#so 'the hanged man's tree' line is a reference to the song “the hanging tree” sung by katniss and lucy gray in their respective movies...👀

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

WIP Wednesday! (insert meme: it's been 84 years...)

Hello! I think I've neglected these beautiful WIP tag games as of late, so I took the chance, after being tagged by the lovelies @bostoniangirl21 and @miraakulous-cloud-district (thank you both so much!🧡), to share a bit of CH20 of The Priest and the Dragoness (I'm seriously thinking of changing the title of my fic, so if someone wants to give me their opinion about this Cursed Thought™, I'll gladly take it!). Also, the beloved @miraakulous-cloud-district had the idea of making this WIP combo with a picrew of ocs! I'm so excited to share! 😍

Tonight, in that dream, she does not see the precious faces of her dear mother and father she always recognized even if she never knew them or touched them or kissed them in the waking world, nor does she hear the rough but heartwarming voice of her wise old wolf, Kodlak Whitemane.  She does not dream of Vilkas and Farkas’ affectionate fraternal teasing, the tender motherly sternness of Aela, nor does she blend her youthful voice with Whiterun’s liveliness during the New Life Festival, in its songs, dances, feasts, in Magnus’ slow return to Nirn. She sees neither the darkness, the shackles, the rot of Northwatch Keep, nor even senses Caranthir’s breath chilling the back of her neck.  Sometimes, Jia dreams of herself as a dragon. She falls to her weak, human knees, weeps and screams without voice, only to feel her spine crack lengthwise and then split in half like the shell of an egg, as the acrid stench of seething, ripped-out flesh engulfs her like a firestorm, dominates her from head to toe. And then, she sees her two blood-leaking wings spreading through her shadow, and she takes flight, and she brings debris and death.  But tonight, in that dream, she is not a fire-breathing, blood-raining wyrm. In that dream, she is a bird, a swallow, and behind her soft, feathery wings, she knows a delicate shaft of the warmest, most pristine sunlight dovetails with her close behind, creating technicolor colorings upon her lustrous plumage; and from beneath her small-boned body, she sows springs and summers, meadows and groves, all with a single wingstroke.  In that dream, she flies towards a colossal tree. Though suddenly her flight grows swift, erratic, hopeless, so much as one would wonder how a swallow’s flickering little heart can withstand this kind of fear and despair. For this tree that she hunts with time’s passing, is not for nesting and is barren of verdure or fruit in spite of the spring-bearer’s sight; this is an unearthly shade of dark, black wood, of twisting, writhing branches as if they are coming to life, haunted, rotten to the roots and even beyond those, like—  Like a hanged man’s tree. “Sleep,” Miraak tells her, when she startles awake, in a whisper drawn out of the loveliest lullaby, as though he is, too, tethered between reality and a dream, his caressing fingers blindly running up and down her back. “It was just a dream.” They are never just dreams, the words her brain pushes to speak aloud, but her eyes close again, and she’s plunging into a vision that she may not remember come morning.

Now for the lovely picrew!

OH but of course I would make not only Jia but her Miraak too, what do you mean... 😇

I'm tagging some people with the hope I'm not bothering them, so absolutely no pressure for this! Still, it'd be wonderful to see your creations, whichever they are! 🥰 @blossom-adventures, @sothas, @prettytamagnii, @illumiera, @kiir-do-faal-rahhe, @thequeenofthewinter, @ruskycreations

[notmysophie]

Hozier reading list

Literary references in Hozier music

Alighieri, Dante; Inferno

The story of Francesca da Rimini as told in canto V inspired the song Francesca.

The album Unreal Unearth is arranged as a journey through nine circles of hell as they are described in the Inferno part of the Divine Comedy.

The title of the song Through Me (the flood) is a reference to the first lines of canto III.

Hozier read the translation by Robert Pinsky (https://www.rte.ie/radio/radio1/clips/22285692/) 

Beckett, Samuel; Endgame

The song Wasteland, Baby! Takes inspiration from this play. (5 september 2023) (https://www.pastemagazine.com/music/hozier/cover-story-hozier-unreal-unearth) 

O'Brien, Flann; the Third Policeman

The character of de Selby in the Third Policeman inspired the songs de Selby part 1 and 2.

Heaney, Seamus; At the Wellhead

The song To Noise Making (Sing) contains a8n audio fragment of Heaney reading this poem.

Heaney, Seamus; The Cure at Troy

The line "Or honey hope even on this side of the grave again?" In the song "To Noise Making (Sing) " is inspired by the line "History says, Don't hope / On this side of the grave."  in this poem.

Joyce, James; A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The line "Shaking the wings of their terrible youths" in the song Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene is derived from a line in this book. As mentioned in the interview with Zane Lowe for Apple Music (august 28, 2023) (https://youtu.be/y5JpgNIkOz4?si=Yg1GVewfZlHkdVm1)  

Also mentioned as general inspiration in an interview with the Daily Meal (october 28, 2014) (https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel)

Mack, dr. Katie

Astrophysicist dr. Katie Mack is mentioned by name in the song No Plan. A quote from the song is used in her book The End of Everything (Astrophysically speaking)

Neruda, Pablo, Sonnet XVII

The songs de Selby part 1 and part 2 take some inspiration from this poem. (Mentioned when introducing the song during a concert)

Ovid, Metamorphoses

The story of Icarus is mentioned in the song Sunlight and inspired the song I, Carrion (Icarian).

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice is mentioned in the song Talk.

Plato; The Allegory of the Cave

The phrase "Adding shadows to the walls of the cave" in the song Sedated refers to this story.

Swift, Jonathan; A Modest Proposal

Inspiration for the song Eat Your Young.

Wilde, Oscar; Chanson

The line "a rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree" in the song From Eden" is inspired by the line "And a hempen rope for your own love / To hang upon a tree." in this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; The Second Coming

The line "To Bethlehem it slouched" in the song NFWMB is almost directly copied from this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; Leda and the Swan

Inspiration for the song Swan Upon Leda

Other books recommended/mentioned by Hozier

Amis, Martin; The Zone of Interest

Recommended by Hozier in an 'Ask Me Anything' before the release of the album Wasteland, baby! on reddit in 2019

Beckett, Samuel; Not I

Hozier joked the album Unreal Unearth would contain four tracks, two of them being recordings of him reading this play with his mouth full of marshmallows.

The cover art of Unreal Unearth is said to reference this play.

Bukowski, Charles

Mentioned as a teenage favorite (https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA)

Ó Cadhain, Máirtín; Graveyard Clay (Cré Na Cille)

Mentioned as his current read in an instagram Q&A on December 1, 2021

Eliot, T. S.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel 

Heaney, Marie; Over Nine Waves, a Book of Irish Legends

(Source? Mentioned on social media?)

Heaney, Seamus

https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/music/hozier-why-seamus-heaney-s-last-words-mean-so-much-to-me-1.3797926

Herbert, Frank; Dune

Mentioned as a current read/audiobook on How Long Gone podcast episode 614. March 6, 2024

Joyce, James; Ulysses

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

Kierkegaard, Søren; The Sickness unto Death

(Source?)

Orwell, George; 1984

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Rubin, Rick; The Creative Act

Mentioned as his current read in an interview for WNYC Radio, 17 March 2023

https://youtu.be/Cd2uxpD9Hc8?si=cJ8bKrfFeXk_WS2F 

Salinger, J. D.; Catcher in the Rye 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Wilde, Oscar

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Williams, Niall; This Is Happiness

Mentioned as his current read at a fan meet & greet (Bristol, 6 August 2023)

Yeats, W. B.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Poetry/stories read by Hozier in livestreams/videos (and the books he read them from)

3 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; Postscript (the Spirit Level)

Seamus Heaney; A Kite for Michael and Christopher (Station Island)

W. B. Yeats; No Second Troy (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

W. B. Yeats; To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

Ovid, Daedalus and Icarus (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses (Being Human edited by Neil Astley)

Also mentioned; Staying Alive edited by Neil Astley

Seen on the table; Fear Not by Stephen James Smith

10 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; HÖFN (District & Circle)

Seamus Heaney; District & Circle (District & Circle)

Stephen Dunn; Sadness

Stephen Dunn; Sweetness

Ovid; Orpheus and Eurydice (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

T. S. Eliot; The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Brendan Kennelly; Begin 

17 July 2020 Instagram live

Ezra Pound; And the Days Are Not Full Enough

Wilfred Owen; Futility

James Joyce; A Flower Given to My Daughter

Pablo Neruda; Keeping Quiet

Langston Hughes; I, Too

Imtiaz Dharker; They'll Say She Must Be From Another Country

W. B. Yeats; When You Are Old

Stephen James Smith; On the Bus (Fear Not)

Seamus Heaney; Saint Kevin and the Blackbird

Seamus Heaney; Sweeney Praises the Trees (Sweeney Astray)

Maya Angelou; Touched by an Angel

Garrison Keillor; Supper

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XCIV (If I Die) (100 Love Sonnets, translated by Stephen Tapscott)

T. S. Eliot; Ash Wednesday (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Ovid, the Four Ages (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Also mentioned; Ireland, My Ireland by Stephen James Smith

25 July 2020 Instagram live

Anne Stevenson; The Spirit is Too Blunt an Instrument

Katie Mack; The Slow Fade to Black (the End of Everything, Astrophysically Speaking)

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XVII (One Hundred Love Sonnets, translated by Mark Eisner)

Kahlil Gibran; On Love (the Prophet)

Sharon Olds; True Love

Rita Ann Higgins; The Did-You-Come-Yets of the Western World

7 August 2020 Instagram live

James Joyce; Araby (Dubliners)

Also mentioned A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

17 march 2021 Tiktok live

Brendan Kennelly; Begin

Derek Mahon; Everything is Going to Be Alright

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Faisal Mohyuddin; Prayer (The Displaced Children of Displaced Children)

Pádraig Ó Tuama; How to Be Alone

Stephen James Smith; Dublin, You Are

Paula Meehan; Seed

Various reads

Seamus Heaney; At the Wellhead

https://youtu.be/uIBpT_rqUfA

Patrick Kavanagh; Peace

https://youtu.be/Iz1OXOFua4w

W. B. Yeats; He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

W. B. Yeats; A Coat

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

Seamus Heaney; Miracle

https://x.com/seamusheaneyest/status/1253626839316279296?s=20 

[sungbeam]

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, fluff, humor, comfort, reader has crowd anxiety, reader has a lot of siblings lol, mentions of math/physics/chemistry/etc sorry it was necessary for the character, kissing, puns and pick-up lines, mentions of academic stress, lots of carbs haha, drinking, guys younghoon was my first bias and im remembering why

▷ total wc. 29.3k (TUMBLR MADE ME CUT OUT SO MUCH I FKN HATE THIS HELLSITE)

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this should be fine as a standalone, but there are multiple references to party people & i highly encourage u to read it!; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: in an alternate world, i would still be obsessed w kim younghoon, isn't that crazy. anyways, enjoy + reblog!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OF ALL THE COSMIC COINCIDENCES

KIM Jungwoo's message materialized on your lock screen in a bombardment of photons: Hey, you sure you don't wanna come with us tonight? Feel free to still join :')

You slung the strap of your bag over your head and shoulders before shooting him a reply. No thanks Woo :') Appreciate it though! Have fun tonight <3.

Some of the people in the social circle you orbited were heading to the bay tonight for a bonfire rager to celebrate (read: mourning) the beginning of the new university term. Though you hadn’t seen many of the people attending tonight in a couple months, you were never much for big crowds. Plus, the start of the school year brought a whole dumpster fire of things to worry about, so taking a quiet evening with yourself would be well worth it to keep your head on straight.

With the message sent, you hauled your apartment door open and headed out into the late evening. There was a convenient store at the end of the street a couple blocks over that you had been frequenting since freshman year, and you could taste the sweet brioche buns as the store’s fluorescent lights entered your view. It was a small corner store that reminded you much of a traditional 7/11, except there was a corner inside the store where patrons could eat and chill, and the food, arguably, tasted better than alright.

(The seating area inside this place had definitely seen many of your midterm and finals grind nights. And tears. There were lots of tear stains on those tables.)

Your roommate and good friend Miyawaki Sakura often accompanied you here whenever you came to do some studying, shopping, or recreational snacking. Tonight, she was holed up in her room video chatting with some of her cousins in Japan, but most other nights she would be online playing some kind of first person shooter game.

The walk to the nearby convenience store was a short, yet familiar one. You played a song at a faded volume in your earbuds, your hands tucked into the safety of your pockets. It was a warm night out, as late summer clung onto the coattails of early autumn, leaving a strange mixture of green, red, and yellow in the trees. The streets weren’t barren—plenty of people were out and about on a Saturday night—and still, you tilted your head up to the sky to appreciate the beauty of the obsidian sky.

When you reached the end of the block, you entered into the comfortable embrace of the convenience store. It was quiet, as expected, with only the muffled sound of jazz acoustics from the overhead speakers as white noise. The latter combined with the noise from your own device made it all the easier for you to be unaware of the other people here with you.

Your mouth was already watering from the mental image of brioche, and you made a sharp swerve into the familiar bread aisle when you realized—oh, you weren’t alone.

Standing exactly where you knew the brioche buns were stationed was a tall, lanky man with a pair of earbuds hanging from his own ears, one hand examining one of the bread packages while the other was tucked away in his pocket. His dark colored bangs were shaggy and hung in his eyes, but you could’ve recognized that side profile from a mile away. You’d spent nearly half a quarter staring at it, after all—the other half was looking at his front profile and forehead, but those were just as identifiable.

For a moment you stood at the mouth of the aisle weighing your options. Did you say hello, or did you walk away and pretend you didn’t see him?

He decided for you.

Kim Younghoon glanced up from the bread after feeling your eyes on him for a considerable beat of time. He blinked once before you saw the sharp surprise in his expression melt away into soft fondness. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, tugging his earbuds out with a charming smile. “Long time no see, Yn.”

You mirrored his actions and slipped the wires into your pocket. “Long time no see,” you agreed, returning his pleasant expression.

You met Younghoon just last year when he stumbled into the math tutoring center with his head held high and a notebook full of question marks. While your friends on shift at that time (Chanhee coaching someone through their linear algebra worksheet; Jungwoo yanking his hair follicles out with a group of freshmen over trigonometry) were busy, it was you who ultimately became Younghoon’s go-to calculus tutor. For the quarter that he took calculus, you helped the drama major through it.

Of course, finding a drama major in a calculus class was a rare occasion, but you both blamed the university’s awful general education requirement. Either way, you’d both found a friend and good company in one another. It didn’t help that he was terribly charismatic, and often filled the spaces in between long text messages about how to calculate the cross-section area of a vase with “good morning”s, “good luck on your midterm!”s, and corny STEM-themed one-liners.

Younghoon was the kind of guy people took home to meet their parents. Not… not that you ever thought about him like that. It was just what you overheard from this group of girls in the tutoring center once—

“I guess we both had the same idea tonight then,” he chuckled as you came to stand beside him to scour the shelf for your victim tonight.

You hummed. “I guess so,” you said. “I usually don’t see you in this area of the district though.” Because you definitely would have seen him. You lived around here, after all.

“Oh,” he grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “it’s a funny story actually. I dropped my friends off at a party and I went to the store near them and they had no good selection of bread.” He made a helpless gesture. “So I couldn’t just accept defeat, and now I’ve ended up here.”

You plucked a package of soft brioche from the shelf, then passed him an amused look. There was something unfair about how the harsh LED lights fell so lightly over his facial features. “I guess some form of cosmic coincidence brought us bread-lovers here.”

Younghoon knocked his bread package against yours like he was cheering a glass of champagne. “And might I say what excellent taste you have.”

That drew a laugh from you. “Ditto.”

He pursed his lips then, considering you. “So what social event are you dodging tonight, Miss Mastermind?” Younghoon’s eyebrows arched upwards at you, and you suddenly took on the sheepishness he had before. Though, you definitely noted that familiar nickname that followed his question. You wondered if that was still the name your contact was saved under in his phone. (If he even still had your contact information saved.)

You raised the palm of your hand up to hide half of your face from comical shame. “Now why would you just assume that I’m here because I’m avoiding a social call?”

“Yah,” he chided jokingly, “because I know you.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling for a moment before he added, “And you’re friends with Kim Jungwoo.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“And you say I'm the mastermind?” You quipped back at him, all light-hearted. When he first dubbed you with the nickname, you hadn't known what to do about it. He claimed it was because you somehow made learning calculus fun for him—some “sorcery,” as he accused back then.

“You are!” He exclaimed with excited, wide eyes. “You've hexed me with a love for math puns and acute angles,” he groaned melodramatically, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst for added effect.

You clicked your tongue, unable to hide your amusement. “Acute angles is a new one.”

“'Cause they remind me of a-cute-ies like you,” he said with his hand shaped into a finger gun, tongue between his teeth.

Your hand went over your face again. “I forgot that you did that.”

“You missed it!”

The smile on your face couldn't even be fully covered with your hand. Maybe you did miss it—or maybe it was just him. When the quarter had wrapped up last year and Younghoon was no longer taking calculus, neither of you had any “excuse” to be around each other anymore. Though you still had his number, you always chickened out of texting him to see how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out.

In your mind, Younghoon was always too cool for you. You didn't feel like you fit into his world.

Younghoon took your hand and drew it away from your face, a slow smile filling his lips. “There she is. You missed me.”

“If you stop asking, I will pay for your bread.”

“As if I'm going to let you do that,” he shook his head. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You both began making your way over to the counter to purchase your individual pastries. You always knew Younghoon liked bread, and you shouldn't be so surprised that he drove halfway down the district just to find a specific brioche bun. It was funny and strange how the universe worked. At times you wondered if the probability of fate could be calculated—

“So it's just you tonight?” You asked him as the two of you lingered just outside the convenience store with your freshly purchased breads in hand. You had both immediately torn into your brioche as soon as you cleared the threshold, and the fluffy pastry filled your mouth and stomach with utter joy. It was buttery and sweet and soft… perfection.

Younghoon shoved the piece in his mouth into his cheek. “For the most part, yeah,” he replied, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “You?”

“Yeah, Kkura's at home, but she's on call with someone. Jungwoo did invite me out to that big bonfire at the bay tonight, but…” You shook your head.

His head tilted slightly. “Oh yeah I heard about that.” For a second, he didn't say anything, and then he murmured, “Crowd anxiety.”

You hummed, eyes shooting over to his. “Hm?”

“Crowd anxiety, right?” He asked with more confidence. “I—you can correct me if I'm wrong—but I just remember you mentioning something about crowd anxiety last year.”

Your chewing slowed for a moment, and a small smile curled onto your lips. “No, you got it right.” He remembered. Of course, he remembered. A warm feeling made itself comfortable in your chest.

Younghoon seemed to brighten. “Good, I'm glad I remembered correctly,” he said while leaning his shoulder against the wall of the convenience store. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you ever happen to watch that performance of 12 Angry Jurors I recommended?”

Uh oh. You could physically feel your neurons spark at the familiar title. It was the equivalent to a bell—no, alarm—rattling around inside your noggin.

Younghoon threw his head back in a laugh at how your face rearranged into an expression of pure mortification. "You look like I just caught you with a hand in the canary cage—oh my god, you should see your face!"

You were helpless at this point, and no words were coming to your tongue to rescue you. Screw all the differential calculus—where was language ability when you needed it? “I can explain myself,” was all you came up with.

He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing you with a pointed look, albeit still amused. "I'd love to hear this."

“You know that some things just slip my mind—”

“Yes, and that's why I watched you put it into your calendar.”

“And you know that the school has a bad habit of scheduling big events on the same night—”

He cocked a brow at you, leaning forward slightly. “I don't like where this is going, you workaholic.”

You gestured at him with the piece of bread in between your fingers, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. “I am not a workaholic,” you said firmly.

“Sure you aren't,” he replied back in a tone that indicated he thought the exact opposite.

“Anyways, they put the research symposium on the same night as the last showing—”

“Ah-ha!” He cried with a triumphant finger pointed at the sky. You were convinced that any second now, he was going to start twiddling an immaculately curled mustache. “So you did procrastinate!”

You pressed your lips together as you crumpled your empty packaging, then raised a finger up to scratch your head sheepishly. “Maybe I did.”

Younghoon drew out an exhale. “Aye, I knew it. You know, I think you're just about married to your work, Yn-ah.” His mouth quirked to the side and he scratched the underside of his jaw. “But I guess that's not a bad thing.”

You gave a small wince. “You're not mad I missed the play?”

“Mad? No, of course not. It wasn't my play,” he joked. “I know you have priorities, and me being mad would just be silly.”

“But you are disappointed,” you countered pointedly.

“Disappointed for you,” he countered. “That was a pretty good performance of 12 Angry Jurors. Though… there is one part that I would have chosen to represent differently, but…” He shrugged, letting the thought float out into the ether.

“What is it?” You prompted.

His lip curled upward and he let out a little chuckle. “I'm not telling you; it'll spoil the ending!”

You were unconvinced. “I'm never gonna see the play, Hoon.”

“Not with that attitude,” he shot back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you from his sass that came out of left field for you. The sound of your joy made his smile widen and his eyes narrow into pretty, upturned crescent moons. The warmth all around you wasn't just from the evening's temperature. You'd forgotten just how easy it was to talk to Younghoon, and you decided that yes, you definitely missed him. But with all good things, it was written with a curtain call.

Younghoon seemed reluctant to push off of the wall and away from you. “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer,” he said. There was a down turned angle to the corners of his smile now. “I do need to go re-find parking for when I have to go hunt my drunk friends down.”

Your laugh was small. “Good luck with that. And… don't worry about keeping me anywhere too long.”

“Thanks, and I'll keep that in mind.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth for a second, his head ducking down to shake his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, you still have my phone number, right?”

“I do.”

Whether harsh or dim lighting, it highlighted his features beautifully regardless. His eyes twinkled. “Now I know you won't ignore me if I send you another calc pun.”

“I'll look forward to it,” you promised.

The two of you were beginning to step toward your opposite directions, but failed to make your legs move any further. “Get home safe, Yn,” he murmured in goodbye. The possibility of him never reaching out crossed your mind. It wasn't like you didn't have faith that he would; rather, it was your own thoughts creeping into your head that you two came from different worlds. Despite the friendliness between you, that was the whole reason you shied away from ever reaching out. It was nothing personal against him.

EPISODE TWO: PASS GO & COLLECT TWO HUNDRED

GRAVITY reminded you of its existence when a bundle of fabric hit you square in the head. (Then again, you were always reminded of gravity’s existence when you thought about it…) “Yah—hey!” You clawed the article of fabric off your head and whirled around in your desk chair with a scowl. “Kkura!”

Sakura blinked innocently from where she stood at your closet, hand on her hip. “Put it on.”

You made a face as you straightened out the garment in your hands, the frown deepening when you realized which top it was. Or rather, which dress it was. “I haven’t seen this since I unpacked my clothes from boxes two years ago,” you whistled lowly. It was a black satin piece, something you brought along with you from home in case you ever decided to go to an event that called for a cocktail dress. Most of the formal events you attended though usually allowed you to get away with dress pants and a blouse. This poor piece of fabric had been relegated to the back of your closet since.

Your friend resumed sorting through your clothes for any alternatives or more of that kind. “I didn’t even know you owned something like that. I thought all your bottoms clung to your ankles unless they were shorts.”

“I have variety,” you sniffed and draped the dress over the back of your chair. “And what's wrong with bottoms going to my ankles? I like when they get to be warm.”

“That's what socks and shoes are for.”

“Says the girl who wears jeans that pretty much cover her shoes.”

Sakura shot you a look that reminded you of when your mother was exasperated, but she didn't want to admit that you were right. “Okay, so maybe we both have problems. But that's besides the point!” She walked away from your closet to sit herself on the edge of your bed, her hand dragging the arm of your desk chair to roll you over away from your desk. “We're going to a party tonight!”

She beamed, waving her hands around. When you only gave her a blank stare, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I said, we're going to a party tonight! Woo!”

You pursed your lips. “Not very woo, to be honest.”

“You're not very woo,” she quipped in a deadpan.

“No, no, no!” You cut in, waving your finger back and forth. “Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather stay home than party either. And besides, you know that I don't do crowds.” You gazed off into space as if recalling the Great War with glazed-over eyes, already smelling the sweat and booze, and feeling the suffocating pressure in your chest as people squished up against you, and as you lost sight of your friend or anyone you knew for that matter, in the sea of—

“I know,” Sakura pushed out an exhale, and your eyes shuddered as you came out of that headspace. “But I think it'll be good for us. I mean, you need to get your eyes away from that grant application for one second, and I—”

“Need to stop playing League?” You suggested cheekily.

Your friend's scowl coaxed a high pitched wheezing sound out of you. She pursed her lips. “I was going to offer to hold your hand while we were in the house, but I guess not—”

“Okay, now let's not get ahead of ourselves!” You countered. The glint in Sakura's eyes when you interrupted her told you all you needed to know. Damn her cleverness; she'd got you once again.

Maybe she was the real mastermind.

Two hours later—the both of you dolled up and willpower strong (ish)—you clung to Sakura's hand as you and she slipped into the lively host house for tonight's festivities. Sweat already dampened the lines in your palm, and you moved your grip on your friend to hold onto her arm instead. You hadn't been to a house party or a frat party in a while, the last one being a birthday party for one of your friends from differential calculus turning twenty-one.

This instance was different. For one, there were far too many people packed together per square inch. And second, who thought turning down the lights was a good idea? You were already half blind as it was…

“I think we should get a drink!” Sakura shouted as she sent you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widened as you narrowly missed getting someone's shoulder shoved into your face. “Yes, a drink sounds great!”

It was a war zone as the two of you maneuvered yourselves through the crowded living room space. The only reason people seemed to converge in that room in particular was because it had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. There were also people seated on the stairs, leaning over the upstairs landing, and meandering around in the halls.

You could feel your head begin to fog up as you unconsciously shifted closer to Sakura's side. Your friend curled her arm around your shoulders, deftly guiding you through the fray to the light at the end of the tunnel—the kitchen. There was a distinct lightening of your chest as you stepped foot into the less crowded space. The kitchen was still only dimly lit with the most minimal of light switches flipped on, but it was still enough where you could at least see your hand in front of your face and the light layer of sweat on Sakura’s brow. You made a swift scan of the area and spotted three people over by the kitchen counter, one of whom was slumped over the countertop, dozing off.

Oh, to be him right now.

“Oh, hello,” greeted one of the trio. He was stationed behind the counter like a bartender, his purple bangs brushed out of his face. The girl with him lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, we’re not—uh, interrupting or anything?” Sakura said as your hold on her arm loosened considerably now that you were in an area that was much less crowded.

The two of them shook their heads with too much enthusiasm. “No, no! Definitely not.”

You and Sakura exchanged glances of incredulity, but didn’t push the topic any further. With pleasantries aside, the two of you excused yourselves to peruse the display of alcoholic beverages on the island space. You knew Sakura could hold her alcohol a decent amount, and so could you, so you both looked around for bottles of flavored soju to hold you over for the evening.

You dug around in one of the coolers and withdrew twin bottles of strawberry-flavored ones. “Kkura!”

Her blue-colored head perked up and she brightened as you waved your treasures around in the air. “Ooh, yay! You know, I think we should restock our stash of melon soju at home,” she mused and came over to where you were.

With your drinks secured, you each took the first sip like a shot, then linked arms to face the crowd again.

Drinking either made your anxiety rocket or relax—it depended on the beverage and the kind of day you’d had, but as you nursed your bottle for moments longer, the heaviness in your chest began to gradually recede.

The crowd anxiety you harbored was a byproduct of being the middle child of five siblings. You loved your family to bits, but sometimes home life was overwhelming. It wasn't that you got nervous around people, but more so in large bodies of people. The first year or so of your university life spent in large undergraduate lectures were absolute hell; there was an appeal to the upper division classes besides specialized interests.

But your friends were all aware and took good care of you, which you were more than grateful for.

“Is it just me—” Sakura said to you loudly with blue and purple lights painting her features, “—or does this soju taste really good tonight?”

You smacked your lips together as you savored the sweet taste. “You're definitely right,” you said. “We might have to go back for more.”

“If we can remember how to get there,” she giggled.

“Wait, what's in here?” You steered the two of you into a doorway to your left.

From the looks of the massive table stretching from one end to the next, you had stumbled upon the dining room. The room was large enough for there to be a few different groups of people occupying sections, but the largest one took reign over the farthest end. Your eyes widened in delight when you recognized two people in particular. “Oh wow.”

“Yn?” Chanhee exclaimed in disbelief. He was partly hunched over what looked like a board game as his deft fingers counted out paper money. “You're here?”

Everyone—well, almost everyone—turned their heads to see who Chanhee was talking about. Nonetheless, there were still quite the amount of eyes looking at you and you felt your palms begin to get sweaty around your bottle neck.

Younghoon gasped. “YN!” He grinned, lumbering over with his jelly-like limbs, tripping over people's legs and chairs. You could see the alcohol in his expression before you smelled it, but you couldn't just not hug him when he wrapped his arms around you in greeting. You hadn't seen him since last week at the convenience store but even then, the surprise had yet to escape you. What a cosmic coincidence.

“Hey, Hoon,” you chuckled in amusement, patting his back affectionately. You didn't know he would be so affectionate when drunk, but then again, this was the first time you were experiencing him like this.

“Big guy's a little drunk,” Sakura observed, then lifted her bottle to her lips. “Are you guys playing Monopoly?”

One of the guys, who looked the most of sound mind and state, nodded. “Yeah. D'you guys wanna play?”

Younghoon placed his hands on your shoulders with a goofy grin slipping onto his face as he pulled away. “You should play with us! Guys—” he announced to his friends, “—this is my bestest friend, Yn!”

“And her friend, Sakura,” you cut in, gesturing to Sakura with jazz hands.

“And we would love to play,” Sakura added.

You passed her a glance. There was mischief dancing in her eyes. You supposed at least you knew what you were getting into before jumping into any game with the Miyawaki Sakura. These poor chumps never stood a chance.

“Okay, but Chanhee's the iron,” remarked one of the other boys while you, Sakura, and Younghoon made your way over to where they all were gathered.

You snorted at Chanhee's less than pleased expression. “Why does he insist that you be the flat iron?” You nudged your friend. You met Chanhee and Jungwoo in a shared freshman differential calculus class where the three of you weathered the war together.

Chanhee sighed, his tongue poking his cheek. “Because apparently I have no ass.”

“BECAUSE YOU DON'T!”

“NEITHER DO YOU!”

With none of that settled, a good majority of the people present gathered around the Monopoly board on the table to play. You, Sakura, and Chanhee all clambered onto the dining table to sit while the others rounded the end of the table. It also gave you a little room to breathe while playing with such a large group.

“Ladies first,” declared one of the boys, who's name you learned was Sunwoo, his eyes at half mast and cheeks flushed like red grapefruit.

“If you insist,” Sakura sang and did a little dance as she swiped the dice up to roll.

You placed a hand over your eyes jokingly. “Look away!”

Haknyeon blinked with his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because she's about to win faster than you can say pass go and collect two hundred.”

In retrospect, you saw this coming. Even if the universe could construct more possible futures than you had atoms on the tip of your pinky finger, you definitely could have seen this coming.

The aftermath immediately following Sakura's utter domination of the Monopoly board left all of her opponents in a sputtering mess. Your friend dusted her fingers off as if there were crumbs on them, a very satisfied Cheshire's cat grin crawling onto her lips. “You can fight it or just accept it,” she shrugged, taking the last swing of her soju.

Eric stared up at her from where he knelt in front of the table, gripping the edge with his palms. He was all wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Teach me your ways.”

“If you get me another soju,” she offered, gesturing with her empty bottle. She probably didn’t expect him to take her up on the offer, because her eyes widened a comical amount when the kid rocketed up to his feet and darted out of the room, faster than she could blink.

“Is he usually like that, so hyper?” You jested to Chanhee as you and he began reorganizing the paper money.

Your pink-haired friend laughed. “Kind of. Youngjae's cute.”

“And what am I, Channieeee?” Came an inebriated Changmin. He teetered over to where you and Chanhee were, then unceremoniously draped himself over the latter's back.

“Ahhhhhh,” Chanhee groaned, “Ji Changmin!”

“Answer my question!” His friend slurred. “I think Yn thinks I'm cute. D'you think I'm cute?” He asked, gazing up with you in a deep pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Don't answer that question, Yn. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

Changmin scoffed, straightening to a surprisingly perfect posture. He slapped a hand to his chest in offense. “How could you! Chanhee-ssi! We're supposed to be friends!”

You chuckled, leaning out of that dumpster fire of a conversation, and finding yourself in the company of one very loopy bread enthusiast. Younghoon had slipped back from watching the game about three quarters of the way through and slumped into a chair with a can of beer and his phone. At some point, you had given up on Monopoly, too, and considered joining him. Now, you really did move over to join him.

His head perked up when you leaned over and poked his shoulder, a smile coming to his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled back. “Tired?”

He gave a slow, drawn-out nod. “Mhm,” he hummed. He lifted the can of beer to his lips and finished it off, then dropped his phone into his lap so he could rest his face between his hands. “I'm kind of hungry.”

You laughed. “I bet. How much did you drink, Hoon?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

“Long week?”

“Veeeery long week,” he nodded. “Like…” He spread his arms to his full wingspan, “this much.”

A giggle bubbled out of your mouth at how adorable he was when he was drunk.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Oh my gosh, Yn! I never sent you the joke I found,” he frowned. “I found it and thought about sending it to you, but then…”

“You forgot?” You offered.

“I just didn't wanna bother you, to be honest.”

Oh. Something in you softened a great deal at the confession. You were always so sure that you would have been the bother, because it was difficult to imagine that someone who seemed so sure of himself like Younghoon might also feel the same. You mimicked his position with your hands holding up your face. “You're never a bother, Younghoon.”

“Even when I ask dumb questions about factoring?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question.”

He pursed his lips into a line, unconvinced. “You're too nice. No wonder I liked doing math homework.”

You laughed again at the unexpected compliment, and Younghoon smiled to himself. “I'm glad you enjoyed doing your calc homework.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut with wide, doe-like eyes. “I was going to say a joke, but I realized that I probably shouldn't say that one in particular.”

“Wow, you have a filter when you're drunk?” You teased.

“Hey!” He pretended to sulk. “I'm not that drunk!”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I am still hungry though.” Yeah, definitely drunk.

Within fifteen minutes, you convinced Sakura to accompany you and Younghoon to the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment. The three of you together managed to snag Chanhee to drive you all, as well as Changmin as an accessory since he and Chanhee lived together. Younghoon had once again insisted on this place in particular because he thoroughly enjoyed the brioche bun from the other day and had been missing it since. You and he settled down at the seating area in the corner of the store with your freshly-purchased bread, while the others traipsed around in search of other sustenance.

Younghoon's cheeks were full of brioche as he muttered a muffled, “You know why I like—calculus jokes?” He swallowed his bite, his eyebrows braiding together as he stared at his now empty package.

You quietly plucked the empty bag out of his hands and replaced it with yours.

He melted at the action. “I do.”

You bursted into a fit of giggles and Younghoon followed straight after you. Your face filled with fire and his bloomed like a blood red rose. The alcohol was slowly settling in. You were a lot more refreshed now that you were outside of the crowd setting, and your chest felt much lighter. “You do?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed, tearing the last bit of bread apart for you both to share instead. “You know why I like—” he hiccupped with the bread half in his mouth. His face morphed into one of confusion, then utter disdain.

You stifled a laugh with your bite of carbs. “Why do you like calculus jokes, Younghoon?” You asked to help him out.

He swallowed his bite. “Because—trig jokes are too graphic and algebra ones are too for—” He hiccupped again, his eyes shooting up toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Formulaic?” You offered.

Younghoon frowned. “You know this one?”

“I enjoy guessing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, unconvinced. “There is one outlier though.” When he hiccupped for the third time, you patiently waited for him to fill in the blank. “Statistics.”

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I have to say, that was very subtle but very good.”

Younghoon beamed with pride. “I knew you would get i—” Another hiccup. He deadpanned. “I hate this.”

You stood up with a chuckle. “Let me get you some water.”

“Thanks,” he pouted. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you went over to the free water cooler over at the counter, and even as you brought him back the little paper cup of liquid.

As he drained the cup, you lingered next to where he sat rather than sitting back down. “Better?” You asked, then held your hand out to take the cup back if he wanted more.

He shook his head though, and he raised it up to his eyes while squinting one of them to aim it at the trash can behind your seat. “How do I get this exactly inside the trash?”

You blinked, eyeballing the distance between his seat and the trash can. The paper cup wasn't going to have a lot of weight while it was empty, but if he threw it with the opening facing him instead…

Younghoon made a noise that sounded a lot like a child's giggle. “Hehe, you're actually doing the math in your head.”

“You don't know that,” you muttered.

“Of course I know that.” He shucked the paper cup and it landed in the trash can with a clean swish sound. He threw his hands in the air. “Woo! Crowd goes wild.”

You laughed and slid back into your seat. “See, you didn't need math to get the cup into the trash can. Nice throw, Hoon.”

He grinned at you. “Thanks. You know how I knew you were doing the math in your head?”

“How?” You humored him amiably.

“Because you get this cute little wrinkle between your eyes, riiiight there—” He leaned forward and booped the place between your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a split second. “—when you're processing info.”

“Processing info makes me sound like a computer,” you joked.

“Too bad you're not a keyboard,” he said with a sigh, “you'd be just my type.”

An unnaturally loud guffaw came out of your mouth and you slapped your hand over it. There was far too much mirth between the two of you right now. “You're telling me you're good at this drunk, too?” You shook your head, the laugh lingering on your tongue, “Y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised.”

If Younghoon could come up with pick-up lines to remember how to do calculus sober, then you should not have underestimated him drunk.

“Changmin, can you put the plunger down before we get kicked out?” Your head turned toward the sound of Chanhee's pure exhaustion as the three others rounded the corner. You imagined Chanhee dealt with drunk Changmin more than a few times to sound so exasperated. You didn't even want to know what Changmin was doing with the plunger.

Sakura, Chanhee, and Changmin bumbled over to where you and Younghoon sat, the supposed plunger nowhere to be seen. Chanhee brushed a lock of pink out of his eyes with a deep sigh. “Alright; shall we?”

EPISODE THREE: DO AS THE PHYSICISTS DO

THE hungrier Younghoon woke up, the more he likely had to drink the night prior. His stomach growled something horrific and he groaned, rolling his body over to squish his face into his pillow. There were no trains of thought running through his mind at the moment; there was only blissful quiet. And hunger. Goddamn it, he was hungry.

With a huff, he dragged himself upright as if he were rising from the dead. He gave his head a rough shake, eyes bleary as he blinked once… then twice… Oh, yuck. Sticky eyelashes.

There was something white on his desk that caught his eye. There was a yellow sticky note marked with Chanhee's chicken scratch beside it: Yn sent you home with this bottle of painkillers. In case you don't remember, lol.

Dear god, it was coming back to him now.

Younghoon lowered himself down onto the edge of his bed and dragged a hand down his face. Had he been weird? Did you think he was weird now?

His phone was buried somewhere beneath his mess of sheets, and he pulled up your contact that he still had saved from last year. The last message sent was from a brief conversation you both had after his calculus final about what you were both doing when you went home for the winter break. He could feel the warmth creeping up to his cheeks from his neck as he typed out the first message to you since: heyy… about last night…

It was a bit of a surprise when he saw your reply come in nearly straight away.

miss mastermind: LOL good morning, did u sleep okay? younghoon's phone: decently ig 😅 thanks for the painkillers btw i will def take a couple of those miss mastermind: yeah no worries younghoon's phone: how bad was i last night, yn 😭 u can tell me miss mastermind: 😭 u weren't that bad… okay maybe u started singing the calculus parody of bohemian rhapsody on the way to my apartment…

Younghoon snickered into his palm as he stared at the messages on the screen. That memory was definitely rolling back into his head now. It was that, along with the Monopoly game, then the convenience store, and finally, the walk to yours and Sakura's apartment before Chanhee dropped him off here.

miss mastermind: i can't say im too surprised u remembered it tho 😭 sometimes i forget that ur trained to remember things younghoon's phone: that's a funny way to describe being an actor LMAO younghoon's phone: but also i'd be lying if i didn't admit that im so embarrassed abt last night miss mastermind: nooo don't be!! it's all good, i thought u were a very cute drunk

He smiled against his hand. He typed: Well now I just have to make it up to you.

miss mastermind: u absolutely do not younghoon's phone: actually i do younghoon's phone: if i recall correctly, u gave me the rest of ur BREAD. that's like…|

He paused, having nearly written “marriage proposal.” Quickly backspacing, he replaced it with “donating an organ.” Maybe he was a little delusional, but he could've sworn he heard your laugh echoing in his head after he sent it and saw the indicator appear that you were typing. He reached over to grab the bottle of painkillers as he monitored your texts coming in.

miss mastermind: DONATING AN ORGAN… miss mastermind: yk, i knew u liked bread, but not THIS much younghoon's phone: but ofc :0 she's my first love miss mastermind: understood o7 now ik how to sway ur judgment ☝️ younghoon's phone: le gasp younghoon's phone: truly evil mastermind things only miss mastermind: the le gasp is taking me out 😭 younghoon's phone: how abt /i/ take u out instead 😗

As soon as he sent it, he grimaced. Oh no, this was going to be taken out of context. You were going to go through the whole “sorry, I'm not really interested in you” talk, and he would have to sit through it pretending like it didn't hurt—he didn't mean for it to sound like that. You were just friends after all.

younghoon's phone: I MEAN LIKE younghoon's phone: for watching over me and humoring me last night yk! it doesn't have to be something fancy either, just something that we can do as friends! and to say thanks

His grimace deepened. Those clarification texts did nothing to help his case. It also did not calm his nerves when you failed to respond immediately like you had been for the past few minutes. “Well, you've done it now,” he muttered to himself as he frowned down at the screen.

For a couple minutes, there was nothing from your end and he forced himself to drag his ass off the bed in search of sustenance. Hyunjae's door was closed, so the rest of the apartment was quiet as he bounded out of his room toward the kitchen. Periodically (read: every couple seconds), Younghoon would glance at his phone screen waiting for your reply. “What are you scared of?” He said to himself as he opened the fridge and scratched his jaw. “You literally came up with pick-up lines for calculus terms with her.”

There were leftovers from a couple nights ago, and Younghoon grabbed those to heat up. He closed the refrigerator with his hip, eyes darting to his phone, only to see his screen light up. He dropped the leftover container on the counter and scooped the device up.

miss mastermind: i really don't think it's necessary to pay it back or anything, but we can def hang out! miss mastermind: also sorry my sister stole my phone TT but i got it back haha It was sad how fast relief flushed through him at that moment. younghoon's phone: oh no dw abt it lol ur with family rn? miss mastermind: i am! my aunt's in town and so i was summoned home for brunch 🤧 younghoon's phone: …is there :’)) uhm french toast :’)) miss mastermind: *sent a photo* younghoon's phone: that was cruel. miss mastermind: HAHAHA SORRY 😭

Younghoon stuck his leftovers into the microwave to heat up, but was suddenly craving French toast. He knew for certain he didn't have everything to make it right this second though. Maybe he would wake Hyunjae up to go impromptu grocery shopping.

younghoon's phone: i don't wanna keep u away from ur family any longer, but lmk if u have any preferences for what we should do together miss mastermind: no prefs in particular and dw, talking to u helps distract me from the amount of chaos happening in this house :’) miss mastermind: i do have to go now tho unfortunately :l my sister looks like she's abt to snatch my phone again 😭 younghoon's phone: LOL 😭 okay i'll talk to u soon then younghoon's phone: enjoy ur toast :/ miss mastermind: HAHA i'll save u a slice hoon 😋

The microwave beeped its conclusion, and Younghoon pulled the piping hot bowl of leftover food out. As he took a stab at it with his fork, he came to the swift conclusion that he was not going to be full on this. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, he started toward Hyunjae's room to give his friend a very rude awakening. “HYUNJAE! WE NEED FRENCH TOAST!”

There was no better place than the convenience store at the ripe timestamp of ten o'clock to meet with a friend. You'd gotten back from your house at around four o'clock in the afternoon, so you weren't too tired, though the cleanup and all the social interaction was threatening to take you out. Any school work or grant application work would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nonetheless, you felt a giddy sort of excitement bubble up in you as you hustled yourself down the street to the convenience store to meet Younghoon. In your hands, you clutched a small, sandwich-sized Tupperware container with a slice of holy French toast within. It was your older brother's favorite thing to make when he had to contribute to a brunch (or, let's face it, any meal) spread.

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's relevant in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

Younghoon returned to you with an entire treasure trove of goodies that you swore amounted to more than what was due. (That number to you was technically zero, but for Younghoon's insistence, it was slightly over zero… maybe one one-thousandth.) It was a smorgasbord of peach drinks with lychee jelly, potato chips, daifuku mochi, and of course, bread buns. It was a feast in its own right. You both dove straight into the snacks before you. When life gave one lemons, one was to make lemonade.

Younghoon popped a chip into his mouth. “Do you come here often? Is this your hangout spot?” He suddenly asked, then dipped his hand into the bag and waved a chip around in the air, a quizzical kink in his brow. “I mean, you do live close by and you seem to be very familiar with the place.”

You screwed the cap of your bottle of juice back on and wiggled your fingers as you surveyed what snack to eat next. “I do hang out here often—you’re right,” you replied. The daifuku looked very appetizing right about now. “I've been coming by since school started to knock out my grant app.”

He perked up curiously. “Grant app?”

“It's for the Space Grant.” In partnership with the national space organization, your university offered something called the Space Grant, which would grant three applicants with a monetary award that could be used toward their education in aerospace. You'd had your eye on it even before you began attending this school, and you were determined to be one of the three who won it this year.

After you briefed him on the cause of much of your recent stress, Younghoon gave an indulging nod. “Mmmmh, I see. You're still aerospace engineering then, right?”

“Yep,” you chirped. “me and propulsion theory to the end. I guess I'm an airplane kid.” At the latter, you made a face. You were the space version of an airplane kid… the alternate of train kids and car kids…

“Don't think about it too much,” he said with corners of his smile peeking out on either side of where he pressed his fist against his lips.

You tried not to. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

He breathed out an exhale. “Hm? Oh, like, with drama?”

“Sure, anything and everything about you.” You leaned your cheek against your fist and peered over at him. “We've been talking about me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he tsked. “You already know I recite lines, dabble in the hilariously good pun on occasion, and am incredibly obsessed with carbohydrates.”

“What more could I possibly wanna know?” You played along.

“Exactly.” He chuckled then, tongue darting out for a second to wet his lips. “Jokes aside, nothing too much. Hyunjae's best friend, HJ!Yn—she’s a director and writer, and she's putting on her own play in the spring that I'll be auditioning for.”

Your eyebrows arched in interest. “Oh? What's it about?”

“No clue.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, good luck—or, break a leg. People say that, right? It's not just in movies?”

“People do say that, yes,” he affirmed. “And thank you. I'm gonna start a part-time teaching job at a school nearby for their theater program, which I think will be fun.”

“That does sound fun,” you agreed. Because you had two younger siblings yourself, you knew that taking care of young ones was a lot, but if anyone could do it, you knew Younghoon could. You imagined he would do quite well with them. “Let me know when they have a performance!”

His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent lights; you were beginning to grow more accustomed to the way the harsh brightness painted his features softer. “You have to promise to come though. This is more important than 12 Angry Jurors.”

You placed a hand against your heart in playful solemnity. “I, Yn Ln, do solemnly swear that I will try my very best to make it to see their performance.”

He cleared his throat, his expression falling into an expertly grave facade. “I accept your promise,” he said and extended his hand out to you across the table, “shake my hand, and may the deal never be broken.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out of character as you shook his hand. When you'd both withdrawn your hands, you watched him, fascinated, as he exited out of character. It was like a switch had been flicked off behind his eyes. Crazy.

Satisfied, Younghoon laced his fingers beneath his chin with a giddy, little smile on his face. “I'll save you an aisle seat.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. You really did—and he really remembered.

“And I'll make silly faces at you from the curtain wings.”

You laughed, telling him you couldn't wait.

EPISODE FOUR: TRAINS GO BOOM?

THERE were too many fires to put out at once. You were becoming the humanoid version of that dog in a burning house meme, and you didn't like it. It was not fine.

“Girl, I wish you'd told me, like, three weeks ago—”

You tasted the rejection a mile out.

“—I already committed to this robotics thing that night,” Jungwoo cried in anguish as he threw his head back. “I could've gone to the Space Gala! Instead, I'm watching people play with robots.”

You passed him a sympathetic look. “Robots are cool.”

“But I don't even get to do anything! I can only spectate!” You both stopped in the middle of your walk as he made unintelligible noises and gesticulations. Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders and shook them. “YN! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? I have to pay to watch people have fun.”

Your head was wobbling back and forth like a bobble head. Thank god for spines. “Woo—I’m gonna be honest—”

He stopped shaking you.

“I have no idea,” you said to him. “But we are in the same boat.”

The two of you were currently situated on the engineering side of campus. Most of the buildings around you were geared toward the great spectrum of engineering students—from electrical and computer, to aerospace and nautical. You just got out of a numericals simulation course and caught up with Jungwoo coming out of the engineering library to present to him your newest dilemma.

Jungwoo's posture sank. “I only have regrets after pursuing MechE.”

You pursed your lips, lamely patting him on the shoulder. “I told you aero is cooler.”

“I won't dignify that with an answer,” he sulked. Jungwoo picked himself up, however, as he always did. He carded a hand through his floppy brown bangs, eyes flickering down to his phone screen before his eyeballs nearly fell out of his socket. “Oh shit—I’m gonna be late to advanced mathematics. Chanhee is gonna murder me.”

He bumped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good luck on finding a plus one, Yn-ie!”

“Good luck getting there before Chanhee,” you hollered back.

Jungwoo threw you an expression that needed no subtitles, but fitting ones would read, That was so unnecessary!

As your friend sprinted in one direction, you began walking in the opposite direction. You had a little more than a couple hours before your next lecture, so you could probably either walk around and enjoy the day's nice weather or find a place to work. All bets were off when you felt your phone buzz from your pocket, and you saw the message on the screen. It was a text from your older sister: hey mom's asking if u have something to wear to the wedding lol.

The “LOL” at the end really downplayed how much stress this was going to give you. The entire event of The Wedding had slipped from your mind over the past week—actually, you were pretty sure you forgot the moment you got back into your car to drive home from brunch last weekend.

If you thought you had a large immediate family, your extended one would silence all thoughts instantly. One of your cousins-in-law was getting married in December, which meant you needed to find an outfit and mentally prepare yourself for the amount of people there were going to be in one room.

The Wedding made you anxious.

You shot your sister a frazzled text back. It was something along the lines of: maybe… lemme check the back of my closet… or pray I have funds in my bank account.

You somehow made your way to one of the green spaces on campus. It wasn't the main lawn that people picnicked or hung out on, but it was still just as beautiful as the main one. It also sat right by the café located down here in the engineering corner; you and your friends liked to loiter around here when the weather was nice.

It was exactly why you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Younghoon walking toward you.

“Younghoon?” You voice incredulously. “What're you doing here?”

He beamed at you, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk and enjoying this nice, autumn weather…”

“Down in the engineering buildings?”

He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't purposely trying to look for you or anything,” he said and rocked back and forth on his heels.

You didn't need to know rocket science to read him. “Okay,” you drawled. “Say I believe you.”

“Divine coincidence,” he shrugged helplessly, jovially, even. His eyes were upturned in cute crescent moons. “Oh! And would you look at that—” He swung his backpack around to the front of his body and withdrew your plastic container from its depths, empty and clean, with even his sharpied name scrubbed off. “I just happened to have this on me.”

You sputtered out a laugh and accepted the container from him. “How funny that this pattern of events keeps happening.”

“Pfft, I know, right?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, uh, what're you up to?”

“What am I up to?” You parroted. “Not sure, to be honest. I've got a couple hours to kill. What about you?”

Younghoon gestured to the walkway that bordered the perimeter of the engineering lawn. You fell into step beside one another. “Nothing much, too. I kind of just needed a little walk outside to clear my head.”

You sighed, nodding. “I get that.”

“That sounded… very heavy,” he said, passing you a glance. “Something on your mind, Mastermind?”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off, uncertain of where to begin or how to begin. It seemed like Younghoon had something on his mind, too, and you didn't want to give him something else to hold onto. But when you looked over at him, there was a concentrated, concerned furrow in his brow; he was nowhere else but present with you.

You clasped the back of your neck and felt the knot in your muscles. “There's this thing.”

“Mhm.”

“Colloquially, it's referred to as the Space Gala, but it's kind of just an evening prepared by the Space Grant Consortium with a bunch of booths and a Q&A panel—things like that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wow, a whole consortium?”

“Yup.” You'd been a member of the student club associated with the consortium since freshman year, not just to keep up to date with information about the space grant, but because you enjoyed attending the events and learning about new innovations related to your desired field. “And it's a little formal where everyone dresses nicely to a degree, and each member can bring a plus one. Usually, Sakura comes with me, but something just came up for her that she can't avoid so—” You made a helpless gesture with your hands.

It was no fault of her own that she couldn't avoid the personal matter that came for her. You just needed to find someone to go with you now, but finding someone on such short notice was proving to be less than swift.

“Ah,” Younghoon said in understanding. “You'd like to attend with someone you're comfortable with because it's a large gathering of people, and—when is it?”

“Next Friday,” you grimaced.

He blinked. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “Hey, I mean, if you're looking for someone to go with—I dunno if you're comfortable with me compared to your closer friends—and I don't want to seem as if I'm inviting myself, but—”

“Younghoon,” you cut in with the knots in your neck and shoulders suddenly dissipating. You pressed your hands together, touching them to your lips. “Would you like to go to the Space Gala with me?”

The most beautiful smile blossomed onto his face then, and you swore to go it was warmer than the sun's beams. For a second, his cheekbones darkened with something bashful, but it was hidden in the blink of an eye, and you were met again with the charming Younghoon you knew well. “Why, there's nothing I would love to do more.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I'm happy to go with you, Yn. I mean, what does Sakura usually do to help you when you're in crowded places?”

Hold my hand. That thought was immediately cast aside. That was probably far too much. You coughed, “Uhm, just—you know—stick around me. I get kind of overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around.”

“Overstimulation?” He offered sympathetically.

“I suppose that's the word I'm looking for.”

Younghoon nodded. “Okay. Hey, that's okay. You just tell me what I need to do to make you feel safe and I'll do it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn't figure out the right words to express your gratitude. It was hard not to downplay your own misgivings; it took time to practice being patient with yourself. “Thanks, Hoon. I don't really… know what to say, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said easily. “And I think, personally, I'm a great plus one.”

If only all of your troubles in life could be fixed so simply by Kim Younghoon being your plus one.

Your stroll together took you down toward the environmental science building. It was a path through a heavily forested area, though a little strange even being located somewhere south of the main campus. The paved sidewalk faded into a worn dirt path, and sunlight filtered in through the layers of leaves crisscrossing overhead.

“I've spilled my guts,” you piped up, “now what's on your mind?” You added swiftly, “If you're comfortable with sharing.”

Younghoon blew out an exhale from his mouth. “You know that job I mentioned? The one where I'm working with a youth theater program nearby?”

You nodded. “Yeah, how's that going, by the way?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted with his mouth shifted to the side. “I had my first day with them on Wednesday, and I'm seeing them again today. I think I'm just nervous that they'll get bored of me.”

Ah, you could understand that. Surely your years helping out with your younger siblings could lend some use. It was rare to see Younghoon in this state of unease, and it was even more rare to think of someone who wouldn't like him. Seeing him troubled even a little made your stomach churn, and you wanted to help find a solution. “How old are they?”

“They’re all older primary school kids,” he said. “Young enough to not be scary middle schoolers and old enough to have some kind of attention span.”

You smiled to yourself. “Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.”

“I knew you would.” He brightened. “You have younger siblings, don't you? Any chance one of them wants to become an actor?”

“Oh, hm,” you murmured, “Sadie's got her eyes set on ballet right now and I think Quincey's really only fascinated about his trains. They can be swayed though, I'm sure.”

“How do I keep a kid's interest though?”

You wish you had a formula for that. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “To be so honest with you, kids just like learning about dangerous shit.”

Younghoon wheezed. “What?”

You grabbed his shoulder as you both stopped in the walkway so he would face you. “Listen—no, I'm being serious, Younghoon!” You were trying to get a hold of this man as if you weren't gradually losing it, too. “Do you know how many times my little brother has made his trains go boom?”

“Yn.”

“He has problems, I know; he's like, four and a half or something.”

Younghoon's eyes were filled with mirth as he pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Yn, do you know how insane that sounds?”

Your eyes shuddered in a blink. “Huh?”

He grappled onto your shoulders with another wheeze, eyes moist with laughter and a twinge of something else you couldn't process. “Yn, are you free next Friday at three?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me to see the kids?”

“Okay.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned. Younghoon's head dipped in a nod, and he dropped his hands to the side. You didn't know what the hell just happened, but you had a feeling a solution was very much found.

EPISODE FIVE: TO INFINITY & BEYOND

“PLEASE tell me you're leaving the medieval torture devices out of the discussion.”

You passed him a look from the passenger's side of Younghoon's Prius. (It was objectively hilarious to watch this man fold his long limbs up to get in and out of this car; you didn’t know how the laws of nature even allowed a human with his height to own and drive one of these things.) “You say that like you were sure I wasn't.”

It was currently the Friday following, and the day you and Younghoon would both be each other's plus ones. Presently, you were in his car as he drove you both over to the elementary school where he was part-timing. Once this class was over, you would split off to prepare for tonight's Space Gala before meeting again at the venue on campus.

He turned his signal on as he pulled into the parking lot. “I'm just making sure.” He glanced over at you. “Are you excited?”

“To have about two dozen pairs of eyes on me?” You had faced crowds before and they weren't your forte, but you supposed if they were all bite-sized people this time, it wouldn't be so bad. Plus, Younghoon said they would be sitting down and working in groups most of the time anyways. The appeal of this crowd was that you didn't have to worry about getting swept up.

“They're all nice kids,” he said as if consoling you. “It'll be fun!”

“But I can talk about the trebuchet, right?” You asked after he parked and you were clambering out of the car. That one time you went down a fascinating rabbithole of medieval machinery was about to come in handy.

Younghoon paused with his hand on the top of his door. “That wasn't the one with the horse-pulling, was it?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

He locked the door and the two of you began walking side by side to cross the parking lot. There was a plastic clipboard in his hand made of a material in a shade of translucent neon green, something you expected a PE teacher would carry around, except this clipboard was armed with scripts and instructor notes. The little drama program at this school was currently only an after-school occurrence, but if this all went well, they might be granted permission from the school to start integrating it into everyday classes. It was exciting—you could remember your first years of exposure to things like liquid nitrogen ice cream, egg drop competitions, and the National Geographic issue called Astronauts. Perhaps in another life you would've been an astronaut, rather than the engineer who designed the vessel that would take them into space.

Needless to say, these were some of their most impressionable years, and Younghoon was going to be a big part of these kids’. It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometime between today and last week, Younghoon brought you up to speed on what the kids were currently working on. The head instructor picked out something from an adapted version of How to Train Your Dragon, which in all honesty, was cool as fuck. Immediately, thoughts about how to build a harness apparatus for an actual dragon model came to your mind, but you would need to take a look at the dimensions of the stage and preferably leave flamethrowers out of the end result. That was if you were allowed to or even had the time to.

It would be fun though. Of course it was going to be fun.

Younghoon was the first one to enter the auditorium room. It was a multipurpose building with a large, open concept space lined in carpet with a stage at the furthest end and the doors to the library across the way. With the impending introduction, you stuck behind your friend as he poked his head in. Instant squeals of delight erupted at the sight of him. (He was kidding when he said he was worried about the kids ever getting bored of him, right?) “Younghoon!”

Younghoon’s smile was so big that you could see it even when his face was half turned. “Hi everyone—I brought a friend today. Let’s give her a nice, warm welcome, hm?” Younghoon stepped completely into the room now, his hand coming over to gently sweep you in with him by your shoulder. “This is Yn.”

You raised your hand in a small, awkward wave, a greeting somehow managing to come out of your mouth. There were so many little ones present and they were all sitting in a misshapen blob in the middle of the carpet, their backpacks lined up against one of the side walls. Interacting with children who weren’t your siblings or relatives was a lot different.

“Oh my gosh,” you heard one of them gasp. “Is she his partner?”

“No, she is not my partner—she’s a friend,” Younghoon replied pointedly. “Boys and girls can be friends, Roni.”

There was a boy with a gray colored Lightning McQueen jacket on who said, “That’s exactly what my brother said before he asked his best friend to be boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Well. You angled your head toward your counterpart and murmured to him, “How old did you say these kids were?”

“Now you know why I needed your help,” he joked. “Their brains run too fast.”

“And you think the two of ours can measure up?”

Another small one—she had her dark hair in twin pigtails, knotted off with bows—raised her hand. “Are you an actor like Younghoon?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if there was someone else she could’ve been asking. “Oh, no, I don’t have the skillset to be an actor,” you mused. “I basically make airplanes and rockets.” Basically.

A flurry of excitement kicked up like a snowstorm, and you could feel your skin warm at the sudden increase in energy. Perhaps you should have led with that..? But even so, it was abrupt, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself—

Younghoon cleared his throat, “Hey guys, let’s keep our noise level down, please.”

In response to his request, the kids miraculously managed to quiet themselves down to a buzzing chatter. It hit you at that moment; Younghoon wasn’t just good with kids—he was incredible. Why did he ever think he needed your help when you could barely stutter out a sentence about what you did instead of acting?

“I told Yn about the show we’re putting on,” he said with everyone’s attention now settled on him, including yours, “and she was very excited about seeing it.”

“Is she gonna make us fly?” Someone asked with their eyes wide and big, and you swore you could fit the whole Milky Way within the awe that was in their irises. Kids, man.

“Only if you guys do good today,” Younghoon said. “Why don’t we break off into groups and show Miss Yn what we’ve been practicing, hm?”

You managed to pick out the Star Trek theme over the volume of your hair dryer, and swore loudly as you cut the device off and scurried into your room to find your phone. “Hello?” You answered as you brought your phone back with you into the bathroom.

“Hey,” answered Younghoon, “I was thinking of just picking you up to go to the thing tonight instead of just meeting there.”

It was approximately two hours since you and Younghoon departed from the elementary school. You were back at your apartment now, attempting to get your bearings and clean yourself up for the evening's festivities.

You could feel the gears turning in your head as you weighed your options. “I mean—only if it’s convenient.”

“Okay, I’ll be by at say… 7?”

“Sounds good,” you replied as you finished up styling your hair. Though nicknamed the Space Gala, it wasn’t meant to be incredibly formal like dinner jackets and evening gowns—nice shirts, ironed pants and skirts, and non-sneakers or non-sandals would do fine. “Thanks, Hoon.”

“Mhm!” He chirped to the accompaniment of rustling in the background.

“Also—” You grabbed your phone and flicked the bathroom light off. As you were making your way back into your bedroom, you saw Sakura peer out through her open doorway with curious eyes like that of a cat. She wagged her eyebrows at you knowingly and you shooed at her playfully. “Kim Younghoon, you are such a liar!”

His laugh was sincere and bright. “Technically, I never lied.”

“You are great with kids.”

“Being good with kids is a subjective quality, my friend,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you did great with them, too. They loved you.”

You pursed your lips in a sad, silly attempt to stay petty, but you couldn’t deny that you had a nice time with him and his students this afternoon. Once the initial jitters subsided, you loosened up a considerable amount. Adults oftentimes underestimated how perceptive kids were, but you had a feeling that they caught onto what made you feel overwhelmed pretty quickly. At least, most of the groups you were working with did.

But… you had fun. That was all that mattered in the end. You would enjoy going back to see them again. You kicked your door closed with your foot. “I had a good time,” you replied at last. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Yeah, of course. It was really fun having you there with me—us.”

You both paused on either end of the phone as the conversation reached a natural lull point. As you fitted on the freshly-steamed blouse you planned to wear tonight, you caught the time at the top of your phone screen. “Uh… so I’ll see you in about twenty minutes then?”

Shuffling from his end, and then, “Yep—twenty minutes! See you in a bit, Yn-ah.”

“Bye, Hoon!”

Twenty minutes flew by faster than 299,000,000 meters per second—at least, to you. One moment, you were ducking into the passenger side seat of Younghoon’s Prius, and the next, the two of you were being admitted in through the doors of the annual Space Gala. The usual “venue” that the consortium booked for this event was one of the campus’s main buildings that housed three large lecture rooms on the first floor, as well as two lecture halls on the second floor across from another large event space.

The lobby was filled with a crush of people, with some faces you recognized and others that you didn't. There were tables draped over with black cloth that hosted educational mini games where one could win free button pins and stickers, booths with companies associated with the consortium present to pitch potential internships, and everything in between. Younghoon stuck to your side like glue. You felt the warmth of his hand either between your shoulder blades or on one of your shoulders as the two of you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

It wasn’t until you hit the farther end of the lobby where there was a clearing of people that you felt the pressure in your sternum alleviate. You imagined your gaze appeared a little empty, glassy even, but it was all just an overwhelming wave of sensations on all ends.

“How’re you feeling?” You heard Younghoon’s voice close to your ear so you could hear him but anyone else around you couldn’t.

You focused on that—his voice. “I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m excited to be here and it’s just a lot.”

Younghoon smiled back at you and you felt his palm warm little circles on your back. “Take your time. The guy at the front says it’ll be another half hour until we can expect the panel to start.”

“Kkura and I—we, uh, usually go in a little earlier than everyone else.” Depending on the year, you and Sakura either occupied seats in the front couple of rows or one of the balcony seats. The former was to distract you from the idea of several hundred other people being in the room behind you, whereas the latter was so you had a large space between you and the crowd. Both were methods that you and your friend deduced were the best at soothing any feelings of overwhelm.

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, we can still do that. Are there any tables you wanna visit before we go in?”

“Actually,” you said, and your heart leapt at the memory of one booth you visited every year, “I have to show you this one thing—it’s so neat. It might be on the other side of the lobby, but we can cut upstairs and get to it that way.” Where there was a will, there was most definitely a way.

Younghoon’s expression mirrored the excitement in yours. “Lead on, Yn-ah,” he chuckled and let you grab his hand to show him why you loved what you did.

This year was dubbed a balcony year.

From yours and Younghoon’s perch up in the balcony rows, you could peer down at the hundreds of heads below, as well as the presentations given onstage. You were always blown away by the new information and possibilities brought up during the year’s presentations, as well as during the question and answer section where audience members could either line up to ask the panelists their queries directly or send them anonymously to an online platform.

Your preferred method was most definitely the latter because public speaking was not your forte, even though it meant you would have less probability for your questions to be answered. One year, Kkura had practically escorted you up to a panelist when everyone was leaving because you had a burning question.

But this year was different. All of your awe was coupled with the amount of marvel expressed by your partner for the evening. If you were fascinated by what was being discussed below, then Younghoon just entered a whole new galaxy.

You found yourself glancing over at him the whole night to watch his reaction. Periodically, your eyes would meet, and you might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but it was completely dashed away by the pure reverence that was stark on his face.

At some point, the evening did have to come to an end, and you and Younghoon lingered up in the balcony to let everyone else below you trickle out first.

“That,” Younghoon whistled low, “was incredible. I’m so—” He made unintelligible hand gestures before coming up with a word, “—bedazzled. I’m positively bedazzled.”

You grinned. “I’m very pleased to hear that you’re bedazzled.”

“I mean, why don’t we hear about this on the news?” He queried, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. He reached up to adjust the wiggly star headband on top of his head that he won from a spin-the-wheel stall earlier. “If they talked about finding organic chemicals on faraway planets on the evening news, viewership from my devices would skyrocket for them.”

“Don’t we all wish they talked about space on the news,” you sighed as you leaned your cheek against your fist. “But also, as Dr. Cho mentioned, we can’t get too excited yet. Organic chemicals for us might not mean organic chemicals for an alien species.”

Younghoon nodded slowly. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s so interesting to think about… that we’re possibly not alone and that they could either be very similar to us or very different, or maybe even somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” You couldn’t count the amount of times you got lost in a rabbithole of research when you were supposed to be working on assignments instead. Your eyes darted down to the lower levels to check the population density, and garnered that you could still wait at least a couple minutes more. “Hey, you know, if you're interested in this stuff, then you should come to some of the planetarium’s presentation nights sometime.”

Your counterpart’s eyes widened like the lens of a telescope. “We have a planetarium?”

You giggled. “Yeah, silly. What did you think the astronomy tower was for?”

“We have an astronomy tower?”

You smiled wide against your knuckles as you nodded. “Maybe you should wander down by the engineering buildings more often.”

Younghoon made an incredulous face. “Maybe I should.” He considered something for a moment and you watched the smile blossom onto his face again. “Though, I have a feeling that if I looked into a telescope, I'd only see you—’cause you're a star.”

“That was awful,” you snorted into your hand, shaking your head.

“Not my best work,” he admitted. He could admit defeat when he was met by it, but he wouldn't let it hinder his efforts. “You know, I think Galileo was wrong.”

“How so?” You asked as you motioned for the two of you to start gathering your things.

“You're the center of my universe.”

You were pretty sure the lower levels could hear your laugh echo against the walls. “Oh my god.”

“Or maybe that just makes you the sun,” he said to you in a singsong tone while trailing after you.

“I’m walking home, Younghoon.”

“You can try, sunshine.”

EPISODE SIX: THE ONE WHERE IT GETS WORSE

MURPHY'S Law stated that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” with an adage of “at the worst possible time.” You needed to have words with this Murphy.

You were now in the thralls of midterm season. It was common knowledge and experience among STEM students that once midterm season began, it didn't stop until finals hit. You hadn't even realized how fast midterms had arrived until it was pouncing on you like a predator in the brush. You were currently being torn apart by the jaws of a hungry lion called Life.

“I haven't finished the grant app, Kkura.” You stared at the white wall behind your desk with a blank glaze over your eyeballs. There were sticky notes and pieces of paper tacked there with reminders and diagrams like they were makeshift whiteboards, but you weren't looking at them.

“My aerothermo exam is in two days,” you continued on in a droning voice, “and the internship interview is the day after.”

You spun around in your chair to face where Sakura was perched crisscrossed on your bed with a sympathetic frown. The internship addition was a new one. You had sent in your application a couple months ago, and results of applicants who had passed to the interview phase were only recently released. While you were relieved beyond measure that you made it, the interview couldn't have come at a worse time.

“Well,” she began, “we already decided that I'm going to help you prepare for the interview, Yn. The grant app isn't due for another month. All you need to worry about right now is the aerothermo exam, right?”

When she put it that way… “You're right,” you sighed and lifted your hands up to dig the heels of your palm into your eyes. Sometimes it just took an outside perspective to knock a little logic into you.

The Star Trek theme song blared from your phone, and you both startled at the abruptness. You fumbled for the device, then quickly picked up the phone call when you saw that it was from your mom. “Hi, mom. Everything okay?”

“Your brother can't make it to the wedding.”

You made a face. “I'm guessing you don't mean Quincey…”

You could imagine the exasperation on your mom's face from the other side of the phone. “Yn, I call you because you're the logical one in the family.”

If only she knew what pain you were putting yourself through because of your current lack of sense. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Why can't Justin make it?” Justin was your eldest brother who had the divine French toast recipe.

“He's flying to Paris for his culinary school interview. You know I always tell that boy to double check his schedules—he never listens,” your mom exhaled sharply. You could hear the loud clatter of the dryer in the background; she must be doing laundry.

“Sounds like Justin,” you murmured. “So what's the problem? Can't we just go sans Justin?”

“We already RSVP'd with the seven of us, and your cousin already paid for the reception meal in full. We can't have an empty, wasted seat, Yn-ah.”

You frowned. You supposed that would be a problem then. “Why don't we just find someone to bring along as a plus-one?”

“That's what I was thinking,” she replied. “I was going to invite Rian, you know, the boy from next door.”

Somehow, your mood managed to sour further. You and Sakura made eye contact, and she tilted her head to the side in question. You gave her an emphatic thumb's down before replying to your mom, “Wait—can we—mom, can we not invite Rian?” You dragged your free hand down the side of your face, and you saw Sakura grimace when you said that guy's name.

“Why not?”

“Be… because,” you stammered, pushing out a sigh when you weren't sure how to describe your incredible disdain for your childhood next-door neighbor. He was your age, and fortunately, you were never matchmade with him. Unfortunately, he was a jerk with inferiority issues and delighted in competing with you in everything. “He wouldn't want to come with,” you said lamely. His presence would do the exact opposite of soothing your anxiety.

Sakura gestured with her hands. Tell her he's full of shit!

Oh, you wished.

“Yn.” Your mother could smell lies, even through the phone. “I wouldn't know who else to invite.”

“Daphne's partner!” You exclaimed desperately. Daphne was your older sister who attended another college on the other side of the city getting her master's degree. “Can't we invite Sam?”

“Sam's in Vietnam in December.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Yn.”

“Sorry.” Dear fuck, you were slipping. You needed a solution—anything at all. Something to put out one fire, even temporarily. “What if I came up with a plus one?” You regretted it immediately.

“Oh, like Sakura? I wouldn't mind if you brought her.”

Anyone but Rian, anyone but Rian. “Yeah,” you drawled. “That's who I had in mind.” You lifted your head to meet your friend's eyes again, and she knitted her brows in confusion. You mouthed that you would tell her in a moment.

When you and your mom hung up, you deflated in your chair, dropping your phone onto your chest. “I'm fucked.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I told her I would bring you to the wedding with us.”

Sakura sat there for a moment to process the information. “Yn, honey, I'm going to be in Japan in December.”

“I know,” you cried.

“Who are you bringing then?”

“I don't know.”

Murphy of Murphy's Law had better sleep with one eye open.

It was likely in your worst interest to be at the convenience store at midnight rather than in your bed asleep, attempting to let your brain process the concepts from your aerothermodynamics course. Against your better judgment, though, you were here, slumped over your usual table and seat as you watched YouTube and sipped on a box of chocolate milk.

In the distance, the door opened and closed, but the sound was muffled through your earbuds. Out of your peripherals, someone materialized next to you. You peered up at the tall man beside you now, blocking out the fluorescent LEDs from burning your eyes. “Hey,” you said quietly.

Younghoon took in your state with sad eyes. “I got your text.”

“I didn't think you'd be awake.” Didn't he have a rehearsal tomorrow morning? Or rather, later this morning.

“Well, I'm glad I was awake, for starters.” He frowned and then leaned over you to gently wrap you up in his arms. “Rough night?”

Your face was buried in the fabric of his hoodie. This was nice. “Rough everything.”

“Ah, one of those,” he sympathized. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Thank you for coming though.” You leaned back and patted the empty seat next to you. “Wanna watch squirrels with me?”

You watched his expression falter and fill with surprised amusement with a pinch of confusion. “Did you—you just said squirrels, right?”

“Yeah, they're competing in a backyard Olympics for this trophy of walnuts.”

He sat down with you to watch the squirrels. In your free time, you liked watching engineering or science-type videos on the internet. Most of them were as educational as they were entertaining, like the backyard squirrel series, where this man used his mechanical engineering degree to build advanced obstacles to test and observe the vast capabilities of the squirrel.

You shared your earbud with Younghoon so he could listen, and you were now connected by a wire. He mimicked your position, too, with his chin nestled onto his folded arms over the tabletop.

You weren't sure what possessed him to drive all the way over here at such an ungodly hour of night, but you were grateful for his company, nonetheless. Even if it felt like the sky was falling, you could let this moment in time exist outside the conventional timeline. It could be its own singular moment, just you and Younghoon.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how it all came back to this. You'd never thought you were meant to see him again after tutoring him, let alone having spent so much time with him again these past few weeks. If you didn't belong in his world, and vice versa, then what was this?

You swore the monotonous buzzing from the lights above was making your eyelids slowly fall with the weight of lead.

Younghoon's eyes fluttered over to you just as you were about to doze off. He sat up and turned the video off. “Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking your arm.

You hummed, the bags under your eyes becoming worse by the second. “Huh?”

He chuckled under his breath as you put your head back down. “We can watch this another day,” he promised, patting your head. “We should get you home though so you can sleep.”

“Oh my gosh,” you groaned and picked yourself up, “you have rehearsal tomorrow morning—what time is it?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, love.” He was wrapping your earbud wire around his fingers into a neat, little bundle. “I'll be fine. Let's go home, though, yeah?”

You pressed your palms to your eyes in a desperate attempt to rehydrate them. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, Hoon.”

“Don't say sorry,” he cooed, pressing your earbuds into the palm of your hand and tucking your phone into your pocket. “I felt a lot better meeting you here. Do you feel a little better?”

You gave a small nod. Your brain was too muddled, too exhausted, to really comprehend what was being expressed as plain as the sun at high noon on his face.

“Then that's all that matters.” There was a pause. Your vision was blurry for the second that his eyes wandered somewhere else. You didn't know if you just didn't see it or if you just chose to not acknowledge it.

Then the moment passed, as all things did in the flow of nature, and he walked you home.

EPISODE SEVEN: PARTY PEOPLE (BBANGNYU'S VERSION)

“CHANHEE?”

Choi Chanhee swirled the straw of his melted iced americano around in its cup. “Yup.”

“Who would you invite to a wedding?” You posed, twirling around the mechanical pencil in your hand between your fingers. You didn't even know why you still had the writing utensil out—everyone had pretty much gone home for the evening.

He released a sigh indicative of a very tired data science major, who doubled-majored in math. “The person I'm marrying? I dunno.”

You and Chanhee were stuck with the late shift at the math tutoring center on a Monday night. The crowd usually cleared out by nine o'clock, but the two of you weren't technically allowed to leave until nine-thirty. Most nights when you were stuck with this shift, you and he didn't mind the quiet in order to finish assignments of your own.

Jungwoo would have been here to suffer with you, too, but he had an excuse tonight. Something about an emergency at the NCT fraternity house.

You blew a puff of air through your mouth. “Not your wedding; just a wedding. One that you're invited to.”

“You're not inviting me, are you?”

“You don't wanna be my plus one for a wedding?” You grinned.

“Depends…” He hummed pleasantly, “what're they serving?” That was a valid question that you lacked an answer to.

In front of you on your laptop screen sat your incomplete space grant application. After the hell that was last week, you somehow survived it by the seat of your pants. Now, you needed to focus on your two other exams for this week, the wedding debacle, this grant app, and praying that the interview had gone as well as you thought it had.

So many things to think about, so little brain cells.

You glanced over at the corner of your laptop screen to see how much time you had left to try and be productive. From the corner of your eye, you saw the swift movements of Chanhee's thumbs flying over his phone keyboard.

You turned to your application to read over your responses for the ten thousandth time. “Who've you been texting all night, Chanhee?”

“Huh? Oh, my best friend.”

You hummed. “The one that goes to the uni across the country, right?”

His response was cut off by the sound of the tutoring center doors opening. Both of you looked up in tandem, mentally bracing yourselves for—

“Younghoon?”

There was a weird fluttery feeling in your chest as he beamed at the both of you and bounded over from the front doors. “Hey guys! I was just walking past and thought I would swing by.”

Chanhee's eyebrows flew all the way up to his pink hairline. “Yes, because it makes complete sense why you would be meandering around south campus at nine o'clock at night,” he quipped.

Younghoon seemed, to his credit, unbothered by Chanhee pointing out the obvious. He stole one of the chairs from another table and sat down across from you and Chanhee. “You guys don't play any music when everyone's gone?”

“Sometimes we do,” you replied, glancing up from your computer screen before replacing your word choice somewhere.

Chanhee nodded his agreement as he set his phone down on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “Oh, Younghoon-ah, I've been meaning to discuss something with you.”

Younghoon perked up. “What's up?”

“What're we gonna do about your friend and my friend?”

You figured out pretty quickly that you had no idea what they were talking about. Even after having played Monopoly with some of them a few weeks ago, it still hadn't hit you as to the full-scale of these two guys’ shared social circles. Sure, you orbited some friend groups of a decent size, but it felt like they all hung out with each other at least once a week.

“Ah,” Younghoon drawled with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, “Jacob and JC!Yn, right? I don't know; I find it kind of amusing.”

Chanhee frowned. A furrow had formed between his brows. “If amusing means to the extent where I'd like to rip my hair out, that is. Did you know that Jacob sent me to go intervene when Jaehyun was talking to JC!Yn at the hot tub?”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm.” Chanhee made a vague flourish with his wrist in the air. “And did you see how they were at the movie night on Saturday?”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “I did see that. He kept looking over when Juyeon was braiding her hair,” he chuckled.

“I am at odds, Younghoon-ah!” Chanhee groaned into his palms. “I just need them to kiss already and get it over with.”

“So you wanna meddle?”

“I'm not saying we should meddle, but…” He drawled with cheeky, puckered lips and his palms open upward. His gaze went to you on his right side, and he knocked the back of his knuckles against your arm. “Oy, Yn-ah. What do you think?”

You hummed and drew your eyes up from your laptop screen, meeting Younghoon's gaze first. Glancing over to the friend who addressed you, you said, “What are we talking about?”

“Girl, you need to get off that grant app.”

“This grant app needs to get off me,” you shot back. “I need it to be perfect, Chanhee.”

“Nothing is perfect, Yn,” he told you. “You know what you should do? You should ask JC!Yn to look over it. That might ease your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” you said at last in order to appease him. The smart thing would've been to heed his advice and ask his friend to proofread it. Perhaps you would later this week.

“Good. Anyways, I was asking you what you thought about how to matchmake our two friends,” resumed Chanhee. He tucked his limbs inward as he spun around in his chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more context than that.” Besides that, were you really the best option to ask for advice? You weren't in a relationship, and now that you thought about it, neither were the two of them.

You saw Chanhee and Younghoon exchange glances and there seemed to be a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. At last, Younghoon gave his counterpart a flourishing gesture with his hand as if saying 'all yours.’ Chanhee cleared his throat. “So Younghoon's friend Kevin, who is Jacob's best friend, introduced JC!Yn to Jacob.”

“And we're pretty sure they like each other,” Younghoon added on. “There was this pool party a couple weekends ago, and they came to the party together. This past weekend, they looked pretty cozy at the movie night that Jacob and Kevin hosted at their apartment, too.”

You had only ever met JC!Yn once in passing, and it was because Chanhee forgot his calculator at the library right before an exam, and she had been the champion to deliver it to him in the examination hall lobby. She was a real one, that was for sure.

You pursed your lips and rested your chin on your fist. “Aren't all of you guys single?” Was what you led with.

Chanhee deadpanned. “That's not the point…”

“I do have to point that out though because you ask me like I would know what to do,” you laughed, vaguely gesturing back to yourself. “I'm just as single as the rest of you.”

The two boys’ eyes whipped back to one another for a millisecond, before looking away.

You nearly leapt to your feet, exclaiming, “I saw that! What was that?”

“Nothing,” they answered at once. They did realize it made them look all the more conspicuous, right?

“We just realized that not all of us are single,” Younghoon raced to smooth over his and Chanhee's fib. “My friend Sangyeon—”

Chanhee snorted, “Hyunjae told me he doesn't believe him.”

“And you believe Hyunjae?”

“Touché.”

You unconsciously began spinning your pencil around your fingers again. “Wait, so Sangyeon is cuffed?”

Younghoon turned to you to explain. Apparently, his original group of friends that didn't include Chanhee's extension, kept a running joke that Sangyeon was either making up his girlfriend or was keeping her stashed on a secret island in the Bahamas. None of them had seen any evidence that she truly existed, but Younghoon wasn't convinced that Sangyeon was the type of person to go through all of this strife just to prove a point.

After all of that, you were more confused than before. “But why wouldn't he just show you a picture of her and prove that he met this girl?”

“That's what I'm saying,” Chanhee interjected, flinging his arms up in the air. “It would be so easy to just silence us with a little picture!”

Younghoon, clearly amused by the discourse taking place, leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Beats me. I personally think it's because she works for a secret government agency, which is why she can't exist online.”

Chanhee's expression flattened. “Uh-huh.”

“But Juyeon says that it's probably because if he only shows a picture, we might accuse him of Photoshop,” Younghoon continued. “Which, in retrospect, says a lot about his faith in us.”

You made a face, your eyebrows arching high. “Oh, for sure.”

Debating on conspiracy theories about mystery girlfriends made the last thirty minutes of yours and Chanhee's shift fly by fast. Suffice to say, you hadn’t worked on your application nearly as much as you wanted to, but you were entertained for thirty minutes, which was just as well. Didn’t doctors say that it was good to laugh at least three times a day…? Good thing you weren’t going into medicine.

The three of you started packing everything up at exactly nine-thirty. There was no reason to stay any longer when there was literally no one else here anyway.

As you shoved your laptop into your backpack, Younghoon knocked on the table in front of you. “Wanna grab dinner after this?”

You opened your mouth to reply when Chanhee beat you to it. He hadn’t seen Younghoon grab your attention, and didn’t know who he was addressing. “Oh, that’s nice of you to as—”

“I meant Yn.”

You closed your eyes and sank your teeth into your bottom lip to have some dignity left (read: not start wheezing). Chanhee’s eyes had gone wide, eyebrows rocketing back up to his hairline. He scoffed, “Wow.”

Younghoon grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Chanhee. We have a routine.”

With Chanhee now thoroughly offended, your little trio filed out of the tutoring center. You locked the doors up behind you once you flicked off all the lights in the room. The walk down in south campus was arguably nicer than north campus, even if you were a little biased because this was where you considered your “turf” to be. South campus was much better illuminated than north campus with pretty, little lamp posts and five different styles of architecture from building to building. You were sure it was an eyesore to any of the architecture majors here, but they were interesting to look at when you were suffering in the engineering library. (And at least they had windows.)

You took up the position in between Younghoon and Chanhee, the latter of whom seemed to let his pettiness about the rejected dinner date go.

“Guys,” Younghoon suddenly said. The corner of his lips were turned upward in a degree you could only define as mischievous. “What is the most terrifying word in physics?”

You scrunched your brows together. There was no way you should get this wrong, but then again, physics wasn't exactly a subject where anyone got everything right—

“Oops.”

You snorted, and beside you, Chanhee's lip wobbled as he desperately held in a reaction. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming and tried to think about it logically.

Younghoon shoved his hands in his pockets and swiped his tongue over his lower lip through a smile. “Aw, come on! I cracked up when I heard that one in a TikTok for the first time.”

“I've just heard some of your better ones,” you confessed. “Chanhee, did I tell you that Younghoon used to wax poetic to study for calc?”

Chanhee's mouth curled up into an amused little smile. “You did! I think it's cute.”

“You know, I think it's cute, too.”

In the dim lighting from the nearby lamp posts, Younghoon's cheekbones flushed something rosy. “You flatter me.”

As the three of you climbed up the stairs that would bring you to main campus, Chanhee piped up, “What if we just slipped Jacob and JC!Yn notes from the other person?”

You shook your head. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” He said in earnest. “It would just be innocent, little pick-up lines or something. Nothing like a whole ass confession.”

“We're reading Much Ado About Nothing in my Shakespeare lecture right now,” said Younghoon, “and the cast does something similar to one of the couples they're trying to get together. Sounds kind of fun, to be honest.”

“Not you, too!”

Younghoon slung an arm around your shoulders and flourished his free arm out toward the heavens. There was a pleasant feeling attached to the weight of his arm around you. “C’mon, use that mastermind brain of yours and imagine! Jacob's would just say something like—I dunno—if I whispered in thine ear that thou hast a body of beauty, wouldst thou hold it against me?”

“Wow,” you marveled, ignoring the amount of fluttering happening in your stomach, “that was pretty good.”

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Thank you.”

“But you're not doing it.”

The boys on either side of you released twin groans of anguish into the night, as if their mother had just denied them access to their Xbox for the evening. You rolled your eyes lightly. “I feel like relationships are like spontaneous processes—they’ll get to the right configuration eventually, organically. In other words, we should leave them be and let them figure it out for themselves.” You walked in front and turned around to face them so you could pin them both down with a firm look.

Younghoon raised his arms up in playful surrender. “Promise we won't meddle.”

“I hate when you use entropy statistics against me.” Chanhee gave a reluctant nod, sighing once again, “But I agree. We won’t meddle.”

EPISODE EIGHT: DON'T ASK ME THE COLOR OF ANYTHING

IT was the Star Trek theme song that blasted you out of your study bubble. In retrospect, the theme song was quite a subdued piece compared to something like the Star Wars theme, but for some reason you thought it was a good idea to turn the volume all the way up for your ringer whenever you were home. (God forbid you accidentally left it on when you were in class…) From your desk, you scooted over to grab your phone from where it was on your bed. Younghoon's caller ID beamed its cute smile up at you—the picture you'd set was of him and his dog from home, Bori. You had yet to meet Bori, but when you asked him for a picture for his contact photo, he sent this one.

You accepted the call. “Hello?”

“I just realized I pressed Call instead of Facetime. Please accept the Facetime thingy.”

Why did he sound so cute? You lifted the phone away from your ear and saw the request on the screen. While pressing the green accept button, you said to him, “What if I said no?”

“Then it must be Opposite Day,” he sang from the other side of the screen, his face manifesting before you. He was holding his phone up above him so you could see he was lying down in bed, his dark hair strewn over the pillow beneath his head. His initial smile widened to reach his eyes when your side of the screen loaded and he could see you. “There she is.”

“Hi Hoon,” you greeted with a small chuckle. You looked around your cluttered workspace for a place to prop your phone up against.

“What're you up to?” He asked while he adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I—” you made a sound of accomplishment as your phone stayed upright in the space between your desk lamp and a pebble paperweight painted like a rocket that your little sister made you, “—am brushing up on fluid mechanics.”

“Aah… fluid mechanics.” You could hear the slight intonation in his words.

“Don't say the joke.”

“I wasn't gonna say the joke!” He giggled. When he calmed, he pressed his mouth in a smile and made his cheeks look as squishy as a loaf of bread. “Is this a bad time though?”

You shook your head, slipping your pencil behind your ear so you could lace your fingers beneath your chin. “No, it’s not a bad time. This isn’t super important; I just didn’t want old material to jumpscare me when I go into our quiz this week.”

Younghoon nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. That means it’s good that I interrupted your workaholic tendencies.”

You glanced away with your hand half covering your face, and it coaxed a laugh from him that seemed to warm the room. You sputtered, “In my defense—” you paused, your lips parted; it hit you then that you had no defense.

His eyes were the shapes of upturned crescent moons, like shallow bowls filled with mirth. “It’s cute when you try to deny it.”

“It’s not denial—I didn’t deny it,” you pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he snorted, completely unconvinced, “whatever you say, Miss Mastermind. I should call you Miss Workaholic instead.”

“Aish,” you chided weakly. You glanced down at the old notes that were splayed out before you on your desk. All of the concepts were relatively familiar to you; it was just to refresh yourself. To be frank, though, it wasn’t like you’d spent all evening reviewing old material. Every thirty minutes or so, you could spend another half hour on your phone, getting lost in the entertainment there. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

You realized that there had been a pregnant moment of silence just then, and when you looked back over at the phone screen, found him watching you with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You cleared your throat, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and to take the pencil there down. “So, uhm, any reason in particular for calling?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. “Hm? Oh, not really. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Random question, but are you doing anything for Halloween?”

Ah, you nearly forgot that was coming up. With all of the chaos happening in your life at the moment, Halloween was the last thing on your mind.

“Not at the moment,” you told him. You mused, “I don’t think I’ve done anything proper for Halloween since I moved out of my childhood house.” Going Trick-or-Treating as an adolescent was definitely a core memory for you, and was still a prevalent tradition in your household because of the little ones, Sadie and Quincey. As you got older, however, you usually opted to stay at home and answer the door to hand out candy. You still dressed up for the fun of it, and decorating the house was always half the joy of the holiday. You always considered trying to build some kind of candy contraption or maybe setting up a haunted maze in the front lawn, but alas, maybe in the future. “What about you?”

“Well, there’s that party that Changmin and Chanhee are hosting at their place.”

That rang a bell. “Ohh, shit. I totally forgot about that.” Chanhee had mentioned something about that the other night at the tutoring center, but you didn’t make any promises about attending—he knew your crowd preferences, so he didn’t push it. You were sure his and his friend’s parties were a blast though.

Younghoon shifted his lounging position, so now he was laying on his stomach with his legs kicking up from behind him. “Would you wanna come with? I remember that you went to that party with Sakura in September, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to come to this one.”

You tapped the end of your pencil against the pages of your notebook. “I’m not really sure,” you confessed. “I think I originally didn’t plan on going.”

“Ah.”

Guilt swirled around in the pit of your stomach at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry; I probably sound like such a party pooper.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he rushed to assure you. “I get that it might not be something you’re into, and that’s completely fine, you know? I think it would be fun to go with you, but not if you wouldn’t have fun there.”

You inhaled deeply. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t think I would have fun once I—y’know, drank something—but yeah, I think a night of just horror movies or something will do me better.”

He nodded and carded a hand through his hair. “Of course; I understand. And your schedule’s been pretty packed lately, so it’ll be like a little break for you,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks, Hoon.” You shot him a small smile. It was really cool that he was being so understanding, but you shouldn’t have anticipated anything less from Kim Younghoon. He’d always been this cool.

You learned to read the room, and the energy definitely was lower than before. “Do you know what you’re gonna go dressed as?” You asked in hopes of bringing that energy back up.

He perked up a bit at the question. “I—actually, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I was thinking a vampire, but I feel like that should just be saved as my backup. That idea’s a little tired.”

Younghoon as a vampire—? Wake up, Yn. You laughed to yourself as a thought popped into your head. “It would be so funny if you showed up as Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

He snorted. “That's not a bad idea. I'm not a science guy, but I am an actor.”

“Hey, there you go,” you said. You pursed your lips. “Hm… I feel like your face is too pretty to fuck up—”

“Thanks?” He guffawed, hand propping his head up. “I'm scared to ask you what that even means.” You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you had in mind, but it seemed that he beat you to a punchline. “To be honest, I'd so let you fuck up my face.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hyunjae? Hyunjae, is that you?” Younghoon called out behind him toward his closed bedroom door. His ears were rosy as blood, and he was biting his lip through a grin. “I've gotta go, Yn-ie. Byeee!”

“Younghoon, hey! Don't hang—”

He hung up. You took a moment to collect yourself after what he said, as if you could even begin to unpack its meaning.

You could hear the partygoers even from the relative serenity of the back corner of the convenience store. It was Halloween night, and when the sun sank down into the horizon to signal the coming of night, so too did it mark the beginning of the Hallow's Eve festivities.

You had just dropped Sakura off at one of her friends’ house for a party, and she would text you later when she was done. The plan tonight was originally to chill at home and watch scary movies, but you instead found yourself at your second home with your laptop playing The Nightmare Before Christmas. On your head sat a deep purple colored witch's hat on a headband, with glittery black tulle creating a skirt at its base. Even if you didn't dress up completely, you would still pop on a bit of holiday spirit.

With you was a 6-pack of Halloween themed mini cupcakes and a carton of strawberry milk. They would function as your popcorn for the movie and your candy for the night.

From beside you on the table, your phone buzzed. You could see the words diffuse rapidly onto your screen, your eyes snagging on the parts where your older sister was asking about Sakura coming to the wedding even though she was supposed to be in Japan. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to text back. Fuck, the wedding. You texted back a very fast, ‘uhm abt that.’

daphne: ykw don't tell me anything ignorance is bliss daphne: okay what i came here to do originally… daphne: *sent images* your phone: awwwh how cute!! wait wtf since when was quincey into power rangers 😭😭 daphne: dear god don't get me started

You laughed and sent her a final text back commenting about the pictures she sent of her, Sam, Sadie, and Quincey all dressed up to go Trick-or-Treating tonight. As usual, your family extended an invitation to you, but you declined for this year.

“Damn, I should've dressed up like the power rangers.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice right by your ear, and you ripped your earbud out, whipping around to see who it was. There was Younghoon, laughing at your expense with a very amused smile flitting over his face from your reaction.

About five different emotions passed over you at once, preventing you from coming up with an adequate response to his sudden appearance. Your mouth, frankly, had gone dry. His hair was colored and highlighted with strands of platinum silver, artfully arranged around a pair of black sunglasses atop his head. He was clad in all black—the leather jacket seated on his shoulders embellished with white detailing, and his skin glimmering with silver chains. He had on a pair of motorcycle gloves that he was now shucking off, and you realized his lips were a shade darker than they usually were—wait… were they moving?

“—Yn. Yn-iee—”

You blinked long and hard. “Yeah. I'm here.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “I just said I was sorry for sneaking up on you.”

“Oh.” Wait, he smelled so good right now… Not that he didn't smell good every other day, but…

“Oh,” he parroted with a cock of his eyebrow. “So, what do you think?” He asked the question you didn't even realize you would fear him to ask, and gestured down to the outfit. Younghoon sighed and it sounded half like a laugh. “I feel ridiculous actually. Hyunjae was like—you should do the biker thing with me. And I was like, what do you mean 'biker thing?’ Apparently this is the biker thing.”

You were slapping yourself across the face internally to say something. “You went from Prius driver to motorcycle rider.”

Younghoon nearly keeled over and had to turn to the side to laugh. “I still am a Prius driver,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyes flickered up and down his form again, unable to string together words once more. “Uhm, your hair is silver.”

“Excellent observation.” He reached over and poked the little witch hat on top of your head. “This is cute, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, reaching up to touch either side of the headband. “I'm just here waiting for Kkura.”

“Oh, are you guys watching something together?”

You shook your head and turned back to your computer screen to wake it up. “No, I volunteered to be her chauffeur tonight. She's at a party right now, but I figured since I had time to kill, I could chill here.”

“It feels like a crime for you to be here all alone,” he said with one of his hands braced against the back of your chair and the other on the table next to your laptop. He was leaning over you now to peer at your screen because the brightness of the store lights made it difficult to see from where he stood, but it made him all the more apparent to your senses.

Goddamn, he was everywhere. “Well, I should be asking you as to why you're here,” you said with a cough. “Don't you have a party to go to, Biker Boy?”

He chuckled at the nickname and stood back up. “I do, but Chanhee and Changmin forgot to get triple A batteries for their battery-operated creepy candy bowl,” he said. “But I'm glad I was sent out to run an errand now.”

You shifted your mouth to the side in a sorry attempt to hide your contentment with that answer. “I'm glad, too. You—the costume looks good, by the way.”

Younghoon sat down in his usual seat across from you. “Thank you,” he replied, pleased. “I almost went out as a loaf of bread. Did you know Party City has these bread loaf costumes that you can wear around your head?”

“I'm not surprised at all,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

You found yourself unhappy with the idea of Younghoon leaving after this. Once your conversation was over, you would go back to your movie and he would go back to his party. Before, you didn't mind the idea of having an evening to yourself, but with him right here in front of you, it was difficult to go back.

Him being here with you felt right. You couldn't explain why you felt that way. He looked like he was about to say something, and you rushed to beat him to it. “Want a cupcake?” You blurted. Before you could go back on your words, you gently pried a miniature cupcake out from its containment and offered it to him.

Younghoon lit up, delicately transferring the treat to his own hands. “I wasn't going to ask, but don't mind if I do. Thanks, Yn.”

You hummed happily as he peeled off the cupcake wrapper and took a generous bite. He did a little happy dance in his seat, and you smiled half into your fist as you leaned part of your cheek onto it.

“That's actually so good,” he said with wide, confused eyes as he reached toward the furthest end of the table for a napkin in the aluminum canister. “Why haven't I tried those before? I think I'm gonna have to take some back.”

“I don't have them often, but they are quite the guilty pleasure,” you agreed. “I would totally sponsor a couple packs for you to take to the party.”

Younghoon made a nodding motion with his head as he dabbed the napkin over his lips. He pulled the napkin away to inspect it, frowning. “Shit, I need to reapply,” he murmured and fished around in his jacket pocket for a tube of the shade that he had wiped off his lips.

Some force from the universe compelled you to do something fucking stupid. “I can help.” No, you can't! Why would you say that, why would you say—

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? Sure, I'd appreciate it,” he said, and held the lip gloss out to you. It was a muted brown-ish pink color that would leave a stain of itself upon the wearer's lips, but also had an initial glossy appearance.

With no room for backpedaling, you stood up and took the lip product from him. You stood before him now, between his legs with his hands resting on his knees.

He peered up at you through his dark lashes, lips parted gently.

You wiped the excess product off the doe foot applicator against the rim of the packaging, and then smeared the product over his bottom lip. You took your finger to smudge the color around, making quick work with a second layer for shine. When you were done, you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath the whole time. You passed the lip product back to him quietly. “All done,” you whispered.

He didn't even look at your handiwork—he didn't need to. He smiled; you thought you saw him steal a glance at some place other than your eyes. “Thanks, love.”

You were right before when you thought you would dread him leaving. He did go, at some point, after retrieving what he had come here for along with at least three half-dozen containers of cupcakes. He sent you a wave from the door, and then he was gone into the night.

You sat there without doing much or thinking anything for a moment or two, your fingertips stained with the color of his lips.

Regret wormed a hole through your stomach, and it felt like it was gaping wide open. Maybe you should've gone to the party, or maybe you should have asked him to stay. Maybe you should have said something different, and maybe… maybe you should have…

Kissed him?

Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the seat across the table from you, and you arrived at a truth you could no longer ignore.

your phone: how do u know u like a guy

kkuramon &lt;3 : IM LEAVING THIS PARTY RIGHT NOW.

EPISODE NINE: ARE YOU A CHICKEN, YN? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

“I'M not going to tell him.”

“Yn,” Sakura said gravely with a deep inhale, “for the last time, are you a chicken?”

You blinked. “I'm sorry, wha—”

“Bawk bawk. Are you a chicken?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at her. It was a crazy image, this view of your best friend, as she stood in front of you with her futuristic spacecore outfit from the Halloween party she left early, squawking like a chicken. “I think you are drunk.”

Sakura deadpanned. “I'm not drunk.”

“And I'm in denial.”

“Oh, good. So you admit it.”

After rapid discourse in your texts, you went to pick Sakura up from her party, then brought her straight home so you could both deconstruct what exactly you concluded while at the convenience store. You recalled everything that happened while Younghoon was there with you, reliving that exact moment it hit you square in the face like an oncoming train.

And now you were here, being asked if you were a chicken and being accused of denial.

You huffed. “I can't just tell him that I like him! It's not—it’s not that big of a deal. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything!” You… you weren't in love, were you…?

Sakura braced both hands on her hips. “You say it's not a big deal, but here we are,” she said with a vague gesture to your bedroom. “Honey,” she continued, but softer, “whether you're in love with him or you just like him more than a friend, it's something. It's different. Are you sure you never felt anything for him before? Not even unconsciously?”

“I mean—” you started, “—I might have. I probably have,” you corrected, cradling your chin in your palm. “I thought he was really cool when I met him last year, but I think that was just one of those silly crushes, y'know? Like the ones you get on people you pass by and know you probably won't meet again?”

She hummed and lowered herself onto the edge of your bed. “Yeah, I get that.”

You scooted your desk chair over to where she was and flopped face first over your bed with a groan. You felt her hand gently smooth down the back of your head. “I dunno, Kkura. Maybe I've always felt something different about him.”

“That could be it,” she said. “And you just didn't realize until it was in your face. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

If that wasn't the understatement of the century.

“Why are you so scared of telling him, Yn-ie? From everything I've seen and heard from you, it feels like he probably feels the same way.”

“I'm biased.”

Sakura exhaled. “Logic your way out of this one.”

“Okay, if I logic my way out of this one, I could still get rejected.”

You could feel her eyes roll, even with your face smooshed into the sheets. “I know the prospect of all this is scary, but it's meant to be. That means you care, Yn. That means you care about your friendship with Younghoon, and that's inherently a good thing.”

When you didn't say anything else in response, she added, “You know your feelings will intensify if you leave them unaddressed. Murphy's Law.”

You hated when she was right.

You didn't see Younghoon for at least another week. Once Halloween had gone and passed, November hit everyone in one big fell swoop. Midterms the Sequel was abound, and it did not choose mercy. But amongst the abundance of fires cropping up, you managed to spray some water on a couple to keep the flames tame. (Do not do this to real fires; it won't help.)

It was the middle of the week when you and Younghoon agreed to meet back at the convenience store to hang out. Over the past few days, you kept your interactions with him over text and call as normal as possible, even though you felt like your newly realized feelings were glaringly obvious. If Younghoon thought you were being awkward though, he didn't say.

You and Sakura were in the kitchen right before you were about to take off to head to the convenience store. She was busy making a late lunch (read: dinner); you were busy worrying about everything.

“I've got an idea,” she said, raising the spatula in her hand into the air. “You should bring Younghoon to the wedding.”

You nearly choked on air. “I'm sorry? Say that again.”

With her back turned to you, she gave an emphasized shrug. “If you insist. I was suggesting that you bring Younghoon to the wedding instead of me. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

“How in the world is that killing two birds with one stone?”

“Well, when you inevitably confess your feelings to him, and he confesses that he reciprocates, you will then have a date for the wedding.” She turned the stove off before twirling around on her slippered-heel, a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!”

“I just think that if—and big emphasis on if—we do end up together, a wedding would be a lot as an outing.” You imagined how horrific and intimidating that would be, meeting your entire family and extended family after only just deciding to try out dating someone. Even thinking about it sounded overwhelming beyond means, and you couldn't do that to Younghoon.

She angled her head to the side. “But this is Younghoon we're talking about. He literally went to the Space Gala with you on short notice and made you feel safe and comfortable the whole time.”

You sent her a pointed look. “That's not the same thing and you know it.”

She sighed. “Alright. Then what about driving over to meet you at the convenience store at midnight when he had an early rehearsal the next day? He calls you and texts you day and night; he drops by the tutoring center on your shifts to keep you company… I don't know what else you need to convince you.”

You didn't like the spark of hope she was lighting up in your chest. You didn't want to lose a good friend if you were reading him wrong. Was he not charismatic to everyone he met though?

At some point, you got your ass up and down the street. There was a soft tune playing in the background as you wandered through the aisles in search of something to distract you from the anxious racing of your heartbeat. Younghoon had sent you a heads up about an hour ago that he was going to be late because he was coming from an outing, so you had a little more time to mentally prepare. Maybe you would chalk up the courage to tell him. Maybe you really could do it. If you just ripped off the bandaid, whether it be for better or for worse, you could at least say you tried.

You made up your mind then, somewhere in the bread aisle between the wheat and rye.

By the time Younghoon arrived, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, you managed to hype yourself up to tell him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said between breaths as he claimed the seat across from you. He paused, sniffing, then grimacing. “And also for the fact that I reek of barbeque.”

“Don't worry about it,” you assured him, teasingly, “the only thing you should be sorry about is not inviting me.”

Younghoon laughed. “You're very right, as always. My friends and I were having an emergency meeting about Jacob and JC!Yn.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? Any updates?”

He groaned then, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Uh oh. “They almost kissed until Eric interrupted them.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” He wailed in agony, eyes screwed closed with imaginary tears running down his cheeks. “It was painful to hear but it was also painful watching those two idiots interact at the table. My friends and I, minus JC!Yn and Jacob—we met a little beforehand to talk about what went down when Eric interrupted, and the lovebirds just came in later.” Younghoon huffed a rough sigh from his lips, partnered with a shake of his head. Then he broke into a smile, the corners of the expression soft, as he looked at you from across the table. He rested his cheek against his hand, chin inclining toward you, “So what's going on with you, hm? I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages.”

“We did call on Tuesday,” you pointed out.

He wrinkled his nose with a frown and shrugged. “It's not the same. I missed you.”

Your heart was beating so loud that you could count them out—thump, thump, thump— “I—missed you, too,” you said in earnest. Tell him, Yn. Tell him.

“You know, I think it's funny how we lost touch for so long, but we eventually came back together,” he murmured as he absentmindedly traced out shapes along the table top. “I guess if it's meant to be, then it'll be.”

The way he worded it… you were spinning yourselves in circles in your head trying to define it, to crack it open and solve it like you could a word problem. If the rotator wheel spins at a velocity of—but at this point, you were certain that you could figure out one of those much faster than this. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

“Something on your mind, Yn?” He asked you then. His eyes returned to you and you were suddenly stuck. The earth stopped spinning for this single moment in time, all because of the way this man looked at you.

You swallowed. “I…” The words dissipated in your throat. You couldn't do it.

Younghoon waited patiently, though. He considered you and your wide eyes filled with something he didn't know how to label, and maybe a dash of another thing he hoped to find. “Why don't we take a walk?”

With no reason to refuse, you stood up from your seat with him. He smiled at you as he brushed his hand over your back to guide you to the door, then retracted it to tuck his hand into his pocket.

November had so far shown the city a brisk, deep autumn. The trees were already close to completely shedding their leaves for the oncoming winter, and they were often swept away by a cool draft. You zipped up your jacket as the two of you began walking in the direction opposite to your apartment. Whichever way the wind took you both, you supposed.

For the first time in a long time, you and Younghoon were quiet. You were trapped in your own head with the courage you had earlier having mysteriously disappeared. He seemed content enough to let you ponder on it and to speak whenever you were ready.

“My cousin is getting married,” you found yourself saying.

That didn't seem to be the thing he expected to come from your mouth. Surprise flashed across his features and he clambered for a response. “Oh, well, congratulations. When's the wedding?”

“Thanks.” You said, “It’s in December. I… you know I have a big family.”

“Right.” His gaze softened considerably. “I imagine it must be a lot for you then—a family event of that size.”

You realized that you didn't convey exactly what you wanted to get across, and yet, you were reminded again how much he cared. “Yeah,” you murmured. “My brother Justin isn't gonna be able to make it after we already RSVP'd under my immediate family of seven people, and so my mom and I are trying to find someone to fill that space. She wanted to invite this one guy—he was my next-door neighbor for some time. Not my favorite person in the world because he's kind of got it out for me,” you said next.

You were rounding the corner again to loop back down the street toward your apartment. The organ in your chest was flying against your ribcage now; there wasn't much time left to tell him. You could see the metaphorical sand in the glass draining.

“So you're not going to invite this guy then, right?”

You nodded. “And I offered up Sakura just to appease her for the time being, but Sakura's gonna be in Japan in December.”

Younghoon trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I see.”

“That's my… that's my dilemma.” No, that isn't your only dilemma, Yn! Tell him! But the apartment was coming up in view, and you would be at the entrance in just a few more minutes.

You and Younghoon slowed your pace as you rounded the block again to cross the street. When you glanced over at him, you swore you could see the conflict warring across his face. If he saw gears turn in your head, you could see a battle scene in his eyes.

“Is this all that's been bothering you?” He asked at last, and you didn't know what to do about the slight intonation in his voice, like he was hoping for something. “I'm not invalidating your stress or anything, I was just—you know, if you had anything else you needed to get off your chest—”

“No, it's just that.” You could practically hear Sakura clucking like a chicken from wherever she was. You quickly added as the apartment door came into view, “It's—it’s not a big deal—finding a plus one, I mean. I'll figure it out.”

Plus one. He'd been your plus one to the Space Gala, but this was different. This was so much more different than that.

But maybe your words sounded like a dismissal or he was thrown off today. He cupped the back of his neck with a small nod. “Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Hoon.”

He smiled then, the same soft-cornered one that reached his eyes, and that you'd come to be familiar with. You couldn't imagine seeing that face reject your feelings even if you knew he would probably let you down easily.

EPISODE TEN: YOU SPELL PARALLELISM WITH THREE L'S BECAUSE THERE ARE THREE LOSERS

THE engineering library at nine o'clock at night was a familiar environment for you, Chanhee, and Jungwoo. Dead week—the week before finals—meant that it saw the three of you twice as much, even on the weekend before Dead week began. It didn't mean you got studying done though. Sometimes you were just there.

“You guys are so fake! How could I not be updated on every single microevent in your lives?” Jungwoo cried, gesticulating his hands around far too fast for your brain to comprehend. He was about three shots of espresso and five hours in, if that explained things. You were all aware that your habits were not healthy, but no college kid was. “And you call me your friend?”

The thing that had triggered this reaction from Jungwoo had been Chanhee's fault. Or maybe that was your fault. Either way, the topic somehow had gone from calculating your respective grades with probable curves (calculating failure, at this rate) to you and Younghoon.

You liked to argue there was no you and Younghoon—it was just you-comma-Younghoon. Chanhee had sassed back at you with a swift, “Oh, so she's an English major now?” As if English majors were the only ones who could understand grammar and punctuation.

Jungwoo, having had no context given whatsoever, realized quickly that he was out of the loop. Now, you were here.

“I demand the tea!” He screeched, hitting the palm of his hand against the table. Thank god there was no one else here to listen in or shush you and your friends. If there was one thing about the engineering library, it was how out of the way it was from the main campus.

“I really don't think you should have anything else caffeinated—”

Jungwoo's head whipped toward you and his nostrils were flared. “You must think you're so funny,” he said with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile. You would have been scared had you not seen this man once blow a massive snot bubble all over his differential calculus homework. (If anyone found out about that, it most definitely didn’t come from your lips…)

Your eyes shuddered, an innocent smile coming to your lips. “I was just saying.”

“Shuuush!” He stopped, thought about it, then retracted. “Actually, don't shush. Tell me what you and Chanhee know, but I don't.”

Chanhee snorted from his side of the table. “That's a long list.”

Jungwoo cut a glare toward Chanhee. “I despise you both,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Chanhee said as he tucked his tablet stylus behind his ear. He cocked a high-arched brow your way. “What is going on, Yn? Do update us. Or for Jungwoo’s sake, start from the beginning.”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected Chanhee to turn on you, too, but perhaps you should have seen this coming. A generous amount of time had passed since you last failed to confess your feelings to one Kim Younghoon. Between that day and today, you had managed to finally submit your space grant application and passed your second round of midterms by the seat of your pants (hip, hip, hooray). Since that day, you and Younghoon would continue to interact as normal, except for the fact that you were practically walking on eggshells around him.

Just the other day, you both fell asleep while on-call with each other. When you’d woken up the morning afterward, you discovered that, one, it was a good thing you plugged your phone into its charging cord; and two, that Younghoon was just as pretty asleep as he was awake.

To this news, Chanhee merely fluttered his lengthy lashes, unimpressed. “And you’re telling me you don’t think he feels the same way?” He asked.

At some point, Jungwoo had broken out a half-eaten granola bar from his bag to munch on as a replacement for popcorn. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” he said, shoving the bite into his cheek so he could speak. “And Kim Younghoon, Yn? Wooooow, I see you girl. That guy was insane as Charles Bingley in freshman year.”

“You’re so right,” Chanhee chimed in with an indulgent nod, pointing his stylus at Jungwoo. “I don’t know if insane was the right word, but he encapsulated the Bingley gent essence quite nicely.”

“I never saw that one,” you confessed.

Jungwoo’s face scrunched up on one side. “Clearly. At least he knows that you’re not just in it for his celebrity status.”

You leaned back in your chair and dragged your hands down the length of your face with an embarrassed groan. Only your guy friends; Chanhee and Jungwoo, as expected, gave a light laugh at your expense. “I don't like you guys.”

“C’mon Yn-ie,” Chanhee teased and reached over to poke your arm with the butt of his stylus pen. When you peeked one eye out between your fingers, he puckered his lips at you like a penguin. “Love you.”

You reluctantly slid your hands down. “If I'm gonna be clowned for my feelings, I'd rather be in bed!” You declared, taking your phone from the pile at the center of the table to check the time. It was nearly ten o'clock at this rate. Ah, and had anything productive been done? Absolutely none. Perfectly on track for the three of you.

“Nooo, don't go, Yn! You're too sexy,” Jungwoo whined.

“I think you should tell Younghoon your feelings,” said Chanhee. He hiked his feet onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “You need to razz him up.”

You frowned. “I thought it was ‘rizz.’”

“You don't have rizz, though, so I thought razz would be the next best thing,” he said flippantly.

“Burn!” Jungwoo exclaimed with his hand cupped around his mouth, and you were suddenly reminded that he was in a frat.

You leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand with a dramatic sigh. “You're right; I do not have rizz.”

Chanhee's brows scrunched together in concern. “Oh my god, I thought you would fight back—of course, you have rizz, Yn! You snagged Kim Younghoon!”

Before you could tell him you’d given up on fighting back or before Jungwoo could give up on his sanity, Chanhee's phone buzzed from where it was sitting at the center of the table. You expected it to be Chanhee's friend, CH!Yn, since she was the most probable person texting at this hour; instead, Chanhee let out a delighted gasp, slapping his hand to his mouth at whatever notification he found waiting for him.

Both you and Jungwoo leapt to your feet and scrambled to peer over his shoulders. “What? Who is it?”

“It's JC!Yn,” he shrieked. “She's asking about flower shops.”

You and Jungwoo stayed perched over either of Chanhee's shoulders to see what would transpire. It was a brief exchange within the group chat of three people that included JC!Yn, Changmin, and Chanhee. Chanhee somehow knew about a flower shop in the university district that was open until eleven o'clock. After all your years of attending this school, you had no idea it even existed.

But once JC!Yn was off on her way, Chanhee turned his phone off with a prediction that he would not be hearing from her until at least tomorrow morning. “Looks like someone's getting confessed to tonight,” he snickered to himself.

Jungwoo was back in his original seat—a generous wording, since he leaned a good eighty percent of his body over the table with his knees braced on the chair, legs kicking up behind him. “You know what you should do, Yn? You should sweep Younghoon off his feet just like that. I'm sure he adores receiving flowers.”

“Would it not be as special though if he gets flowers after every show?” You asked genuinely, pressing the butt of your pen between your lips. “I'm not against getting him flowers.” Flowers would be a good idea… you'd seen plenty of movies that had romanticized the idea of giving and receiving flowers in your mind, and it would be an obvious gesture. At the very least, you could pull a Younghoon and tell him the flowers reminded you of him because they were gorgeous—or something to that effect. Maybe you really didn't have rizz…

Jungwoo shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I'm sure it would be special coming from you. I dunno. It's just something to think about.”

“So,” Juyeon drawled with his head lolling over the back of the couch to look over at Younghoon, “now that Jacob's situation is solved, what about you?”

Younghoon glanced up from his phone. “What about me?”

There were five of them holed up in Sangyeon's apartment presently, and four of them had invaded the eldest friend's abode to hoard his TV and play Super Smash Brothers. He was the only one with a working TV and decent WiFi to game on that wasn't Jacob and Kevin's apartment. Only, a couple hours in, Juyeon received a text message from Eric with a live update that JC!Yn was going to confess to Jacob.

Eric had ended his update with an ominous: Tell Kevin hyung he shouldn't go home tonight 🤣. That definitely livened up the place.

Kevin sat up from where he had been lying on the floor. “Oh, yo, you're so right. What's going on with you and Yn?”

Younghoon's eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Don't give us that bullshit,” Hyunjae clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Didn't you say that you liked her?” He teased with a glint in his eyes as he wiggled his fingers Younghoon's way.

The man at the heart of the interrogation rolled his eyes and smacked Hyunjae's hand away. “I will not object to having said that I liked her, if that's what you're getting at.” Frankly, he would own up to having admitted that was how he felt about you. So what, he liked you? He wasn't embarrassed by it. The only problem was living with this knowledge and not telling you.

Sangyeon came over from the kitchen to lean against the back of the couch. He had a drink in hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Do you have a plan or are you gonna pull a Jacob and be a chicken?”

Kevin arched a high brow. “Only I can call Cobie a chicken, thank you very much.” He turned on Younghoon next with an accusing finger. “And you—I can't even go home right now, so let's get down to business.”

Younghoon blinked. “What business—”

“Order in the court!” Juyeon interjected. He grinned like a bunny. “Sorry, I know I have to wait until I'm a lawyer first, but it's just so fun to say.”

Sangyeon sputtered a laugh against the rim of his drink, blindly patting Juyeon on the head. “It's cool, man. Very appropriate timing.”

“We should play Marvin Gaye,” said Hyunjae. “It'll get us in the mood to tell Younghoon how to properly woo somebody.”

Younghoon swore his face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. This was in no way how he thought his evening would go. And to be honest, he never ever expected having this conversation with his friends, ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his feelings all the more forward in his mind, and he was already having trouble whenever he was around you, and all you did was remind him of all the reasons why he wanted to be with you.

The thing was that he couldn't tell if you reciprocated his feelings. Sure, he could flirt and insert himself into your life all he wanted. But you could just be playing nice!

…actually, you probably were just playing nice. Dear god, he was back at square one.

He simply didn't want to lose your friendship, at the very least. Even if you didn't want to be with him in that way, he would pull up his big boy pants and be a friend to you instead. Then he wouldn't have to live without seeing you smile or listening to you work out problems aloud while he did mundane things in the background—

“And we lost him.”

Younghoon cleared his throat, raising a hand up to scratch his jawline. “You did not lose me,” he protested. The amount of attention on him right now was uncanny. Of course, he could go up onstage and be a character—but reality was different. He couldn't put on a mask or another personality; these people knew him… wasn't that scary? And yet, somehow freeing, at the same time.

Kevin inclined his chin to him with a little smirk. “You did have hearts in your eyes, my dude.”

“Aww, he's in love,” Sangyeon gushed while standing up to go refill his drink.

“I'm not in love!” He said with his index finger pointed at the sky. (He was in love. Of course, he knew he was in love. Because when all he did for the past three months of his life besides school was be around you and think about you and you you you… how could he not? Younghoon could fake any emotion in the world in front of an audience of people, but your eyes alone would devastate him.)

The entire apartment, sans Younghoon, chorused altogether now, “Yes, you are.”

Younghoon balked, rocketing upright. “There is no way all of you agreed on something for the first time and it was this.”

Hyunjae patted his friend's thigh from his position on the floor. “Believe it, Lover Boy. So what're you gonna do about it?”

“I wouldn't even know how to tell her,” Younghoon huffed, leaning back against the couch cushion with his arms crossed over his chest in thought.

That day when you'd told him about the wedding, he had been so hopeful that you were going to say something about feelings. He was so certain that he read you right, but you said nothing else afterward. He would totally go to that wedding with you, though; he just figured you might not want him to go, considering you'd dismissed it so quickly afterward.

Sangyeon came back to the couch and perched himself onto the arm of the sectional next to Juyeon. “It doesn't have to be fancy—you just need to be clear and straightforward.”

“Flowers could soften the blow,” suggested Juyeon.

Kevin chuckled. “For him or for Yn?”

Younghoon clicked his tongue at him with a playful scowl. “Quiet, you. But thanks, guys. I guess I just want to do this right. I don't wanna ruin what we already have.”

Juyeon pursed his lips and reached over to clasp his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You won't, man. I guarantee you that.”

“So if I get my heart broken, I can sue you for false advertisement?” Younghoon asked with his lips stretched in a grin, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Pssh,” Juyeon laughed, “try me.”

EPISODE ELEVEN: THE USUAL TIME & PLACE

IT was a frightening sequence of events when you texted Younghoon and he texted you at the same time. The Monday after Chanhee and Jungwoo had hyped you up to confess, you went around different items of furniture in your apartment with your phone in hand, pencil behind your ear, trying to work up the courage again to send the text.

And you did… eventually.

The usual time and place was decided upon, and it had snuck up on you as the day went on. You tied your shoes on and slipped out the door, making sure to pat your pocket down for where you had tucked your secret weapon for the night. As soon as you and Younghoon had confirmed a meeting for today, you ran to your (favorite) grad student, Seulgi, and asked very nicely for her set of keys into the planetarium, promising to treat her to brunch if she did.

The walk over to the convenience store was a jitter-filled one. Your stomach was doing cartwheels alongside the flips your heart performed in your chest. There was still activity on the streets, even at nine o’clock on a Dead week evening. You jumbled through the routine you had in mind over and over, a broken record of hopes and wants. The plan was to take a walk to the planetarium and use said walk to work up the courage to tell him. If anything went wrong, then you could cover it up with a cool presentation of stars overhead.

This isn’t lame, is it? You thought to yourself as you let yourself into the store. You were so in your head, you nearly didn’t notice that Younghoon was standing right in front of you, having just walked out of one of the aisles. You startled, breath hitching in your throat.

He smiled, the expression soft. “Hey,” he said to you and had to clear his throat, a hand brushing through his hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“All good; guess my head was just somewhere else,” you laughed nervously. You gripped the key in your pocket until you were sure your skin would smell like metal by the time you got to the planetarium. The two of you had met and hung out here a bundle of times before this, but this time in particular was different. The energy shifted in a way you couldn’t foretell if it was good or bad. For your sake, you hoped it was the former.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and took a step toward you.

You inhaled, nodding. “I do,” you said. “I—actually, uhm, do you want to go to the planetarium with me?” From your pocket, you withdrew the keys Seulgi gave you and wiggled them around by the keyring. “I bribed one of my seniors for the keys.”

Younghoon brightened, a laugh falling out of his mouth, and now he was standing right next to you. “Oh my god, you evil genius… my beloved mastermind, are we about to break some rules?” He teasingly bumped your arm with his, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

“Only if you’ll break them with me,” you beamed and reached for the door to the front door.

“But of course,” he played along with a giddiness shining through his expression. “Anything with you. Though, I’d like to stop somewhere on the way first.”

Without even visiting your table in the back of the shop, you and Younghoon took off into the night together. You couldn’t imagine where Younghoon wanted to stop by on the way, but you thought it was probably to run an errand of sorts. But for the moment, it was at the back of your mind as you tried to keep this as normal as possible. “Different” was so intimidating—you wanted to sink into the comfort that was whatever you and Younghoon had.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into that normalcy, though. He always made it so easy.

“—and they did so well, Yn-ah. You need to come back and see them in person; they’re always asking me where you are,” he told you with an invigorated passion. He gave a feigned sniffle. “Pretty sure they like you more than me.”

You shook your head, laughing, “You’re so dramatic. They love you, Hoon. I mean, I can’t even believe that they would remember me after having met them only once!”

“Well,” he drawled, glancing away for a spell, “that might be my doing.” He confessed sheepishly, “I do talk about you a lot—but hey! You can’t blame me! I like talking about subjects that mean a lot to me.”

Your heart made a full stop in your chest, and you nearly physically halted in the middle of the walkway. The gears in your head could barely process what he had just said without going into a spiral. It was a reminder of what this night was originally about. You sputtered out a reply, “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“I try,” he jested.

“I do finish all my finals next week by Tuesday,” you told him. “I can totally come by that Wednesday and Friday for a little wing fitting. When’d you say the show was?”

He squinted one of his eyes in thought. “Err… it should be the Friday night after next, but if you do come through with those props, that should still give them enough time to get used to them before the performance.”

You nodded, mentally mapping out your schedule. Once your finals were through, you would have plenty of time to tinker with the props and have some proper fun after such a long quarter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I appreciate it a lot, Yn,” he said, ducking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “thank you in advance. I call you a workaholic, but here I am encouraging it.”

You chuckled. “It’s no trouble, Younghoon. Seriously. I like doing crafty things, and it’ll be a nice project. I promise.” To the end of that, you stressed further, “And if you think about it like you’re encouraging my hobbies and passions, then it feels a lot less like work.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” His head perked up when his eyes caught onto something in the near distance. His fingers unconsciously caught onto your wrist. “Here it is.”

Wherever you expected to find yourself, it was not a flower shop. There was no shop name or title anywhere that you could see, just the sketched posters and advertisements in the windows of chrysanthemums and hydrangeas. Troughs of vivid blooms lined the front windows like testaments to the plants one might expect to find within. Hanging planters dangled from the overhang, vines and foliage spilling over in an elegant mess.

There was one other sign posted in the window of the door that read its opening hours from 8am to 11pm.

Younghoon's cheekbones seemed to flush in the light streaming out from the inside of the shop. “Shall we?” He asked shyly and grabbed the door handle to open it for you.

You stepped inside before him with the door closing behind the two of you softly. You weren't sure where to go first—the room was constructed with two long tables in the center to hold smaller planters, then the perimeter was covered nearly from floor to ceiling with the larger plants, as well as the hanging garden pots like the ones outside hung from the ceilings by the lights.

There was someone to the right side of the room with a large, green watering can in hand. She glanced up when she heard the two of you come in. “Hi! How can I help you two?” She asked, reaching up to take out one of the earbuds she had in.

Younghoon placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, not at all. Help yourselves; if you need anything, don't hesitate to holler.”

He smiled, “Sounds good, thank you!”

Did he know what he was here for? You followed him toward the leftmost table, unsure of where to wander yourself since there was so much stimuli. He stopped at one of the pots and you stood beside him. Leaning closer, you whispered, “I don't really know what we're looking at.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, but then he pulled out a planter tag at the front of the pot he was examining. “But these might help.”

“You're probably right,” you mused, patting him on the arm.

“Look, these are carnations.” He scooted over to the next one over. There were an array of different colors of them, ranging from white to the deepest red. He placed a finger against his lips, then pointed at the white ones. “Those mean innocence, and those—” these were directed toward the blush pink ones, “—something along the lines of 'I'll never forget you.’”

You still stood close to him, and you reached over to gently warm the velvety petals between your fingertips. “I hope it's okay to touch them,” you suddenly said, swiftly retracing your fingers and peering over your shoulder at the worker.

“I'm sure it's okay,” he chuckled. He pointed out a buttery yellow set of petals a few pots down. “Aren't these gorgeous?” He breathed in awe.

When you arrived at the petal of choice, you raised the tag to see its name—daffodils. They were beautiful indeed, with pristine petals and tall stems, the color of them a rich yellow as if it had been painted rather than grown.

“What do these mean?” You asked.

“Unrivaled love? I think,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head.

You considered him for a moment with lips parted. “You're incredible, you know that? How do you know all this?”

His smile sweetened into something that made your chest feel warm. “You say that as if you're not the incredible one. But, Google. Don't look at my search history,” he muttered sheepishly.

It made you smile anyway.

You turned your head to scan the rows upon rows of diversity in one room. You were never quite the foliage fiend, but you could appreciate nature's beauty as much as nature's laws. Even if you might never be able to grow flowers of your own (because trust that you'd tried), as long as these places still existed, you could still admire and appreciate them.

Your eyes snagged onto a bundle of tulips at the front of the shop and you wandered over to take a look. Younghoon trailed after you to see what you wanted to look at, and stopped with you to admire the tulips. Their buds were near perfect, and they varied in so many colors—all soft purples, reds, yellows, pinks.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow,” he agreed. He caressed the outside petals of one of the bulbs, then took the individual flower by the stem. He took yet another in his opposite hand and faced you. “What did the tulip say to the other tulip?”

You blinked. “Do indulge me.”

“We should put our tulips together and kiss,” he answered, and he pressed his own lips together in a barely contained smile.

You covered your mouth with one hand, a smile of your own blossoming under your palm. “I don't know about that one…”

“I don't be-leaf you when you say you're not a fan of that one.”

At this point, you could feel your face heat up and you could no longer hide your smile. “You're incorrigible.”

“It made you smile,” he quipped back with a smirk. He placed the tulips in his hands gently back into their pot, then swiveled on the balls of his feet. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” you agreed.

“Like you.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, but he already had his back turned to you as he surveyed the shop for the person who was on shift. Yet, you still spied the bit of red creeping up the back of his neck, and found yourself content.

“Hi, excuse me!” He caught the worker's attention. “Could we get just a little bundle of these tulips, please? Thank you so much.”

Your eyes widened and you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Younghoon, what're you—”

He had a satisfied smile on his face. “Getting you flowers.”

“You don't need to get me flowers.”

“I’d like to,” he said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

Less than ten minutes later, you and Younghoon were back out on the sidewalk with a new addition to the group. You cradled a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of your arm. The girl working there tonight had told you that being open so late caught a lot of last minute gift-givers as she wrapped your flowers in a tan colored butcher paper. She seemed to be an expert at tying ribbon bows that were just as beautiful as the flowers she tended, too.

You were already spinning far from your original intentions. You hadn't accounted for Younghoon making this gesture, and you wondered if he planned something for tonight.

Your counterpart suddenly cleared his throat while the two of you resumed your journey to the planetarium. You were only a few minutes away from the planetarium now. “I know I asked earlier if there was something you wanted to talk about,” he said, “but there is something I wanted to also talk about.”

Your heart fumbled over itself. “Uhm, yeah—yes, what's on your mind?”

From where you were on the street, you could see the broad dome of your target building just across the street. There was a rapid leap in your heart rate as he faced you beneath the street light shining over your heads like some kind of strangely timed, solo spotlight. The crosswalk turned green, but you stayed rooted to your place.

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this,” he began. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. You could only imagine how long he spent training himself to hold a poker face, but it was the liminal spaces where you could see right through him. “I like you a lot, Yn. It's—it’s an overwhelming amount, what I feel about you.”

You peered over at him wordlessly and hung onto every syllable coming from his mouth.

He wrung his hands out; this perhaps wasn't a script he was prepared for. But who ever came prepared for something like this? “And I think it's pretty obvious what I was hoping for tonight to be like from the flowers and all, and I was hoping that I was being just as obvious with how I felt about you, and… I don't know. I just… I had to tell you.” His lips pressed together so that the small divot in the side of his cheek appeared.

You didn't know how to describe the wave of emotion that washed over you. There was the rapid heart beat thundering in your ears, the tingle of relief in your shoulders, the happiness taking flight in your stomach.

“I have to be honest, I—I feel the exact same way you do.” You ducked your head, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “And I didn't know how to tell you either because I was really scared.” Your voice tripped, and you picked yourself back up. He waited for you, as always, patiently letting you say your piece. “I didn't want to lose you as a friend, at the very least, because you've come to mean so much to me over these past few months.”

Younghoon's smile widened and the amber color from the streetlight above haloed around his head for one dizzying second. “I didn't want to lose you either. I'm literally head over heels for you; you're every… you're everything.”

You didn't know how else to express your feelings through words, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, the flowers coming around his back to avoid being crushed. “Not good at words, sorry,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

You could feel the vibrations of his warm chuckle as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against the side of your head. Message received.

Not everything went to plan, and it was important to exercise flexibility in such times. You still snuck (broke) into the planetarium with Younghoon, hand-in-hand, but all feelings were already known and laid sprawled on the table.

There was a center platform in the main showcase hall that was carpeted in a layer of fake grass that you and Younghoon gladly lounged upon to watch the universe. The image projected above your heads now of faraway solar systems and galaxies was unfortunately not real—they were produced by a specific software rather than the lens of a telescope. It was breathtaking, nonetheless.

You laid with your back against the fake grass next to Younghoon, your arms pressed against one another. The light projecting onto the dome above filtered down and painted you both in colors of stars and dark matter, all of those swirls of oranges and purples and blues and white.

“There is one thing that's still on my mind.”

He hummed. “What's that?”

“I was wondering—and you can totally say no—but the wedding…” You glanced over at him, and you wondered if he could understand what you were probing at. “I was wondering if you'd be comfortable going as my plus one. It's just the reception, but I understand if it's a lot.”

He smiled at you, big and bright, “I'd love to go as your plus one.”

Relief and joy fluttered in your chest now. It was a miracle your heart didn't grow wings and fly out then. “Thank you, really.”

His fingers inched over yours until they intertwined as a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He always knew somehow.

In the silence, you returned your gaze up to the night sky. It was crazy how vast the universe was and how small you were in relation to it. When put into perspective, your problems here on Earth were so much smaller than the world—and yet, they were still important.

“When I was a kid,” you started to say, and heard a small sound from your right as he looked back over at you, “I wanted to touch the stars.” You turned your head to look back at him.

His lip quirked upward fondly. “Something of yours will touch the stars one day.”

“I hope so,” you mused back. That was the dream.

His eyes dropped down to your mouth now, and everything quieted, as if you were in a vacuum with only the two of you. In this reality, no one and nothing else existed.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned toward you and pressed his lips against yours. His body rolled half over yours, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness you were certain to become addicted to. It was your chest against his, your nose slotting beside his, your cheek beneath his thumb. His lips were a perfect marriage of pressure and softness at once.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. “I think I just touched a star,” he murmured.

The breath in your throat hitched. “You're too good with words, Kim Younghoon.”

His eyes crinkled. “We can do something more your speed and study the space between us instead.”

You had to turn away to laugh, the sound of his own joining yours.

“Hey, it's a yes or no question,” he giggled, turning your chin back toward him. He bit his lip through a grin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You would be a fool to refuse him. In an instant, he lowered his lips over yours again, enveloped you in his embrace. And with every moment passed, you sank further and further into him. Maybe the universe was uncharted and alluring, but the universe could wait.

You had all the world right here.

a/n: tumblr fcking hates me and my dialogue, confirmed. anyways, pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! for now, i'll see u in hot commodity!

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @sunramzi @deobi0412 @kflixnet

[alexandra-scribbles]

So I was listening to Taylor Swift as one does when the song Castles Crumbling came on and I think that once I said that it was a Maedhros coded song… and I was very wrong. Upon listening to it several times in a row I’ve realized that song is entirely about Feanor (if he were to get a 150k words redemption arc in a fully developed fic and not my scrambled thoughts)

Like, lets dissect the song

First verse:

Once, I had an empire in a golden age

I was held up so high, I used to be great

They used to cheer when they saw my face

Now, I fear I have fallen from grace

Like, Feanor was born at the height of Aman, peaceful tree light bathed paradise where nothing went wrong and was actually the beloved prince of his people, referred to as the greatest of the elves and he basically free fell from grace without a parachute.

The chorus:

And I feel like my castle's crumbling down

And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground

And you don't want to know me

I will just let you down

You don't wanna know me now

I am pretty sure that Formenos was destroyed by Morgoth and that was a physical castle crumbling but like, Feanor’s metaphorical castle crumbled too. And he did burn all of his bridges, with his half-siblings, the vanyar, the teleri, the valar, the mayority of the Noldor. My main man was burning everything in his path including his son sorry Telvo so we can asume that he also let a lot of people down in his path.

The second verse:

Once, I was the great hope for a dynasty

Crowds would hang on my words, and they trusted me

Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far

I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart

Power went to my head, and I couldn't stop

Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off

And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret

Falling down like promises that I never kept

This kills me, because he was supposed to be the guiding light of the Noldor, the flame imperishable come alive, and it is also known that Feanor was a great orator and could command crowds and that people followed him out of devotion and like he pushed it was past too far with the Kinslaying.

The grudge part, we all know who it would refer to. He disliked and mistrusted his half siblings so much that it was one of the main causes of his defeat. He thought that with his host and his anger he’d be able to destroy Morgoth and get back his Silmarils.

And he certainly ran his siblings off (and Maedhros too to a degree) when they tried to help and he ended up alone somewhere in Mandos never to be able to return to the world.

He also broke his promise to Nolofinwe so…

The bridge:

My foes and friends watch my reign end

I don't know how it could've ended this way

Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor

People look at me like I'm a monster

Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name

Now they're screaming that they hate me

Never wanted you to hate me

The first line speaks for itself, everyone who was there watched how Feanor died and im sure even he was surprised by it.

Then the line that screams Feanor… who’s ships are burning? People being horrified by the ships burning? That checks out.

People that once used to if not love, respect Feanor, now openly hating him and scorning everything to do with him….

… and perhaps, if Arda hadn’t been marred as it was… perhaps no one would have hated him.

So… yeah, thats about it. If you’ve read this far, thank you. Now please go listen to the song and think about our favorite extra crispy Noldor king.

[fromevertonow]

Song Analysis “The Hanging Tree”

Are you, are you / Coming to the tree / Where they strung up a man / They say he murdered three

Lucy Gray wrote this song which leads me to believe it can partly be read in light of Snow. The last line references Snow’s three murders—Bobbin, Mayfair, and Sejanus. This can be interpreted in a slightly different way after his whacky ass lie in the forest to Lucy Gray where he tells her that the third person was his “old self.” “Where they strung up a man” in this sense can be referring to Snow being ‘hung’ figuratively, “killing his old self” when he betrayed Sejanus. Additionally, to ignore the actual characters from TBOSAS, the final line technically ends on a question mark, creating a sense of ambiguity around his allegations (see next paragraph).

Strange things did happen here / No stranger would it be / If we met up at midnight / In the hanging tree

The public executions are “strange,” especially since the reasons the Capitol gives to justify why these people are hung are almost always based on vague allegations (continuing on the question mark from the final line from the previous paragraph). They could be rounded up for literally everything, so it wouldn’t be any stranger if they too, meaning the narrator and recipient of the song, would meet at the hour of death (“at midnight”), hung “in the hanging tree.”

Are you … the tree / Where the dead man called out / For his love to flee

In TBOSAS, the first time we see the hanging tree is when a man is awaiting his execution and a woman (“his love”) yells from the crowd that he’s innocent. “Run, Jill,” he calls back (“to flee”) before the plank is removed from under his feet. The Jabberjays in the tree repeat his final cry as his dead body hangs there.

Are you … the tree / Where I told you to run / So we’d both be free

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus agree to flee from the Districts and the eye of the Capitol. She tells him to meet her at the hanging tree at dawn, so they “[would] both be free” from the Capitol’s violence and corruption. To make it fit more with the morbid feeling of the song, you could also interpret it as the tree being the place where they would both be free together in death.

Are you … the tree / Wear a necklace of rope / Side by side with me

Together, at last, they are together (“side by side with me”) in death (“necklace of rope”) for eternity.

[shouldyouwakethewriteblr]

What made you choose the tag for each of your OCS? What specifically about that lyric made you feel like making it their tag?

Thank you for the neat question! 😊 Many of the tags are honestly at-risk of being changed, but all still hold messages, so I don't mind sharing. :)

'long way down to the bottom of the river' (sally)

Sally's tag is from 'Bottom Of The River' by Delta Rae. The tag itself is pretty self-explanatory with the river being a significant part of her storyline. I also associate her heavily with a lot of blues music, for some reason.

'losing grip of what I thought I knew' (martha)

Martha's tag is from 'Who Am I' by Besomorph. I chose the line to allude to Martha's ongoing identity crisis, as well as her need for certainty being turned on its head. I associate the song with Martha's relationship with both her mother and 'God'.

'are these vultures overhead?' (sylvester)

Sylvester's tag song is one of my favourites. It is 'Circle Nine' by Galt Aureus. The song itself symbolizes Sylvester's eventual fate and rescue. The tag itself references vultures (being the symbol of his mother's gang.) To me, this gives the image of Sylvester hallucinating his family and friends all around him.

'baby lion lost his teeth' (john-ira)

John-Ira's tag song is from Your Bones by Of Monsters and Men. The song, to me, gives thoughts of John-Ira trying to keep his loved ones together in the thick of it all. The tag itself, to me, symbolizes his goodness being taken advantage of.

'try a little topsy-turvy' (prudence)

Prudence's current tag is pretty new. It's from 'Upside Down' by Paloma Faith. I love this song for her, as it brings to mind Prudence defending her own unseriousness and identity, the tag itself being a lyric that felt especially playful.

'delicate in every way but one' (annie)

Annie's tag is one of the few I'd like to change eventually, but it's still relevant. It's from Lorde's song Glory And Gore, which I imagine as her justifying the company she keeps. The tag itself is as simple as 'I am not all that I seem'

'I belong to here' (rosfridur)

Rosfridur's tag is from Play Dead by Björk. I love the song for her for its otherworldly feel (the accent doesn't hurt either) and I associate the song (particularly the lyric in the tag) with her accepting and almost being resigned to her relationship with the red.

'i've taken a week to feel free' (bill)

Bill's tag I desperately want to change, but haven't come up with anything, yet. His tag is from Empty by Letdown. and is meant to represent how quickly he altered his entire life out of desperation. I still like the song for him, but I'd like something harder-hitting in the future.

'melodies and trees hang by my side' (amos)

Amos' tag is from 'No Place In Mind' by Justin Nozuka (an insanely fitting song for him.) The tag symbolizes his finding purpose and almost companionship in music and travel, and how he doesn't seem to need much else.

'every little hour that I spend' (orie)

Orie's tag is, funny enough, 'Make It Work' from the movie 'Jingle Jangle.' Forest Whittaker's character in the movie reminded me a lot of Orie and so I thought I'd nab one of his lyrics from the film to reflect that.

'when does the reason become the blame?' (simeon)

Simeon's tag comes from 'Just A Man' by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. The song was suggested to me and I almost threw up, haha. The tag was only really chosen because it was a short enough line, but the whole thing is very on-par with his storyline. Gets me emotional thinking about how Simeon was just a teenage boy who'd lost his remaining family when the Fossers began-- and how all he'd wanted was a safe place to build a new family, but had to be the one to create that place through ugly means.

'cause she's just like the weather' (flossie)

Flossie's tag could also do with a change. The song is 'Landscape' by Florence + The Machine, and I chose the tag because I loved the song for her, but couldn't find a short enough lyric that really stuck. The following lyric is 'can't hold her together,' which makes the whole thing make more sense. The whole song is, to me, symbolic of her emotional frailty.

[hunting-songs]

Kurapika's hazel eyes seemed to glow a warm, intense orange, compared to the cold light reflected by the moon at night. The sky was full of stars, Kurapika was grateful that it wasn't cloudy that night. He sat on the grass and leaned his back against the trunk of a tree, while he let Senritsu lean against his chest. A warm blanket covered them both as they gazed at the night sky. "Tell me a story, please"

Send "tell me a story" for my muse (receiver) to tell your muse (sender) a bedtime story. Alternatively send "once upon a time..." for your muse (sender) to tell my muse (receiver) a bedtime story.

Kurapikas heartbeat in her back and his calm breathing in her ears were a lullaby that had wrapped around her senses like a soporific, lulling her in, making her drowsy, making her head sink against the mans shoulder and almost fall asleep. It was the others request that made the woman blink awake again, yawning and stretching her arms like a cat just woken up from a nap: "...Mhmmm, a story?" "Have I ever told you the fairytale about Pape Döne that my father got his nickname from?" Have I ever told you the story my father was named after that fit him so well that it predicted the end of his life for him? Senritsu did not said it,would never say it, could never say it but the line was uncomfortable loud in her mind. She just shaked her head with a quiet laughter, even if the laughter was more rueful. Senritsu had never asked her father for his actual name, he had always been just 'Papa' and for everyone else he had been 'Papa Döne' or just 'Döne' as Senritsu and her siblings were also just 'Dönes' when they were not referred to by their first names. Senritsu had never asked her father for his actual name and now he was hanged. Senritsu had never asked her father for his actual name and now he was dead since she had been twelve. "Its not a nice tale. But considering its night and dark,a not so nice, spooky story would fit well, woulnd´t it?" She laughed quietly and as melodically as a song. Her small hand had caught one of Kurapikas hand that had rested under the blanket on her thigh and she played with it gently- tickling his fingertips, bending his fingers, gently teasing the senstive skin on the inside of his wrist with her fingertips: " My father married into the group and got along with them so well that he was nicknamed after one of their tales, but its still not a nice tale. The people I grew up with are not especially mhmmmmm... altieramente." They were thiefs, poachers, robbers, parias, graverrobbers, outlaws and eventually whenever they could not take the bones they needed to build the instruments their bodypart-collectors benefactors hired them to build or someone threatened them, also murderers out of pragmatism. Survival was after all not about beeing altieramente and the people between which Senritsu had beenborn and grew up with had found their niche to survive and thrife in and Senritsu as a Hunter working for the Mafia would not even think about judging any of them. Especially not when she saw everytime Kurapika seeked out another bodypart-collector at least one of the instruments one of her relatives had build on comission in the collectors collection. Especially not when she had used her groups connection to the body-part-collectors to find her way into the community, make a name for herself a reputation in it, to be eventually hired into the Nostrade-family. Especially not when she had build the boneflute in the instrument-case herself with the skills her family had teached her. But Kurapika was not thinking this way so all the woman did was gifting him with a rueful smile as she carefully squeezed his bigger hand in her smaller ones, so carefully as like he was made of glass. Her voice was gentle and kind, as if she was explaining a very complicatd puzzle to a student: "Pape Döne was a robber with inhuman, unmeasurable strenght that he had earned through a pact with a Devil. Disguised as a begger he wandered around, attacked other Travlers, overpowered even the strongest man and brought them con forza along with all their belongings to his secret hideout in the forest."

It had started to get cold, the evenings icyness was nipping on her feet and automatically Senritsu pulled her knees closer to herself, nestling deeper into the warm sanctuary under the blankets against Kurapikas chest as if she was fleeing. "There he beheaded his victims, skinned their skulls, dried them and hung the craniums between the threes around his hideout on a thread. After this he would hit the craniums with his wanderstaff and notice with his keen ears that every skull would give away another tune. As every person had their own personality so played their skulls another tune. Pape Döne than figured that that as why there were so many people living together disperato, fighting and quarreling as the tunes their skulls would sing were not harmonically and discordantly. From this instrument he had span between the trees the Robber had been given the name "Döne". It means Tunes or melody." She craned her neck, looking up to the other with a amused smile curling around her stark fronteeth and she gently pinched the back of Kurpikas hand jokingly scolding: "Mhmmm, yes you are allowed to make a joke now. Me beeing given the patronym after my fathers nickname makes it possible to translate my full name to Melody Tunes, it is very much a burlescamente name combination. I am used to jokes."

"Whenever this musically inclined man, the inventor of the skull-theory, would play music on the chimebells he would also pull the threads and let the skulls dance. To this he would sing con umore a mocking dancing-song. He was a cruel man and con gioco enjoyed this." There was a melody dancing behind the young womans words, the same melody of the little song her father would sing for her whenever he would tell this part of the tale: 'So danzet, danzet,min levesten Söne, Dat Danzen, dat maket ju Vater Pape Döne'.

"One day the devil wanted to finally take Dönes soul to a place where there would neither be songs or dances. Pape Döne however pauroso refused and promised the Devil seven innocent souls instead of his corrupted, dirty one, if the devil would give him some time to collect those souls. And the devil as stupid and greedy as he was, agreed to Dönes offer. However as soon as the Devil had walked away Döne hasted to Lübeck, looked for a monk to confess all his sins and crimes to, and asked him to please protect him from the devil. The monk promised Döne to protect him from the devil, but only if Döne would confess all his crimes to the court of justice and give himself over to the law to be properly punished for his crimes. Pape Döne was not especially happy over those conditions, but mhmmmm.... pateticamente he agreed." The last sentences made Senritsu chuckle a little- of course Pape Döne had agreed. He was not a brave figure. "So when the Devil came to collect the seven souls Döne had promsied him, the same Döne had become a nobilmente monk and the devil could not take him. However at the next day the Devil lay in waiting, as at this day Pape Döne was suppose to be hanged to be punished for the cirmes he had after all confessed to and the devil planned to catch the robbers soul as soon as it would leave the body. How angoscioso was that devil, when at the moment of the hanged mans death he still could not take him as after all Pape Döne had confessed all his sins and as sinless as he was now his soul could not be taken. " Looking up with a sly wink the woman just laughed quietly, shaking her ruefully head over the brutalness of the story. Not ashamed, never ashamed, but ruefully: "That was the story how a musically inclined, sly robber tricked the Devil and saved his soul. And one of the stories I grew up with, among other stories just as similar. It might explains a lot about how I turned out to be such a danger-loving, strange hunter working for the Mafia, mhmmmmmm? Did i spookedyou yet fitting for the cold, spooky night?" Her chuckle danced through the dark night like a singsang and carefully, so carefully the woman took Kurapikas hand she had been holding and breathed a small kiss on his knuckles before she winked up to him teasingly: "You know, you have still a chance to run away from the terrible person with terrible stories that is me, just giving you a fair warning. With your long legs, I am pretty sure I can not catch up to you." Kurapikas eyes looked especially beautiful in the pale moonlight and Senritsu wanted to look at them a little longer, so Laughing in all good humor she tangled their fingers, gently squeezing his hand in her smaller ones: "Mhmmm, chance is gone now. Disperato, poor you." [ @skarletchains ]

[mx-misty-eyed]

Christmas Saves the Year MV

These are our observations and theories for the Christmas Saves the year MV

 The video starts off with a quick overview of the area, we noticed it looks very similar to the area in the livestream version of shy away and the background of the saturday mv.

there was also this in an email from the website

Do they mean dema by “not too far from here”? like, are they saying dema isn’t too far?

A couple seconds later in the video we get to see the house, one of the first things it shows is this on the wall

Its the skeleton and alien symbols with the SAI symbol in the middle

we also see it later in the video

next it shows this paper 

there is a drawing of the star that says energy beacon (star below)

theres a drawing of what I think is an ornament and next to it, it says orb emitters, on the other side it says silver and gold, most likely referreing to the ornament colors (ornaments below)

and under the orb emitters line there is a drawing of the lights with words next it that say snow glow pearls (lights below)

and under that it says “?=adhesive attachments(?)”. On the left side of the paper underneath the silver and gold note there is a drawing of a “pearl” (christmas light) and there is a sentence under that which reads “orb emitters protect ??? through radiant cosmic rays”. And in the main picture it shows the snowmen cowering and melting in the light of the finished christmas tree. So is santa(?) creating the tree to destroy the snowmen?

We get to see a few quick shots of the house, in one you can see that there is gas mask hanging on the wall, probably referencing the lane boy video 

After that there’s this table that shows the man’s (santa?) suspicious amount of weapons and a jug of chlorine (ned and the chlorine mv!!) 

there are elves(?) on another paper on the wall. their faces look very similar to the skeleton outfits tyler and josh wear onstage

also the trim on santa’s(?) hat is black and not white and his eyes appear to be dark purple.

 whats the purpose of this, does it mean he’s evil? That makes sense because he threw brutally murdered those two snow men without a second thought and threatened the elves(?) at the kiosk with a knife and then stole all their ornament hooks. After the shot of santa(?), he gets on his motorcycle-moped thingy and that has the license plate trsh drgn, which is trash dragon without the vowels and is an obvious reference to trash

after that santa(?) goes to the kiosk, threatens the elves, and goes to this weird contraption thingy 

behind the contraption in a couple different shots, you can see ned hiding and he hits the switch on the machine

the machine creates an ornament which we get too see is a ned ornament, then we see ned himself, but he disappears immediately after

nothing important that wasn't already mentioned/pictured happened until the end when the man finally finishes the tree and the snowmen turn happy

that’s all we’ve got so far, feel free to say something if you noticed something else or have a theory or just want to add on

Edit: So we’re just now getting to the stuff that people mentioned in the reblogs and stuff

@emocinnamonroll​ said how the deer that ‘santa’ found had a black nose when he found him and had a red nose at the end of the video. I don’t know the significance of this yet but it seems worth noting. They also said that a lot of people think that ‘santa’ might be Nico or another bishop and holy fuck thats an awesome theory and something about it seems so true. They pointed out that there are books in the house with different songs from trench, sai, and maybe blurryface (ill try to find those in the morning when my brain isnt dead). They also said that people think the deer might be clancy which makes so much sense

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-OT7

Contrary to peoples' opinions-surrounding the fact that you're dating seven men that belong to the mafia-you're not helpless. You can defend yourself. But a close brush with some dangerous people has your boyfriends questioning that fact-wondering if you can protect yourself enough-and true to their natures, they're not going to stand idly by if you're in any sort of danger whatsoever.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, OT7, BTS x you, BTS x reader, OT7 x reader, OT7 x you, Poly!BTS, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff, Kim Seokjin, Min yoongi, Jung hoseok, Kim namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim taehyung, Jeon Jungkook

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Title: Protect You

The garden that surrounds the mansion is usually quiet this time of morning-the sound of birds just starting to sing their songs, the trickle of the fountain that runs down into a meandering stream through the trees-but this morning, the clear morning air is broken by the harsh, insistent sound of a squeaky toy.

"Tannie, Tannie!" You hold aloft the rubber duck and squeak it once more enthusiastically, the small dog dancing around your feet-eyes bright, ears perked, tongue lolling-as he waits for you to toss the toy once more. "You want it? Go get it!"

You throw the duck across the open space of the courtyard and the dog streaks off in a flash of black and tan fur, tiny legs churning, as he barks happily, chasing after the bouncing rubber toy.

You sit back down on the bench, slightly laughing to yourself at the dog's almost maniacal enthusiasm, and reach out a hand to caress Holly's head where he sits beside you, paws folded neatly, on the stone seat beneath the shade of the fruit trees.

"To have that kind of energy, eh, Holly?" You ask gently, glancing over at the older poodle, who gives you a slight wag of his tale, pink tongue hanging past his lips, though he has been doing nothing but sitting in the shade. You stroke his head affectionately, rubbing his soft, silky ears between your fingers. "Yeah, I know. I like the shade better too."

Tannie appears back at your feet again, panting hard, dark eyes glittering, as he proudly drops the duck he has retrieved at the toes of your sneakers.

"Good boy, Tan!" You exclaim, leaning over to pet the other dog, as he dances in place and his tail wags furiously at your praise. "You brought me your toy! You're so good. You did so good."

You stand from the bench, reaching down to round up the toys Yeontan has been playing with, and Holly rises-stretching languidly-beside you, as you glance between both eagerly waiting dogs and ask, "You guys want some water? Wanna go inside and take a break for awhile? Let's go get some water."

Yeontan, circling your feet, yips happily and bounds toward the back door, leading the way back toward the house, as you glance back to make sure Holly is following-albeit a slower pace-behind the two of you.

And that's when the pair of men step out from behind the trees that line the tall wall that surrounds the property.

The shorter one grins at you, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his slacks, and flicks the toothpick he holds between his teeth around with a light twitch of his tongue. "Hello there, Mrs. Kim."

You watch the pair warily, as they continue to advance toward you on slow, stalking footsteps. "Gentlemen. Can I ask what you're doing in my garden?"

The man who had spoke before-the one with the long greasy hair tied at the nape of his neck-spits his toothpick onto the ground and arches a brow in your direction, hands still hidden in his pockets, though his shoulders raise slightly as he gives you a casual shrug. "Just out for a walk. Thought we'd stop in for a visit."

Holly growls at your feet, hackles raised, as the two men step closer still, and you reach down to pick him up, sheltering him in your arms, as you ask calmly, "Really? Because I don't recall that we've ever met."

"Oh, we haven't." The man replies, flicking a finger toward his taller counterpart, who has yet to speak. At his motion, his partner circles to your other side, so that you're now backed into a corner of the garden-the men on either side-and no easy escape in sight. "But we've met your husband many times." He flashes you a dangerous grin that has your insides squirming.

They're referring to Namjoon, you're sure of that. That's always been the agreement between the eight of you-you belong to all of them-but Namjoon is the public face of the relationship.

"He's never mentioned you." You state simply, trying to keep any micro expressions off your face that might hint at the fact that you're starting to get nervous. Your eyes flick toward the back door of the house, about a hundred yards away and blocked by the trees.

"Hmmm." The man leans beside you on one of the tree trunks, and you can almost taste his sweat and his rumpled suit jacket smells of damp and something resembling smoke and cat piss. "Really? Odd." He cocks his head, and his dark eyes hold a dangerous glint, as he reaches up to stroke a finger down the side of your face, Holly baring his teeth in your arms at his close proximity. "Speaking of, where is our good friend Mr. Kim? Away at work?"

There's no use trying to lie. You know-by the way he's watching you, and the stupid leer that crosses the other man's face-that they already know quite well that Namjoon isn't here.

"Yes." You nod, just barely, and jerk your skin away from the man's still trailing finger. "He had business in the city today."

"Oh, well that's too bad." The man clucks his tongue against his teeth in a display of fake disappointment, and his eyes darken as his gaze sweeps down your body. "It's a shame we missed him." He grins wickedly. "I guess you'll just have to tell him we stopped by and relay our message for us."

Before you can react, the shorter man has grabbed your wrists in clammy fingers, Holly frantically barking and snapping in your arms as he closes in on the two of you.

"Get the damn dog out of here." The man barks, struggling to maintain his grip on you as he dodges Holly's flashing teeth.

The taller man rips Holly from your arms and tosses him across the garden away from the three of you, and though he yelps, you're grateful they've released him and not tried to harm him.

Because the pit in your stomach is telling you you won't be so lucky.

The shorter man, his grip on your wrists still tight and painful, has become distracted in that moment, watching his partner toss Holly, and you take the opportunity to slam your shoe down hard on his foot.

He yelps, releasing you for the briefest second, and that's all the time you need to dart past him and toward the door of the house.

You hear the man swear behind you and yell something to the taller man about catching you before you make it inside, but all you can focus on is not tripping and tangling yourself in the foliage as you sprint toward the house.

Your salvation is within maybe ten yards, when the taller man catches up with you.

He catches your wrist and before you can make a sound, slams you with the weight of his body back against the stucco wall of the house, right beside the back door and your only bid for freedom.

You're all breathing hard when the shorter man reaches the two of you, fire blazing behind the dark rings of his irises.

"Stupid bitch." He growls out between loose lips, before hitting you hard across the face with the palm of his hand.

The slap sends your head careening back against the stone wall behind you and leaves your cheek stinging, and as you orient yourself once more-still breathing hard-you can taste the copper sheen of blood on your tongue from your newly split lip.

The man reaches for the buckle of his belt, still glaring at you, and spits on the ground at your feet, before he addresses the taller man who still holds you pinned against the wall. "Hold her still. I think it's time we taught Boss Kim and his little bitch here a long overdue lesson."

The taller man nods, and the way his fingers tighten around your wrists has you wincing slightly.

"Now." The other man steps up to you, and the stench of his warm, putrid breath washing across your face has you feeling as if you're about to vomit. His fingers close on either side of your chin and wrench your gaze up to his own. He smirks wickedly. "I hope you know, I'm going to enjoy this."

You spit in his face violently, saliva and blood mixing into a pink spittle that splashes across his face, which instantly darkens, as he releases your chin and raises his hand into the air to once again deliver a stinging blow.

And then, the sound of a gun cocking has everyone freezing in their tracks.

"What the-" The man glances at his counterpart, who has gone still and is staring with wide eyes beyond his shoulder line, and then directs his gaze in the same direction behind the three of you.

The scene he's met with instantly has his previously venomous gaze filling with terror.

Yoongi's finger is steady on the trigger as he holds the gun on the two men, features dark and deceptively treacherously calm as Jin flanks one of his sides, Hobi on the other-and their faces are just as unreadable and blank-though you know there is a dark, dangerous current of emotions brewing just beneath that calm surface.

Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin complete the half circle surrounding your attackers, and glancing at the absolute and utter fear on the two men's faces, you can't blame them.

Looking down the ready, waiting barrels of six guns would make anybody-no matter how brave-wet themselves where they stood.

"I told you the truth." You speak into the suddenly electric silence that has fallen over the group, and your assailant glances back at you, as if he had forgotten you were there, mouth agape, eyes wide. You offer him an innocent smile. "Namjoon is at work. But I didn't say the other six were."

The sound of another gun cocking into position has the two men whirling back to face the circle of men surrounding you.

Taehyung's finger finds the trigger of his pistol, and-normally warm eyes dark-his lips quirk upward into just the hint of a humorless smirk as he stares down the two men beside you, and when he speaks, his voice is cold and absolutely murderous as he parrots back the words the intruder had used just moments before.

"I hope you know, I'm going to enjoy this."

**********

"What happened."

It isn't a question as Namjoon strides into the room, loosening his tie as he enters, usually unruffled attitude an odd mixture of humming danger and worry.

Yoongi glances up from where he sits in the corner, polishing his gun, and grunts out darkly, "Couple of goonies thought they'd get the upper hand and take out the boss's wife."

You can tell, by the way his normally controlled movements are jerky on the barrel of the weapon, that he is still worked up.

Namjoon crosses the room to where you sit on the sofa, coming to stand before you and the boys that surround you, though Jimin doesn't look up at him, focusing on cleaning the wound that cuts across your bottom lip.

"Ouch!" You hiss out as he hits a particularly tender spot with the antiseptic, jerking back from him, as he meets your gaze and offers you a slightly apologetic look as Hobi, who sits beside you, arm around your shoulders, gives you a comforting pat on the hand.

Namjoon crouches down and ignoring Jimin, pushes past the younger man, eyes softening slightly as he runs his thumb carefully over your split lip and up the purple bruising that is just starting to show on your cheekbone. "Whoever did this, I'll make them pay. I swear it."

You lean your cheek into the palm of his hand, his skin warmed by the afternoon sun, and offer him the hint of a smile, though it hurts your lip to do so. "I know you will."

"What do we do if this happens again, Namjoon?" Jin asks from where he is leaning against the desk, watching the interaction between the two of you with careful gaze. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, and he shifts from one foot to the other, brow furrowed as he regards the younger man. "If next time-"

"There's not going to be a next time." Namjoon cuts him off abruptly, standing up once more, as he sends the other man a hard look. "This is never going to happen again."

"But what if it does." Jungkook speaks up, and his normally large doe eyes are flashing with anger, irises no longer warm, but dark, as he slams his palms down in frustration on the desk his elder leans upon. "What if it does happen again, hyung? What then? We can't keep putting her in danger like this."

"I'm really fine-" You start to protest, speaking around Jimin's fingers, who has moved back into position to keep cleaning the long cut on your lips. His fingertips press into the plush skin of your mouth, effectively cutting off your words with a gentle admonishment.

He tilts his head and stares at you, full lips curving into a gentle smile, eyes crinkling, making you feel slightly better in the way only Jimin can, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, just like his touch.

"No one is doubting you can take care of yourself, baby girl." His fingers caress the line of your jaw and his gaze is thoughtful. "We just don't want to put you in situations where you have to."

"Hyung." Taehyung steps up beside Namjoon, who is now staring out the large window behind the desk and down onto the gardens below, and when his hand rests on the leader's arm, you note that his fingers are still speckled with blood from the stand off earlier.

When he speaks again, the deep timbre of his voice shakes slightly, as if he's still so pissed off that he can hardly control himself. "Those sons of bitches almost touched her. If we hadn't been here-"

You wince at his choice of words, because he's right. Without them, you would have been left to an incredibly dark fate at the hands of the two intruders.

"I'm with Jungkook." Yoongi finally speaks up once more, and he stands from the corner, laying his now sparkling gun aside, as he approaches Namjoon and Taehyung, still silhouetted against the window. He heaves a sigh and glances in your direction, before addressing Namjoon seriously. "She needs to be able to protect herself. God forbid, there's another time, but if there is, we can't just leave her defenseless."

You can tell that Namjoon does not take the older man's opinion lightly, and you can visibly see him weighing his hyung's words before his shoulders slump in defeat, and he lets out a tired sigh. "All right."

He strides across the room again and crouches down in front of where you sit once more, long legs folded beneath his body, as his eyes meet yours in a firm gaze. He reaches out to take your chin in his hand, in a much gentler, much more loving grip than the man had used earlier, and his lips purse into a serious, stern line, before he intones quietly, eyes soft, "It's time to teach you a few things, darling."

******

The first thing you can think when Jin leads you into the armory and you see all the weapons lining the walls is holy shit.

The second thing is how have you never noticed how many different guns the men you love have at their disposal?

"So, you've got your assaults, your machines," Jin gestures to each rack of guns as you pass by on your tour, Jungkook trailing along behind the two of you, sometimes running loving fingers up certain weapons as you walk by. "Pistols, handguns, snipers, rocket launchers-"

"Have you guys used all of these guns?" You ask, mouth agape, as you glance around the huge room full of deadly weapons.

"No way." Jungkook shakes his head, bounding up to stand beside you, as he slings an arm around your shoulders and gives you a deceivingly innocent bunny smile, as if he's not talking about guns that kill people. "Some of these are specialized. We have to hire professionals for those."

"Aren't you professionals?" You question curiously, grinning slightly as Jungkook laughs at your query.

"Okay. Eventually, you can pick what feels most comfortable for you, princess." Jin reappears from another smaller room, cocking and loading a small handgun into his palm, as he approaches you and Jungkook. "However, we're going to start small for now."

He offers the gun to you, and you hesitate only a moment, before reaching out and taking the gun from him. The metal feels cold against your palm, as you fingering the gun, trying to get used to the weight.

A low whistle sounds from the entrance of the room, and you glance up as Taehyung enters, eyes scanning the racks of guns almost fondly, as he states lightly, "Look at all the pretties."

Jin sighs from beside you, rolling his eyes, though you catch the hint of a smile, before his expression becomes neutral again. "Can you please stop talking about assault rifles the same way you talk about shoes, Kim Taehyung?"

Taehyung smirks and winks at you, eyebrow cocked cheekily, as he reaches your side and throws his arms around you and Jungkook's shoulders. "C'mon hyung, lighten up. You know our girl's gonna be a natural." He chucks you playfully under the chin. "Right, sweetheart?"

You shrug, still trying to get used the feeling of the gun in the palm of your hand. "I dunno. I hope so?"

Jin takes your hand in his and leans over to press a kiss to the side of your forehead. "I'd believe him if I were you. He's uncannily good at predicting what other people are good at."

Taehyung grins at the praise. "Yeah! Like I can tell you that I predict that Jungkookie is gonna be shit at Fortnite when we play later tonight."

"Hey." Jungkook leans around you to try and catch Taehyung with his fist as the older boy laughs.

"All right, all right." Jin berates them lightly, though you can tell he's trying not to grin at the younger boys antics. He waves toward you and the gun you still hold in your hand. "Let's get (Y/N) to the shooting range then."

Taehyung slings his arm once more around your shoulders as you all follow Jin toward the range. "Trust me, sweetheart." He offers you the hint of a soft smile and squeezes your fingers between his own. "You're gonna get so good, next time those bastards try anything, they won't know what hit them before you blow their brains out."

[idkbecks]

theres only like 3 idkhow songs that have dark tones to them what are these people whining about

Warning: This is ridiculously long LOL

Modern Day Cain - Talks about sinning and lying. I guess that could be triggering? He also says "varicose vein" which I guess could be upsetting for people who are squeamish. Basically nothing in this song is genuinely offensive.

Do It All The Time - Making fun of people, which I guess could be hurtful. Talks about dying which could be upsetting. Talks about having relations with girls that are in relationships with another person. It's very lighthearted and upbeat so I don't see how it could be truly triggering to anybody. Also... it's fiction.

Choke - Hostile. Some people don't like angry stuff. Talks about wanting somebody to die. Threatens violence. "Basket case" could be seen as derogatory. "Idiot" is derogatory. Emphasis on being happy about somebody dying. But it's a release of emotion. It's not a legitimate threat.

Bleed Magic - Implies negative treatment of somebody with the line "before I drag you down". That's not necessarily offensive. "Crawling up your skin" is kind of creepy, I suppose. Reference of drugs and medicines which maybe is triggering to people. The word "bleed" I guess could be triggering. "Nobody believes you now" could be perceived as a taunt. "Don't want to know your name" could be perceived as rude, I guess. "Until it's far too late" could be seen as a threat. Basically, this is all reaching. It's a negative-toned song but it's also art and fictional. Nobody is actually bleeding out.

Social Climb - "Come break some hearts now, tear them out" could be seen as graphic and mean. "Doing things not typically allowed" could be seen as vulgar, maybe? It's suggestive. "Lay unconscious in the ground" suggests dying. "No one's got control of what I do" could be seen as reckless or dangerous. So in conclusion, nothing more than a negative overtone is here.

Absinthe - "Bring to me your sons and daughters" was accused of being transphobic by many people. I think they are dumb. That's all I'm saying about that. References alcohol. References disobedience. "Wind me up or you'll wind up dead" is a threat. Mentioning burning witches is negative and perpetuates violence, if I'm really taking it literally, but nobody sane would do that. "Whatever they give you stop drinking it down" suggests that somebody is being taken advantage of. "If I were you then I'd stop talking cause soon you'll be a dead man walking" is a threat. "I hear voices, I see visions" suggests somebody of ill health, I guess? "These spirits are your prison" is negative because it's directly saying that somebody is imprisoned and thus struggling. So it's just a song with a negative tone and a fictional narrative, basically. Shocker.

Christmas Drag - About not liking Christmas. "I won't come back again" could imply dying, maybe. "Oh how I wish it was last year when we were still best friends" implies an unfortunate turn of events between friends which is sad. "All you've gotta do is say that " I love you" and Christmas this next year will be fine" could be seen as manipulative, I GUESS because it's a lot of pressure to put on somebody. Basically nothing is offensive in this song unless you are Christmas' #1 fan.

Oh Noel - Sad. References divorce, friends drifting apart, suicide, a mentally struggling person, crying, death. It's just sad. But it's art and art is allowed to be sad.

Leave Me Alone - Begins with a taunt. Insult about not having friends. Requests to be left alone. Insult about not being as cool as one thinks they are. "Go fly a kite until you're tangled in the hanging tree" was described as Dallon as a way to say "eff off and die". That's clearly negative. But it's okay to be negative in art. It's not offensive. Bridge suggests partying, madness, weapon, money and being easily convinced into liking people. That part could be insulting if people are insecure about how easily persuaded they are into liking people. I suppose saying "god" could be triggering. It's not that deep though. It's his perspective in the form of subjective art. Like if you're not okay with this then you're not okay with people expressing themselves.

Razzmatazz - "Don't hold your breath for goodness' sake, nobody's home" implies a bad situation with no help. "Parliaments filled with parasites" references corrupt governments. Mentions breaking bones and casting spells. Mentions a broken heart, a superiority complex and losing friends. "Some things just cannot be fixed

with sparkled tongues and politics" suggests a problem is at hand that is bigger than any of the attempted solutions can handle. References politics. "In a facist little paradox, we all become anonymous" could be upsetting because it directly highlights a bad situation in the world and how people handle it poorly. It's just another negatively toned song but there's also plenty of positive tones so it's completely subjective and depends how you decide to see it.

New Invention - Mentions the devil, also mentions the devil being on somebody's shoulder which could suggest they are being negatively influenced, used, manipulated or are perhaps resentful. Followed by a threat. Mentions manipulation and lies, also brings up addiction. "I can't say no" implies he's against his will. "Losing control" is negative. Discussion of nightmares and "bad things", while awake and asleep. "Despite your good intentions" implies that the outcome is negative regardless of attempts to help. "The girl is like an architect and I am just a new invention" suggests that he is only what another person makes him to be and that his worth is dictated by another person. He is dehumanized and essentially compared to nothing more than a toy. "Choose between your faces" suggests somebody is lying to position themselves in different lights. "Running out of holy places" suggests things are getting worse and there are less options. "What a shame nobody taught you how to read and riot" suggests somebody was lead astray or let down by those who were supposed to help them. "It's a miracle I'm standing" suggests constant hardships. It also suggests an ability to overcome such hardships though so it's really up to how somebody wants to see it. "I can't sleep" suggests deteriorating wellbeing because we need sleep to survive. It also suggests immense struggle and lack of control, which are themes present throughout the song. So this song is in general negative, but why is that a problem? It's not offensive.

Lights Go Down - "Pardon me, if I forget your name" is kind of rude. "Heads roll just the same" could be graphic. "Dressed like you're so uptown" is backhanded because the word "like" suggests that the person isn't actually how they are presenting themselves. "Decay in your costumes" could be seen as Dallon wishing death or suffering upon these people. "Is that any way to talk to me?" suggests disobedience and authority. "Corrupting the young with your uncivil tongue, what a shame if you misspeak now" brings up the ideas of harming the youth based on very small errors, which could also be seen as a taunt. "It's curtains for you" suggests something is over. "Join the back of the queue" implies somebody must start over or give up a current standing they have.

"Break our necks" could be graphic. "Shake when you haunt me like you were a ghost town" is negative because it talks about ghosts and haunting? Maybe? I'm just trying to be thorough. It's not fun to be haunted. "The thief of the year" is negative because theft. "Steal every heart from the boys that you're touching" could be seen as threatening when coupled with the theft aspect because it suggests that the boys mentioned are unsuspecting victims. But this song is about dancing, bruh. It has dark language but it isn't necessarily a dark song.

Debra - Sex. (I know they didn't write it but people who hate iDKHOW probably argue that it's inappropriate to play because it's about sex. They're dumb.)

Mx. Sinister - Creepy. Threatening. Stalking. Graphic with the "open you up" line. It's meant to be creepy though. It's not like he's genuinely threatening anybody. It's a work of fiction.

Mad IQs - Begins with a very arrogant attitude, suggesting being invincible or above others. "Lose yourself" and "lose your mind" can be perceived negatively. "Lose all of your money" is negative. References survival and dying. Brings up knives, being a victim, nooses, burning, madness and knowledge. I guess that could be upsetting word choice to some. References an apocalypse, losing control, heaven, souls, sickness, obscenity. "You can bend or you can break" suggests one shouldn't try because it's pointless. "They'll replace you with machines" minimizes one's worthy, but it's important to realize that he was referring to himself so it's his right to do so. Mentions paralyzation, anatomy (kind of, I'm trying to be through) and frustrated confusion. Basically nothing in this is offensive. I could see how some lines could be triggering because he talks about knives for ONE line but then just don't listen to it. He's not threatening to stab somebody.

Nobody Likes the Opening Band - Talks about failure and anxiety. That's it. Not offensive in the slightest, especially since it's laced with humor.

From the Gallows - Gallows suggest hangings. "Evil", "sinister", "vile" are all dark. "I'd die or kill myself" is obviously dark and mentions death and suicide. "I'll count all your teeth" could maybe be seen as murder? It's definitely weird and creepy.

"I'd swing from the gallows and wave" implies hangings and maybe even zombie/vampire Dallon? "Noose" and "grave" reference being dead and dying. "Vicious" is negative in reference to a toxic lover who has complete control over their partner. So this ones dark but it's very poetic and again, as always, fiction. It paints a clear and passionate picture, which is what happens when people are good at writing.

Sugar Pills - Implies drug abuse, I guess. Depends how you look at it. Suggests feeling bad, ignoring instructions and being reckless. Suggests madness or a struggling thought process. "Sick fascination" implies a negative or dark compulsion. "Pseudo-scientific" could be upsetting to some people, maybe. "You can fix this" implies there's a problem at hand. "You're with me all the time, always in the back of my mind" suggests a dependence or an inability to escape something. So nothing is offensive, basically. Good to know. Very surprising.

Kiss Goodnight - Opens up with a declaration for not valuing anything. "Girls like you" is generalizing. "It might just end my life" references death. That's it. Not really anything possibly triggering or that dark except those two lines.

Need You Here - Sad. Describes a sad and confused child who misses their father. Father is also sad. It's just sad but it's also positive in a lot of ways and very moving.

Door - I guess it could be seen as sad because he's questioning his worth but he's also implying he has completely positive intentions. I guess it could also be seen as manipulative because he's basing his next move completely on a response he gets from somebody, but that's also seen as romantic and very consenting. Really stretching here to paint it in any bad light because again, like many of these songs, there's nothing beyond objective negativity or sad themes. It's not offensive or deliberately triggering.

Basically, in summary, nothing is unreasonably negative or threatening. If people are triggered by themes that are present in a lot of their songs, 1. just don't listen to them and 2. stop obsessing over the things that you're upset by because you are only upsetting and harming yourself more. Dallon creates vivid imagery because he's a talented writer. That's a good thing, not a bad thing. If you think any of these songs are "deeply disturbing, sexist and yucky" or "terribly disturbing and triggering" or "terrible, disgusting, sexist, disgusting, dangerous" as some people on twitter said, you really should just stop listening to all music at that point. I don't know what to tell you. I broke it all down so if anybody has any additions or corrections, let me know. I don't believe that any part of any of these songs are offensive or intentionally upsetting to anybody, especially your average listener. This was for fun and also to make a point that people like to be angry and mean and resentful and speak with very little basis.

[thiswasinevitableid]

A prompt if you’re interested: From the very end of the last chapter of “Amnesty Records” where you wrote “a song about two ghosts finding each other in the woods, falling so in love that they come back to life.” Indruck, please! Your choice of rating! Meet uglies and so sweet you’ll get cavities are always welcome! Thank you!

I decided to pair this ask with the prompt for the 31st, which is "nothing truly ends."

Content note: this contains references to a car crash.

31. Nothing truly ends

Indrid stumbles back up the embankment; it’s a miracle he can move at all, the way the car rolled ought to have broken a few bones but here he is, barely a scratch on him. He holds his phone up but there’s no signal. Fucking NRQZ.

Headlights cut through the raindrops up ahead and frantically waves his arms, calling for them to stop. The mini-van pulls over and a woman hurries out, the man in the passenger seat calling to the children clamoring about to stay in the car.

“Thank you so much for stopping. I, I hydroplaned and by the time I got control the car was already-”

“Jesus.” The man turns to the woman, who’s holding her cellphone as a flashlight, “anyone down there?”

“No” Indrid approaches them, “I was the only passenger.”

“I can’t quite...oh christ, Arthur, there’s someone in the driver’s seat, they’re not moving. I’m going to go down, if they’re stuck maybe we can help them.”

“I’ll call 911 and come right down after. Boys, you stay put you hear?”

“For goodness sake, there’s no need for this fuss, I’m right here. Hey, hey! Can’t you hear me?” He steps into the beam of the headlights. Freezes when he casts no shadow.

When he holds up his hand, the light passes right through it.

“Well, fuck me I guess.” He whispers, following the woman’s flashlight to where an arm is hanging through the broken driver side window.

When it registers, when he screams, the other travelers don’t even flinch, but every bird and beast scatters away.

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

It’s not fair; he’s incorporeal and yet he cannot get past this line in the trees. Whenever he tries, it’s like ramming his shoulder into a brick wall.

“Yeah, that was a real bummer when I worked it out.”

He spins, startled, to find the source of the drawl to be another man. About his age, he’d say, and dressed like a park ranger. He flicks his eyes downward; not a human shadow in sight.

“Who are you?”

“Duck Newton, it’s a nickname.” He holds out his hand, “forcibly retired ranger and, uh, fellow ghost.”

Indrid takes the offered hand, the touch colder than the worst winter night, “Indrid Cold, yes like the urban legend.”

“Bet you’d be more pleasant to pick up than they say he was. I, uh, I mean, for, uh, for a ride, a, a car ride” color rises in Duck’s cheeks, “that’s, that’s uh, fuck, that’s the only way I mean.”

He’s too tired to decipher whether that was attempted flirting; having the first person to try and pick him up in months be a dead guy might be bleaker than the accident that put him here.

“Why can’t I move beyond here?”

“Ghosts get tethered to where they died; you can only move a certain radius outside it. Guess yours and mine overlap.”

Indrid nods. Then he sags down onto a fallen log, “I spent my whole life trying not to be trapped somewhere. Seems fate had other plans.”

Duck steps closer, “You were the wreck last night, right? Then fate’s got fuck-all to do with it. That was just bad luck and a wet road.”

“No!” Indrid snaps, “no, there, there must be a reason, a cause and effect, a, I, it’s too pointless.”

“Hey, look, it’s okay, I know how you feel-”

“How did you die?” Perhaps there’s a connection, something about the place, some tie between them.

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “I drowned. I was helpin evacuate a campground near here durin a freak flood and, uh, well, I got everyone out except for myself.”

“Then, as someone who died for a greater purpose, kindly shut the hell up about how I feel.”

“Indrid-”

“Please just go.” He tucks his knees up to his chest and hides his face against them, keeping them there as footsteps that only he can hear fade down the trail.

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

Today was the day to break his personal stone-skipping record, but Duck’s heart really isn’t in it. He can’t stop thinking about Indrid; it’s been five days since they met and there’s been no sign of the other ghost. He really hopes he didn’t royally fuck things up with the one person who can really keep him company.

Not that Indrid owes him company. And not that Duck is ever going to admit that his first thought at seeing him was that it was crime for death to rob some guy or other of the chance to kiss that captivating face.

After sinking the fifth stone in a row on the first skip, he turns from the lake and hikes into the trees. It would be easier to float up above for a better view, but moving through the woods this way helps him pretend that everything is normal.

He finds Indrid in the roots of a massive pine tree, laying on his side and sobbing. Duck knows the sound, the way crying croaks and gasps out when you’ve been doing it for days on end.

“Indrid?”

Brown eyes glance up at him before returning to their thousand yard stare.

Duck sits down on a root near his head, “You were right that we didn’t end up here the same way. But, uh, if you need to talk, I got a pretty good sense of what you’re goin’ through. Or I can fuck off if you want me to.”

Leaves crunch as Indrid shakes his head.

“You wanna talk about it?”

A raspy inhale, then, “I, I had s-so many th-things I wanted to, to do. I, I was going to drive the loneliest road, and see that big aquarium out on the coast, and, and I wanted to have rats, two of them, a studio somewhere all my own and, and my, my friend was going to teach me poker when I next saw him and I won’t ever even get to do a m-mundane, small thing like that ever again and I, I feel so stupid for grieving it.”

“First thing I got sad about after the, y’know, bein’ dead part was that I was never gonna get the tattoo I wanted.”

“We’ll never see anyone we love ever again.” Indrid says to the trees.

“Yeah. I’m real fuckin jealous of folks who beefed it at home. Fuck, even a hospital wouldn’t be too bad to get stuck in. Could go up to the kids floor, put on little puppet shows for ‘em when the nurses weren’t looking. But, uh, the Monongahela ain't so bad; I know you ain’t got the attachment to it that I did when I died I just, uh, just want you to know that as final places go, you could do a lot worse. And, uh” he touches Indrid’s shoulder, “someone’s pack got bumped outta a river raft a few months back. Had a deck of waterproof playin cards in it. So if you ever wanna learn how to play poker I can teach you.”

Indrid sniffles and without thinking Duck strokes his hair to see if it helps. The newer ghost suddenly flips onto his other side and buries his face against Duck’s stomach, sobbing and shaking so intensely that if he still had bones, Duck would be worried about him breaking them.

It’s been so long since he comforted someone. Yet it’s the easiest thing in the world to sit under the setting sun and hold Indrid too him until, either an eternity or a moment later, he falls into the closest thing he can to sleep.

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

“Are you certain we won’t frighten anyone?”

“Nah” Duck waves him into the road leading to the Eastwood Campground, “Even the most open minded folks have a hard time spottin’ ghosts in the daytime. Ugh, c’mon, the sign about bears is right there.” Duck clears an open bag of chips from the table and unlatches the bear box to shove them inside it. His hand stays on the metal, “goddamn I miss nachos.”

“I’d murder someone for fruit gushers.”

Duck raises an eyebrow.

“That was a joke.”

The ranger snickers, “Thought so.”

It’s a problem Indrid had in life; sometimes too literal when interpreting other’s jokes and too deadpan in his own delivery. It hasn’t stopped Duck from goofing off with him; he just bends his approach, learns the little tells in Indrid’s face that mean he’s kidding. Then Indrid gets to bask in his friend’s ridiculous laugh bouncing through the trees.

They move through the campground, eavesdropping now and then as they pick up litter and check fire pits to be certain they’re out. Indrid teases Duck for not being able to let go of his work but they both know he’s been drawing quite a lot in the sand lately for lack of a pen and paper. When he’d looked up, sheepish, at Duck staring at his damp twilight scene, the ranger shrugged and said, “It helps to feel like you’re still you.”

As they’re debating whether the depths of the sea or the depths of space are scarier, Duck stops with a faint shhc of gravel. A woman in a uniform the same as his own is chatting with some campers, smiling and laughing as she does.

“Juno?” Indrid murmurs.

Duck nods, “I tried talkin to her once or twice but...she can’t hear me.” His smile is the saddest Indrid’s ever seen, “glad she’s doin’ okay.”

Indrid waits until the ranger finishes her discussion and disappears back towards the station at the campground entrance.

“Shall we go see if those Great Horned Owl chicks have hatched?”

“Yeah. Yeah let’s do that. Might even see the parents; it’s real neat to, uh, to get that close to ‘em.” He clears his throat, “guess bein’ dead’s got some benefits.”

Indrid bumps their shoulders together as they turn towards home, “True.”

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

“Hey, ‘Drid, come look!”

Indrid floats upward until he’s just above the tree-tops, let’s Duck pull him over so they can hover side by side. His friend’s whole body floods with blues, reds, and sparkling white-golds. As the fireworks crackle and boom from the distant speck that is downtown Kepler, Duck rests his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

“Forgot how much fun it is to watch these with someone.”

“I’m glad my cheering is so--OOH! I’ve never seen one in a star shape before!” He flaps his hands and Duck laughs.

“Knew the fella who plans these shows; always tried to get the most cuttin’ edge stuff. Not sure they were always the most, uh, legal fireworks, but their fire safety protocols were damn good.”

“I don’t suppose they do them any other time of the year?”

“New Years, and sometimes they’ll do ‘em around Christmas. You’ll like New Years; they managed a rainbow last time.”

Indrid grins, tilting his head to rest it on Duck’s own, “I can’t wait.”

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

Indrid half floats, half walks his usual route to what he and Duck long ago started calling “their” lake. There’s some portions of each other’s radii that they can’t enter, which means they sometimes spend a few days apart. In the beginning, Indrid sought Duck out because the thought of being alone terrified him. Now, well over a year later, he goes to him because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Because he misses him when they’re apart.

The last time they were together, Duck kept looking at him like he was a priceless painting--or, given this was Duck, perhaps an rare pine he thought had gone extinct--and when Indrid met his eyes they both blushed like teenagers in the backseat.

He’s so busy remembering the way Duck kept leaning into his space that he doesn’t notice the hiker until he hears, “brrrr, when did it get so fucking cold?”

“Dude, it’s like eighty degrees.”

There’s a whole flock of twenty-somethings on the beach, some cranking up music and tossing stones into the water while others unload beer from a cooler. Duck is perched on a rock, watching them.

“Going to catch up on town gossip?”

“Damn right. These kinda shindigs are always fun to watch. Though if they start boning, I’m out. I’m a ghost, not a creep.”

“Agreed.” Indrid stretches out on the stone to enjoy the show.

It’s well after midnight when the remaining guests--the ones who haven’t snuck off to the bushes--switch the music from alt rock to alt folk, ushering in a series of slow songs that have both the living and the dead swaying.

“Wanna dance?” Duck nudges their feet together.

Indrid stands, pulling him up along with him. There’s a moment of trying to remember whose hand goes where, then Indrid’s arm is around Duck’s waist, Duck’s arm is around his shoulder, and their hands are linked. It’s a clumsy, sort-of waltz, barely in time with the music, but Indrid can’t stop smiling as they spin. He doesn’t look down, doesn’t track their path, nothing in the world could pull his gaze away from the curves of Duck’s face.

When the song ends, stars glitter above and beneath them.

“Danced us halfway across the lake.” Duck smiles up at him.

Indrid rests their foreheads together, “Shall we see how many dances it takes to reach the other side?”

“Lead the way.”

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

They’re walking their usual path along the lakeside when Duck asks, “If you ever got the chance to be alive again, what’s the first thing you’d do?”

Indrid toes pebbles into the water, “Truthfully? Come back here with a Ouija Board so we could talk.”

Something strained enters Duck’s laugh, “First thing you’d do is come back to the place you died? You’d be alive, ‘Drid, you could do anythin’ you wanted to.”

“I feel alive now, more than I did for much of my actual life. I know that sounds sad and pathetic but it’s true. The years we’ve spent together makes me feel like the world is full of promise, the future is bright, even though we’ll never move beyond this patch of trees until the heat death of the universe.” He pivots so they’re face to face, “why? What would you do?”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “Come back here and try to find you. I...I love you so goddamn much, Indrid. I wish you’d gotten to live the long, long life you deserved but, uh, at the same time I’m so fuckin’ glad we met. That we found each other, even if it was too late for us to build a life together.”

Indrid cups cold cheeks, guides their lips together and smiles when Duck gasps into the kiss. Strong arms loop around him and god, and he feels safer and more loved than he’s felt since he was a kid.

When they part it’s only with enough space to speak.

“I love you too, Duck.”

Another kiss, longer and deeper than the Greenbriar river that runs in the distance. Thank goodness he doesn’t need to breathe. So why is he lightheaded?

He gasps, gulping air as Duck does the same.

“The fuck?” Duck touches his throat as confusion and adrenaline pound in Indrid’s chest.

“Oh my god.” He sets his right hand on his chest, his left hand on Duck’s.

Heartbeats, two of them, pulsing steadily under his palms.

“How?” Duck whispers.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if others would see…”

Branches crack to their left.

“Oop, sorry fellas, didn’t mean to startle you. Just lookin for a nice place to eat lunch.”

“I think I speak for both of us when I say this is a wonderful spot. And that we were just leaving.”

“Yep, it’s all yours.” Duck is already pulling them towards the trail.

“Thanks! Y’all have a nice day.”

“I’m not sure I could have anything else.” Indrid kisses Duck’s warm cheek as they follow the signs for the campground ranger station.

“No fuckin kiddin.” Duck smiles, then laughs, and Indrid can’t help but laugh with him as a thousand new futures enter his mind and they hurry down the sunny path, their shadows chasing them all the way.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Cosmic love, parts 6-10

Summary: Saved by Jasper, Aurora trusts him to take her to safety during the storm, not realizing she would soon meet his entire family. Things get complicated when Paul comes looking for her, starting an altercation which reveals their secrets before an unsuspecting Aurora.  Warnings: Sexual references, drinking, depression, anxiety, angst, fluff, swearing, blood, an attack

                                               - Masterlist -

Part 6: What if this storm ends

"You can't buy me!" Aurora throws a glass his way, her nostrils flared and her eyes fixed on his, disappointment glistening in them as he ducks just in time.

"Why not? What makes you so special?" He snarls, slamming his fist on the table beside him and she swallows thickly, holding her breath not to flinch at his angry outburst. She knows better than to let him or anyone else see weakness.

"Don't try me, you devil." Her voice is calm and even, unlike her thunderous heart that's struggling to keep up with the adrenaline pumping through the coronary arteries supplying it. "Don't forget I know your secrets and I am not afraid to tell the authorities."

Smirking, she winks smugly before turning her back on the man known as the kind of a man you never leave.

"You will regret this. I promise you, Vanderbilt. Daddy won't always be there to protect you."

Gasping, I feel the cold surrounding me. My body is numb, freezing. Coughing up water, I turn my head to the side and find a helping hand pulling my hair back and another running alongside my spine, attempting to soothe my initial panic.

"Shhh", I hear the whisper, "You're going to be alright", the voice says and it's hard not to recognize it as a man's voice.

The tone truly does soothe me, or perhaps it's the icy touch rubbing my back, but I am calm, more than I should be considering I've almost died and ended up in hell. There's no other explanation for it, or that man wouldn't have been in my final thoughts. I was going to hell and he would be the devil there as well.

The man is grimacing, his hand gently tucking a strand of my hair behind me ear and my vision clears, if only for a moment. He is so blond. His hair brings memories of golden wheat fields I ran through as a child, of those many hued stems that danced in the autumn light, whispering gentle songs into the wind. His jantar eyes are fixed on me, as if he's deciding if he did the right thing.

"Th-thank you", I manage, still breathless from the shock of what seemed like inevitable death.

His arms tighten around me and his lips part and I smile, mesmerized by his beauty. I've never seen a man I could call perfect but he is - angelic perfection.

"You're a hero. Truly. Like an angel, showing up just in the nick of time." Raising a hand, I place it on his cheek with a tremble revealing just how shaken I am - not just by the near-death experience, but him.

"I'm no hero, mam'." His accent was such a playful tune, as if he were the star of his own movie. I could have sat there all day simply to listen and smile.

"I'm not a mam', Cowboy, but you're definitely my hero." Winking I grin as he pulls me up to my feet, a smile of his own appearing and my heart stops. That smile is the prettiest thing I've seen in a while, for it extends to his golden hues and deep into his soul despite the inkling of nervousness that amplifies my interest in him.

Once I'm standing, his arms leave me and the wind blowing makes me shiver. The sky cracks open above us and rain pours down, but I'm already wet and so is he. Staring at each other with faint smirks, I realize I don't even know his name. "I'm Aurora"" I shout, hoping he hears me as thunder reminds me once again how insane this situation is. I'm almost naked in a storm on the beach with a stranger who manages to captivate me with his existence.

"Jasper." He answers and I can't help the smile upon my lips as I nod, acknowledging it.

"I like it! Though I wouldn't have minded calling you Cowboy a while longer." Shrugging, I turn to gather my belongings. Something inside me stirs, telling me not to turn my back on him. Intuition, perhaps, but I do it anyway. Licking the raindrops from my lips, I taste the salty ocean lingering in the crevices drawn by God himself on my rosy lips. I wonder if lips are as unique as fingerprints.

Holding my breath, I turn instantly at the sensation of a stronger wind blowing at my back and I find myself faced with Jasper. Wide eyed, he's staring intently, his lips pressed together as if he's waging an inner war even he's surprised he's winning.

"Are you alright?" I frown, tilting my head to the right as he nods, robotically so. He's tense, not saying a word but I notice him swallowing thickly. "We should get out of this weather before lighting strikes one of us", I joke, trying to relax him. Truth be told, I'd do anything to see him smile again. He looked ethereal, a divine gift so much so I wondered if I did die and this was my heaven.

"I know where we can go." Jasper's face remains impassive. He's not even blinking, eyes focused on mine. Normally I'd find it odd, but I find myself staring back at him, challenging him. I'm not one to back down from anything, not even a staring contest. And he's standing so close, close enough to kiss him if I dare move a half a step toward him and a part of me yearns for his lips, but another part of me is questioning the attraction I feel.

"Lead the way", I offer him a half smile as he steps away and I wrap a towel around me. It does nothing to warm me, but at least I'm not as exposed as I was.

In a blink of an eye, I exhale and lose the ground beneath my feet. When I open my eyes and inhale, I'm standing in front of a small house in the middle of the forest. "How?", I stumble. Furrowing my eyebrows, I grasp my head as if it's about to fall of my shoulders and look around wildly. The trees provide a cover from the rain, but it's not as helpful with a downpour. The house looks like it had seen better days, the vines around it growing against the walls like it does in fairytales.

"You fainted and I carried you here." Jasper explains, his arms raised in mock surrender, "I couldn't leave you there and you just started coming to a minute before we got here."

Blinking fast, I try to comprehend his reasoning and while it would have been smarter if he called an ambulance instead of bringing me to the middle of nowhere, I did find myself unusually calm. If it had been anyone else, I'd probably run and call the police, but Jasper is different. I can't walk away from him. He's alluring. Inhuman in some way I can't quite pinpoint. Maybe it's the golden locks or the unusual eye mutation, but I want to embrace what life has to offer and he's here, right before me in all his perfection. I can't deny destiny has put him on my path and if this is my second chance at life, I'm not going to waste it.

"Hope I wasn't too heavy", I chuckle nervously. My legs are still wobbly as I step toward him and he's quick to catch me before I fall. Taking me into his arms once more, Jasper chuckles and I realize this is what life is supposed to be about - living long enough to find someone who will make your heart flutter with nothing but a chuckle.

"As light as a feather", he draws out with a smile remaining on his lips.

"See?" I let out a soft sigh, my palm finding its way to his cold cheek. He raises an eyebrow, pausing before opening the door and I lean my head on his shoulder with a small smile forming on my face. "You are my hero."

3rd person POV

"Where is she?!" Kicking Aurora's suitcase, Paul dents the wall. Jared sighs, leaning on the doorframe with a raised eyebrow.

"I doubt you'll get any information out of a suitcase." He shrugs, adding for good measure, "Especially one you tortured."

Paul whips around, the vein on his forehead visible and Jared can tell he's not in the mood for his smart-ass. "This isn't a fucking joke, Jared." Running his fingers through his hair, Paul shakes his head. Plopping down on the couch, he closes his eyes and inhales the lingering smell of her perfume he found himself addicted to. "She's not just anyone to me, okay?"

"What do you mean? You didn't imprint on her, right? I mean, you can't imprint twice." Jared sits beside him, his hands interlocked and in his lap as he furrows his eyebrows.

Sitting back, Paul rolls his eyes and glares at Jared. "No, I didn't fucking imprint on her but I finally found someone worth putting my heart on the line for." Sighing, Paul leans his head back and stares up at the ceiling. "I never thought I'd find anyone after Rachel. I didn't want to." Chuckling in disbelief, Paul licks his lips. "Aurora changed my mind in a single night."

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you really fucked up when you left with Rachel then." Jared leans his elbows on his knees, hoping to hide how glad he is he's got his imprint with him. If he lost Kim in any form, he'd never recover. "Aurora doesn't seem like the type you can screw over and still be in her life."

"I know." Paul groans, standing up with resolve. "Which is why I need to explain myself and why I need to find her. Where the fuck would she go in this weather?"

Shrugging, Jared stands too. "She mentioned she likes the beach on the drive here, so maybe she went to clear her head and found shelter when the storm started."

"I should phase and find her before she gets hurt", Paul frowns, remembering the promise he made himself but he never seems to keep it. He wanted to grow old with his friends and family. He wanted to stop phasing, but he can't seem to stop. It's why he's still so young and all his friends are aging already.

"And show up like her knight in shining armor? Smart!" Jared holds up a hand for a high five only to get Paul's eye roll as his response. "C'mon. Don't leave me hanging", Jared glances at his hand before wiggling his eyebrows at Paul.

"Not gonna happen", Paul walks away, not even looking back at Jared who looked like a kicked puppy. "I'll be back in five!" Paul shouts and in moments, a ripping sound comes as the front door opens and Jared knows Paul phased already. He's much better at controlling it now, but his temper is still difficult to deal with and it always leads to him making the same mistake - phasing.

Paul trudged through the forest, following her nearly faded scent. It's extremely difficult to follow a scent after it has rained, washing away all traces, but Paul still senses her. He needs to find her and the trail leads him straight to the beach, just as Jared suspected.

Pushing aside the annoying jealousy the thought of Jared knowing this spiked, Paul steps onto the sand with care. It's risky to walk onto the beach in his wolf form in the middle of the day, despite the rainstorm, but he's desperate. He needs her to believe in him. She's the only one that does. With her by his side, Paul feels like he can become the man he always wanted. Maybe it's selfish, but he needs Aurora in his life.

However, in the first step, Paul smells it and snarls. The sickly sweet smell is familiar, difficult to ignore.

'A vampire on our territory?' Embry joins the wolf connection and Paul is grateful for it. If it weren't for Embry, he's be going in blind for blood, but he can't. He needs permission from the alpha. Ridiculous really, especially when the alpha hasn't phased in years.

'A Cullen. The blonde male.' Paul specifies, remembering the smell so clearly. He was never fond of them, especially of the blondes. One was disrespectful, the other too bloodthirsty. 'His scent is mixed with Aurora's', Paul growls, turning back to run to Sam. He has to report this and while he's blinded with his own emotions, he'd still react the same if it weren't Aurora.

'You think Jasper would hurt Aurora?' Embry questions, running to Sam who sent him after hearing from Jared.

Paul shakes the graphic thought out of his mind as he sees Sam's house on the horizon. 'They're vampires. They're killers. It's what they do.'

Part 7: A gentleman

Teeth chattering, I cling to Jasper despite his skin being freezing as mine. It's counterproductive, yet I can't seem to let him go, but I have to. The poor guy can say I'm light as a feather as much as he wants but I don't want to abuse his kindness. After all, he needs to put me down eventually, so I tap his shoulder lightly and he takes the hint.

"I'm sorry", carefully, Jasper places me on the sofa and I shake my head with a tight lipped smile.

"I'm not."

Licking his lips, Jasper grants me a dazzling smile once more and I physically restrain myself from squealing like a schoolgirl with a crush. This can't be healthy, but he makes me feel so...light? It's as if the darkness was never there to begin with and I can't explain it, I mean, I hardly know him.

"I should set up the fireplace while you can go and get some clothes from the bedroom." Jasper glances at the doorway behind him and I nod, heading straight toward it. I could definitely use some dry clothes that are less revealing and warm.

The room is quite simple, the bed in the middle with a closet beside it. The entire room is bathed in rich honey colors, very homey and comforting. I wonder if this is his favorite color.

Prepared for a dozen cowboy outfits, I open the closet in hopes of finding something that fits me remotely enough to be comfortable only to find a rather large collection of dresses and female clothes. "What the actual fuck?" I go through them, noticing all of them are from brands that most would kill for and my eyes widen as I pause.

The hair on the back of my neck stands as I realize Jasper might have broken into the house. Maybe he knew where the key is because he stole them from someone. What if this was premeditated? He seems familiar enough, so what if he's been following me with a plan of taking me here? I don't even know where here is!

"Are you alright, darlin'?"

Gasping, I whip around and swallow thickly before deciding honesty is the best policy. "You're not a criminal, are you?"

"What?" A breathless chuckle fills the room, relaxing me. "Why would you think that?" Amused, Jasper leans on the door and I draw a shuddered breath.

"Because you have a dozen high fashion dresses here and unless you're married, it feels like you either broke in or prepared this for place for a really weird hostage situation." I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow to his cocky smirk. If he thinks I'm amusing, he should see me with my claws out. Might erase that confident smirk right off his face.

"It's my brother's cabin. His wife is very into fashion." Jasper explains and I furrow my eyebrows, wishing the earth would open and swallow me whole. "But if you want to role play, I'm not gonna put up a fight."

I'm not sure how he manages to make me feel so at ease with him, but I'm definitely feeling silly for questioning his motives. "Might take you up on that, Cowboy." I wink, watching his lopsided grin with a smirk of my own. He's a flirt. A fairly good one. Maybe some other girl would jump his bones, but my specialty is not fire. It's ice.

"I should change my clothes then." Nodding toward the door, I smile, "Unless you want to stay for the show?"

He meets my gaze not with shyness but with a blunt refusal to avert his gaze first. "Don't tempt me, darlin'." His voice is warm and rich; my heart beats faster than it's design specs should allow. Then it's silent for a moment, as if he's waiting for a response but I could hardly focus. As I blush, his look of bafflement becomes a shy smile.

"I'll leave you to it." With a curt nod, Jasper leaves the room and I exhale loudly, unaware I was holding my breath this entire time. I'm really giving my lungs a workout today.

Managing to find a suitable outfit, I join Jasper in the living room. The entire cabin is tiny, just enough for lovers to live in yet I'm baffled by a crib covered in the corner. Maybe his brother had a kid. Leaning on the doorway, I watch Jasper intently. Is he a man who would get along with kids? Would he want to have some?

"I can feel you starin', sweetheart."

Biting my lower lip to prevent a smile, I step forward. "I think I prefer darling."

He sits in a chair in front of the fire, some distance back, his long legs in front of him. Glancing over his shoulder, I notice a silent half-grin on his face. "I'll make sure to remember that."

Scratching my cheek nervously, I avert my gaze to the ground and press my lips together to avoid a smile. If I keep smiling and giggling, he'll surely think I've gone mad. It's a wonder he didn't think so by now.

Walking toward him, I pause once I'm a step away from his chair. He's changed his clothes already and the glorious muscles no longer show under his jumper. His thighs are accentuated by the jeans, making me wonder if it would be too improper to sit on his lap and lean back on his chest. The back of my head would rest on his shoulder, my lips pressing devout kisses along his jaw and his arms would wrap around me, holding me closer as if he's terrified of letting go.

"If you want my seat, I'll happily let you have it." Jasper breaks me out of my fantasy and I realize I've spent this whole time staring at him. If he didn't find me odd before, he must think I am mental now.

"No need. I'll sit here", I shuffle over to the sofa, tucking my hair behind my ears as I look at the fire. "I always loved fireplaces. They're kind of romantic." Closing my eyes, mentally face-palming, I wonder why I'm like this. I'm usually poised, always know what the right thing to say is, yet I can't seem to string a single sentence together without sounding weird since Jasper pulled me out of the ocean.

"I agree." Jasper speaks softly, glancing at me. "The way the light illuminates your lips, the way the flames dance in your eyes - it's breathtakingly beautiful."

Blinking slow, I remind myself to breathe as I find myself getting lost in his golden eyes. "Your eyes are like liquid fire. I fear the burn but I cannot look away." I admit, shamelessly so. Luckily for me, Jasper doesn't seem too disturbed by it.

"What's your favorite color?" I question, hoping to know more about the mystery man.

"My favorite color?" Jasper chuckles in disbelief, glancing at the fire before focusing on me once more. "No one's ever asked me that."

For a moment I frown, wondering how that could be true, yet something tells me he's telling the truth. His eyes are filled with obvious pain and hidden trauma glistened in the tiny haze of light that radiated off the small flickering flame of the fireplace.

"It's black. Like your hair. Like your eyes." His lips twitch, suppressing a smile. Oh, I wish I could tell him how much I enjoy his smile, how he should never hide it from me. "I'd guess yours is red?"

"Blue", I correct him, happy he finally got something wrong. "Like the sky...like freedom. Everchanging shades of blue that make up every part of our lives."

"What about the season?" Jasper notices me falter, asking me another question and I cannot help but smile at his kindness.

"Spring. New beginnings, nature coming back to life." Shrugging, I tilt my head and await his answer.

"I like autumn. It's colorful." Jasper pauses as thunder rumbles, reminding us there's a storm and a whole world outside this cabin.

Jasper has been nothing but sweet and hospitable, despite his flirting, I notice he's distant. There's something off about him I can't put my finger on. He's too perfect, it goes against laws of nature.

"You should probably get some rest." Jasper speaks up as if he can sense I'm growing suspicious and a little uneasy with the silence.

"Yeah", I breathe out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, "When will you rest?"

"Soon."

"I hope you're not a blanket hog", I chuckle, standing up. My smile falls as I realize he's not sure what I'm talking about. "You'll be joining me, right?"

Jasper smiles, more with his eyes than his lips and I lick mine to hide the unseemly thoughts his lips provoke. "I'm good on the sofa."

"I don't mind. The bed is large enough for both of us." Placing my hands on my hips, I purse my lips in hopes of him accepting, but he shakes his head. His hair is dry, golden curls frame his sharp jaw and I sigh. "You saved my life. The least I can do is let you have the bed."

"That's alright, darlin', I'll be fine out here. Wouldn't be a very good host if I took up all the space and hogged the covers, would I?" The reassuring smile lights up his face and I stare in awe. He isn't human, is he? I never saw such beauty before with so little effort. What seems mundane to him is the epitome of heavenly to me.

"Don't be afraid to join me if you change your mind", I sigh, walking behind his chair only to feel his hand wrap around my wrist as I nearly pass him by. His touch is icy, cold enough to make me gasp.

Pulling my hand up, his lips press a tender kiss upon the back of it and I'm stunned, praying my legs don't fail me. Perhaps this is what is meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within; it makes me want to feel how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands follow the curves of my body.

"Sweet dreams", he whispers, releasing my hand and I reluctantly pull back.

Biting my lower lip, I wrack my brain for a suitable word to say, but I can't even think properly. He has distorted my train of thought entirely.

"Goodnight, my hero." I walk toward the bedroom, painfully aware of his eyes on me.

"I thought I was a Cowboy." Jasper teases and I turn halfway around, chuckling.

"You are. A Cowboy gentleman."

Jasper's POV

As soon as Aurora is out of view, Jasper flees the cabin. It doesn't take him long to get back to the house, finding Carlisle at the door.

"You did good, my son." Carlisle pats him on the back, but Jasper is still out of it. He's terrified to draw a proper breath, aware her scent might cling to him. If he feels her, would he go back?

"He needs to hunt. Soon." Edward appears beside them, an understanding look upon in his eyes. "I'll help you. We all will."

"If I hurt her", Jasper begins, but Edward stops him.

"You won't."

"There's no guarantee", Jasper all but growls, his eyes black as the gold dwindles away and he can feel himself losing control.

"The fact that you saved her, more than once, means you are in control. You're doing better than I did with Bella." Edward reminds him and Jasper nods, calming down slightly. He's still tense, but Edward rushing off to Alaska when he met Bella definitely felt more unhinged than anything he did when he met Aurora.

But he doubts himself. "I almost killed her at the beach. When I pulled her out and the ocean stopped masking her scent...I almost killed her. The call of her blood is....intoxicating." Shaking his head, Jasper looks to Carlisle. "I brought her to the woods planning to drain her of her blood. I ran with her, prepared to do it, but when she opened her eyes I just...I couldn't."

"She's your blood singer, Jasper. It's normal to feel that way." Emmett steps out on the porch, a dark look passing his features. "I killed mine on sight. Aurora is lucky it's you, not me."

There are times Jasper wished he couldn't feel emotions, that he could easily block them, especially when Emmett remembers his kills and regret washes over him. Despite the bitter taste of remorse in his mouth, Jasper alleviates the suffering of his brother.

"I don't want to be around her." Jasper states, looking to Edward. "Just because your blood signer was your mate doesn't mean she's mine."

"Alice said", Emmett begins, pushing Jasper further than he should. He's already on edge, it's easy for him to snap.

"I know what Alice said", Jasper remarks, narrowing his eyes at his brother, "She can't be the one. No human can survive me."

"Aurora did. So far, she survived you and you're here looking for ways to keep her alive." Carlisle reasons, a reassuring smile on his lips. He's always believed in his sons more than they believed in themselves. Especially Jasper. He's much stronger than he gives himself credit for.

"Carlisle is right. You should feed and return to her. If Alice is right, do you really want to lose your mate because you're too afraid to try?" Edward pipes in, understanding him better than anyone. Not only can he hear the inner turmoil in Jasper, but he can sense he is drawn to the girl just as Edward was drawn to Bella. It's an unbreakable bond and even if he leaves, he will suffer greatly for it. They both will.

"I can protect her from anything, but", Jasper pauses, glancing at the direction he came from, "How can I keep her safe from myself? Every time I touched her, I was scared of breaking her bones or somehow drawing blood that would make me lose control."

"Practice." Carlisle explains, "A lot of practice." Edward adds with a pensive smile.

Part 8: Golden eyed family

Heaven only knows how I found myself drawn to another so fast after Paul. Something about Jasper reminds me of the old fashioned gentlemen who'd dance with their girl to nothing but a hum of their own making. I'm not sure if it's the near death experience that reminded me of the short life expectancy humans have, but I felt an instant connection with him. It can't be a coincidence, can it?

I wondered if I'd be alright after Paul, but I am. I'm still disappointed and angry at how things turned out between us, but he's barely an afterthought since yesterday. Paul and I had such chemistry, but he's complicated. Too complicated for a woman that ran from the same back home. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

With a sigh, I slip off my shirt, deciding to put on my clothes back. Whoever Jasper's sister in law is, she'd probably like her clothes back eventually. I know I would.

"Darlin', wo-", the voice stops and I turn with a gasp, frightened by his sudden appearance at the door. I'll admit I hoped to wake up by his side, but he really stayed on the couch. If it were anyone else, they'd join me but not Jasper.

"Morning, Cowboy." I wink, attempting to play it off. I'm praying my cheeks haven't reacted with a crimson telltale I'm embarrassed of his eyes on my body. It's ridiculous, isn't it? I've been almost naked in his arms less than twenty four hours ago, yet I'm self-conscious of my body now as I stand there in my bra.

He's quick to turn away and I swallow thickly, wondering if he's repulsed by me. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you're changing."

"It's fine. Not like you haven't seen me yesterday." I laugh it off, swiftly putting my clothes on to reduce the uncomfortable tension in the room. It's suffocating. "I'd tell you it's no biggie if you wanna sneak a peak, but I have a feeling the gentleman in you would adamantly refuse and probably be appalled by the suggestion."

A breathless chuckle escapes him and I smile, unable to resist the stupid grin that seems to appear every time he laughs or indicated he's enjoying my company. "I actually came to invite you to the main house for breakfast if you have the time."

"Main house?" I raise an eyebrow, tapping his shoulder with my left index finger. He turns on his head and we find each other face to face. I meet his gaze and hold my breath, in awe of the emotions swirling in his golden eyes. Suffering, loneliness, longing, desire; his eyes hold deep seated emotions and an inkling of hope he's trying his hardest to hold close.

"Yes. My family would love to meet you."

It's hard to tell, but I'm not really doing well. I've been looking for someone who'd see the same emotions in my eyes my whole life and with Jasper, I feel he does. For the first time ever, I feel understood. I pause, noticing the power behind those breathtaking eyes. The power that's as reckless as a tornado. His eyes flash. For a moment they look golden with warmth... and as dangerous as hell.

So why does it make me feel safer? I should run. I've seen that look in other men and all of them brought me to the point of nearly drowning in the ocean. But Jasper pulled me out. Maybe that's why I want to stay this time around.

"Are you sure they'd like a stranger barging into their house. I don't wanna impose." Tucking a strand of hair behind my left ear, I exhale and cast my gaze to his chest. The intensity of his gaze can be quite exhausting, intimidating.

Placing the tip of his cold index finger just under my chin, Jasper tilts my head up to look into my dark eyes. A soft smile on his lips gives me relief. "Not at all. They'd love to meet you and I'd love to spend more time with you."

With a subtle nod, I return his smile. "I hope you put something warmer on", I raise an eyebrow and glance at his hand as it drops, "Your hands are cold."

"They're always this cold." Jasper turns away, the smile on his face still present as he begins to walk out and I follow, barely catching up with his strides.

It didn't take us long to arrive, the walk mostly filled with Jasper's talk about the trees and flowers around us. I never realized how interesting biology can be when someone handsome speaks of it.

"I should warn you." Jasper pauses, folding his hands behind his back as he leans down, "My family is very..." He trails off, trying to find the right words before continuing, "Intrusive. They might ask a lot of questions you don't need to answer."

"I have nothing to hide", shrugging I continue forth and glance back at Jasper. "Are you coming?"

Smiling, Jasper nods, "Lead the way."

"You're not nervous, are you?" Jasper questions as I pause at the steps, gulping.

"Maybe a little." I lick my lips, staring at the door intently as Jasper walks up the few stairs and opens the door.

"Don't worry, we're all trained not to bite our guests...at least not without asking for permission first." Jasper smirks and I giggle, finding his statement odd. It's the first sexual innuendo he's made and I can honestly say I'd like to hear more. There's something about angelic looking men who have a little of the devil in their words.

"Welcome", a woman in her thirties walks out and my eyes widen. Not only is she drop dead gorgeous, but her eyes are golden like Jasper's too. "I hope you like waffles." She smiles and my heart pounds against my ribcage like an animal trapped with no way out.

"You must be Jasper's sister", I smile politely, walking up to the door on wobbly legs. I can't stop staring at her perfection.

"Mother, but you flatter me. My name is Esme Cullen." She goes in for the hug and I stiffen as her cold arms wrap around me shortly after.

What kind of a genepool is this? Cold, pale, angelic beauty with golden eyes?

"I see my wife has already welcomed you", another blonde man approaches us from the left. His kind smile is inviting, but now I realize where Jasper got his looks from. His eyes are golden as well. They must be wearing contacts, right?

"I'm Carlisle", he outstretches a hand as Esme releases me from her hug and I take it, giving it a slight squeeze. Glancing at Jasper, I notice his pensive gaze as he stands beside me - close enough to make me feel protected, but too far for me to reach for his hand for comfort.

"I believe Jasper explained we already ate, but there's plenty for you to eat." Carlisle makes eye contact with Jasper and I swallow thickly, licking my lips.

"He did not."

"I assume you'd decline if I did." Jasper speaks up and I narrow my eyes at him and the cocky smirk he flashes in return.

"I'm grateful for the invitation." I smile at Mr. and Mrs. Cullen as they both seem like quite literally the angel spawn on Earth.

"Wonderful. You can leave your coat with Jasper and he'll take you to the kitchen when you're ready." Esme and Carlisle give Jasper a fleeting glance before leaving us alone and I finally let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"We'll see how grateful after you've met all my siblings." Jasper speaks lowly with a drawl, bringing back the accent he tries hard to hide. Sometimes it's gone entirely, yet it creeps back in every time he lowers his tone or speaks faster.

"How many are we talking?" I raise an eyebrow as I place my coat on the rack.

"A lot. We were adopted, in case you're questioning Esme and Carlisle's age."

"I was going to question the plastic surgeon they might be sharing." I chuckle, covering my mouth instantly. I didn't want someone to hear and take it the wrong way.

"Well, if you survive my sister Rosalie, you'll survive the rest of 'em." Jasper places a hand at the small of my back and my breath hitches in my throat. It's electrifying, breathtaking and addictive - his touch is like an adrenaline rush.

It would have soothed me if I wasn't already a nervous wreck. Being around Jasper helps, but I'm drowning in anxious thoughts and I cannot help but wonder if him bringing me over is just his gentleman side coming out or if it's a sign he'd like to keep me in his life longer than a single night.

I hope it's the latter.

"Oh, what did you tell the poor girl! She looks terrified!" A teasing voice comes from my side and I turn left, noticing a large man with an equally teasing smirk. He winks and I muster an awkward smile, giving him a small wave.

"I'm Emmett", he steps closer, leaning until Jasper holds out an arm before me like a barrier. "The handsome brother", but he doesn't seem affected by Jasper's actions as I do. His brother is close enough for me to note his ethereal beauty and golden hues and I'm not sure why I'm surprised, but I'm certain they're all wearing contacts now. It's a little enough to answer some of the questions I've had.

Glancing up at Jasper, I notice his face had darkened. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are fixed on Emmett. His body is tense, enough for me to worry too.

"I'm Aurora", introducing myself with a confidence I'm mostly faking now, I turn to the table and notice a lot more of gorgeous people with golden eyes staring at me. Giving them a small, awkward wave, I step closer to them only to feel Jasper's hand move to my hip.

Letting out a shuddered breath, I clear my throat, "Thank you for the gracious invitation."

"Jasper insisted." A blonde from the far end of the table speaks up with a near scowl on her flawless, perfectly sculpted face and I frown, swallowing my spit before I choke on it.

"Oh", I have never felt as uncomfortable as I do now and I've had my share of awfully uncomfortable luncheons.

"Don't listen to Rosalie, she was just as intimidating when I first came to the house", another one joins the table and I glance at her appearance. Her clothing choices are sophisticated, much like the ones I've seen in the closet back at the cabin I slept in last night. She's a timeless beauty with her long, brown hair falling effortlessly down her back with her pale skin contrasting it. She wears a sympathetic smile, perfectly paired with a comforting, supportive look in her jantar eyes. "She's all bark and no bite."

"Besides, we're more than happy to have you here." Esme adds to lessen the tension and I let out a short exhale.

Jasper moves toward the table, his hand abandoning my hip and I feel my heart physically sink with the loss of his cold touch. It's weird, I've never been a fan of anything cold, but I'd like nothing more than to feel his icy fingers dance along my skin.

Coughing, the quiet one next to the brunette widens his eyes as our gazes meet and I'm not sure why, but I could have sworn he knew where my mind went.

"I'm Bella and this is my husband Edward." The brunette waves me over, to the seats available beside her and I oblige. Jasper is quick to take the seat closest to Bella, making sure I know it by pulling out the chair right beside the one he clearly intended for himself.

"Thanks." Allowing him to seat me at the edge of the table, alone, I lick my lips and glance at the picture perfect family. I really should get some beauty tips from them. If New York gossip sites love me now, imagine how they'd be if I looked like that.

Everyone's staring at me, watching every move I make and while I'd usually write it off as paranoia, none of them are even blinking. "Do you want any toppings?" Jasper questions and I flinch, not even realizing how quiet it got. The only audible sound is my heart beating and my inner screams.

The one besides Bella, Edward, flinches and I furrow my eyebrows, pursing my lips. I swear he's the oddest of them all.

"Aurora?" Jasper tilts his head forward, blocking my view of Edward and I blink fast, hoping Jasper doesn't think I like his brother or something.

"Yes!" My voice is high and pitchy, making me pause as I chuckle and so does Emmett. "I'd love some maple syrup." I exclaim as Rosalie chuckles dryly.

"Someone needs to go get it out of the pantry. We have a guest to entertain."

"I'll go." Emmett volunteers and Jasper nods, subtly enough I'd have missed it if I wasn't already focused on him.

Leaning forward, Carlisle is kind enough to carry the conversation, "So, Aurora, where are you from?"

Raising both eyebrows, I swallow the food, "New York. I'm here strictly on business." I add for good measure. I'd rather not have Jasper or anyone else know I was foolish enough to think my heart took me here. It was nothing but an overly romanticized moment and it is over faster than I thought possible.

"And how long do you plan on staying?" The blonde, Rosalie, perks up, seemingly happy with the prospect of my quick departure. She smiles for the first time ever as Emmett walks into the room and I realize he's probably the only one capable of turning the intimidating glare she pierces me with into a gentle gaze.

"Here you have it." Emmett winks, placing the maple syrup before me. The bottle isn't open, the price tag still attached.

"Thank you, Emmett."

Emmett nods in response, moving to Rosalie's side and I smile, envious of the way he naturally gravitates to her. His hands clasp her shoulders, his lips press a quick peck to her temple and they're both smiling, both incredibly in love with one another and I cannot help but feel saddened. It's something I've always wanted - someone to love and someone who loves me back. Simple yet unattainable for people like me.

"I'm not sure when I'm leaving." I remember Rosalie asking, "I'm in the process of finding a place to stay, actually."

"You should stay here." A light, girly voice chimes in and I turn to the source only to find a dainty girl in a stunning black dress. Her hair is short and dark, only accentuating her perfectly chiseled cheekbones. Her eyes are molten gold as well, probably a sibling too. Adoptive sibling. Her smile is as light as her tone, matching the gentle gaze she set upon me.

"I'm Alice and I have a feeling we're going to be great friends."

Raising my eyebrows, I clear my throat and grab a napkin to wipe my mouth. "Nice to meet you Alice." Turning to the rest of them, "All of you, but I really should be going. I'm grateful for the offer, but I cannot accept it."

"Why?" Jasper speaks up and my heart races, as if the sound of Jasper's voice alone is enough to render me powerless. For that reason alone, I must leave.

There were far too many men who could make me feel powerless. I don't want another one on my hands. I want a man that makes me feel powerful. Paul gave me that feeling, if only for twenty four hours or so.

"Because I have plenty of money not to inconvenience anyone and I'd rather be closer to the city." Well, it's not a complete lie.

"Well, if you can stay for a lemonade, we'd appreciate it." Bella stands and I draw a deep breath, licking my bottom lip while contemplating. I mean, what's one drink, right? It's not very polite to dine and dash.

"One drink can't hurt." Edward tilts his head to avoid Jasper's, making brief eye contact with me.

Narrowing my eyes at him ever so slightly, I purse my lips and nod. "Sure. One glass."

Cullen's POV

"She's definitely special." Emmett raises an eyebrow while Aurora and Bella talk in the backyard, turning to Edward. "Did she figure out I had to speed to the store for the syrup?"

"She questioned why the bottle was new and had a price tag, but nothing else." Edward responds. "She does like to scream a lot." He turns to Jasper with an exasperated look on his face. "A lot."

Chuckling, Jasper raises an eyebrow, "I felt your pain."

"She likes you." Edward sighs, "A little too much. She's worried about it and wants to run for the hills."

"Worried how?" Jasper folds his arms, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Your presence affects her. She fears you make her powerless and she hates that feeling. She's infatuated, but fighting it with every fiber of her being. She's also wondering what plastic surgeon we go to."

"We gotta write that one down", Emmett cackles, running off to find his little joke book with all the accumulated comments he's heard humans make on his family's impressive looks.

"Anything else? Maybe something that will help me keep her around." Jasper's annoyance is easily detectable, even without mind reading abilities. His eyes follow Aurora and her frail looking body. She's incredibly beautiful, like a flower in the eye of the hurricane. If he makes one wrong move, just adds a little more pressure than necessary, she'd break under his touch and Jasper doesn't know if it's something he'd be able to live with.

In all his years, he never believed he'd be friendly with a human, let alone crave one in every possible way. Draining her would be the easy way out. Her blood calls to him like a siren's song, drawing him in, but the essence of her being is calling out to whatever is left of his heart and soul.

Alice said he'd find her, his real mate and he didn't understand it then. If anything, Jasper always believed Alice was his mate, but this feeling? This all-consuming need to protect Aurora, to hold her close? The desire to have her whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he kisses her pretty lips? It felt vastly different than it did with Alice.

Jasper owes Alice his gratitude. He owes her his life. He loves her with all his heart, he's just not in love with her.

"Aurora had some...colorful thoughts of you two", Edward clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable as Jasper turns to him in confusion, a ghost of a smile upon his lips as he realizes what Edward is hinting to.

"Oh."

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly." A breathless chuckle escapes Edward, but soon, his face hardens and his eyes look toward Bella.

"We have company." Edward appears beside Bella in seconds.

Jasper's hand slides over Aurora's lower back, safely pulling her behind him so quickly she loses her breath in fright.

"What are you doing?" Aurora gasps, turning to Jasper only to find him standing firm with his back to her face.

"Where is she?!" A growl-like voice echoes through the backyard and Aurora frowns, recognizing it instantly.

"Paul?" Her frown deepens, tilting her head so she sees around Jasper's protective stance.

"Aurora? Thank God." Paul smiles, rushing toward her when the rest of the Cullens step forth and she realizes something weird is happening.

"Not another step." Jasper warns, his hands forming fists at his sides as he strides forward and Aurora's heart sinks with the sight.

"She's with me." Paul growls, "You took her from our land."

"I think it's better if we head inside", Esme tries but I shake my head.

"I saved her life." Jasper rolls his shoulders back, taking a step closer to Paul who seems ready to get physical and Aurora can't help it.

"Can we just calm down and talk like people, please?" She speaks up, loudly enough to make sure they hear her over their macho displays of power.

"Come here." Paul turns his gaze to her, outstretching an arm with his palm open in anticipation.

Jasper slaps his arm away, getting into his face, "She's not going anywhere."

"You gonna stop me? Huh?" Paul's lips form a cold smile, one forged in anger.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding. Just calm down and we can talk it out." Aurora's voice is shaky, unable to hide her true emotions. She's scared of what might happen and she's confused about the reason why.

"I will not let you take her." Jasper stands his ground and that's when it happens. In a fraction of a second, Paul's inability to keep control finally breaks to the surface and while Aurora wasn't close to be in danger, especially not with Jasper speeding toward her to act as a shield, she was close enough to see it happen.

Shifting can be traumatic for humans and while she always believed she's stronger than most humans, her mind saw Paul - the man she truly liked, had turned into an oversized wolf in a blink of an eye. She smiles, almost in disbelief, but before a single word passes her lips, she finds herself slipping straight into Jasper's arms, darkness overtaking her sight.

"Shit." Emmett raises an eyebrow, "Really would have bet on her kicking all our asses instead of fainting."

"Her mind couldn't take it. It's a normal, human reaction." Carlisle explains.

"Bella didn't faint." Jacob and Renesmee walk out of the woods, Jacob winking at Bella.

"I already knew about vampires. What's one more weird, unexplainable thing?" She shrugs it off, looking toward the woods.

"Paul, you should really call the pack here and shift to humans. The poor girl has had enough of a shock. We'll have a barbecue and talk as she suggested." Carlisle steps in, realizing he has to diffuse the situation. The last time the wolves came, they were fighting for their lives. This time, most of them are already in human form, only a few still shift.

"What am I supposed to tell her when she opens her eyes?" Jasper's gaze is fixed on Aurora's pale face, holding her weightless body close to him with as much gentleness he could muster. Even without her being conscious, he can sense the panic inside.

Pushing some of it out, Jasper entices positive emotions within, hoping it lessens the shock.

"I think you'll figure it out. You're already doing good by her." Alice taps his shoulder lightly, reeling in her usual affections. Her vision came true, once again. If she was honest, she hoped she'd have more time to get used to the idea of Jasper loving someone other than her, but he found his mate. She'll find hers eventually as well.

"What if she hates me?" Jasper whispers, fearful of losing her.

Alice smiles knowingly. She can see some of the struggles they'll face in the future. The road ahead is filled with pain and still, she saw a lot of happiness too. "She won't."

Part 9: While she slept

Paul paces in front of the house, his paws already aching. It's a common misconception that they're indestructible, that they don't feel pain or that they don't get tired. He may be mythical, but a part of his is still human and the human inside is dreading every tick of the clock Aurora is unconscious.

"You need to calm down." Jared hisses under his breath, coming closer to his longtime best friend with a wary expression on his usually smiley face. "You're making them and us nervous. Everyone shifted back already."

Noticing Paul stop and look up where he could see Jasper standing at the window of the room they laid her down, Jared shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure he's not gonna kill her, okay? You have to shift back before she wakes up and you still have paws instead of hands."

Huffing, Paul sits and gives Jared a pointed look. If it were that easy, Paul would never shift again. If he could, he'd cast that part of him away and take back the reigns. Unfortunately for Paul, no matter how hard he tries, his temper overpowers him and he wished he could chuck it off to his shapeshifting ability, but it's something he's had since he was little. There was always anger he couldn't control within, ever since his parents divorced when he was barely seven years old.

He has lost a lot because of it. Paul hoped he wouldn't lose Aurora too.

"He crossed to our land!"

Sighing, Jared pinches the bridge of his nose as he hears the argument start in the backyard between Embry and Emmett most likely. Paul glances their way, but refuses to move. He'll never be able to calm down enough to shift back this way.

"If he didn't, she'd be dead!" Rosalie's voice snaps Paul's head in their direction again, finding it odd the blonde would involve herself and not Emmett as Paul assumed as well as Jared. "Jasper saved her life and he protected her when you couldn't!"

"And how many times did he wish he could stick his fangs in her?!" Paul questions in his mind, still uneasy with Jasper's presence around Aurora. He blames himself for it, but he cannot allow his guilt to throw him off. For her.

"Does it matter when she's unharmed?" Edward speaks up in response to Paul's thinking, making Bella frown.

"Why does he even care? He has an imprint."

Jacob runs a hand through his hair, biting his lower lip. "Yeah, uhhh...That didn't quite work out."

"How? Aren't they soulmates or something?" Bella presses, earning herself a low growl from Paul who'd rather be as far away as possible.

"No. Imprints aren't romantic. Nessie and I aren't." Jacob reminds her and she nods, tilting her head to cast a fleeting glance at Paul who draws deep breaths.

When he's triggered, it is so very hard to have self control. He is doing the actions, it is his behavior but feels as if the gas pedal got stuck down and in that acceleration, in that momentum, the steering wheel gets all jammed up too. It's all fight or fight and it's so disappointingly primitive but Paul can't override it unless he has a friend to help him, to guide, to release that emotional pressure so that he can take back the steering and make good choices. Without someone to love and be loved, Paul loses control and he's incapable of finding peace.

For Paul, Aurora felt like peace. She felt like a sliver of control he's been looking to cling to and in that hope, he thought there was finally a solution- he'd be able to stop shifting, grow older with his friends and family, have a normal life. Losing her before he can even say she was his to hold made him so much worse off than he was when Rachel decided she wanted to be with someone else.

Jasper stood at the window with his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are downcast, focused on the wolf who is drowning in guilt and anger and neither seem to relent. It would be so much easier if he could help him and thus help himself, but some emotions need to be felt. Perhaps Paul would benefit from them in time.

There is a storm within Jasper just as strong as in Paul, but his emotions aren't of guilt nor anger, but fear and worry. He's afraid and worried of the consequences of both losing Aurora and having her. The first he'd live with, she'd at least be alive and somewhere in the white world, changing it into a better place than it would be without her. And if she stayed and allowed him to love her as a vampire would love a mate, she'd be in constant danger - not by some unpredictable element, but him and his family. Any moment, one of them could snap and kill her. He wouldn't be able to live with that.

Turning to her, Jasper could have sworn his stone heart cracked. She's so beautiful. He doesn't really know her, yet he feels knows so much about her that he can't tear his eyes away.

There are as many kinds of beauty as there are leaves in the autumnal forest. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her lips. But her eyes, her dark eyes showed her soul. They were a dark heaven, an ocean of hopeless grief. As Jasper first looked into her eyes he knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them he read clearly that she would fight to the very last breath for her life. She would not let the world break her. Sure she would cry in the confines of her room, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion. Passion that made her beautiful.

She's confident on the outside, but Jasper saw her insecurities too. He could see she's defiant, witty, incredibly sensual and while he never thought it would happen, she proved to him that time can stand still - even for a vampire. He knows she's the girl Alice told him would be the one. She will change the way he looks at life and love.

"Paul has agreed to keep his cool." Jacob leans on the doorframe, eyeing Jasper with a raised eyebrow. "As long as she's not missing a single hair from her head."

"She'll never come to harm by my hand, Jacob." Jasper glances at the young wolf with a solemn look in his eyes. "I'd rather be ripped apart by Paul himself than hurt her."

"You can't swear by it. If she were to bleed, you'd lose control." Paul's voice is low, dark. It's enough for Aurora's mind to grasp to reality.

"Not when it's her." Jasper stands firm, truly believing it. If there is something he'd never allow, it's to be the reason behind her demise. "She means everything."

"You don't even know her." Paul snarls, "I", planting the palm of his right hand on his chest, Paul continues, "Do! I know her. I've felt her, held her, kissed every inch of her skin!" Smirking as he notices Jasper's eyes harden, Paul steps closer, "I had her putty in the palm of my hands and she loved it. So you can hop off whatever fantasy you have about being with Aurora, because she is mine."

Holding his tongue, Jasper narrows his eyes at Paul and the possessive words he spilled so carelessly. He speaks of Aurora as if she's his property, as if he could bend her to his will - break her like a horse, as they used to say in his hometown. It irks him in the worst possible way, the inner desires to act on his instinct fighting its way to the surface.

"Do tell her that. And let me watch when you do." Jasper winks, grinning. Then he lowers his voice and leans closer, "She's not a thing to own. Regardless of what you believe, she is free to choose what's best for her and I don't think either of us fit the box."

"That's why I'll show her I am the choice she should make." Paul shrugs, turning to her. "She may be important to you, but she's my saving grace."

"She's my mate. I believe that trumps whatever misogynistic claim you think you have on her." Jasper cracks, raising voice and in that instant, Aurora gasps.

Frightened and aware they've heard her, she opens her eyes and sits back against the headboard.

"It's alright", Jacob steps toward her with arms up and open to prove he's not a threat. Her heart hammering inside her chest drew everyone's attention, aware she's awake.

"The show is starting." Rosalie chuckles, sitting back in her chair.

"That's not okay." Seth speaks up, sending Rosalie a judgmental look before looking to Carlisle.

"Seth is right. Either support Jasper or don't say anything at all."

Happy with Carlisle's words, Seth's cheeky grin appears and Rosalie can't help but glower at him.

"I'm actually rooting for them." Emmett pipes in.

Bella chuckles, "You always had a weak spot for humans."

"Just the cool ones." Emmett winks. High-fiving Bella, they both decide to go upstairs, hoping to diffuse the situation.

It's not easy to deal with the supernatural, Bella knows that. Even she struggled with it to a degree, but she knew Aurora might have a harder time accepting the world she entered. Most humans cannot fathom the existence of vampires and shapeshifters, but Bella knew Aurora would eventually acclimatize. Adjusting may be hard, but there is a reason she was seen in Alice's visions and there is a reason she drew the attention of both species. After everything she survived, Bella trusts Alice and her visions.

"We won't harm you", Jacob reaches for Aurora's hand but she recoils.

Pure terror surged through her veins, icy daggers straight to the heart. The fear she'd felt in the ocean was nothing compared to how she feels now. Now she feels as if she's being held underwater, gasping for air but not being able to do a damn thing about it. She can't help but think that maybe it would be better if she drowned. At least then the nightmare would be over. But this, whatever it is, it's real and she's surrounded by people that aren't really people.

"It's going to be alright", Jasper's warm tone brings her attention to him, his lips. She never quite figured out if the beauty of his lips was more their softness or the association with the words he spoke. Either way, his lips and voice eased her fears.

"Don't fucking control her!" Paul growls, glaring at Jasper. Jacob jumps between the two, leaving open a path.

Noticing it, Aurora flings herself toward the door, narrowly missing Emmett and Bella who frown, sharing a confused look.

"Umm, is she supposed to be running away?" Bella questions, seeing all three of them stop and turn to her with wide eyes while Emmett chuckles,

"Shit!"

Part 10: Run

I liked running as a teenager. Running was a vent, a way to overcome all emotions I had been forced to push under the surface. When I'd run, when my soles felt the earth and gained their own rhythm, my thoughts became lyrics - my own original track had the chance to play for its audience of one. It became an escape from reality, from the cruelty of life and all I was supposedly blessed with. But this isn't running.

Tears blind me and I turn, running as quickly as my short legs can carry me, bolting through the unmarked forest trail, quickening my pace to an all out sprint. The crunching noise of my bare feet against the leaves is drowned out by an echo that matched my heart throbbing inside my chest with the thick fear I feel as I run. I feel the screaming of my lungs and the will of my muscles to go far beyond what exercise could ever demand. This is the body and brain on full survival mode and it is nothing but pain.

With each footfall a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee, ankle to knee. My heart beats frantically, it's all or nothing. Fail and my whole body will pay the price. They know the area better than I, they're fast and I don't even know what else beyond their ability to somehow become giant wolves. So, I run. I run faster and faster. Twigs scraped past my face, entangling themselves into my hair. My feet slip and I almost tumble over, more time I cannot afford.

All at once my foot ceases to travel forwards and the scenery starts to blur like a poorly shot action photograph. The colors swirl and blend as my head becomes tilted toward the forest floor. I can't open my voice to scream, fear, paralyzing my body.

"Ugh", I grumble, wheezing as my burning lungs gasp for air. My legs feel numb and unsteady, painfully sore. My throat feels dry, so uncomfortably dry. Turning on my back, I feel a burning sensation on my leg. Swiping my palm across my thigh, I raise it up to my face only to see crimson - I'm bleeding.

Heaving, I close my eyes for a moment. I'm not sure what I'm running from, but I'm sure I miss being bored in my big apartments, drinking champagne all day while spending my father's money online.

"Hello there."

A sudden, strange voice jolts me back to reality and I gasp, sitting up instantly. I kick my legs out and push myself away from the man as he stares at me with a Cheshire grin. It's unsettling how his eyes seem to rack over my body, pausing at my injured thigh with interest. He licks his lips, slowly, before stepping closer to me.

"Stay back!" I shout, pushing myself further from him until I hit an obstacle. Quickly glancing at it, I realize I'm backed against a tree trunk, my legs still feeling as if they would fall off from the unexpected sprinting. I'm not even sure if I could stand if I have to run again.

"Why would I do that, little sheep?" The man chuckles, amused with me. He cocks his head to the side, approaching me.

"It's enough." I hold out a hand, palm open toward him. It's stupid really, as if my hand would stop him. He's tall, burly and from the unsettling vibes he's giving, I'm convinced he has no good intentions.

"You're a rare sight, do you know that? A legend, really." The man purses his lips, crouching to eye level and my eyes widen as I finally see his red eyes. "I've heard of it, but to see it? To smell it?" He smirks, leaning in with a malicious glint in the blood pools his eyes are made of.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Defensive, I pull my legs up to my chest as he reaches out to touch my bleeding wound.

"Your blood, of course."

In a blink of an eye, his hand is wrapped around my neck and I'm gasping for air. A choked cry for help forced itself up my throat, and I feel a drop run down my cheek. Grabbing onto his hand, I try to sink my nails into his skin, to hurt him enough for the pressure to let up and allow me to take a proper breath, but it doesn't work. My heart is hammering, helplessly screaming for oxygen as adrenaline forces it to go faster, quicker, to supply my brain with blood it needs to survive.

As my vision blurs, I feel relief. The hand is gone, I'm wheezing in a failed attempt to catch my breath. Gripping my throat, I feel as I fall to my side, coughing uncontrollably as a hand sets on my back. It's warm, running up and down my spine as I blindly reach for something to hold on.

I hear muffled voices, drowned out by the pulsating in my ears from the panic that's been tormenting my body. And as I heave, a cold hand rests upon mine. It's familiar, enough to remind me of the initial reason why I was running, but I'm not scared. If anything, I'm feeling safer.

"She'll be fine son. Leave." I hear Carlisle's voice and flinch, trying to crawl away but the warm hand on my back becomes a pair of arms meant to cage me.

I'm picked off the ground and held close to someone's chest. "It's alright, I'll help you."

Blinking my eyes open, I gulp as I realize my vision is blurred. I notice a faint glow of golden hair and shapes of what must be really large dogs, but my conscience is slipping. My eyelids are heavy, swallowing is becoming increasingly difficult.

"Carlisle, she might be crashing!" A panicked voice startles me and still, I can't fight. Not anymore.

"Get her back to the house."

Momentarily, my vision clears, enough to know I'm among Cullens and Paul's friends again. I'm back where I was running from.

"She's struggling to breathe."

I need time to make some sense of all I've seen, to try and justify it as a latent hallucination from nearly drowning. It must be it, right? Supernatural doesn't exist. It can't be real.

"Her throat is swelling", Carlisle's voice is soothing. I sigh, closing my eyes in resignation.

"Go Jacob!" The familiar southern accent makes my heart jump and I try to open my eyes to see him again, but to no avail. Everything is fuzzy, I see nothing at all. My consciousness is floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. My heartbeats pound loudly, echoing in my ears, alongside fading pleas for help. Feeling in my body drains away until finally all is black.

3rd person POV

Arms folded on his chest, Jasper remained leaned against the tree where Aurora was found. He cannot make himself go to her, anywhere close to her while she's bleeding and in pain. Jasper needed her to be safe and she is safe with his family, but he doesn't feel she's safe with him around.

He's staring at the blood spilled from her veins beneath his feet, the sweet smell addictive and inviting. A part of him is tearing to the surface in hope of tasting, just a single drop, but another part of him is just as feral but for a good cause. That part of him wants to feel the burn of his desire to feed until he remembers that losing her would be a far worse pain.

"You should be there with her." Edward speaks, arriving to comfort Jasper who could comfort anyone but himself. What a curse his gift is. He had fallen farther than Edward ever saw him fall before. There is no light in his black eyes, his grief is evident and his thoughts are heavy enough to make anyone depressed.

"She's going to want you there." Edward tries, but Jasper scoffs.

"I'm the reason she's in this mess." Fixing his rage on Edward, Jasper turns to him. "I am why she ran! I felt her fear and I felt the terror in her when we found her! I should have just left her on the beach and ran!"

"Didn't she choose to come with you?" Edward challenges, "Isn't a choice all we can truly offer them?" Not too long ago, Edward only had a choice to offer to his own mate and he knows the difficulties of a mate bond with a human and still, it was worth it in the end. Edward had no doubt about it.

"She wouldn't choose it if she knew what she chose." Jasper groans, punching a hole in the tree he was leaning on.

"We need to find a way to cover her scent. Even I'm having a hard time with it." Edward looks to the blood infusing the ground with weary eyes and a somber mood. Perhaps it's coming from Jasper, unintentionally sharing his own emotions.

Growling under his breath, Jasper steps closer to Edward, making him scoff.

"I'm not planning on repaying the favor for Bella." Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks at his brother relaxing a little with the statement. It was meant to be a joke, but Jasper clearly doesn't feel up for any jokes.

"Where is Paul?" Jasper leans down, thinking how to rid of the blood too.

"Beside her. Holding her hand. Carlisle injected her with corticosteroids to reduce the inflammation, something for the pain and dressed the wound."

Nodding, Jasper digs his hand in the ground, pulling out the dirt stained with her blood. "Maybe he would be good for her...If he doesn't phase and kill her first." Shaking his head, he pauses. He never felt weaker, more human than he did when he saw her paling, choking under the nomad's hand. He was enjoying torturing her to her last breath. Jasper regrets killing him so quickly, he should have suffered. "He's too dangerous for her. Out of all of them, she had to go and take the most temperamental one?"

"You can't force anything on her. I tried with Jacob and it backfired. Take it one day at a time, one problem at a time. Like this blood." Edward grabs some of the dirt with his hands too, "Let's toss it in the ocean and hide her scent. If other vampires smell it, they'll come looking for her and we can't let that happen."

"I'll help", Emmett joins, already digging out soil, "She's family as far as I'm concerned."

"It's been a day", Rosalie appears, digging her hands into the dirt as well - reluctantly. "Edward had the decency of spending a month with Bella before imposing her on us."

"A mate is a mate", Bella stops beside Jasper, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "And yours will be just fine. She's a fighter."

"She'll be fine." Alice comes too, giving Jasper reassurance he needed.

Nodding, he looks around at his family holding hands full of dirt soaked in blood and none of them are even flinching. He's not flinching either. They did this once with Bella, they're more prepared now and if they are so willing to protect Aurora, to keep her around, Jasper is too. He knows he can't just push her away and hope everything turns out fine. It doesn't work that way - it didn't work that way for Bella and Edward. He can't fight it, he doesn't want to.

But Paul has decided the same, unbeknownst to Jasper. He could care less about mate bonds and what that might entail. Aurora and he share a connection he never shared with anyone but his imprint and that wasn't his choice. Aurora is more than a one night stand or a rich benefactor willing to help the school in La Push. She's worth the fight.

"You managed to shift for her." Jacob notes, not hiding his surprise.

"It's not a big deal." Paul grumbles, keeping his hand in hers. He hoped she could feel his warmth. Maybe it would comfort her.

"It's a huge deal." Jacob shrugs, "But you can pretend otherwise. You've never been able to shift in these situations, yet you're here with her."

Rolling his eyes, Paul turns sideways to throw Jacob a glare. "It's been ten years, Jacob. I'm not the angry teenager I used to be."

"No, but you are the only one who still can't control his phasing. You and I both know that you managed to control it to be in this room, to be there when she wakes up. You care about her." Jacob walks closer, holding out a beer for Paul. "Rachel couldn't help you calm down enough and she was your imprint. So, this brings up questions."

"Rachel couldn't help me because she never gave a fuck about me." Paul snaps, spitting as his disgust fuels his words. "I was willing to do anything for her and she still cheated and left me for another. Aurora was willing to do everything for me and I fucked up because my imprint decided to be jealous for the night and pull me away."

"I'm not saying what she did wasn't fucked up, but you chose to leave without explanations. Aurora was deeply hurt because you chose to hurt her." Jacob retorts as he takes a seat beside Paul. They never saw eye to eye, but Jacob will always see Paul as his brother. He could never leave him when he's suffering.

"I know, but how does one tell a girl of wolves and vampires and an imprint I will always have to prioritize?"

"Well, cat's out of the bag now, so you might as well explain everything to her. If you don't, Jasper will fill all those pesky holes in the story and you might end up on the short end of the stick." Jacob turns to the door, making sure no one's there. "You have to be honest and ask for forgiveness."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Licking his lips, Jacob lifts his eyebrows, "Jasper will win."

"He'll kill her." Paul frowns, trying to keep himself calm because the thought of his Aurora ever being touched by that vampire made his blood boil. She's his.

"Worse. He'll turn her into one of them."

Pressing his lips in a thin line, Paul exhales loudly through his nose. "I won't let him."

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Revolution Theme, Part 2: War of 1812

READ PART 1 HERE

Wow! Thanks @wdway! Love all this!

You’re right that that the Crossing of the Delaware painting makes a lot more sense, now. It also made me think of the more recent pilgrim paintings we’ve seen the past few years. I think we can work those in as well. The pilgrims were somewhat revolutionary in their actions. Not so much in a massive war or battle sort of way, but they left England (yes, Britain) to find freedoms their mother country wasn’t willing to give them. Which is revolutionary in its way.

But more to the point, that was the first step that would eventually lead to a war for freedom between Britain and the American colonies. So, you could see them as the precursor to the revolution. So, it makes sense to use that painting for TF and TWD right now, because what’s been happening the last season or 2 is the precursor to the final, big revolution.

When you got into talking about 2 revolutions, that makes tons of sense as well, and I totally agree.

When you talked about the white house and library of congress being burnt in 1812, about six things came to mind, lol.

When Eugene was at the Sanctuary (which I 100% believe foreshadows the final revolution, Beth, and what Eugene’s role will be in it) he played the 1812 Overture when he did the science experiment for Negan’s wives. (Including Amber, who looked like Beth and Tanya, who had a lot of Beth’s dialogue with Eugene). I’ve kind of low-key obsessed over that song and why they used it, but other than foreshadowing a final battle with Eugene as I’ve already said, it was hard to connect anything more specific.

The 1812 Overture was not actually written about the War of 1812. It was written in celebration of Napoleon’s retreat from Russia. Basically, he tried to invade Moscow early in 1812 but failed miserably and eventually had to retreat. Not so much because of being out-fought, but more because of weather, illness, lack of supplies for the army, etc.

Now, that’s not the same thing you mentioned in the British fighting Napoleon before turning their attention to the American colonists, but the link is still there. Napoleon/Russia>1812 Overture>Napolean/Britain>Britain/American Colonies. See what I mean? So, the idea of two wars or a war on two fronts really makes sense.

I’ve been trying to find out if the 1812 Overture has a d.c. al coda in it. I don’t think it does, but I’m having a hard time finding the sheet music online. You can find it, of course, but often it’s blurry or watermarked in such a way that it’s hard to read, and that’s because they want you to buy it to remove the watermark. I’ll keep looking.

But I do know it has a coda. Maybe not a d.c. al coda, but a coda of some kind. In fact, while I’m still not sure until I can clearly see the sheet music, from what I’ve read others saying, the final, super-loud, exuberant part of the song that’s often used in U.S. Independence Day celebrations IS the coda. And it represents Russia winning the war over Napoleon. Coincidence?

So, Napoleon fought many wars on many fronts. There’s that. But as you said, the British first fought Napoleon (perhaps that will be the Commonwealth) and then turned to the American colonists. And given what was said in 5x09 about a rebel group fighting against the “republic” using what amounts to guerilla tactics, that does line up with how the American colonists fought the British during the revolution. So clearly that’s the one that will involve Beth and TF (though of course they will probably be involved, at least to some extent, in the Commonwealth bit as well).

Also, also. You talked about the LIBRARY of congress being burned. I’m not sure how, but suddenly I feel sure all the books and librarian stuff must be connected to this. To the revolution theme. I still remember watching the beginning of 6x16 and thinking it was SO significant, but I had no idea why. It’s where we see Carl lock Enid in the closet to keep her safe, and she’s yelling at him things like, “what if you don’t come back?” And he tells her, “just survive somehow.”

Meanwhile, that scene is intercut with Negan’s guys chasing the librarian they end up hanging over the bridge with an X spray painted on his chest. And then he gets…burned?

I remember thinking that just FELT like a big war that was coming, but back then, I really didn’t know how to interpret it. Of course, AOW started soon after, but the librarian group wasn’t a big part of that. If we’re honest, they really were just random side characters, which was odd because that sequence FELT so important. So, I’m betting we ought to be connecting them to this as well.

The Native American Symbols

For the record, a couple of things I’ve been trying to look into and haven’t found much (mostly because I haven’t had much time to do so yet) include what role Native American tribes played in the American revolution. Some were loyal to the British, others to colonists. As I said, I need to do more research, but little tidbits like this one are interesting:

“Their biggest contribution was as spies going to Canada and returning with news of the English plans, and attacking English coastal shipping. The Indians played a leading role in preventing an English attack on Machias by sea from being successful. “

(AL’s voice coming out of the radio in 5x09: “At least 68 citizens of the Republic have been killed in four deadly attacks along the main coastal district. The group has continued their campaign of random violence, moving across the countryside unfettered, with the Republic’s military forces in disarray.” Just saying.)

The other thing I’ve looked into is Francis Marion’s (Swamp Fox’s) connection to Native Americans of the time. During the revolution itself, I’m not finding much. But we do know that he learned a lot of his battle prowess from fighting the Cherokee Indians as a young man.

What he learned there is what made him so effective against the British. So, I’m wondering if that will translate with Beth in that she’ll fight the CRM or perhaps even in battles with the Commonwealth early on and that will give her what she needs to triumph much later in bigger battles. Or maybe they’ll connect it even earlier back to early battles with TF and what Daryl taught her. The possibilities are endless. ;D

@wdway:

If you do a search, it's quite fascinating and well worth the time to do two searches. One on the burning of the White House and then the other one on Andrew Jackson and the Battle of New Orleans.

There are things that I just did not go into like the connection with Napoleon that we've seen hints of in the past couple of seasons and didn't know why. The Cherokee Rose, which has been a symbol for so long and I do not think it was their intention in the beginning but what most people do not understand is that the Cherokee Rose has a strong connection to Andrew Jackson.

Andrew Jackson had a singular focus on driving the Native Americans (mostly the Cherokee Nation) to the West. Lightbulb moment here, but maybe that might be same of the meaning of Indian symbolism.

Jackson had a major part in the Trail of Tears, which is basically the story that Daryl tells Carol after walker Sophia was discovered. Jackson was a brilliant military soldier, but he was not known as a compassionate person. His nickname was Old Hickory (a tree reference) because the hickory tree's wood is known for its hardness.

A few years back, tptb did a promotion showing nuts that had a hard outer shell. People didn't understand what that was, but I knew because it was a hickory nut. A very hard outer shell and then inside is the actual nut. Hickory wood was the favored source for making baseball bats back in the day because they would not easily break.

The other interesting fact about Andrew Jackson was his love for his wife, Rachel. It was a legendary love. He might have been an asshole to the entire world, but Rachel was the love of his life. When she died, he did not simply bury her. He entombed her in her own little Mausoleum at his home, The Hermitage, just outside of Nashville.

Jackson fought both in the Revolutionary War and the 1812 war, in the Battle of New Orleans. He apparently had been imprisoned by the British for a time during the Revolutionary War, which fired his hatred for them.

Am I the only one thinking about the connections between him and Negan? I'm thinking of the two wars, the Commonwealth and the war against the CRM. I want to think that the Commonwealth conflict is represented by the War of 1812. The larger, more overall important conflict with a CRM will be the American Revolutionary War, with Rick replacing Washington as the leader.

I was freaking out when you mentioned the Overture of 1812. I don't care if it was written for the war led by Napoleon with Russia. If anything, that makes it even as stronger clue that we're on the right track because of the Russian satellite and Russian dictionary that little Judith got from (wait for it) the library, for Eugene.

One other thing, @twdmusicboxmystery. I thought about this earlier today when I was reading about the 1812 Overture, but I wanted to do a check before I mentioned it to you. 

Two very famous pieces of music came out of the 1812 wars. The 1812 Overture about Napoleon and Russia, and The Star-Spangled Banner, our U.S. national anthem written by Francis Scott Key about The Battle of Fort Henry. Both Fort Henry and The Battle of New Orleans were fought in 1814 but were known as being part of the War of 1812.

Can’t wait to see how it all plays out.

Definitely very interesting! Thanks for all this research @wdway! 

[kaylorrehabcenter]

Gold Rush and Happiness are Sisters

Gather round everyone and witness the clown try to prove that Taylor Swift wrote songs about a married (now pregnant) woman in the year of our lord 2020.

Also this is a seven page doc in my google docs so like. Get a cup of tea and some popcorn.

Ok full disclosure this is…..mostly me clowning. Like seriously. Don’t take my words as the word of God, this is just my interpretation and how I listen to the songs. And as a (former? Idk man) Kaylor I’m going to want to make these songs about my ship. Acknowledge your biases kids.

Also like. I change my mind a lot, but for a while this theory that Gold Rush and Happiness are connected has been stuck in my head and I wanted to write it down and post it in case anyone else got something out of this.

If you read my last post on Gold Rush (here!) you’ll know I don’t think of it as a happy song. To elaborate further- I think it’s Taylor catching herself looking back on Karlie/that time in her life (Because I think Karlie is emblematic of the 1989 era for Taylor and is thus tied to the pain that came out of that, along with her ties to the masters heist) and reminding herself it wasn’t good and ended for a reason.

“Gleaming, twinkling/eyes like sinking ships on waters/so inviting, I almost jump in”

“But I don’t like a gold rush” 

The sinking ship line makes me laugh. I like to think it’s Taylor saying she’s literally sunk our (dead) ship, but that’s mostly regressing to 2015 tumblr humur.

To the actual analysis, she almost jumps into these waters, maybe it’s literal (don’t text your ex kids, write a bop like closure instead) or maybe it’s more metaphorical. She almost allows herself to think the good times were the only times. Maybe there’s a desire to move back to nyc, capture the magic that she may have felt during the era. 

“I don’t like that flying feels like falling till the bone crush”

But that’s the thing. It feels like flying at the time, but it isn’t a feeling that can last. These relationships built on temporary promises (we’re assuming here Taylor was a side thing for Karlie, not that serious and built not to last, even if there were genuine romantic feelings on both sides, which I think there were to some level) won’t last, and will hurt when they do end. At least, this one did.

“Everyone wonders what it would be like to love you”

Everybody wants who she’s singing about and is imagining what it would be like to be with them, they think it would be a fairytale. Hell, Taylor probably thought their relationship would be a fairytale against her better judgement. Karlie is a celebrity and a model no less, yes she has other things going for her (Koding and investments), her brand and her success in the fashion world depends to some degree people desiring and fantasizing about her.

“I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch”

The funny thing about that, Taylor’s the only one who knows the pain of that relationship, of being a side thing and never committed to. It’s draining. It's difficult. She isn’t allowing herself to jump into those waters.

“I see me padding across your wooden floor/with my Eagles t shirt hanging on the door”

I point out this line mostly because it feels like a Delicate call back (Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs). Am I reaching though? Probably. Also as someone with parents about the same age as Taylor’s (give or take ten years), I like the Eagles reference. Stream Hotel California for clear skin <3

“At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit”

Taylor was the first person to call Karlie out on her “I’ve tried!!” bullshit, how cute. <3

Besides this line being very iconic, it also shows to me that Taylor’s been frustrated with Kar even when she was busy giving her heart eyes. She’s a frustrating person to be around even when you are “turning her life into folklore”.

“What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?/With your hair falling into place like dominoes”

Damn that’s a gay couples lines you got there Tay. Wonder if you’re wondering what it must’ve been like for Kar to grow up in the model industry, and all of the pressure and exhilaration that entails. From a male’s perspective ofc.

I also take the dominoes line to be Taylor saying what must’ve it been like to have this easy idyllic childhood. Maybe Taylor is the first time Karlie’s been with a girl outside of a hookup and didn’t have to go through the pain of realizing she was into women until later in life. (Not that that’s not painful, it’s just different, and allows you to have a perfectly straight childhood/teenagerhood)

“And the coastal town we wandered 'round had nеver seen a love as pure as it/And thеn it fades into the gray of my day-old tea/'Cause it could never be”

Maybe this relationship never existed in the way she thought at all. You know Carrie Fischer’s character in When Harry Met Sally and how until she meets the right guy, she spends the whole movie insisting that whatever married guy she’s seeing really loves her!! And he’s gonna leave his wife for her!! That’s what these two songs make me think about, waking up and realizing they were never going to leave their wife, you were projecting this whole story onto someone else, but that doesn’t mean there was no value in what happened.

“And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it/'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea/'Cause it will never be”

The coastal town seems an obvious Rhode Island reference, to get more specific it reminds me of when Josh and Karlie visited Taylor at her Rhode Island home in 2014 and Josh looks peeved as hell. 1, 2 Also if I remember correctly, enty has a blind where he says there was a huge fight between Josh and Taylor which ended in Taylor not wanting to be around him again. Just interesting to note. (And if anyone has the receipt, please send it my way!)

Taylor may have been projecting this fairytale narrative at the time of being able to make it work, of being friends with Josh even but it didn’t work and the fairytale is left to be folklore, never made real.

The outro is the same as the intro to the song, implying to me that while she’s telling herself it was bad, you weren’t happy, she’s still catching herself missing it and what she had with Karlie. She left a part of her back in New York see, and she can’t stop her mind from retracing old footsteps.

Now, onto how I think Happiness and how I think it connects. I’m about to audition for the national team in the reaching Olympics. Wish me luck. :)

A bit of a preamble though, I don’t take this song ~super~ literally. Depending on what day of the week it is I think it’s probably her divorcee rpg simulator or her closing the book on her ex situationship gf on her own terms ~in a straight way~. So not to discredit this whole ass post but. Take with a grain of salt.

“Honey, when I'm above the trees/I see this for what it is”

See that bold bit? That’s the main connective tissue between these songs. She’s finally woken up and now that she’s this far removed from the relationship she sees what it was. To add to the pain of it all, this is especially potent if you wonder if Karlie gaslit Tay into thinking this wasn’t a big deal, they were just fucking around when Karlie has literal Softest Love Song You Are In Love dedicated to her.

“But now I'm right down in it, all the years I've given/Is just shit we're dividin' up”

This seems to me to be a masters heist reference. Karlie since Lover, is musically tied to this event in Taylor’s life, it’s what I think is keeping Tay from making a clean break from her so to speak. 

“Showed you all of my hiding spots/I was dancing when the music stopped”

This seems to be a Rep era/dwoht reference. Yes, Taylor constantly references dancing, but the hiding spots (loved you in secret! you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis!) combined with the dancing when the music stopped (I'd kiss you as the lights went out! Swaying as the room burned down!) brings out the full kaylor clown in me. 

“There'll be happiness after you/But there was happiness because of you/Both of these things can be true”

This is probably some of the most gut wrenching lyrics Taylor’s ever written. Damn, imagine having that written about you. Anyway, the point here is the thesis of this whole damn post. Gold Rush is Taylor catching herself daydreaming about the happy parts, and reminding herself about the bad to make her snap out of it. Happiness is her coming to terms that both parts of that relationship were true. Things aren’t that simple. 

“Haunted by the look in my eyes/That would've loved you for a lifetime/Leave it all behind”

This feels very Cruel Summer doesn’t it? “I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” These lines make this relationship read as two things to me. One, it was very one sided, and Taylor/the narrator, was obviously left behind at the end of it when she was heavily invested into making this work. And 2, it was doomed from the beginning. Again. Big cruel summer energy here.

Or it’s a divorcee rpg simulator 3000. Now with extra glamour and opportunities to dramatically drink wine in dressing gowns.

I don’t have a lot to say about the second verse of the song that. Karlie has a nice smile, Gatsby reference, dig at whoever the next person to take Taylor’s place as a side fling (or a dig at Josh, or a baby reference since that’s what the Gatsby line refers to). The only other thing worthy of note for this post is the line following the Gatsby reference.

“No, I didn't mean that/Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury”

 is the next line, where she regrets what she just said and admits to saying overly harsh things and overlooking the truth of the matter when she’s angry, which to me feels like a big Afterglow/Me! reference.

“There'll be happiness after me/But there was happiness because of me/Both of these things, I believe”

I think a lot of what Taylor’s doing emotionally in the chorus is legitimizing this relationship for herself. Yeah, Josh and Karlie will have a happy life in Florida with Ivanka and them, but Taylor also made Karlie happy too and she doesn’t want Karlie to forget it. 

It reminds me of the way she talks about August, that she genuinely loves James/Karlie, and thinks they have something. But she’s just the pit stop on the commitment highway, and the depth of her feelings for the other person will never be acknowledged. It’s exhausting you know?

“In our history, across our great divide”

“Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea/That you put between you and me”

Nothing to see here, just a nifty parallel. Karlie doesn’t want wrinkles in her new life see.

“There is a glorious sunrise/Dappled with the flickers of light/From the dress I wore at midnight, leave it all behind/And there is happiness”

This bit (which has some of my favorite imagery in this whole dang album!!!) reminds me of the end of the Wildest Dreams mv where she runs out to the car with the lover following her after the big charade of pretending not to care as much as she does, while knowing you aren’t the one that got picked.

Interestingly, if you look at the shot of the four characters together near the end, the outfits parallel the ones worn by Kar, Tay, and Josh at the 2014 Met Gala. This was of course the one where Tay and Kar got ready together and Karlie proceeded to spend the night with Josh and where Tay just looks. Miserable. (see here!)

The line also parallels Wildest Dreams lyrically.

“Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress/Staring at the sunset, babe”

Which you know. Worth noting.

The last line (And there is happiness) seems to point to there being happiness in leaving the bad situation just as much as there was happiness in the situation. It’s Time to Go anyone?

“I can't make it go away by making you a villain/I guess it's the price I paid for seven years in Heaven”

A series of thoughts. One, I love the first line where Taylor acknowledges anger isn’t going to make it better. There’s only so much being angry in this situation will do, and it’s not like Taylor’s record is clean here either. (I mean I assume. We know she went psycho on the phone anyway)

Two. Seven years in heaven is both a play on a famous game/turn of phrase (Seven minutes in heaven) but one of the more bold references to Karlie in her whole damn discography. Do I think they’ve been together for seven years straight? Not really. But do I think Taylor saw an opportunity and jumped on it? Yep. 

“And I pulled your body into mine/Every goddamn night, now I get fake niceties”

No thoughts head empty this line is a sucker punch and I love it. If anyone needs me I’ll be watching her perform ikywt on the vsfs and crying to yail.

“All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness”

Oh look! Another Gatsby reference. Or Taylor calling Karlie out on profiting off of her association with Tay after they clearly did not end on good terms. (Folklore themed maternity shoot anyone?) I mean, whatever floats your boat. 

A bit on the green light metaphor from Gatsby, because it’s worth noting even if I don’t have much more to say on it here.

“Situated at the end of Daisy’s East Egg dock and barely visible from Gatsby’s West Egg lawn, the green light represents Gatsby’s hopes and dreams for the future. Gatsby associates it with Daisy, and in Chapter 1 he reaches toward it in the darkness as a guiding light to lead him to his goal.”

Yes I copied that from Spark Notes. No I am not sorry. I have an exam tomorrow and I’m writing about a dead ship on a dead social media website. Sometimes we do what we must do.

I love the ending of this song, I really really do, it feels like taking in a breath of air and finally feeling free of the weight you’re carrying. It feels like a final goodbye, like Tay’s getting closure on her own terms and I truly love that for her. Bb’s stepping out into the daylight. <3 

There is happiness

In our history, across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

From the dress I wore at midnight, leave it all behind

Oh, leave it all behind

Leave it all behind

And there is happiness

So, what was this whole seven page post for then? 

Gold Rush and Happiness being connected has been a theory rattling around in my brain for forever and I’ve wanted to write it down for just as long. The tldr of it all is pretty simple, Gold Rush is about her reminiscing about the good parts of Kaylor, and pulling herself out of it, reminding herself it was bad and bad for her. Happiness is her legitimizing the relationship, and moving on while acknowledging there was bad and good in their story. It just took me seven goddamn pages to articulate that.

If you’ve reached the end of this. Damn. Thanks. Go get a snack or something, you deserve it after reading this.

[magniloquent-raven]

43, and 83?

ty for the prompts!! 

posted on ao3

i’m taking commissions for HfBLM now y’all, if you like this fic and have $5 to spare pls consider donating & hitting me up with a prompt. my info is here

--

Steve is pretending to watch TV when the phone rings. He’s not even sure what show he threw on, just couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. His weekends used to be a lot more eventful. Lively. There was a time when he’d have had something to fill the silence, but now...

He graduated high school eight days ago. The only thing he has to look forward to now is Dustin getting back from camp in a couple weeks, and in the meantime, he’s working at the mall. Scooping ice-cream in the dumbest hat on the fucking planet.

And he got another lecture on responsibility yesterday. His father’s idea of a graduation present, apparently.

Life isn’t great right now.

So, when the phone interrupts his pity party, he assumes the worst. Which, given Hawkins’ track-record, is pretty bad. Apocalyptic bad.

Or it could just be his dad, tipsy in a hotel room in Indianapolis and thinking up new reasons why Steve is a disappointment.

He’s not sure which one he hopes it is.

“Harrington, residence,” he says when he picks up, in case it is his father.

The silence from the other end stretches long enough that Steve almost hangs up, then, “Heey,” a voice slurs. A familiar voice. “That you, Stevie?”

“Hargrove?”

“Ugh,” a staticky scoff crackles through the line, “Don’t call me that.”

“Are you drunk?” He ignores the way Billy rankles at his own last name. Doesn’t have time to unpack Billy Hargrove’s many issues, and honestly, the fact that the guy is calling him out of the blue drunk off his ass is the more pressing issue. “And how did you get my phone number?”

“Phonebook, genius.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. Ignores the weird little thrill he gets at the idea of Billy going through the trouble of looking up his number. “What the hell, man.”

He should hang up. Billy can’t possibly have any good reason to be calling, and engaging with…whatever this is, probably won’t end well for Steve. However, Steve is very bored. And Hargrove is at the very least…entertaining. In his way. 

If Steve were a little more honest with himself, he might use other adjectives, but he’s not thinking about that.

“Steeevie…” Billy sing-songs through the phone, “Pretty boy, what’re you doing right now?”

“Regretting answering the phone.”

Billy cackles, “No, really.”

“I’m really regretting answering the phone.”

“C’mooon.”

See, the thing is… Billy’s...whatever his deal is, fixation or whatever, really doesn’t bother Steve as much as it should. 

Sometimes it’s shitty, yeah. On his bad days, when Billy says exactly the wrong thing, just to get a rise out of him. But it’s also…not all terrible. Maybe Steve’s ten kinds of fucked up for thinking it, but it’s flattering. Because it isn’t just crass comments and getting overly physical during basketball practice, it’s calling Steve pretty, and glancing over after he does a trick shot, like he wants to make sure Steve saw him. And heavy, unflinching eye-contact that makes Steve hot all over.

So, maybe Steve’s got a bit of a…problem. And maybe he’s thinking about it a little.

About Billy being the only person over the age of fourteen who regularly pays attention to him, and why that even matters. And how much he didn’t mean it when he said he regretted picking up at all.

It’s a rabbit hole he’s kind of terrified to go down, but his brain keeps trying to push him in anyway.

“Steeeevve.”

He sighs. “What do you want, Billy?”

Billy’s quiet for a beat, like he’s actually thinking about it, then hums, low and amused, and says, “More than you could handle, baby.”

Steve chokes on his tongue. Falls down the rabbit hole.

Because what’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you—” Steve stutters, stops, heart racing. Billy’s messing with him. That’s what he does. It doesn't mean anything. Steve kind of hates how much he wants it to mean something. Wants Billy here crooning baby in his ear without the phone between them. “What if your parents are listening in, you can’t just say shit like that.” 

Oh the irony. After all the times girls have said almost that exact thing to him, here he is... The implications thrill him a little.

But then there’s a bark of laughter, bitter and humourless. “You worried about me?” Steve frowns at the sudden shift in Billy’s tone. “M’not at home right now, princess, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

 “Where are you then?” It slips out before he can think better of it. It’s none of his business where Billy is, and Billy doesn’t take well to people nosing around in his life. Not that it’s an especially personal question. Still, he’s seen Billy bite people’s heads off for less. 

But all he says is, “Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Steve squawks. Billy is somewhere, drunk and probably alone, in Hawkins. Monster infested, suspicious death capital of Indiana, motherfucking Hawkins. And either he’s so drunk he’s got no sense of direction, or he just hasn’t been here long enough to know his ass from Melvald’s General. Or some horrible combo of the two. None of those options are good. 

“Just…describe what you see.” The line is silent for a while. Steve grips the phone harder. “Billy,” he snaps, not caring that he’s letting his anxiety bleed into his voice.

“Jesus, alright,” Billy mutters, “Trees. More fuckin’ trees. Y’know, this town really is a shithole. Nothin’ around but mud and—”

“Focus, asshole.”

“So bossy. There’s some big-ass chain-link fence. Seems weird, ‘cause it’s the middle of nowh—"

“Oh god, you’re out by Mirkwood,” Steve realizes, horrified.

“…I’ll be sure to watch out for elves then.” He can almost hear Billy’s eyeroll.

“Would you stop being—wait, you understood the reference?” Steve blinks. Processes. Tries not to find it too endearing that Billy Hargrove is, underneath the leather and hairspray, a nerd, apparently. 

Now is really not the time. So he files the information away for later. He’s not sure what he’s gonna do with it later, but it feels important for some reason. 

“Never mind, just—Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” Mirkwood isn’t far, it would only take him a couple minutes to drive there. And Steve knows exactly where the payphone on that street is, which helps.

Steve half-expects a fight. Expects Billy to protest, claim he doesn’t need help or whatever, but what he gets is a quiet, “I…okay.”

“I’ll be right there,” Steve says firmly. He’s not sure Billy needs the reassurance, but he gives it anyway.

He’s shaking a little, he realizes, as he pulls on his jacket and grabs his keys. It’s ridiculous, probably, to be so freaked out, and he chides himself internally for being so easily spooked. The gate is closed, the lab is shut down, there should be nothing in those woods scarier than Billy himself. But shouldn’t be didn’t stop Will Byers from getting taken in the first place. None of that shit should have been, but it happened anyway. Billy may be more formidable than some shrimpy twelve-year-old but he’s also drunk, and has no idea what could be out there.

Steve pushes the speed limit a little.

~~

Billy is sitting in the dirt on the side of the road, knees pulled to his chest, back against the payphone booth. The dirty fluorescent behind him lights up his honey-coloured curls like the world's saddest halo.

The knot of anxiety in Steve’s chest loosens a little.

He puts the Beemer in park. Now that he knows Billy’s okay, he realizes he didn’t really think this all the way through. Because…what now?

Billy hasn’t moved, so Steve goes to him, approaches cautiously, with his hands in his pockets to stop him from fidgeting too much. “Billy?”

“Hey.” The greeting is subdued.

“You okay, man?”

He sniffs, doesn’t look at Steve. Rubs the back of his hand under his nose. “No.” There’s something clutched in his other hand, Steve realizes, but he can’t make out what it is because Billy is curled around it, blocking the light.

“Do…you want to, uh, talk about it?” Steve cringes his way through the question. He’s really, really out of his depth here, not a goddamn buoy in sight.

There’s no response. The silence stretches on for an awkward moment before Billy pushes himself to his feet, swaying a little. Steve’s almost afraid he’s going to fall over but he just shuffles forward, uncharacteristically hesitant, and extends a hand towards Steve when he gets close enough.

With a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist.

Only half of them have bloomed, their little purple petals unfurled. The stems look a little prickly, dotted with green buds and jagged leaves, and half-crushed in Billy’s hand, the green turned dark and pulpy in spots.

Steve is pretty sure if his heart tried to beat any faster it would actually explode. He’s genuinely at a loss for words, left gaping at Billy trying not to wheeze like he’s just run a marathon.

“Picked these for you,” Billy mutters. He’s staring at a patch of dirt near Steve’s shoe with the intensity of someone trying very hard not to look at anything else.

There’s air escaping Steve’s lungs, but he can’t seem to make it into sound. He stares, unmoving, for long enough that Billy starts fidgeting, lowering his hand. The motion spurs Steve to action, heart in his mouth he reaches out and grabs Billy’s wrist. Billy stills under his fingers, and Steve slides his palm down the back of his hand. He’s warm. Knuckles scarred and rough.

“…Why?” Steve’s voice is reverently quiet. He’s almost afraid to scare Billy off, say the wrong thing and make him retreat behind the walls he’s always hiding behind.

Billy shrugs. Then finally looks Steve in the eye. He’s cautious, tension in his shoulders, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that Steve’s never seen before. It’s breathtaking. Literally. Steve stops breathing for a second. 

“Why’re you here?” Billy asks. Demands. There’s no edge to it, just a quiet desperation that breaks Steve’s heart. He wonders why Billy is here. What brought him to the edge of town, drunk and alone.

“I…” His fingers tighten around Billy’s hand. Lies destroyed him and Nancy. All the things she kept from him that tore her up inside, all the times he wanted to pretend everything was okay. Lies are making his parents miserable. Always acting like their marriage isn’t hanging by a thread and a shared bank account. He and Billy don’t have a relationship to destroy, but—“I was worried about you.”

The words terrify him now that they’re out there. Saying he and Billy don’t have a relationship is an understatement. They’re barely even civil on a good day. Billy’s probably just bored out of his mind in small-town Indiana and fucking with Steve is as good an outlet as any, and Steve’s the dumb motherfucker who went and caught feelings for someone just for paying attention to him, oh god—

Steve pulls his hand away, cheeks burning, while the world starts shrinking around him, narrowing down to him and his sweaty palms. He’s had panic attacks before, but if he has one now he might actually fucking die.

“My dad took my keys,” Billy says, cutting through Steve’s internal tirade.

He blinks. “What?”

Billy’s fidgeting again. “Turned eighteen a couple months ago. Told myself I was gonna wait ‘til graduation. Finish school, y’know? Been saving up, and fuckin’ dreaming about this for years, but then…” He stops, grits his teeth. Steve waits for him to continue with bated breath.

“I was gonna get out. Didn’t want anything holding me back. But then my dad took my fucking keys and I—I wasn’t even mad that he stopped me,” Billy’s voice breaks, catches in his throat, “I wanted someone to stop me. Didn’t want it to be him, but it was never gonna be you. Because you. You don’t—” he stutters to a halt and squeezes his eyes shut.

And…that’s a lot to process. It’s a lot. But Steve had some practice taking things in stride, so he focuses on what’s important for now.

“Hey,” he says softly, and touches his fingertips to the inside of Billy’s wrist. Billy jolts, his eyes open and he looks at Steve warily, but he doesn’t pull away. “Can I take you home?”

Poor word choice. Billy recoils, curls in on himself.

“My house! I meant to my house,” Steve amends. The way Billy instantly relaxes worries Steve. This whole situation worries Steve. “There’s, uh, no one else there, so. I mean, oh-- I just want to get you sobered up, and—and once you’re—I’m just gonna stop talking. Let’s. Let’s just go.”

He turns and heads to the car so he doesn’t embarrass himself any more.

The drive back to Loch Nora is quiet, the radio plays something soft that Steve can barely hear and neither of them speak. The silence gets deafening when he cuts the engine. 

Billy Hargrove sitting in his parents’ pristine kitchen, jean jacket askew, earring flashing in the low light, while Steve makes him a cup of coffee, is…surreal. Made strange by just how mundane it is. How domestic. 

And keeping his hands busy doesn’t stop his mind from wandering. Or doing fucking wind sprints. So many new places to go, so little time.

Billy is sitting on the island in the middle of the room, watching. And it feels like the little pile of mangled flowers next to him is staring too.

“So, uh, you can sleep here. If you want. There’s a spare room,” Steve says as he hands a mug over. Their fingers brush and he tries not to fixate on it. Or think about where else Billy could sleep. 

No, fuck it, he’s thinking about it. Billy in his bed. Billy’s hands on him. How he looked after basketball practice, sweaty and shirtless, muscles taut, blue eyes burning through Steve. The showers afterwards. Wanting to know what Billy tastes like. 

The thoughts aren’t new, but letting them play out is. It’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

“What are you doing, Harrington?” Billy asks quietly.

Steve blinks. Thinking about you naked, doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer so he flounders, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of anything other than tanned skin and golden curls. “...Nothing?” 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

He mentally kicks himself. Closes his eyes briefly and tries to get his shit together.

Billy’s got a thumbnail between his teeth, his gaze fixed on Steve, intent. There’s a question in his eyes. Uncertainty in his posture. “I mean...why are you--” He stops, lets out a frustrated sigh, and puts his coffee down. “What do you get out of this? I--I picked flowers for you, man. Half expected you to try and kick my ass again but now you’re, what, being charitable, or something?” 

Steve makes several big decisions in a short amount of time. He takes a step forward, inches away from standing between Billy’s knees. “I like it when you’re nice to me. When you look at me like I matter. I’m not being charitable, I’m just…” 

Making a fool of myself, probably.

But Billy’s got that vulnerable look again, mouth soft and eyes wide. He’s beautiful like this. He’s always been annoyingly gorgeous, all stormy eyes and sharp teeth, alluring like only a dangerous thing can be, but this… looking at him like this makes Steve ache.

“When have I ever been nice to you?” Billy half-laughs, it’s weak and watery. 

Steve grins, watches Billy track the motion. “You have your moments.” He steps forward again. It’d be so easy to put his hands on Billy’s thighs from here, standing between them. He wants to. So badly his fingers twitch. 

“...Steve?”

He inhales, slow, steadying. And exhales. Waiting isn’t going to make this any easier to say, but he can’t help taking a moment to collect himself. To panic. And think of all the ways it could go wrong. 

“Can I touch you?”

A sharp intake of breath is the only response he gets at first. Billy’s eyes go wide, and Steve can practically see the gears turning in his head. The whiskey haze seems to have mostly faded by now, his guard goes up faster than it would have otherwise. 

So, Steve waits. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Billy nods. 

He gives Billy the opportunity to change his mind, to pull away, moves carefully and deliberate so it’s clear what he’s doing. 

Before he even makes contact Billy’s eyes darken, and his hands shoot up to grab ahold of Steve’s wrists, but instead of pushing him off he tugs Steve closer. Suddenly they’re pressed together, Billy’s legs around his waist, clutching Steve’s hands to his chest.

“If you’re gonna do it, then do it, Harrington,” Billy growls, and Steve feels it as much as he hears it.

Which is...definitely something Steve didn’t know he would be into, yet there’s an undeniable flash of heat in his belly and he suppresses a shiver. He curls his fingers into the soft material of Billy’s shirt, feels the hard muscle beneath. 

Billy closes his eyes, and lets out a shaky breath.

They stay like that for a few seconds. Billy’s grip on Steve’s wrists slackens, but stays, thumbs tracing circles in Steve’s skin while he feels Billy’s heartbeat beneath his hands. His pulse is racing.

Steve leans forward, buries his face in the crook of Billy’s neck. He’s trapped their hands between them, put his elbows at a slightly awkward angle, but doesn’t care enough to move, not when he’s breathing in Billy’s scent. The faint chlorine smell clinging to the golden curls tickling his forehead, cologne and cigarette smoke on his clothes, and under it all something indescribably Billy, sharp and musky, oddly comforting.

“I like you,” Steve murmurs. It’s easier to talk like this. When he doesn’t have to make eye-contact. He can just talk, without worrying about anything else. What to do with his hands, where to look, what his face is doing while he speaks. What Billy might be thinking. “The flowers were nice. No one’s ever done something like that for me. And if I’d known you wanted me to stop you from leaving, I would have. I would’ve.” 

Billy wriggles his hands out from between them, and puts a hand on Steve’s cheek to guide his face upwards, until he’s looking into Billy’s eyes. His gaze is searching, roaming Steve’s face looking for answers. “I don’t know what I did to make you think that you…” he pauses, furrows his brow. “I wanted you the second I saw you, but… I don’t deserve you.”

He doesn’t let go though. Leaves his hand where it is, his thighs still warming Steve’s sides. 

Steve shrugs. “But you have me.”

It’s unclear which of them leans in first. Steve’s not too concerned with the technicalities anyways, not when he’s got Billy’s tongue in his mouth. He kisses like a man starved. No holding back, no hesitation. Steve is overwhelmed in the best way possible, weak in the knees and holding on for dear life. 

When they finally come up for air Steve’s fingers are tangled in Billy’s hair (he’s not sure when that happened), and he’s half-hard in his jeans. Billy is too, he can feel it pressed against his stomach. 

It takes a lot of self-control to keep from grinding against him, finding out what Billy looks like when he comes, what kind of noises he can coax out of him.

Because as much as he wants all of that, and more, he’s still barely comfortable admitting that. He’s scared of what all this means. Of the fact that he made some pretty big declarations and meant every word of it. Now it’s out there, and he doesn’t know where to go from here.

However, what comes out of his mouth is a breathless, “Come to bed with me?” and it takes his brain a second to realize exactly how that sounded. When he does, he panics. Pulls back as far as he can without actually stepping out of Billy’s embrace. “I mean-- shit-- I meant that but, not-- not like that-- I--”

Billy silences Steve by putting a finger to his lips. There’s an amused glint in his eye, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I got you, pretty boy. No worries.”

Getting ready for bed together is...an experience. Steve tripping over himself trying to act normal and Billy completely unable to keep a straight face. Steve’s pretty sure he’s never seen Billy smile this much. It’s got him feeling weirdly proud of himself. Giddy, like a kid passing notes to his crush, with a heart full of bubbles and his stomach in knots. 

Actually laying in bed, side by side, is incredibly awkward for a long few seconds, before Steve rolls over and throws an arm across Billy’s chest. He shuffles closer, letting Billy tuck his arm under him, around his waist. 

He doesn’t want to sleep. Not yet. So, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “You’ve read The Hobbit?”

Billy laughs, startled. “I mean...yeah. Why?”

Steve grins against Billy’s shoulder. “No reason. Tell me what else you’ve read.”

They lay like that for a while, talking quietly until they’re too tired to keep their eyes open. Steve drifts off first, listening to Billy talk, content in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.

[tarunsaravana]

BRAINWASHING CHILDREN THEORY

Now I’m warning you the next theory is pretty dark and probably one of the most unsettleing ones we have talked about in this Blog.

This theory starts with subliminal msgs in kids shows.

SUBLIMAL MESSAGES

By far Spongebob square pants has the most messages that are clearly hidden in grown ups.

There’s jokes about prison “Don’t Drop Them”

Patrick licking sand.

Those are all just jokes, clearly hidden for adults

But there are lot of jokes, some involves suicide.

In a 2001 episode , squidward is being sad the entire time. There is scenes of him walking around dazed stage. There is a scene of him putting in a oven. By far the most darkest moment of them all is sponge bob looks after him thinking his okay. And then he’s says “at least we know he’s alive”. Yeah that might be the darkest line I have ever read in a kids cartoon show. There are plenty of suicidal messages left in other episodes. As I was looking more into it , I found out suicide was in a lot of cartoon tv shows. The ending of looney tunes.this one really gave me chills down spine, in one of the cartoon characters from looney tunes jumping off the bridge shouting “IM FREE”. Once again glorifying suicide. And its not just these clips. Bunny , Daffy Duck, woody woodpecker, daisy and a bunch of cartoon characters ending their life with gun for no reason. the strangest of them all how they made it look exciting to kids.There is a cartoon where mickey gets depressed over Minnie. In that cartoon 3 ways of killing yourself is shown gun, petroleum and for some reason jumping off a bridge. Now I’m not saying this to scare you or not to watch cartoon. These are all just theories none of them are “facts” and they are not meant to hurt anyone/anything. I mean the daisy cartoon where daisy is shown depressed , in that cartoon almost 5 ways of killing yourself is shown and poured into youngsters mind. Gun, grenade ,knife, hanging and bomb.

THEORY(just speculations)

Now why would they put suicide on younger generations brain some people think control of over growth of population, some people think to keep society weak and depressed and fearful state. Because the more younger you are between 1 - 5 years your brain develops and everything you see on your favourite cartoon shows killing themself and also make it exciting. The more society, the more power control over weak society. Think about it kids are depressed , we’re medicating them and putting them on pills and sitting in front of TV while their watching their favorite cartoon character kill themself and also making it seem exciting to kids. I mean the global antidepressant market is estimated over 11.6 BILLION dollars. The government and the economy love depression. We also glorify things like money, fame, success. And of course if we can’t afford things we were told it will set us “free”. That’s why back of our heads teens think suicide is an option. YES , people have severe depression,OCD ,suicidal thoughts me too included in the past. But it is wondering who started all of these negative energy. Think about it your child entertainer Logan Paul filming a dead body in the suicide forest. The nickelodeon shows who show unessasacery content to kids.it involves talking about feet a lot. Even think about the board game which targeted to us as kids.

“THE GAME OF LIFE”. The goal is to succeed or you’ll lose. To win the game of life you need to make money. You should be better than those who are playing against you. Literally the commercial says “Be A Winner in the Game of Life”. I MEAN , COME ON. And the original version of the game of life in 1860 ,created by Milton Bradley ,it literally had suicide on the board as a option. Now its not just suicide being poured into kids pure brain.there’s darkness in every single form. I mean think about the games we used to play as kids. I mean just google “Ring around the Rosie meaning”A rosy rash, they allege, was a symptom of the plague, and posies of herbs were carried as protection and to ward off the smell of the disease. Sneezing or coughing was a final fatal symptom, and "all fall down" was exactly what happened. Again a another event where people die and has shown as exciting to kids. London Bridge. A song about a huge bridge falling down.“London Bridge is Falling Down” could be about a 1014 Viking attack, child sacrifice, or the normal deterioration of an old bridge. But the most popular theory seems to be that first one. More specifically: the alleged destruction of London Bridge at the hands of Olaf II of Norway sometime in the early 1000s. There’s even a darker line singing iron parts will bend and break , bend and break.

Ouija board, a game that makes fun to contact evil spirits in your house.Twister , a game that is marketed to tight teenagers up and down. Imagine the creepy uncles wanna play the game at thanksgiving.and then we have the darkest of them all Hangman , game where you have to choose the correct word or your little stick figure gets hanged. And the darkest part of them all is that , this classroom game is actually based on real life game in the 18th century, prisoners that were sentenced to death by hanging should guess the word, the exicutioner will give and if they guess the word right they’ll live or if not death. The most messed up part of all of this ,that almost all of the prisoners were illiterate which means they didn’t have a chance , that game was to just publicly humiliate them before they died.

NURSERY RHYMES

And it’s not just games which have a darker turn , what’s the first thing you remember as a kid, nursery rhymes. rock bye baby , a song which a baby’s cradle is in the branch of a tree and the branch breaks and the baby falls to the ground. Humpty Dumpty , he sat on a wall and suddenly “had a great fall” and nobody can save him because he’s dead.”its raining and pouring” a song where a old man hits his head on the wall and then dies, “he couldn’t get up in the morning “

Now one of the most disturbing is Peter peter pumpkin eater. A song about a guy who he’s wife doesn’t want him and puts her in a pumpkin and again, song which normalizes holding women against your will. I mean looking back at London bridge there’s a reference to something along the lines of “LOCK HER UP,LOCK HER UP” “LOCK HER UP,LOCK HER UP “(lyrics from London bridge).

INTERNET

Now on the internet kids start watching YouTube kids but don’t worry there’s bunch of dark messages hidden there. Murder,suicide, violence and for some reason lot of vomiting. Then when you’re a teenager you watch plenty of violence movies, tv shows and now internet challenges like momo challenge and blue whale challenge.

DISCUSSION

Everyone on society questions how much evil, death, hatred, depresssion, destruction but do we even have to question it? By looking back at our childhoods what was being put into us and right in front of our eyes. So what’s the overall theory ,”the way to keep a society in large is by fear, chaos ,the only way to make vote for them is to through destruction”” the only way to unite is through tragedies.”

“The only way to keep people happy , is by showing constant realistic expections that don’t really matter”” money, success”. The society that’s peaceful is not a society that can never be controlled.

CONCLUSION(spreading awareness)

So ,what do you do to make sure that chaos doesn’t appear continuously , well make sure to SHOW children how scary and dark the world is at very young age.

News

A mother bought a toddler this princess wand in the dollar store. Imagine the curiosity , shock and surprise when the child carefully peeled the foil to find a image of a another little girl cutting her wrist full blood.

“If you looked close enough its not a joke ,its actual image of a child slit her wrist, I want to know , what they think,how that’s suitable for a child.

Tarun