#so even with my windows closed i hear it. even with headphones and earplugs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sketchguk · 5 years

Text

lover to lean on; pjm

➳ pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader

➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 20k

➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

➳ warnings: explicit language, pining, unrequited love 🤔, accidental voyeurism, unhealthy eating/sleeping habits, praise kink, body worship, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjobs, penetration, fluffy sex

➳ a/n: oops, I uploaded this later than I expected because the word count really got me. anyways, this fic is inspired by the song call me by keshi x rainlord. go give it a listen!

Wake up and smell the roses.

That would be a great philosophy for life if you didn’t have to wake up to the sound of sex at 2 in the goddamn morning.

Perhaps it’s your fault for not checking on the thickness of the drywall prior to moving in, but it wasn’t exactly the first concern that came to mind when touring the flat. Now, it’s more of a personal problem than anything: you being bitter about not having sex while your neighbor and his girlfriend are going at it like rabbits 5 feet away from you. It’s not a very valid complaint to bring up to your landlord. He’d probably tell you to suck it up and get laid.

And he’s right.

Besides, it’s not so bad most days. You hardly even notice the sound of running water through the rusty pipelines every morning or the whizzing of the ancient radiator on cold nights. In fact, you welcome it. It’s become part of the rustic building’s old-school, pre-historic charm.

That, you can get behind.

But one thing is for sure. You’re never going to learn to appreciate the strangled garble of a morning blowjob in the steamy showers or the banging of the bedpost against the paper thin walls when you’re in desperate need of some beauty sleep, well deep in a state of REM.

It’s anything but charming.

The 3 inch thick divider between you and your not-so-considerate neighbor does absolutely nothing to drown out the soft moans and hard grunts. You can hear them loud and clear through the dead of night as if they’re right beside you.

“My god,” you sigh, rolling around your bed restlessly. Your hand blindly palms at the sheets in search of the pillow that rests beside you, placing it over your face and sandwiching yourself between the cushions. If you can’t kill your neighbor, you might as well suffocate yourself first to avoid incrimination, shamefully persecuted for third degree murder.

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, but it’s stifled against the buffer. The banging stops almost immediately.

“Shit,” you hear from the other side.

Did he come? Is it over?

You pray, hold your breath, and lie still as if you’re the one caught red-handed. But you’re not a voyeur. At least not on purpose.

It isn’t your fault for being a light sleeper because the only thing to blame is the flimsy partition your landlord dare considers a wall. If you could have it any other way, you would. This is far from ideal granted that you didn’t even ask for any of this, but it’s far too late to get a refund.

Lately, you’ve been spending your nights muting out vulgar dirty talk, the occasional squelches, and the obscene skin slapping on skin. Over time, you’ve come to know your neighbor on a much more intimate level than you would have liked despite never seeing him around. Like the fact that he thrives off of edge play and praise kinks. Yeah, it’s probably for the best that his identity is kept a secret otherwise you wouldn’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again with the knowledge that you have stowed away in the crevasses of your brainー knowledge you would prefer to forget. You don’t even know his name, but you’re long past the point of being acquainted with one another, so it would pretty be awkward to ask for it now. All you know is that he’s stuck in his own bubble, too blinded by love and lust to even consider his poor neighbor.

Most nights, you even make the effort to stumble through your cluttered, moonlit studio apartment in search of your cheap headphones that usually dangle precariously over the edge of your desk. You’ve made a mental note to invest in some earplugs and a more effective set of headphones too.

Truly, you’re not the type to invade one’s privacy. You have nothing to be sorry about because you respect your neighbor, his girlfriend, and their sexy time. If anything, they should be the ones apologizing for keeping you awake for three consecutive nights. No less on a Tuesday.

But perhaps the act is already done and you can let bygones be bygones. Maybe he’s already come, and as unfortunate as that may be for his girlfriend, the chances are he's low on stamina tonight. The vivace metronomic thuds against your shared wall would suggest he was going pretty hard at it too. Not that it’s any of your business. You’re happy that your neighbor is so in love, and that he can have sex all day, all night and fall into the comfort of his lover’s arms, unlike you. You’re not bitter.

Not at all.

You don’t mean to get invested in his relationship, but it’s just that tonight, he finished rather early as opposed to the hour it usually takes him to climaxー foreplay and edge play and all. You don’t keep track of the time per se. That’d be a little creepy, but it’s hard not to do so when you’re losing out on a precious hour of sleep each night. Especially when you’re stuck in your own overactive imagination, wondering how good his stroke game is and what type of lingerie he’s intoー

“Sorry!”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then the realization hits you momentarily.

He’s talking to you.

They must have heard you groaning through the stupid, thin walls, and therefore, you’re responsible for this very awkward exchange.

Your grip on the pillow loosens as you lift it over your head.

“It’s okay!” Your voice cracks with a heightened tone, “Just make sure you use protection!” The cringe settles into the pit of your stomach as soon as you respond. You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally facepalm yourself. You should have left it alone, but your cursed mouth moves way faster than your thoughts.

The couple whispers to one another, but it’s hushed and hurried. Faint and hard to decipher. Angry, even. The wall must be really selective on what it chooses to mute out which is absolutely perfect when you actually want to know what’s happening on the other side.

However, moments after, you can still hear the rustle of sheets and the patter of footstepsー two pairs. Even the harsh close of the door and the soft turning of the deadbolt, a resounding click that could be heard if you were to listen close enough.

Once again, there’s a shuffle of feet that skid across the hardwoodー one pair. A few creaks echo from the aged floorboards. And then there’s a squeak from the bed slat, a heavy mass pressing on the mattress.

You sit in silence with eyes wide open as you trap air into your lungs in fear of breathing out. Correction, in fear of your neighbor making comments on your rude interruption. If you could pretend that you’re asleep, maybe the problem will disappear into the night.

But it doesn’t because it never works that way.

Moonlight filters through the pane glass windows, right between the cracks of your curtain. It illuminates your face and keeps you awake longer than you need to be. You manage to let out the breath you’ve been holding when something else breaks the silence.

You can hear it faintly. The soft hum of an unfamiliar tune before the soft outbreak of vocals. The song is bitter, but the voice is sweet.

Your neighbor has gotten into the habit of singing whether it be at dawn or dusk, yet you can never complain given his velvety voice. Sometimes it’s accompanied by the strum of an acoustic guitar or the tap of an electronic keyboard. But one thing that never changes is his love for the same old bubble gum pop music that’s rinsed and repeated on the radio. Nothing but love on the brain. Mushy lyrics that bear no meaning to you, and frankly, to anyone who’s painfully single and/or heartbroken.

You would have expected nothing less from this man though. His taste in music is a given. Most days, you can physically feel his warmth and kindness based on the dulcet timbre of his voice. Although you’ll never care to admit it to him, it helps you fall asleep on nights when you’re drained from work. They’re comforting songs that warm your heart, especially because he’s singing such sincere lyrics about his girlfriend.

His love for her is pure, and it’s disgustingly cute.

No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you’re happy for the lovely couple while internally cringing during their late night endeavors, you’re wondering if you’re subconsciously longing for a relationship just like theirs.

But you’d be crazy not to dream about that kind of love story. One in which the guy cooks a meal for you at the end of every night, served alongside a hot cup of peppermint tea to help you sleep better. In which he runs a bath for you, flower petals, candles, soap suds, and the whole shebang, only to hop right in behind you. Someone to keep you company while giving you a back massage, working on the hard-to-reach knots that line your shoulder blade after a hard work day. Of course at his own volition, never having to be asked to do so.

Perhaps you’re more invested in your neighbor’s picture perfect relationship than you thought, knowing all these little, intimate details no one else should know. But once again, the thin wall is to blame. You’re not an eavesdropper. You’re just a hopelessly hopeless romantic who needs to wake up and smell the damn roses.

Because apparently, not every relationship is as perfect as it seems.

“Everything okay?” You don’t know why you open your mouth, but you do, and you can’t take it back. He’s long since stopped singing, but the residual silence is louder than the gentle voice that once filled the space.

He sighs deeply. The frustration is unmistakable, and you regret ever saying anything.

“Yeah… Just trouble in paradise.” He chuckles dryly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it.

The room is quiet again. You debate with yourself, wondering if you should hash it out with him or go to fucking bed knowing that you have a 7 am shift tomorrow.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The kindness of your heart outweighs all else, but you cross your fingers and secretly hope that his answer is no just so you can finally get some shut-eye.

“Uhm… I wouldn’t want to bother you.” His voice wavers. He sounds tired, but maybe it’s the exhaustion from navigating the rocky waters of a relationship. You’ve been there before.

Everyone’s been there before.

Your eyes are closed, and just when you think you can go back to bed, your mind and heart betray you.

“I wouldn’t be bothered,” you tell him, “I’m already awake too.”

His chest rumbles with a true chuckle this time. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m probably gonna invest in some ear plugs tomorrow,” you quip, waving it off.

“You really don’t have to,” he deadpans. There’s a pregnant pause, and you’re left confused. He continues with a shaky breath, “I’m not sure we’ll be back together after this.”

Now you’re even more confused. Were they not just ravaging one another moments ago?

“Valentine's Day is coming up next Friday…” you muse. “You could still win her back, you know?”

The radiator whirs in the background. It’s silent.

“Do you love her?” You query, thumbing the pilled edges of your blanket.

“That’s a loaded question.”

Now it’s your turn to stay silent.

“I think I do,” he starts. His voice is rough. “Love her— I mean.” He falters in uncertainty. “Sorry, I’ve never admitted it to myself before.”

“That’s okay.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but the situation is totally out of your hands. You don’t even know the full picture, yet it somehow feels like you’re on the other side of the breakup even though you’re just sitting in the audience, watching, or rather hearing, the drama unfold.

Your fingers interlock with one another, resting over your chest as you lie flat on your back. The heavy weight of your heart sinks lower into your stomach. Maybe love isn’t real, or maybe it’s not meant for people like you and him. Or is it just some misconstrued concept jumbled up in your brain? Some romanticized notion you’ve only ever dreamed about or seen in movies and read in fanfiction?

You gulp, pondering over how things could possibly go wrong in their seemingly perfect relationship. Well, there are millions of reasons, but maybe you’ve only ever heard the good times roll. Days when they’re frolicking in a meadow of sunshine and nights when they’re singing and dancing and laughing, head over heels in love, and everything is just peachy perfect. Maybe the bad and the dirty have yet to expose itself to you, still hidden behind an extra layer of stucco drywall and eggshell paint coatings. No matter how many times you bitch about them, the innermost part of you is still rooting for the couple you’ve had the displeasure of listening to have sex every night. But it’s always worth it, or so you think, for the sake of them being in a good place. To be undoubtedly quote unquote in love—

“Have you ever been in love?” It surprises you that he’s the one asking instead of the other way around.

You stare blankly at the ceiling with a racing heart. Biting your lip, you speculate whether or not you should reveal such intimate details about your life to a total stranger.

“Nope,” you shake your head. He can’t see you, but you hope that your response is convincing enough.

“Would you want to?”

You can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, what kind of question is that?”

“You’re right, it was stupid.” He chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you warn him, “You don’t have to.”

“Sorr—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll personally come over and flick you on the forehead,” you say, reprimanding him.

His laughter is even sweeter than his voice. “Harsh. But nice? I guess?”

That’s the perfect description for someone who works in the service industry, which unfortunately, you do.

“It’s for your own good,” you suggest, nodding your head in self indulgent pleasure. Kind of like how avoiding love is for your own good.

The silence quickly settles in, as does the existential dread. Your eyes shift around to the empty apartment before you, and you soon realize that you’re painfully alone.

The radiator goes off again and the clock ticks perpetually. The moment escapes you.

His voice fills up the room. “Can I ask how you’re doing?”

The corner of your lips curl up in a fond smile. You exhale a deep sigh, one of contemplation. “I’m okay… Just... learning how to deal with unrequited love.”

“Harsh,” he echoes back.

“Yeah.” You curl up on your side, sighing and reaching for a pillow to spoon.

“Want to talk about it?”

You gnaw on your lip. It’s a bad habit to have. “There’s not much to talk about. It’s just some guy who always walks in at work. We make small talk, flirt a little bit, and then he leaves until the next day.” A highlight reel flashes before you, and you tug on your blanket, nuzzling into the warm fabric that offers you some semblance of comfort against the outside world as you dig your nose into the soft linen.

“How do you know he doesn’t like you?”

You shrug to yourself. “It’s just a feeling.”

You think the conversation is over at this point. Moments go by until your ears perk up at the faint sound of his voice. “You should ask him out.”

Your neighbor surely seems to enjoy making a fool out of you. It’s a nice thought to have though. To think that you have the confidence to ask a guy out. The guy you’re crushing on, no less.

You satiate your neighbor anyways just to entertain the idea a little longer and give him a little push towards his own love story. “Only if you make amends with your girlfriend though.”

“Girlfriend? Oh— no, she’s not my girlfriend,” he says in defense.

You’re perplexed. “Wh-? She’s not?”

“No... uh, just friends with benefits,” he confesses with a cough.

Flashbacks start to go off in your head as you try to connect the dots like some mathematical formula. Is love actually an illusion? Maybe love knows no labels, but a small part of you still wants to believe that they’re wholeheartedly in love and on the verge of marriage or something. But that delusion instantaneously bursts into dust and ashes, confirmed by none other.

“Hey, I’m kind of tired, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I’ll make it right with her so long you talk to the guy.” He lets out a huff. “Don’t let him miss out on a good thing because of the what ifs.”

Comfort washes over you at the sound of his advice. In a way, he’s right. Maybe it’s time that you put yourself out there in spite of the possibilities. Even if it’s utterly terrifying.

“Goodnight,” you mumble back, wrapping your arms securely around the pillow.

He hears you loud and clear, “Goodnight. Thanks for the talk.”

He knocks out soon after that, but it’s hard for you to sleep when you’ve got nothing but love on the brain.

Waking up is hell, especially when you’re running on nothing but 0 hours of sleep and a single cup of black coffee. The only thing that makes the fatigue worth it is the peaceful lull at sunrise and the absence of your noisy neighbor’s daily blowjob. It’s as if some higher power read your mind and decided that you’re worth the divine intervention just for that one fleeting moment of jubilation.

But just like the law of gravity, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and your contract with the universe calls for some cosmic karma. It’s like you’re being punished because you can never seem to catch a break.

Work is unusually hectic, but with Valentine’s Day around the corner, it’s expected. If Black Friday is the worst nightmare for every retail worker, one can imagine a florist’s week leading up to Single’s Awareness Day, or much less commonly referred to as “A Shallow, Capitalistic Attempt to Buy Affection Day.”

Despite owning a flower shop, you still stand firmly against Valentine’s Day and all that it represents. Maybe you’re spiteful because you’re pitifully single and surrounded by lovey dovey mush at every single corner. But as of right now, it has more to do with the extra workload that lies at your feet.

Not only do you have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to open shop and prepare for the deliveries, but you also have to cut and process flowers, organize dozens of overnight orders, and arrange bouquets for the day’s purchases, all before 9am. The to-do list is endless, and not to mention, the number of calls you’ve picked up in the last hour alone has already backed you up on a number of orders. It’s stressful and incredibly time consuming to say the least.

By 10am, you’re ready to call it quits, but you constantly remind yourself that this job is your only source of income, and therefore, you have to barrel through with a bright and shining customer service smile on your face.

At this point, you really wish you did smother yourself with your pillow last night.

But the only thing that keeps your sanity in tact after the morning rush is the chance to make arrangements for the front display. It’s therapeutic to pick and choose foliage, sprucing them into beautiful pieces of art for passersby to enjoy. You’re grateful for the scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath which is remedial to your burgeoning headache. Even the sight of your favorite carnation is enough to ease the pounding pain against your skull.

However, making arrangements isn’t all sunshine and flowers despite popular belief. The worst part about it is the heavy lifting. It’s labor intensive to pick up large plants like the full sized leatherleaf fern in the back room, which is now carefully lodged into a concoction of gardening soil, compost, mulch, and active charcoal. But if nobody else is going to do it, you’re going to have to do it alone.

Lifting the hefty plant isn’t difficult to begin with, but it progressively becomes taxing when you have to carry it to the front of the store. As you emerge from the back door, the bell of the entrance chimes, signifying a customer’s presence.

You can hear him before you can even see him.

“Good morning!”

You nearly jolt at the sound of his chipper voice. Of course Jimin had to walk in at the peak moment of you struggling, looking like a disheveled mess with soil accumulated in your hair like a burrowed nest. You just hope and pray that it’s not smeared across your forehead like Simba.

Out of pure embarrassment, you hold the pot higher to hide your burning cheeks behind the plant despite your arms giving out. Would all of your problems disappear if you act like you’re not there? Once again, of course not, because he spots you in an instant, and you’re just not fated to have the good things in life.

He calls out your name before stopping to place his things down at the table and rushing over to you, “Here, let me help you with that.”

You have an ironclad grip on that ceramic pot, holding on to it as if it’s life or death. “No, it’s okay, I got it,” you say out of pure, frantic determination.

“Don’t be silly, let me.” He reaches for the bottom of the earthenware. His hand grazes over yours before you can pull away, shifting the responsibility onto him.

You offer him a grateful smile that extends your eyes, and he sends one back your way.

“Where do you want it?” He asks. You can’t even get a word in before he turns on his heels and makes space for you through the narrow aisle.

Leading the way, you show him the spot you’ve marked for the fern to hopefully reside for the next 24 hours. “Here’s good,” you tell him, pointing to the empty tile.

Jimin bends down and gently places the plant into its new home. Then he reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out a packet of tissues before gravitating towards the spray bottle.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I could do it myself,” you whine with a slight pout.

He grips on your right shoulder, and you’re locked in place. “I know, but I want to help,” he says with the utmost care, “And you can ask me for help whenever you need it, you know?” Jimin smiles at you, and his eyes lower into crescent moon shapes, the corners slightly creasing. Before you know it, there’s a cool sensation on your forehead. The tissue in his hand is thoroughly saturated and now damp against your skin. You recoil on contact and reach for Jimin’s wrist, ready to yell at him for the lack of warning.

“Hey!”

“Stay still, you have soil on you,” he alerts with sharp eyes.

You let go of his wrist and give in to his kind gesture, murmuring out a “fine”.

While he concentrates on cleaning you up, you can’t help but look up and lock your eyes on his. You swear you could spontaneously combust and astral project from the intensity of his stare. His close proximity makes you heat up, so you’re forced to avert your eyes elsewhere out of pure intimidation. Your line of sight meets his lips, and you’re stuck in place, staring at them. They’re so pink and plush, and his tongue even pokes out a little like a sleepy kitten with slack jaw. Most of all, they’re right there in front of you, and if you could just lean in a little more, you’d be this closeー

“All clean!” He says with cheer, tapping your shoulder.

He turns around in search of the dustbin, and you shake yourself out of your own daydream before he can catch sight of you.

You laugh it off and offer him a toothy smile, “If you really want to help, you could have gotten me a cup of coffee.”

“You’re making demands now, huh?” He asks.

“It’s more like a suggestion than anything,” you teasingly yell from the back room, grabbing the remaining flowers for the display. Meanwhile, Jimin lingers behind in the main room, admiring the freshly cut flowers laid out on the counter ready to be made into floral arrangements.

You manage to recompose yourself from that one moment of weakness by taking a glance over at the cute doodles of artwork that line your office wall. They’re little bits of happiness that keep you calm and remind you that there’s light in your life, and he’s standing in the other room waiting for you to pop a very important question.

Upon grabbing the necessary items, you make your way back into the store. You stop immediately in your tracks, nearly colliding into a solid figure at the sharp turn of the doorway. Your heart almost stops, but you shudder away before you could tip yourself over.

Jimin stands in front of you with his hand extended out, clenching onto a steaming, white paper cup.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me and coffee now,” he laughs, reaching out once again, “Only one of us bites.”

“That’s for me?” You ask incredulously.

He nods his head, “Yeah, of course, silly.”

You take the drink from his hands, and before you can thank him, he chimes in. “It’s just how you like it. Black and full of caffeine.”

You press your lips up against the cup, taking a sip and humming in satisfaction at the drops of heaven. “Thanks, but why? And how’d you know my coffee order? Don’t get me wrong, this is really nice, but…”

“I saw how dead you looked yesterday,” he justifies cutting you off before you can ramble on. Honest, but harsh.

You put the cup back on the counter and continue with your task at hand, and he trails behind you.

“Thanks, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” you banter with all the sarcasm you can muster, pulling at the flower stems despite them already being placed exactly where you want them.

“Girls like it when guys pay attention to the little details, don’t they?” He asks with a gleam in his irises.

You look up at him briefly before averting his eyes and wiping clean the leaves on a near fiddle leaf tree, spraying food soil at its roots.

“Love it,” you gulp wryly.

Jimin takes note of how seemingly busy you are, so he walks around the shop, examining the new inventory of flowers. After making your round through the store, watering all the plants that need to be watered, you return to the disembodied zinnia on the counter, waiting to be arranged.

The silence is refreshing until it isn’t.

“Is the coffee good?” He queries.

“Huh?” You stop what you’re doing to casually glance his way. His back is turned to you, but he seems overly invested in the rose display.

“The coffee,” he repeats, back still turned.

You look at the untouched cup at the edge of the table and smile to yourself. You didn’t notice it before, but there’s a red doodle that contrasts against the white paper cup, no doubt customized by Jimin himself. It’s hard to pick out what it is exactly, but you’d recognize the flowers of God any day. The ruffled petals and thin, straight stem are simply unmistakable.

“Oh, yeah. It’s good,” you answer politely.

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?” He asks curiously as if he’s playing a game of 21 questions. It’s a question you’ve answered numerous times before, but facts like these can easily slip through someone’s mind.

“Easy, carnations,” you respond without any hesitation, pointing at the display in the right corner of the store when he turns around to look at you. He makes his way to the stand, eyeing the flowers.

“They’re pretty,” he comments, pulling out one of the bouquets to examine as if he didn’t already know.

You hum, and maybe the exhaustion is evident in your voice and your oddly scarce exchange of pleasantries.

Jimin carries on with the small talk anyways. “You’ve been sleeping okay?”

You snip away at the hard, green stems, tossing them into the trash beside you. Shrugging, you mindlessly answer. “Yeah, as much as a florist can during Valentine’s week.” You snicker with good spirit.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest well,” he scolds you all in good faith, eyes now scanning the small assortment of cards. You hum in affirmation.

If anything, he should be telling that to your noisy neighbor who refuses to let you get a wink of sleep.

A creak rings through the air as Jimin rotates the card stand, thumbing through the variety. “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day by the way?”

You can feel your hands clam up as they stop fiddling with the lemon leaves. Your heartbeat picks up, and you’re left winded by the question. You hide behind the hesitation, nervous as to where this may lead. How could you possibly play it cool when your crush asks you whether or not you’re busy on arguably the most romantic holiday of the year?

Play it cool because remember, you loathe Valentine’s Day.

Your hands fumble as you pick up the lemon leaves again, snipping at the branches nonchalantly. “Uh, no, not really, you?” you gulp. Your eyes are distracted, too fixed on the greenery.

But you look up the moment Jimin approaches the counter with flowers in one hand and a card in another.

“Oh, who are these for?” you feign innocence in your voice as you reach for the brown kraft paper and the roll of red ribbon.

Jimin scratches the back of his neck, hesitating. “My girlfriend,” he mumbles, but it’s loud and clear, audible enough for you to apprehend like an echo in you ear.

“I don’t have much planned yet, but we’re probably going to grab dinner on Friday,” he shrugs with hands burrowed in his pockets. He shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, eyes focused on the gray specks of the ceramic tiles beneath him. “Something casual. I’m not really huge on the whole Valentine’s Day thing.”

It seems like every man in your life paints you like a giant fool destined for humiliation. Of course the hopelessly hopeless romantic within you deluded yourself into believing that some Prince Charming would visit your flower shop in anticipation of seeing you. Of course the flowers that he buys everyday has to go somewhere, you just never expected that each and every morning at the crack of dawn, the flowers you carefully hand-pick and wrap with unconditional love would be sent off to his girlfriend.

Of course you’re a huge idiot who isn’t destined for love.

It almost hurts to plaster the tight lipped smile on your face when your heart is prickled with thorns like the roses in your hands.

You lick your lips and painfully gulp the spit down your dry throat before you open your mouth again.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

You pause. “You can’t give these to your girlfriend”

His eyebrows furrow and his hands run through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“They’re white roses.”

“So? She likes white flowers.” He doesn’t seem to get the point.

You almost chuckle in his face, and you would have if your heart didn’t hurt so damn much. So you refrain. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that white flowers are meant for funerals?”

His cheeks are dusted with a pink blush. He shakes his head no. “Uh, what do you suggest I give her then?”

You sigh, looking at the hopeless man in front of you. “Do you love her?” Not even a second goes by before you ramble, not very eager to hear the answer. “You could uh- give her that fern you helped me carry earlier.” You walk back to the front display, keeping a safe distance to hide your woe, extending your arms out like a game show host revealing what’s hidden behind door #1. (Hint: it’s your heart).

“Call it your love fern?” you shrug, laughing it off.

“I think a bouquet is fine.” Jimin staggers behind you, checking out the other flower displays, opting for door #2. “How about the carnations you mentioned?” He pulls out a bouquet of variegated carnations painted with pink and red tips. “These are nice, don’t you think?” He looks at you curiously with doe eyes in await of your approval.

Your mouth opens to interject, ready to digress into another lesson on the history of variegated carnations, but you bite your tongue back.

Jimin spots your reluctance, but quickly puts it to rest. “Look, I don’t think she really cares about the meaning behind the flowers. You said these are your favorite, and you’re the expert right?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice. “Mhmm.” Even your hum cracks. “But uh, maybe the deep red ones would be more appropriate?” You cock your head to the side and quirk your eyebrow.

“It’s fine, I swear” he reassures you, placing the bouquet on the counter before putting the white roses back in its stand.

Your feet refuse to move as if they’re cemented to the ground, but Jimin stands there in front of you with rosy eyes, awaiting for you to wrap up the object of his affection in a pretty red bow. So how could you refuse?

You walk past the carnation display on the way to the counter, and pick up another bouquet. Pink and red variegated. “Here, these are a little more fresh. The buds are tighter, so in a few days, you’ll see them nice and big.” You smile, closed lipped. “Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

Jimin’s jaw loosens and his lips part. He knits his brow in a frown. “Uh, these aren’t actually meant for Valentine’s Day,” he says, running his hand through his perfectly imperfect raven hair. “She’s kind of mad at me right now,” he gives a mirthless chuckle while playing with his hands, “so I’m hoping I can make it up to her with this.”

Ah, your favorite flowers are reduced to nothing but a gift of pity.

“She’d be crazy not to accept your apology,” you say in a soft voice, gritting your teeth behind your tense jaw, eyes fixated on the little nursling in your hold. With a soft hand, you unravel the kraft paper and delicately wrap it around the bouquet. The very one you picked up this morning and arranged the hour prior, wondering if you’ll be able to send it off to a loving home.

Now you know for a fact that it’ll be in good hands.

“Do you think she’d like it?” Jimin chirps in.

It feels like your heart is on the threshold of bleeding out as he sends another prickle to the soft organ. Your concentration doesn’t even falter as you snip the ribbon.

“I know she will.”

You tie the fabric into the prettiest bow you can muster and slide the gift of love across the glass counter. Jimin looks down at the beautifully wrapped flowers with an ear to ear smile on his face. “Thank you so much for the help, I really appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job,” you remind him with a counterfeit smile, scanning the barcode at the back of the card. It’s a really cute card too. Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me then I remember I put up with you. So we’re even ❤️

You hate yourself for the fond smile you almost crack, masked behind the pained one you send his way.

Jimin passes you a $20 bill and grabs his merchandise from the table.

“She’s really lucky to have you,” you lament honestly with glistening eyes as he walks out the front door.

He doesn’t catch a word you say, but he manages to shout back a “thank you!” and a “see you tomorrow!” before speeding out, setting off the bell at the top of the door without ever looking back at your dejected figured.

You’re left alone to finish the rest of the work day, surrounded by none other than the sickly, sweet scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath, all while taking in the putrid sight of variegated carnations.

They say that you are your worst enemy, and they are 110% correct on the matter. You don’t know why you would think that you’d have a good day on the basis of your neighbor having a crummy one. It’s not like there’s some kind of transfer of energy. It’s been proven to you time and time again that divine intervention and karmic justice just aren’t real, and apparently, neither is science. Otherwise, by that logic, you’d have a superb day.

You would have slept through last night and woken up to a pretty pink sunrise painted across the sky— nothing but peace. To the chirping of birds in the distance and to the passing of cars on an empty street. You would have had enough time to prepare a proper breakfast— pancakes, eggs, bacon, and maybe even a nice cup of hot chocolate. Not a measly cup of black coffee to keep you awake for the rest of the busy day. You would have had a nice chat with Jimin at the flower shop about the capitalistic corruption of Valentine’s Day while he’d try to convince you otherwise. He’d prove you wrong, and you would have walked home with a blooming garden in your heart.

But science is bullshit and the transfer of energy is a complete lie— photosynthesis being the only exception. The only thing you got out of today was a huge migraine and a withering blossom in your chest.

So just when you think that the day could not get any worse, it absolutely does.

You can probably blame the poor mindset you boxed yourself in— having a cynical outlook on love and life because of the dreaded upcoming holiday. Maybe it was because your crush just stomped all over your garden and plucked the flowers to give to some other girl. Or, you can put the blame on past you, the big freaking idiot who previously stripped off her bed sheets at 6:30 in the morning in hopes of being productive by doing weeks of piled up laundry. At this point, all you want to do is curl up in a warm bed, too exhausted by the trials and tribulations of life, but you can’t even give yourself the satisfaction of that because you thought you were some kind of changed woman who could manage her stupid laundry.

Newsflash, you’re not.

The naked mattress in the corner of your apartment mocks you, so grudgingly, you take your laundry basket down to the laundry room for your most hated chore. With heavy steps, you trudge through the cold, cement basement. It’s dark and dingy down there. A little scary too, given the flickering lightbulb at the end of the hallway. Nevertheless, you march through the doors and into the rumbling alcove.

What you find in there is startling, yet you can’t say that you’re surprised seeing that this occurrence is far from rare. You almost consider walking back upstairs and knocking on your floormate’s door, asking him if he’d be willing to do your laundry in exchange for $5 just so you don’t have to sit there, listening to some couple make out in the back corner.

Apparently, everyone in the world is foolishly in love except for you.

You crank up the volume a little louder so your cheap headphones can drown out the sound of them locking lips with one another, but the poor quality does absolutely nothing for your abused ears. The boisterous public display of affection is deafening over the sound of your “Wallowing in Self Pity” playlist.

You’re only capable of catching a brief glance in their direction before gagging and veering off. She’s sitting atop of the washing machine as he stands between her parted legs. They’re so lost in their own world that they don’t even notice your presence.

Out of respect for yourself and the horny couple, you choose to occupy a washing machine at the opposite corner of the laundry room. But perhaps you can save yourself the irritation as well as the $5 in your wallet because you can hear their hushed whispers. They’ve separated themselves long enough for the guy to convince her to move to a more private location. Although she still leeches herself onto his neck, he’s attentive enough to know that they aren’t alone. He picks her up and drags her out of the laundry room with her legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to part from him as if holding his hand simply isn’t enough.

You roll your eyes, thankful for the quietude and the money you’ve saved yourself, but as you sit alone in the drafty basement, doing the chore you hate the most, you can’t help but think how much better it would be to do it with someone else at your side.

Somehow you’re convinced that crossing paths with Jeongguk in the hallway is fated after thinking about him moments prior. Because it’s very uncommon for that boy to leave his apartment, cooping up all day long with his video games, only to catch a breath of fresh air for his nightly gym sessions. When you see him locking up his apartment door, you offer him $5 anyways just out of the kindness of your heart. He could probably use the money more than you anyways.

Although you didn’t have any intention of doing a good deed today, karma still finds a way to punish you. As always, it’s bullshit.

Upon entering your empty apartment, the space is already filled with the sonorous sounds of orchestral music. Violins, violas, cellos, flutes, oboes, and harps all performing in perfect harmony. It’s played through the walls, coming from none other than the speakers of your beloved neighbor. You wouldn’t mind the soothing classical melodies to cure your migraine so long it’s accompanied by white noise. But your neighbor’s laughter rings above the music as you can hear him count “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3” in a triple metre.

You know that he’s not alone because there’s also another voice laughing alongside him. The same one you’ve grown accustomed to over the months. Her high pitched squeals are unmistakable as they greatly resemble other sounds you’ve heard come from her mouth on many unfortunate nights. So you can safely assume that your neighbor and his not-girlfriend made up with one another already—

“Look at me, not at your feet!”

“I don’t know where to put them!”

“You’re stepping on my toes!”

“Sorry!”

“Oh yeah, you’ll be sorry!”

It’s hard to picture what’s happening behind the wall when you don’t have faces to match with the voices. But you don’t really need it when their bed slat creaks beneath their weight and their headboard slams against your shared wall. Not when her yelps erupt as a result of the tickle fest they’re currently immersed in. The sounds are vivid enough for you to know much more than you need to know. It almost feels like you’re intruding on an intimate moment that’s not meant for your eyes, let alone your ears.

Meanwhile, as you struggle to tuck the fitted sheets beneath the four corners of your mattress, you wonder whether it’s worth it to leave the apartment again after such a hard day. Of course for the sole purpose of avoiding a home made porn video being filmed in the process.

Maybe it’s not too late, and you can still catch up to Jeongguk. You could head to the gym and snatch back the $5 you generously handed him because the more you think about it, the more you believe that someone owes you for your miserable time spent in this apartment complex. But you can’t take your anger out on the poor boy from down the hall when he doesn’t deserve it.

The sanctuary of your bed calls your name like a siren, so instead, you do what you’re forced to always do— plug in your cheap headphones, blare out some music, and move on with your day.

And it works for the most part.

You’re able to successfully put on your bed sheets after struggling to play a big game of tug of war with your mattress. Despite the internal push and pull, you also will yourself to do adult things like tidying up the studio, making the space somewhat habitable for humans. By 9pm, you can finally sit down and enjoy a nice, hot meal. However, you’re forced to keep your headphones on because your neighbor’s not-girlfriend decided that she couldn’t go a single day without her not-boyfriend’s dick in her mouth.

You swear you’re going to ask him tonight why he hasn’t made it official because it’s clear as day that they’re in love with one another. You know that you definitely would be if someone offered you oral every single day. Unfortunately, nobody’s offering. Thus, you’re forced to live vicariously.

So as midnight approaches, and the moon reaches its apex, you settle into bed with a book in hand, ready to suffer through the night. It’s difficult to concentrate on the text when your music is blasting, but you suppose it’s better to listen to lo-fi hip hop beats as opposed to the scream of “daddy” over and over and over…

Although you applaud her for her shamelessness, you would still prefer if she could keep to herself.

Thankfully, these moments are only temporary.

With your eyes squeezed shut, you let out a lethargic yawn. Looking over at your nightstand, you spot your ticking alarm clock. It’s nearing 1 in the morning, and you decide that you’re exhausted. Well, you’ve decided that long ago, but going to bed before midnight is admitting defeat against your own body. Nevertheless, no matter how tired you are, you know in the back of your mind that there’s no way you could have dozed off with your neighbors going on a Netflix binge with speakers fully blaring audio from The Office. It’s as if they don’t know what headphones are.

But after “one more episode” and a disgustingly long makeout session, you can hear the shuffle of feet across the floor boards and the turning of the lock.

It’s nearly 2 am, and the radiator hisses. It’s quiet.

But then that’s when you hear it like clockwork. The delicate hum before the pleasant tune. Tonight, it’s not a song you’re familiar with. Something about the universe moving and happiness that’s meant to be. Mentions of penicillium and a calico cat? There’s lots of talk about letting someone love you, and that’s when it really hits you in the gut. You’re not so sure about the song, but as always, it sounds pretty. It’s not typical to call a guy’s voice beautiful, but it is what it is. It’s serene, and it’s the promise of tomorrow. It’s something you wish that would never stop.

But of course all good things come to an end.

There’s a purposeful knock against the wall which startles you. “Hey, I know you’re up. How’d your day go?” Your neighbor asks, breaking the silence and dragging your attention towards his voice once again.

You tug your headphones off and walk to the other side of the apartment to lay your book down on the desk, gracefully avoiding anything in your wake because your apartment is finally clean.

“You know, sometimes I wish you would catch me on my good days so I wouldn’t have to tell you such sad stories.” A wary smile surfaces your lips.

“Why, what happened today?” He asks with concern laced in every syllable. “Did you take my advice?”

You climb back into bed, pulling your covers over your torso. Sometimes you feel bad about how many silent complaints you have about your neighbor when he’s actually a really nice guy. He just lacks the proper etiquette knowing that the walls are paper thin.

“IIIIIII tried to.” You drag out the vowel, hesitant to recall the embarrassing story.

“Yeah, and how’d it go?”

“He doesn’t like me back,” you say plainly after a moment’s reflection.

Your neighbor scoffs. “He’s an idiot then.”

You try to fight back the smile because as untrue as it is, Jimin is anything but an idiot. But it’s comforting to know that someone has your back, defending you in all your honor.

This time, you genuinely chuckle. “It’s not that.... He uh, actually has a girlfriend.” It hurts to admit it out loud. “And I’m sure she’s lovely if he likes her that much.”

“Like I said, he’s an idiot for losing out on the best thing in his life.”

It’s impossible for you to fight back this bashful smile because it makes your heart flutter. This may be the first time you’ve felt good about yourself this whole day.

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that though—”

He interrupts you, “Come on, don’t say that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’ve never even met me, and you don’t even know what I look like.” You roll your eyes, but a chuckle unintentionally falls from your lips.

“It’s not about what’s on the outside, okay? I already know you’re beautiful because that’s what you are on the inside.”

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” You flip over on your bed and dig your face into the pillow, flustered by his kind words. There’s absolutely no way people this nice exist in this world. “I could be a troll or a vampire or something for all you know.”

“Vampires are kinda hot. Haven’t you seen Twilight?” He banters. “And I’m sure this guy isn’t even all that great. Like, tell me something you hate about him.”

Your hands cover your mouth, stifling a laugh. “I’m not gonna hate on him because he doesn’t like me back. It’s just the reality of it. Besides, he’s perfect.” You roll your eyes, annoyed by how flawless Jimin is in your eyes.

Your neighbor prods at you. “I reaaallly doubt that. There has to be something. Not even a pet peeve? Maybe he’s chronically late to everything? Sings out loud in a quiet place? Has a super annoying laugh?”

“Yes, yes, and no.” You flip your pillow over to the cold side and settle in to lie in a more comfortable position, slipping your hand beneath the cushion. “I can excuse the lateness,” you lick your chapped lips. “He also sings like an angel, and his laugh is really endearing. He does this thing where he laughs with his whole body, and he falls over every time. I like it because I know he’s at his happiest then,” you remember zealously.

“Damn, I guess I’m just projecting my own flaws now, huh?” You can hear him snort from laughter, rolling his neck and cracking the joints in his body, and then the click of his knuckles, 10 of them, one after another.

“Ugh,” you scrunch your nose, “Don’t do that. He does it too, and I guess that’s the only thing he does that really gets to me.”

Your neighbor cracks another joint somewhere on his body just to annoy you, and you cringe. “See, now we’re talking.”

“I was gonna tell you that you sing well too and that I like your laugh, but maybe I’ll have to reconsider,” you taunt. “But still, you shouldn’t put yourself down for the things that show off your happiness.”

The bed creaks from the other side. He must have switched positions for that to happen. “Thanks,” he offers. His voice is muffled, face most likely pressed up against his own pillow. “How about you tell me about the things you like about him?”

“What? Are you trying to wound me?” You ask, slightly hurt.

He scoffs, “No, I’m trying to prove a point here. So, tell me.” He implores like this is some kind of couple’s therapy session. Apparently, without your other half.

As moonlight filters through your curtains and the cars whiz by on the empty street below you, you consider all the things you love and appreciate about Jimin.

“I love how selfless he is. He’s caring and attentive... He’ll know when I’m tired and he’ll offer me coffee. He also scolds me for sleeping late and he lifts my burdens for me, even when I don’t ask him to.” You close your eyes in retrospect of Jimin and all the good things in life that he embodies. “It’s not even the things that he does for me that make me like him.”

Your neighbor hums, letting you continue.

“I guess it’s the principle that’s important.” You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, pulling on the edges to give yourself some comfort. “There are people in this world who aren’t… the nicest? I guess. And… he’s one of the purest people I know. It’s like he goes the extra mile to make sure I’m happy… and healthy.” You take a deep sigh before your mind wanders to the darker parts of your brain. “But I also know he treats everyone else like that too. Because he’s that nice. So... I guess I should have seen it coming that I wasn’t so special anyways,” you recall with tears welling up in the brim of your eyes and a knot tightening in your throat.

“Don’t say that, you’re one of a kind,” he assures you sternly, “What’s his name? I’ll go beat him up right now.”

You give a bitter laugh, wiping away at your eyes with the back of your hands.

“My point is that there are other guys out there who are just as caring. And they should make you feel special because you are, and it’s what you deserve. So if the next guy who comes along doesn’t treat you that way, I will beat his ass, okay?” He says in the most nonthreatening voice ever.

You chortle, “Okay, yeah, sure.” You’re not totally convinced of that.

“You’re probably right, I don’t want to fight and embarrass myself after promising you that,” he giggles.

“I appreciate the sentiment though.” Earnestly, you do. You don’t know many guys who are this nice, Jimin being the exception. “How ‘bout you though? It sounds like you made up with your not-girlfriend? I hope that wasn’t you in the laundry room earlier,” you tease, deflecting the attention away from you with a raised voice.

He gladly takes the bait. “Oh shit, that was you? I’m so sorry.” He rolls around the bed in a fit of sweet laughter, and the slat creaks. “And yeah, we did,” he breathes out with a shallow huff after regaining composure. He sounds nonchalant about it.

“You don’t sound very happy?”

“No, I am,” he deadpans.

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Can you tell me what it is that you like about her?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately like you’d expect, but he’s dwelling on the answer.

“I love how kind hearted she is,” he thinks out loud. “She’s a natural nurturer.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and you can’t help but reciprocate because of how pure that is.

“Like... she’s always so bright, and…” he stops. “I just don’t know how to explain it. You’d have to meet her to know what I mean.”

“Yeah you should invite me over so I can meet her.” You both chuckle knowing that you should meet one another before meeting his fuck buddy.

“I think you’d like her actually. She has this beautiful soul… I- I don’t even know. She just sees the best in everyone. I know that she probably has her own struggles, but I don’t think she’ll ever let anyone know about them,” he mulls over, going on a tangent.

“Why’s that?” You curl up on your side, hugging your pillow like you do during every conversation with him. It’s as if he’s recalling a bedtime story for you. You let out another yawn, and although you’re on the verge of falling asleep, you stay up a little longer just to hear him talk.

“I’m not so sure why… I guess I love her and hate her for this...” He reflects.

You hum, acknowledging him while urging him to continue his train of thought.

“I don’t know... but she’s the type to suffer in silence for the sake of seeing other people around her smile. And… I don’t think she’ll ever admit when she’s hurt or when she needs help. She puts others before herself. Like, she’s so hellbent on putting on a happy face so that others can be happy too.”

You nod to yourself, understanding what he means with every word.

“And It’s not like she fakes her happiness or anything,” he continues as if clarification is needed. “She’s just… such a joy to be around. She makes everyone feel welcomed… and comfortable… And when she’s really happy, like genuinely happy, it feels like everything is right in the world.”

You can tell he has a big, doting smile on his face. One simply cannot talk about a love like this and not smile.

“I only wish that she’d be vulnerable with me so I can make her world a little brighter too.”

“That’s really sweet, and also, I lowkey feel attacked right now,” you let out a dry chuckle.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But I think that’s why you two would get along well.”

“Set up a date, and I’ll come over,” you joke with raised brows.

“Hmm… I’ll have to think about it,” he teases. “Oh, but uhm... if we’re still on the conversation of what I like about her, physically, I love her smile. I swear to God I stopped in my tracks the first time I saw her… and it still happens every time.”

“That’s cute,” you smile fondly.

“When she looks at me, I think the whole world stops for a second because I can actually feel myself get vertigo,” he giggles innocently. “And she’s also got this super adorable snort-laugh that never fails to bring out the best in me. God, it’s beyond cute, you don’t even know.”

“It sounds like you’re in love,” you suggest, curling up tighter into a ball, squeezing at your pillow. “I don’t see why you haven’t made it official yet.”

The pause is filled by the whirring of the radiator and the ticking of the clock.

“Yeah… I don’t know either.”

Waking up, you find out that going to bed with a broken heart is a little easier than going to bed with a hopeful one. Perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion that puts you to rest, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less fatigued. All your efforts are put into your work, and in a way, tending to flowers has served as a distraction from the wilting ones that reside in your chest.

When in reality, you should find a way to revive those instead.

But as Jimin stands before you, you can’t resist the shriveled petals that land in the pit of your stomach like cherry blossoms in the midst of spring. You really don’t know how you manage to bear discourse about Valentine’s Day when he’s unknowingly sitting there with wide eyes, listening to you talk about unreciprocated love that’s so obviously directed towards him.

“You mean to tell me that you read romance novels and watch rom-coms, but you hate the most romantic holiday of the year?”

“Exactly,” you nod as if it’s indisputable.

He gives you a questioning look with a crease on his forehead and lips pressed together in a straight line. “Make it make sense,” he challenges.

You finish chewing on the forkful of salad you popped into your mouth before answering. “Can I rant about it?”

Jimin gives you the go ahead and you continue, “I don’t think you understand how much of a die-hard hopeless romantic I am.”

“Actually, I think I do,” he scoffs and raises his shoulders confidently with eyes closed as if it’s a matter of fact. “That doesn’t prove your point though,” he counters.

You put your hand up, motioning him to stop interrupting, “Let me finish.”

Jimin shrugs and grins from across the counter, allowing you to proceed.

“When I love something, I put my heart and soul into it. I believe in passion, chivalry, and true love.” He hums in agreement as you count down each item with your fingers as if it’s an unofficial list of all the things that encompass a hopeless romantic. “And for me, Valentine’s Day is a poor excuse to spend money and show off all the things you’ve received from your significant other.”

“That’s valid,” Jimin nods, agreeing while munching on his fries.

“Like, why spoil someone on this particular day? What happens during the other 364 days?” You spew.

Jimin mouths “365,” correcting you on the technicalities of a leap year.

You click your tongue, moving on to the point. “Are they not cherished for the rest of the year? I would hope that my boyfriend makes me feel special for more than a single night.” Your forehead creases, too livid at this point to even realize how sadly single you sound.

You’re too busy ranting, accidentally speaking over Jimin to hear him reassure you that you are special. “Also there’s just so much pressure to make the night special, as if they have to plan something, otherwise they’re not the ‘perfect couple’ or the ‘perfect man.’” You emphasize with air quotes.

“I felt that one,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You see my point now?” You acknowledge him sullenly. There’s a tug on your heartstrings at the mention of his girlfriend, but you drive your point forward in hopes of changing the direction of topics. You don’t even want to think about whether or not he’s made plans with his girlfriend yet.

“And what’s the deal with chocolates?” You yell, completely frustrated, throwing your arms up. “They’re totally overpriced. And cards? Cheesy and terrible. My Instagram feed? Flooded with PDA, and it's a big stab at singles like me.” You enunciate angrily, driving your fork harshly into your salad once again.

He laughs and nearly falls off the stool he’s sat on top of before swiftly catching himself. You snicker at his unadulterated cuteness.

“How ‘bout flowers?” He questions with ketchup lingering on the corner of his mouth.

Picking up a napkin from the edge of the counter, you mindlessly reach across to wipe at his lips, still in the process of ranting. “Don’t get me started on flowers,” you shake your head, folding up the napkin on the table. Jimin smiles at you as your eyes train on the fork that digs through your salad, stabbing into the poor vegetables. “Florists overcharge for them, and I hate it because I didn’t get into this business for the purpose of cheating people out of their money.” At this point, you’re rolling your eyes, seething at the thought of Valentine’s Day.

“Why’d you get into the business then?” He asks, silently offering his fries to you, the ones you’ve been eyeing ever since he revealed his lunch.

“Because I love flowers,” you say plain as day, reaching to grab a fry. “Because they make me happy, and when I send them off to someone, I know it’ll make their day a little brighter too.”

You wave the fry around in the air before sticking it in your mouth. Capping off your empty bowl of salad, you don’t seem to notice how Jimin looks at you and the understated beauty you exude.

“It’s cheesy, I know! You don’t have to look at me like I’m crazy,” you whine, briefly looking up at him with round eyes, turning around to toss your garbage.

Jimin flashes you a big, toothy smile, “No, you’re not crazy. You’re just... exactly what I thought you were.” His voice is low, almost as if he’s thinking to himself. As if they’re words you’re not meant to hear.

“Thanks? I think,” you giggle, unsure what he means. “Are you saying I’m predictable?” You inquire.

“I meant refreshing.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes form as he grins. “I’m just trying to figure out why you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day.”

“First of all, I don’t need a date,” you say in defense, teasingly offended.

“I know that, and you know what I mean. But you deserve to be treated like you’re speー”

“Second of all, I do have one.”

“Oh. You do?” He asks, creasing his brows and biting his plush lips.

“Yeah, with myself,” you jest with a smile, elbows resting on the counter with hands cupping your face.

Jimin’s chest deflates with an exhale, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding. “What, are you gonna watch The Notebook until you cry?” He pokes at your shoulder like a tease.

“I’m not that predictable,” you eye him with a gleam in your iris, fully knowing that it is the case. “But maybe,” you affirm with a sly smirk, “after I close up the shop at midnight though.”

“Knew it,” he scoffs. “But why are you closing so late? You should go home early so you can cry and watch The Notebook.”

“Mmm.” You hum, standing up from your stool and turning to hide the downturn of your lips. Running a rag underneath the faucet, you turn to wipe down the counter free of any crumbs. Jimin lifts his elbow up as you glide the cloth across the glass until it’s squeaky clean. “Let’s not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day, and I run a flower shop, Jimin. People are going to come by for a bouquet until the last second.” You exasperate, shaking your head in disapproval of all the last minute shoppers.

“You can’t get anyone else to lock up?” He suggests.

“They’ll hate me forever if I force them to work until midnight,” you reason, “Besides, it’s not like they’re single, so it’s fine. I can do it myself.”

“I really think you should be resting though. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, right?” He asks with concern in his intonation.

“I can take care of myself, I promise. I’m gonna treat myself after work anyways.” You do a little dance that consists of shimmying your shoulders and bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet.

He smiles at you endearingly with wide eyes, “I don’t think crying to The Notebook is a form of treating yourself.” He repeats as if the joke will never die.

You shake your head and click your tongue exclaiming, “If you must know, I’m gonna bake cookies.”

“Are you gonna share with me?” He pleads.

Your tongue pokes at your inner cheek as if you’re thinking about it. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might eat them all in one night.” Your lips purse in a taunt.

His mouth forms a pout, and you’re forced to give in to him and his bright puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, but only because you asked so nicely, I guess I can make some extras,” you groan, pressing your lips together straight like an arrow. You nudge his shoulder with your own despite the squeeze at your heart and the softening of your eyes, “For you and your girlfriend.”

It’s not like you had to mention it. But it’s been on your mind since yesterday, and you’re sure that the only way to fix a broken heart is to learn to accept it. Even if it means plucking out the thorns that are lodged in your heart until it feels numb. Empty and devoid of life.

“Girlfrie- oh, right, right. That’d be nice,” he sputters out, body stiffening, “Butー”

“Maybe I can bake them Thursday night?” You offer. “So you can pick them up on Friday if you buy flowers for her?” Your eyes blink in a failed attempt to wink.

Jimin stifles a laugh at your pitiful endeavor. It’s really pathetic how hard you try, pretending that you’re not hurt right in front of the guy who stormed into your garden.

But you suppose flowers can’t grow without a little bit of downpour.

He licks his lips, and his smile falters. “Riiight, but it’s okay, you should enjoy your cookies on Friday night because I’m not sure I’ll be around to buy flowers that day anyways.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, perplexed, head cocked to the side.

“Uh, don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, brushing it off before taking a look at his watch. “I have to head back to work though, my break is almost ending.” You watch him carefully with narrowing eyes as he collects his belongings, scrambling to head out the door. With the exit half opened, he turns around to bid you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

The bell chimes and he’s out of sight.

You can’t even process his words because you’re too busy staring at the exit trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Adulthood is just an endless cycle of sleeping and working, but it seems like you’re lacking in the former activity seeing that all you do is work. In the final stretch of Valentine’s Day, with a few more days to go, you’re just about ready to crash and burn.

Upon entering your quiet apartment tonight, you fail to do anything productive. You nose dive into bed and curl up into a cocoon at the strike of 10 pm. Somehow, you don’t even care enough to tug off your jeans or remove your smudged makeup. You’re ready to accept the consequences of bad skin and a stained pillowcase because the only thing that matters is that you knock out the moment your head hits the soft linen. There’s no time to replay the events of today or plan for tomorrow when your eyelids weigh you down into a deep slumber.

There’s not a single thing that can spur you. Not even the shining of the moonlight over your profile or the rhythmic whizzing of cars on the empty street beneath you. Even when there’s a police siren ringing in the distance or a rumble from a descending airplane in the atmosphere above you, you don’t bat an eye. You can’t even hear the hum of the rusty pipelines when your neighbor hops into the shower at the breach of dawn. Even the whirring radiator and the ticking clock blurs into nothing but white noise.

They’re all there to keep you company as you lie down in a bed of withered roses. To offer you comfort in your barren Renaissance garden.

You can’t seem to put your finger on it, but you wake up feeling like it’s the best night of rest you’ve gotten in the last week despite it being a short lived slumber. It’s definitely the most consistent night of sleep you’ve had in a while. And even though you went to bed without dinner, it didn’t hinder your sleep whatsoever. It only means that you can eat a full breakfast to power through the day.

And powering through is what you do best.

Apparently, the world is up against you because you can’t remember the last time you even got to sit down. You’re constantly on your feet, attending to customers and fulfilling orders. There’s no time to breathe even when you’re literally enclosed in a greenhouse. There’s always something to do, and stopping to take a break means slowing down the process. It’s not an option you want to take.

At the end of each day, you’re wobbling back home with sore muscles and blurred vision. Your ability to function is beyond your own imagination. Your definition of “functioning” has diminished to standing on your own two feet although that still bears a challenge for you.

The sustenance in your body is nearly nonexistent, especially because you’ve been neglecting your self-care. Typically, you don’t think about eating on the job. It’s honestly not on your mind because there are only two things that occupy your brain space: (1) Work and (2) Jimin.

Somehow, Jimin takes better care of you than you do yourself. And without him around, you’re a walking corpse. He’s always providing you with lunch and snacks, leaving you sticky notes with reminders to hydrate yourself. You didn’t realize that you needed him this much to remind you of the simple tasks like drinking or eating or… smiling.

Sometimes he draws cute flowers or scribbles plant puns on the post-it notes, sticking them onto obscure places that are hard for you to find. Your favorite one being the time he wrote “I love it when you call me big poppy.”

He claims that the notes are designed to make you laugh, even for the few that are not very funny. They definitely do brighten your day, especially when you have the ephemeral chance to glance at them hanging up above your desk in the back office. Smiling at the itty-bitty illustrations has become second nature to you. When you’re going through a rough day, aka everyday, and you’re in need of a breather, you wander into the back room to pace around, only to come face to face with a kaleidoscope of doodled butterflies spanned across a string of rainbow post it notes.

He once drew a sunflower and said something cheesy about how your laughter is the embodiment of sunshine— how it would be a crime against the flora population if you were to go a day without laughter.

It was corny and far from being right, but it was so perfectly Jimin.

When he does stupid shit like that, it makes you feel like the biggest lovesick idiot in the world. In your naive past, you thought that the smiles he sent your way were ones reserved for you and only you. You were convinced that the shameless flirting was a silent mechanism used to express his inclination towards you. You assumed that the daily visits to your flower shop were formidable attempts to get to know you better. A little part of you hoped that the songs he shared with you equated to sharing a piece of his heart.

You absolutely were sharing. You just didn’t realize that you’d be sharing with someone else.

So when Jimin consigns adorable puns that melt your heart, and he stops by with a cup of coffee, just know that they’re acts of friendship. When he spends his lunch breaks at the flower shop and sings songs that remind him of you, he’s coming from a place of kindness, not attraction.

It is true that Jimin’s your sunshine, but it’s also a fundamental principle to botanists that too much of something is bad enough, and too much of nothing is just as tough. And deceiving yourself into believing that he was all that you needed had scorched up all the flowers in your garden.

The drought he put you in didn’t prepare you enough for the brewing storm.

It pains you to say that you need him more than he needs you because even if he isn’t romantically interested in you, you would have hoped that he’d stick around as a friend. His waning presence leads you to believe that he’s simply not interested.

Maybe you were too invested in what could have been between the two of you, you failed to see what was right there in plain sight.

Somehow, you still wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. And it’s pathetic granted you’re incredibly busy with work and your own crippling health. Yet thoughts of him still pop up throughout the day more than you would like. No matter how much you want to forget about your infatuation, you simply can’t will him away because of how often his beautiful face flashes before your eyes. You want to push him to the back of your mind, but whether you’re in need of a breather during your hectic schedule, admiring his stupid puns and butterfly mosaics, or you’re in need of some company in your eerily quiet apartment, doing laundry or having a meal all to yourself, you still can’t get the sound of his sweet laughter out of your head.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but you manage to close up shop long before midnight. It’s a blessing and a curse because you are absolutely wiped out. Not only are you mentally checked out, but ironically, your flower shop is destitute of flowers, completely sold out from the holiday. As you clean up the barren space, you can’t help but feel as if a big weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The stress of Valentine’s Day is over, and you can finally go home, lie in bed with a tray of cookies, and enjoy the beauty that is Ryan Gosling.

You even consider closing the store all of tomorrow because you need the day off to recharge. So as you print out and paste your notice on the glass door, you’re dumbfounded to come across a sliver of paper that’s already attached on the other side. Opening up the door and letting in a gust of cold air breeze by you, you remove the sticky note that’s been unknowingly attached to your entrance.

Not a daisy goes by that I don’t think of you.

The smile that tugs on your lips grapples against the ache in your heart. Quickly, the fond smile melts into one of hurt and disappointment. Your left hand balls into a tight fist, marring crescent moon shapes into your palms. Meanwhile, your right hand delicately fiddles with the tiny square between your fingers, debating whether or not you should crumple up the paper and toss it away to be long forgotten. You’ve never been so confused about your feelings until Park Jimin came into your life, but you tuck the little daisy doodle into the pocket of your coat with a sigh.

With every passing year, Valentine’s Day becomes a little more bearable than the previous. Tonight feels like any other night, but better. You’ve come to accept that if there isn’t someone who can make you feel special, you might as well do it yourself.

Making a meal for you that doesn’t consist of ramen or 5 minute rice while dimming the lights and sparking up some candles is undeniably part of the healing process. And that’s what tonight mainly consists of. It’s all about love and self-care.

With your laptop perched on top of your dinner table and your Netflix queue lined up, you mindlessly mix at your wet and dry ingredients with a wooden spoon. Nothing has made you feel more at ease than the comfort of watching your favorite movie on repeat and the sweet taste of raw cookie dough on your tongue. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life that can put a smile on your face.

As you wait for your cookies to bake, you settle into bed with your legs crossed and back pressed against the headboard. Laughter from the speakers of your laptop fill the space, and you can’t help but laugh along with the characters, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of your apartment complex. The rumble of your laughter subsides, and the movie rolls on from scene to scene.

Your ears perk up like Pavlov’s dog when the oven goes off. You turn your head so quickly you nearly get whiplash, but it’s all worth it for the love of chocolate chip cookies. The aroma of sugar is enough to will yourself out of bed and conveniently press pause on Ryan Gosling’s charming face.

Pulling on your oven mitts to retrieve the hot platter, your body begins to sway around to the sudden echo of music. The soft guitar strums reverberate through the walls and against the vacant space of your studio. Your body stops moving to the acoustics when you realize where the noise is coming from. Looking up, your eyes bore into the eggshell walls as if you can see through it. But you soon space out, focusing on the vibrations of the nylon strings instead.

The song fades out and the quietude breaks you out of your reverie. You blink in confusion, trying to remember the last time you heard from your neighbor. Although you haven’t spent much time in your apartment in the past week, you miss the late night chats with him. Lately, you’ve been knocking out as soon as your head hits the pillow for some much needed rest. You haven’t heard his voice in forever, and especially not his angelic singing voice. Even tonight he refrains from singing in place of just practicing his guitar.

It’s a bit out of the ordinary.

His side of the wall is surprisingly quiet tonight. You would have expected him to be out and about with his girlfriend, but at this point of the night, they would have been jumping at each other's bones. Yet the gentle patter of footsteps and the lack of banging would suggest that he’s flying solo tonight.

Despite your curiosity, you’re not sure whether or not you’d want to bring it up in case it reopens some wounds. You think it’s best to leave it alone for the time being until he’s ready to come to you instead.

So as you proceed with bingeing your movies, there’s something in the back of your mind that still distracts you. It’s literally a crime that you’ve sat through 2 hours of The Notebook, yet you haven’t shed a single tear because you’re not even focused on the film in front of you. Rather, you’re thinking long and hard about the last time you heard your neighbor laugh in sincerity.

You really couldn’t care any less about the end credits that roll in front of you. Rather, with your chin propped up in the palm of your hands, you listen intently to what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It’s bizarrely quiet, aside from the sad symphony of string instruments that ring in the background of the ending credits.

When your screen turns black, you shut off your laptop and stow it away, knowing in your heart that you’re no longer in the mood for a romantic movie marathon. You make your way into your kitchen and reach for the cookies that have cooled off by now. But somehow, it feels wrong to sit here in enjoyment of your own company. Yet at the same time, this batch of cookies was the only thing you were looking forward to all week.

Nothing seems to satisfy you.

The only desire that creeps upon you is the desire to spend the night with someone else by your side. Frankly, it’s stupid because you know that you don’t need a man, and even the whole world knows that you don’t need one. Especially not on Valentine’s Day because you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate February 14th with every fibre of your being.

However, the idea of having a friend at your side doesn’t seem so bad at this point.

You transfer all the cookies from the tray onto a smaller plate, arranging the delectable morsels into a presentable fashion.

With your slippers on, you make your way out of your apartment, letting the door close softly behind you. Standing in front of your neighbor’s abode, you nervously shift your weight on the heels of your feet. Midnight is approaching, and you wouldn’t want to disrupt his night like this, but it just feels right to knock on his door and offer your company. Just to check up on him because perhaps he’s in need of some companionship just like you. And who wouldn’t want some chocolate chip cookies? Baked with 80% sugar and 100% love.

Mustering up all the courage in your body, your hand comes up in a tight fist, knocking at the wooden door. You wait a moment, but to your dismay, there’s no evidence of movement on the other side of the partition. You would have heard his footsteps by now, and perhaps the turning of the deadbolt, but it’s dead silent.

Perhaps he didn’t hear you, so you knock a little harder this time.

Nothing.

As you stand outside, lost in naivety, you wonder whether you should try to make a fool of yourself and knock again. It’s been a good 5 minutes of you debating between speaking up to get his attention or giving up and retreating to your studio in embarrassment. Then you mentally facepalm yourself remembering that it’s incredibly rude of you to drop by without any kind of warning.

But still, you had his best interests in mind.

You think that the third time’s the charm, so in a last attempt, you knock with full force.

“Uhh, hey!” Your voice shakes and cracks. Blame it on the nerves. “I made some cookies, and I thought I’d share some!” You semi-yell in hopes of catching his attention.

“One second!” Oh, thank God. You can hear the bed frame creak on the other side and the skid of footsteps across the floor boards.

Your heartbeat weirdly picks up because of the fact that this is quite literally the first time you’ve come face to face with your neighbor. The late night chats with him have always made you feel comfortable, but there’s a certain nuance to meeting him that shakes your nerves.

You brace yourself as you hear the lock turn, eyes casting down towards the plate in front of you.

“I didn’t know that today’d be the day we meet like thiー” He says as the door swings open.

You look up expecting to greet him with a smile, but the one you had prepared falters from your lips.

“What’re youー”

“Y- You liveー”

You stutter over one another, lost in confusion. Staring into the very familiar set of brown eyes in front of you, you’re confounded by your new discovery.

Jimin stands before you, running his hand through his black locks as he opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you through.

“Hey, neighbor?” He sounds disoriented, untrusting of his voice.

You’re stood frozen at the foot of the entrance, unsure as to how you could possibly process all of this.

“I heard you made cookies?” He asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Here, come in.” He gently tugs on your sleeve, coddling you because of the state of shock you’re in.

You nod your head, barely cognizant of what’s being said. But your feet still shuffle through the entryway, and you slide off your slippers at the front door.

“This is so crazy,” he says, taking the plate of cookies off your hands. You’re both surprised that you have yet to drop them. He places the plate onto his coffee table, and his back is turned to you as you stand to the side, playing with the sleeves of your sweater.

How much weirder can this situation possibly get?

“You mean to tell me that we’ve been neighbors all this time and we didn’t even know?” You ask, sucking your lips inward, cocking your head to the side. Your words are a jumbled mess, but Jimin has become a master at deciphering your incoherent words through the thin walls many nights in a row.

“I’m just as surprised as you! I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots?” He exclaims in dismay, patting the seat beside him on the couch as an invitation to you.

Your brain feels as if it’s lost all of its cells because you have so many questions, yet you can’t seem to articulate them. As you sit down, you close your eyes and rub at your temples, praying that you’d wake up from this odd dream.

“There’s no way I could have connected the dots,” you sputter in collection of your thoughts, completely exasperated. “I just don’t understand.”

You fiddle with your fingers, and Jimin takes your hand in his. His touch is soft, and as much as you want to pull away, you give into him because there’s no way you’d ever deny him, especially not when he looks at you with those big round eyes.

“I have so many questions,” you admit, rubbing at your eyelids.

“Shoot.”

“Uhm,” your head shakes wildly. “I don’t even know where to begin?” Your eyes widen, shocked by how nonchalant he’s acting. As if he didn’t just lead you on and ghost you days on end, pretending that everything’s okay now.

“Take your time,” he chuckles reassuringly, offering you a calming smile.

“Uhm… How are you? I guess? Th- that’s kind of the first thing I wanted to ask you before… I- you know.”

Your heart gallops because he’s looking at you, biting his lip. And you, you are completely weak for the man who holds all of your affection in the palm of his hands, yet you can’t handle his smoldering stare, so you avert your eyes elsewhere. This is downright cruel and unusual punishment.

You continue, “Because I haven’t spoken to you much lately, you know?”

“You wanted to check up on me?”

You blink away, eyes now focused on the vase of wilting flowers on the coffee table. Pink and red variegated carnations. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself and regulate your breath. Your body stiffens and your shoulders tense. Even your jaw tightens, but you manage to nod your head.

“I’ve been better,” he admits sullenly.

Your hand lets go of his, pulling back to seek comfort at your side. It just doesn’t feel right to hold his hand so intimately when he’s made a mess of your head and your heart. You just can’t do it to yourself, and you can’t do it to him or his girlfriend. Especially not when his heart belongs to her.

You open your mouth as if you have another question to ask, but none of them are coherent enough to utter. There’s plenty of noise ringing in your head, but it’s all nonsense.

Jimin gently rests his hand on the ball of your knee, almost like a graze, but his touch is hot, and you brush him off with the recoil of your leg.

His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. His hands retract to his lap, respecting your wishes. He gulps, and noticeably the lump in his throat goes down in a swallow.

“Hey, it’s just me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.” He displays his palms out to you as a peace offering. A symbol of vulnerability. The tension in the air is palpable, but you still manage to keep your guard down in front of him.

Because this is Jimin. The guy you’ve come to know and unfortunately love. But it’s just that you’ve never seen Jimin like this.

“Yeah and that’s kind of the problem,” you breathe out. Your brows knit into a frown, and he looks at you in bewilderment, with wide eyes, parted lips, and stress tousled hair. “I- I don’t know if you’re Jimin the mysterious neighbor who’s been nothing but nice to me, or Jimin the guy from the flower shop who pretty much made it loud and clear he doesn’t want to see me,” you scoff.

“B- butー What do you mean? We’re the same person.” His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head subtly trying to convince you. He fiddles with his fingers, cracking his knuckles out of bad habit. Shifting his body so his knees are pointed towards yours, nearly in contact, he refrains from the much needed skinship. The heat radiating from his body is something you’re familiar with, and although it once brought you comfort, you can only feel resentment.

“Of course I want to see you? Iー I?” He’s a stuttering mess, shaking his head from side to side as if you’ve got it all wrong, but you interject because you have so much to say, yet you haven’t expressed yourself to your liking just yet.

“I don’t know about that!” Your hands clench up at your sides until your knuckles turn sharp. “Because neighbor Jimin is telling me he has a fuck buddy he thinks he’s in love with, and flower shop Jimin has a girlfriend he doesn’t want to talk about. So what is it? I’m hearing a lot about mixed feelings for this one person, and… if you’re involved with someone, I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” you spit out more harshly than expected, inching further and further away to the edge of the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. You gulp down a thick glob of spit in hopes of washing down the acidic sting in your throat, but it’s like bile just sits there on your tongue.

“Let me explain, okay?” He begs of you.

You sit there in sullen silence, staring at the carnations in your peripherals, ready to have him break your heart all over again. You nod, but you don’t even bother turning to face him, unsure whether or not you’d be able to hear him talk about how he’s in some complicated relationship with someone else.

“Please, look at me?” he pleads with a sniffle, “I need to know if you’re okay.” His voice cracks, and you finally look his way. You’re far from okay, but seeing him with glossy eyes, you also know that he isn’t either.

He licks his lips, and his hand comes up in desperate need of tucking the stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face. But he decides against it in fear of rejection, and he rests his hand on the ball of his knee instead. Your line of sight falls to his shaking leg. You hesitantly reach across to close your hand softly around his in comfort. His movement stops instantly as he lets out a huff.

Licking your lips, your eyes gaze towards your hands, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d slot into one another so perfectlyー

“_____?” Your eyes shift to lock with his and there are tears that brim at his corners, but they’re kept at bay, refusing to fall.

“I-” He exhales.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, and you don’t know if it’s more for yourself or for him, but it gives him the strength to continue on.

“Look, that girl and I? We weren’t in a relationship. I promise you. I told you that we were friends with benefits because that’s what we were.” He insists, hoping the message gets across to you, but your heart drops lower into your stomach at his admission. You don’t even want to picture him with some other girl, yet you know way more about their relationship than you would have ever wanted.

Hell, you were even convinced that they were in love. A highlight reel of the last few months spent in your apartment flashes before your eyes, and your grip on his hand loosens. You think back to the days when Jimin was just some faceless guy, dancing around with his supposed girlfriend, having pillow fights, running warm baths, making out beneath the stars, and fucking around with her like they were in love.

But he continues in hopes that you’d understand his point of view. “It was easier to tell you the truth because you didn’t know who I was, and you wouldn’t have judged me for it. So I was an idiot, and at the flower shop, I told you she was my girlfriend because it would have been easier to explain this complicated mess.” A single tear cascades down his cheek, and he wipes it away with the crook of his elbow.

“I mean, she wanted it to be serious, but there was just something pulling me back. And do you know what that was?”

You shake your head no and pull away, unsure how much more of this you can take.

He looks you dead in the eyes, but you can’t even look at him for another second because the wilting carnations are sitting there, mocking you.

“_____, you asked me the other day what I liked about her, and I was wracking my brain trying to come up with an answer... It wasn’t easy because you were the only person I thought about.”

A sudden tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, unbelieving, but you compel yourself to look back at his visage, checking for any tells of a lie. He doesn’t even falter.

“She and I? We fought so much because she was convinced I had feelings for someone else. And you know?” He shakes his head, “…It’s true. I couldn’t think about the things I liked about her, but then when I thought of you. My god, it was just so much easier to talk about the things I loved about you because you’re the one I like. I didn’t know how to express that, okay? The songs that I wrote? The ones you hear me sing day and night? Fuck…” He rubs at his eyes, and they’re evidently red from all the tears welled up. “They’re all about you, and you didn’t even know,” he sobs out. The first drop of tears came out steadily, but as you examine his face in total shock, the tears begin to cascade down his face.

You wrap your arms around his neck, now understanding where he’s coming from. It’s all a little more clear to you, and there’s no need to continue on if he’s in hysteria like this. His arms instinctively squeeze around your waist, holding on tight, too afraid that he’d lose you if he were to let go.

“I didn’t have my feelings sorted out because I was comfortable with where I was, but it’s not like it made me happy,” he confesses. You hush him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his slumped back. Sitting in silence, you can only hear the sound of your breathing falling into sync with his. Occasionally, the radiator would go off and a car would drive by on the street beneath you.

You tell him that it’s all okay and that all is forgiven, but he still continues in justification of himself. “And I was convinced that you’d think I was a horrible person for liking someone else when I’ve got a complicated relationship going on, okay? Because that’s how I felt about myself, and I swear we broke it off, but I was too embarrassed to come to you because I didn’t know how to explain the mess I got myself into. It’s all my fault, and I’m so so so sorry, you have no idea.”

He’s wracked with sobs, but you hum, listening intently to his every word. They’re coherent enough for you to realize that you’ve both made mistakes because of a huge misunderstanding.

The Jimin that you know and love is right here in your arms, and there’s nothing you can do but forgive and forget.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he cries out with a hiccup. “I promise you that you’re the only person I care about.”

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, hoping that he calms down because there’s really nothing to apologize for. “What did I say? You don’t have to be sorry, okay?” You remind him.

He lets out a breathy exhale, “I messed up,” he hiccups, “I don’t deserve this. You.”

Your hands rest on his shoulder, gently pulling back from him, but he clings on tighter to your waist. Looking down at the sweet man beneath you, you smile to yourself.

“Jimin,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You shake your head, and a soft chuckle vibrates through your chest. Still, you keep him in your embrace because although it may seem like Jimin is the one in need of a hug, you need it just as much as he does.

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, tickling the skin at your sternum.

“I think I caught feelings for you the first time we met. Do you remember that?” He hums as you reminisce on the memory. “It was some random Sunday, and you walked in looking for a bouquet for your mom, but you realized you didn’t have enough cash on youー”

Jimin laughs beneath you, and it’s the way that he laughs that makes you realize you need that in your life. A cheshire grin spreads across your lips, and that’s when you know you can’t go a single day without hearing his laugh again.

“You didn’t have enough cash, so you pulled out a post it note and scribbled an IOU.” You can barely get the sentence out without chuckling to yourself. Jimin has stopped sobbing at this point, being reduced to a few sniffles here and there. You deem it as the right moment to pull back from his embrace so you can look him in the eyes.

“You drew a little daisy for me and that’s when I knew you were really something else.”

You cup his cheeks, and a grin tugs on his lips, matching the one on your face. His eyes shine in the dim light, just like how the sun radiates in the day time. A single tear trickles down his plush cheeks, and you wipe it away with the pad of your thumb.

“Look, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, and I have to admit that it hurt me when you said you had a girlfriend, but it really hurt me when you left without saying anything.”

His eyes cast downwards as if he’s ashamed, but you place your hand beneath his chin, bringing his attention back up.

“Know that I’d never judge you for the decisions you make and for the relationships you have, okay? And I don’t think you’re horribleー”

“You don’t?” He cuts you off with his big pleading eyes.

“No, far from it,” you beam, “I still think you’re the most selfless person I know.”

Jimin’s face drops at your confession, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not special, because to me, you’re the most extraordinary person in this world.”

He cups your face, noticing that your eyes are starting to well. Drops of tears roll down your face, and Jimin’s quick to dry them away, pressing his lips against your cheeks to collect the drops of salt water. As you smile, another stream of tears pour from your ducts. Soft pecks are trailed against your skin, and you think you’ve successfully washed away all the pain.

You can feel the flowers in your heart slowly starting to bloom in preparation for spring.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, opening up your eyes. He’s merely a few inches away from you, stuck in a daze.

His eyes can’t decide whether they want to look at the gleam in your irises or at the curvature of your lips, flickering between the two.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Your whimper is hardly loud enough for your own ears, but he hears you loud and clear.

His hands rest at the sides of your neck as his thumbs run over your cheeks, grazing over the flesh of your lips. “Can I show you how special you are to me?”

You nod your head, and Jimin is overcome with the urge to kiss you, inching closer with puckered lips. They’re soft against your own, plush and pillowy. You melt into his touch as if he’s the light of your life. You think you could cry again from the sheer amount of euphoria built up in your little heart. Having him in your arms is all you could ever ask for.

He pulls back slightly in need of a breath, and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap, with knees settled on either side of his taut thighs.

“Missed you,” you whimper against the column of his neck, nosing at the sensitive skin.

Jimin’s breath hitches as he bites back a moan, “Missed you more.”

“Not possible,” you trail gentle kisses against his collarbones, pulling back on the cotton of his t-shirt to expose more of his neck.

His hands rest on your outer thighs thighs, squeezing tight on the muscles. You reach behind you to grab at his forearms, urging him to move his hands higher onto your body. He takes the hint immediately and experimentally squeezes at your ass. Your lips part from his neck, and Jimin takes the opportunity to latch his mouth back onto yours.

His lips are gentle in contrast to the firm grip he has on you. But with your weight resting on top of him, core pressed up against his crotch, you can feel how hard he is beneath you. In need of some release, you start to move your hips back and forth, grinding over his hard on.

Jimin gives you a lingering kiss on your lips, pulling back with a harsh groan. You offer a teasing smile, and he leans forward. He supports your weight at the bottom of your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. You nearly yelp when he stands, holding you up in his arms.

“I got you,” he reassures, pressing his lips firmly against yours, walking towards his unmade bed space. He lays you down gently on top of the messy covers, climbing between your legs. You whine upon the release of his lips, but his mouth leaves hot kisses down the column of your throat, causing you to gasp.

“Is it okay if we take this off?” He asks, thumbing at the hem of your sweater.

You nod sitting up, and he tugs the material off for you, tossing it to the edge of the bed. Upon sight of your bare chest, he molds into you, lips suctioning around your pebbled nipple. His other hand massages at your unattended breast, squeezing at the supple flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” he hums against your body.

You’re easily affected by his words as your back arches and your legs hook around his torso. Canting your hips upward, you signal to Jimin with a whine that you’re desperate for his touch.

“There’s no need to rush, baby, we have the whole night,” he warns you, leaving a kiss between the valley of your breasts.

You cry out in frustration, but it soon subsides when he satiates your needs. You relax when his hand lowers into your sweatpants, cupping at your heat. His middle finger traces at your entrance, running it up and down your panty clad slit. Your hips lurch once again, but Jimin presses your hips down, flush against the mattress.

As his tongue circles around your sensitive nipple, his fingers decide to dip into your underwear. The obscene sound of your juices squelching can be heard when he presses his finger into your tight hole. Inserting a finger in, you can feel your walls stretch around him. A cry falls from your lips as he begins to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb.

Jimin inserts another finger, and your cunt feels so hot with the amount of friction. Pumping two fingers in and out, there’s a pleasurable burn that ripples throughout your body. Beads of sweat form on your hairline, and you wipe them away with the back of your hand. You can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“Tell me how it feels, okay?” He asks, switching over to your other breast.

“You feel so good,” you mewl. He hums against your nipple in affirmation, biting lightly at the perky bud.

“Jimin?” You call out for him.

He parts from your chest to look into your eyes, fingers still pumping in and out of you with flexing biceps.

“I think it’d feel better if you’d fuck me,” you admit, no filter needed.

“Shit,” he groans, slowing down the pace. “I want to eat you out first though.”

He retracts his hand, and you feel empty without him inside. Your sweatpants and panties are tugged off in one swift motion, casted to the side along with your sweatshirt. Looking up with stars in your eyes, you can see that Jimin is still fully dressed. You open your mouth to tell him about your wishes, but he must have read your mind because he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it with no regard.

Beneath his clothing, he reveals to you his robust body. You’re dripping with lust, and it must be so obvious from the way you stare at his abdominals. Everything about him is so well-built, and you curse the talented dancer in front of you.

“Like what you see?” He teases, winking at you as he descends down your body.

“Love it,” you moan.

His breath is hot against your wet pussy. With juices dripping down your ass, you ruin the linen sheets beneath you. His fingers play with your core, spreading your swollen lips to reveal your flower, admiring how pretty your cunt is.

Sitting up with elbows propped, you look down in frustration between your bent legs to see Jimin licking his lips, staring at your heat like he’s ready to devour you. He kisses at the long, dark lines of stretch marks that reside on your inner thighs before his tongue presses softly against your wet clit, kitten licking at the bud. Reaching out, your hand balls around the white comforter to anchor yourself down. As you spread your legs wider, Jimin’s hands hook around your limbs to rest at your thighs. He presses them down, restricting your movement.

His tongue laps at your heat with no mercy, licking a stripe up your sex and tracing letters onto your clit, sending your nerves aflame. Your breaths are shallow as you pant, melding yourself to the mattress. He flicks his tongue, prodding it against your hole and delving in and out. He massages your tight walls as it clenches around his tongue.

There’s a knot in your stomach that forms embarrassingly fast, but you can’t help it when his plush lips give your cunt so much attention, sucking harshly on your clitoris. He looks over at your features, taking notice of your reactions, licking over and over the parts that make you squirm the most.

Your face scrunches in pleasure, nearly toppling over the edge. But you’re not ready to come. Not yet at least. Not without having Jimin’s hard cock inside of you.

Jimin is relentless against your pussy, but he doesn’t even let up when you call his name out. Your grip around the comforter loosens in favor of digging your fingers into Jimin’s luscious black locks.

“Jimiiiin,” you whine, tugging lightly at his roots. “I need you, please, please,” you beg.

He leaves a kiss at your bud, and you shudder in response. Jimin climbs up your body, and you shiver at the loss of contact.

“You need me, huh?” He teases, “You want to come?” You nod your head ardently when he presses his red, swollen lips against yours. He grapples with your mouth in a bruising, passionate kiss. With clicking teeth and suckling tongues, you can taste yourself off of his plush lips, completely drenched in your arousal.

Trailing your hand down Jimin’s sturdy body, you can’t resist running your hands over his perfectly sculpted abs. But on your descent, you pull on the strings of his heather gray sweatpants, loosening the elastic around his waist.

Your palm slides beneath the band, tucking beneath his boxer briefs. His eyebrows scrunch, and he gasps against your mouth when you wrap your hand around his hot, veiny cock, stroking at his erection. His cheeks flush as you swipe your thumb over the head, collecting beads of precum on your fingers.

He shudders at your touch. “Oh my God, I might die if you keep doing that,” he nearly cries.

You smile against the skin of his neck, sucking at his pulse point. Meanwhile, Jimin reaches over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom. He nearly falls off the bed, losing balance on his knee when you stroke his cock a little faster.

As Jimin sits up, trying to open up the packaging, you careen forward to pull off his sweats. You can hardly pull it down below his thick ass given the position he’s sitting in. But it’s enough for you to pull his dick out and wrap your hand around his girth in all its glory.

While waiting for Jimin to take out the condom, you decide to tease him like he deserves. Switching positions, you lie down on your stomach in front of him. With a glob of saliva built up in your mouth, you spit onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the shaft and onto his balls. You glide your hand up and down to spread the saliva, making sure he’s nice and wet. His balls tighten the moment you suckle your lips around his slit.

You look up at Jimin with wide eyes in hope of some praise.

His eyes stare into yours, but he quickly throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m not gonna last, please, I know your mouth is like heaven, but I want to be inside you,” he rambles.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and rests his hand beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. His lips meet your forehead in a sweet kiss before you lie back down on the bed, spreading your legs wide open as an invitation.

Jimin ungracefully pulls off his pants down the rest of his legs. He pumps his thick cock in his hands before sliding on the condom and lining himself up at your entrance. You groan, reaching out for his wrists as he glides his length up and down your folds, making sure you're nice and wet for him, fully prepped.

The callous on his thumb is rough against your clit as he rubs down on it, easing the discomfort of penetration. Your velvety walls stretch around his member as he sinks into you inch by inch.

You’re gasping for air as he sheaths himself inside you, but you remain calm because Jimin peppers kisses all across your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned.

“Mhmm,” you hum, “Might need a second.”

His nose nudges at your cheek, “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Moments go by until you’re comfortable with the stretch. You don’t know how Jimin has so much patience with you when you can literally feel his dick twitch inside your pussy, impossibly harder than he was moments prior. But like the angel he is, he still waits for your go-ahead.

“Jimin, you can move,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and offering a butterfly kiss.

His mouth finds his way to yours, and he kisses you with so much fervor. You’re too distracted by the kiss to notice him slide out of you.

But your lips part slightly, letting out a gasp when he drives his dick back into you, setting a moderate pace. Your hands reach for the skin of his back, latching your nails onto the smooth surface. The slap of skin on skin is obscene as his hips meet yours, pumping himself inside of you. The delicious burn has you digging your nails into his shoulder blades, scratching at his taut muscles.

You weren’t wrong to say that you can’t go another day without hearing Jimin’s laughter, but at the time, you were not privileged enough to hear his moans against the shell of your ear. That is the one thing you don’t want to ever live without, too spoiled by the sensual man above you.

Jimin fucks into you deeply, changing his angle as he shifts his weight onto his knees. His calculated thrusts to your g-spot sends you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes focus on your pussy, watching his dick disappear inside of you like an addiction. With a firm grasp on your hips, he lifts you higher to help you reach your orgasm.

“Jimin, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, gripping your walls tightly around his length.

“I know, baby, you can come.” He lowers himself onto his elbows so he can come face to face with you. His hands reach down between your bodies, and he rubs harsh figure eights on your swollen clit. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning his name like a vice.

Jimin rides out your high, pumping into your tight hole until your legs nearly give out. He doesn’t dare pull away, continuing to circle your clit until you’ve nearly reached your limits. Your walls pulse around his cock, squeezing around his shaft until he’s nearly at his edge. His hair is matted to his forehead, slicked by sweat. You brush away the loose strands with the tips of your fingers.

“Are you close?” You breathe out, hush and quiet, cupping his jaw with the palm of your hands.

“Mhmm,” he gulps, rutting into you, pumping your cum in and out as it sheaths his shaft.

His pace falters as he approaches his orgasm, hips stuttering against yours. Jimin nearly collapses on top of you as he spills himself into the condom, moaning into the cusp of your ear. His chest presses up against yours as he attempts to catch his breath.

You trace soothing circles onto his back as he basks in the afterglow of post orgasmic sex.

His breathing soon evens out, and it’s comfortably quiet, that is with the exception of the radiator hissing in the corner of the studio.

“Wow.” He kisses your temple before pulling out, letting the remains of your cum flow out of you. He rolls over onto his back, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“So on a scale of 1-10, how special would you say you feel right about now?” A smug smirk tugs on his lips, and you playfully smack his pecks.

“Does this answer your question?” You ask, peppering 10 kisses onto his lips.

“Mmm, no, I didn’t quite hear your answer” he says, leaning in for another kiss, “Tell me one more time?”

And as Jimin kisses you goodnight, you know in your heart that the heartache and the loss of $5 are all worth it in the end if it means you get to wake up and smell the roses with Jimin at your bedside.

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aminiatureworld · 4 years

Text

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange.

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

#so... fucking... long #I'm so tired #was gonna write request tonight but I have to sleep #hope people like this at all lolol #if not might cry #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger headcanons #fanfiction #headcanons #my writing #rewrite

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its-snicket-here · 4 years

Text

:) (1/4)

I'm just practicing my colons and semicolons a lil' bit. It has been a while I've done them (bwb).

And yes, this will be a series for ??? to flesh out his personality.

So why don't you take a seat and............................ :)

~~~~~~~~~~

Everything hurts. Everything hurts like hell. You don't vaguely remember anything related from yesterday. All you remember was going to a party at the edge of the woods and then passing out... What the hell happened? Groggily waking up, you noticed that you're not inside the house, hell, even not outside obviously. The whole damn place looks like it came out of some fucking fairytale wonderland. The walls were pale white smooth, almost like stone far away, but it was actually made out of wood if you look closely enough. The flooring was made out of smooth rock tiles and most importantly a large rounded arch window alcove. The curtains were held back, showing it was raining... rather heavily. Strange... you don't remember anything being rainy in any day or so...

Thankfully, you still had your clothes on: assuring you that there isn't some creep trying to rape you... or anything like that... hopefully... Hopping off from the bed, you started to admire the place just a little more. For sure, you where expecting to be in someone's basement or somewhere abandoned; but this, this is took nice of a room to be even be trapped in.

But what if it's a stalker?...

Shit... What if it IS a stalker? You gazed outside of the window to see if there was like anything you could possibly get out, but to your shock there wasn't. From your stand point, there is no fucking way you'll survive jumping out of the window. It was as if you were in some tower with... Wait.... Since when the hell did raindrops become thicker as ever?... Wait... Wait... Wait...Observing outside even more, your anxiety started to peek. There is not fucking way you just shrunk and is now inside some birch tree tower like some damsel in distress in some kids movie! Running to open the door, you were greeted by a cyan haired stranger looking down at some pit. You don't know who the hell they are, but all you could hear is screaming and that their hand is moving around with some magical aura flowing out of it. You closed the door quietly as you could and tried to tip toe pass, hoping that who ever that person is doesn't notice you. But it seems like real life RNG says no. As soon you were midway between to another door, their- no, his voice echoed out to you.

"It seems like you had recovered," he turned around, with the way he look and act, it sounded like he wasn't making someone suffer earlier. With a flick of his hand, the pit was already covered with wood planks; hiding any evidence of the pit existing. The stranger smiled, as he held your hand, giving a kiss on your knuckles. You took this moment to gain a closer look at your captor: he had a slightly feminine face shape and eyes, but even though he has those, you could easily tell he was a male by his frame. Though slim, he was slightly built and taller than you. What intrigues you the most is his golden eyes, the way he looked at you made you felt... uncomfortable "You're lucky that I found you and that it wasn't a creep, sweetheart."

Despite him being all nice and gentlemen like to you, you still couldn't trust him; even if he DID indeed found you passed out and didn't rape you or chained you up. With what you saw, you could easily tell that he is indeed a dangerous man and shouldn't piss off in the slightest. "Who knows when a stranger would take an advantage of your body? A cutie like you shouldn't go outside passing out on some abandoned trail so defenseless. Who knows when- Oh! Did I scared you earlier when you woke up?" His face morphed from happy to concern, as he pulled you close into a hug, barely enough time for you to even peep a word. Guess that he never heard the word personal space, huh?

"Don't worry about the screaming from the pit earlier. I have a banshee currently trapped in there for protection. Their screams are loud as hell without earplugs or any noise canceling headphones. You're lucky that I was there tuning in their screaming or else you would be deaf right now," the boy rambled. You slightly went out of his grasp, gazing at him with a distrustful look. He only smiled... rather eerily at you.

"W-where am I?" You questioned, you refrained yourself from cursing, despite how much you wanted too. However you can't. You rather not have some magical guy pissed at you for simply cursing. The boy only smiled, he opened his arms spinning around.

"This is my home!" He exclaimed proudly, "All magical and stuff. Just don't touch anything that has a jolly roger like sticker or signs, especially in the alchemy section or the magic room, and you'll be ok!" That's.... not easing you any further or even sound so comforting.

"Who... Are you?" This seemed to paused the boy in his thoughts, when you asked for his identification, although you know that his smile right now seems more dark... Yeah. You're going to die any moment now.

"I... You may call me Nino, and I'm just a magical guy living in the woods. Nothing out of the ordinary." His golden eyes lowed slightly, as he mentioned his "name." Not even easing your worries even further, you really need to tread carefully... Or else... You opened your mouth to ask another question, only to be soon interrupted by your stomach growling. You looked away from Nino's gaze, as the tension in the air ceased. Well at least that relieves 5% of that stress... "Ah yes, you must be hungry, obviously. You've been knocked out for a day when I found you and carried you back here, sweetheart." Slinging his arm around your shoulders, he pulled you close to his side. "Come on, I made breakfast in the kitchen..."

"You like strawberries, blueberries, or chocolate chips on your pancakes?"

#oc x reader #???#:)#fairy oc #yandere #yandere oc #yangire #oh fucking god #i suck at writing

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #475

(from two days ago, oops)

What is your favorite background noise? (Ex. Water dripping, people talking.) I really like a steady rain tapping on the windows. Do you like taking selfies? Why or why not? No, because I'm ugly. It's annoying because I've been wanting to take pics with Girt considering even as just friends literally none exist of us, but yeah. I fucking hate taking pictures of myself and it takes a billion and two tries to get a picture I deem "acceptable" anyway. Were you named after anyone? No. What was the last comic book you read? I don't and never have read comic books. What is your heritage? German, Irish, and Polish. Describe the worst friend you have ever befriended. All things considered, somehow my former best friend was the worst. She was homophobic, racist, extremely self-centered, drama-driven, excessively bossy, ungrateful... I will never be able to explain how our friendship ever worked. If you found the recipe for immortality, would you sell it or would you burn it? Burn it. With certainty. We just aren't meant to live forever. What is the most embarrassing, cringe-worthy thing you have ever done? 99% of my life has been Cringe. What is the worst thing someone could do on a date? Be distracted/not pay attention to the other, like by constantly using their phone. It's so rude. That would immediately make me lose interest in you. If you could turn one legal thing illegal, what would it be? I dunno. What is something you swore you would never do when you grew up, but you did anyway? I was absolutely going to college as a kid. Fast-forward to the future, I've dropped out three times and am going nowhere. Little me saw me as so, so much more successful. Do you actually iron your clothes? No. Unless it's a formal occasion. Do you rent or own your current home? We rent. Have you ever used cursive after school, aside from your signature? My handwriting is naturally mostly cursive. Do you have your groceries delivered or do you buy them yourself? We order our groceries for pick-up, so we have to go to the store, but not in. Do you have a gym membership? Sigh. I do, but Mom and I have really been neglecting going since my time with my personal trainer ran out... What’s your favorite computer game genre? Horror, of course. Do you have any exes your parents never liked? No. Have you ever been severely mentally ill? I am. What was the last thing you purchased from a small local business? I don't know. Have you ever used chewing tobacco? EW no, that shit grosses me out so much. If someone’s laughing, do you instantly think they’re laughing at you? Suuuure do. How would you react if your parents told you they were having another baby? Well, they're divorced, Mom cannot stand my dad, and she also had a complete hysterectomy when she had ovarian cancer, so like... Have you ever had a garage or yard sale before? How much did you make? Over the course of my life, we've had a few yard sales. I don't remember how much we made at any. Have you ever had to evacuate your home for any reason? No. Which mythological creature is your favorite? DRAGONS. I love dragons. Have you ever been to a butterfly garden before? No, but that sounds amazing. What's the biggest bird you've ever seen up close? Oh my god y'all, when I volunteered once at a wildlife rehab center, I was FEET away from some sort of falcon. Guys, you would not believe JUST how big birds of prey are. I was shocked and in total awe. Have you ever seen a double rainbow before? More than once. Were you ever afraid of the dark as a child? I don't THINK I was? What is the strangest thing you’ve been asked? Something inappropriate that really pissed me off. What was your favorite game as a child? I was obsessed with the original Spryo trilogy and would play all three obsessively. What is the darkest thing you have seen on the internet? I don't know, dark shit. Do you crack your knuckles, neck or toes constantly? No, but ugh Girt does that with his neck and it drives me insane alsdkjfaljdlfkwe. Are you constantly catching colds or other sicknesses? No, my immune system is a legend. Are you afraid of mice? No, they're precious. What type of souvenir do you usually purchase when on vacation? I go on vacations so irregularly that I can't really answer this. I've been on a vacation maybe twice in my entire life. Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? I don't like musicals. Will you willingly sing in front of other people besides your family? God no. Do you eat soup when you’re sick? No. I don't like soup. Who can never fail to make you laugh? Absolutely my boyfriend. He's the funniest person I know. Have you ever been on a tour bus? No. Do you prefer listening to things through headphones or speakers? Earplugs. Are you listening to music right now? No; I'm watching Gab play The Evil Within. Have you ever unbuttoned your ex’s pants? Just one of them, but we were together at the time. What are you planning on eating for dinner tonight if you haven’t already? Mom made pizza. What was the worst news you’ve heard this entire week? Girt's mother has Covid. He's vaccinated, but nevertheless, he's still getting a test done just to be safe, and also because if he's contracted it, I might have it. And that means my mother could get it, which just cannot happen, even if she's vaccinated, too. The poor guy is really freaking out about it, but ASTONISHINGLY, I'm not panicking yet. Girt's health has seemed fine, I'm fine, so... We'll just have to wait to see what his test says. Do you have a lot of trees around your house? What about buildings? No; yes. I hate living in the suburbs, it sucks here. Would you say either one of your parents are 'pack-rats?' No. Have you ever disowned anyone in your family? For what reasons? No. Has anyone ever called you a sociopath before? No. Do you have freckles? Do you like/dislike them? Not on my face, no. I have a few randomly on my body though. Would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? No. Have you downloaded extra fonts for your computer? Oh, plenty. Who is the latest great YouTuber you’ve discovered? The latest, uhhhh. I'd probably say John Wolfe as a truly "great" one considering I watch him regularly now. Do you read the Bible regularly? Yeah, no. All the Bible does is piss me off, frankly. Name three patriotic songs you like. I don't know about three, but I do shockingly like this one country song with a name I can't remember. All I know is it has "red, white, and blue" in the title. ... I think. Oh! There's "Deutschland" by Rammstein, even though it's not about my own country. Has it ever snowed on your birthday? Maybe at some point as a kid? Idr. Do you like the way your name is spelled? No, actually. I wish it was "Brittney." It's more true to the pronunciation. Do you believe in astrology? Not in the slightest, and while I really shouldn't care, like believe what you want, it's a genuine pet peeve of mine when others base their fucking lives around what positions some goddamn stars are in in an infinite universe. They make decisions based on bullshit being spat at them that might not be suitable. I know, it's stupid to care, but I can never seem to NOT roll my eyes when I see/hear people blaming their flaws and shit on this stuff. Are you one of those people who has like a hundred apps on their phone? No; I have very few. What’s the band that you love even though you know they’re awful? I can't help but love some Blood on the Dance Floor songs. :x Do you coo over other people’s babies? No, not really. Like I can acknowledge a cute picture and be like "awww," but it's nothing I lose my mind over at all. What is something that makes you very squeamish? VOMIT. If you’re out of high school, have you stayed in touch with your high school friends? If you’re still in school, do you think you will? The only high school friend of mine I'm still actively friends with/is still in my life is Girt, obviously. Like I have HS friends on Facebook that I still very much love and will react to what they post and sometimes comment, but we don't really talk-talk. Do you dye your hair regularly? No. :/ That's not something I can afford to do. Do you have an alter ego? Describe them: No. Do you know both of your biological parents? Which one do you prefer? I do, and I love them both. Do you store a lot of pictures you’ve taken that no one else has seen? I'm a wanna-be photographer, of course I do. If you had to name your kid after an American state, which would you choose? Probably "Dakota" for either gender. What do you use to dry your clothes? (Tumble dryer, radiator, etc) We have your normal dryer. Do you ever play the built-in games on your computer? Which ones? Nah. Do/did you doodle on your books at school? My notebooks and binders, ohhhh yes. Actual school textbooks, absolutely not. Who’d you last see in a tux? The groom and groomsmen of the last wedding I shot. Who’s the bravest person you know? Sara. Have you ever dated someone who was real sportsy? No.

#survey #surveys #random questions

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oldsouls123-blog · 5 years

Text

Date night w/ Johnny 💕

Genre : Fluff

Pairing : Johnny Seo X non-idol!female

Rated : PG 13

Warning : none

Word count : 2.2k

I was trying to call Johnny but all of my calls went straight to voicemail. Here I was, wandering in search of my boyfriend because it was our monthly date night. Yes, “monthly”. We are too busy to hang out any more frequently.

You see, my boyfriend is Johnny Suh of NCT. Between practices, performing, learning choreographies, he steals these tiny moments and stretches them out to make room for “us”.

I halted in my tracks, my phone still pressed close to my ear. There was my man. Dressed in all black outfit complete with a hoodie, denim jacket and black nikes. His mouth mask was pulled on and his snapback was pulled low to hide his chocolate brown eyes. There was no way the paparazzi could identify him. He was facing the convenience store. The blue light illuminated his silhouette, there was no doubt it was Johnny. I confidently sneaked up behind him and placed my palms on his shoulders and whispered “Suh, what are you doing here?”

Johnny was startled for a split second. I let my hands fall and entangle with his warm ones. His hands are usually cold but they weren’t so now. He turned around laughing, his eyes turning the shape of crescent moons. He brushed my hair away from my eyes as we both giggled. I took a step back, still holding his hands. “Your “forbidden date night” outfit is on point, as always. Even I could not recognize you if it hadn’t been for your worn out nikes!” He pulled his mask down and smiled down at me. He closed the distance between us. “I do not want to get caught but you’re worth the risk”. “Jesus Johnny, who has been teaching you these cheesy pick-up lines?!”

Johnny laughed and tugged at my hand saying,” Come on, the ramyun is calling our name” We entered the brightly lit convenience store which was in stark contrast with the night. We both walked towards the ready-to-eat foods’ aisle. Johnny scanned through the same old ramyun flavours. We had practically eaten each one of the flavours. My eyes fell upon the top shelf where a lone Benton Box was sitting. Those were usually not in stock at this time of the night as they were consumed by the people with a 9to5 job. I tried to reach it but failed, no wonder it had not been bought. I called out,” Hey J, can you get me that Benton box over there?”. I had to be careful to not shout out his name in public. After we had both cooked and settled down with our dinner, a few girls entered the shop. My eyes went wide and I pulled Johnny’s hoodie up. He got the sign and nearly buried his face in his bowl of ramyun. The girls left giggling, having bought some questionable things. I looked out of the window just to make sure there were no more shoppers. We then continued eating. These frights were getting really predictable for us to pay any mind.

“I am pretty sure you won’t be able to finish that, Suh”

“If you want some, just ask for it, silly”

“Feed me. I want to feel like those pampered girlfriends”

“ And you were saying I am getting cheesy”

He gingerly fed me a forkful of ramyun. The cheesy sauce dripped down my chin. “Mr. Suh, you’re supposed to wipe my chin. Haven’t you seen K-Dramas?”

Johnny laughed as I wiped my own chin. I saw his hand reaching towards me. “Do not tell me you were actually going to do that” and we broke into a firt of giggles.

Johnny pulled up his hoodie and mouth mask before we left the store and walked towards our next destination – the Han river. I tried to adjust Johnny’s hoodie so I could see his eyes and sighed unintentionally.

“I wish you did not have to work so hard to be with me, Johnny” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Johnny looped one around my shoulders and I leaned my head onto his shoulders. He did not say anything, I was not expecting him to. He pulled out his iPod and headphones from his pocket and handed me one of the earplugs and I stuffed them in my right ear. He pressed shuffle on the iPod.

The first beat was the sound of crickets. We both smiled as Seoul by RM played on. It had easily become our favourite song.

The song wasn’t meant for couples but it did speak of romance. Romance with the city of Seoul. Seoul was neither mine nor Johnny’s hometown but every time we heard the song, we felt closer to this place. Closer to one another.

By the time the chorus was playing, we had reached the Yeouido Hangang Park which offered a beautiful view of the Han river.

We sat on one of the park benches, away from the streetlights. The park was empty and silent. I checked my phone, it was 12:32am. Everything was peaceful; the moonlight and streetlights cast their light on the calm Han river. The water appeared pitch black at night, attempting to swallow all the light that fell on it.

“You know Johnny, if love and hate are the same words, I love you”

“Okay now you’re putting me on the rack! I guess I will have to sing the wrong lyrics.

If love and hate are the same words then I love you too, Hyejin”

He looked deeply into my eyes, a sweet smile playing on his lips. The moonlight illuminated his features. He was practically glowing. The wind ruffled his hair and yet he looked like a prince and I thought, how did I get so lucky?

I caught myself staring as Johnny smirked, “Take a picture, why don’t you?” I was too embarrassed to say something back so I propped up my feet and lay my head on his laps.

“Do you mind, Suh?”

“It is not as if you’re going to remove your head”

“Just say you don’t mind it and go.”

He laughed and ruffled my bangs as I looked up to admire his features some more. We enjoyed the silence, the cool wind, the sound of water lapping and the warmth of each other’s body.

We put in the earplugs after some time and pressed shuffle. The first song that started playing was Red Flavour by Red Velvet.

“Yah Johnny, you know the choreography to this right? Show me some of your moves”

Johnny groaned and gave me the look.

“Oh come on, nobody is here! If you’ll show me some moves, I will dance to Boss by NCT”

Hearing my proposal, Johnny got up and did some of the moves without any hint of awkwardness. He is a natural dancer. I wrapped him up in a big hug as soon as he finished. He buried his head into the crook of my neck, embarrassed.

“Come on, you’re so good honey!”

He just hugged me tighter. I broke the embrace to show him some of my own moves. I did the powerful steps of Boss as well as I could. I knew I could never match Johnny but that did not stop me from trying. When I finished, Johnny was still laughing, he did not even try to hide it. I playfully punched his shoulder.

“Johnny, stop it!”

“What?! I never said it was bad! I am laughing because you’re so good!”

“Come on now, it is already 2am. Drop me home.” I said as I tried to wrestle him to make him stop laughing.

Johnny wore his mask and hat again. I do not remember initiating it but we were holding hands as we left the park.

His hands were big and warm in contrast to the chilly winter night. All I could focus on was the sensation of his soft warm hands until we took a turn.

Wait. Why were we heading towards the SM building. I stopped in my tracks.

“Suh, are you not going to walk me home?”

“You keep saying we don’t spend time together. Let us go to the dorm and watch that movie you were saying. “Conjuring” right?”

“Johnny, what do you mean? If we get caught you know what that means right?” The worst thoughts were crossing my mind.

“You trust me right? Just move through the shadows of the reception hall as I talk to the receptionist”

“I do not trust you” I groaned.

Johnny smirked and walked towards the building. I followed him, being left with no other choice. There was no way we were going to get away with this, I thought. Adrenaline started to pump through my veins leaving my palms cold and sweaty. Johnny confidently walked towards the receptionist, removing his mouth mask. Johnny took out his keys while making small talk with the receptionist and slid it across the desk “accidently” so that the receptionist had to pick it up. I did not even need a signal to make a run for it. I had taken off my shoes to avoid any noise. Johnny broke into a loud coughing fit to muffle any potential sounds made by me. I stood by the elevator, the doors shrouding me from view. I saw Johnny walk into the elevator and I sneaked inside with him. I waited for the elevators doors to close before facing Johnny.

“Oh my God Johnny, what about the CCTV cameras?” I whisper shouted.

He smirked and flattened out my ruffled hair. “The way I told you to come through is in the blind spot. How do you think the others sneak in their girlfriends in?” The elevator stopped and we stepped out. The adrenaline was wearing out, making me sluggish. Before I could step out, Johnny reached a hand to the side of the wall and flicked all the lights off of the hallway. I gripped onto his arms. I could feel him grin by the gesture. He turned on the flashlight on his camera and we walked until we reached the very end of the hallway. The main door was open indicating that the boys were there. We could hear some giggling coming from one of the rooms and Johnny looked at me but I refused to meet his gaze. My shoes still in my hand, we quietly walked inside Johnny’s room.

Johnny took the shoes and handbag from my hands as I stood there for a moment to take in the view of his room. It was clean, the bed was made, few things adorned the bedside table. The lights were off but the curtains were pulled aside so the moonlight flooded the room. Instead of turning on the main light, Johnny turned on the little lamp by the bedside which provided sufficient light. He closed the curtains and turned the AC on low just as the sound of thunder came crashing down accompanied by the pattering of rain on the cemented grounds.

Johnny turned to me saying,” I saw the clouds when we were in the park. We’d be soaking wet if we tried to go to your house”

That caught me off guard. I thought he was just being his usual impulsive self. I know it is cliché but it’s small caring moments like this that remind me that he is a man who thinks of me as a woman and that we are in a romantic relationship. I smiled warmly at him before sitting on the edge of the bed. Johnny placed the laptop on one of the pillows and plopped down on the bed.

“Come here, the sheets are clean.” He patted the sheets next to him.

“You’re such a dork” I said as I smiled and crawled next to him. We started watching the horror movie as planned. Both of us had watched enough horror movies to be startled by the jump scares. It was getting kind of boring and Johnny was struggling to keep his eyes open. I guided his head into my lap and leaned my back on the headboard.

I do not remember when I fell asleep but the sound of light knocks and giggling woke me up. I looked at the clock hung on the door; it was 6:45am. The laptop screen was black, the battery was probably dead. Johnny was all tangled up in the bedding; deep in slumber. This is when it hit me, I was in Johnny’s room; and the knocks and giggles? It must be the boys. I had felt some eyes on me as we were entering the room. Wow, so they now knew I had spent the night with Johnny. I didn’t even want to think about the assumptions they were making.

“Wake up Johnny! It’s the guys! They know I’m here! Do something, I know they do not have very innocent thoughts. They probably have their ears pressed to the door right now”

“W-What?”

“Johnny Suh, get up and open the damn door!!”

I literally pushed him towards the door. He opened the door and all the boys straightened up, indicating that they indeed were listening to our conversation.

“It’s not what you think guys” Johnny chuckled causing the other boys to laugh.

I hung my head low as a wall of embarrassment came crashing down on me.

“Oh well, you will have to stay the day, Hyejin. You can only sneak out at night. Until then, enjoy” Taeyong said earning more giggles from the others.

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sister-cna-reader · 2 years

Text

personal rant

Things I now (not quite) Hate because of apartment living:

Textured walls. They look absolutely horrid and they are a pain to keep clean in the kitchen area.

White paint all over. I know it's a trend to have all-white walls, but after living in a space like that for over 5 years, I'm sick of it. Give me colored walls!

Living near a business. Especially near an Auto repair place. It's so noisy and loud when you have to be at home sick during business hours, not to mention if they leave all their fucking lights on overnight.

Smelling what the neighbor is smoking. I already didn't like to smoke! I don't want to smell your hotbox pot through my walls! I don't want to have it waft into my open windows either! This was a no-smoking complex assholes!

Hearing neighbors. I've gotten to wearing headphones whenever I watch something while husband is home, and earplugs at night. But even then! I can hear them yelling or slamming things. It makes me want to never have a baby in an apartment! (This is totally another rant that my friends don't seem to understand.)

Asshole visitors who park badly. Like we are allowed TWO spots to park as renters. Do not take our spots. Don't block us in by parking behind us! That shade will do jack shit to keep your seatbelt from burning you, fuck off.

The constant state of fear that your rent will increase unexpectedly. We pay well under 'market value', but we also aren't getting paid anywhere close to over $50,000 a year.

The "well just buy a house if you don't like where you live". Bitch! You try buying a house out here with no previous house to sell and barely enough $$$ for a down payment! Prices on houses have DOUBLED since 2018 (when we started renting here). If we don't have enough to buy a house, what makes you think I'll have enough to take on a 'fixer upper' in this area? Something made after 1980 that isn't a manufactured home is going for well over $250,000. That's over $20,000 in closing cost and DP if you're LUCKY. Parents aren't giving out wads of cash either.

Vinyl flooring. It scratches, it dents. It just looks so bad after 5 years.

A/C units installed in stairwells. WTF, who thought putting the single A/C unit in the stairwell was going to be effective? We get by in the summer on the grace of three fans (two in the stairwell) and a bedroom window unit we bought ourselves.

#TL;DR #apartment living sucks sometimes #I wish we could afford to buy a decently sized home #I do not have the spoons to deal with a 'fixer upper' place from around here

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instakpop · 7 years

Text

Baekhyun scenario - (play)boy next door (1/2)

requested by @byunshim

genre: ANGST (for Baekhyun)

Featuring Chanyeol (fluff for him)

summary: Having a crush on your young wealthy neighbor, Baekhyun, is something you could never admit. His weekend parties have always sparked your interest but your studious state of mind holds you back until your gorgeous friends come back to town and Baekhyun suddenly notices a reason to invite you. But is worth it?

"Y/n! I'm heading to work. Do you need me to order you some dinner or are you okay?" My big sister shouted.

"No, thanks. I'm good!" I answered. I knew it was going to be a long night for her so I figured I wouldn't take any time away from her patients. She's a doctor at the hospital nearby and she normally works int he emergency room so her hours are really long. Some days she'll be gone for over 12 hours.

"Okay. Have a good night... and morning!" She hollered down the hallway.

"Bye!"

I got up from my bed and covered myself with a plush blanket and went to my desk to try and read a few more chapters of my book. I put on my headphones and drowned out the whole world. I always preferred to just focus on my studies. My sister did and now she's one of the highest paid doctors at the local hospital.

I was taken out of the fantasies in my book once I got a notification. I jumped up when I saw it was my best friend! She just got back from studying abroad in Machu Pichu and wanted to have lunch tomorrow. I quickly sent my reply and our plan was set in stone. I was so excited to hear all the amazing things she's seen and experienced.

My mood was instantly numbed into annoyance when the floor started to vibrate. "Baekhyun..." I muttered. I went to my window and watched as herds of people walked into my neighbor's house. I squinted and saw Baekhyun himself welcoming people in. He turned and looked straight up at me and raised his glass, taunting me. I closed my shades and grabbed my phone. Back when he first moved in, my sister, got Baekhyun's phone number and she sent it to me in case of an emergency while she was gone. But this time He's the only one who can stop all this noise.

Y/n: Baekhyun, can you please keep it down? I'm gonna go to bed soon.

Baekhyun: Sure. I'll just move my guests to the pool out back. Sweet dreams Y/n-ah

I rolled my eyes and climbed into bed. I read another chapter and went to sleep. Thankfully I had a pair of earplugs to block out the noise. It took a while, between the anxiousness to see my best friend again and Baekhyun being annoying, but eventually, I got to sleep.

The next day I got up with plenty of time to shower and get ready. I packed up my purse and headed out the door, locking it before I got into my car. My friend texted me, saying she'll see me soon and I smiled at my phone. When I looked up I caught Baekhyun's gaze. He was out on his front deck, shirtless and holding a cup of coffee. God, he was hot! I can't let him know that though; Especially since he already has plenty of girls fawning over him as it is. He raised his mug and mouthed "Good morning". I waved to him and drove away.

I recognized my friend's car when I pulled into the parking lot and parked right next to her. I walked into the cafe and she stood up when she saw me.

"Y/n! Hey~" She pulled me into her hands and I hugged her back. We both sat down in the booth and I couldn't help but stare. She was only away for a month, but she came back with a perfect tan and a new hairstyle.

"How was Machu Pichu? Tell me everything!" I was so excited to hear all of the amazing details and she definitely defied my expectations. We ordered our coffee and lunch and the stories started pouring out.

"I met the most amazing people and the scenery was breath-taking." She went on and on about all of her wild adventures and a possible romance. "We met on my third day there. He was studying abroad at his college too, but he left a week after that and I didn't want to start a long distance relationship if I barely know the guy, you know? But enough about me. How was your month?"

Before I could even answer I looked over her shoulder at the front door and saw none other than Byun Baekhyun entering the room. My friend caught my gaze and turned around to see what I was looking at.

"Who's that? He's cute." He commented. I was caught off guard and looked down at my cup. "He's no one." I didn't want to draw any attention to myself, but with a beautiful friend like mine, it was a tall order.

"Y/n-ah. Always good to see you outside the neighborhood." Baekyun flashed his infectious smile and I couldn't help but smile back. "And you must be..."

"I'm Y/f/n." My friend said, finishing Baekhyun's sentence. He extended his hand and she took a hold of it, shaking his hand slowly.

"Nice to meet you, Y/f/n." The tension was cringe-worthy. I just wanted to dissolve into thin air. "Well, I won't keep you ladies, but if you're interested I'm having a get together at my house tonight."

"Of course you are..." I said under my breath. My friend looked at me and back at him before replying,"Sure. Thanks." Baekhyun took one more look in my direction and smiled cleverly.

As he walked away my friend looked back at me. "Y'n? You still there?" I was taken out of my daze and nodded, taking a sip of my drink.

"What do I even wear to a party like that?" She asked me.

"I think I have something."

That night Y/f/n came over and we got dressed. My sister left for work a few hours earlier, and as usual, she won't be back until late morning. My friend and I finished getting ready and headed next door. From the moment we walked in I was hypnotized. The whole atmosphere was otherworldly. Crowds of people were out dancing for socializing and his house was somehow bigger on the inside. I could feel the bass in my chest and the lights were dimmed except the ones with colored bulbs.

My friend grabbed my hand and she pointed to the other room. I nodded and we made our way to the bar area. We ordered a couple of drinks and none other than the womanizer himself sauntered over to us.

"Ladies! I'm glad you both came." I could hear the flirtation in Baekhyun’s voice. If only it was geared toward me. He looked straight at my friend and said, "You look great."

"Aww. Thank you. Y/n let me borrow something of hers, Thankfully." She replied.

"I'm gonna take a lap." I excused myself and left the situation before I became any more of a third wheel. I walked around the massive house and stopped when I reached a quiet area. I was still able to see my friend and Baekhyun, but they were too occupied to notice me.

"Hey. Are you alone?" I heard a husky voice next to me and looked up to see a gorgeous guy gazing down at me. "Uh... Currently, yes. Technically no. I came with a friend, but she's with... the host."

"Baekhyun? uh-oh." He had a look of surprise on his face and I had to ask, "Why?"

"Well, if she's caught up in Baekhyun's charms already, you probably won't see her until tomorrow morning." My heart sank and I looked back over at the two of them smiling and laughing flirtatiously.

I shook off the thought and decided to test my chances with someone new. "What's your name?"

"Chanyeol. I'm a friend of Hyunnie." I smiled at his nickname for Baekhyun and introduced my self. "I'm Y/n, the friend of Hyunnie's victim." He laughed at my joke and I started feeling better. We talked for a while until my feet started to hurt from all the standing.

"Oh. We can go and sit somewhere if you'd prefer that." He offered. I nodded to him and he took my hand, leading me upstairs and down one of the halls.

"here." We sat on a little bench in front of one of the huge windows. The moon shined down on the side of Chanyeol's face and I started to swoon.

"So what made you come tonight? Have you ever been to a party like this?" He asked out of genuine curiosity. "No, I've never been to a party like this before. I really only came because my friend and I were invited."

"Wait. You live right next door and you just now got invited?"

"Yeah. My sister can be pretty protective of me and Baekhyun clearly only invited me because of my friend."

"How do you know? He always has a method to his madness. It just takes a while to see it all play out." He explained. I smiled at him and he continued. "I honestly wish he invited you sooner. That way I could really have someone to talk to like this." I started to feel warm when I saw his little dimple fade from his cheek. He got closer and closer before I realized what was happening. His lips pressed against mine and I melted at the warmth. His big hand rested on my thigh and I cupped his soft cheek, kissing him back. His hand moved from my thigh to my hip, pulling me closer to him. My other hand held the side of his neck.

"Wait." Chanyeol broke away and I looked at him, confused as to why. "Not like this. I like you, Y/n and I don't want you to think I'm the kind of guy who lours girls somewhere private, and-" I just had to stop him there. "I don't think you're 'that guy' at all. You're the only person here who actually talked to me and was interested in what I have to say. But I won't push you into anything." I held his hand and he smiled down at our hands.

"Thanks."

"Sure. Wanna walk me hone at least?" I asked. He looked me in the eye and agreed. We went back downstairs and walked through the maze of people. I looked over at my friend on the way out and signaled that I was leaving and she nodded. She was standing with some other guy and Baekhyun was nowhere to be found.

Chanyeol and I walked to my front door with our fingers intertwined. We lingered at the doormat for a while until he spoke. "Here, This way I know I can see you again." He handed me his phone and I put my number in. When I looked back up at him he leaned toward me and kissed my cheek. I smiled at him and he walked away; to his car I assume. I opened the door and made sure the stare key was in it's hiding place. I sent my friend a text, telling her where it was so she can get in once she's done with the party.

I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Of course, Chanyeol is the nice guy who saved me from loneliness tonight, but is he really what I want? I've liked Baekhyun for a while, but he's a player, that's what he does! I kept thinking about it over and over until I overworked my brain and fell asleep.

Part 2

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years

Text

Forever and Never Apart, 29/42

Summary: After taking a year to recover from the Master, the Doctor and Rose are ready to travel again. But Time keeps pushing them forward, and instead of going back to their old life, they slowly realise that they’re stepping into a new life. Friends new and old are meeting on the TARDIS, and when the stars start going out, the Doctor and Rose face the biggest change of all: the return of Bad Wolf.

Series 4 with Rose, part 7 of Being to Timelessness; sequel to Taking Time (AO3 | FF.NET | TSP)

Betaed by @lastbluetardis, @rudennotgingr, @jabber-who-key, and @pellaaearien. Thank you so much!

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10| Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17 | Ch 18| Ch 19 | Ch 20 | Ch 21 | Ch 22 | Ch 23 | Ch 24 | Ch 25 | Ch 26 | Ch 27 | Ch 28

Chapter Twenty-nine: What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

A month later, they were back to their old life, travelling in the TARDIS. Donna had spent a week with her grandfather, taking him on a surprise trip to Italy when her mother had gotten back from her weekend away.

The TARDIS was still scanning the fifty-first century, looking for Lee. The Doctor checked the results every morning, and after a few days, Donna had stopped asking if he’d found anything. He’d tell her when he did.

Today, they were taking a day off from the travelling. Rose had holed herself up in the library to read while the Doctor tinkered and Jenny and Donna relaxed in the pool.

“Mum?”

Rose looked up from her book when Jenny called her name. The title still felt new and a bit weird, but she liked it.

“What did you need, Jenny?” Rose’s back twinged, and she realised she’d been sitting in the same position for too long. She winced, then stretched out while Jenny sat down in the other armchair flanking the fireplace.

“Donna was telling me about an Earth custom… a spa day?”

Rose chuckled. “I bet she was. Did you want to experience one for yourself, see what it’s like?”

Jenny nodded eagerly. “She said it’s something girlfriends and mums and daughters do together. Maybe we could find something for Dad to do, and we could have a spa day?”

“Oh, that sounds amazing,” Rose sighed. “I haven’t had a proper girls’ day in… oh, years.” She set her book down on the table with a bookmark holding her place, then stood up and smiled at Jenny. “Come on, let’s go read through the TARDIS’ travel guides and see if we can find a planet with something suitably exciting for the Doctor, and a spa for us.”

The Doctor was thrilled when the three women presented him with the request to go to Midnight. Rose had remembered the name when they came across it and knew he’d been wanting to go on the tour of the diamond planet for years.

He was less thrilled when he realised they intended to pack him off on the tour alone while they enjoyed the other amenities of the leisure palace. “But it’s no fun if I go alone,” he protested. “Come on, it’s just four hours—then you can have your spa day in the afternoon.”

Donna snorted. “No, that’s four hours there and four hours back. That’s like a school trip. I’d rather go sunbathing.”

The Doctor shook his head. “And that’s another thing—Midnight’s sun is Xtonic. Is it even safe to sunbathe?”

Jenny patted his shoulder. “It’s fine, Dad. It says in the guide book that the glass enclosure over the leisure palace is fifteen feet thick.”

He bounced on his toes and Rose held up a hand before he could say anything more. “And don’t try luring us in with the sapphire waterfall and the Cliffs of Oblivion. We read all about it, and we still want to have our spa day.”

His shoulders slumped and he sighed in defeat. “All right, I give up. Next stop, Midnight: the Planet of Diamonds. Also home to one of the best spa resorts in the galaxy, if you go for that kind of thing.” He twirled his finger in their direction. “You’d better pack your bags, ladies.”

Rose pointed to the door, where three suitcases were waiting. “Oh, we’re ready,” she assured him.

Thirty minutes later, they were checked in to rooms in the resort and Rose was walking the Doctor to the embarkation area for the tour busses. The long hallway was made almost entirely of glass, giving passengers a view of craggy spires sparkling in the sunlight.

“Better not tell Mum about this,” Rose muttered. “A planet made of diamonds? She wouldn’t care if they were poisoned.”

“Do you remember Scotland and the werewolf?” the Doctor asked.

Rose laughed. “And how we joked that Mum would fight the werewolf for the diamond?” Another memory came fast on the heels of that one. “That was when we first started to realise Bad Wolf had permanently changed me,” she added.

The Doctor hummed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Best news I’ve ever gotten.”

Rose snorted. “You practically had a panic attack when I asked you what the werewolf meant.”

“Well…” He tugged on his ear. “I didn’t realise it was good news at the time.”

They finally reached the gate printed on the Doctor’s ticket and stopped a few feet from the ticket counter. He pointed at the gate agent, looking bored as he stared at the computer in front of him.

“You’re sure I can’t talk you into coming with me?” The Doctor squeezed her hand. “It could be fun, just the two of us.”

Rose shook her head. “Jenny asked for this, love. Donna told her that spa days are something mums and daughters do together.”

Warm affection immediately replaced his slightly petulant attitude. “Ah. Well, that’s a different story then.”

“Yeah. Plus, I’m really looking forward to it. I haven’t had a girls’ day in forever—not a proper, Earth-like girls’ day, with all the pampering and fruity drinks and giggling over the funny stories we’ve shared.” Rose stretched up to peck the Doctor on the cheek. “So you have fun on your tour, and when you get back, we’ll try that anti-gravity restaurant—just the two of us.”

The Doctor grinned. “The one with bibs?”

Rose straightened his tie. “Yep!”

“That’s a date, Rose Tyler.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her close, then bent down and kissed her quickly before pulling back. “You ladies have a fun time, telling all your jokes at my expense.” Rose feigned shock, and he shook his head. “Oh, I know exactly what kinds of funny stories you’ll pull out.”

Rose gave him his favourite teasing smile, and he shook his head and kissed her again, lingering a bit longer this time. In fact, it was the last call for boarding that finally reminded them both that he had somewhere to be, and he reluctantly let go of her.

“Have fun, Doctor,” Rose said as she stepped away from him. “And be careful.”

He winked. “Nah. Taking a big space truck with a bunch of strangers across a diamond planet called Midnight? What could possibly go wrong?”

oOoOoOoOo

The Doctor waved jauntily the other passengers on the mostly-full bus as he walked on. The couple near the door rolled their eyes, and the woman muttered something that sounded like, “Finally.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way forward, sitting in front of a young woman who was the only person to wave back at him.

A woman at the back of the bus caught his eye, and her sky blue Oxford shirt and the company badge stitched to her blazer told him she was the Hostess. She hustled forward with the refreshments trolley and started handing him things, one after the other.

“That’s the headphones for channels one to thirty-six. Modem link for 3D vidgames. Complimentary earplugs. Complimentary slippers.” His lap was almost full, and she moved on to the snack items. “Complimentary juice pack and complimentary peanuts. I must warn you some products may contain nuts.”

“That’ll be the peanuts,” the Doctor said, unable to resist.

The customer service smile disappeared from her face, her lips pressed into a thin line instead. “Enjoy your trip.”

“Oh, I can’t wait. Allons-y,” the Doctor chirped as she started to push the trolley away.

She sighed and turned back to him. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s French, for let’s go,” he explained, a little less vibrancy in his voice.

“Fascinating,” she said through clenched teeth.

The Doctor grimaced when she walked away. He’d certainly managed to make a poor impression right off the bat. Hoping to smooth over some ruffled feathers, he looked at the blonde woman sitting on the other side of the aisle, reading a book.

“I cut it a bit fine, I know,” he said, and she looked up at him. “Just lost track of time, saying goodbye to my wife. You know how it is.”

Her already cold expression turned frosty. “I’m afraid I don’t, since I’ve found myself single rather recently, not by choice.”

“Ah.” The Doctor tugged on his ear. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he offered, and she nodded once. “What happened?”

The woman shrugged, but it was a brittle motion, meant to convey nonchalance she did not feel. “Oh, the usual. She needed her own space, as they say. A different galaxy, in fact. I reckon that’s enough space, don’t you?”

The Doctor nodded, but he really didn’t know what else to say to that. The woman nodded again, sharply, and went back to her book.

Feeling truly awkward for once in his life, the Doctor sat quietly for a moment. But he couldn’t remain still for long, and only a few seconds passed before he was turning his head, taking in the interior of the bus.

The tiny windows in the hull captured his attention right away, and the Doctor perked up. He hadn’t imagined they’d be able to look outside while they drove across Midnight. He glanced back at the Hostess, parking the trolley in the back of the bus, but before he could ask her about the windows, the man sitting behind him leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hobbes. Professor Winfold Hobbes.” He held his hand out, and the Doctor shook it.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, aware that a relieved smile had stretched across his face. At least someone will talk to me. “Hello.”

“It’s my fourteenth time,” Professor Hobbes said, rather self-importantly.

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “Oh. My first.” This will be new, not being the most experienced person in the group.

The young woman who’d smiled at the Doctor when he’d gotten on the bus stood up and offered him her hand. “And I’m Dee Dee, Dee Dee Blasco.”

“Don’t bother the man,” Professor Hobbes chided. “Where’s my water bottle?”

The Doctor winked at Dee Dee as she assured the professor that they had all the necessary supplies, and she shrugged, as if to say, “That’s just what he’s like.”

The remaining passenger was a teenage boy dressed in all black. Judging by the way the lad was pointedly ignoring the couple by the door, the Doctor guessed they were his parents.

His attention was pulled back to the Hostess as she strode up the aisle from the rear of the vehicle. “Ladies and gentlemen, and variations thereupon, welcome on board the Crusader Fifty.” At the cabin door, she turned around to face them, that professional smile back in place. “If you would fasten your seat belts, we’ll be leaving any moment.”

She smirked at them while they all fumbled with the seat belts. Once they were properly buckled in, she checked her watch, then nodded. “Doors.”

The doors closed, shutting them off from the hangar bay they were parked in.

“Shields down,” she continued, motioning with her hands.

Shielded visors lowered over the windows, dashing the Doctor’s hopes of watching the landscape of Midnight as they travelled. He sighed, but supposed he should have guessed—the bus certainly didn’t have fifteen feet of glass protecting them from the poisonous rays.

“I’m afraid the view is shielded until we reach the Waterfall Palace,” the Hostess explained. “Also, a reminder. Midnight has no air, so please don’t touch the exterior door seals,” she cautioned, pointing to seals. “Fire exit at the rear, and should we need to use it, you first.”

The Doctor stifled a laugh. If Midnight had no air and the sunlight was toxic, using the fire exit would be the equivalent of leaping from the fire into the frying pan.

After giggling at her own joke, she said, “Now I will hand you over to Driver Joe.”

“Driver Joe at the wheel,” spoke a voice over the intercom.

A topographical map of Midnight appeared on the screen on the wall, and the Doctor put on his glasses to bring it into focus.

“There’s been a diamond fall at the Winter Witch Canyon, so we’ll be taking a slight detour, as you’ll see on the map.” The typical route was highlighted in orange, while their detour was done in blue. “The journey covers five hundred kliks to the Multifaceted Coast. Duration is estimated at four hours. Thank you for travelling with us, and as they used to say in the olden days, wagons roll.”

There was a bit of turbulence as they left the dock, and the Doctor shifted in his seat, excited to finally be on the way.

The Hostess smiled and lifted her chin, drawing their attention back to her. “For your entertainment, we have the Music Channel playing retrovids of Earth classics.”

She pressed a button on the remote in her hand, and a set of screens popped down from the ceiling, showing a music video from the 1980s.

“Also, the latest artistic installation from Ludovico Klein.”

She pressed another button, and they were immersed in a holographic art display. The Doctor would have found it interesting—and Rose would have loved it—but it was impossible to focus on the art when the video was playing at the same time.

“Plus, for the youngsters, a rare treat. The Animation Archives.” A large screen dropped down in front of the cabin door, and a Betty Boop cartoon started playing.

Any one of the three forms of entertainment might have been interesting, but together, they were nothing but noise. The Hostess didn’t seem to think so. “Four hours of fun time. Enjoy,” she said unironically, then disappeared to the back of the bus.

The Doctor looked at the three different displays, utterly unenthused. It’s tempting… He glanced around at his fellow passengers, seeing if anyone else was interested in the entertainment. The blonde woman looked up from her book and heaved a sigh, then rolled her eyes when she caught him looking at her.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Especially given his blunder with her earlier, he was happy to do what he could to make her trip just a little bit nicer. He pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, and five seconds later, the screens went dark and returned to their docks.

“Well, that’s a mercy,” Professor Hobbes said.

“Ah, I do apologise, ladies and gentlemen, and variations thereupon,” the Hostess said as she walked forward, frantically hitting the buttons on her remote.

The Doctor ducked his head so she wouldn’t see his smile; her remote wouldn’t do a bit of good. He’d disabled the entertainment system permanently, at least until they did a hard reboot of the software.

The Hostess didn’t know that though, and she frowned in vexation when the remote didn’t work. “We seem to have had a failure of the entertainment system.”

“Oh,” the Doctor said, feigning dismay. The woman across the aisle looked at him knowingly, and he thought he saw a hint of gratitude in her eyes.

“But what do we do?” the woman by the door asked.

“We’ve got four hours of this?” her husband added. “Four hours of just sitting here?”

“Tell you what.” The Doctor turned around and kneeled on his seat. “We’ll have to talk to each other instead.”

The blonde woman shook her head and bent closer to her book. None of the other passengers were enthused by the idea either, but the Doctor didn’t let their obvious dismay deter him.

“Let’s start with names, shall we? I’m the Doctor.”

oOoOoOoOo

Fifteen minutes after leaving the Doctor at the shuttle bay, Rose used the keycard she’d been given to slip into her room at the resort. She, Jenny, and Donna had taken a quick look at the options on offer, and the vote had been unanimous—swimming and sunbathing first, followed by massages and then lunch. And that meant the very first thing to do was change into her swimming costume.

The Doctor seemed happy, and she reached out to him as she opened up the suitcase. Having a good time, love? Are you impressing all the other passengers?

To her surprise, he turned a little sheepish. It was a bit of a rough start, but I think we’re getting along well now. I might have turned off the onboard entertainment so we’d be forced to actually talk.

Rose pulled out her bikini and wrap, shaking her head at him. That sounded like him, but she was familiar enough with this century’s ideas of entertainment—a constant bombardment of noise—to guess that most people were actually grateful.

What are you up to? he asked.

A sly smile crossed Rose’s face. She quickly changed into the suit and pulled her hair up in a messy bun, then looked at herself in the mirror and nodded. Just getting ready to go swimming with the girls, she told him casually. A second later, she let him see exactly what she looked like, in her skimpy red bikini with tendrils of hair framing her face.

Oh… that’s not fair, he groaned.

Rose closed her eyes and focused on the bond, and a moment later, she was standing in front of the Doctor. She pressed a finger to her collarbone and traced a line down to the deep V of her bikini top, and his eyes tracked her movements hungrily.

Just a tease, since you can’t be here to enjoy it in person, she told him.

The Doctor reached for her, and the feeling of his cool hand on her bare skin sent a shiver down Rose’s back. He leaned down and nipped at her earlobe, then whispered, You know I love it when you tease me, Rose, but you also know that I return your teasing, with interest.

Rose drew in a shuddering breath when the Doctor brushed his nose along her jawline, his lips close enough that she could feel his breath. He finally pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before lifting his head to give her a knowing smile.

I’ll see you tonight.

The bond faded back into the background, and Rose sighed. Time to get this girls’ day started, she told herself, wrapping a black sarong around her waist.

Jenny and Donna were already lounging by the pool when she arrived. “There you are,” Donna said, saluting with a hand holding a cocktail. “Oh, the Doctor is going to be disappointed he missed seeing that bikini.”

Rose smiled as she reclined in the third lounge chair. “He might have already gotten a glimpse,” she drawled. Jenny and Donna frowned blankly at her, and she tapped her temple. “What’s the point of sharing a telepathic bond with your husband if you don’t tease him with it sometimes?” Donna threw her head back and laughed, and Rose picked up the fruity cocktail waiting for her to accept her friend’s toast.

“I don’t know how you can handle drinking something that sweet,” Donna said, gesturing to Rose’s mai tai. “Can you even taste the alcohol under all that sugar?”

Rose took a sip and hummed—the resort had used her favourite Maldorian rum. “Not tasting the alcohol is the point, Donna,” she replied. “I like things a little sweet.” She thought of the Doctor pouring sugar into his tea and wrinkled her nose. “Not as sweet as the Doctor does…”

Jenny giggled. “No one likes things as sweet as Dad does.”

A hazy memory came back to Rose, and she focused on it for a minute before she started laughing. She’d only been teasing the Doctor when she’d mentioned telling funny stories at his expense, but this one was too good not to tell.

“You know how much he loves to eat jam, yeah?”

Donna snorted. “That’s hard to miss. At least he uses a spoon, I suppose.”

“Oh, but he hasn’t always,” Rose countered. She set her drink down and turned slightly in her chair to look at her audience. “I remember a time when he would just grab any jar of jam he saw and stick his fingers right in it, without even thinking.”

“Ewww!” Donna wrinkled her nose.

Rose smirked. “I haven’t even mentioned the best part, Donna. We weren’t at home when he did this.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Donna said. “He just took a stranger’s jam jar and stuck his dirty fingers into it?”

Rose nodded. “The look I gave him…” She laughed. “Let’s just say he put the jar back, sharpish.”

oOoOoOoOo

After Rose’s teasing, it had taken a few minutes for the Doctor to settle back into reality on the bus. Honestly, when given a choice between spending the morning with his gorgeous wife in a bikini and spending that time getting to know a group of strangers, there was no contest.

But he hadn’t been given a choice. Rose had asked for a girls’ day, so here he was, on a bus with seven perfect strangers, listening to a recording of Jethro’s band.

The song faded into silence, and the young guitarist hit the stop button on his music player. The genuine applause he got brought a flush to his pale cheeks, and he actually managed a smile.

When the praise died down, the Hostess clapped twice. “May I have your attention please, ladies, gentlemen, and variations thereupon? At this time, there are refreshments available in the galley at the back of the vehicle. I would typically serve you myself, of course, but since we seem to be in a more casual mood today than usual, this seemed appropriate.”

The Doctor grinned and jumped to his feet. “Thank you—hang on, what’s your name?” he asked, realising suddenly that she’d never introduced herself when everyone else had. Even Sky Silvestry had given her name before promptly returning to her book.

The Hostess blinked twice, and the Doctor wondered how many of these tours she led without anyone asking her such a simple, humanising question. He tugged on his ear; he probably wouldn’t have thought of it, if it weren’t for Rose’s influence.

“Anniqua,” she said finally.

“Nice to meet you, Anniqua.” The Doctor held his hand out, and after a moment of hesitation, the Hostess shook it. “What part of the galaxy do you hail from?”

Some of the woman’s stiffness melted away as he kept talking to her like a person, instead of an employee. “I’m from Sto.”

The Doctor brightened. “Oh, I have a friend from Sto!” He remembered as soon as he said it that Astrid had lived close to a thousand years in the past, and he quickly added, “But of course I doubt you know her. Big planet, after all.”

“Yes…” A confused wrinkle appeared on her forehead, then she shook her head and straightened her skirt. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I must get back to work.”

The Doctor watched her go, then meandered towards the galley, where Dee Dee was already pouring the first of two cups of coffee. “I’d ask if you were going to down your coffee double-fisted,” he said, “but I think I know who the other cup is for.”

Dee Dee shrugged as she set one mug down and picked the empty one up. “It’s why I’m here.”

He tilted his head. “Tell me about yourself, Dee Dee. How did you end up on this trip with the professor in the first place? If he’s been here fourteen times, I doubt there’s much he’s going to see that he hasn’t seen before.”

“I’m just a second-year student,” she explained, “but I wrote a paper on the Lost Moon of Poosh. Professor Hobbes read it, liked it, took me on as researcher, just for the holidays. Well, I say researcher.” She laughed self-deprecatingly as she turned around. “Most of the time he’s got me fetching and carrying,” she admitted. “But it’s all good experience.”

The Doctor sighed internally; humans never tired of peddling that lie when they wanted others to work for free. He quickly dismissed the topic of Professor Hobbes and focused on the one that intrigued him a great deal more.

When Dee Dee shifted a few steps to the right, the Doctor stepped up to the counter to pour a coffee for himself. “And did they ever find it?” he asked.

Dee Dee shook her head and frowned. “Find what?”

“The Lost Moon of Poosh,” the Doctor asked. A whole moon, lost! Now that was a subject worth discussing.

Dee Dee laughed. “Oh, no. Not yet.”

“Well,” the Doctor drawled, looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe that’ll be your great discovery, one day. Here’s to Poosh.”

The look in Dee Dee’s eyes was quietly pleased, like no one had ever suggested that she might make a discovery herself, rather than merely assisting the discoveries of others.

“Poosh,” she said, tapping her cup against the Doctor’s.

oOoOoOoOo

After half an hour by the pool, Donna claimed the filtered sunlight was burning her fair skin. Resort staff helped them pull over a few large umbrellas for shade, and they’d continued to enjoy the relaxing atmosphere.

Even without direct sunlight, the comfortable warmth of the Midnight sun almost lulled Rose to sleep. In her relaxed state, her telepathic awareness sharpened.

Jenny was right next to her, and she felt her daughter return her warm greeting. The Doctor gave her the equivalent of a quick hug, along with a glimpse of the group on the tour bus.

Something else teased the edges of her senses, though—an unfamiliar presence. Rose shifted on the chaise lounge, trying to figure out where the unknown telepath was coming from, but she was almost immediately shut out by barriers stronger than anything she’d encountered before. Whoever it was, they were not interested in saying hello.

Rose’s eyes fluttered open, and she knew immediately she would not be able to relax again. They so rarely ran into other telepaths, and the way this person had managed to slam a door in her face, almost without trying, made her uneasy.

She focused on the time and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised she had a good excuse to leave the poolside.

“Come on, you two. It’s almost time for our massages.”

Rose swung her legs out of the chaise lounge and grabbed her bag while Donna and Jenny both yawned and blinked a few times. They put on normal clothes in the changing room, then Rose pulled a map of the resort out of her bag and led them to the massage salon.

As they walked, she casually reached out for the Doctor, eavesdropping a bit on his conversation and paying attention to his mood. By the time she was on the table, the Doctor’s obvious enjoyment of his trip eased most of her anxiety.

He’s on a tour bus, she reminded herself. The passengers all seem normal, and no one else can get in. What could be safer?

oOoOoOoOo

After another forty-five minutes and a meal that was either chicken or beef, or maybe both, the Doctor looked around at his fellow travellers. “Well, does anyone else have an idea of how to pass the time?”

Professor Hobbes half-raised his hand. “I could tell you more about the planet, if you’re interested.”

Biff and Val both rolled their eyes, and Jethro, eager to spite his parents by any means possible, immediately leaned forward and rested his chin on the seat in front of him. “Go on, Professor,” he said, his eyes glittering.

The Doctor covered his mouth to hide his smile, but when the professor looked his direction, he nodded quickly. “Oh, absolutely,” he enthused. “I’d love to hear the things about Midnight that you wouldn’t find in a guidebook.”

Sky shook her head slightly and turned the page of her book. She hadn’t joined in any of the conversation, even though he’d tried to get her talking during lunch. The Doctor sighed; from her vague reference to her recent breakup, he could understand why she wanted to be left alone, but it was still too bad that she was holding herself back from everyone.

The professor and Dee Dee bustled around for a few minutes, getting a slide projector out of their bags and setting it up with Anniqua’s help. “You’ll learn things hardly anyone knows,” Professor Hobbes promised them as they set up. “Midnight proves the point that the more beautiful nature is, the deadlier it is.”

Val raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. The professor didn’t notice her increased interest as he fumbled with getting the slides in the projector, but Biff did. He scowled slightly, but straightened in his seat as well, catching Val’s attention.

The slide carrel clicked into place and the professor walked up to the front of the bus as Dee Dee took his place at the projector. “We’ve sent exploratory robots onto the surface of Midnight.”

A picture of the blue diamond spires of Midnight filled the screen, and Val sucked in a breath. The Doctor pressed his lips together to hide his smile as she stood up, matched almost immediately by her husband.

“The diamonds are genuine, unlike the so-called Sapphire Waterfall,” he explained. “Made of pure carbon, they would be worth a fortune on the market… if it were possible to mine and sell them. Of course, that is not a possibility, because…”

He nodded at Dee Dee, who advanced to the next slide, a diagram showing Midnight orbiting the Xtonic sun. Professor Hobbes pointed at the planet at the centre of the slide. “So, this is Midnight, do you see, bombarded by the sun. Xtonic rays, raw galvanic radiation.”

His pronunciation was solemn, and everyone sat up slightly, paying a bit more attention. Even the Doctor, knowing all of this already, felt a little thrill at the reminder of the danger.

“Dee Dee, next slide.” His research assistant nodded quickly and hit the advance slide button.

“It’s my pet project,” the professor said, rather unnecessarily the Doctor thought, as Hobbes bounced lightly on his toes, an excited smile on his face. “Actually, I’m the first person to research this.” He smiled proudly and gestured with his pen. “Because, you see”—Hobbes sat down in the front row and looked back at them—“the history is fascinating.”

He studied them with wide eyes as he continued to speak in an almost conspiratorial voice. The Doctor got Rose’s attention and showed her what the professor looked like now. Is this what I look like when I start lecturing?

Bit more sexy, she teased. But yeah. That same contagious enthusiasm.

He nodded, understanding better why she found it so appealing, then focused back on the professor.

“There’s no life in this entire system,” Professor Hobbes said, his voice getting louder and faster with every word. “There couldn’t be. Before the Leisure Palace Company moved in, no one had come here in all eternity. No living thing,” he whispered, emphasising his word with his hands.

The bus was silent for a moment as that thought sank in. The Doctor smiled as he watched everyone but Sky look around, getting caught up in the fascination the professor was encouraging.

Everyone, that was, but Jethro. “But how do you know?” he asked, his chin raised in challenge.

The Doctor nodded approvingly; that was an excellent question.

A smirk played with the corners of Jethro’s mouth when he affected a shrug. “I mean, if no one can go outside.”

Val rolled her eyes. “Oh, his imagination. Here we go.”

“He’s got a point, though,” the Doctor countered, and Jethro straightened up slightly at the praise.

Professor Hobbes’ head bobbed a few times and he waved his pen at Jethro. “Exactly! We look upon this world through glass, safe inside our metal box.” He stood up, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “Even the Leisure Palace was lowered down from orbit,” he said, gesturing as he did so. “And here we are now, crossing Midnight, but never touching it.”

Before anyone could comment on that statement, the tour bus stopped, with an ominous grinding noise.

“We’ve stopped,” Val said, then shook her head. “Have we stopped?”

Biff glanced at his watch and the closed door. “Are we there?”

Dee Dee shook her head. “We can’t be. It’s too soon.”

“Th-they don’t stop,” the professor insisted. “Crusader vehicles never stop.”

Anniqua walked slowly to the front of the bus, an uncertain smile pasted on her face. “If you could just return to your seats. It’s just a small delay.” Then she spun around and walked quickly to the back of the vehicle, where she picked up the intercom handset to talk privately to the captain.

The passengers exchanged uneasy glances, but did as she said and sat back down.

“Maybe just a pit stop,” Biff suggested.

That idea would have made people feel better, except Professor Hobbes quickly jumped in to deny the possibility. “There’s no pit to stop in. I’ve been on this expedition fourteen times. They never stop.”

The Doctor had been watching Sky from the moment the bus had ground to a halt. As soon as the noise shattered the stillness of the trip, she’d dropped her book and sat ramrod straight, with her hands clutched around the arms of her seat. Her knuckles had gotten whiter with every suggestion and question posited by the travellers, and he could see her shoulders heaving with unsteady breaths.

But the professor’s tenacious insistence on denying the obvious broke through what little calm she had. She rounded on him with a snarl. “Well, evidently we have stopped, so there’s no point in denying it.”

Professor Hobbes slunk away until he was standing in front of his seat, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Sky with wounded pride.

Jethro laughed. “We’ve broken down.”

“Thanks, Jethro,” his mum said sarcastically.

Getting under her skin was all the motivation Jethro needed to continue. “In the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s enough. Now stop it,” Biff ordered.

Anniqua walked down the middle aisle, interrupting the family argument before it could get worse. “Ladies and gentlemen, and variations thereupon. We’re just experiencing a short delay.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he took in the nervous energy vibrating off her. The screen that had been lowered earlier to play the cartoon was still down, and she reached for it and pulled until it retracted into the ceiling. Then she straightened her blazer, still trying to find an outlet for her obvious anxiety.

She smiled at them, but her dilated pupils made it obvious how upset she was. The driver needs to stabilise the engine feeds. It’s perfectly routine, so if you could just stay in your seats.”

The Doctor frowned; the tour vehicle ran on micropetrol engines, and micropetrol didn’t need to be stabilised. He felt Rose’s attention sharpen as his mood turned serious, and he walked to the cabin door, intent on asking the drivers for the real story.

“No, I’m sorry, sir,” Anniqua said, trying to stop him.

The Doctor ignored the rest of her sputtering and held up the psychic paper. “There you go. Engine expert. Two ticks.” He pushed the button that opened the door and stepped inside the cockpit, while Anniqua continued trying to call him back to his seat.

There were two seats, and the Doctor placed his elbows on their backs and leaned forward. An older white man looked back at him while a young black man kept fiddling with the controls, trying to get the vehicle to move again.

“Sorry,” said the man who’d turned around, and the Doctor recognised the voice of Driver Joe. “If you could return to your seat, sir.”

The Doctor held up the psychic paper again while he examined the engine readouts. “Company insurance. Let’s see if we can get an early assessment.” He slid the wallet back into his pocket and looked down at the driver. “So, what’s the problem, Driver Joe?”

“We’re stabilising the engine feeds,” Joe lied. “Won’t take long.”

“Um, no,” the Doctor contradicted, “because that’s the engine feed, that line there,” he said, pointing at the screen, “and it’s fine. And it’s a micropetrol engine, so stabilising doesn’t really make sense, does it?” Joe grimaced up at him, and the Doctor shrugged. “Sorry. I happen to know a lot about engines. I’m the Doctor, by the way.” He held out his hand, and Joe shook it reluctantly. “So, what’s actually wrong?”

Joe hesitated, but his counterpart did not. “We just stopped.” The younger man gestured at the instrument readouts around them. “Look, all systems fine, everything’s working, but we’re not moving.”

The Doctor frowned and pulled out the sonic screwdriver, but a quick scan confirmed what the young man had told him. “Yeah, you’re right. No faults. And who are you?”

“Claude. I’m the mechanic. Trainee,” he added quickly, probably before Joe could humiliate him by correcting him.

“Nice to meet you,” the Doctor said as he put the sonic back in his pocket.

Joe pointed to a flashing light on the control panel. “I’ve sent a distress signal. They should dispatch a rescue truck, top speed.”

The Doctor sighed; there went his tour, but there was nothing for it, really. “How long till they get here?”

“About an hour.”

“Well, since we’re waiting, shall we take a look outside?” Joe’s jaw dropped, and the Doctor nodded at the screen blocking their view of the planet’s surface. “Just lift the screens a bit?”

Joe breathed hard, the fear pouring off him. “It’s a hundred percent Xtonic out there. We’d be vaporised.”

“Nah,” the Doctor said dismissively. “Those windows are Finitoglass—they’d give you a couple of minutes.” Joe glanced at the screen, then back at him, and the Doctor grinned. “Go on, live a little.”

Joe shook his head and laughed once, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to do. “Well.” Then he hit a button, and the screen went up quickly.

Bright white light filled the cockpit. “Wow,” Joe breathed.

The Doctor drank in the sight of a new planet. The thrill that coursed through him at the sight of the crystalline spires was even stronger than it usually was. This was a sight no living creature had ever seen.

“Oh, that is beautiful,” he murmured. The spires here were taller and more elaborate than the ones near the leisure palace. The formation directly in front of them reminded him of Lincoln Cathedral, with two towers rising high above a shorter structure.

“Look at all those diamonds,” Claude said, pointing to where the sunlight glinted off the surface. “Poisoned by the sun. No one can ever touch them.”

“Joe, you said we took a detour?” the Doctor asked, without looking away from the view.

“Just about forty kliks to the west.”

“Is that a recognised path?”

“No, it’s a new one,” Joe replied. “The computer worked it out on automatic.”

“So we’re the first,” the Doctor whispered. It felt like a sacred moment, too important for normal voices. “This piece of ground. No one’s ever been here before. Not in the whole of recorded history.”

The moment was broken when Claude moved quickly, pointing out at the planet. “Did you just?” He shook his head. “No, sorry, it’s nothing.”

But the Doctor wouldn’t let him second-guess himself. “What did you see?”

Claude pointed at the closest spire. “Just there. That ridge,” he said, wiggling his finger so the Doctor would look at the second level of the formation. “Like, like a shadow. Just, just for a second.”

“What sort of shadow?” Maybe Jethro was right!

An alarm started beeping before Claude could answer. “Xtonic rising.” Joe pressed a button, and the shield started coming down. “Shields down.”

“Look, look.” Claude pointed frantically at the sliver of landscape still visible. “There it is, there it is. Look, there.”

“Where?” The shield closed completely, and the Doctor looked at Claude. “What was it?”

Claude’s pupils were blown and he was breathing heavily. “Like just something shifting.” He finally looked away from the screen. “Something sort of dark, like it was running.”

“Running which way?” the Doctor pressed.

Claude swallowed hard. “Towards us.”

A frisson of excitement and fear went down the Doctor’s back.

“Right, Doctor, back to your seat,” Joe snapped. “And, er, not a word. Rescue’s on its way. If you could close the door. Thank you.”

The Doctor straightened up and left the cockpit. My tour isn’t exactly going as planned, he told Rose. In fact, they’ve sent a rescue vehicle and we’ll be back at the resort in… oh, three hours?

Well, you broke your cardinal rule just before boarding, she pointed out, a hint of cheek in her voice. You asked what could possibly go wrong.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #fic by Nancy #cq's fic: forever and never apart #series: Being to Timelessness #Midnight!#there are some changes coming #big changes #but this chapter flows pretty much in line with the episode #I hope you like it!

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stydias-otp · 7 years

Text

Dylan O'Brien imagine (Stiles)

(A/N- I got the idea of this imagine by one of the dreams I had after I watched the season 3B. I don’t know how many parts there is going to be. Also I don’t think I can post these everyday because I have school. So bear with me.)

Plot: pretend that kiras mom didn’t creat the nogitsune. Also pretend that kiras mom and the nogitsune weren’t in love when they was human. Kiras mom and her were best friends. Also The nogitsune has a true love that died with him when he was still human. And it is kinda like the ghost thing off of suicide squad

But doesn’t look like that. It just is like a ghost thing and has half of the powers she has. Like when she hurts someone she takes thier pain and gives it to void to make him stronger. But he doesn’t use her just for that. The only love in his heart is for her. also you don’t have to stab a heart to kill it you kill the nogitsune then she dies.Anyway the nogitsune possesses Stiles because he has a true love (you). You are trapped in this tiny bottle on a necklace. So I’m order to get you put of the bottle he has to find someone who has a true love. And when he gets killed you go back into the bottle. IF YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND COMMENT WHAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND AND I WILL TELL YOU. 👍

Stiles pov

I was in the hospital about to get an MRI. I have been having these side effects lately and they think I have the same thing my mother had.

I was sitting on the bed why my dad and the doctor talked. “I’m not sure if I actually know how to pronounce this or if it’s not actually a misspelling.” The doctor said, looking down at his paper. “Just call him Stiles.” Dad replied as the doctor looked up at him then at me. “Okay. Stiles, just to warn you, you’re going to hear alot of noise during the MRI. It’s due to pulses of electricity going throught the metal coils inside the machine. Uh, if you want we can get you some earplugs or headphones.” The doctor said and I looked up to him replying “Oh, no, no, I don’t need anything.” “Hey, we’re just on the other side of that window. Okay?” My dad said and I nodded. “Okay” My dad, Mellissa, and the doctor walked out of the room. Scott and Y/N still standing next to me. It was quiet until I spoke up “You know what they’re looking for, right?” They just stood there looking down “It’s called frontotemperal dementia.” They looked at me. “Areas of your brain start to shrink. It’s what my mother had…… it’s the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers. And there’s no cure.” Scott was looking down as Y/N’s eyes started to water. “Stiles if you have it, we’ll do something.” Scott said now looking at Stiles again. “I’ll do something.” We looked at Scott. All of a sudden Scott starts to hug me. I hugged him back (😭the feels).

We hugged for about two minutes before Scott patted me on my back and walked out.

I look up to see Y/N standing there with her arms crossed, head down, tears threatening to escape from her eyes.

I stand up and pull her to me. She wraps her arms around my waist and starts sobbing into my chest. “Shh. It’s going to be okay. I’ll be fine.” I said reassuringly. “What if it’s not. What if you have frontotemperal dementia and something happens to you. I wouldn’t be able to live if I knew something happened to you.” She looked up. I placed my hands on her cheeks, getting her to look at me. “Your starting to sound like me.” I say and she giggled slightly. I smile. Man I love her laugh. It can brighten anyone’s day.

I pulled her in our lips touching in a passionate kiss. She pulls away, hugging me. She places a kiss on my nose before walking out of the room. I sigh, laying back onto the bed.

I start to move into the machine. I stop then hear the doctors voice. “Okay, Stiles. This will take about 45 minutes to an hour. Now remember try not to move. Even just a little bit.” The machine starts. “Stiles, you’re going to hear that noise now. It’s going to be a loud clanging. Kind of like a hammer hitting and anvil.” When he said that I start hearing the clanging noise.

After about 20 minutes I start to get nervous. I squeeze my eyes shut. Everything went black

I look around. I’m in the MRI room. I look behind me to see the nogitsune run behind the machine. “Have you figured out my riddle yet?” I start walking around the machine and he moves the other way. “If you awnser correctly, we might consider letting them go.” He came around the machine so now I could see him. “Letting who go?” I replied. He turned around whispering “Your friends. Your family. Everyone who ever meant something to you. Y/N.” When he said that my lip started quivering. He continued “We’re going to destroy all of them, Stiles. One-by-one.” “Why?” I asked, he just whispered “Everyone has it, but no one can loose it. What is it?” He turns to look at me. “I don’t know.” “Everyone has it, but no one can loose it. What is it?” He says again, walking towards me. “I don’t know.” I say a little bit louder. “EVERYONE HAS IT, BUT NO ONE CAN LOOSE IT. WHAT IS IT?” He shouts starting to take of the bandages around his head. “What is it?” He says again. I was facing the opposite direction as him. “I DON’T KNOW!” I yell, holding my head.

I lower my hands from my head. “What is it, Stiles?” “A shadow.” I say in a whisper.

I slowly turn to look at him as he pulls off the last few bandages. When he does he looks up at me. My eyes widen. He isn’t covered in bandages anymore. Instead he looks exactly like me. Except his eyes are darker and it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He looks at me and smirks. So this is why he wanted me to answer this rittle. He’s like my shadow.

Everything went black again. ——— Third person pov

Instead of Stiles laying on the bed, in his layed Void. He opened his eyes to show a darker brown filled with pain. He moves his head from right to left then up.

The light flicker in the room Mellisa, Sheriff, Y/N, and the doctor were in. “What was that?” Mellisa said as everyone looked up. “It sounded like the power surge.” The doctor said.

Sheriff looks to the left through the glass to see no one in the other side. “Where’s my son?” ———- Scott pov

While me and Derek were on the roof of the hospital we were looking for things that Stiles was trying to do. Or Void.

It has been about thirty minutes when I hear something. I turn around and the power surge blows up. Sparks and fire flying everywhere. Me and Derek jump back as a cable starts to loose control. ————- Y/N pov

As soon as sheriff said that I looked through the class to see Stiles missing. I bolt out of the room and down the hallway of the hospital. I turn a corner to see Stiles halfway down the hallway walking in the other direction. “STILES!” I scream and he stops, turning around. He smirks as he starts walking towards me.

“WHERE DID YOU GO!” I yelled as he continued to walk towards me. “Stiles?” I ask as he stands directly infront of me. He reaches for something around his neck. He pulls off a necklace that has a little bottle with a skull for a charm.

He took the top off and some type of mist thing came out of it coming towards me. I started to walk backwards. He starts speeding towards me grabbing my hands as the mist like thing went inside my body. I went limp.

(A/n- new pov😉)

Void pov

Y/N’s body went limp. I held her in my arms. I then put the cap back on the bottle and put the neclace back around my neck. I look down at her and her eyes open. When she looks up at me I smirk. I stand up pulling her with me. I wrap my arms around her waist. “Man, it feels good to have you back.” I say leaning my forehead in hers. “It feels good to be back.” She says pressing her lips to mine. Our lips move in sync. Her hands moving to my cheeks. My tounge licks her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She gladly accepts and our tounges play with eachothers.

We were interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors opening. We look over to see our very old friend Nashiko (Kiras mom). I pull away from (let’s just call her Y/N) and we start walking toward her. “You know me.” Nashiko says and I nod. “Then you remember that I won’t be deterred by your choice of host. Even if it’s an innocent boy and girl. "Are you threatening us?"I ask then oni appear behind her. "Now I’m threatening you.” She said and Y/N let out a dry laugh. “We’re not really afraid of your little fireflies.” I said as Me and Y/N turned around and started walking down the hallway. “I know someone who will.” Noshiko said causing me to turn my head and smirk. ———– Kira pov

I was standing outside the hospital when I hear sparks and look up to see a cable flying everywhere. “Oh my God.” I whispered. An ambulance started to pull up before the cable hit it and it hit a fire hydrant causing water to spray all over the road.

Cars pulled up and stoped as the water kept getting closer. Allison and Isaac pulled up and got out. The water went past the door of the ambulance as the driver for out, stepped in it, and got shocked. I ran forward screaming “Get back! Everyone, get back! Everyone, get back!” Allison tries to run in the water to help the man, but Isaac pushes her away.

He starts to head in the water. “Isaac!” Allison screams as Isaac walked in the water, falling after getting shocked.

I gasp. Another car pulls up and a woman steps out getting shocked. This one person drives straight through the water toward me and as they got close I run up the front of the car, flipping landing in the water.

Scott and Derek run up, but as Scott tries to run in the water Derek puts his hand on Scotts chest and holds him back.

I grab the cable with my right hand and put my left hand over the top of the cable where the sparks are coming out. I absorb the electricity and then throw the cable down.

Derek runs to where Isaac was laying. “Isaac.” Derek whispers. “He’s not breathing. Scott, he’s not breathing!” Derek yells.

Scott pov

I hear an echo of Derek’s voice saying “He’s not breathing. Scott he’s not breathing!” It all happened so fast. It was all a blur. Isaac was being rushed to the emergency room and I could hear kiras mom talking to her. “I saw what you did. Now is not the time for anybody else to see.” Then they ran out of the hospital. Then I saw Parish. “Two people said they saw Stiles’ jeep leave the hospital.” Then there was Sheriff. “Someone needs to find him now.” I saw my dad pick up the cable. He looks at someone behind him and says “is it me, or was this cut? Tell the others to keep an eye out for any signs of sabotage” I then wake up realizing that it was just a dream about what happened last night (All of this did happen but this was kinda like a flash back).

I sit up, sitting on the side. I hear Derek through my wolf hearing.

“You have to tell Stilinski. You have to tell him what’s really wrong with Stiles.” I get up and walk downstairs to see my mom. “Any news?” I ask her, but she still doesn’t look at me. “They’re still looking for them. It’s past the 48-hour mark, but if I guess of anyone’s going to be missing for two days and turn up just fine, it’s then two. ” What about Isaac?“ I ask and she gets up. "Maybe we should go by the hospital before school.” I nod. We walk out of the house and in our way to the hospital I keep thinking about all of my friends. Y/N and Stiles are missing and Isaac I in the hospital. I have to keep them safe. No matter what it takes.

I’ll go after school and look for them. I’ve known them since pre-k. They’re my best friends. My family.

_____________ A/N- for gifs and everything better go follow me on Wattpad Stydia-Otp and read my Tyler Posey and Dylan O'Brien imagines 😄

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sugirandom · 8 years

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365 days of writing: day 41

Day 41: Warehouse

I got a shave at the barber this morning and now my face feels odd because I’m so used to having facial hair. I did keep my upper lip hair though so it’s not all gone and I assume it will grow back so I shouldn’t worry too much. The woman who did my shave was nice so it was a decent experience. I meant to do more today other than catching up on youtube videos but Poppy came home a lot earlier than expected and that just sort of through off the rhythm of my day so I guess I’ll play my new game or draw some tomorrow. I messed up on what day Mikasa’s birthday was and I ended up talking myself out of drawing something for that day anyway. Perhaps I’ll do it for Eren’s birthday or maybe another character, we’ll see how things go I guess.

My nose is still a mess today. It was fine for quite a few hours but then it seemed to start acting up again so I guess I’ll have to take some allergy medicine with dinner tonight. Poppy brought home salmon so I assume we’ll be having that for dinner. I guess I was pretty worn out from work so I might feel up to doing more stuff tomorrow and I just have to allow myself to be a bit lazy on Friday every now and then.

Yesterday my boss just up and told me I’d be heading to the warehouse to do work. Naturally, I was happy to get away from shredding all day but I’d never worked at the warehouse before so I spent the first few hours acting like a fish out of water. It didn’t help that I was heading up there with the coworkers who are close to me in age and the driver’s brother blasts his music. I hadn’t felt that much pain in my ears for a long time. I had to squeeze the door’s handle to keep myself from raging at them for playing the music so loud. I did ask him to turn it down but even after he turned it down it was very loud.

We were working on election equipment or testing it rather to make sure it was still in good shape after the election since we’ll be electing governs next year and it all needs to be in good shape by then. They had at least two different sets of speakers playing music while we were working and all this stuff was brand new to me so I was doing things very slow while the guy teaching me tried to get me to follow the procedures properly. At first he was a little daunting but he encouraged me and gave proper praise when I seemed to be getting the hang of things. They are all apparently losing their hearing though since whenever I was testing the sound on the device with headphones he’d jack the volume up when I was already perfectly capable of hearing it. Most of the people at the warehouse know nothing about my hyperacusis and even if they did I imagine I’d still have to tough it out since I don’t want to ruin everyone’s day just because my ears are in agony. My hope is that we only have one more week to work on this stuff but who knows how long it will take.

I think I will pack more ibuprofen in my bag since that seems to help dull the pain my ears are in. I don’t think I’m allowed to wear earplugs but I guess if I’m in too much agony at the end of the day Monday I can try to speak to our boss and ask for permission. I think he’d prefer that I’m able to stay sane since I do tend to make mistakes when my ear pain acts up since I can become very irritable and angry. I’ve had a lot of practice with keeping it in and trying to appear as calm as possible but it isn’t easy. I’m glad people can’t hear my thoughts because on the drive back when my coworker cranked up his music my mental voice was livid and expressed things I’d never say to the guy in person. He’s a nice guy but that sort of thing goes out the window when my ears are sore enough. If I wasn’t able to stay calm I’m worried I’d be considered insane, I’ve read cases of people who have it worse who just completely break down. I worry it might happen to me someday but hopefully that will never be the case.

Well, that’s about all I have to say for now. Hopefully I’ll have another topic in mind to talk about tomorrow. I do want to try to at least do something creative tomorrow whether it’s drawing or more work on my stories. If I don’t write any of the actual stories tomorrow I want to at least try to do something with them. If I play Chrono Cross though that might take up my time instead. Especially since I also have to watch the YGO movie at some point. Oh well, we’ll just have to see what happens won’t we?

#365 days of writing #day 41 #Sugi writes

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djmaza4u-blog · 7 years

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Silence makes you to Smarter

Throughout school and graduate school, I did my best add utter silence. within the former that always meant escaping to a quiet corner of the library, and within the case of the latter, my one-bedroom lodging provided the peace I wanted.

You may assume it’s a crazy plan however in actual reality, it makes plenty of sense once you extremely return to trust it. consistent with science, silence is crucial to our brain’s development and since we’re living terribly} incessantly developing world wherever peace and quiet are often very scarce, it is sensible to form our ways that to quiet places to rejuvenate and refresh ourselves rather than progressing to party hot spots. Here’s why silence is that the root of all brilliance.

It wasn’t till I started operating professionally, in open-office environments, that I started paying attention to music after I worked. I reach for my headphones after I wish to focus, after I wish to resound the myriad noises around me—a associate on the phone, a automotive alarm going off outside, AN impromptu table Pine Tree Stateeting next to me. It’s a startup workplace therefore there’s perpetually an honest quantity of activity occurring, and none of it’s silent. So, I decide a listing and arrange to clean up what’s occurring around Pine Tree State as I write this text or edit that one.

But once reading a recent INC. article that points to analysis suggesting the advantage of silence on our minds, I understand i could be doing myself—my brain—a injury by perpetually seeking out sound, and ne’er silence, to induce through the day.

Total, utter silence—not dissonance that kind of masks itself as a sort of quiet, not close noise—helps result in the expansion of latest brain cells, aids in memory, and enhances self-reflection.

Silence Regenerates Brain Cells In 2013, a study was done on some mice to see however noise and silence affects the brain. Silence was imagined to be a bearing think about the experiment however to the scientists’ feeling, the mice truly developed new cells in their hippocampus (the a part of the brain that’s related to learning, feeling and memory) once exposed to silence for 2 hours each day. A man of science of the study even declared that silence facilitateed the generated cells to grow to be neurons and integrate into the system; that merely implies that silence help to grow the brain–literally. Now, that’s just mind-blowing.

Silence Relieves Tension and Stress Noise is thought to own physical result on our brain and unleash stress hormones. It’s most likely no surprise that folks living within the busy town tend to own higher levels of stress compared to those that don’t. A faculty member of demography, Gary W. Evans declared that even though noise doesn’t manufacture any hearing harm, it will still be a hazard to health. In contrary to noise, silence but relieves tension and stress within the brain.

Silence Stimulates Internalizing and Evaluating info of the Brain A study exhausted 2001 discovered that even once our brain is resting and in sleep-mode, it is incessantly internalizing and evaluating info actively. Besides that, once the brain is in its default mode, it’s able to mirror on profound matters in an explicit approach that helps US to method things higher. perhaps that’s why we’re sent to a quiet corner once stepping into petty fights and arguments with our siblings once we were still kids–to mirror. or even that’s simply Pine Tree State. Silence Replenishes the Brain’s psychological feature Resources Studies have found that noise truly harms task performance or duties at each work and college. Noise is additionally same to be a potential reason for increase in mistakes created likewise as decrease in motivation. aside from that, noise additionally affects psychological feature functions like downside determination, memory and additionally reading attention. Silence but, helps in ill a number of these ablated psychological feature skills.

So the next time you’re deciding between going out for a celebration on a Fri night or just staying reception, it doesn’t hurt to often pay some “me” time alone at home!

In theory, this all sounds nice, however what the euphemism area unit you imagined to do if you’re employed in a very loud, active place? (And then return to loud, active place?) even though your workplace isn’t notably clamorous, there’s still the sound of typewriting, folks walking regarding, doors gap and shutting, occasional production, and chairs scraping to cope with. It’s tough to flee. therefore what are you able to do? however are you able to realize the apparently elusive peace and quiet that your brain apparently has to thrive?

1. Purchase Earplugs

They’re low-cost, reliable, and that they work. Of course, if your co-workers play music sans headphones and also the general ambience of your space is that the furthest issue from chill, you’re progressing to ought to take your earplugs and go one step further—maybe it’s to a quiet corner of the workplace or a no-phones-allowed private space.

Perhaps it’s outside the workplace doors. Why not head to your automotive for a number of reflective minutes within the early afternoon? Don’t drive to work? realize a bench or a patch of grass that’s off from the most paseo. And don’t withdraw at prime lunch hour. Let yourself relish within the oddly silent moment(s) before you tackle the remainder of the day.

2. Begin Meditation and observe

Several of my colleagues and friends have developed meditation practices, and that they appear higher for it. though it are often exhausting to settle into—our brains area unit zany, wandering things—all you’re extremely craving for is peace, calm, quiet. As Inc.’s Betsy Mikel points out, “Without stimulation and distraction, your brain needn’t focus and goes into a default mode of kinds.” It’s not that your brain goes to show off whereas you’re meditating, however it’ll have a chance to figure with what it’s within the quiet house you’ve given it, and that’s one thing that you simply don’t get to try and do once you’re wedged by music and different noises.

3. Realize a Window

No, I’m not talking a couple of real window; rather, realize a window of your time during which to take a seat while not the intrusion of sound to grant your brain an opportunity to reset, rest, and kind the data it’s. perhaps this can be very first thing within the morning as you sit along with your cup of occasional. perhaps it’s late in the dark before you arrange to fully clean up for seven or eight hours.

If you’re employed remotely or from home at some point per week, carve out time once no outside noise is allowed. which will mean powering off your phone, giving your keyboard a rest, closing the door to the quietest space in your house for a number of minutes along with your dog on the opposite side—whatever and whenever is sensible in order that you’re not perpetually subjected to sounds.

Although you purportedly want 2 hours of silence each day to supply new brain cells, there’s an honest likelihood that AN hour or maybe a 0.5 AN hour can offer some brain advantages. And, who knows, if you start to relish the absence of sound, you’ll most likely discern how to form it happen additional often times.[read more...]

Content credit: FilmyWap

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unpopcorned · 7 years

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“Hey, ‘Sika, you seen my headphones?”

“I’ve been home - like, six minutes and you’re already asking.”

“Y’seen ‘em or not?”

Masika shrugs a shoulder, pulls a lavender shirt from her suitcase and tosses it onto the bed, “In the living room. By the recliner.”

“Thanks,” Even with her telling him, Sam still lingers in the doorway of her old room, eyeing her. He’s gone through another growth spurt, a little over six feet now. It looks like he hasn’t really gotten used to it - hands and feet still a little too big. She can’t help but wondering when he’ll stop shooting up, he’s twenty now, “You like it out there?”

“Out where?”

“In the city. All those people. College.”

She shrugs again, nonplussed, “Yeah. Why? You thinking about it?”

“Maybe,” he’s never been the decisive type, he bites at his upper lip uncertainly. He looks like dad when he makes that face, “Ma’s been on my ass ‘bout it.”

“You sit around all day, I don’t blame her.”

“I don’t sit around all day. I got a job.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Burger place. Darius hooked me up.”

Her hands slow - carefully, she continues folding the pair of jeans in her hands, looking up to meet his eyes, “Darius? You been hanging out with Darius?”

“Not really. Andre and Steph lemme come around though,” He leans against her doorway. Masika knows her brother well - he’s a little more introverted than her and Kurt, she can’t imagine him around someone as loud as Andre. But she doesn’t say that, she’s not the older sibling here, even if she may feel as though she is sometimes, “They cool.”

“You like the job?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Mmm,” Masika nods, folds another shirt onto the bed - she’s planning to move the pile into the dresser soon, “You should start lookin’ online. If you wait around for somethin’ to happen, you’re gonna end up like Gran.”

“Y’say that all the time.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He’s already waving her off, leaving her bedroom to go and search what he came for in the first place. Masika exhales, pushes curly hair from her forehead - her room had always been the most stuffy, the heat blowing at full wasn’t helping any. Sometimes, she doesn’t understand Sam. No initiative, no motivation, she doesn’t know where it came from. There’s only so much she can do or say, he seems like the type that would be comfortable where he is now for the rest of his life.

She supposes nothing is wrong with that. At least, for him. Sometimes, she has a hard time believing they’re brother and sister.

Masika does a slow once over of her old bedroom - it still looks the same. Purple wallpaper with butterflies, matching dresser and tan carpet. A few posters and awards here and there. Mostly for academics. And then she spots her graduation picture on the far wall - her smiling face, Andre next to her, along with his ex-girlfriend and her classmate Dondria. Seems like a long time ago now.

By the time she leaves her room, the sun is already setting. She’d hoped to be out of the house much sooner, at least before her father got home. When she enters the kitchen, the first person she spots is her mother finishing up her homemade casserole, Uncle Eli was sitting at the table, a piece of half-eaten garlic bread in front of him. Masika passes by the couch in the living room, Sam is sitting there with his headphones in his ears, laptop in front of him ( Masika doesn’t know how that thing still manages to run ).

“You’re finished? Already?” Her mother asks when she gets close enough. Masika tries to reach over and swipe some food, it results in a swift pop to the back of her hand, “You better not have left any clothes laying around.”

“I didn’t,” Masika grouses, rubs at her finger.

“Good,” She looks back towards Elijah, “Are you going to stay for dinner?”

He shrugs, exchanging a look with his niece, “I should start headin’ back. Got lots of paperwork to finish.”

“You’re always workin’. Stay and eat. What would Mama say?” He looks close to rolling his eyes, and Tatiana glances at Masika, “Go and wash up for dinner. Your dad will be home in a minute.”

Masika’s shoulders tense up, “Actually...I was gonna go eat somewhere else.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?” Her mother’s thin eyebrows have picked up high on her forehead.

Masika avoids her eyes, “Darius’.”

“Ohhhh,” Obviously, Sam’s earplugs must’ve not been very high, he pulls one from his ear, grinning in their direction, “You still tryin’ to get with Darius? Outta your league, sis.”

“More like the other way around,” Her mother mutters, to which Elijah shrugs at, “That boy still at his mama’s house.”

“So is Sam,” Masika points out, irritated, “You don’t nag at him.”

“Sam is a child.”

“He’s older than me!”

Speaking of her brother, he’s entered the kitchen now, carefully balancing his laptop with one hand. Hopefully, it doesn’t fall - Masika doubts their parents will buy another one, “You liiiiike Darius. You like Dariiiuus. You wanna kiiiiiss him, you wanna fuuuuck him--”

“Samuel!”

“My bad, ma’.”

Masika swats at her brother’s shoulder, he skillfully dodges, “Shut up.”

“Good comeback, sis. You ain’t denyin’ it though.”

“I do not like Darius.”

“Good,” Elijah grunts from the table, “You could do better.”

Before Masika can protest, her mother is already speaking up, “What happened to that cute boy from your school? What was his name - Tyler?”

Masika’s nose wrinkles up, immediately she shakes her head, “He didn’t like my music.”

“Means he’s got good tastes,” Masika tries to hit her brother again, he sticks garlic bread into his mouth and flees back to the living room, “You missed!”

“Don’t you think you’re a little too concerned with that, Masika? It’s a pattern here, baby. First, Jermaine, then Gregory, Len, now Tyler--”

“Which one is Jermaine?” Elijah has looked up from his watch, which he’d been checking randomly, “Did you bring him home?”

“I never bring any of them home. You know why? ‘Cause they’re--” She catches the look her mother gives her, “‘cause they’re jerks.”

“You gotta put all your attention on a man. If you don’t, you ain’t gonna keep one.”

“Tati, don’t tell her no bullshit like that--”

“It ain’t! It’s the truth. Put yourself out there, sweetheart. One-hundred percent. You putting music over finding a good man ain’t gonna do any good for you...”

By then, Masika has already tuned them out. She nods subconsciously along with her mother’s words, it’s turned into ( “blah blah blah blah blah and another thing, blah blah” ) before Masika finally speaks up again, “Ma’, I’m gonna be late.”

“Fine, fine. You’re missin’ out though. Be back by ten.”

“Sure.” Maybe even later, if it meant not seeing her father’s face. She’d prefer to avoid him at all costs. There’s a chilling breeze when she makes it outside, Masika shrugs on her thick jacket, down the stairs of the porch and walking past Uncle Eli’s old car. Each stone on the sidewalk is different - some chipped at the ends, some with graffiti, some with chalk drawings, a line of them with a faded hopscotch board, Masika half-assed does it, nearly trips on the last one.

“Masika! Sweetie, is that you?”

It’s a familiar voice, Masika turns her head in its direction, lighting up when she sees Old Miss Patricia sitting on her porch, rocking back and forth on her old chair. Masika walks over, lingers by the steps, the elder woman watches her, bright brown eyes and all. Even with her husband passing away a few years ago, she still manages a smile.

“Hey, Mrs. G,” Masika stops on the second porch step, “You doin’ alright?”

The woman nods, she’s smiling down at her, “Mhmm. Diabetes messin’ up a little, but I’m good. Real good. Better seein’ you, baby. How’re you?”

“I’m great,” she replies, “Can’t complain, you know?”

“You gotten so big...” She’s staring at her, a fond look in her eyes, “I just saw Sam the other day, I remember when he was this big,” She makes a vague gesture with her thin hand, a few inches from the ground, “And that - that boy that used to come around here...”

“Andre?”

“No, no...that boy - that boy needs to learn some manners, Andre,” She shakes her head, “Always walkin’ around with a new girl, every time I see him.”

“You gotta stop spying out your window, Mrs. G. It’ll just make you angry.”

“Mmm...but - that boy. That used to come around here. Devin...DeQuan...”

“Darius?”

“Yes! HIm. I saw him and we were talking. Such a sweet boy. He’s gotten so big too. I told him - he needs to do somethin’ about that hair. I never seen a boy with so much hair...”

“Yeah,” Masika’s smiling, looking down to her shoes and then back to Mrs. G, “You’re taking care of yourself, right? I’m here for a couple weeks, I can come around and help you clean the house.”

“I’m fine, baby. Thank you. Your mama comes over here all the time. She’s trying to make me fat.”

With how much weight she has lost, Masika doesn’t blame her. But still, she keeps her smile. They only talk for a few moments longer, Masika makes a mental note to stop by again and help how she could, whether Mrs. G wanted it or not, “Mrs. G, don’t stay out here all night, okay? It’s gonna get cold.”

The elder woman only waves her off. So, Masika will be sure to check on her when she’s heading home later. Darius’ house is a few blocks away - farther than it was before since her parents had recently moved into a house with better plumbing. On her way there, she spots a police car slowly making its way down the street, graffiti on the wall of an old store, a group of men lingering outside of a liquor place.

As much as she’d missed home, it’s a little easy not to miss it as well.

A knock on the door, she hears muffled voices from inside - probably the television. Mrs. Jordan looks as pretty as ever when she answers the door. Pretty, but still very tired. The bags under her eyes never seem to disappear, no matter how many years pass.

“Masika?” Her expression lifts, she looks surprised and then beyond happy. She opens the door quickly, taking Masika into an almost too-tight hug, “Hey, baby girl! You look - I mean...” She holds Masika at arms’ length to get a better look at her, “How long it’s been, hm?”

“Few months,” Masika is practically beaming - Mrs. Jordan was definitely like a second mother to her, there was no denying that, “How’re you?”

“Good, I’m doing good. Still got a full house,” she drops her hands, looks at Masika in slight awe before she twists her mouth lightly to the side, “Y’know, you always show up at the most terrible times, girl. I got called into work, late shift. But we need to catch up.”

“My mom is having Sunday dinner this weekend. If you wanna come--”

“Of course. I’ll be there. I’ll bring the boys--Oh! Hurry up and come inside before it gets cold,” She pulls Masika inside of the house, and Masika quickly disposes of her shoes and jacket. The smell is homey, brings back old memories of crayons and running until you’re out of breath and cooking late at night, “Had to drop the boys off at my mother’s for the weekend, peace and quiet. Finally.”

Masika steps further into the room, spots someone moving out of the kitchen.

Mrs. Jordan puts her hands on her hips, “Darius! Come and say hi, boy.”

Darius looks the same, just like the last time she’d seen him. A couple times, she’d came to see him out of worry, after the funeral. Masika shifts in spot, looks at him expectantly. He doesn’t disappoint, as soon as he sees her, this cheesy grin comes to her face - a familiar smile, a bittersweet smile - and he’s stepping forward to hug her tight, rocking them both side to side.

“’Ey, Miss College.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” When he pulls away slightly, Masika grips his shoulders, looking him up and down, “You getting taller?”

“Nah, nah,” he looks close to laughing and he does - he’s gained some of his weight back, she can tell, “Your brother like a pole, though.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe you gettin’ shorter.”

“Yeah? I’m gettin’ shorter.”

“Your hair’s all big - tryin’ to create an illusion and everythin’.”

“Boy--”

“Look at you two, hm?” Mrs. Jordan hasn’t left yet, she’s standing off to the side, watching them, “Remember when you guys used to build forts all over the room with the covers and--”

“Maaaaaa’,” Darius lightly complains, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling.

“I’m just sayin’! You two are so cute--Lemme get my camera real quick--”

“You gonna be late,” Darius tells her, almost laughing, “Ma’, c’mon.”

“Okay, okay,” His mother is already grabbing her purse and jacket. She gives both Masika and Darius kisses to the cheek, “I’ll be back later, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, ma’.” Darius watches her leave, closes the door after her. Masika begins to look around - things are still the same. A laundry basket in the corner, the same couch, TV in front of it, shoes almost everywhere. His mother still keeps things as clean as possible, even with four boys. It’s kind of amazing, “How long you in town for?”

Masika turns to face him, he’s making his way slowly over to her side, hands deep in his pockets. She shrugs a shoulder, “Mom wants me to stay a couple weeks. Might not.”

Darius eyes her for a few seconds, “'Cause your pops?”

“Yeah.” It’s nothing new - her dad wasn’t her favorite person in the world. She places her bag on the end of the couch, glancing towards a particularly photo on the wall - it’s of Darius, maybe around seven or eight, standing over a birthday cake, his mother looks younger in the photo. Younger, but still very tired, “You...doing okay?”

Their eyes meet, Darius stares at her. Then snorts some, thumbs at the corner of his mouth, “You ain’t--” A pause, “You ain’t gotta ask me that.” She remains silent, licks at her lips, “You ain’t gotta treat me like - y’know.”

“I know,” She tells him, her voice has quieted, “Sorry I haven’t been around.”

“It’s cool. Y’busy, Masika,” he moves past her, and she turns around to follow his every movement. He sits onto the couch, putting a notebook on the end table beside him.

“What if I say I’m not too busy for you?” She’s teasing, coming to his right to sit next to him. The couch dips slightly under her weight - the springs are so old.

He looks at her again, amused, “Yeah, you funny. Got jokes.”

She gets comfortable beside him, leaning the side of her head into her palm, “Mrs. G was talkin’ about you today.”

“Yeah, I be goin’ over there to help with her yard. She always outside. Her daughter was there the other day--”

“Diamond?”

He nods, “Talking about moving her into a home.”

Masika frowns, leans forward slightly, “Really?”

“Yeah, sucks.” He’s quiet for a moment, “You gone by Andre’s?”

Masika almost rolls her eyes, “Why? Has he done something?”

“Messin’ around with Lexi, from down the street.”

“Alexis Mitchell? The one with--”

“Yeah, yeah, her. Sayin’ she pregnant and shit. Andre been duckin’ and dodgin’ at different people’s house. Watch out for him.” Darius looks as if he’s about to laugh, the white of his teeth is stark against his skin.

“First of all, she’s tripping. You know how many times Lex has said she’s pregnant? Please. Why is Andre even with her? Wasn’t his friend with her a few months ago?”

“Jared? Yeah. I don’t get mixed up in all of it. Andre stay wilding out, man.” They talk for a little while longer, darting from subject to subject, no limits to what could and couldn’t be spoken over. Masika crosses her legs underneath her, leaning closer to try and grab the notebook on the other side of him. He catches her upper body before she can, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her sternum, “No touchin’.”

“I won’t touch it if you show me,” Masika tells him, feigning innocence when he gives her a look, “C’moooooon, you’ve had that for years. Lemme see!”

“You nosy,” he says, but he doesn’t seem annoyed by it, “Personal shit in there.”

“Mhmmm,” she manages to get a hold of it, twists her body away when he tries to half-hearted snatch it from her grip. Masika opens the notebook - the pages are frayed at the ends, old and worn, some had dog-ear bookmark on the corners, some words crossed out and replaced, entire pages filled with scribbled writing over and over again. She has to keep leaning away from Darius, he tries to round her side and take it from her again, but she’s quicker.

It takes a few minutes, she manages to skim through the majority of it. Some words stand out, she’s whispering quietly to herself as she reads.

“Darius...this is--”

“It ain’t nothin’--”

“--so good!” She turns to him in one energetic movement, he has to move back to avoid getting hit with her hair, “You wrote all these, right? Are they songs--” She inhales sharply, “Poems? Oh, my god, why didn’t you ever show me this?”

“Ain’t a big deal, come on,” he tries to take it again, she holds it away quickly. He shifts underneath her look, almost looks nervous, “It’s not like - it’s worth showin’ or some shit.”

“That’s what you think?” She stares up at him, brown eyes bright, “It’s worth seeing. And more than that, you should publish stuff like this.”

He smiles some, turns his face away so she can’t see it fully, “Stop messin’ around. Niggas don’t do shit like that.”

“They don’t do shit like that because they don’t use their heads, Darius. You do. Take advantage,” He still looks unsure, hands are back in his pockets, he’s not trying to take it from her anymore, “I don’t blame you for writing, you know. With everything that’s happened, makes things more easier.”

He looks towards her again, and she stands from the couch, right in front of him, holding out the notebook to him. Darius takes it, pressing his lips together briefly, keeps his head ducked but meets her eyes.

“When I started writing, my dad kept throwing out all my notebooks. Even if I hid them,” she says quietly, “and whenever I went out and bought more, he’d take out his belt and yell. Said singing should only be in the church...Point is, I didn’t need him to believe in me or nothin’. I did it myself.”

Darius smiles again, looks a bit bashful and amused, “Yeah? Y’takin’ public speaking at that school too?”

“What would you know about public speaking?”

“Know it’s a class.”

She watches him, seems to be thinking for a few seconds before she suddenly lights up, “Come to my Spoken Word show tomorrow night. It’s for the November Poetry Slam. Downtown.”

He’s almost immediate with his response, “What time? I’ll come--”

“And perform?”

“Masika--”

“Please, please, pleeeeeease, it’ll be so much fun, Darius! You’ll love it!”

He shakes his head while she speaks, “Not my thing. I wanna watch you though, you fly with it.”

“Pleeeease, c’mon. You can’t say no. You can’t say no or I’ll get mad--”

“Mad?”

“Yeah!” He’s trying to hold her away when she pulls teasingly on one of his braids, gripping her thin wrists in his hands, and she’s smiling, stumbling towards him clumsily, almost bumping chests. The difference in height is apparent, she has to tilt her head up to look at him, and he’s smiling too - face close to hers. Her smile falls once she notices the proximity, “Yeah...I’ll get...mad...”

Her words are trailed off, really quiet.

He’s staring at her, the smile has fallen, “...missed havin’ you around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” A pause, “Weird - I mean, you not bein’ here. It’s weird.”

“Sorry.”

“You ain’t gotta apologize, Masi--”

The door opens, sound of boots hitting the floor, Andre stops when he sees them, eyebrows high on his head. It takes a moment, but Masika gets the look - jerking backwards when she notices how close she is to Darius. Darius, on the other hand, looks annoyed, jams his hands into his jean pockets.

“Y’don’t know how to knock, nigga? Y’hands broke?”

“Nah,” Andre is grinning, making his way over to him, “You know what kinda neighborhood this is, don’t leave y’door unlocked.” And then his eyes are back on her, “What’s up, ‘Sika? When you get back?”

“This mornin’,” She crosses her arms over her chest, fixing him with a look, “And I heard about Lexi.”

Immediately, his smile is gone, he throws an accusatory glance at Darius, “Why you goin’ and telling everybody for?”

“It ain’t everybody. It’s Masika,” Darius sits back onto the couch, leaning back, placing his notebook back where it belongs.

“Man, that hoe ain’t shit. She been chasin’ me around, saying she pregnant for weeks now. Ain’t no baby, ain’t no stomach,” Andre argues, annoyed.

“Some women don’t start showing until at least three to five months,” Masika tells him offhandedly, “Why’re you even messing with her like that? I thought you and Drea were working it out.”

“Fuck her, too. She’s crazy - callin’ my mama’s house and hanging up all the time. She’s bugging.” Then he shrugs, “Females be all over me once they get a taste, you already know--”

“Man, shut y’corny ass up.” Darius says from the couch.

“Fuck you,” He flips him off, “Just mad ‘cause you ain’t pullin’ any. Ain’t like Miss Christian College over here offerin’ anything.” He gestures towards Masika lazily.

Before she can say anything, Darius lobs a couch pillow at him, hitting Andre square in the head, “Fuck you. Don’t talk ‘bout her like that.” It reminds her of when they were kids - Darius more of the leader in their group, Andre always joking around and playing subtle pranks until he got in trouble, Masika following both of them blindly ( the youngest of the group ).

“Alright, alright. Chill, damn,” Andre catches the pillow, grumbling under his breath. He looks towards Masika again, “You kickin’ it tonight?”

“No, gotta head home soon. Eat dinner.”

“You talkin’ to your dad?” Andre asks, curious.

“No,” Masika and Darius answer at the same time, she continues speaking, “But I can’t keep avoiding him.” As she talks, she grabs her bag from the couch, glancing at Darius, “Tomorrow night, eight.”

“Yeah, I got it, I’ll be there.”

“And you will perform--”

“Nah.”

“Darius.”

“Masika.” He uses the same tone as her, grinning briefly when she shoots him an irritated look, “I’ll be there. I ain’t seen you sing in awhile.”

She blows out air, rolls her eyes, “Fine. Bring your notebook.” Masika moves past Andre, he’s curiously watching their exchange, he follows after her, watching as she slips on her shoes, “What?”

“Spot me a twenty.”

“What - no. Ask Darius to give you some cash.”

“I already said no,” Darius says from the front room, Andre glares back in his direction, “Man, take y’begging ass home.”

“And take care of Alexis, if word gets to your mom, you’re going to be in trouble.” Masika says to him, narrowing her eyes at his surprised look, “I’ll tell her myself.”

“Don’t! Don’t, okay? I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” She leans around him, calling out briefly, “Darius, see you tomorrow.” She hears his reply, muffled - he probably went to the kitchen or bathroom, and she leaves Andre there in the doorway.

Masika rolls over in bed when she hears steps heading in the direction of her room, pulls the covers up to nearly cover her head. Like she expects, the door opens - she can see the familiar shadow cast across the length of the wall.

“...Masika?”

It’s her father’s voice. She hadn’t gotten the chance to see him, purposely roamed outside just so she wouldn’t make it back in time for dinner. Everyone was already in bed by time she’d arrived.

“Are you awake?”

She curls up tighter, forcibly closes her eyes. It’s silence for a few seconds. And then the door closes. Masika listens as his steps get further and further away.

“Waiting for someone?”

Masika looks up at the voice, spots Craig standing there, pulling out his earphones when he gets close enough to her. She gives a half-hearted smile, toys with the cross-necklace around her neck, “Uh, yeah. I am.”

“A...guy, maybe?” He shifts closer, settles along the wall.

Masika continues to look at the door, more people file in - but not who she was looking for, “Yeah. Best friend.”

“Best friend? The one you talked about before.”

“Yeah.”

“Darius, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure he’s comin’?”

She looks up at this, away from the door. Frowning lightly up at him, she says, “Yes. He is. He always comes.” Craig backs off slightly at her tone, both of them only looking up when Masika hears a call of her name, “Frankie, you made it.”

“Of course I did, girl,” She hugs Masika, lightly bumping Craig out of the way in the process. In her ear, she whispers, “Is he bothering you again?”

“Nope,” Masika’s voice is just as quiet as hers, only raising in volume when Frankie pulls away, “You auditioning for a nineties movie?” She tilts her head, motioning to Frankie’s long braids.

“Look, not everyone can have curly white girl hair like you,” Frankie tells her, “Plus, work been killin’ my ass.”

“I’ll get my mom to do your hair.”

“With her heavy hand? Hell no, girl.”

Craig leans over in their conversation more, “’Sika, you gotta be up in a second. Think they’re about to close the doors.”

She blinks, looks up, “Wait. No. Do not close the doors yet. Fifteen more minutes.” Craig looks incredulous, but he doesn’t have time to argue with her, she’s already pulling Frankie towards the stage with her - fluffing out her own hair and fixing her shirt, “Darius isn’t here yet.”

“Which one? The Jordan’s? Jesus, how many kids she got?” Frankie mumbles, helping Masika with her hair, “Too many.”

“Four boys,” Masika proclaims, “I don’t think there’s such a thing as too many.”

“Yeah, says the girl that wants like fifty kids. You gonna live in a shoe, bitch? Psh, puh-lease,” She finishes quickly, glances at the curtains, and then back to Masika. The crowd has already formed - Masika can smell the smoke, the coffee, leather from the old seats, soft music playing, “Ready?”

“Make sure they don’t close the doors, okay?” Masika begs, “Not yet.”

“Masika, you know they close ‘em at nine.”

“Please. Pretty please, Francesca.”

Frankie makes a face, “Never say my full name again and we got a deal.”

“Thanks a bunch,” Masika kisses her cheek before she gets on stage, before people get too bored with Craig’s long list of dad jokes he seems to have ( even though he’s twenty one and doesn’t have any kids ). Even in the short amount of time she has back in her home town, she still managed to get booked for the opening act for the show.

Her mother could not make it. Sam wasn’t interested. Kurt was out of the country. Elijah was working. Her father - well, everyone knows how that conversation would’ve went. But even so - she still sings to her heart’s content, there isn’t much that can stop her. She’d learned that a long time ago.

Most of the time, when she does sing, her eyes are closed. Towards the bridge of the song, she opens them - and she finds Darius there, towards the back of the club, along the wall and away from the crowd. He makes this half-shrug at her as a hello.

Masika smiles through the rest of her song.

“You. Were. Late.”

She punctuates every one of her words with pokes to his arm. Darius grins, facing her. The club is relatively empty by now, besides Craig speaking to the supervisor. Frankie had left earlier - right in the middle of the poetry portion of the show. She’d mostly come to hear Masika sing and for support, so she wasn’t bothered by it.

“Yeah. Got held up at work. My bad.”

“I’m kidding,” Masika breathes, “It’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you came. You know how weird it is performing on campus and you’re not there? It’s like I’m missing something.”

“You did good,” He pauses, looks down at the table they’re occupying, “...missed hearin’ you sing.”

A smile blooms across her face slowly, “Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course. It’s like what you said - somethin’ missing, you know?” She does know. Watches him, one elbow on the table, hand balancing her head. When he notices her staring, he looks at her again, “Wha’cha lookin’ at?”

“You. Waiting.”

“For?”

She nudges her head towards the empty stage, giving a smile when he immediately begin to shake his head, “Please, Darius. I would die happy.”

“Why you pressin’ me about this?”

“‘Cause you’re good. So good. And I know that from just lookin’ through your notebook for two seconds,” When he makes a light scoffing noise, she leans closer, “Just - try it. I promise it’ll feel much better coming out. It’s one thing to write it; another thing to say it out loud.”

“That’s why I write it. So I don’t gotta say it.”

“Darius,” She’s staring at him again, expression soft and open, “...for me?” Darius visibly hesitates, picks at the napkin in front of him; steadily tearing it into little pieces throughout the conversation. He looks around - as if he’s looking for anyone he knows, anyone that might say something to him or stare for too long.

It takes awhile. Maybe six minutes of coaxing, he doesn’t go to the stage, but it’s a step in the right direction. He clears his throat, picks at the napkin scraps more, “Can it be somethin’ - old or whatever? Wrote it a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” she nods fast, continuing to watch him, “Whatever you want.”

He looks at her again, as if searching for something, so she reaches over and touches the back of his hand with her fingers, soon clasping their hands together. It’s a slow process, he can’t really look at her - she can tell - and he stares at the wall across the room, then drops his eyes to their hands.

Inhales. And finally, his mouth opens.

#masika #writings

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