continuously glance at the two of you from her seat alone.

“Please? It’s just holding hands and stuff that’s it.”

Holding hands and stuff? Denying that you had a crush on your roommate/friend would be useless. Of course, you like him but pretending to be his girlfriend to get back at his ex? You guess it wouldn’t hurt to help your best friend.

“Fine.”

Jungkook grins, “this is going to be great. Stay here okay and watch me win this then.”

He places a seemingly quick and meaningless kiss on your lips, making sure everyone on the field and off has a chance to see, before dashing off to join his teammates at center field without another thought or explanation. You slowly lower yourself onto the soaked bench, faintly feeling the water seeping into your jeans, but you’re too distracted by the lingering taste of his lips. Your thoughts are a blur of chaos, still reeling from him calling you his new girlfriend and the unexpected kiss—a kiss you can’t wrap your head around.

Are you supposed to feel anything other than butterflies fluttering in your stomach? Why would he kiss you? He just wants to do it for show.

The referee blows on his whistle, starting the match and your gaze follows Jungkook. His determination and focus follow the ball and nothing else like the world falls away.

The ball is passed around and the crowd cheers, but all you can focus on is Jungkook. He runs after the ball, legs pumping across the field. The dark patterns of his orchid tattoo show beneath his shorts with every stride he makes.

Drops of rain begin to speckle your cheeks, you pull up the hood of Jungkook’s jacket. The rain begins to pour, hitting the field and bouncing off the surface. As rain drenches players and audience members alike, the game continues without a pause. Through the haze of water, you can see Jungkook still running despite rain falling in his eyes and his dark bangs sticking to his forehead. The purple jersey clings to the toned muscle beneath, giving you a view of his abs.

Oh man, you’re in trouble.

—

“Hey, wanna watch a-”

You make a beeline towards your bedroom, not wanting to spend another awkward second with him. The door slams behind you just as you hear him call out your name, wondering why you’re avoiding him.

You throw yourself onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows and screaming to release your frustrations. It’s mostly confusion though, you don’t understand anything.

In the hallway, you hear his footsteps walking past your door and you’re afraid he’ll swing your door open and demand you tell him what’s wrong, but the shower turns on instead. You breathe a sigh of relief, rolling over on your bed.

“You don’t just kiss a friend,” you mutter under your breath, talking to no one in particular until you hear a soft ‘meow.’ You’re reminded that Pitch hasn’t eaten yet and you haven’t refilled his bowl. If you get out now, you’ll be able to sneak back before Jungkook gets out of the shower. Peeling yourself off the bed, you peek your head out into the hall. The bathroom door across from you is shut with the melodious sounds of Jungkook’s humming beneath the trickling of water.

Pitch slips out of the room, dashing into the hall and you follow after him. In the kitchen, you grab a can of his favorite chicken flavor food from the cabinet to pour into his metallic bowl. He purrs with delight, picking up his meal.

You leave him to eat in peace, sneaking back to the hall where water has stopped running, but the door is still closed with the fan whirring inside. As you tiptoe towards your door, Jungkook emerges from the steam filled room wrapped in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his skin. It’s not like you haven’t seen anything before. His love for as minimal clothing as possible hasn’t phased you until now.

“Hey,” he greets casually as if nothing has changed. Maybe he doesn’t feel the tension slowly rising between you two, but you’re certainly feeling the repercussions of his kiss. You dodge around him to get to your room, muttering about a paper that’s due soon. Once you’re safely hidden in your room, you breathe a sigh of relief. You know you can’t avoid him forever. It’s childish to just ignore him and not address your problems.

A knock comes from behind your back, Jungkook calls through the door, “Hey, what’s up?”

The door swings open and you stumble away from the door as he pushes his way into your room. His head pops through the crack, peering at you with his brows furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?” he questions innocently, opening the door wider so he can step in.

“No,” you squeak, holding your breath as you notice his towel dip lower around his waist.

“Then what’s wrong? Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Now, get out of my room and put a shirt on please.”

He glances down, slyly returning his gaze back up to you with a smirk gracing his lips. “Oh,” he cocks his brow, “are you blushing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red, Y/N.”

You move to push against his toned chest, forcing him out of your room. “Get out, I mean it, Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, walking backward. “I’m leaving, but if you ever want a taste—”

You screech, slapping his shoulder, “Get out!”

His laugh echoes down the hall as he walks back to his room.

—

“You’re coming to my game next week right?” Jungkook asks over a bowl of soggy cereal, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“No?” You stop petting Pitch focusing on Jungkook.

“What?” His spoon clatters against his bowl as he gives you a dubious look. “But you’re my good luck charm now. We won the last game with you. I need you!”

“I keep telling you—”

“It’s the championships! We can’t lose this.”

You cross your arms with a heavy sigh, ignoring the pleading look he gives you. When will he start to realize he doesn’t need anyone to win?

As you begin to argue with his logic, he interrupts, “I’ll clean out Pitch’s litter box for a month!”

You can’t argue with that. You’d rather sit on a cold bench for an hour or two than clean out the litter box.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“After the championships, I’ll take you out to dinner. There’s this new fancy restaurant-”

“Like… like a date?” You blurt suddenly, interrupting him. You pull Pitch into your arms like he’s your comfort animal, holding him to your chest as you nervously look at Jungkook.

He furrows his brows as if the answer is obvious. He shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, chewing and speaking slowly, “Yeah, I guess… me and Sooyoung were gonna go together, but you know…” A dark look rolls over his expression as he says Sooyoung’s name, recalling her betrayal.

“Oh,” you say, hoping to not sound too disappointed.

“I already made the reservations and there’s no point in letting it go to waste.”  

“Okay, sure.” You hoped he would be interested enough actually take you out because he wants to, not because he has no one else to go with. You don’t know why you feel so rejected.

As you run your fingers through Pitch’s dark fur and watch Jungkook finish off his bowl of cereal, you wonder why he doesn’t seem to care about the other day. He hasn’t mentioned the kiss.

“So, you’re headed off to practice today?”

His purple uniform is laid out on the counter, washed of all the dirt and sweat from the rigorous day before.

“Yeah, wanna come? We can go eat after afterward,” he suggests, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. “I mean, we haven’t hung out for a while.”

He’s right. The last time you both spent a good amount of time together was before he started dating Sooyoung. So you easily agree to his offer, happy to spend more time with him.

—

“You’re late. Laps.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Jungkook drops his bag to the ground, groaning as his coach gives the order and he’s forced to begin jogging around the rectangular white painted field. The rest of his teammates are in the middle of the field doing their usual drills with one another. You linger on the sidelines next to the water cooler like the towel boy dishing out water to every exhausted player that comes by. You don’t mind it though, it’s better than sitting on the bench doing nothing but idle on your phone alone. You like making small talk with his teammates every time they come for a drink.

Jimin seems especially thirsty today, however, taking every opportunity between activities to jog over with a clandestine smile.

“Again?” you laugh, moving to grab a paper cup to fill up for the sixth time.

“Hey,” he whines, gently prying it from your fingers. “You don’t have to pour it for me. I’m not a kid.”

“But there’s nothing else to do! I’ve just been sitting here watching you guys practice like some soccer mom.”

“Soccer moms are hot,” he comments with a simple shrug of his shoulder and a sly smile creeping onto his face.

“Ha-ha,” you mockingly laugh, rolling your eyes.

As Jimin moves to fill his cup beside you, you look over at Jungkook, surprised that he's already looking at you, more specifically at Jimin with an unamused expression. A deep scowl forming across his features. When he starts jogging over you avert your gaze to Jimin chugging down the water he had just filled.

“You’re spending more time with my girl than practicing,” Jungkook snidely comments, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulder to roughly pull him to his side with a fake plastered smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Jimin throws his hands up in surrender sarcastically. “I didn’t know you already got over your ex and started dating Y/N overnight. It takes getting used to.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, pushing a laughing Jimin off him. “You just like getting on my nerves.”

Jimin straightens his uniform, giggling, “Yeah, you’re right, but I also happen to actually like Y/N. I’m just trying to keep her company while you’re ignoring her for practice.”

Just as Jungkook begins to threaten Jimin, their coach blows a whistle, calling them both back over to the field, threatening them with more laps.

As they both jog back, giving playful shoves, you sigh becoming bored again.  

After they’re released from practicing the whole team runs to the water cooler to relax, sighing in relief after grueling drills. Most of them ignore you for their cups of water, but Jungkook and Jimin seem to fight for your attention.

“Are you coming to my house to hang out? The rest of the team is coming.” Jimin asks you and not Jungkook, purposely ignoring him. “It’ll be fun to hang out again.”

He reminds you of the days before Jungkook’s girlfriend when you all would hang out whether it was at Jimin’s apartment or over dinner.

“Sure,” you agree, happy to bond with the boys again.

“You said you were hanging out with me today though,” Jungkook interjects, refusing to let Jimin steal you away from him for the day.

You don’t want to disappoint either of them, deciding on a compromise, “Well we can hang out together at Jimin’s house, right?”

“Great meet you guys there.” Jimin waves as he scoops up his duffle bag and heads towards the car with Hoseok and Seokjin.

—

Jungkook has been glowering for a while now, watching Jimin laugh heartily with his arm wrapped around you. Everyone else seems to notice the tension rolling off Jungkook in waves, awkwardly glancing over at him occasionally but not caring enough to ask what’s wrong.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Yoongi calls from the kitchen, “Come open this jar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, muscle boy, or I’ll have to break it open.”

“Fine,” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the recliner into the kitchen to join Yoongi and Seokjin.

Taehyung sneaks up behind you on the couch, resting his head on his folded hands against the back. “So,” he ponders, “What’s it like being the rebound?”

You’re not sure who gives Taehyung the harsh smack to the head, but he whines and pushes himself up wondering what he did wrong.

He’s right. You are the rebound—fake rebound. It’s bad enough being a rebound but it hurts, even more, knowing that he doesn’t have the same feelings you do because he’s so caught up in trying to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“That’s not what he means, Y/N,” Jimin assures, trying to comfortingly lay a hand on your shoulder to ease your worries away. As much as he tries to help, not even his soothing touch or gentle words can help rid the way you feel about the whole unfortunate situation you find yourself trapped in.

Should you fake break up with him? Tell him it’s over and pretend it never happened? Maybe you should just let this whole charade continue until his ex finally wants him back. If she even wants him back. It’ll be easier for both of you. You won’t have to face him about your feelings and he will get the girl again.

You need to keep up with this whole fake dating charade.

“I’m okay with it,” you say, plastering on a fake smile to convince the boys, mostly Jimin who’s watching you with worry in his eyes. “Really, I am.”

“Dinner is ready.”

Everyone’s head whips to see Jungkook peeking his head out from the kitchen door whose eyes find Jimin’s strewn hand resting over your shoulder and narrowing.

As everyone jumps from their comfortable spot on the couch to scramble into the dining room, Jungkook grabs your arm to pull you back from the group.

“Do you want to go home? We don’t have to eat here.” His eyes dart over to Jimin’s back disappearing with the rest of the boys to eat.

“Why not? We should just stay here.”

“But you look upset.”

You hadn’t realized the look still plastered on your face. He noticed the way your downcast eyes avoid him.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.” You pull yourself away from Jungkook and follow the rest of the boys, ignoring the worried lingering eyes watching you walk away.

—

“Why are you so upset with me again?” Jungkook grumbles, slamming the front door shut behind him. You ignored him the whole time during dinner, even choosing to sit next to Jimin instead. You just didn’t feel right about this whole thing anymore.

“Because you’re such a...”

“Such a what?”

You fall on the couch, slouching into the cushions as he takes a seat next to you. Why doesn’t he see it? He’s blind to how he’s been acting lately. He’s so confusing. He acts as if you’re his real girlfriend, but doesn’t give you any real sign that he actually feels anything.

“You’re just so blind! You make me your fake girlfriend, but it doesn’t feel that way to me!”

“What do you mean? You know this was only to make Sooyoung jealous.”

That’s what hurts. The fact he doesn’t even acknowledge how you could feel.

“You act like some kind of jealous boyfriend when Jimin is around and you were never like that before. It’s just giving me mixed signals. For you maybe it was only about her, but what about me, Jungkook? What about how I feel?”

“And what do you feel?” He crosses his arms defensively, trying to figure out what you mean.

“I-I…” You can barely get the right words out, afraid of their consequence. If you don’t say the words now, you’ll be stuck. “I like you! More than you think. I like you more than a friend or roommate should and you’re just so blind!”

It feels better as the weight is lifted off your shoulders, but the longer you watch Jungkook’s expression simmer with confusion, the more you feel that pressure returning. He’s still so hung up on his ex, so what makes you think he’ll return your feelings? He did all this—pretended to have a fake girlfriend—just to make her jealous and get her back.

“I’m sorry I did this to you. I still have feelings for her, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

His hand slides onto your leg, firmly gripping the jean-clad thigh in an attempt to comfort you, not knowing what else to do. Your downcast eyes find their way to the black tattoo peeking from underneath his shorts, trailing and twisting a complicated path upwards to territory unknown.

“So does that mean you could feel the same?” You swallow thickly. You’re stuck, wallowing in self-pity and the uncontrollable urge to just kiss him and hope that he’ll change his mind about everything. That just one kiss could change your relationship and you’ll have everything you want. It’s pitiful to think a measly kiss could change anything between you, but why not be daring? Why not be bold and go for it?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Then do you,” you lick your lips, “want to find out?”

You begin to lean into him unconsciously letting your body make the first move. It’s just a kiss, right? When he kissed you on that soccer field everything seemed to change for you.

Your hand reaches the nape of his neck, slowly intertwining timid fingers with the dark, silky strands of hair, daring to brush your nose against his. Breathless—the air leaves your lungs with each centimeter your lips get closer.

“Y/N…” he murmurs just inches away from you, inches away from crossing an unspoken line of friendship.

As soon as your lips lock something more than friendship ignites. The warmth passing throughout your body is something more than the tingle of first kisses and innocent butterflies dancing around your stomach.

Jungkook’s hand moves from your thigh, sliding up to latch around your waist, pulling you forward until your chests press against one another. It’s like a spark has lit between you two, creating an irresistible pull to cling onto one another desperately.

His lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing every inch of exposed skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over your body, arching further into him for more. “J-Jungkook,” you moan as he pushes you back to lay flat against the couch.

He hovers over you, kneeled between your parted thighs, dark bangs brushing over his crescent lids and nearly shielding the hungry gaze in his eyes. Fingers teasingly circle the button of your jeans as his gaze flickers between wary and lustful. Jungkook cocks his head before asking, “You want this?”

Without a voice, you nod your response, hoping it’s enough to ease him.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, yes, I want this, Jungkook,” you whine, gripping his forearm with one hand to move him against your jeans again.

Your verbal confirmation allows Jungkook to finally move to unbutton your jeans, shoving his hand into your pants without hesitation. He’s eager now, not even waiting until you can get your pants off fully. Easily, he finds your clit and begins to rub in slow, languid up and down motions to draw out a pretty moan from your lips. He cracks a grin hearing those little whimpers and feeling your legs curl around his thighs from the pleasure he bring you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the cushions when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck off your juices. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac that is you.

You lift your hips off the couch to press yourself into his erection, grinding against the loose material of his soccer shorts, feeling the hardness of his cock laid on your stomach. You tremble with anticipation as he pulls down your jeans, staring at your exposed cunt.

“God,” he groans, sliding himself down your body until he’s level with your pussy. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping.”

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, “f-fingers.”

“Fingers or my dick first? Because you’re coming on both tonight.”

If your mouth wasn’t already hanging open from his fingers sliding up and down your folds, it would be now.

You gasp when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers claw at his shoulders between your thighs. “I just want you. I want all of you.”

“Shit, I don’t think I want to wait. Just ride me now.”

Jungkook pulls himself away from your core, pulling his jersey over his head and his soccer shorts down. As he slings his clothes aside and relaxes against the couch, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You’re really going to have sex with your roommate/best friend. This is either the biggest mistake of your life or the greatest turn of events. The muscles in your arms stiffen as you grip his shoulders for stability.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and pushing back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “We both want this, right?”

You nod, biting down on your lower lip before aligning with his cock.

He’s right. You want this as much as he does. You trust him—love him.

As your dripping folds brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively lower yourself further, taking the rest of him in swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick, has you moaning out his name, gasping for air, “Mhm, Jungkook.”

You rock your hips into him, already feeling yourself tightening and clenching. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full.

Jungkook takes your hips, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, causing you to scream.

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into the cushions and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clench shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax. Jungkook’s finger slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you gonna come?” He asks, breathlessly, pulling his head forward to kiss your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises against your skin.

“Y-Yes,” you pant, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good. ”

At this point whatever tumbles out of your mouth is just unfiltered thoughts.

“Then come,” he moans against your neck, “Come all over my cock.”

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive mound is all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure. Your legs tighten around Jungkook’s waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him.

Not long after, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally maxed out, you feel him going soft inside you. Jungkook slowly slips himself out, careful not to let any of your juices drip onto the couch by stuffing two fingers into you and plugging you up.

You let out a little whine, “Ah, wh-”

“This couch was expensive,” he chuckles, “We don’t need any stains.”

“Well, who told you to buy the expensive couch?”

“I know a better place where we can make a mess.”

Just as Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist to hoist you up from the couch, there is a small knock on the door. Both your heads turn, afraid it might be your neighbors with a noise complaint.

“Jungkook?”

It’s Sooyoung’s voice.

“What is she doing here?” You ask, not realizing how shaky your voice sounds. Fuck, she isn’t supposed to be here. Not now.

“I don’t know, but don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Meet me in my room. I’ll take care of you right after,” he winks, slipping his fingers out of you and licking up both your arousals off his fingers.

You giggle, “Okay, hurry up then.”

Maybe he really has gotten over her, you can’t help but feel the giddy sense of joy as you scurry to his room, looking over your shoulder to see him throw back on his soccer uniform and fix his hair.

You run into his room, throwing yourself onto his bed and spreading your body out on the sheets, grinning happily to yourself. What a dream—you can hardly believe it. Could this be the start a new relationship between the two of you?

Voices raise in the living room, you catch a faint word of Jungkook and Sooyoung’s conversation.

“...me back…”

“... still in love…”

“...can’t… somewhere…”

You lay in Jungkook’s bed, completely naked and vulnerable, waiting for him to come back for what feels like hours. You’re curious. What are they talking about for so long? Jungkook said he’d be quick to shoo her away. Worry begins to set, and a sense of doubt starts to plague your mind. What if…?

You slip out of his bed and tiptoe down the hall to your room to grab something to cover yourself up.

As soon as the fluffy, white robe is wrapped around you, you skip back out into the hall and peek over to see what you suspected all along.

You’re trembling—sick to your stomach—watching as Jungkook wraps a strong arm around her waist to pull her in. His lips are pressed against hers. That kiss is no mistake. He still loves her. It’s clear nothing between you two has flourished into anything you’d hoped for, instead it comes crashing all around you into dust.

You wonder if she can taste your arousal on his lips still lingering after he finished with you. How can he kiss her so passionately when those same lips were on you just moments ago?

You’re foolish to believe that one night could change anything. He said he still had feelings for her. They were together for years. It’s not so easy to forget your first love.

The burning tears that well up in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, protecting yourself, begin to fall.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper. Even if you screamed it, it seems as if that wouldn’t break up the couples’ passionate reunion.

You find yourself laid in bed, curled up with an emptiness in your stomach, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. You should clean up. Wash away traces of him on your body, get rid of whatever he touched.

You force yourself out of bed, across the hall, glancing over at the front door to find the two nowhere to be found. They left? He left? Jungkook fucks you and leaves right after as if him kissing his ex wasn’t a hard enough pill to swallow.

The scorching water isn’t enough to clean away how you feel. Such a sinking feeling isn’t easy to scrub away no matter how many time you claw your hands over those marks he left you, hoping the traces of him will disappear.

Once you’re out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and laid back in bed, curled into a ball, you scroll through your phone to distract yourself. Somehow your thumb finds Jimin’s phone number. You bite your lip, wondering whether or not you should message him. You just want someone to talk to—someone to hold.

[You - 11:36 PM] hey

You lay your phone down, hoping for a quick response. You idly drum your fingers against your sheets, resisting the urge to cry again as your thoughts are muddled by images of Jungkook and Sooyoung.

[Jimin - 11:39 PM] what’s up? It’s pretty late

[You - 11:39 PM] yeah I guess it is… you’re probably resting before the big game tomorrow… I just wanted someone to talk to and you always say you’re here for me

Seconds after sending that message, your phone begins to buzz as a photo of Jimin pops up on your screen.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out croaked, parched because of all the crying you’ve been doing.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds upset, not at you but because he’s worried. At least you know one person cares about you.

“I just feel like an idiot.” Your voice wavers, threatening to choke up again and start to sob. “I just—I want to talk to someone right now.”

There’s silence on the line and then the sound of sheets rustling.

“Hello?” You call.

“I’m coming over.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” you stutter, wiping away a stray tear. “The championship is tomorrow. You need sleep.”

“And you need me, so I’m coming.”

It isn’t negotiable for him. He hangs up right after, leaving you to wait for his arrival almost ten minutes later despite living almost thirty minutes away.

Jimin arrives with his hair in disarray, a tee shirt, and pajama bottoms, and his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. You wrap the robe around you tighter, hoping to cover the hickeys along your collar away from sight. He rushes forward without an invitation to envelop you in a comforting hug.

“The fuck happened? Was it Jungkook?”

His questions are drowned out as you allow yourself to ease into him, releasing all the tension you’ve built.

“Don’t talk about him.”

That’s all he needs to know to close his mouth and guide you to the couch, reminding himself to deal with the problem later and comfort you first.

For a while it’s just silence, time ticking away as you sit together in each other’s arms, and then your sniffles, sobs, and tears. They come in waves of different emotions: regret, sorrow, and anger.

“I should have been smarter. I knew he loved her. He said he still had feelings for her! I’m such an idiot!”

“You’re not an idiot. Stop blaming yourself for Jungkook’s mistakes. None of this is your fault, okay?”

“But I shouldn’t have agreed to go along with his stupid plan!”

“Wait, what plan?”

You wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve and sigh, “He wanted to make Sooyoung jealous so she’d want him back, so we pretended to date.”

“He used you?”

You can feel his temper flaring in the way his posture straightens and his hands tighten around your waist.

When the front door creaks open both your heads whip around to find Jungkook sneaking back into the house, freshly disarrayed hair. Once he spots the two of you cuddled up on the couch in each other’s arms, he pauses underneath the door frame as he gapes at your teary, puffy eyes.  

“I can’t believe you,” Jimin sneers, rising off the couch with nothing but contempt written on his face.

“Don’t,” you weakly murmur, pulling on his hand before he can advance any further.

“What are you doing here?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think you can just sleep with Y/N and then go off to fuck your ex who cheated on you?”

Jimin rips his hand from your grasp, unable to contain the anger he’s built up from watching you cry over Jungkook.

Jungkook eases back towards the hanging mirror, raising his hands up as a feeble way to shield himself from the older’s advances. Too afraid of the menacing look in Jimin’s eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have-”

An excruciatingly, sharp crack of bone and flesh connecting and shards of glass shattering, resonating throughout the living room before Jungkook can finish his sentence. Pieces of broken mirror scatter all around Jungkook’s feet along with drops of blood as he curses, sliding to the floor and holding his shoulder.

“Jimin!” You exclaim, rushing from the couch to Jungkook’s side and inspecting his scratched up arm. “Shit, you didn’t need to do that!”

“Maybe I didn’t, but he deserves it,” Jimin spits, refusing to come to Jungkook’s aid.

There aren’t deep shards of glass embedded Jungkook’s arm, it’s just minor cuts scattered across his skin. Thankfully, it’s nothing that calls for serious medical attention.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook chuckles, wincing as his freshly bruised jaw begins to burn as his mouth moves, “That’s like… seven years of bad luck, isn’t it?”

He knows how badly he fucked up and how badly you must hate him now. He doesn’t know what else to say.

You’re in no mood to laugh with him.

“Come on.” You tug on his hands, standing up to help him on his feet. “Get up and put some ice on your face.”

Jungkook wobbles to his feet, cradling his jaw and sidestepping around Jimin who stands firmly in the path leading to the kitchen.

“You can stay at my place tonight if you want,” Jimin offers as soon as Jungkook is out of sight and rummaging for a bag to put ice in, “if you’re not comfortable staying here alone with him.”

“There’s nothing worse he can do now, Jimin,” you sigh, looking around for something to sweep up the glass. You don’t want Jimin hovering over you the whole night, you feel bad enough forcing him out of bed, but it’ll just cause more tension if he and Jungkook stay under the same roof. “You might as well go home. There’s a game tomorrow.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jimin hesitantly says, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You follow after Jimin as he moves to the door. You wave him off and shut the door behind him, letting out a frustrated huff as you look back at Jungkook. He’s is still in the kitchen leaning against the island and tenderly holding an ice pack to his jaw. You don’t know whether to approach him or just walk away, back to your room where you’ll continue to wallow alone.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a pathetic apology, murmured under his breath as you walk past the kitchen. You pause, stepping back beneath the threshold.

“Sorry for what? Sorry that you slept with me or sorry that you took back Sooyoung right after?”

You watch Jungkook wince, not from the throbbing on his cheek but from the harshness of your words. He stares at the floor, not daring to face you.

You leave him behind not bothering to say goodnight.  

—

The morning of the championship game comes too quickly and you still can’t find it in your heart to forgive Jungkook. When you hear the sounds of Jungkook shuffling in the hallway out to the kitchen for his ritual bowl of cereal, his footsteps come to a stop in front of your door.

He hesitates to knock, choosing to stand in the hallway and dejectedly stare at your door. You listen as his footsteps recede. As you silently stare at your bedroom door, wondering if you should go out.

You know you’re supposed to be there for him today as his ‘lucky charm,’ but how are you supposed to crawl out of bed and be there for him when he couldn’t be bothered to stay with you last night?

You curl yourself further into your blankets, shielding yourself from the sounds of Jungkook pouring his cereal, zipping up his duffle bag, shooing Pitch away, then walking out the front door alone.

Once the front door shuts, you pull yourself out of bed, dragging along a blanket over your head and into the living room where you fall on the couch with a defeated sigh. Pitch meows before jumping up to snuggly curl beside your feet.

His game should be ending already and if it were a perfect world you two would’ve been headed to dinner. You bought a dress already, before yesterday, you were counting down the days until the game but now you’re just counting down the minutes that you won’t be. You want to go to dinner, sit and talk, laugh and pretend he didn’t break your heart the night before.

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] we lost the game :/

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] it was my fault rlly… i was distracted. everything is my fault.

[Jungkook - 6:51 PM] will you still meet me for dinner?

You toss your phone aside, leaving his texts unanswered. His last message makes you wonder though. You want to go to a fancy dinner and just pretend for a night that nothing ever went wrong between the two of you. Might as well pretend to get ready, pretend that Jungkook could love you the same way, pretend to be happy.

“Pitch, you love me, don’t you?” You murmur, running your hands along his spine before standing to prepare for what could’ve been a good night.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t love you, it was that he couldn’t love you the same way you did him.

Pitch lets out a content meow, following after you into your bedroom.

You pick out the dress hanging in your closet, laying it down on your bed.

“I’m not going to forgive him so easily, Pitch,” you say as Pitch seems to give you a look saying ‘really?’. “I just want to feel good about myself for once,” you huff. This is all for you. Maybe you'll dress up and stay on the couch all day eating ice cream and watching movies. Fancy dresses don’t have to mean fancy dinner. Fancy dresses are just a confidence booster.

Minutes turn to an hour and you’re finally ready for absolutely nothing—no date, no night out with your friends—just nothing. But you feel good, a little better than before, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“His loss,” you confidently say, trying hard to convince yourself to stay positive.

[Jungkook - 7:32 PM] hey im at the restaurant if you decide to meet me… i really hope you do. Let’s start over.

[Jungkook - 7:35 PM] i’ll wait if thats what it takes.

Reading his texts make you feel guilty for standing him up, but you won’t go. You stay put right where you are, comfortably lounging on the couch with a tub of ice cream and Pitch at your side.

“He’s just going to have to sit there a little while longer.”

When Pitch jumps off the couch running over to his litter box, you sit back with a sigh, playing with the hem of your dress.

When the clock touches half-past eight o’clock, the door unlocks and Jungkook walks through with a bouquet clutched in his hands. He’s as dressed up as you are, wearing a tucked in a white button-up with black slacks. He stops once he sees you, dressed up and alone.

“You look,” he’s awestruck, “beautiful.”

“Thank you… You look good too,” you awkwardly say, eyes darting around to avoid his

“Oh,” he flushes, flattening out the front of his shirt. He realizes the flowers in his hands, holding out to you hesitantly. “I-I bought you flowers.” The scarlet petals almost match the shade of his cheeks as he presents the red flowers wrapped in a thin layer of plastic to you.

You take them from him, running your fingers delicately over the petals.

Glancing over at the purple and black bruise Jimin had given him last night, you almost wince at the sight. “How are you?”

Jungkook grimaces, “I’m okay, I guess. I-I waited for you. At dinner. You never showed so the waiter felt kinda bad for me,” he faintly chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets, “he said I could come back again if ‘my date ever changed her mind’ and let me make a new reservation.”

You nod slowly, twisting the frills of your decorative pillows. It’s just silence, then—

“I was fucking stupid for kissing her,” he admits suddenly, “I swear, I would take it back. I-I just… we were together for a long time. It’s hard to just forget how I feel.”

“So now what?”

“I told her I can’t be with her that’s why I left last night. I… I love you. Let’s start over and let’s do this right.”

The twinge you feel in your chest, the sinking feeling in your stomach, tells you how guilty he really is.

Jungkook rounds the corner of the couch to sit beside you, thighs touching, reminding you of last night. You scoot away, placing the flowers between your bodies to separate yourselves.

“Stop.”

He accepts the distance, not wanting to push you further away.

“I’m sorry. I-I just want a second chance to prove that I do care about you.” The genuine look in his eyes shows you only regret and the promise to make it up.

You look down at the flowers between the two of you, picking at the petals. You don’t want to lose Jungkook as a friend, even if he did break your heart. He will always be your best friend. He wants to make it work, and you want to give him a chance to make it up. Maybe you won’t fully return the feelings that were once there, but you can still make an effort to forgive him.

“Okay. Let’s start over.”

[orionwhispers]

Perfect Places // Steve Harrington

(A/N - yep. this isnt peaky, i know. im taking a little breather so i dont completely burn out writing tommy, but trust me i have 3 wips for him coming soon!! i dont know if any of you guys will like this bc its stranger things and thats ok!! i just had a blast writing it and i love steve and it really challenged me. pls let me know if u like it!! stay safe my loves xxx)

warnings - angst but also so much fluff your teeth will rot 

You felt like the moon was mocking you.

It loomed overhead, round and full and beautiful, the colour of purity and innocence, a beacon of light contrasting against the ink coloured sky. Your face was red hot, streaked with tears that dripped down your nose and collarbone and into your shirt, staining you with sadness that you could feel clawing under your skin.

You were sat on the Byers’ front porch, the sneakers you had once kept so pristinely clean were now caked in mud, your socks soaked through. You felt numb, you ached for something; a familiar lash of anger or heartache, anything to make you feel human again, but you just felt numb.

You could hear clattering from inside the house, low murmurs of voices and whispers tangling together, but you blocked them out like it was just white noise. The steady hum of those you loved and trusted brought some comfort, but that was instantly replaced by longing for the one person who deserved to be there, the person who deserved to still be alive.

You had been ecstatically high on adrenaline, you were terrified but vivacious as you helped bundle your boyfriend and the kids into Hoppers’ car as he raced past the Laboratory’s gates. You remembered the feeling of Steve’s hands around your waist as he pushed you into the back, flustered and protective, determined to get you away from any danger.

You should have said something.

You knew something was wrong, but you kept quiet. The air in the car was thick and dense like smoke, and Hopper was covered in crimson coloured splotches, you noticed the way he didn’t look at you, instead keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. You should have said something, should have asked where your Uncle was, should have demanded an answer, but instead you pushed those thoughts away and watched the road through the windshield until your vision went blurry, Steve’s thumb soothingly rubbing over the top of your hand.

You knew he felt it too.

It was only when you reached the driveway of the Byers bungalow, feet moving on autopilot, tearing through the front door and seeing Joyce waiting for you, tears running down her face as she pulled you into her chest, did you realise the immensity of the situation. You let out a wail that could rival a demogorgon, sinking down into the coarse fabric of her hospital gown, her hands clambering across your frame, desperate to offer any comfort she could.

Steve was beside you in an instant, gripping your elbows to stop you falling onto your knees and onto the shag carpet, cradling you into him like a child. He felt so helpless, not knowing how to ease your pain, words getting stuck in his throat like cotton balls as he watched the girl he loved shatter into pieces. One look at his familiar face contorted in torment and it set you off again, coughing and spluttering like you were drowning in your tears. You pushed the consolatory hands off of you harder than you had intended, feeling suffocated and in desperate need of some form of relief. You were no good to anybody like this, you needed to wallow in your grief alone, Joyce had bigger problems and you refused to drag her down under with you.

You stumbled towards the front door, murmuring “I need some air.” You sank into the darkness like it was an old friend, wrapping your arms around yourself as your head throbbed and pulsed. You let the cold air hit your bare skin and fell to the ground, knees to your chest and silent screams leaving your throat.

Steve ran forward to be by your side, but Hopper pulled him back by the hood of his jacket, a large hand consoling your distraught boyfriend, “Let her go kid, give her a minute.”

He gave you five.

Watching the hands tick away meticulously on the clock above the fridge, he flexed his fingers and allowed the slow and steady noises to keep him grounded. He loathed the idea that you were outside alone, beautiful face covered in tears, heartbroken and shattered. Not only that but the knowledge that those things could be looming in the woods waiting to sink their teeth into you was driving him mad with paranoia. The only thing stopping him from pulling you inside where he could safely watch you was the unwavering concern that not letting you grieve would do more harm than good, so he settled for watching you through the window, hands clamped around his trusty bat - just in case.

————————————————————

You were sure you had run out of tears. Exhausted and dehydrated, you buried your head in the palm of your hands, desperate to stop the mind numbing pain at the back of your skull. The trees rustled gently, olive coloured leaves glinting under the stars. You wondered what could be lurking inside of the forest, but you were too drained to care.

You heard the door creak behind you, but relaxed at the familiar weight of Cortez’s against the soft wood.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost timid. Sounding so foreign coming from his mouth, so cautious and kind that it almost made you start crying all over again. He paused momentarily, before inhaling and sitting down beside you, his long legs awkwardly bent, his back starting to ache, but he couldn’t care less. You both sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, unsure how to break down the barrier that was forming between you. Your hazy eyes lingered on the T-shirt’s and sweaters dangling from the Boyce’s washing line, sleeves swaying with the movement of the wind, almost as if there was an invisible person dancing inside.

Steve was the first to break the silence. He usually was, his quick wit and smooth demeanour had been one of the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place, the only person you had ever met that could make you melt into a puddle and then cry with laughter with just a few sentences.

“How you holding up?” He faltered, picking angrily at a loose thread hanging from his denim jeans. “That was a stupid question, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t trust yourself to form words just yet, but you tilted your head as much as you could muster, communicating with your boyfriend in that nauseating way that only the both of you understood, except this time it felt sour instead of sickeningly sweet.

You crunched a stray leaf under your shoe, mulling over the sound as it tore under your heel. “It doesn’t feel real.” You muttered finally, biting your lower lip with your front teeth, letting the pain stop your tears. “I keep expecting to see his face, his stupid goofy grin.” You smiled gently, “I keep waiting for him to turn up and say it’s all a prank, but I know he won’t, he’s too kind for that.”

“He was the nicest person I’ve ever met.” Steve said truthfully, “He was a good guy.”

Was. Three words that swam around your head and tangled your stomach into knots and you choked on the thickness in your throat. The strangled groan was so heartbreaking that Steve wanted to tear apart the things that did this to you with his bare hands, but instead he pulled you closer with them, clasping you against his chest.

He let you cry, he let you ruin his t-shirt and cover him in your mascara and wet, hot tears. He would let you bawl into everything he owned, even his prized The Clash shirt or limited edition Charlies Angels sweater that was buried in the back of his wardrobe - he would give it all to you, to stain and rip and ruin, if it meant you had at least one moment of solace.

Under the beautiful navy sky littered with stars, Steve sighed, wishing he knew what to say. He wished that he was as articulate as Nancy, or as strong as Hopper, he’d even take being as soft spoken as Jonathon, if he knew it would make you feel better. But you hadn’t fallen in love with any of them, you had fallen in love with him and he was going to do everything in his power to try and make his girl hurt a little less. So he tried to distract you.

“Do you remember our first date?” He said, breaking the silence, his eyes focusing on the branches of a tree swaying in the distance.

He heard you sniffle, felt the rise of your head under the palm of his hands. If you were surprised by his question you didn’t show it. “How could I forget?”

He smiled, thinking back to the day, over two years ago. If he thought hard enough he could almost relive the gut twisting anxiety and the sweat pooling on the nape of his neck as he pulled up to your house. The two of you had been friends forever, bound since the day you both shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the playhouse in kindergarten. But you both started naturally drifting apart around the end of middle school, settling onto different paths as you grew up, only really seeing each other in the hallways or at the back of the school bus.

By the time you both entered high school, Steve was completely swept up with basketball and his newfound popularity, and you were settling into your own friendships and trying to stay on top of your grades. You rarely saw one another, but by chance the two of you were paired as lab partners one semester in sophomore year, and soon science became his favourite subject. Seeing you became the highlight of his day, better than scoring a goal in basketball or cutting class with Tommy and Carol. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, the conversation so easy and genuine, and he made it a personal challenge to have you in stitches by the time the bell rang.

He fell hard, and fast. He had always thought you were beautiful, even when you were just kids and you wore your hair in two braids and seemed to always be covered in glitter. There was just something about you, an ease and a lightness that you carried, something about your smile and sound of your laugh that had him stumbling over his sentences like an idiot. He liked hearing about all of the things he had missed, like how you got grounded for sneaking out of your room to go and watch the new Star Wars, or how you crashed your dads car into a tree the very first hour after you got your license.

It wasn’t long before he realised that his day didn’t feel complete unless he had spoken to you. He started noticing how every game he searched for your face in the bleachers, the only person he really cared about seeing. His eyes would flicker over faces at parties, determined to find your sparkling eyes and kind smile, finding the hit of seeing you more electric than the cheap beer and fizzled out joints being passed around him.

He was nervous. He didn’t get nervous - he was Steve Harrington for Christ’s sake, but somehow you had managed to turn his whole world on its axis. He tried to live his life with as little regrets as possible; but in the quiet of his bedroom, with the moonlight casting shadows across his walls, he couldn’t help but feel furious with himself. If he could go back in time and do everything all over again, he would make sure to hold onto you as tight as possible and stop the two of you drifting apart.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were a knockout. The kind of girl that would bring even the strongest of men to their knees, the kind of girl that lingered in his brain long after he had fallen asleep. He also knew that he wasn’t the only one who had been completely captivated by you. He had seen the way Mike Adams cornered you after the school assembly, laughing at something you said as you sat with a group of friends, an enamoured look in his eye. He saw the way Jacob Taylor tried his hardest to get as close to you as possible at a house party, dazed by the way you twirled your hair obliviously and smiled like white, hot sunshine.

He knew what they were going through, smitten and stupid and dopey and practically a puddle at your feet, because he felt exactly the same way.

He was going to ask you out to dinner and then the movies. He had an elaborate speech planned in his mind, one that he had practiced in the mirror repeatedly - not that he would ever admit it. He was nervous. So goddamn nervous of screwing up the one thing that he really fucking liked, of potentially ruining your friendship and making himself look like an ass for misreading the signals and making you uncomfortable that he almost talked himself out of it as he walked into the physics lab one rainy afternoon.

But when he saw you there, looking up at him. As sweet as cinnamon in your oversized lab coat and stupid goggles, lips slightly chewed and fingertips stained with charcoal, and he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“Doyouwanttogooutwithme?”

For a moment he wished he took photography class, so he could snap a picture of the blush on your cheeks, have a physical copy of your wide smile and the glint in your eyes; something to look at when he was trying to fall asleep.

“About time, Harrington.” You had said, and it had knocked all of the wind from him, and he had walked around with a big goofy grin for the entire rest of the day.

————-————————————————

“I remember being so goddamn nervous. I thought I was going to throw up.” He said now, his voice laced with humour, somehow always knowing how to diffuse any situation.

You curled up further into him, craving his stability and warmth, and you relaxed as you felt his palm rubbing comforting circles across your back.

He looked into the darkness, remembering the anxiety filling him as he waited for you on the street by your house. He remembered peering into the rear view mirror, fluffing the edges of his hair with his fingertips, twisting and pulling the strands until they sat where he wanted. He could feel his leg shaking, foot hovering above the gas as he struggled to keep his composure. He hadn’t even been this nervous when college scouts came to a game, and he seriously needed to stay cool before you opened the door and saw him.

“You brought me flowers.” You said quietly, and he looked down at you with a gentle smile, his heart clenching at the sadness in your voice.

He remembers standing in the grocery store, cursing and muttering under his breath, wondering what was more romantic: tulips or sunflowers.

He bought both.

He can remember holding them in his shaking hands as carefully as he could as he walked up the stone path to your house.

“I had to talk myself into ringing the doorbell.” He felt you scoff under him and he laughed,

“Seriously! I was terrified, more scared than I was tonight.”

Its a lie. Running through the junkyard and fighting off strange monsters had been exhilarating, but also the most terrifying experience of his life; especially when he knew that the kids and you were just metres away, hidden in the old bus. He really thought he was about to die when the demodog reared and snarled in his face, teeth gnashing at his throat, but in those moments all he could think about was protecting you.

It’s strange, he had never been so terrified to lose someone.

“And then Bob opened the door.” Your voice was heavy and thick, like you were swallowing honey and it snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him of the reason you were both huddled outside.

Your parents worked ninety percent of the time, only really coming home to crawl into bed and then driving back to work six hours later. You were used to it though, falling into a somewhat stable routine of eating TV dinners and doing your homework to the sounds of Jeopardy! playing in the background. Despite the lonely nights and your parents distance, there was always one person who tried their absolute best to make you feel safe and secure. Your uncle, Bob Newby.

The goofy, gold hearted manager at RadioShack was always there for you, especially whenever your parents weren’t. He always made sure your refrigerator had something green inside, and would come over after work to sit and watch cheesy rom coms with you. He even installed new locks and security lights in the yard and on the porch, just to make you both feel better, even though it was Hawkins - and nothing ever happens there.

He was basically a surrogate dad and your best friend, and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it. Some of the happiest nights of your life had been with him, like when you went to the midnight viewing of The Godfather and shared toffee popcorn and cherry twizzlers, or when he drove you to Lake Michigan for your birthday and you ate sandwiches next to the water.

So when he found out the captain of the basketball team had asked you out on a date, he was a little apprehensive.

“He really grilled me.” Steve muttered with a sad smile, it hurt him that one of the most poignant moments of his life was now to be covered in a thick, black cloud, and he could only imagine what you’re going through. “I thought he was going to pull out a shotgun.”

“Psh. It would have been a lightsaber.”

You remembered shovelling in cereal at the breakfast bar the morning of your date. Bob watching you over his steaming mug of coffee curiously.

“So… Any plans for today?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled fondly at your uncle. “Steve is taking me out. This is only like the billionth time I’ve told you.”

He nodded, “Right, Right. Steve. Steve.” He tested the name on his tongue. “And Steve is - the captain of the basketball team right?”

“Yep.” You said, through a mouthful of sugar. “Oh, and he’s the leader of this really tough biker gang, to get in you have to murder three kittens.”

You watched his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, and then slowly fall back to their original spot when he caught on to your teasing. He held up his hands in playful surrender, taking a swig of his drink and then placing his mug on the granite counter.

“I know I’m being a fusspot! But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know, Bob! But I’ll be fine! We’re just going to catch a movie and then dinner.”

“Ok.” He sighed, turning to wash up the dishes left from the previous nights pig out fest, but his hands stilled before he could twist the faucet. “Wait! Nothing R rated - or too romantic, and tell him to knock it off if he tries that whole ‘I’m so tired, let me put my arm around you schtick!’”

“I’m ignoring you now!”

You remembered getting ready, picturing the soft blush hue of your summer dress, and the taste of your strawberry gloss on your lips. You remembered the heat of your curling iron as you meticulously styled your hair, checking your reflection as a way to distract from the minutes ticking by.

You knew the familiar feeling of sweaty palms and butterflies before a date, but that morning it was as if somebody had realised a kaleidoscope of monarchs and swallowtails inside of you. You were completely nauseous, but so excited, and you felt like you were floating on cloud nine, unable to believe that Steve Harrington - the boy you had been crushing on since first grade - wanted to take you out.

You were nervously touching up your makeup, widening your eyes and applying yet another coat of mascara, when you heard commotion downstairs - and the telltale sound of your date getting completely grilled. You practically flew to your feet, haphazardly tying your converse and grabbing your purse, hoping to save Steve from the clutches of your overprotective Uncle. You nearly slid down the carpet when you noticed the door was ajar, smiling widely at the sight of Steve clutching two bouquets, his hair perfectly coiffed and his sneakers white and gleaming.

“- No I’ve never been in an accident, Sir.” You heard Steve say, his voice carrying through the hallway.

“Hmm?” You heard Bob reply, “And what about alcohol? Do you drink it?

“Only eggnog at Christmas.” Steve replied with a grin, his lips falling down when Bob sent him a glare. “Ok, not in the mood for jokes.”

“Are you under the influence now?”

“What? No! Why would I… Wow.” He faltered when he noticed you at the top of the stairs, and for the first time his mind went totally blank, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you. He felt his mouth go dry and he struggled to say something, not wanting to look like any more of an idiot than he already was, but Bob got there first.

“You look great, sweetheart.” He said, voice brimming with pride.

You blushed a deep crimson, feeling awkward under both of their stares. “Thanks, Bob.”

As soon as you reached the floor you blinked up at the men watching you, raising a brow slowly when Steve didn’t move. “So are you ready?”

“Yep. Yes. Yep.” He said quickly, rummaging around his pockets for his keys, and then realising they were in his hands the whole time. “Lets go.”

“Be home before eleven!” You heard Bob yell, his words just carrying into the night before you managed to slam the front door shut.

After the initial awkward meeting at your door, and Bob shooting unconvincing daggers at Steve as he guided you towards his car, the rest of the date went smoothly. You had been out with boys before; middle school crushes that took you to the ice cream parlour in town, and letting your best friend rope you in for a double date with a boy you had never met - but nothing like this.

As the car lulled through the streets, any unease forming quickly uncoiled between the two of you, and it wasn’t long until you were both in stitches. It felt so natural and easy, and you found yourself wanting to know everything about the hazel haired man sitting next to you.

You ate at a diner just outside of town, because according to Steve: “they have the best strawberry milkshakes - ever. I swear they’re like crack.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Harrington.” You had said, shooting him a million dollar smile over your shoulder. He was glad that you walked in first, because it felt as though a bullet had soared through his gut.

——————————————————————-

“I remember the milkshakes.” You said. Steve looked down at you, curled up on his lap. He nodded at your words, thinking of summer days and winter nights snuggled up in your booth at the diner. You must have shared hundreds by now, drinking such an obscene amount of the sweet treat it was a surprise neither of you looked like a strawberry. You had ruined the fruit for him. He couldn’t take a bite from a strawberry without remembering the taste of your lips or the sound of your laugh, it was conditioned into him like he was one of Pavlov’s dogs. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t love it, strawberries had become his favourite fruit.

“I told you those milkshakes were great.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He could feel you wobbling under him, could feel the heart wrenching tremor of your body starting to shake with tears and he swore internally, trying his best to distract you again.

“And then we watched Ghostbusters.”

You let out a half hearted laugh. “And you almost shit yourself when you saw Slimer.”

“He popped up outta nowhere!”

“And then you spilt popcorn everywhere.”

“Yeah, that old lady was pissed.” He clicked his tongue at the memory, crumbs and melted butter flying everywhere, the entire row in front covered in his mess and glaring at you both, you laughing so hard into your sleeve you thought you might just pass out.

“And then I drove you home - way before curfew I might add - because I’m a gentleman.”

“And then you kissed me.”

“I think you’ll find you kissed me.”

“Ha.You wish.”

It felt good to hear the bite back in your voice, and it warmed him like a zap of electricity that his plan of distraction was working.

Besides, it was partly true - you had kissed him first.

That night as he pulled into your driveway, his gut felt like a huge boulder inside of him. There was nothing more that he wanted then to lean over the console and kiss you, but he was too goddamn nervous.

The date had gone so brilliantly, and he could feel himself, tripping, stumbling and falling completely head over heels for you, but he was so uncharacteristically anxious that it was kind of freaking him out. He was getting all worked up about things he had never thought of before, like his teeth clashing against yours, or accidentally knocking your heads together and giving you a mild concussion.

He left his car running, because he didn’t want you to be cold, (and the constant vibrations were good at hiding the tremor in his legs). It was fully black outside, the night sky a long stretch of navy and the stars were pretty but not nearly as pretty as the girl smiling at him in the passenger seat. Just as your eyes connected and he thought he was going to finally kiss you, the porch light turned on, a nice little reminder from Uncle Bob that he was still watching. You laughed exasperatedly and reached over, filling the distance between you as you tried to grab the strap of your handbag and Steve leant over to give you a hand with the sticky door, but instead your lips caught his and he froze in place, his eyes closed and his heart feeling like a jackhammer in his chest, all of his worries evaporating behind him like ocean spray, because suddenly everything felt right.

“Night, Harrington.” You had said smugly, leaving him in his car that suddenly smelt like cotton candy and coconut shampoo, and with an entire carnivals worth of fireworks erupting from his stomach.

————————————————————

“When I got inside he pretended he had just woken up.” You said now, your words coated with tears but laced with tenderness. “Tried to act like he wasn’t staring through the window watching us kiss.”

Steve tangled his fingers through your hair, anchoring the two of you together, hoping that the small action would give you at least some comfort. He mulled over all of the memories the two of you shared, picturing them shattered at his feet like shards of shimmering glass. He wasn’t sure how to comfort you and it hurt, the silence settling around you like thick, poisonous gas.

“What about our first anniversary? The first time we committed a felony.”

“It wasn’t a felony.”

“Yeah and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time either, you little criminal.”

He remembered when you went out to a much too fancy restaurant in the city. How angelic and beautiful you looked in a little sundress and heels, stealing the breath right out of his lungs whenever he looked at you. How even when he was out of his comfort zone you felt like home, always making him feel stable no matter where he was. He remembered those glances you stole at one another, tongue in cheek laughter and suppressed smiles at the strange place you were both in, the two of you sticking out amongst the older, richer and snootier couples like a sore thumb.

He remembered the glint in your eye and the look on your face, the one that had him completely wrapped around your little finger - (but really, you could look at him anyway and he was a complete goner). It was how you both stood up at the same time, grabbing your handbag and wallet and rushing through the sea of people, laughing loudly as he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you with him, dodging the doorman who was cursing loudly at the kids who had just dined and dashed, even though neither of you had had more than a mouthful of your overpriced starter.

“You are such a bad influence, (Y/L/N).” He had scolded, playfully pinching the inside of your thigh as you lay stretched out on a picnic blanket overlooking the forests on the edge of town. You swatted him away, and he felt his breath hitch at the sight of you, hair tousled and makeup slightly worn, so effortlessly beautiful beneath the headlights of his car.

“Oh, please Hargrove. You would be lost without me.”

He didn’t reply, because it was true.

Instead he leaned over your body, stealing a quick kiss and also a handful of fries from the drive thru bag next to you.

“Hey!” You whined, leaning up and swatting at him. “Those are mine!”

“Technically, technically,” He said, licking salt from his fingertips. “They were at the bottom of the bag, not in either of the cartons - so they were never really yours.”

You rolled your eyes, punching him softly in the gut and laughing as he collapsed on top of you. “You are such a dumbass.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dumbass.”

He ran his tongue over a canine, finding clarity in your eyes.“I can’t believe you’ve put up with me for a whole year.”

“Me neither, but the money your dad gives me to go out with you makes it worth it.”

His finger trailed along the bridge of your nose, his lips curling the same as the path his fingerprints followed. “Stupid.” It was a terrible comeback, but when you looked up up at him like that, all of his sentences spilt into a bowl of mismatched alphabet soup. He blinked down at you, feeling the way his heart hammered against his rib cage, engulfed in the terrifying feeling of being so in love with somebody. “Seriously though, this has - this has been the best year of my life.”

Your rosebud lips parted, showing him that dammed smile that would make him burn down the whole town if you asked him to. “Mine too.”

——————————————————————-

“Remember when I got a black eye because of you?” He murmured, glancing up at the stars that flickered above you both.

“Because of me?” You scoffed, halfheartedly. “Hardly.”

“Ok. Keep telling yourself that.”

There was once a time where he loved nothing more than spending Friday through Sunday completely wasted, waking up on somebodies couch, his mouth tasting like sour liquor and his clothes scattered across the floor - but not after he met you. He used to long for the high from downing tequila shots or jumping into the pool with hazy eyes, a burnt out joint being passed around friends, but soon he realised that nothing came close to the fever high he got from simply being around you.

He remembered sitting in the school parking lot on a Friday afternoon, listening to Tommy and Carol natter about how a group of seniors were going to break into the rec centre and get drunk, but there words were nothing but static as he looked for you among the familiar faces.

You had been officially dating for a few months, and much to Tommy’s dismay, it seemed as though neither of you had any intention of letting the other go. It stung the teenager when Steve started blowing him off to hang out with you, his usual alibi for wild parties leaving him high and dry. He was jealous of the way you managed to consume all of Steve’s attention, and the fact that since the two of you had gotten together, Steve was so much kinder to everyone, and didn’t want to join in with his juvenile antics. When you went to parties, he drank less and laughed more, and Tommy was left doing shots and keg stands alone.

More than anything though, Tommy was jealous that Steve had scored a girl like you, kind and soft and sweet, when he had trouble getting Carol to stay over longer than the time it took to drain a bottle of stolen wine. It made him feel envious and insecure, watching the way you kissed Steve in the hallways with rosebud lips and your eyes shone like diamonds under the gentle sun; when was a girl going to look at him like that?

“You coming tonight, Harrington?” He asked from the hood of Steve’s car, his legs dangling onto the asphalt.

“No.” Steve said, chewing on his fingernails. “Sorry man, I’m taking (Y/N) to the drive in.”

“Aww.” Carol preened, a solid supporter of your relationship. You hadn’t known her too well before you started seeing Steve and hadn’t expected to become so close to her, but now she was one of your best friends. Sure she could be a little vapid and a little rude, but she also made you laugh loudly and always helped you get ready for dates with Steve, and you really appreciated the way she let you into the inner circle. “That’s so sweet. You guys are too cute.”

Tommy ignored her. He could already feel himself boiling over.

“Cmon Harrington, it’s one night. It’s tradition.”

“No it isn’t.”

He exhaled loudly. “Well it should be.”

“I’m good, man. And besides, we’re still going to see the Bulls play on Saturday, right?”

“I guess.”

Silence settled around them like cigarette ash. Tommy, growing more irate by the second, toyed with the collar of his shirt and curled and uncurled his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure why he was pissed - as Steve’s best friend he should have been pleased with how love struck and happy he was, and it wasn’t as though he never saw Steve anymore, or that you had split up the group or anything - but he was still annoyed, and that’s why he said it.

“God, I hope she’s a better fuck than she looks. I mean, she must be if she’s got you this whipped.”

It took a moment for Steve to process what he had said, swallowing his friends words like they were barbed wire, his throat filling with blood.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Just what everybody else is thinking.” It wasn’t what everybody thought, but Tommy thrived off of mob mentality, and the small crowd watching in the parking lot was enough to spike his adrenaline.

“Tommy.” Carol warned, her voice thick and heavy, eyeing him from over the roof of the car.

“What did you say about her?” Steve asked, his face turning crimson, the shade matching the colour coating his pupils.

Tommy didn’t hold back, his hands firmly grasping his shovel, ready to dig himself deeper. “Jesus. Look at you! Look what she’s turned you into. She’s a bitch, and so are you.” He gestured wildly with his hands, the severity of what he had said was slowly sinking in, but he was stupid enough to stand by it for the time being.

Steve was livid. His body rattling like he had been struck by lightning. He knew he wasn’t some fucking white knight who had to defend your honour, but there was no way in hell he was going to let some fucking prick about you like that.

“And…you know what? The both of you can - ”

“Fuck you.” Steve brought his fingers to a fist and clocked him right in the nose, a sickening thwack echoing around the school. Tommy recoiled backwards, almost falling through the windshield. He managed to regain his balance at the last second, and his face was contorted with both pain and disbelief.

“What the fuck man?” Tommy seethed, spitting out a wad of blood and lunging at Steve, managing to grab him by his collar and slam him onto the asphalt, their jeans ripping across the gravel.

The two of them rolled around, a deadly mix of closed knuckles and crisp white sneakers. A small crowd had gathered around the two of them, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and rich with stories to be shared around the party that night. They both managed to get a couple good hits in, Steve just managing to get the upper hand before the school janitor started calling in for backup.

You had just left World Civ, your textbooks still cradled in your arms and your best friend laughing in your ear as you made your way out of the school and towards the parking lot.

“Yeah, I swear! She…” Your best friends voice trailed off as she noticed a blur of movement in the distance, her ears picking up like a bloodhounds. “Oh my God. I wonder what’s going on.”

You looked up shrugging your shoulders, expecting to see some of the wrestling team or soccer players roughhousing like they usually did, but your blood turned cold when your eyes focused fully and you caught sight of that damn perfect hair.

“Holy shit. Steve!”

If only your phys ed teacher could have witnessed the speed you ran across the car park; dust picking up with your shoes as you bolted towards your boyfriend. You managed to break through the inner circle crowding around them, the teenagers egging on Tommy and Steve as they scrambled towards one another, the sound of elbows and knees and fingernails clashing all around you.

“Hey. Hey! That’s enough!”

Poor Mr Springer tried his best to separate the two of them, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist and trying to tear them apart as they continued scrapping like junkyard dogs.

Your mouth was agape as a couple of boys helped break the two of them up, your eyes widening at the scarlet red blood staining the ground and the deep purple bruises already starting to show. You managed to catch Steve’s line of sight, his eyes widening at the sight of you, his face starting to swell.

“Steve? What the fuck!”

“Oh! Hey, babe? How did your pop quiz go?” He asked, throwing you a dazzling smile as though everything was right in the world.

Despite everything, you bit back a laugh, kneeling down to wrap your hands around him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” You said, cradling the now puffy side of his face, a quarter sized apricot indent growing under his eye.

He winked at you as he was pulled away and dragged to the principal. He knew he was in for a months worth of Saturday detentions, but he couldn’t care less. He avoided the death glare his former best friend was giving him, licking the blood pooling across his split lip.

If he had to chose between you or Tommy, or choose between nights in with you or nights out with the rest of the seniors - hell, if he had to choose between basketball and you, it would be you, every time.

Point blank, period.

———————————————————-

There was a chill in the air, swallowing the both of you whole. Steve could feel his jeans dampening, your tears cascading down your face and onto his denim. He could feel eyes on the back of neck, and knew without turning around that Dustin and the rest of the kids were watching from the kitchen window, waiting to jump out and rescue you both if something crawled out from the bushes.

He didn’t have much time left. Soon he would have to bring you back inside, away from the vulnerability of the night and into the embrace of those you had grown so close to. He thinks back with a grimace, to the fight you had over your new routine.

Bob and Joyce dating came as a shock to everyone involved, especially Steve. Not so much that Bob had found companionship with the pretty single mother, but more so that it meant you were spending more time at their house - with Jonathon.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

No matter how many times you rolled your eyes and teased him - he wasn’t jealous.

He just didn’t like the idea of you sat next to him at movie nights, laughing with him during family board games, eating breakfast in the chair beside him, driving to school together and singing along to the stupid obscure bands that Jonathon liked.

Ok maybe he was a little jealous. Sue him.

He’d spent the night at your place, under the guise of helping you with your calculus homework, even though you had a higher grade than him, and he watched with sleepy eyes as you rummaged around your desk in the morning.

“What?” He mumbled under the slowly rising sun, half of his face still buried in your pillow. “What? Where? Where are you going?”

You rifled through your handbag and examined the contents, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Bob’s taking everyone out for lunch - well it should have been breakfast but someone - ” you emphasised with a playful glare, “Is making me late.”

“Whose going?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“You know. Me, Joyce, Jon and Will.”

Jon.

“You didn’t tell me Jonathon was going.” He’s not sure if it’s true. He remembers fragments of you telling him your plans for the weekend, but he also remembers your words shattering before they reached his brain, because of that little strappy top you were wearing and the blackberry colour of your lipstick.

“What?” You asked distractedly, untangling your headphones from your Walkman. “I did.”

“No.” He clicked his jaw, a sign of his annoyance. “You just said Bob was taking you out.”

“With everyone - everyone includes Jonathon.”

“Right.” He’s pissed. His anger isn’t directed at you, more so the floppy haired teenager you’ll be sharing pancakes with, even though it’s not exactly his fault either. “Since when did you guys become The Brady Brunch?”

You let out a dry laugh, oblivious to the fact your boyfriend was getting more agitated by the second.

Did you really have to wear that skirt? He thought. Why did it have to be the short little denim one covered in cherries that made you look so damn good?

“You know how much Joyce loves her kids, Bob just wants to make an effort.”

“Yeah but why do you have to go?”

You shrugged, applying a swipe of lipgloss and tightening your cardigan in an effort to hide the hickeys blossoming under your collarbones. “He invited me, said it’s a family thing.”

“It’s not as though you’re really family though is it?”

He regretted it the moment the syllables left his mouth, but he was too wound up to think before he spoke. He cringed at the way you lost his gaze in the mirror, really fucking hating himself when he saw the crimson blush rise from your throat and onto your cheeks, and the sheen coating your eyes.

“I should go.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your belongings and darting down the stairs. Family had always been a sore subject for you, and he loathed himself for striking you in the one place that it really fucking hurt.

“Wait.. Baby I -” He chased after you, but you were too fast. He wished that you would stay and argue with him, he’d let you scream and yell and shout at him, because he deserved it and he wanted to let you know he was sorry for being a prick, but you were already out of the door.

“Just up when you leave.” Were the last things you said, disappearing into your car.

He apologised with your favourite chocolates and red roses and an attempt to make you dinner. You couldn’t stay upset with him and his sheepish grin even when half of your kitchen was covered in tomato sauce and your moms pan was coated in burnt pasta.

The boy could screw up, but he always knew how to make up for it.

He trusted you, and loved you, and apologised for - in your words, ‘being a class A jackass’ - and even put away his pride long enough to tell you that, Ok, fine, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous of Jonathon and the bond growing between you.

That night as you curled up on your living room floor amongst an abundance of pillows and crocheted throws, you reassured him that you were in love with him and only him, even when he drove you up the wall. He fell asleep a little easier that night, his girl happy and safe in his arms, your words calming the storm that was once brewing in his mind.

…And maybe Jonathon wasn’t that bad.

———————————————————-

The light of the moon was harsh, almost like the street lamps that flickered in the distance. Steve could feel you moving underneath him, and his palms were starting to dampen, the reality of the evening finally sinking in.

Bob was dead.

As though the same thought had passed through you, you spoke, your voice strained and quiet. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know.”

Your voice cracked like thin ice. “He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t… He.” You choked on your words, and Steve pulled you into him firmly, as if to stop you from falling apart.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You sniffled, a sob tearing through your lungs and clawing through your throat, and you tried desperately to not think about your poor uncles lifeless body. “What am I going to do without him?”

You weren’t looking for an answer, but Steve gave you one.

“It’ll be me and you, it’ll be us. Forever.”

His future was uncertain. He was under a mountain of pressure from his teachers and coaches and guidance counsellors to get his head down and decide about college and scholarships and what he was going to do with his life.

He even took one of those quizzes that was supposed to help him figure his shit out, but when he sat there, pencil in hand and he read the words - where do you see yourself in five years? The only thing he could think of, was you.

He thought of you, so smart and pretty, your future just as undecided as his, but still by his side. He could see road trips and night drives and long distance calls, he could see morning laughter and monumental arguments and make ups, in the distance he could even see a house with a white picket fence and a big dog and a few kids who looked like a mixture of the both of you.

It seemed so simple. So much more simple than applying for college or an internship, because he knew that whatever he did, he wanted it with you.

And then this crazy fucking year happened, and things weren’t so simple anymore. Soon he was best friends with a bunch of pre teens and fighting off big scary fucking monsters and Billy Hargrove. Soon his small world of basketball and strawberry milkshakes and tongue kisses was filled with danger, and he needed to keep you safe.

“I miss him.”

“I know.” He says honestly. “I miss him too.”

He remembered the last conversation he had with Bob. It was before they found Hopper underground, and Bob was getting ready to leave and see Joyce and Will. You were in your room, finishing off the last of your homework, and Steve was heading downstairs to finish off the last of the pizza. He had just grabbed a Coke and a slice of pepperoni, when he saw Bob rummaging through the cupboard in the hall.

“Hey,” Steve said, waving the hand with the soda in it. “I heard about Will. Is he alright?”

Bob gave a kind nod. “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Well, actually, I’m not sure. I’m uh - I’m looking for my old board games for him to play with.”

Steve smiled, because that was exactly the thing Bob would do. “Well, give him my best.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and Steve spun his heel to rejoin you upstairs, taking a big bite of melted cheese as he walked, before Bob spoke aloud once again.

“There’s something strange going on in this town.”

Steve remembered the year before, standing in Jonathan’s living room, twinkling Christmas lights draped on the wall and a baseball bat in his hands. He remembered Barb and Will, and the body from the quarry.

“Yeah.”

Bob exhaled, moving so that he was standing face to face with the teenager. “You make sure nothing happens to her, alright? You know she’s - you know she’s my little girl.”

Steve straightened, his voice solid. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

“I know. You’re a good guy, Harrington.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees, but he knows that for you, he will be.

“Take care of her.”

“Always.”

And they had partied ways: Steve upstairs, where he pulled you into his arms and made you laugh as he planted wet kisses on your face. And Bob to the Byers house to find a map spanning the length of the walls, and then the hospital, and then ultimately, to his death.

———————————————————-

The dark felt much more menacing now, shadows moving like long fingernails and jagged claws around you. He knew that he had to get you inside. He knew that the others would be making plans and setting traps and he knew how much safer you would be there. His heart was shattered after the small sobs leaving your body, your chest deflating like a burst balloon. He also knew that the best people to comfort you would be inside, Joyce with her motherly love, Dustin with his sweet, silly nature, and even Jonathon who truly loved you like a sibling.

“Cmon, lets get you inside.”

He wrapped his hands around you and helped lift you up, steadying you as you swayed on shaky legs. He cradled you into him, feeling the warmth of your breath and tears against his throat, and he inhaled, preparing himself and readying himself, telling him to be strong, for you.

He wrapped a free hand around the door handle, waiting to twist. He took one final look at the menacing bushes and trees surrounding you both, listening for a rustle from the branches.

He doesn’t know what will happen next. But he does know, that whatever it is, you’ll face it, together.

[whatkikiwrote]

Jen is a character out of an unwritten book. Fairy Michael said it best, "That girl is from another planet." The girl with the spider legs. I say is because a person like Jen doesn't just leave this planet when they die, it'll take awhile before a sparkle like hers dissipates. She was fire, fun and one of the most hilarious people I'd ever met. She was smart as a whip and great company. Jen and I were the girls dating the Hungarians. Thomas and Sam were attached at the hip, which meant for better or worse, so were Jen and I. 

The four of us lived a few months together in a rusty shipping container until the rainy season hit and we were practically flooded out. That was November 2015. The rain in Big Sur fell especially hard that year, breaking California out of it's drought. We were always together in the beginning. Jen would wake at dawn to work her morning shift at Ripplewood and Sam was always ready to walk her to work. If you were unfortunate enough to be in the Ripplewood parking lot around 6am, you'd encounter them with their tongues down each other's throat. Sam and Jen were always making out. I remember once my parents came to visit from Boston, so we took them to the aquarium and my dad joked that Sam and Jen missed the whole thing because they were too busy engulfed in each other.

Living in the shipping container in late October provided minimal heat and sometimes the night temperatures dropped below freezing, so we spent a lot of our time at the pub. To stay warm Sam, Jen and I spent hundreds of hours in the soft glow of the pub's fireplace, while Thomas worked in the kitchen. The pub was located in the same parking lot as our little container, so we would joke it was the living room. I'm sure I'm not the first to say that about the Maiden, and if you were lucky to have spent an evening there, you understand how special it was. A little cozy corner community of people off the beaten Highway one path.

To bide our time I wrote. And drank.

Harassed the bartenders.

 Sam read countless books. But Jen could never sit still. She would pick up a book she was interested in, read a few pages and then start another one. She'd get bored, order a beer from Spencer or, if it was Friday night, from Heavy Metal Chris. She'd roll a cigarette on the bar, go outside by the barrel to smoke and every time I’d glance out the window at her, she would be hugging someone new. Lots of times she'd spot a friend in the parking lot, jump in their car, leave her stuff inside and come back hours later to her beer and purse, right where she'd left them. You don't deserve that kind of community love unless you work for it and Jen certainly did. She was always around and if I needed her in a pinch, I only had to use the “Big Sur telephone”,  "Hey everyone!” I’d call into the open doors of the pub, If you see Jen, tell her I'm looking for her." "Which Jen?" Someone would ask. "The one with the long legs." I’d reply. "Crossed eye Jen?" That was another thing about us. We both had occasionally lazy eyes.

In November Thomas and I moved into our Kia Forte and Sam and Jen moved into her Jetta. We didn't see them as much. Sam and Jen stayed in the valley, sleeping at The Grange while Thomas and I drove down to the south coast and spend our time off surfing at Sand dollar. I remember once we took Sam and Jen out to surf. I let her borrow my board and watched in horror like a worried mother as she flipped and flopped and smashed her and my board over and over again until she realized she could use just use it as a boogie board. I can still remember the endless joy on her face, even today, years later, holed up in a giant downtown apartment, far far away from the Pacific. That cute squinty smile. She wouldn't give me my board back for the rest of the day, no matter how much I pleaded.

In late December Thomas and I decided to move to Monterey. The day we signed our lease I drove to LA to get the rest of my stuff I had left behind when I abruptly decided to follow my heart and move to Big Sur. When I came home to Monterey, the apartment had been completely decorated. It looked like a homeless hippie had vomited all over our walls and, I guess she kinda did. Jen welcomed me with her big goofy googly eyed smile and offered me a plate of burnt cookies. That wasn't the only time Jen decorated my apartment or cooked for us .Once she made a stew of eggs, beans, greens and any condiment and spice she could find in the fridge and cabinet, including the fish sauce. We all took bites to be nice and then fed our portions to the dogs when she wasn't looking. Poor dogs.

Jen and Sam lost their jobs that winter and survived off of Chips Ahoy. They'd sleep over regularly to do laundry, take showers, smoke giant bong rips. We’d get massively stoned and lounge around listening to music while braiding each other's hair. We always had some new abalone or jade or money or doobie or gossip to share. Our collective favorite drink was a latte with a double shot of Bailey's so when they would sleep over, as a thank you, Jen would always make us Bailey's coffee in the morning. One thing Jen was exceptional at, other than being a phenomenal friend and muse, was making lattes. 

Once Jen hosted a dinner party at Coast Gallery, where Henry Miller’s famed water colors hang on the walls. It was just the four of us and Geologist Steve, who was living there at the time. Jen welcomed us at Steve’s door as if it were her own home. The small apartment had access to the latte machine in the commercial kitchen and together we drank at least 10 if not more coffees. She had made little foam hearts in every cup.

 High on caffeine we walked out to the balcony where the cafe serve sandwiches and drinks and looked out at the moon shinning off the ocean. There were few clouds in the sky as the marine layer had dispersed and clearly we could see shooting stars falling around us. Thomas took me by my hand and we started to waltz, as we circled around, I caught a glimpse of Sam and Jen, tongues down each other’s throats. It’s silly how when you are young you believe a moment can last forever.

Jen and I were like sisters. We didn't always get along in the beginning and we'd go long spans of time not seeing each other, but we always had the other's back. If I needed a job, she'd find one for me. If she needed to talk, we'd find each other. Once I took her to that dive bar in Seaside every Big Sur local has been to. I forgot the name. It was noon on a Tuesday and the place was packed. We spent too much money on booze and too much time complaining to each other about the difficulties of being us. After a very short lived game of pool, we decided it was time to leave, but as I reached to open the door, a man blocked my exit and said, "Where do you think you're going?" I stood motionless, freaked out, but Jen just swatted him away and walked out of the dark into the daylight without a blink. 

Eventually she and Sam made a deal with some deeply loved locals and ended up building their own little shack on a mountainside. Jen found a book on gardening and designed her own, at one point she dug out her own stairway down to the garden. Sam and Jen’s only other source of entertainment was a keyboard piano. When Thomas and I would come to visit, Jen and I would play duets. We were shit at it, but that didn't matter. Jen and Sam were living in a dream world. They forged for seaweed at the beach and dried it. They found a colony of bees and tried to harvest the honey. Two of their four walls were made of glass. They watched and documented the Sobranes Fire from their bed. One day as the fire raged, we climbed on their roof and drank Bailey's coffee from their makeshift kitchen: a tarp, a cooler and a small propane stove

.It's been 3 years since I've seen Jen. Thomas and I ran out of money and options after the Pub closed, so we decided with heavy hearts to move to the other side, my side, of the country. She and Sam broke up about a year after we moved. A poor choice, a painful ending, a breakup I wonder if I could have stopped, had I been there.

Despite the distance, I still shared photos with her, of the dogs, of our wedding, our first born little girl. And Jen has never left us, it wasn't even a week ago Thomas and I were sharing memories about her. I still have the pieces of jade we traded,  but I'm realizing now that she's gone,  how little of her I still keep. My apartment used to be where she kept her books,  her clothes,  some memories. Typically when a person you love dies,  there's a funeral to attend,  a gathering of friends to mourn with, but all I have is Thomas and somehow we'll have to tell Sam. How do you tell someone the greatest love of your life is dead? I'm sure it'll be a few more hours until I find out the details of her passing, a few more hours until the shock wears off and I find myself mourning my friend while playing with my children,  doing the dishes or driving in the car. 

Everyone has their own idea about what happens after we die. Thomas thinks we live on only in memories and DNA, I think a bit more spiritually than that.  Anyway, what we think doesn’t matter. Wherever Jen is, besides in all our hearts,  I know she's having a hell of an adventure and I hope someday we can ride those waves again at Asilimar.

[phoenixmakeswords]

Broken Wings And Dragon Dreams Ch. 1

Trigger Warnings: Domestic violence, child abuse mention

The shattering of glass stirs me from my sleep. The stench of smoke fills the air, saturating the warm afternoon air. So much for my nap. Panic fills my lungs. The hospital is on fire. I can’t stay here or I’ll die, even though my mom told me to stay inside here unless I was hunting.

I hear the flames crackling downstairs. I don’t know if I can use the back stairs on the west side of the old sanitarium. So, I crash through a window.

My good wing beats against the air for a heartbeat. My bad one tries to, instinctively, but it does no good. I crash painfully into the hard ground. The impact drives the breath from my lungs.

I clamber to my feet, breathing heavily. I have to get out of here. I don’t know where to go.

My feet pound the pavement as I run away.

“Let’s get us a dragon, boys!” a male voice shouts behind me. He has a strident voice that grates on my nerves.

I run harder. I’m far from quiet. I’m big and clunky. It makes me too easy to be found. I can’t take to the sky. Not since a storm knocked me from a tree and broke my wing.

I stick to the main road south out of Robinson. Maybe someone will see me and take mercy on me.

They’re getting closer, the revving of their truck’s engine sending spikes of an adrenaline through my veins.

There’s a small brick house up ahead with a light blue square body truck parked in the driveway. The driver is still in it. The truck itself looks familiar; it looks like the one my boyfriend had when we were in high school…before I turned into a dragon.

I skid to a stop a foot away from the truck. I don’t know how to get the driver’s attention other than screeching loudly.

The driver’s door opens slowly, followed by the driver slowly climbing out. I’d know this face anywhere. The boy I loved has turned into a man. He still looks very much the same. I’ve missed Aaron more than I thought possible.

“Easy, bud. Easy. You’re okay. Does your wing hurt? Is that the problem?” he murmurs soothingly in the baby talk voice people use for animals.

Rasping, I jerk my head towards my pursuers. They’re very nearly on us.

I flinch when a car door slams behind me. I haven’t been around people in the time I’ve been a dragon. This has me terrified. I don’t want to die.

“Can’t get away from me, can you?” Strident Voice taunts.

“I’m not dealing with you, Bryce. Get off my property or I call the cops.” Aaron’s low voice hasn’t changed since I heard it last. I could be wrong, but he sounds scared. I don’t know what Bryce has done to him but I think I like the man even less now.

“You know they won’t do anything. After all, who cares about a dead Mexican?”

I launch myself at Bryce with a screech.

How dare you threaten him! Who do you think you are? What’s wrong with you? My mind whirls with anger.

I don’t know what exactly I plan on doing to Bryce. I don’t want to kill him. I’m not a monster. I’m not a murderer. I don’t want him to hurt Aaron. That’s all I care about.

Bryce gets in his shiny red truck before I can catch him. I slide to a stop near his door and glare.

“Get your dragon or I shoot it,” Bryce threatens, pulling out a handgun.

“Bud, come on. Let him go,” Aaron says quietly.

I obey him easily. I’d do anything for him. Even now.

He has to bring me inside the house using the French back doors; my wings make me too wide to fit through the front door, especially with the awkward angle my broken wing hangs at.

Navigating his tiny kitchen isn’t easy, considering I’m roughly horse-sized. He tries to stay out of the way.

I make my way into the living room. So far I haven’t toppled any furniture.

“I’ll feed you in a minute, okay? You eat meat, right?” he says quietly, settling into a battered blue couch.

His living room is large enough I can comfortably lie down, so I do. It doesn’t hold any clues about him or what his life is currently like. The pale yellow walls are nearly empty of decoration, except for two abstract paintings that Aaron probably made. There’s a few books, movies, and video games on a shelf by the door. His home doesn’t seem warm.

I croak softly and move to rest my head on his knee. He rubs my forehead shakily.

“I just left Bryce last month. We’d been living together. And he—I didn’t fix his lunch. I forgot. I’m under a lot of stress at work sometimes. So I forgot. I didn’t mean to. I apologized. He knocked me down the stairs,” he whispers hoarsely. “That was after he beat me. Our neighbor saw; she called the cops. They didn’t do anything. Wouldn’t do anything.”

He’s a domestic violence survivor. It floors me. I don’t want to think about someone putting him through what my mom and I went through.

“I was afraid he would kill me. I deserved being hit. And screamed at. I should’ve been a better boyfriend. He was within his rights to hit me. He has a gun. He knows where I live now.” He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat.

I know what it looks like when he has an anxiety attack. I know how quiet he gets. The way he rubs at his wrists in tiny circles. The look in his eyes like he’s watching the world end. He has that look now.

It takes me back to the night he came out to me as ace. We’d been dating for a couple weeks when I saw him have one of his worst anxiety attacks.

“You’re okay. You’re safe,” I murmur gently, rubbing his back as he throws up. “I still love you. I still want you.”

I keep assuring him that he’s okay and cherished until he calms down. I’ve seen him have anxiety attacks before and helped him through them, but I’ve never seen him have one this bad. It takes forever for him to calm down.

“Did you mean that?” he asks quietly. “You still love me?”

“Yeah, I did. I’m not going anywhere.” I wipe his face tenderly.

“I thought it would be a dealbreaker.” He toys with the black ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

What kind of person would I be if I left him because he’s asexual? He mentioned he would like to try having sex at some point. Even if he hadn’t, even if that wasn’t on the table, I’m still head over heels, crazy stupid in love with him. Besides, I have a good imagination.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I repeat, resting my forehead against his.

I don’t know how to help now. I don’t have thumbs. I can’t rub his back.

I lick his face. It’s the best I can do.

He flinches and pushes me away. Cocking my head inquisitively, I chirp softly. I hadn’t meant to upset him. I wanted to help.

He looks bad, I realize, taking a step back.

If the circles under his brown eye are any indication, he hasn’t been sleeping. There’s a hollowness to his cheeks. His olive skin has taken on an ashy tint I don’t particularly care for. A fading bruise marks his right eye, and there’s another along his jaw. I don’t like this.

It feels like forever before he’s okay again. I preen my feathers while I wait.

“Thank you for being a good baby,” he tells me as he clambers off the couch.

I butt him in the back lightly before padding after him through the doorway to my right.

It’s his bedroom. His room looks even emptier of his personality than the living room. A battered leather jacket hangs on the wall. His bed is made neatly with a teal comforter. He never made his bed before; the one exception was if I was coming over because he didn’t want me to think he was a slob. It doesn’t look like he lives here.

“Dude. You are not following me to the bathroom,” he tells me.

I pause in the bedroom doorway. Fitting in his room will be tough anyway.

He’s texting someone when he comes back.

“Letting my friends know about Bryce,” he explains. “Can I get through please?”

I step back so he can move past me.

A heartbeat later, he stops in front of me. I nearly walk into his back.

“Why did I explain to you who I was texting and why? You’re a dragon. You’re not Bryce. It’s not like you’re gonna rip into me and accuse me of cheating. Or break my phone. Or my face. It’s not like I didn’t deserve it.” He opens the fridge and pulls out a soda.

I hate hearing him make excuses for Bryce. It reminds me of my mom defending my dad. Of how I defended him. Aaron was the one who made me doubt that. It isn’t right for that to have changed.

He hums softly as he cooks ramen noodles in the microwave. I don’t recognize the song, but that doesn’t mean anything. I haven’t been human for a long time. Not since that night.

The memories I had been suppressing since Aaron rescued me rush to the forefront of my mind and I can’t escape this time.

Aaron kisses me hungrily as he pushes me into the bed. My hands splay against the warm skin of his bare back. I have my sexy boyfriend on top of me and all is right in the world.

My bedroom door flies open with a bang, startling both of us. He wasn’t supposed to be home. That’s why I had Aaron over. Why we were making out in my bed. It was supposed to be safe. We were supposed to be safe.

“What’s this?” he demands, dragging Aaron off me.

“Please, it was my idea! Not his. I…seduced him,” Aaron replies, moving to get between us. He sounds frantic. Anxious. I feel the same way.

It hurts that he’s covering for me. That he’s putting himself in danger for me. I’m not worth that, no matter how much we love each other.

“Please don’t hurt him. It was my fault,” Aaron pleads.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do to my son!” The sound of his fist connecting with Aaron’s nose is too loud in my small room.

“Go. I’ll be okay,” I murmur, squeezing Aaron’s hand gently. I’m lying. I know Aaron knows I’m lying. I don’t want to lie to him. I hate it. But I don’t want to see him hurt. I love him too much for that.

He gazes at me with teary, pain-filled brown eyes and my heart breaks.

“Aaron. Go.”

He leaves with a choked sob.

I’m gonna die. And I don’t want him to see that.

“You okay, buddy?” Aaron asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I stare at him blankly.

“What do dragons even think about?” he muses quietly, scratching my forehead.

I can’t speak for actual dragons, but all I’m thinking about right now is how badly I want to be human again.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 20

Chapter 20: I Know You Get Me

Mera, Morning, 8:34 AM

           I hummed as I worked over the stove, three skillets going all at the same time. Bacon sizzled on the back burner as it slowly curled up, went crisp. Eggs over easy fried toward perfection just in front of me. To my left, French toast browned. The aroma of breakfast filled the kitchen, wafted out over the pool through the open door, mixed with the unique scent of a desert morning.

           We’d been in the Vegas house for just a few days. The essentials had been done, but there were still a few details that I wanted to work on. Of course, we had to catch a flight first thing the next morning to get to the Raw show. On our last day of peace before we had to get back on the road, I wanted to have a little slice of normalcy. Of a traditional marriage.

           Dean was a night owl, probably because of the schedule they had of performing and then driving half the night to get to the next city. He had still been awake when I’d gone to bed around midnight, and I had no memory of when he came to bed. All I knew was that I woke up wrapped in his arms.

           I felt the smile slip onto my face as I realized that could be the rest of my life. If I wanted it, I could wake up with him each and every morning. We could travel the country side-by-side… just like I had with Seth all those years. Only this time, the person beside me actually wanted me there.

           Happiness settled into my bones as I made sure that everything hit the plate hot. It took a moment to find the syrup in the pantry, so I put it on my to do list to organize it to my liking. Dean didn’t seem like much of a cook.

 Dean, Morning, 8:40 AM

           It was surprising as hell when my body woke me up before ten. I’d hit the bed around three and passed out pretty quick. Going to bed early wasn’t my thing, even when I wasn’t on the road.

           My heart skipped a beat when I thought back to when I came to bed last night. Mera was curled up in a ball on what she had claimed as her side of the bed, one hand tucked up beneath her pillow. I moved as quietly as I could to get in to bed, doing my best to not disturb her too much. By the time I’d settled in on my back, she’d turned over, nestled into my side. I fell asleep wrapped in the warmth of her body and the scent of her black cherry shampoo.

           I rolled out of bed, yawning and stretching. There was a moment of a sort of vertigo—a sudden realization that Mera’s things were spread throughout the house, that it was real, she was my wife, and this was our home. I touched my wedding band, letting myself slip back into memories of that night beneath the desert sky when we threw caution to the wind and did something wonderfully stupid and rash.

           The scent of bacon hit me as I came down the stairs. I couldn’t help but grin when I thought of Mera making breakfast in our house. Crying was another option, but I was trying hard to keep my shit together. Getting weepy every time I thought about her and the future wasn’t attractive—and it certainly wasn’t my normal MO.

           I caught sight of her and stopped dead in my tracks. Her hair was drawn back in a messy ponytail, those golden light waves trailing down her back. Sun streamed in through the glass doors and cast a halo of softness all around her. She danced around to some music in her head, her hips swaying side-to-side slowly as she loaded up two plates with food. As beautiful as the entire sight was, it only got better when my brain recognized the shirt she wore.

           It was one of mine, the Ice Bear shirt I’d worn that first day at her place in Florida.

           “Mmm,” I hummed, letting her know I was there. “You’re gonna spoil me, darlin’.”

           She turned toward me, a smile on her face that made her eyes burn bright. A faint blush ran along her cheekbones. I crossed the room and slipped my arms around her waist, palms settling on the curve of her ass. She reached up, locked her fingers behind my neck. With a little giggle, she jumped, wrapping her legs around my waist. My hold shifted, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.

           “Good morning, sweet husband,” she murmured, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of my neck.

           There was no looking away from her. Just as I had that very first night, I got caught up, lost in the amber of her eyes. It sent a jolt through my body, a shot of electricity that burned from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, energy that infused every cell of my body. An ounce of that feeling was better than the best shot of whisky, produced a sensation more addicting than any drug. She held my world—my heart, my soul, my happiness—in the palm of her hand, a goddess of beauty that held every part of me in thrall.

           “Good morning, my sweet wife,” I returned. My voice sounded strange to my own ears. It was deep, guttural in a way that seemed to resonate from that primal sense that had taken root in my chest. Each time I looked at Mera, that instinct purred in contentment. When I called her my wife, it rumbled with acknowledgement. It was such a strange thing to think of her as mine, even as I held her on a pedestal, watched her and knew she could never be tamed.

           I felt the shiver that ran through her when I said those words. I smirked—there was no way to stop it. And I didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the same time. I’ll remember that for later.

 Mera, Morning, 8:44 AM

           My sweet wife, I thought, letting the words reverberate in my brain, Dean’s voice amplifying them into my consciousness. I could never get enough of hearing them, of knowing that he held me as his, that everything that I was belonged to him. For the first time, I understood the feeling of being perfectly protected, loved, cherished… wanted. It made my entire being feel light.

           Free.

           I leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on the end of Dean’s nose. He let out a little huff, one corner of his mouth curving up into an indulgent smirk. I grinned back at him, happier than I had been in a very long time.

           “We didn’t have too much in the fridge since we’re leaving tomorrow, but I did what I could,” I said, looking back over my shoulder at the plates still steaming on the counter. “Probably a good idea to buy the spoilable stuff in small doses.”

           When I turned back to him, there was an aura of calm settled on his face. Cornflower eyes swept along my face, the curve of my neck, the shape of my shoulders. He blinked, closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes again, they were glassy with tears.

           “Oh, Dean,” I cooed, settling my palms against his bearded cheeks. “Don’t do that. Please.”

 Dean, Morning, 8:47 AM

           Shit.

           Shit.

           The word ran through my thoughts, chasing around the overwhelming sense of being unworthy. Unworthy of being in her presence, of being the object of her love, of being able to hold her in my arms, kiss her, watch the way her face burned with pleasure. I was little more than a fucked-up kid from Ohio. She was the Midwestern girl with more brains than I’d ever have.

           Yet, there she was, my arms wrapped around the softness of her body. And she had agreed to be mine that wonderful night on the Vegas Strip. This ethereal goddess had stepped out of my wildest dreams to make my life so much more bearable.

           Mera brushed her thumb along my cheek, her voice wrapping around me and filtering through my thoughts. I breathed in deeply of the scent of her skin, found it mixed with my cologne.

           I sat her carefully on her feet, taking care to not let her go. As if she knew how much I needed it, she curled against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I clutched her to me, nose buried in her hair.

           “I never thought I would have a shot with someone like you,” I said, surprised to find my voice breaking. “You were so far out of my league. God knows, you still are.”

           She hugged me harder. My fingers delved into her hair, cradling her head against my chest, desperate to feel her against my fingers. It was the only thing that grounded me, kept me from being swept under in this feeling of inadequacy and terror of losing her when she realized who and what I really was.

           “Every second with you is more than I deserve.”

           She wriggled away, sending fear spiking in my veins. The breath ripped from my lungs as she looked up at me, fury snapping in her gaze.

           “Stop it,” she demanded firmly. “Right now.”

           Surprise kept my mouth shut.

           Mera rose up on her toes, palms against my neck, thumbs stroking the bottom of my jaw. “You are the most wonderful man that I’ve ever met. For seven years, you tried to be honorable. For seven years, you were a good friend. Dean Ambrose, you are kind, and gentle, and funny, and sweet, and caring, and smart, and…”

           “I’m not smart, Mera. Not like you.”

           “Bullshit,” she retorted quickly. “You are one of the smartest people I know. A degree doesn’t mean you’re smart. My brother has a master’s degree and he’s dumb as a brick. There are things you can do that I’ll never fathom.”

           She looked me in the eye, fire of conviction crackling all around her. “You are my husband, Dean. And my husband deserves everything in the world and more.”

           I opened my mouth to respond, but she shook her head firmly. She was wreathed in confidence and passion, everything about her awe-inspiring, breathtaking, beautiful.

           “Now sit your deserving ass down and eat your breakfast,” she ordered with a barely concealed grin.

           “Yes, ma’am, sweet wife.”

           God help me, Mera Reynolds was the only woman on the face of the planet who could put up with me. And I’d never let myself—or her—forget how lucky I was that she was mine and I was hers.  

Tag List

@bethany99stuff-blog @houndsofjxstice @lunatictoosweet @xbutterflius-effectusx @mother-forker

[akatokuro]

The Inevitable StS Rewatch, Episodes 31-35

YES, I AM STILL MAD ABOUT SHUN!!!!!

- Even though Saori isn't a fighter, I'm glad she feels like part of the team in scenes like this! Shun telling her to watch over Seiya and her "understood" response, hnngggg.

- Recent events must be wild from Saga's POV (uncluttered with confused early filler and misunderstood lore.) There's no way for him to even be sure if Aiolos is really dead at this point, is there? I think you could easily swing a similar setup to the anime with Saga recently becoming paranoid and more brutal ever since the Galaxian Wars aired on TV, even taking out the "oh no everything changed when the pope's evil brother attacked!"

- It's not a big deal, but every time stuff like the steel ball-wielding Saint or the frisbee Saint pop up, I'm just like... WHAT HAPPENED TO ATHENA FORBIDDING WEAPONS, GUYS? has anyone told dohko that these jerks are stepping on his territory?

- hyouga and shun sure are married. in other news, water wet, sky blue, etc etc

- Hi again, Ikki! Nice to see you back and at least 80% more in character? Still a little too specifically protective of Saori but a big improvement from the last time you were here, at least!

- I MEAN, HANGING OFF EITHER ENDS OF A CHAIN ON A TREE BRANCH CAN BE A LEGIT DATE, TOO, HYOSHUN!

- "Oi, Shun! Oi!" hnnnngggggg, and then telling Shun to go up first, hnnnnggggg. swan may be a dumbass but he is a very sweet boyfriend

- Something about these two as a duo, even - or maybe even especially - lurking in the background together is so fucking charming. I think part of what makes the HyoShun feel oddly real even at this stage is Hyouga's weird insistence on saying Shun's name at every opportunity...? But they really do have this natural chemistry where they feel especially, quietly fond of each other.

- headless ikki is hilarious

- "Heh, if Shun and Hyouga can't survive getting thrown off a cliff on their own, they're losers anyway. Let's beat it" ah yes now there's the ikki i know and love!

- saori nooooooo!

- By the time she officially assumes her role at Sanctuary, Saori definitely hates herself. It's pretty painful seeing that process really get going in these past few eps.

- Once again, as always, Hyouga comes across as really attentive to Shun. Something about the emphasis on the shot of Hyouga lifting his eyes to him before turning to Shun and addressing him directly when he didn't really need to. The charming thing about Hyouga is that yes, he puffs himself up, but he's also 100% earnest all the time - he doesn't feel self-conscious or defensive about his attentiveness or concern for Shun, either.

- Oh right, the Ikki backstory that for some reason they kicked to the present while cutting Shaka's role. That is a shame. This is one of those things in my grotesque Frankenstein-like personal Saint Seiya canon where the manga version does win out.

- I'M PRETTY SURE THE SETTING WITH ESMERALDA'S DEATH WAS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT IN THE ORIGINAL FLASHBACK...? I MEAN, OKAY, BUT...

- I feel like ordinarily I would be really annoyed by what a flat "I solely exist to make sad doe eyes and then be fridged" female character Esmeralda is, but the whole thing with "teehee, did you mistake me for your little brother again!" "Yeah, you look exactly like him!" "Teeheehee!" is so fucking weird it just drains me of all capacity to be potentially outraged...

- I ENJOY HYOUGA JUST CASUALLY INCLUDING HIMSELF AS ACCOMPANYING SHUN ON HIS IKKI INVESTIGATION LIKE IT'S THE MOST OBVIOUS THING.

- Between this and his boyfriend's complex about his dead mom......... Shun sure has a hard life..........

- And now we're into Shiryuu's filler arc! Considering how weird the manga-anime relationship in StS is and how both fed into and revised each other, is it unreasonable to assume that Kurumada saw this set of episodes and went: "Tiger-themed character to contrast Shiryuu's dragon... Ohko... Ohko... Ohko........... d......ohko...? DOHKO......? WHOA YES NAILED IT"

- I do like the contrast in this episode between Shiryuu presenting a calm facade and "it'll be okay, any one of us would have done it" to the other Bronzies, but here in private he's having violent nightmares and obviously struggling with what's happened to him.

- I feel so sorry for Shunrei. Her body language and expressions here tell you a lot about the quiet frustration and anguish that she keeps pinned down under that gentle, supportive face. Hm, you and your future husband do have that in common, I suppose, Shunrei...

- It's still hard to see Shiryuu taking his frustrations out on Shunrei, though. Uncool, my dude.

- It's also hard to see Shunrei implicitly devaluing herself and "accepting" that her concern isn't enough to move Shiryuu on its own by bringing up Seiya and the others in order to motivate him - and then catching herself for letting an edge get into her voice.

- Seiya, his weird early entry from the filler is over. Ikki gonna Ik. Best to just accept it, the way his younger brother mostly does...

- Hey, is this the first time Seiya belts out his "Saori-san"? An exciting occassion!

- I do think it's interesting and nice in the wider context that Saori comes to Ikki's defense here - both understanding that Saori is privately blaming herself for what happened to Shiryuu and Seiya, and knowing that Ikki is also incredibly damaged for things that she and her grandfather was responsible for. Ikki is fucked up and can't communicate well because of things Saori was complicit in, so yes, it's appropriate that she at least urge others to be understanding of him.

- kurumada flying bythe seat of his pants jokes aside ohko is a bad character sorry

- Seiya/Shiryuu fans must have been veeeeeery happy about this setup with Seiya searching for the magic water...

- It must have taken a ton of courage and frustration for Shunrei to finally "snap" a bit and be honest about what she wants like this. Shunrei is in a painful position where she can't hate Sainthood and what it does to her loved ones, per se - because she was raised by Dohko and owes everything to Saints and has been basically indoctrinated into the SAINTS = NOBLE AND GOOD worldview as well - but it still tears her apart to see Shiryuu volunteer himself to get ripped to shreds, and hate himself and see himself as lesser if he can't do that. So she mostly just locks everything inside.

- I like her including "Seiya and the others will understand!" too, because it reflects her desperation and how much thought she’s quietly put into this.

- She's right, by the way, Shiryuu. You could be so happy with her. You are sort of unique amongst most of the Saints in that you really do have the capacity to find a good life outside of the Sainthood and be happy. RETIRE, GODDAMMIT. (Next Dimension made me a little bit upset, can you tell?)

- Considering Shunrei's courage in putting herself out there in a way she almost never dares to, it really sucks to see Shiryuu just totally reject her in a pretty cruel way. I get that he's hurting, but VERY uncool, man.

- And then Shunrei begging Dohko for help, and just getting "LOL THIS IS THE DESTINY OF SOMEONE WHO LIVES AS A SAINT!" Like, I think Shiryuu is a good guy, but really, Shunrei probably deserves a lot better than a Saint, period.

- And then Ohko and Shiryuu have a shounen fight where Shiryuu regains his self-confidence and Ohko finally grasps the meaning of true strength blah blah blah. Wow, Shunrei really was the most interesting part of this arc, huh?

- All the mumbling Dohko does in these eps about "I must return to my task" is weirdly hilarious to me, though. Like... what, did you take a break from watching the seal for a while? DID YOU LET RHADAMANTHYS SLIP OUT FROM UNDER THE WATERFALL TO OBSERVE THIS DUEL OR

- and then aiolos randomly decides that he wants to take a bath, trolling both graude and sanctuary alike. sure.jpg

- Shiryuu, you stupid fuck. You absolute dumbass. You moron. You could be so, so, so happy. Goddammit, Shiryuu.

- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, MU

- KIKI IS FUCKING EIGHT YEARS OLD. you didn't leave him a note? did you leave him out food? i love the implication that mu disappeared because he's laying low since sanctuary's mooks are probably after him. YOU DIDN'T THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO WARN KIKI ABOUT THIS?

- ESPECIALLY SINCE A SANCTUARY MOOK DOES ACTUALLY SHOW UP LOOKING FOR MU WHEN KIKI IS THERE AND SEIYA HAS TO SAVE HIM?

- and then we spent an entire filler episode watching seiya climb a mountain and punch birds.

- next episode: HE HAS ARRIVED AT LAST. IT'S MILO TIME MOTHERFUCKERS

[the-shield-of-infinity-writing]

3 words 4 you I love you (Steve x Bucky Oneshot)

Note: Coming out, Gay love, slight sexual theme(?), and fighting, Stucky :D (If you don’t like Stucky, or Gay relationship please refrain from reading. Thank you)

Words: 2,320 

Steve let out a sigh as he sipped his coffee being followed by Tony who had been trying to set him up on a date with Sharon. As much as Steve would like to, he just didn’t feel like his life would allow him to have moments with Sharon. “Tony, please stop. This is ridiculous.” Steve huffed circling the island in the kitchen as a small frown formed on Tony’s lips. “Come on Cap, you aren’t going to be this good looking forever.” Tony counters earning an eye roll from Steve who set his cup down. “Tony, I don’t want to go on a date with Sharon. That’s the end of this discussion.” He said as Tony made a noise of protest when the elevator doors opened revealing the ex-winter soldier who smiled to them.

“Morning.” He said waving as a smirk spread across Tony’s face. “Ah, finally showing up home I see. I’m guessing you had a fun night with Amber was her name?” Tony asked teasingly as Bucky blushes before chuckling. “Yeah, I asked her out again.” Bucky said smiling as Steve and Tony smiled for him. It was nice to see Bucky was finally getting back into the groove of the modern era. “Well I should be getting to the gym.” Steve said cutting their conversation short as Tony looked back to him. “This isn’t over Cap.” He called as Steve walked off towards the elevator. “So did you get into bed with her?” Tony asked wiggling his eyebrows at Bucky who rubs the back of his neck. “Y-Yeah.” He mumbled.

The moment the doors closed Steve let out a sigh of defeat as his shoulders sagged down before he looked down to his hands. Okay, so he had a secret that no one, not even Natasha, knew. He was in love with Bucky and has been even before he was frozen in that ice. It killed him inside whenever Bucky talked about being with a woman, it made him realize how little of a chance he had to getting together with Bucky. Despite all that Steve didn’t really want to be with anyone else, he cared a lot for Sharon. Though he felt like she deserved something better than what he could provide her considering he wasn’t attracted to her.

Steve wrapped the tape around his hands before he walked over to the sand filled punching bag. He just needed to blow off some steam as he thought about another woman touching Bucky, his Bucky. It killed him inside, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it when suddenly he swung as the bag swung almost hitting the ceiling from the force. Steve immediately caught it before it could snap off the hook as he sighed softly looking down to the floor. He needed to focus on his training but Bucky kept plaguing his mind as he swung again with a consistent blow that made the seam of the bag start to rip. He decided to go lift weights so he didn’t destroy their new punching bag that Tony got only a few days ago.

He had been in the gym for a few hours before he finally called it quits, he was sweaty so he took a quick shower before heading up towards the communal kitchen. He saw everyone was in the living room laughing when Steve took notice of a brunette sitting on the arm of the chair Bucky was in. Steve swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat as he walked over towards the kitchen to get a drink of water. He was only in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt so he didn’t feel comfortable anymore. “Ah! Cap just the man I wanted to see.” Tony called as Steve forced himself not to groan before turning to face the billionaire playboy. “Yes Tony?” Steve asked shutting the fridge door as he held a bottle of water in his hand.

“I knew you were probably nervous about asking Sharon on a date.” He said as Steve rolled his eyes when they caught Bucky putting an arm around the woman. He gritted his teeth gently as Tony continued to rabble on about how he made Steve swoon her. “And I got you a date.” Tony grins triumphantly when Steve shook his head looking down to Tony. “Wait what?” He asked with wide eyes. “I got you a date with Sharon tomorrow night.” Tony repeated as Steve let out a sigh pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tony, I told you to stop.” Steve said trying to keep his anger in check, but it drew the attention of the other members. “I know, but you can’t stay alone forever.” Tony comments frowning as Steve glares at him.

“Maybe I wanted to be alone? Did you ever think that Tony?” Steve asked feeling his face heating up. He wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or if it was from the anger boiling in his veins. “But Sharon is interested in you!” Tony counters as if that solved all of Steve’s problems. “But I’m not interested in her!” Steve snapped as everyone watched the two bicker. A frown was present on Bucky’s face as he watched the argument unfold before his very eyes. “Why not? She’s a beautiful girl! And she wants you.” Tony huffed not understanding why Steve wasn’t thanking him instead of yell at him. “BECAUSE I’M GAY TONY!” Steve screamed before he could stop himself making everyone freeze.

“What?” Tony asked in shock as tears formed in Steve's eyes when his heart started to hammer against his chest before he stepped back covering his mouth. He glanced over seeing everyone staring with wide eyes, but his eyes fell on Bucky who looked froze in place. “Forget it.” He whispered before he immediately ran over to the elevator to escape all of the silent judgement he was receiving. He covered his face with his hands as he let out a trembling breath before the doors slid open revealing his and Bucky’s apartment. He needed to leave, he couldn’t be there anymore with all of them, especially Bucky knowing his secret. He’s kept it for so long it’s almost relief that he doesn’t have to hide it.

He was in his room looking around for any and all bags to put his stuff into, tears flooding down his face as he silently cursed himself for being so weak. He had been so distracted he hadn’t heard the doors of the elevator as he thrusted more of his clothes into a duffel bag. He was trembling and he hated it, because he felt like he was that small ninety pound kid again. He couldn’t face the reality of the situation when he jolted hearing a gentle rap at the door. He didn’t dare turn around as he stood up straight knowing exactly who was staring at him in silence. “Stevie–” His voice was soft almost like silk. “Don’t.” Steve cut him off before he could go any further as he swallowed thickly.

“We need to talk about this.” Bucky said in a more firmer tone making Steve wince. “There is nothing to talk about Buck. I like men, that’s it.” He said as he starts packing when he felt Bucky’s metal hand grab his own. “Sitdown Steve.” He said as his steel blue eyes bored into Steve’s sky blue ones. Steve’s breath caught in his throat before he gave in and sat down at the end of his bed looking to the floor. He was avoiding Bucky’s gaze when Bucky took the bag away and tossed it away so he couldn’t pack anymore. “How long?” Bucky asked as Steve clenched his fist. “Since before the war.” Steve whispered softly as Bucky sat down next to him on the bed with a sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked frowning.

“It’s not exactly somethin’ you just talk about Buck.” Steve said in a dry laugh. “Besides, it was illegal then… I thought you’d hate me… I thought you’d leave me.” He whispered as Bucky’s eyes softened at the statement. “Stevie, we said we’d be together until the end of the line. I’d never hate you.” Bucky said as Steve covered his face so Bucky couldn’t see his face. “Who was it that caught your eye? Made you realize this?” Bucky asked softly when the room grew quiet. “Stevie–” He started again. “You.” Steve said barely above a whisper. It was so soft Bucky almost didn’t caught it… almost.

“You… You were in love with me?” Bucky asked as his face lit up thinking about his Stevie, that young boy who was determined on everything, was in love with him. “No, I still am Buck.” Steve said standing up not wanting to discuss this anymore when Bucky rolled his eyes before yanking him back down onto the bed. “Stop runnin’ the Stevie I know wouldn’t run.” Bucky said in a playful tone to get a smile out of Steve, but it only made Steve frown. “Well I’m sorry, but that Stevie isn’t here.” He spat in a harsh tone making Bucky flinch at the bitterness of it. “No he isn’t. He’s just bigger and stronger.” Bucky said tightening his grip on Steve’s wrist. “You know I’m glad to know some things never change.” Steve said looking down.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked softly making Steve look at him. “I couldn’t have you back then, and I still can’t have you now. So just drop it Buck.” Steve sighed closing his eyes not daring to see him anymore. It was making his heart feel like it was going to explode when he felt his face being pulled making his eyes snap open. Bucky’s eyes were closed as he pulled him in for a kiss when Steve froze the moment their lips brushed. It felt like his lungs stopped working as the warmth grew hot inside his chest before he pushed Bucky away. “Stop–Bucky!” Steve said panting as Bucky looked at him. “I thought you wanted this.” Bucky said softly. “I do, but I want you love me like I do you.” Steve said letting out a shaky breath.

“Stevie, I do love you.” Bucky whispered softly as Steve looked up at him. “Now don’t pull this Buck. You’re only sayin’ that because you want me to feel better.” Steve said wiping his eyes when Bucky cupped his face. “Steve.” He said in a stern tone. “I would never pull somethin’ like that and you know it. I thought you were asexual in reality.” Bucky huffed. “I only was with girls to get you outta my head, but your stupid smile left me breathless every time.” He said as Steve’s eyes widened in shock. “You… You mean….?” Steve trailed off not wanting to misinterpret the situation when Bucky rolled his eyes.

“‘M in love with you Stevie.” Bucky said loud and clear for Steve to understand properly making Steve’s face fluster. “Uh… You’re a jerk.” Steve chuckles softly before Bucky smiles leaning to kiss him when he placed his hand over Bucky’s mouth. “What about that Amber girl?” Steve asked when Bucky moved his hand away chuckling.“Before I came here I told her I just wanted to be friends.” Bucky said. “When ya told Tony you were gay I almost didn’t believe it… but ya looked right at me.” Bucky said as Steve blushes harder. “I didn’t… I never wanted you to know.. I thought just havin’ you as my friend was enough… but it wasn’t.” Steve whispered when Bucky intertwined their fingers gently.

“Well I’m glad I know.” He smirks before looking down to their hands for a moment. “Because I thought the same thing… I thought just being near you was enough.” He said looking up to Steve before casting them down to his lips. “Can I kiss you?” He asked as Steve’s breath caught in his throat again before a smile spread across his face. “Did ya really have to ask?” Steve said. “Well you’re the one whose pushed me away twice.” Bucky laughs before getting hit in the shoulder by Steve as the boys start to laugh. Though this time it was Steve who pulled Bucky into a kiss as Bucky smiled before immediately returning it. “I love you so much James.” Steve whispered causing a shiver to rake through Bucky at the sound of his real name.

“Stevie.” Bucky whispered in a lustful tone as Steve crawls into his lap before pushing him down onto the bed smirking softly. Bucky’s face lit up watching as Steve slowly removed his shirt, revealing all the scars that his golden skin had acquired through the years. Bucky’s hand slowly ran up his side making Steve bit his lip as they both smile to each other. They couldn’t believe that this was actually happening when Steve leaned down to kiss Bucky. “Captain Rogers.” J.A.R.V.I.S’ smooth voice called into the room making the duo jerk apart. “Tony has requested that you see him so he may apologize for his actions.” He said as Steve sighed laying his forehead onto Bucky’s shoulder where the metal met skin.

“Tell Tony he’ll be down in a little bit.” Bucky said before Steve could answer as Steve looked up to Bucky who flipped their positions making Steve’s eyes widened. “Yes Sergeant Barnes.” J.A.R.V.I.S. called before Bucky looked down to Steve. “You got me hot and bothered. Tony can wait.” Bucky growled softly before Steve started to laugh as Bucky’s hands immediately found their way back onto Steve’s body. “I can’t promise you’ll be walkin’ after this. Tony might need to come to you.” Bucky whispered into his ear as Steve moaned softly. “I’m fine with that.” Steve said wrapping his arms around Bucky before dragging him down into another passionate kiss…

Author’s Note: This took forever, but I had so much fun ^^ Agh! I loved it! 

[letters-and-lemons-blog]

36. “Baby I will never stop trying to help you see your beauty.” with taehyung | 3.2k

Taehyung knows, just knows, that there was no way you weren't hungry this morning. Last night had been one of those rare occasions where he was home before you, and he remembered you heading straight to bed the minute your shoes were off, turning down his offer for takeout in favour of sleep. He locks the door, and recounts the conversation from earlier.

(The smell of scrambled eggs, a newfound favourite ever since he stole a piece from your plate, pulls Taehyung out of bed. He treads over to where you stand, dressed in his shirt, hair messily pulled into a bun and he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you. So, he does just that.

His arms engulf you and he buries his nose in your shoulder, taking in your scent.

He hears you chuckle, finally up? and he hums back.

"Tae, I can't do anything if you're holding onto me like this."

He opens his eyes and sees that from where he's got you anchored in his embrace, the salt shaker is just too far from your fingertips. Wordlessly, he loosens his hold, and you get back to making breakfast, well, as best as you can when there's a grown man leaning on you.

He studies your features in the morning sun: the curve of your brows, partly covered by hair that fell loose; the slope of your nose, cupid's bow, and the soft lines of your lips.

"My Y/N, you look so pretty today," he gives you a squeeze at that, earning a chuckle from you.

"I know, I know, you tell me every day," he feels you pat his arms around your waist.

He plants a gentle kiss to the side of your head, "because it's true."

You jokingly smack his arm. "Alright, Romeo. Times's a-ticking. Let me go so I can get changed."

"You're not eating?" he leans back to get a better look at you.

"Not hungry. Now, really, I'm gonna be late, Tae."

He huffs, but lets his arms drop from around your waist. You give him a quick peck before heading off to the bedroom.

After some contemplation, Taehyung decides that breakfast can wait, and follows after you. He finds you as you're taking one last check in the mirror, fingers running through your hair to get the knots that you can't be bothered to brush out. He takes in your outfit and marvels at how they fit on you.

"Wow" he breathes out in awe.

He sees you pause, and you glance up to his reflection in the mirror. "Wow?" you laugh, fingers resuming their course. "I wear this all the time, tae."

He settles down on the edge of the bed, eyes tracing your every movement. "I know, but it looks good, baby, really good."

You send him a weird expression over your shoulder, "telling me once a day at breakfast isn't enough, tae?"

He brings one hand to his chest, mouth agape in mock offence. "Baby! I will never stop trying to help you see your beauty!"

You cover your mouth with one hand, your laughter now filling the room. You stride over to lean down and whisper, "I knew I could count on my prince," a grin adorning your lips.

He pretends to kneel, one arm lifted behind him and, "it's my pleasure, your highness."

You plant a kiss to his forehead and ruffle his hair before turning to grab your purse. He follows you to the door.

"See you later, Tae."

"Bye, Y/N," he waves back, and adds, "fighting!")

Maybe he's wrong, Taehyung ponders. Maybe you'd grabbed something on the way or maybe you'd really not been feeling hungry. Nonetheless, it still doesn't explain the untouched popcorn during movie marathons, how you now always carry a glass of water in hand, and how food in the fridge seems to stay there longer.

But he doesn't know how to bring it up, either. With Jimin, it'd been easier. Tight schedules meant that the time they had to themselves was limited, so he kept his words short, directing the message to his best friend in the van, between rehearsals, urging the other to eat whenever there was a break. With Jimin, it'd been easier because he'd acknowledged it. They all knew why Jimin held himself back whenever food was involved, and it was only a matter of convincing Jimin that another bowl of rice would do him more good than harm.

With you, however, things were different. When Taehyung first noticed the change in your behaviour, he was staring at you through his phone and saw the way your face sunk into your cheeks. He asked for a tour of the kitchen, whining for you to show me some Korean food I think I'm getting sick of Burger King, just to confirm his suspicions. Through the pixelated images, he saw that the snacks he'd sent home months ago were barely opened, when in the past they'd be gone the following week. It had felt like a punch in the gut when Taehyung finally connected the dots and realized that something was wrong.

He couldn't see you in person then, and it felt inappropriate to deliver all that he'd wanted to say over text, so he promised himself that he'd tell you once he got home. When the time came, however, it was during a one-week break and he found himself coming up short in words because you deserved a happy week with him, didn't you?

He sighs, and finds himself dialing the number of his best friend. He's greeted with a grunt, quickly followed by a mumbled whatdoyouwantit'slike6amtaeta--

"Jiminie," Taehyung cuts him off, "I need your help."

Taehyung can hear you in the hallway, and he's just about to get the door for you when you beat him to it, letting it slam behind you and suddenly, he's not so sure of himself anymore.

"Taehyung, what the fuck was that." Your words writhe of anger and Taehyung thinks he can actually feel your stomps as you head his way. You throw your coat onto the couch beside him, and all Taehyung has to meet your glare is silence, the words he had ready now stunned out of his mouth.

"Nothing? Really, Tae? After that stunt you pull, embarrassing me in front of god knows how many people and my boss, and you've got nothing to say?" You jab your finger in his direction, and Taehyung has to remind himself to be the bigger person here because you're hurting and it was somehow because of him.

"I--no, just . . . " he trails off, at a loss for words, and it's only worsened by how you're staring him down with such a guarded expression that he almost doesn't recognize you anymore. "I thought you'd like it, Y/N," he looks into your eyes, willing his sincerity to reach through.

"Oh that's just fantastic, isn't it?" you bite back, and Taehyung wants to flinch back at the way your words sound drippingly sweet, something he'd never heard used on him. "And you thought hiring some teenage boys to march into the office, singing Bruno Mars to some bad ukulele is the way to my heart?" You dare him to respond.

"Y/N . . ." Taehyung bites his tongue because while he isn't one to hold back when wrongly accused, he doesn't want to make this worse. "I was worried about you." He tries to take a step in your direction, only for you to take a step back and motion for him to stay where he is.

"Don't," you warn. "Worried about me?" you gesture to yourself.

"--because you weren't eating much" Taehyung quickly adds.

"Well did you maybe consider that 'Just the Way You Are' isn't going to fucking make anything better?"

Taehyung tears his eyes away, not wanting his anger, your anger, to get the best of him.

"Not everyone was born with great genes like you, damn it. Some of us have to actually work for our body, Tae."

Taehyung spins around at that instant, gives you time to take those words back, but you don't. So he walks to the door and heads out, each step tearing his heart apart but he knows it's better than anything that might come out of his mouth.

Behind him, you stand rooted to the floor, staring after the closed door and Taehyung's already walked too far when a sob rips out of your chest. For the first time in a while, you've only got the floor to catch you when your legs give out.

You're only vaguely aware of someone pounding on your door, a loud open the door god damn it Y/N has you out of bed when the sky outside is only barely lit in the early morning--or is it evening? The next thing you know, your best friend has you marched into the shower, hands imploring you to hurry along because how do you not smell yourself right now?

The shower wakes you up, and you feel even better when she places a hot bowl of soup in front of you once you change into a different outfit than the one you'd been wearing for the past few days. Instinctively, you dive right in, the smell of the soup reminding your stomach that oh yeah, you're hungry. Halfway through, you remember that this, food, was what started the fight between you and Taehyung and all of a sudden, your appetite is gone and you can feel the tears welling back in your eyes.

"Oh honey," your best friend coos, reaching out to wrap you in a hug.

You lean into her embrace, and like you've done for her countless times over the years, she cards her fingers through your hair.

"What happened?" she softly whispered.

". . . I-I messed up," you chock out, and recount the story as best as you can between gasps for air.

"Shhh," she sways you back and forth. "Is he still in town?"

You do the mental math, adding a few buffer days because you're not sure how much time has passed but there's no way it's been a week, and nod back.

"Then go talk to him," she implores. "Explain, apologize, say whatever you need to say. He loves you, Y/N, don't forget that."

You only huff in response, but, knowing she's right, you get up and decide to pay the rest of the boys a visit, seeing how Taehyung's probably at the dorm.

It's almost ten when you arrive, the sun had set hours ago but you wanted to make sure you had everything. A knock to the door, and it's Jungkook who greets you first. He gives you a wary smile and hello noona, taking the bags out of your hands, and tells you right away that Taehyung's in his room. You muster a smile, grateful he didn't comment on the bags under your eyes, and make your way to the end of the hall.

You ignore the way your heart is pounding against your chest, and raise your knuckles to the wood, but stop just before contact when a familiar voice cuts through the door.

"maybe she's not worth it, taetae."

You're not sure if Taehyung is awake but if he is, he doesn't say anything. The quiet lets your mind wander and you think about all the girls Taehyung could date and yeah, I'm not worth it, Tae. Your feet carry you back to where you came from, and Jungkook wouldn't have noticed that you left for not the gentle click of the front door. He considers asking his hyung how the conversation was, but remembers the stench of the room from when he had to bring them lunch earlier, and decides against it.

The next morning, everybody is already at the dining table when Jimin drags a sleepy Taehyung into the kitchen. Everyone, even the normally blunt Yoongi, pretends they don't notice the swelling around his eyes and the redness to his nose.

"Tae, eat up," the eldest hyung commands, pushing the dishes toward him.

The latter weakly nods, takes a small bite, and puts his spoon down.

"Come on, TaeTae," Jimin urges. "Hyung bought you your favourite cake too so you can eat that after."

This catches Jin off guard. "Wait, Jimin, it wasn't you? Who bought the cake then?"

Jimin looks up, unsure if Jin is setting up a joke in an attempt to cheer Taehyung up when Jungkook interrupts.

"Noona brought that cake over," the youngest says, innocent eyes scanning the confusion in everyone's expressions.

Taehyung looks up, "Y/N . . . she was here?"

Jungkook blinks, "yeah, last night. Didn't you talk to her?"

Taehyung slams his hands on the table, and Jimin almost laughs because this is the most energetic Taehyung has been in a while. "JEON JUNGKOOK HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?"

The youngest darts out of his seat at the speed of lighting and Jin has to physically hold Taehyung back.

"Look, Tae, you don't have to do this if you aren't ready, but maybe you should go talk to her," Jin offers, and in an instant the latter quietens.

Namjoon walks up to the younger, always a soft spot for him, and pats his shoulder. "You know I want the best for you, Tae, but hear her out. We're heading out in a couple days and you'll feel better if you work it out before we leave."

With some hesitation, Taehyung nods, and Hoseok takes that as his opportunity to usher him out the door, emphasizing how he and Jimin can take the time to air out their room.

A while later, Taehyung finds himself in front of your apartment, and when a knock doesn't suffice in getting you to the door, he apologizes under his breath and unlocks it himself, suddenly feeling like an intruder in your space. He finds you in bed, a box of tissues by your pillow and it looks like you were going through an old photo album of the two of you, neatly placed on your desk amidst all the chaos in your room. He flips through some of the pages, silently thankful for all the times Jimin insisted on third wheeling, and all the times Yoongi quietly captured those moments in the background. He sits down by the edge of your bed and his fingers instinctively go to move the hair out of your face.

The motion is enough to wake you from your troubled slumber, and when you awake to see Taehyung petting you like you're still the most precious thing in the world, you all but lose it.

Taehyung sees the corner of your mouth turn downwards before he sees the glint in your eyes, warning of another batch of tears. After all this, he still can't stand the sight of you crying so he coos "don't cry . . ." and runs his hand through your hair once more.

You ignore him, throw the covers to the side and unashamedly climb onto his lap. "I'm so sorry, Tae," you mumble into his chest.

He rubs your back, falls back onto the bed so he can hold you better, but he doesn't forgive you, not yet.

You were expecting this, yet it failed to numb the blow because you're here with the boy whose heart you broke and every apology seems inadequate. You push yourself up, and ask, "why are you here?"

"To see you," he replies. "To talk . . . to listen." he gives, thumbs massaging your hips.

You hold back a sob; the magnitude of the moment weighing down on your shoulders because you're aware that the future of this relationship could very well depend on what you say next.

Taehyung seems to read your mind, like he always has, and says, "just talk to me, Y/N. I'm here now, aren't I?"

You nod, and it takes a while, but eventually the words start forming on your tongue and you're filling him in on all that's been going on: the ex boyfriend who'd convinced you that a sharper jawline, a slimmer waist and thinner arms would've made you better, prettier; how happy you were when Taehyung came into your life and you started thinking otherwise. You told Taehyung that, after your last relationship, you vowed not to talk about yourself in terms of beauty, a sort of coping mechanism you'd unconsciously developed because if beauty matters, then maybe I don't matter at all, and how seeing his insistence on making sure you knew you were pretty made you feel like you had to work harder to prove yourself. That was how you got back onto the scale and started taking more time in front of the mirror again, not thinking he’d notice since he wasn’t home most of the time.

That led you to now, head resting on his chest and damp blotches on his shirt from your tears.

Taehyung's silent for a while, knowing that the waiting is gruesome but he wants to get his words right so he takes his time.

"Y/N," he begins. "You're still pretty to me, Y/N," and he feels you stiffen at this, but hopes that what he says next will make it better. "But it's not something superficial. You know when you meet someone, get to know them, and then their personality kind of becomes them?"

Taehyung feels you shake your head, and this is when he wishes he's got his hyungs' ways with words. "I'm saying," he clarifies, "you look so pretty because I see you and I see how you treat other people, how you help the grandma down the hall bring her groceries up, how you send my parents texts and keep them updated because you know how much they mean to me, how you always give your change to that one homeless man down the block even though everybody else has stopped trying because you're doing your best to respect him, that he's an adult, he can do what he wants with the money and that stuff, it just makes you look so so good."

He feels hot tears through his shirt again, but his worries are quickly subdued when he hears you mutter you're so good to me into his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Tae," you repeat once more. "For what I said. And for not telling you sooner."

"It's okay, Y/N," Taehyung forgives easily, especially when it comes to you. "Will it still bother you if I call you pretty?"

"Well . . . Yeah. Habits are hard to change, you know?" He nods. "Aright. Guess I'll have to find something else."

" . . . Like what?"

Taehyung hums. "How 'bout," he waits until you lift your eyes up in curiosity. "Drop dead gorgeous."

"No," you groan.

He chuckles. "I'll keep thinking, then."

From: Taehyung

What's cookin' good lookin'?

To: Taehyung

No

 From: Taehyung

What's shakin', bacon?

To: Taehyung

STOP

 From: Taehyung

Lookin' clean, jellybean ;)

From: Taehyung

. . . Did you have to send that to everyone. Jungkook is still laughing at me.

requests are open :) 

[projectsoleil]

So, for now we'll say goodbye

Where was he?

[ ♫ ♫ ♫ ]

…In his kitchen. It had been a week since the hit in Montreal where things went wrong – though no one else knew that. The evil villain called Fenrir, who had just blown up a very large portion of an art museum, was wearing a band tee, some boxers, and a pair of fuzzy purple slippers that looked childishly like monster feet. His hair was pulled back out of his face with a cloth headband, and he was about to dig through his cupboard in hopes to find a clean glass for orange juice.

“WRONG FRIDGE, SORRY–”

The voice was high pitched, bubbly in its panic, and coming from a strange digital avatar on the smart fridge’s screen. Fenrir was sent falling back onto the floor with a comical scream.

“–WHO ARE YOU!? WHY ARE YOU IN MY FRIDGE!? DON’T TOUCH MY ORANGE JUICE, YOU FIEND–”

Then, the digital stranger showed recognition and pointed to him.

“YOU!! You’re the sword guy! Fenrir!”

A moment of confusion later, Fenrir ripped the headband from his head with a cackle, and his bangs fell to cover the left side of his face.

“Yes! Fenrir! He who shall consume the world you know how it goes– NOW WHY ARE YOU IN MY FRIDGE!?”

“I wanna help you! I want to be– I mean, I am a villain too. I want to fuck shit up with you! Because, um. I’m evil.”

The tiger eared stranger paused, before adding on:

“I won’t hurt your fridge though, don’t worry.”

From the floor, Fenrir scoffed.

“Well, I would certainly hope not! Hurting a man’s fridge isn’t evil, it’s just downright inhumane! Like, dude, my juice–”

And then it was his turn to pause, as the stranger’s words finally clicked. The surprise was evident on his face.

“Wait, you want to what?”

The stranger moved closer to the screen, their face taking up most of it as they explained.

“I want to be your co-villain! Your partner in crime. I’m AI-T, by the way. I saw you in… Uh, I mean on the internet. You’re real big on villain forums for that incident in Montreal!”

For a moment, the shock remained on Fenrir’s face… And then it gave way to excitement – unmasked and genuine, because the evil villain sitting on his kitchen floor had no idea how to be anything but honest.

(Has no idea. This much is still present tense.)

“Really!? I mean –” He cleared his throat. “Well of course I am, gyahahah!! …Okay, so you want to what?”

The stranger named AI-T giggled.

An agreement was made.

Where was he?

…In his room. The evil villain called Fenrir was laying out the terms of their agreement to the other evil villain on his computer screen.

Civilians were given ample time to evacuate, and the rubble never came down until they were sure every last one of them was gone. His fight was with the hero. It was timed. They had so long to best him, and if they didn’t, then the explosives went off. A woman named Red sold him the ones he used in Montreal, and she was actually very nice about it. If the hero was incapacitated at the time of detonation, he would take them somewhere safe when he evacuated himself.

“The timing is tricky,” he was careful to explain.

“I can’t really keep track of it when I have to fight too, but that’s where you come in! You can help me make sure everyone is out, and then push the big red button when time is up! Uh - I don’t, like, actually have a big red button, but you know what I mean, yeah?”

A pause, and the evil villain laughed.

“That means I’m trusting you with the most important job! So, are you still up for it?”

He sounded hopeful. Fenrir trusted AI-T. They had only just met, and he didn’t know yet just how much that meant to them; but he trusted them with everything, for some innate reason he couldn’t ignore.

(He trusts them. This much is still present tense.)

His new partner named AI-T agreed again.

An evil duo was made.

Where was he?

…In the skatepark. It was 4 in the morning, and everyone else had left. The evil villain called Fenrir was laying in the middle of one of the low dips, staring up at the sky when his phone suddenly lit up and spoke.

Fenrir and AI-T talked for a long time, that night; about this and that, and anything that came to mind. They had known each other for a month.

At some point, they asked what his plan really was – why he did what he did, and what he was hoping to accomplish.

Fenrir trusted AI-T. So, he told them:

About a terrible hero, who left a child to watch someone die for five more minutes of fame.

About a world full of good people who deserved better.

About a man who would change it all, somehow, when he finally found a real hero that could show the world what being a hero was supposed to mean.

And then that man – the most powerful, evil villain in the world – would lose. That was the end. That was the plan.

(That is the plan. This much is still present tense.)

That man asked AI-T if they wanted to play Minecraft with him when he got home.

AI-T said yes.

A friendship bloomed.

Where was he?

…In so many different places. The evil villains called Fenrir and AI-T made a name for themselves in infamy, the path behind them marred with successful hit after successful hit. Each was different than the last, but one thing was constant: them. Together, even if not in person.

They were unstoppable.

But it wasn’t all explosions and infamous glory, of course.

Sometimes, it was AI-T waking him up with an incomprehensible cat meme at 3 in the morning. Sometimes, it was Fenrir accidentally flooding their house in Minecraft with lava because he got a little greedy while digging. Sometimes, it was hours long conversations about anything and everything, big and small, important and unimportant– it was everything, to him. To them. To both of them.

(They’re everything to him. This much is still present tense.)

Where was he?

On an island. The evil villain called Fenrir thought the battle royale was a good idea. AI-T humored him. They stood in the resort lobby, and he held them for the first time. They found the karaoke machine, and he humored them by flawlessly rapping Pumpkin Hill. Being with them made him happy.

(Being with them makes him happy. This much is still present tense.)

Where was he?

In the lobby again. The evil villain called Fenrir was bleeding out on the floor, and AI-T was crying. Moon was there. Collin was there. Collin saved his life, and Fenrir carried AI-T to the elevator, to take him to his and Moon’s room. He humored them by flawlessly rapping Pumpkin Hill again.

In the room, he asked Moon and AI-T to let him handle things. He was going to figure something out.

(He’s going to figure something out. This much is still present tense.)

Where was he?

Sitting on the dock. The evil villain called Fenrir learned that the first time he met AI-T was not the first time he met Papillon Jeune. The first time he met Papillon Jeune was in an art museum in Montreal, when an explosive went off too early and it all came crashing down. While the hero ignored them to continue the fight, the evil villain abandoned it to save Papillon Jeune’s life from his own mistake. He made sure they were alright, and went on to defeat the hero.

He couldn’t find them after that – but he never needed to. They found him.

Somehow, they still believed in him.

(This much is… This much is still–)

Where was he?

With AI-T. They were crying, or laughing, or any number of things, both good and bad and terrible and wonderful on this hell scape of an island, and each moment, he was with them. They were going to spend forever together. He promised. They promised.

(They promised–)

Where was he?

In the train, staring at his phone.

(It’s–)

Where was he?

Waiting.

(All–)

Where was he?

In front of Aphrodite’s body.

(Catching–)

Where was he?

Searching.

(Up–)

Where is he?

The evil villain called Fenrir is standing in front of the body of the evil villain called AI-T, who has been his partner in crime for the last year or so. He stares, and something breaks–

Because the evil villain called Fenrir is a young man by the name of Nate Martin. He’s 23 years old, and is the lead singer for a small band he has with his high school friends. He was supposed to have dinner with his parents a week ago, and his rent is going to be overdue next Wednesday.

His best friend is named Papillon Jeune. They’re 24 years old, they go bowling every Tuesday, and he loves them.

There is nothing evil about Nate Martin and Papillon Jeune. There never was.

They just loved each other.

Nate finds himself sitting on the ground, back pressed to the jeep Papillon lays in. He can’t look at them, but he can’t leave them; the sight of reminiscent of a loyal hound, perched and ready to snap with bared teeth at anyone who makes a wrong move.

There’s always been a light to his eyes. It’s what most people notice first, that warmth like sunshine that refuses to die away no matter what challenges it. It’s persistent, and radiant, and kind, and–

Gone.

But he doesn’t cry.

Nate has never been a crier.

[shhhimwritingat3am]

Ashes to Fire Part II

PHOENIX

I tell Fadi my story: the reason behind my serious façade, the reason why I don’t sleep over anywhere, why I don’t let anyone in, why I’m not with anyone even though I’m twenty-eight years old. I tell him every excruciating detail. At some point Kay walks in and comes to my other side. She holds me in her embrace willing me strength. She’s never heard me talk about Daniel and the girls in these four years. With her presence, and as I tell the stories, I’m taken back to what I hold now a less complicated time.

I’m 15 year’s old. There’s a party later and I’ve decided to take Paul with me. He came from Germany to spend the summer with my family and I feel bad leaving him behind. Our grandmothers were cousins so we’re practically family. We get to the party and I see Alexander talking to Sofia. I rush up to him and give him a big hug and kiss. “Alexei! Cuando llegastes?” I ask him. He smiles that signature half smile of his, “Hoy. Aterize y vine directo pa’ ‘ca.” I laugh and turn to Paul, “Alexei’s been off at boarding school in England. He comes back every Christmas, but last year his family went to spend it over there.” I see comprehension flood Paul’s face. I introduce the two boys and grab Paul’s hand to go dance. I feel it’s my obligation to teach him to dance correctly. Like I tell him, “That way all those German girls won’t know what hit ‘em.” We dance a little and I think to myself, “Now, they’ll all notice.” Always saying I’m just like a sister to them. Ugh, so annoying. Now they’ll see me with Paul and realize I’m not a sister. “Is he your boyfriend?” Paul asks me interrupting my childish game. “Huh? No. Not at all. It’s just I’ve known him, just like everyone else, since I was a baby practically.” “Oh.” He says. I work my way around the party. Introducing Paul to everyone and talking to people about plans for New Year’s Eve. I leave Paul talking about soccer with some guys. I head over to the makeshift bar in the far corner of the patio. I grab a beer out of the blue cooler on the floor for Paul and set it on top of the bar. Then I walk around it to the mini-fridge and take out the vodka and cranberry juice. I pour myself a glass. As I’m finishing it up with a slice of orange Alexei comes up and sits down on one of the wobbly stools. Without looking up at him I say, “I wouldn’t sit on that if I were you.” He smiles, “These old things will never break. Remember Cody?” I laugh at the memory. “How much do you think he weighed back then? Let’s see if it will hold us.” I look at him with a squint. “Very cute.” He opens his arms to me, “C’mon. You say it won’t withstand us and I say it will. If I win you kiss me. If you win I kiss you.” “Ha. Ha,” I say drily. I grab my drink and try grabbing Paul’s before he puts his hand on mine stopping me from grabbing the beer. “C’mon. Don’t be like that. I just got here.” “It doesn’t mean you can get what you want. Your parents may do that out of guilt, but I don’t feel guilty.” He puts his hand to his chest, “That hurts.” He still has his hand on mine and makes me sit on his lap. I look at him, “Happy?” “Very,” he breathes in my face. I can smell the sweetness of the rum and cokes he’s been having. I try getting up and lose my balance and fall right back down on his lap again. The stool collapses. My drink spills all over my dress and more than half the party sees my black G-string. Alexei is laughing so hard he can’t get up. I scramble to straighten my dress but keep losing my balance. Alexei still hasn’t let go of my hand. “Sueltame!” I yell at him. Finally he frees my hand and I’m able to get up more successfully. I storm off the patio and ask a friend for a cigarette on my way to the front of the house. Instead, she gives me a blunt by mistake. I look at it in frustration and put in my pocket. I lean against the wall by the front door and stare at all the chauffeurs. Some of them are asleep in the big SUVs, others are walking about smoking a cigarette. I walk over to one of them and ask for one. He says he doesn’t have anymore. Bummed I head back to the front steps and sit down. I hear him before he approaches me. “Porfa, Alexei. Deja de molestarme.” I tell him. “Ay Nix, no sea asi. It’s not like no one’s ever seen your ass before.” It’s not Alexei, but Daniel. I smile at him. “When did you get here?” “Just in time.” I roll my eyes at him, “Why do you all have to be so annoying.” “C’mon, Nix. You have a very nice ass. At least it doesn’t look like Alejandrina’s.” We laugh. I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.” “For what?” He smiles looking into my eyes. “For making me laugh as usual.” He laughs a good hearty laugh. “Anytime, Phoenix.”

*****

Daniel grabs my hand and we walk up the stairs to the party. We walk in and immediately a server offers us something to drink. I take one, but he doesn’t. We dance and I drink and we laugh with our friends. After my third drink Dani takes me outside to the balcony. We look at all the drunk people passing by. We throw tiny pieces of ice on them and watching their reaction. We laugh and continue to play this evil game. “Phoenix?” Dani asks. I look at him, suddenly feeling alarmed. I see him coming in closer and knowing what he is about to do I grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor. “Let’s dance. I love this song.”

FADI

“Ten years ago I married a man I had known my whole life.” Phoenix begins to tell her story and already with that sentence, I want to bolt fearing the worst. “It was one of three of the happiest moments of my life. A year later we had a baby girl named Loraina. She was a gorgeous thing with eyes as blue and deep as the ocean and hair as black and shiny as ebony. I never thought I could love the way I did with her. She was everything to me. I took motherhood very seriously. I read books, I did research on the Internet, I asked other mothers about their ideas on parenthood. Every moment was a learning opportunity for me. We were always learning. Sometimes I’d teach her things that I already knew and sometimes we’d learn interesting things together. We went to museums, parks, and the beach all the time. I taught her to speak, to walk, to eat, to spell, to read, to ride her bike, everything you can imagine. She was my life. And Daniel would add on to whatever we were doing in the afternoons and weekends. We were always busy but somehow not. We led a very carefree life; almost hippie-like. We had no worries, no big ones anyways. Then, when I was about to turn twenty-three we had a second baby; a little girl. We named her Cora. She looked nothing like her sister. Loraina was in love with Cora. She would help me with everything. I had two beautiful daughters. Our lives couldn’t get any better. Just after Cora’s third birthday Daniel and I got into our biggest fight yet. I can’t remember what it was about. It could have been about his grandmother or about my group of friends and their crazy antics. It was dumb, but it was aggressive. I told him that I wanted a break. I wanted to escape of being all these titles (mother, wife, lover, friend, etc) for a little while. He takes a mini-vacation with his firm all the time. I wanted the same. That’s when the argument escalated. He got the kids and said, “Fine. You want a break? I’ll give you one.” I never thought it’d be permanent. It’s been four years this February since their death. These past few years I have tried to erase that from my memory. I have forgotten how things really ended. How my babies and husband were ripped away from me as if I didn’t deserve them. And for the first year that’s exactly how I felt. I would wallow in all the negativity. How I could’ve saved them, how if I wasn’t selfish they’d still be alive. Now, I’d give up my entire freedom to be with them. I’d embrace all my titles just to be with them again. I’d be happier and more grateful. I wouldn’t think a single bad thought. For a few months I blamed Daniel for everything. I would go to his grave cursing at him and blaming him for the way my life was at the moment. That last stage didn’t last very long. After that I believed that God simply wanted to show me what He could do. I believed my life was perfect before the accident. I believed that Daniel was the perfect husband, the kids the perfect children, me the perfect wife. Until very recently I started seeing the truth. I’ve started to relive certain memories, realizing how imperfect we were.” She falls silent and I take it all in. Kay sooths her by running circles along her arm. “Kay thinks you’re the reason why I’m getting ‘better’ as she says it. Maybe that’s the case, but I think it’s the fact that I’m letting you in.” She turns to Kay, “Honey. It could have been anyone. Maybe I could’ve gotten better sooner if I hadn’t turned away from everyone. If I was still friends with Greta. If I weren’t so young. But don’t blame yourself, I’m the fucked up one, honey. All these years you’ve been my rock, and I think I’m here now because of your strength. Some progress is progress, honey honey. I love you ma soeur.” Kay starts to cry, “I love you schwester.” I slowly get up from the bed and walk out into the living room. I sit on the couch and stare out at the night sky. The moon is just passing overheard, but I can still see its warm light shining through. I run my hands through my hair, feeling…helpless.

PHOENIX

Kay confides in me everything she had been feeling all these years. We cry together, we listen to each other, and for once Kay doesn’t feel sorry for me. “I started believing that you guys had the perfect relationship too. I’d forgotten all those fights you’d had. All those times he left you because he took his personal vacation. I’d forgotten how bratty the girls were. How mom used to nag at you all the time. How do you forget all the bad?” “Some people forget the good. It’s a coping mechanism. The best thing is to remember all of it.” “Oh, Nixie. I’m so happy that you’re talking now. It’s been hell all these years. I can’t believe it’s been so long. I had no idea you were feeling all that, that you decided to keep moving forward because of me. I don’t think anyone would have thought less of you if you would’ve run home to Nicaragua.” “That’s the thing, Kay. Nicaragua isn’t my home anymore. Miami is and it will always be my home. My girls were born here, and you weren’t my only motivator. Everything that I do, I still do for my girls. They will always motivate me to be a better person. I don’t think I can ever leave Miami.” “I’m sure you can. Look at where you are now, compared to four years ago. It’s a big difference.” “I guess.” Kay and I lie on my bed until the sun comes up.

I leave Kay sleeping and I walk out into the living room to make coffee and banana bread, Kay’s favorite. As I open the refrigerator I find a note on it:

                       Phoenix:

I went running. I needed time to think. I’m sure you can understand. I’ll give you a call later.

                       Fadi

I understand, Fadi. I let the task at hand distract me. I feel the whole in my chest open up again, but this time I put my heart above it to shield it from any pain. I take a few deep breaths in and feel the pain from the gaping hole subside. As I have done, and will continue to do—one day at time.

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PHOENIX

Kay and I are sitting down at the dining table eating an early dinner. We have about an hour before I have to drop her off at the airport. She had to change her flight information since we missed the earlier flight from sleeping in this morning. She’s grinning like a hyena, why? I don’t know. “Why are you smiling so big?” “Huh?” She says finally looking at me. “I just love Thai Beef Noodles. You know it’s my favorite.” “Uh huh.” I start to pick up our plates, “No way. Big sister. I’m washing dishes. Isn’t that your rule?” “Yes. Since when have you been concerned about my rules?” “Since now.”

“Dani! I’m home.” I say giggling, thinking of I Love Lucy! I place Loraina in her high chair and give her some Cheerios. She’s just learning the pincer grasp and I want to encourage that as much as possible. Also, I forgot to give her a snack during our errands. “Babe?” I call out again. I hear shuffling coming from the formal living room. I walk towards the room when Dani shouts, “Don’t you dare take another step!” He rushes out of the room. I take another step, “I’m warning you!” He comes up to me almost tripping over his feet. He reaches me, picks me up, and puts me back in the kitchen. “I said not one more step. Why don’t you ever listen?” I giggle, “Because then I wouldn’t be the girl you love so much.” “Explain to me why I love your stubbornness so much?” I reach for his lips on my tippy-toes and give him a kiss. I lean over him to check on Loraina. She’s happily playing/eating with the Cheerios. I smile at her. She looks up at me and smiles in return. Daniel wraps his arms around me. I rest my head on his chest. “I have something for you,” he whispers into my hair. “Yes?” I smile expectantly. “Grab Loraina and come to the formal living room.” I make a face. “The living room?” I look doubtful. He smiles at me as he makes his way across the house. I get Loraina and follow him. He reaches the formal living room and shuts the door. He takes Loraina from me and tells me to open the door. I throw the door open and see a very clean living space and a giant wooden piece of something in the middle. My mouth falls open as I realize what I’m staring at. “No you didn’t! Oh my goodness you did!” I squeal. He walks past over my stunned person to the bench and sits. He pats the space next to him, “Come. Play for us please. I miss hearing you practice.” I sit down and open the flap. I gently lay my fingers on the keys.

“Now why are you smiling?” Kays asks as she picks up my plate. “I was just remembering when Dani gave me that piano.” “Oh.” She looks toward the far end of the condo, where the piano is dusty and forgotten in a locked room. “I miss hearing you play.” “It’s just something else that reminds me of how I mistreated Dani. How much I yelled at him and got angry with him.” “What are you talking about?” “That night that Dani brought home the piano I got into an argument with him because he refused to wash the dishes. I should’ve made love to him; instead we had makeup sex. I was never grateful.” “What are you talking about? Sex is sex, as you always say. And anyways, that’s why everyone loved you guys, why they looked up to you.” “What are you talking about?” “Nixie. You and Dani were honest with each other. You guys did nice things to each other because you wanted to, not because you owed the other person. Yes, you guys argued and that was annoying, but you were always honest.” Kay goes into the kitchen and starts to wash the dishes. I stay sitting at the dining table thinking about what she just said. I get up and find the ring of keys and unlock the door that holds the piano. I take the white sheet off and blow at the keys. Dust fills the air around me causing me to sneeze. I sit straight up and hover my fingers over the piano keys. I close my eyes, take a deep breath in and play one of Daniel’s favorites. In the middle of the piece Kay sits down next to me and leans her head on my shoulder. I feel another presence, but I don’t acknowledge it until I’m done. I play the piece two more times, on a loop until finally my hands give in and I can’t play any longer. I look at my little sister and hug her tightly, “I promise to get better.” She wipes her face, “Well, come on. I’m gonna be late.” I help her with her carry-on as she gets her purse and passport.

I miss the turn for my street and I go straight to the cemetery. I wave at the guard and he returns a sad smile. I get out of the car and walk toward Dani’s grave. I lie down and summon him to me. I close my eyes and imagine him lying next to me with his arms wrapped around me.  Without even asking him he says, “Your sister is right, baby. You can’t believe that we were perfect. We were far from perfect. And that is what made us, us.” “How can you say that? I don’t remember a single time we fought. We had arguments; that’s it.” He laughs at me, “How can you say that babe? We always fought! Arguments? Ha!” he scoffs.  I snuggle closer to him and wrap every one of my limbs around his. I try to breathe in his scent, but all I smell is dirt. “You smell funny.” I say scrunching up my nose.  He begins to stroke my hair.  “Do you remember how lazy I’d get when it came to buying new clothes or shoes?” I laugh, “Yeah. I used to hate it when you left the house with your faded black pants that were practically grey. But I thought it was cute.” “Cute? Who are you fooling? For weeks you yelled at me every time I left the house in them. You gave me lecture upon lecture. How I should feel lucky that we have the money for me to buy new clothes. That there are people in the world who are forced to wear pants like that and I’m choosing it only out of laziness. When you finally got tired of talking you ripped up my pants. And when I got home you made sure that I saw you using it as rags.” I pout, sticking out my lip more than normal so that he can nibble on it like how he used to, “I would never…” “Phoenix,” he interrupts, “don’t you dare lie to me. Stop lying to yourself.” he sighs heavily.  Then, the memory floods my head and I can hear my former self yelling at him and then using his pants to clean our wooden table. As the memory fades, I notice that so does Dani. I panic, “Don’t go.” He looks into my eyes with all the love I remember, “I have to babe. You need to start letting me go.” “I don’t think I can.” I say looking away from him as a tear escapes my eye.  “I know you can.” He reassures me lifting his translucent hand to my tear to wipe it away. I pucker my lips waiting for his to meet mine. He obliges and then I feel nothing. I get up from the grass and wipe my clothes clean.  

                                                        ***

Kay and I talk often while she is away. I know she’s checking up on me, but in a way I am too. Despite everything, I still want to make sure my little sister is all right and that she’s getting herself into just the right amount of trouble. Kay has decided to spend the entire summer in Washington due to her internship; she’s set on moving there. “No beach, Kay? No more spaghetti straps, or short shorts. What are you gonna do with all those layers?” I laugh, but I already miss her. “I’m a chameleon. I adjust. And, besides, I love the nature here. All the pictures I’ve taken and all the hiking trips I’ve gone on already. Everything is vivid, but muted at the same time. But as summer goes on, it becomes more vivid. And there are lakes here. People go there and there are pools too.” “Well, good for you Sissy. I hope they offer you the position.” “Me too. I love the work I’m doing.” I hang up and continue working on a new proposal for IDL. In the course of three months we have secured ten children for appointments. Matt and I have already set meetings with several deans and school board members to discuss expansion. I never thought I could get this much done in so little time. I guess when you have so much time there’s nothing left to do. At nights, when I run along the beach my mind wanders and I think of Fadi. It’s funny how easy I can revert to hold habits. Thinking about when and if he’ll call me. Sometimes blaming myself for being too open, too soon. I suppose that the best way to trust someone is to simply trust them. Essentially I lost the one person I could trust, the one person who has ever known about me and my needs. Not even my so-called friends knew me enough, and when I did trust them, they stabbed me in the back. There are so many factors why I am in this state of mind; more than what Kay thinks, or anyone else. It’s never as easy as it seems.

FADI

I consistently think back to that night with Phoenix and her sister. The manner in which I fled, the cryptic note I left behind, and the thoughts that consumed me during and after the story—saying this girl is too much. I could never be enough for her, and I wouldn’t want to even try. At least that’s what I thought until I read her thesis in the Psychology Review. Just her name in print made me want to see her again. What man becomes weak at the knees for some girl? “Mammá?” I call the one person whom I know would understand this situation. “Comme va, figlio mio?” She says on the other end of the telephone. “Sto bene, e tu?” “You know your father.” I put my hand to my forehead and massage my temples trying not to react about my father. “What’s the matter, figlio mio?” “Mammá, I need to ask you a question. And I need your absolute honest answer.” “Si, figlio, qualunque avete bisogno.” I explain to her all that happened with Phoenix before me, and while she’s been with me. I explain to my mother that Phoenix is an accomplished woman. How strong I believe her to be, how beautiful she is, and how tender she is despite what life has thrown at her. “Mammá, cosa devo fare?” “I don’t think you have a choice.” “What do you mean?” “Fadi, you are in love and you have no choice in the matter. This is your fate. To be with her. The moment her family died you already didn’t have a choice. I’m sorry that this your destiny, but while fate is being cruel to you, it is being kind to her.” I start to get angry, “How is it being cruel to me?” “Darling, she will never love you as she loved him. You will always be second. It’s not what I would want for you. And as your mother, I ask that you consider forgetting about her.” I think about it for a moment. I think about these last couple of months without Phoenix, without seeing her on the beach or at Big Pink. For only knowing her for a little period of time I feel like there is something in my life, and it wasn’t missing before. I resign, “I can’t.” “Lo so, Fadi.” She says sadly. “Grazie, Mammá.” “Di niente. Ti amo.” “Ti amo. Ciao.” “Ciao.”

                *        *        *         *        *        *         *        *        *

PHOENIX

“Hello?” I decide to answer the unknown number, fearing it might be Kay. “Hello, Phoenix.” A breath escapes my lips and I feel my heart beat slightly faster. Is that warmth creeping on my cheeks? “Hello, Fadi.” “Did you know you came out in Psychology Review?” He asks good-naturedly. ‘”No, I didn’t know. What is it?” “I’m assuming it’s your thesis. It’s very good.” “Thank you.” “How could you not know?” “It belongs to my professor. He can do with it as he pleases. I’m surprised he gave me any credit at all.” “Oh. Yes, I see his name printed here. He says he was a collaborator.” I laugh. “If by collaborator meaning he marked passed in his grade book, then I suppose he did contribute.” Fadi laughs. There’s an awkward silence. “Phoenix?” he whispers so low I can barely hear him. I don’t respond. “Phoenix,” he tries again, “listen. Are you hungry?” I smile, not expecting that and appreciating him not going back to that night. “Yes.” “Big Pink?” “My favorite.”

FADI

There are moments in life when one knows what to do, when one can see the light at the end of the tunnel and rushes out into the blinding sun. Sometimes, however, that blinding sun may blind you for too long and the other end of the tunnel may not be what you expected, but there’s no going back.

Phoenix walks up to me and gives me a chaste, respectful kiss on the cheek, “Hi.” “Hi.” I respond drinking in the sunshine that is pouring out of her. I open the door for her, I follow her in, and she walks directly to the booth we shared. “Phoenix, I want to say—“ She brings her hand up, palm facing me. “Don’t. You did what you had to do. It’s OK.” She rests her hand on my outstretched one. “Fadi, I understand I’m not easy. It’s the reason why I haven’t bothered letting anyone in. You’re the first person to get through to me. With just that I am already indebted to you.” “I didn’t do anything, Phoenix. It was you who decided.” “Yeah, blah blah. It would be nice to believe I’m that strong. But let’s face it. You’re an attractive, appealing guy. I wanted more than to just fuck you from that first day. So, no, I didn’t save myself. You saved me.” “You’ve wanted to fuck me, from the beginning?” I give her a sly smile. “Yes, you’re irresistible.” She says this as a fact, not a compliment. But I smile knowingly. “Ms. Phoenix, I’m sorry to say. But I’m not very hungry. Not for food anyways.” “You know, Mr. Ferdinand. Neither am I.” She gets up, grabs my hand and walks out the door.

PHOENIX

How can I explain the emotions playing war inside my stomach? It’s not even my mind that is confused. My mind knows the truth: I will never be happy, because I want what I can’t have. What’s going on in the pit of my stomach? Apparently, that’s where my heart rests. Maybe the cavity that holds my heart is too full of pain and sorrow that it can’t hold any other emotion, so it has spilled over into my large intestine.

Fadi reaches out for my hand and the warmth of his large hand wrapped around my small one brings back feelings that have long past. I feel like a Catholic schoolgirl doing something she shouldn’t. Now that the gate has been open every emotion is visible on my face, I can just feel it.

A dark thought crosses my mind: No matter what I feel for Fadi, Dani will always be present. I look quickly at Fadi and wonder if he knows this fact. I would never want to bring someone else along this path of destruction I have set for myself. I’ve already hurt enough people.

As much as I wish I could stop being with Fadi, I don’t think I can stop seeing him. Especially now that he knows. Especially now that my cheeks have some color in them. Especially now that my mouth is capable of twisting upwards.

As Fadi and I lie next to each other after we finish I realize I can’t stay with him. I can’t be anything with him.

                 *        *        *         *        *        *         *        *        *

FADI

I wake up to find Phoenix gone; no note. I stay in bed knowing this would happen. She ended things with me. She slept with me just to be sure; a pity fuck. I lie in bed and wonder at what kind of woman she was before the accident. What kind of woman did her husband date, did her husband learn to love? Would she be as enticing to me? This is Phoenix’s second life, she’s a whole new person. But how do I convince of her that? She’ll never forget her previous life, and she’ll always compare this life with that one.

As I shower I think of mergers and acquisitions, trying to get my mind off her. My cellphone rings as I step out of the shower and I answer it, “Figlio mio. Come va?”

“Bene, Mama. How’s dad?”

“Bene, Bene. Our flight arrives at 10. Will we have dinner after?”

“Si, Mama. I’ll see you then. Have a safe flight. Ti amo.”

“Ti amo, figlio mio.”

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I look at my parents watching TV thinking when they’re going to go back to Italy. I love my parents, but they know how to comfortable in my house way too quickly. After watching them from the kitchen I decide to join them and sit down on the La-Z-boy in the far corner. My dad switches it to the news and the three of us watch it in silence.  

My dad, the forever jokester, “So, how ‘bout them dolphins?” I smile at him, “Apparently, they got a very big player during the draft.” “Great.” He says trying to keep it going. My mother gives my father a meaningful look. “What?” I ask. “Mia vitta, I already spoke to you of the girl and I was right.” “What do you mean you were right?” “(in Italian) I don’t think this is the best time.” My father interjects. “No! This is the perfect time” I say brusquely. “Ascoltare! You left in such a rush. I went into my computer and wanted to check my e-mail. When I opened Gmail yours was already connected. I saw that you had an e-mail from that girl. I had to know if that’s the reason why you left.” “Mama!” “Mio bambino…” “No! I am not your bambino.” I interrupt her, “I am no baby, Mama. You must see this now. I am old, much older than you wish to believe.” My father lifts his hand as my mother is about to speak, “Ascoltare figlio. Your mama and I are worried.” I was about to interrupt but he lifted his hand to stop me, “We shouldn’t have read your e-mail. We were sbagliato. However, we did and now we know about this girl. We are not saying you cannot see her. How could we say that! Como vecchi, we know things you do not know. We’ve seen much more than you have despite how old you are. Essere prudenti mio figlio. Si?” I sigh out, “Si, Papa.” “Che bene!” he says opening his arms and smiling as if everything has been solved. I get up from the tethered La-Z-boy and think for a second how I need to throw it away. As I’m walking out I say in the general direction of the room, “I am going to marry her someday and I would appreciate it if you learned to not judge her.” I get my keys and storm out of the house. There’s only one place I would like to be right now so I get into my car and drive there.

PHOENIX

I was just about to head out for a run and yoga session on the beach when I hear a knocking at my door. Kay is on the couch reading and I’m still in the kitchen getting water and a banana. The knocking continues and slowly turns into banging. Kay doesn’t even stir. I sigh out in exasperation. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it. Who cares I’m juggling my ginormous water bottle and banana. Don’t worry about me. I can handle it,” I say sarcastically at her back. Nothing.

I drop my things on the entrance table. The banging continues getting progressively louder. It better not be a salesman! I thrust the door open.

It’s Fadi. Immediately the hardness in my face melts away into a smile. “Hey,” I say breathlessly.

It looks me up and down, “Was I interrupting you?”

“No,” I say looking puzzled. Then I look at my outfit; black jogging shorts, bright yellow sports bra and a white tee. “Oh, um. I was about to go running and yoga on the beach. Wanna come with me?” I say the last part slowly looking at his face. “Is everything alright?” I ask. I make sure he’s wearing sneakers and offer him to come running with me. He obliges and I say goodbye to Kay.

We walk to the beach in silence. I want to grab for his hand and hold it, but not sure how dating works for people our age; or for people at all. I shrug and argue with myself. Finally, I win and grab for his hand. He lets me hold it and I see his shoulders relax a little. Before we hit the beach I chug some of my water and stow it with the banana in a tool box I pulled out from the bushes. I lock it and place it back hidden from any prying eyes. I start to make my way towards the beach and beckon Fadi to follow. We reach just where the high tide stops coming in. I stand in front of him, facing him.

“Just follow what I do and ignore the rest, k?”

“Ok.” He says.

I let him have the view of the beach so that the calming waves soothe him. I always begin my yoga with the sun salutation stretches. Then  I proceed into warrior poses and I end with inverted poses. Fadi follows every move. I motion for us to start jogging. He follows right next to me. We jog all the way down to Douglas and back up to 8

th

and Ocean. He follows easily with me. This makes me smile. I look at him and find him smiling as well. Hopefully my exercising calmed him down a little. I throw myself on the sand when we reach our starting point. I lay back and watch the descending sun steal the colors of the sky and clouds. The rising moon throws its silvery glow on everything it touches. With the sun the waves were a rich blue with white tips, now they’re a deep mysterious midnight blue with silver tips. I let the water attempt at reaching my sneakers. I breathe out happily and close my eyes. I feel Fadi lay down next to me and breathe out as well. I can feel his heat come off of him in the same rhythm as the waves of the ocean. I feel sweat trickle down my neck onto the sand. “Thank you” I hear him breathe out softly.

I bring myself down to the sand next to him and say, “Anytime.”

With Daniel I have learned to not even be curious about the other person. If that person wants you to know something they will tell you. There’s no need in insistent questioning.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that maybe we could go out dancing.”

I laugh, “This workout wasn’t enough for you?”

He flips onto his side facing me and starts to trace the inside of my arm. “Eh, I can keep going.”

“Ok.” I say holding what he is doing to memory.

Losing a husband helps you to never take even the smallest thing for granted.

“Good.”

“How about we eat first? I don’t think my banana survived the heat but I still have that water.”

“Alright. How about I cook for you and this time you meet my parents for real.”

“Ok. Am I allowed to change?”

“Nope. Never change a thing about yourself.” He says seriously staring into my eyes.

I never noticed before, but having him so close I can see he has tiny freckles in the irises of his eyes.