#someone text me tomorrow at like noon to make sure I haven’t disappeared into the woods to become a tree spirit lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktheist · 5 years ago

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nice guys finish last | m

synopsis. you thought you were over yoongi’s dick move of ending your engagement through his parents - not even a text when he disappeared out of your life. that’s why you agreed to the newly arranged marriage with his brother, namjoon, but on the brink of your wedding day, it becomes apparent that you haven’t really let go of the past as you tear up in front of your soon-to-be husband at the back room of the church.

◟alternatively, “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

pairings. husband!ceo!namjoon x doctor!reader x ex-fiance!producer!yoongi

genre. arraged marriage au. angst. fluff. smut.

word. 16.2k

content: age gap factor (namjoon is 5 years older than oc and yoongi is 7 years older than oc). pining. teasing. hoseok cockblocking.

warning(s): heavy adult content. mentions of cheating. hospital scenes.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

“i don’t want to marry you at all. the person i love is someone else.” there are tears brimming in your eyes but if there’s anything the years of etiquette class namjoon’s parents forced on him taught him - he’d say he turned out okay - it’s to not mention to the crying lady that she’s crying. but he can’t help stare a little longer. admire a little too much.

the rays flooding through the window paired with the prettiest ivory dress he’s seen you in gives you an iridescent halo. you look like an angel descended from the top most heavens.

but not for him.

“i know,” he lets out a drawn out sigh, hand on his neck. he’s always been the awkward one between the two. if it was him - if it was his brother, he would say it without any ounce of self-reproach. but then again what does namjoon have to be sorry for? for being born? for being the second choice son to step into his brother’s shoes when the aforementioned man threatened to disown the family name if their parents refused to let him marry a girl of his choice who, according to the workers’ gossip, ‘he suddenly woke up one day and decided he was in love with’?

“it’s yoongi, isn’t it? you love yoongi.”

your eyes are prettier when you’re looking directly at him. the tears give them a kind of glow that makes him want to gather you into his arms and keep you there. the flushed cheeks affirms - despite saying it with full confidence, it was just - his hunch.

oh.

the ceremony proceeds rather smoothly. you’re still sniffling when your father passes your hand to him at the end of the aisle. the older man himself looks distraught. either he knows you’re against this marriage and hates himself for failing to put his daughter’s happiness before the guaranteed wealth that comes from marrying you off to the kim family or you’d gotten into a fight with him in a last ditch attempt to convince him to call off the marriage.

either way, you’re here now. the pastor’s words are muddled in your ears but it’s enough to take note of the end tone and the steely silence that ensues which could only mean it’s your turn to say those words.

“i do.” they’re the easiest to get over with.

after endless fights with your parents, going on two hunger strikes and running away to paris for a year - you know you’re in the endgame. and you’ve painstakingly and sorely lost.

he lifts the veil off your face, taking his time with setting it over your head. it’s no secret that kim namjoon is handsome. the kind of thick, textured-fabric-suit-wearing and sleek-back hair kind of handsome. yoongi was more of the hoodie-and-jeans and messy-in-need-of-a-trim hair kind of handsome. but he isn’t yoongi.

you screw your eyes shut, refusing to let the memories of your own wedding vows embed in your head. those beautiful pink full lips are as soft as they look. but they’re not kissing you on your pressed-into-a-straight-line lips. betrayed by your curiosity, your eyes flutter open only to gaze upon the smooth cream skin that wraps around his neck and just the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple as he pulls way.

your newly-wed husband has just kissed you on the forehead.

adjusting to married life is as easy as slipping on your favorite shoes. it’s perfect. almost unsettling even. the beach house off the coast of the private island namjoon’s family owns is breathtaking. the sound of waves crashing against the shores is your constant companion as you work on your research. it’s a project you had to put aside when you graduated. the first year at the hospital is the busiest, or so your senior colleagues say.

namjoon strides into the kitchen sometime past noon, all fresh and showered with a fitting long sleeved shirt and trousers. it’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen and yet for some people you know, it’s the fanciest they can get. sometimes you wonder if the standards have hit the ground or if namjoon’s so well-adapted into the routine of dressing up presentable enough to go to his office on an off day in case something calls for it.

“good morning.” you greet first, traces of the embarrassing tear-jerking wedding ceremony still lingers in the back of your mind - you’d tried to explain yourself on the way here in the boat but namjoon had easily blew your worries away with a light chuckle and a “i’d do the same too if i loved someone and had to marry another person.”

it’s not unusual for you to already be perched on the elegant gold sofa adjacent to the sliding doors that has the best view of the sea. the master bedroom is the other part of the beach house with spectacular view - you’d been entranced when you stepped into the room on your first day. but namjoon suggested you stay in the guest room, knowing there’s no way you would share a bed with him -

“or you can take this room and i take the guest room,” he added a moment later, probably because he saw you staring out the balcony, bewitched by the sea. that had broke you from your trance and you’d shook your head so much in protest, you were surprised it didn’t fall right off your neck. “n-no! i mean - i’ll take the guestroom.”

his parents had been nice enough to lend their private beach house for you honeymoon. you weren’t going to step over their son and conquer the master bedroom - even if technically, you’re now part of the family.

“morning.” he fixes you with that half-smile. the kind of smile you give to someone you’re in an complacent relationship with but nothing more.

at least you’ve got that going for you. and that’s a rarity coming from the gossips you’ve heard here and there about marriages found on the ground of convenience.

his eyes swipe over the ipad in your shorts-donned lap from his spot, leaned against the counter in the kitchen, pitch black mug of coffee with wafts of smoke coming out of it, “how’s your research going?”

“well,” you set the ipad down on the glass surface of the coffee table, it’s bare of anything besides your phone that’s been lighting up from the notifications. one from your mother, another from the group of friends you found in college, and the rest is from your strictly-women group from the hospital, “the world wide web is resourceful and all but it can’t beat the information in actual books - papers, you know?”

“ah, the traditional way of researching.” he chuckles, dimples digging into his cheek, enhancing his handsome features. you never knew he had dimples. not that you knew much about him - you’d only properly talked on the day of your wedding, in the back room and the first thing you said was -

you suppress the memories further down your thoughts. it works for the most part, but you can’t help the flush that spreads across your face. so the laugh you let out is a little strained and if he notices, he doesn’t show - like he pretends not to notice a plenty many things.

but alas, he knew your secret crush - was it still just a crush you had for yoongi? you’re not sure.

“what can i say? i’m raised traditional.”

that was two weeks ago. now, you’re back to working your ass off at the hospital, being grilled to the bones by your supervisor, getting reprimanded over being one minute late and then being told to run to the cafe five minutes from the hospital to buy your supervisors their favorite strawberry smoothie topped with sprinkles.

“kim seokjin, that dickwad.” jennie huffs, her cat-like eyes making it appear as though she’s plotting the man’s death. “he’s working you to the bones as soon as you get back.”

“he probably thinks i’m not that serious about my residency since my family has enough fortune to sustain me for my whole lifetime,” you can only laugh at that, her anger has sucked all the tiredness and annoyance you have for your supervisor right out of you. it feels refreshing, “all the more reason to prove him wrong.”

“enough about that asshole,” jisoo waves a dismissive hand off and you know what’s coming is far more terrifying: she blinks, eyes filled with stars and cherry red lips curling into the kind of smile that can only mean one thing, “how was it? the second son of kimcorp. were there rose petals on bed? candles lit around the house? a romantic, sizzling-”

“sorry, jisoo, i gotta go get ready for the dinner. i’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, okay?” you clasp your hands together apologetically when your phone buzzes with the reminder you set a week prior: 8am annual kimcorp dinner.

you breathe a sigh of relief as you shake off your white coat, draping it over your recliner before escaping to the washroom with a bag of makeup and the dust-proof cover bag of the outfit you’re wearing for tonight. by the time you’re touching up on your nude lipstick, your phone buzzes again but this time, the screen lights up with namjoon’s name on it.

“hey,” his voice is deeper through the phone - it’s the first time he calls you. there was never any reason for you to call each other but you suppose, he’s calling to make sure you’re not forgetting the dinner -

“i’m in front of the hospital.”

or maybe not.

“wh-what do you mean?” your cheeks heat up from the thought of namjoon waiting for you in his audi. the image, too domestic for your liking.

“well, you can’t drive so i thought i’d pick you up.” he says it like its the simplest equation to understand.

“namjoon,” the name feels foreign on your tongue regardless of how many times you taste it when you need to tell him something - to set the line straight, “i didn’t know you were gonna pick me up so i already told kyungsoo to pick me up. he’s probably already here. sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.”

“i know,” he says simply.

“e-excuse me?” while you’re beyond confused.

“i told your parents i’d pick you up so kyungsoo’s driving them to the dinner.”

“oh.”

wait. what?!

namjoon is confident in his driving skills - as he is with everything he does. he’s almost perfect. the line of his shoulders seem at ease as he stirs the wheel with one hand and the other rests on the gear, inches away from your scarlet clad thighs.

“why isn’t hoseok driving you?” the aforementioned man sticks to him like glue. everywhere namjoon goes, he goes. it’s a given since he’s the head secretary but anyone who’s seen them interact could tell there’s more than boss-employee relationship between them. they seem like close friends which is unlikely be given namjoon’s too-serious nature and hoseok’s joke-cracking every five minutes - but not impossible.

his face remains the same as he keeps his eyes on the road, humming briefly, “he had a thing.”

“can secretaries have a thing and leave their boss to drive for himself like that?” that doesn’t sound right. you may not be actively involved in fecam industries’ affairs but mr. jung, your dad’s secretary, spends more time with your dad than the two men do with their wives - that’s how demanding the business world is. but could hoseok get a free pass because of his and namjoon’s friendship?

namjoon chuckles, dimples and all and you can’t help but blush at the side profile. if anything, he has a sharp jawline and beautiful neck-

you push the thought as soon as it comes. neck? who finds necks beautiful?

“he had a date but it’s not until a couple hours,” the tone he uses is light and playful but underlined with a sort of bashfulness that you don’t know kim namjoon was capable of, “i told him to go home because i wanted to pick you up myself.”

your cheeks heat up all over again as you stare at him a little too long. so much so, the hand that’s been comfortably perched on the gear goes to the back of his neck in an unsure manner.

“i just needed to talk to you about something.” he explains, just as awkward as he was in the back room at the church.

“okay.” eyes turned to the road too, you can see namjoon breathing a sigh of relief from your periphery. that couldn’t have been because of you could it? was he nervous because you were watching him? “what did you want to talk about?”

he clears his throat, that natural ease in his tone returning, “if it gets uncomfortable - if anyone asks, we met because you were yoongi’s fiancee and we couldn’t help but fall in love. but you wanted to intern at a hospital in paris so that’s why we’ve only gotten married now.”

you take awhile to digest the information until something in your stomach doesn’t sit right with you, “you want me to... lie?”

his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth just for the briefest moment as he thinks about it. he probably didn’t expect you to disagree but he admits his mistake faster than half the people you know your whole life would, “i’m sorry, i didn’t think it would weight on your conscience. i was thought it’d be hard on you if some ass- someone’s going to start a rumor about you but i didn’t ask how you’d feel about it.”

“i see.” you simply nod. it’s true that you’re the pass-up fiancee who got between two people who fell in love in college but the other is the son of a renown family and engaged while the other is an arts major from a normal working family. unable to let bygones be bygones, you decide to marry the younger brother to your fiance - or so the story goes. “but they already know i was yoongi’s fiancee and i ended up marrying you. i don’t need - no, i don’t want to explain myself to anyone.”

despite that big talk, your can feel the prickle of tears in your eyes. namjoon steals a glance at you and he never mentions the glassiness of your gaze - if anything, he smiles. it’s different than the usual smiles. this one, though wordless, says he’s following your flow. do what you like and if and when things get though, you can count on me.

dinner has yet started when you arrived. guests are still arriving and waiters and waitresses are carrying trays of champagne glasses around. in a distance, your friends wave at you to come over. you smile, hand falling away from namjoon’s since you needed to at least do that in front of the paparazzo that were waiting outside. eager, hungry for gossip about the wedding that shook south korea’s business world.

“girl, you are glowing.” yerin literally screams. it’s a secret to no one that she’s hinting on your recent marriage and private island getaway. but nothing happened.

“how are you girls? it’s been so long.” you side hug eunha, letting her arms wrap around your waist as you stand huddled together.

you haven’t seen them since you got back from paris. the wedding was attended by thousands of people - all of whom, your and namjoon’s family’s associates. but you had your hands full shaking hands and smiling next to your husband because these people matter to namjoon. or at least he has an interest over them. business deals. merges. trades. kimcorps carries out every kinds of business they can get their hands on. namjoon passingly mentioned about the work-in-progress for a private hospital.

you dread the likelihood of having to leave the hospital you’re working in right now for family-run one but you know it’s quite impossible to not get involved when you, yourself is a doctor.

“we weren’t the ones who went under the radar and came back and got married to the second son of kimcorp.” yuju huffs sulkily, cheeks pinked from the champagne she’s had but she isn’t that far gone when she clamps her mouth shut a second later, eyebrows furrowing in guilt.

sowon nudges her side anyway, mouthing her something as your gaze falls on the light caught in your black gucci heels.

“i-i’m sorry, ___ that didn’t come out right.” comes a heartbeat later, she sounds just as sorry as her words as you offer her a small smile.

“it’s okay, it’s the truth anyway.”

“stop that,” eunha suddenly gripes, her gaze boring into you and rips apart the barrier you’ve tried so hard to maintain, “we’ve been friends since elementary school, we know how whipped you are for that asshole so-” she sniffles while you’re left wondering if it’s her who had an ex-fiance break if off and had his parents relay the news on a bi-weekly dinner.

“she’s trying to say you can cry or get mad or curse that dipshit around us. don’t hold back.” sowon finishes, lips twitching as she enjoys watching the vulnerable state of the otherwise fiercest one among you.

something in your chest feels light. like a weight being lifted off your shoulders as you study the girl’s face one by one. sowon’s and yerin’s smirk, yuju’s nodding and eunha’s teary eyes.

“yoongi, he’s-” you take a deep breath and it feels almost dramatic as the second stretches on while you build up the hurt, the anxiousness, the disbelief that the man put you through, “-a fucking idiot.”

“you bet he is,” yerin’s basically screams, swiping a glass for you and holding hers up, “that fucking idiot.”

you tighten your side hug on eunha in an ‘i’m okay’ gesture as you clink your glasses together.

it’s a few moments later that murmurs start to spread around. the tension that comes with the latest arrived guest thick enough to command every attention in the room.

“she’s ballsy. coming here.” sowon offhandedly comments, eyes trained on the girl who has her hand on yoongi’s arm like an iron clamp. “right into the lion’s den.”

she may not have her parents’ money to groom her into the women you and the girls are. but maybe that’s why she has her own air. her poised steps, coupled with a cocktail creme laced dress and relaxed smile easily gives her an innocent cloak. someone friendly and good-tempered and can adjust well to her suddenly-plunged-into-money circumstance when she married yoongi. that must have been why you never heard any bad rumors about her even though there’s almost always at least one gossip enthusiast in these socials.

“ugh, i hate her!” yuju hisses, eyes more focused as she places her glass onto one of the waiter’s trays.

“i-i think i’m going to get myself some snacks.” with that, you slip past the guests until you’re at the end of the room, standing in front of the everything-you-can-eat table lined up with pastries only from the best bakes.

that moment, when you looked from her to yoongi, your eyes met. his hair is a little longer than you remember it, flowing in light blue tresses until just a few centimeters above his eyebrows. the first two buttons of his shirt is undone. her doesn’t wear a necktie - he despises how suffocating they feel. but he’s managed to keep on his blazer - he used to say they were hot and took them off and left them in the back seat of the car when you arrived at an event. he used to attend these events with you. just the two of you. for four years. you thought you’d keep doing so for longer after you got married.

“you know, they’re not plastic and made for display.” a voice breaks you from your train of thoughts.

“p-pardon?” you blink once. confused.

“the pastries,” namjoon lulls his head to the side where towers of tarts, macaroons, pavlova and sliced cakes stand tall and proud, “they’re edible.”

it takes a moment for you to register that he was joking - kim namjoon? cracking jokes?

his smile tilts higher when you chuckle. it’s brief but the look of relief oh his face lingers. he must have seen you escape from your group of friends. and this is his own way of checking up on you.

“thank you, namjoon.” you murmur low enough for only you and him to hear, lips tugging in the corners. “but i’m fine - i just - seeing him for the first time like this - it’s just unexpected. even though this is an annual dinner held by his family and he has every right to be here.”

“that’s her? the ex-fiancee?” a guest asks in a hushed tone somewhere a few feet away. but she’s not very discreet as she thinks she is.

“yeah, she couldn’t get the older brother so she went for the younger one.”

apparently, her company needs to attend classes on how-to-whisper-101 too.

“how mortifying. and the brother just goes with it?”

“he must have felt compelled to save her face. you know how nice and well-mannered he is-”

the low noise namjoon makes under his breath catches your attention. the muscles on his face is strained and twisted. it barely shows. just a crease between his eyebrows and the lack of smile. he hardly ever smiles from the tabloids and interviews you’ve seen of him so people might not notice the displeasure. but after a whole month of knowing namjoon, if there’s anything you can say for certain about the man, it’s the stockpile of smiles he has to offer.

“namjoon, it’s okay. i don’t care.” you smile, it’s forced and you know he notices it right off the bat but sighs anyway, shoulder line falling just slightly as he runs a hand over his sleek styled hair.

his lips move and you hear the words he uttered but somehow your mind couldn’t comprehend the information without going blank. “s-sorry?”

“it agitates me that they’re freely spewing bullshit like this,” he huffs, cheeks tinted pink at having to repeat his words. “it’s taking everything in me not to go over there and tell them their husbands have at least one business deal with kimcorp. and i can end it and it’d plunge their family into bankruptcy.”

“wh-why would you do such a thing?” the question comes out almost dumbly but if it did, he doesn’t say. he just... keeps looking at you.

you’re barely able hold yourself from squirming under his scrutiny, the smile now awkward in all places.

“if you don’t mind, can i kiss you?” his eyes widen just the slightest bit as he corrects himself, “on the forehead i mean.”

he clears his throat, eyes straying away from you as if he couldn’t bear to look at your face after that mistake. “just so i can prove to them i wasn’t forced to marry you.”

the light pinkish blush spreads to the tip of his ears and neck as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. you’re not sure why, but the sight in front of you is endearing and you find yourself saying-

“okay, kiss me.”

you didn’t specify where. and maybe, as the heat flares across your own cheeks when his arm band around your waist and a warm hand presses up against you cheekbone - maybe you want him to kiss you somewhere else.

the chatter stops and so does time. but it’s only for as long as namjoon’s full lips are on your forehead, kissing you for the second time. then, time resumes and murmurs begin to spread louder than when yoongi made his arrival. when the gravelly voice speaks from somewhere behind namjoon, you know why.

“get a room, will you?” yoongi’s tone is light - you’d taken a whole year getting used to it to know he’s being playful and not condescending.

“yoongi.” namjoon greets, unlike the elder man, his sounds better natured but there’s a sort of underlying detachment. his arm is still on your lower back almost as if he needs to feel that you’re here or he’d be completely detached. “i didn’t think you’d show up. you hate these events.”

the aforementioned man draws out a long sigh as though he’s been found out over a poorly told lie. “i don’t but naeun wanted to go - you know how things are with mom and dad. she thinks it’s gonna make them open up.”

it’s no secret your father and mother-in-law doesn’t talk about yoongi’s marriage - they never do around you but you thought they were being considerate. but what yoongi’s saying right now could mean his relationship with his parents are far more strained than you thought it’d be. especially since they had let him marry the girl of his dreams who’s clearly below their standards.

she - naeun - is standing somewhere near the exit, conversing with the notorious older generation that yerin duped ‘the wickeds’. for their ways of gaining wealth, for their poor treatment towards their employees, for socially shunning a young man - new money, for addressing one of them casually. she is ballsy.

“it’s been awhile,” yoongi’s directly addressing you now. the tug on his lips as playful as an old friend’s greeting. you don’t know how he can look at you like nothing happened. “you’re finally a resident now, huh?”

“yeah, finally.” you smile, the kind of smile that celebrates her triumph. the celebration part is true but the smile is every bit unnatural. but it seems to fool yoongi as he nods, proud.

somewhere in your chest, the strings on your heart clenches at the unchanging personality of this man. no wonder you like him.

before the conversation can tread further down memory lane, there’s an announcement to have the guests move to another room where dinner is being served.

“we’ll get going first then.” namjoon announces, guiding you by the waist as yoongi nods, waiting for naeun to come to his side before going in himself.

dinner went smoother than expected. yoongi and naeun showed up uninvited and were placed in the back seats where the people socially displaced guests are. you felt bad when you saw naeun’s distorted expression as waiters bring in chairs to the table for the both of them. but there’s nothing you could have done.

“you have an 8am shift tomorrow, right?” namjoon asks as you slip your heels off, wincing at when one of them brushes against the blisters. they’re gonna be a bitch to deal with tomorrow.

stretching your arms out as you walk up the stairs, you hum in confirmation. “mhm, and you have dinner with ms. yoo, right?”

it’s ironic how you know each other’s schedule despite not being anything more than two people sharing one house and happens to be married. guess you’ll chalk it up with the fact that you both respect each other enough to be aware of each other’s whereabouts - not the creepy kind of way but the share-me-your-live-location-so-i-know-you’re-safe kind of way.

namjoon was quiet until you take a left to where the guest bedroom-turned-permanent-bedroom is, “it got rescheduled.”

your hand hovers over the door handle as you crane your neck to look at the man on the top of the stairs. his bow tie is loosened, the button to his color undone and his blazer is draped over one arm - a telltale sign of a final end to the night. “i was hoping we could have dinner to together. after work.”

yes but you don’t usually go straight home after work. you usually spend time at the library either at your previous college or at the hospital. you’ve decided to continue your research no matter how taxing it may be since you came back from the honeymoon. namjoon knows and the fact he asks you to dinner anyway - it’s unlike him.

he’s the kind of person that would ask if you had free time and match his schedule to yours. not ask for your time.

“yeah, sure.” you say and you think you see his shoulder line sagging as if he’s just let out a long-held breath, “pick me up at 8?”

“yeah.” he nods, dimples showing as his lips curl at your answer, “at 8.”

only when the door closes behind you, do you let yourself slide down to the ground. heels lying next to your thighs and dress in need of being sent for washing. your cheeks are and neck and ears are hot. dinner? just you and namjoon? like... a date?

jisoo isn’t around when lunch rolls by.

“a patient got rolled into er this morning - couldn’t contact any of his family members. suho decided to go ahead with surgery but he reacted badly to the anesthesia so she had to make up for her suho’s mistake and monitor his patient.” jennie’s face scrunches at the other woman’s supervisor pushing the task on her. shoving a forkful of the cheese cake, she sighs as the medical professional side take over, “thank god the surgery went smoothly though despite all that.”

you hum in contemplation, comparing the well-established crazy bitch seokjin who pushes those under his supervision to their limits and suho’s less-than-extreme approach. you used to envy jisoo and jennie for getting suho as their supervisor but at the end of the day, with every push from seokjin, you get out of it stronger and wiser. “i hope she doesn’t forget to have her meals.”

the day ends faster than usual. of course with rounds and surgeries you have to assist with, you’ve always find yourself barely realizing the setting sun - the sign of that your shift has ended.

but you could have sworn it was 5pm when you last checked the time. an car crash patient had arrived at the er and you forgot you’d left your phone on your desk, running out to assist the critical patient. it’s only when you’ve plopped into your recliner, head thrown back in fatigue, do you notice the vibration of your phone.

namjoon’s name flashes across your screen. your eyes almost bulges out of their sockets as you swipe to the right.

the deep voice from the other end is as calm as ever, “hey, ___-”

“namjoon!” you almost scream with guilt, phone pressed between your cheek and your shoulder as you shrug the coat off one shoulder before using the free now free hand to hold the phone and shrug off the other shoulder, “where are you?”

“i’m at the parking lot. i couldn’t wait at the lobby because i was obstructing the other cars - i called you a few times.” he sounds almost concerned and your heart clenches tightly in you chest at the thought of him waiting for you for over an hour.

you burst onto the parking lot - searching for the sleek black audi until a red bugatti rolls over. you’re about to take a step back seeing as you’re almost standing in the middle of the road - when the driver on the other side of the car steps out. his usually gelled hair is mussed from the amount of times he ran his hand over it, cuffs rolled to just below his elbow, revealing the dark veins that run just below the skin on his arm.

namjoon fixes you with that eased smile, going around the gently purring vehicle and opening the door to the passenger seat for you. the arm which hand he uses to hold the door open pulls on the thin fabric of his button down in all the right places. so this is a the normal end-of-the-day look.

you always get back a bit later than him and by the time he looks up from his work that’s laid out over the coffee table, he would usually already have bathed and changed into one of those long-sleeved shirts.

the restaurant he initially booked for dinner had cancelled. naturally. so you end up in a barbecue place five minutes away from the hospital. this is where you and your colleagues go when to celebrate a birthday, promotion or finally-having-a-boyfriend/girlfriend.

the slices of meat sizzles on the grill, its marinated aroma wafting in the air. but your stomach churns with a different kind of sensation - guilt. “i-i’m sorry. because of me you had to wait an hour and got cancelled by the restaurant.”

then, he chuckles. it’s the same kind of good natured chuckle that reverberates every time you say something amusing - but you can’t see how any of this is.

his says your name. the syllabus rolls out of his tongue in waves but you chalk up the blush spreading on your face with the heat of the grill so close to you. he leans back against the backrest, sleeves filled out to the brim as he crosses his arms over his chest. “you were the one saving a life. all i did was wait.”

“y-yeah but still.” no emergency is foreseeable, otherwise you could have saved more lives than you do now. and it’s still not enough. “i forgot about you.”

namjoon nods, taking your words into consideration - as if he never thought about it that way. as if he truly doesn’t mind wasting his time over some woman he has to tolerate because he’s married to her. “cook me dinner then.”

“wh-what?”

“i don’t want you to beat yourself up and i know whatever i say is going to come off as me being nice.” the corners in his lips tugs upwards, “so make it to me by cooking dinner.”

once your brain is done registering what he said, you clutch your hands in your lap as though you’re clinging onto this one time chance to make up for your fault, “yes! i-i mean yeah, sounds fair.”

the smooth sound of his chuckle isn’t lost to the sizzle of the meat. to him, it must be a small matter but to you, it’s a matter of pride.

“this saturday then?” you offer, a bit too eager.

almost as if remembering something, he releases a long drawn out sigh, “business trip to tokyo.”

“next weekend?”

“mom’s home sweeter home fundraiser for the orphans on saturday. sunday?”

“night shift. how bout breakfast?”

“golf with seollyu’s director.”

a heavy pause lapses in the room. after a moment, namjoon reaches for the chopsticks, flipping the slices of meat over.

your shoulders sag, lips pursed in a pout. this isn’t an unusual occurrence in your years of being the daughter of your family. your father is devoutly involved in the family business and your mother is busy with her charity work. you’ve celebrated birthdays with the staff more than you do with them.

the glint of the chopstick that’s placing a piece of meat on your plate catches your eyes. you study the long nimble fingers to the vein that runs from the back of its hand and disappear somewhere below his arm before you gulp, meeting his eyes - did he notice you checking out his arm?

“we’ll figure something out.” if he did, he doesn’t say as he fixes you with an assuring smile, “but right now you need to get some food in you. eat up dr. ___. you did great today at work.”

this time, you really can’t blame the grill for the blush.

“you could’ve told mom you couldn’t do brunch.” namjoon tells you in the elevator to the 15th floor of your in-laws’ house. it’s been three days since that night. he’s left for work but prior to this morning, he’d already made it clear that it was no problem at all picking you up from home.

he’s probably saying this because of the lack of makeup you’d put on. some pats of compact powder and bright red lipstick can’t hide the bags underneath those tired eyes. you’d spend extra hours reading about the defective genes and the fix to remodel them so every child born from parents from a history of relatives with inheritable diseases could live a life without the risk of said disease.

“i’m fine.” you wave a dismissive hand before stretching in the compact space in a last ditch attempt to wake yourself up and hopefully look fresher by the time you reach the floor. “’sides, i’ve been so focused on work, it’s nice to see mom and dad every once in awhile.”

you’ve gotten used to referring to mr. and mrs. kim as if they’re your own parents - in a way, they are. you’ve known them for as long as you can remember.

“you have to be at the hospital by noon, right?”

you hum in confirmation. though you insisted on grabbing a cab to the hospital since it’s on the opposite side of the office, namjoon had insisted better. “mhm, oh we’re here.”

a ding! echoes throughout the elevator when it stops, doors opening to a hallway with black and yellow walls and ceiling, paired with honey marble flooring. it takes a few seconds before the black door at the end of the hallway to swing open but instead of the warm smile of the elderly lady, a bring and vibrant naeun beams at the both of you.

“you’re here. come in.” she steps aside, the hem of her sundress fluttering as she moves.

your body tenses at the proximity of the woman who you thought you could avoid until a much later time. and from the barely noticeable lifted brows that namjoon does, you know he wasn’t expecting his sister-in-law too. if she’s here, so is yoongi.

“we picked these up on the way.” you hand her the paris baguette paper bag. you’d ordered a mix of fruit tarts, cinnamon rolls and macaroon. all of which you remember mrs. kim mentioning to be her favorites.

“oh! you shouldn’t have but thank you.” up close, naeun is much more prettier with a natural pinkish tint across her cheeks that makes her seem dreamy and glossed cheery lips that complements the gentle air she carries around. she passes the bag to one of the staff that’ll probably unbox them and plate them.

you offer her a smile - though a bit strained. and she must have noticed when she sighs softly, eyes darting to her fuchsia flats before looking back up at you with a furrowed brows. but even when she’s frowning, she’s pretty.

“i’ve been wanting to meet you and properly apologize for not being able to attend the wedding - i had an exhibition that day in prague and yoongi wouldn’t let me go by myself even though i thought at least one of us should go to his brother’s wedding.” she chuckles at the last part as if replaying the heartwarming scene of her protective husband choosing his wife over his family. you can feel every fiber of your body coiling and writhing - it takes everything for you not to leave through the door. would yoongi have done the same for you?

“this must be awkward for you, isn’t it?” her lips tug into a half-smile - a telltale that she’s equally uncomfortable to talk about this topic. “with you and yoongi being engaged before but now i’m the one married to him. but i hope we can put everything past us and be a family.”

but something in the way she talks - it’s as if she sympathizes. as if she’s saying it’s okay, you shouldn’t feel ashamed. but what are you supposed to be shameful of? of being engaged to yoongi before? of marrying his brother when said engagement fell through? perhaps you should have gave mrs. kim a hard ‘no’ when she pleaded with teary eyes for you and your parents’ forgiveness when she and mr. kim had to break the news over dinner two years ago. so you wouldn’t have to develop a hard skin and pretend you didn’t care about the ruthless rumors that have spread far and wide after your marriage to namjoon.

“oh? yeah, it was a long time ago.” you offhandedly say - it’s that moment, when her eyes twitches just the slightest bit that you realize it wasn’t all just in your head. she did mean to make you feel embarrassed when she started mentioning the engagement.

you join namjoon and mrs. kim at the garden while naeun follows suit a second later, taking the middle among the three seats. the elder woman’s eyes light up at the sight of you, her heels clacking against the wooden flooring as she crosses the distance and engulfs you in a hug. you hug back, smiling at the woman’s motherly warmth.

“___, my favorite daughter, what happened to you?” she cups your cheeks, brows furrowing as she seem to examine your complexion.

you should’ve used concealer.

“the hospital is working you to the bone isn’t it? why, it’s been awhile since i had lunch with chairman lee, maybe i should give his wife a call.”

that’s how it works when you have connections. if someone’s daughter or son fails to get into college or a job through regular exams or interviews, a dinner or lunch with the director of the institution will get the child admitted overnight. that’s probably why seokjin was harder on you than usual when you got back from your honeymoon - he must think you’re not serious about being a doctor. it’s not a secret he came from old money but he’d cut off all ties with his family when he started working. he has more ethics than half of the people you know.

“___ doesn’t like it when you do these things, mom.” yoongi grumbles - always the painfully honest one. the chair screeches as he pulls it and plops between naeun and namjoon while their father occupies the seat next to mrs. kim. it looks like they just came from mr. kim’s home office. and judging from the stiffness of their posture, the talk must have been a serious one.

namjoon’s shoulder line tightens just the slightest bit - you almost thought it was just a figment of your imagination but when you steal a glance at his face, you know he’s not too keen in having yoongi sit next to him. so you weren’t imagining it when he seemed like he was escaping yoongi by not waiting for naeun to come and walk with you to into the dining hall.

you’re not lost to yoongi’s familiar tone when he spoke on your behalf. but you’re not happy either. forcing a laugh, you push a strand to the back of your ear for the sake of doing something, “i-it’s not the hospital. i’ve been staying up late to work a bit on my research.”

a worker comes with the baked goods you brought. they’re plated on perfectly polished ceramic - you can easily see your forced smile in its reflection when the woman sets them down the table in front of you.

“research?” yoongi lifts one eyebrow at you. too casually. and it takes you back to those times when you used to visit him at his college’s library and you’d bring your homework with you whilst you slip in a few ‘what i did’s as he typed away on his mac but still managed to keep up with you and asked questions here and there. a sign that he’d been present and listening.

“___’s been working on researching how segregate defective genes during the fetal stage so the fetus won’t take on their parents’ inherent diseases when they’re born.” namjoon explains the simplified version almost as though it’s part of his day-to-day line of work. he grins at you, the corners of his lips tugging with pride - a gratification of being able to show you off.

“that’s good. you’re making a difference in this world.” mr. kim is the first to break the silence. and in the years you’ve known him, it means the highest level of flattery you’ll ever get from the man.

your cheeks are flushed red and you know well enough it’s not because of mr. kim’s compliment than it is his son’s. “it’s still just a research draft but th-thank you. mister-” the elder man raises his brow and you quickly correct yourself, “i mean, dad.”

he nods at the word, the slightest hint of smile disappearing under the cup of tea he brings to his mouth.

“but still, don’t push yourself too hard. working as a doctor takes up a lot of time already.” naeun fixes you with a worried gaze but something about her tone makes your stomach churn - it’s as if she’s playing down the time and effort you’d invested in your research and reminding you to focus on your paying job. even if you did downplay yourself when you were responding to mr. kim. before you can sort out the wave of emotions clashing inside you, namjoon seems to beat you to it.

“not everyone can do what ___’s doing. it’s okay if she wants to do more,” a hand slips under yours in your lap, reverting your gaze from the beautiful woman to the apparent difference in the size of yours and namjoon before you turn your cheek to him. it was a mistake because now you’re holding your breath as you come face to face. his body is leaned into you as he speaks, “i’ll just take care of ___ better.”

he turns to naeun, lips twitching upwards in a brief smile as if to enforce it more and putting a finality to the topic. but you’re left staring at namjoon’s sharp jawline until mrs. kim makes a squealing sound as she clamps her mouth shut in an attempt to tease you.

“gosh, is my baby all grown up now? he’s saying he’ll take care of his wife!”

the chuckle you let out is nowhere near natural or entertained. not when your insides are burning and you think your heart is going into overdrive from how fast it’s beating. and it doesn’t help that namjoon’s too casually playing along “of course, i only have one wife.”

“namjoon,” you take a second to gather yourself, hands fiddling in your lap as the car rolls to a stop in front of the lobby. the man fixes you with an inquisitive gaze. of course, who wouldn’t be wondering what’s up if their name was spoken with so much weight in them like you did with namjoon’s? “what was that? the wife thing?”

he stares into the street as he sifts through his memory before he fixes you with a gaze clouded with guilt, “i’m sorry. i got carried away - it won’t happen again.”

and that’s the thing. namjoon is too fast in admitting his fault. but you didn’t bring it up because you wanted an apology-

“no, i don’t mind.” you shake your head almost too eagerly before back tracking and clearing your throat, “i mean, it’s true. we’re married - i am your wife.”

the corners of his lips upturns at your last words and he doesn’t bother to hide it as he waits for you to finish - but how can you when he’s looking at you so tenderly like that?

“it’s just - too soon?” you curse yourself for sounding so meek but any louder, your heart might just jump out of your throat.

namjoon nods, that contemplative look settling on his face and takes away that smile only to return it with a dimpled grin. one hand slides in between yours and guiding the back of your hand to his lips.

“we’ll take it slow then.”

you can only nod, afraid that if you tried to speak, you would forget how to. the light rap on your side of the window catches both your attention. it’s the parking management. stealing a glance at the cars that are beginning to queue up behind you, you hurriedly gather your bag and hop out of the car.

cheeks flushed, you barely register waving back at namjoon when he leans over the passenger seat just to shoot you that dimpled smile and a ‘see you at home’.

you turn on your heels. the sharp click bounces against the white walls. a small smile spreads across your lips as you think about namjoon’s words.

yeah, the penthouse does feel like home.

this isn’t slow at all. you’re barely progressing.

it feels like everyday is passing by too fast what with the abundance of functions you’ve told namjoon you wanted to go with when you’re not working, to cramming some time for research and trying to find the time to at least make breakfast when you’re not on morning shift. though on some mornings, he’d beat you to breakfast and you’d wake up to the delectable smell of omelette or bacon.

“you must be thrilled about the new hospital, mrs. kim,” mrs. hwan is generally an agreeable woman along with her husband, the president of a small startup firm. they’re the first couple to approach you and namjoon since you arrived at the party. but that’s just it - the smiling, the talking, the eagerness doesn’t show in their eyes. it’s all about building connections while maintaining a good enough acquaintanceship. “are you going to be managing it directly since you’re a doctor yourself?”

“naturally,” the tug on your lips and the smoothness of your response is almost effortless. you’re no stranger to this scene - except back then, you would be standing next to yoongi. though your hand wouldn’t be tucked in his arm like yours is with namjoon. “though i still have a lot to learn, i hope the next two years will help me prepare to for eden.”

two years is the estimated time that eden hospital will be able to run. you’d finish your residency by then. all that’s left is to take the next step. just like your parents had planned for you as they’d planned many things. you never had the power to object.

mrs. hwan goes on to sprinkling empty praises while her husband laughs in deflated humor. they say the way to a successful business deal is through the wife.

once namjoon gets swamped by more people, you gently pull your hand away from his arm. you don’t miss the pleading look he fixes you when he notices your intention but you can only return a ‘you can do it!’ smile and slip away from the limelight.

the balcony area is dark, illuminated only by the fading light the pours over the floor past the door frame. you don’t expect the air to be this chilly at the beginning of summer but then again, namjoon did suggest bringing a coat - you were just too stubborn to because it would ruin the off shoulder look of your dress.

a sneeze escapes you a moment later as you hug yourself in an attempt to retain your body heat. but the warmth that engulfs you seems impossible to have come from just your puny palms - heck, your fingers were starting to feel prickly cold. there’s a sort of weight on your shoulders that wasn’t there before-

“idiot, you’re gonna catch a cold.” yoongi tuts from next to you - he has his hands in his pockets, all donned in crisp white shirt and checkered grey trousers and vest. all that’s missing is a matching blazer - the one that he placed around you just now.

somewhere in the recesses of your memories, you remember him taking off the muffler he had on and wrapping it around your neck when you showed up for your ‘christmas date’ with a pink nose and pinker ears - you could barely feel them. yoongi was that kind of person - the kind that acted like everything is a whole load of inconvenience and yet went to greater length to inconvenient himself for you.

“thanks. i thought i was going to freeze to death if i have to hide out here for another hour.” you tug the thick material of the blazer closer - the warmth of his heat feels just right.

“then you shouldn’t have come in the first place.” he must have noticed the higher-than-an-octave tone he uses before ruffling his hair - it’s the first you’ve ever seen him so unsure. is it really because of you?

“it’s fine. besides, what kind of wife would i be if i let namjoon get eaten by the pack of wolves by himself?” you chuckle at the fact that you’d done just that when you escaped the growing crowd of businessmen.

but when you notice the lack of humor on yoongi’s face, your own dies down. he’s staring at you with an indecipherable look. it’s not the bored expression he usually sports - not also the anger from the outburst just now. before you can say anything, namjoon’s lean silhouette appears in the doorway. you can’t see his face but his tone is strained. “we’re leaving, if you’re both done catching up.”

“so soon?” you know for a fact it probably hasn’t even been fifteen minutes - and you’re supposed to linger for at least two hours before leaving. that’d be enough time for namjoon to scout any potential business associate - the worthy ones at least.

“hey little bro.” yoongi waves, the disinterested look now returning but the way he phrases his next words oozes with revulsion. it’s no surprise. while yoongi hates these events - he’s probably here because of naeun, you heard the director of seoul’s annual art exhibition is here - namjoon strives off it. garnering attention and making the best of it by bringing in stockholders. “had enough of ass licking?”

you never understand the tangibility of the tension that feels the air when these two brothers are in the same room together - they’re barely able to remain civil in the presence of mr. and mrs. kim. anywhere without their parents’ watchful eyes, a fight would always be at risk of breaking out. whenever you were around, you’d be the one to interfere, whether it’s to tug on yoongi’s sleeve and tell him you’re hungry, or step in front of him just so he’d remember you’re here or right now-

“thank you, yoongi.” folding the blazer in half, you hand it back to the man - only that he’s not taking it back. momentarily, you wonder if you’d stained it with your lipstick or foundation but the lapels never touched anywhere above your neck. but deep in the crook of your conscience, you know it’s when his mind retracts back to you, to the present.

the sigh that escapes yoongi is a telltale of fatigue - you wonder if this is the first time of the day he came out of his studio. taking the blazer from your outstretched hand, he slings it over his shoulder, “don’t get too caught up with these functions. focus on your goal.”

your goal meaning what comes next in your career: the fellowship. you thought that information was lost on him, buried among the many things you told him just because you were comfortable telling him everything.

and as you watch him walk back into the lion’s den, you wonder, how didn’t you realize he was in love with someone else during the visits you paid while he was doing his masters and phd?

namjoon doesn’t say anything about yoongi in the car. but both his hands are on the wheel. knuckles a little paler from holding onto the wheel.

“you don’t have to be part of eden’s board of directors.” he huffs, as though annoyed but from the way he continues, you know he’s not annoyed at you. he’s annoyed at himself. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to - i don’t want to force anything on you.”

and you know - you know more than anyone how conscious namjoon is of things. from the change in your mood to the people that tries to get close to him because of his status - that’s also why he didn’t kiss you on your lips that day. but a kiss was the prerequisite of a vow so he kissed you on the forehead. the area where his lips landed burns your skin as your cheeks flush from the memory.

“i know.” you hesitate for a heartbeat but reach out to cover one of his hands on the wheel still. to let him know that you’re not just saying that to ease the guilt.

when you pull away from the thought of how risky and distracting what you did was, the hand that you were lightly caressing pulls at yours, intertwining your fingers as he keeps them on his thigh. your entire body burns from the contact yet you’re sitting frozen in your spot. it’s the gentle squeeze on your hand that brings you out of your shell-shock state. a smile tugs on your lips subconsciously as you squeeze back.

the following week, you almost got into a fight with namjoon when he caught you dressing up prettily. he told you it was okay not to attend these functions anymore - the ones your tight schedule barely allow you to. fight was an overstatement. your feelings were hurt when he’d kissed your temple and said, “it’s okay, you don’t have to push yourself.”

well, you were but he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. “can’t you see? i wanna spend more time with you and the only way i can is if we attend these functions together.”

in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have thrown your strapless black diamond purse at him out of frustration.

but the following functions, you did spend more time together. he’d declined the usual advancement of business people the way only kim namjoon could pull off - with a dimpled smile and a hand around your waist as if to indicate that they were interrupting - and they were. they’d come up to the both of you while you were telling namjoon about a new skillet spaghetti recipe you’d wanted to try making for the long overdue dinner you owe him. and you’d expected someone to approach namjoon and take his attention away but you didn’t think he’d decline them.

“hm? i don’t think we have tomatoes or beef. should we go grocery shopping?” he suggests calmly as though he didn’t just turn down the chairman of tvn broadcast. the man had to do a double take in case he had mistaken namjoon’s smooth rejection.

you place a hand on his chest, restraining the urge to pull your hand away as if you’ve touched fire. you knew he goes to the gym for an hour after work and his shirts always seem a size too small around his arms but you didn’t expect anything beyond that underneath that shirt of his. you clear your throat when you realize his neck is craned so he could look at you - give you all the attention in the world, “you know, we can discuss dinner some other time - when you’re free.”

but neither of you are free. you barely see each other at home because of your unpredictable schedule and his that’s set in stone.

“then what would you rather us talk about right now?” a corner of his lips tugs upwards. if you first met him, you wouldn’t easily dismiss the smile as nothing more than because of his amiable nature. but you’ve been married for almost five months now and you clearly pick up on the playfulness that lights up his eyes.

“the desserts.” you announce too quickly in an attempt to avert his attention from what he’s thinking - one thing you’ve realized is that namjoon is painfully aware of your blushing fits and your avoidance to look him in the eyes. “they’re nice, aren’t they?”

all of a sudden, he’s scooping a forkful of the chocolate souffle he’d picked up from the desserts section while you’d opted for the luscious almond torte. a small smirk tugs on his lips as he holds the fork to your mouth the way he does during breakfast. he knows you have no objections of being fed like a child but he also knows where you stand with public display of affection.

“say ‘aaaaa’ and i’ll give you a treat, doctor ___.” and he loves to tease you. he’s taken to calling you that because of that one incident where he’d seen you discuss about a patient with one of the nurses while you were on your way to meet him. in his own words, he’d ‘never seen you this scary before.’

in your defense, it was five minutes till lunch break so it was still working hours and you were acting the way you usually did at work - but you’d understand. the person you are with friends and the person you are at work are two separate entities. suppose you’ve mastered separating personal business and work. namjoon seems to take pleasure in making that steadfast side of you squirm and blush like a tomato.

your fingerpads gently grazes the back of his hand as you hold the fork in place before taking it in your mouth. your eyes flit over namjoon’s for the briefest moment before taking a step back, licking the residue of souffle off your lips.

“they really are nice.” you murmur as you throw your gaze at the stage where a man sits at the piano before flickering back to namjoon.

you wonder why he’s so quiet all of a sudden -

the man in question still has the empty fork in the air, eyes wide and staring at you, you would’ve thought he’d seen a ghost. until you notice the dust of pink across his cheek and spread to the tip of his ears.

oh?

mrs. kim’s fundraiser is held at the school where the children attended. about four canopies were set up on the field. one for the children’s activities - you remember reading something about coloring, origami-making and storybook reading. the volunteers - possibly college students hoping to earn the graces of kimcorp’s president’s wife for an internship - already have the children huddled up in groups of three or four.

one canopy is specifically set up for a table of wide range of food - if there’s anything you like about these functions, it’s the abundance of food they never fail to prepare. as if spending a lot of money on a fundraising event is something to flex about.

the other two canopies are for the people of interest - acquaintances of mrs. kim and those who come with an ulterior motive be it to get sponsors for their own project, a business deal or simply to regain a higher social hierarchy by falling into your mother-in-law’s graces.

you press a light kiss on namjoon’s cheek before he’s whisked away by the second category. business men who jump at the sight of your ceo husband who got a fair warning from mrs. kim to “play nice. what’s gotten into you all of a sudden? these days i keep hearing things about you turning chairmen down! your father didn’t work this hard just to raise a stuck up son that could ruin his business in a matter of days.”

once you’ve had a slice of red velvet and tiny macaroons, you decide to hide yourself from the few people who try to do the same to you when namjoon is too preoccupied by the ones who claimed his attention first. just like preys on the top of the pyramid sinking its claws, the lower level preys couldn’t come close.

but one manages to follow you into one of the classrooms.

“nothing’s changed has it?’ yoongi stands in the doorway, tuxedo and brown loafers and all. hands tucked into both his pockets, he strides across the room and stops in front of the window that overlooks the light pink canopies and the people underneath them. “same old assholes using a charitable cause to proliferate their influence.”

the muscles on your face pulls your lips into a disapproving frown, “that’s how our parents manage to give us an education. a good life.” you don’t agree to the way they go about it but you give credit where it’s due.

yoongi scoffs, his shoulders jolting slightly. you can’t see his face as he stands with his back on you but you know he’s smirking that condescending smirk. the first time you saw it was when you were in your senior year of high school and yoongi was doing his masters in business and accounting. he’d looked down on the man who approached the two of you like he was scum just because everyone knew his company was wallowing in debt and he’s desperate enough to ask the lion who hates the jungle for help.

“always finding a middle ground. if you like what they do so much, why did you become a doctor? why didn’t you follow their footsteps, huh?”

you can’t help but let out a tired sigh. you’ve been here before. you’ve seen this. yoongi hates the world he’s born in and you understand why but you can never feel what he feels. “why are you here, yoongi? shouldn’t you be with naeun?” there’s a pause. a heartbeat before you decide to let yourself free. say what you want to say. “before the wolves get to her.”

“she’s fine.” it's almost offensive how haughty he sounds. he must either be aware of nauen’s innocence that makes the wolves eliminate the possibility of her being a threat or he just doesn’t care. the latter presumption makes your stomach churn.

did he also not care about you when you were together? when you went to these events as a couple?

“we should head back. it would be bad if anyone saw us alone like this even though we’re just talking.” and that’s that. you turn on your heels, making way to the door but before you can even take another step forward, lithe fingers wrap around your wrist.

“what?” it comes out harsher than you intend it. funny how you put on a face of a woman made out of steel when your knees can barely hold your weight the moment you feel his warm hand on your skin.

“i knew - i knew but i didn’t want to tie you down.” with his head lowered and his long hair, you can’t see his eyes for an idea of what he’s saying.

“yoongi, what-”

“i knew how you felt.” at that moment, his grip on you loosens. it’s almost as though it’s an overdue confession and the weight on his shoulders has finally lifted, “you only knew me - you turned down every boy that tried to ask you out in high school and college. you -you were only looking at me and i didn’t want that on my shoulders - i didn’t want you to turn down every opportunity to life - to dating, to heart break to - to sex with someone - several someone’s just because we were engaged.”

his fingers traces down your index finger before falling away. but you won’t tell him - you can never do it to namjoon - that it took all of you not to twine your fingers with his just because it felt like he was letting go.

your breath hitches in your throat when you turn your cheek towards him. the sight before you is something you’d never thought you’d see in your entire life. yoongi’s pink dusts his otherwise snowflake skin. the bored expression he usually wears is gone - almost as if he’s never worn it his entire life as something akin to desperation pools in those dark eyes. his soft pink lips are agape as though he wants to say something. and you wait, wait, wait but he never does.

so you turn your back on him, heels clicking against the ground as you slip past the door without a word. only when you’re at the end of the hallway, do you turn the corner, back pressed against the wall because your buckling legs might not be able to handle your weight.

those unsaid words - you can hear them clearly: i fucking regret letting you go.

the following week, you spend by drowning yourself in work and later working on your research until the library closes. by the time you’re pressing the 20th floor to the penthouse you both shared, you know for certain namjoon’s gone to bed. he values his sleep time. says it’s essential to keep himself in a good mood so others who work with him would be at ease. sometimes you want to tell him it’s okay not to think about others for once but the words lay buried the depth of your heart because you’re exactly like him. suppressing your feelings, smiling and saying you’re okay even though you’re not. the only difference is there’s a side of you that wants to lash out, do something worse to those who hurt you while namjoon does it from the good of his heart.

“it’s hard, being nice.” he says in between the clink of the stirring of the spoon in his coffee mug.

you look up from the peanut butter you’re spreading over your toast. “hm?”

he shakes his head, as if to say it’s nothing, i’m just thinking out loud. but the words he says next is enough to make your heart drop right to the ground. “yoongi told me.”

“wh-what?” it’s denial in your tone - the combination of those three words are simple enough to take you back to the school nine days ago. in side that little classroom.

“yesterday. he came over to the office.” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal but the tensed line of his shoulders is apparent no matter how casually he brings the mug to his smiling lips - that too. his lips are smiling but his eyes are not.

you don’t know when or how you started noticing the little things. sensing namjoon’s moods - his reactions and his retractions. you never realized you were so in tune with the things he does. all you realize is you’re already able to read him like a book - thick, best-leather book that was safeguarded by a lock.

“namjoon,” the clink of the butter knife being set on your plate resonates like a pin drop in a vacuum room, “nothing happened. i promise.”

“i know - i know you’d never do anything like that so that’s why i’m telling you it’s okay.” something in the way he looks at you make you bite your tongue - as if he’s asking you to listen even though you’re bursting at the seams. you’d do anything to prove that nothing happened even though you knew he knew. “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

he chuckles but it’s strained and tense, dumping the coffee into the sink because he couldn’t bear to stay in the kitchen any longer. you slip out of the high stool, feet padding around the counter and before you know it, your arms around his body. you feel him freeze under your touch and this is wrong - wrong on so many levels because he would have asked if he could touch you and you’re not reflecting the same amount of respect he had for you.

but for some reason, you can’t let go - you’re afraid if you let him walk out of the door, you’d never be able to grasp even a shadow of his existence.

“i don’t want to.” the words are muffled from your cheek pressing against his back.

a pause lapses between you when you don’t say anything else. no explanation. no reason. because you don’t know it yourself. you don’t know why your heart clenches in your chest at the sight of namjoon’s dismal smile. you don’t know why you acted on your instincts and hugged the man.

you don’t know.

“okay.” he sighs softly as a warm palm rests above your fisted hand. you wish you can see him - wish you can see what kind of expression he’s making because it’s killing you to not know what he’s thinking. “you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

that’s when the sniffle escapes you. internally, you curse yourself for being so emotion-driven. it’s not a good trait for a doctor to have.

namjoon calls your name. the syllabus rolling off his tongue makes your stomach churn with butterflies. “are you crying?”

you don’t expect him to say that. don’t expect the teasing undertone either. naturally, your respond comes a heartbeat later, “n-no.”

the body under your touch shifts. all of a sudden, you’re eye-to-eye with him. there’s a sparkle in them that almost makes you forget how to breathe. his dimples dig into his cheek as his lips curl into a smile whilst his large hands frames you face.

“wh-what?” you feel your brows furrowing, lips pursed.

“you’re too cute.” his thumb grazes your burning cheekbone feather light, “i want to kiss you.”

“then do it.” you don’t know the reason behind that angry, pressed tone but namjoon doesn’t seem to mind - or he knows something you don’t.

you don’t have the time to ponder on that when a pair of lush lips meshes with yours. the scent of the coffee he had engulfs your senses as one hand finds its way to the back of his neck and the other rests on his accelerating heartbeat. time seems to stop when namjoon’s kissing you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you distinctly remember something perpetually important but you couldn’t be bothered as his hands fall away from your face and finds the dip of your lower back and pull you closer until your bodies are pressed together.

somewhere in a distant, you hear the beep of the front door. hoseok’s voice booming across the hallway that leads to the living room and the kitchen where you’re at now.

“namjoon? you here? did you oversleep? man, i never thought i’d see the day our ceo is late to work.” hoseok’s footsteps stops at the end of the hallway, “oh great, you’re all dressed.”

he blinks, surprised at the sight of his boss who’s leaning against the edge of the sink - hands pressed on either side of the edge, doing absolutely nothing while you dip a butter knife into a jar of peanut butter and jelly but equally as out-of-it as his boss appear to be.

“y-yeah, let me grab my blazer.” namjoon pushes himself off, going around the counter and heading towards the stairs where his bedroom is until -

“it’s here.” hoseok points out.

“what?”

“your blazer. it’s this one, right?” the secretary loyally scoops up the thick maroon blazer off the couch and hands it to his boss who’s just barely recovered from what seems to be a trance.

he’d went down and tossed the blazer on the couch before making his coffee - before the kiss.

namjoon clears his throat, refusing to look at the man’s scrutinizing eyes as he thanks him and slips the blazer on. but he loses those eyes when he peeks over the man’s shoulder, mini-waving at you, “hey, morning, doc.”

you return the greeting, refraining a blush as you feel the ghost of namjoon’s lips when you fix his secretary a smile, “hey, hoseok. care to join us for breakfast?”

the man shrugs, eyes flitting over his boss who now seems ready to go, “thanks doc but i had some cereal and cold milk.”

he bids his farewell and escapes out of where he came from, letting the two of do what newly weds do before the other goes to work. it’s in that moment that he realizes with a chill running down his spine as he sat in the driver seat - that namjoon isn’t a bachelor anymore and he couldn’t come and go as he pleases and that he might have interrupted something. come to think of it, both you and namjoon’s cheeks were flushed...

“h-hey boss,” hoseok steals a glance of the man at the backseat through the rear view mirror. he almost chokes on his next words when the man’s eyes meet him but he persists like a man on a mission to not get fired , “y-you know, i’ve been with kimcorp. f-for a long time. i-it’s like my family a-and i’ll work harder from now on.”

confusion flashes across namjoon’s features for the briefest moment. he doesn’t know what makes hoseok say something so out of his character and shakily at that but it’s not the first time that his employee’s said something like this to him - of course, minus the stutter and all.

“that’s good to know, hoseok.” he says simply.

it’s been a week since you told namjoon you didn’t - wouldn’t see anyone. yoongi or not. when you told him you were going to meet yoongi at a cafe near his studio to give the man an answer - a hard no, there’s still some needling doubt in namjoon’s gaze as he reverts his eyes away from you. as though he was afraid that the illusion would fade away and he’d end up catching the smolder of passion he’d always seen you look at the man with.

he’s not lost to your feelings - in hindsight, it was pathetically obvious how smitten you were for the elder man. even your and his parents could see. and they’d foreseen many things but not having to plead and then beg and then finally, force you into a marriage you didn’t want with the brother of the man you loved.

your only regret was leaving without kissing namjoon goodbye - but it also felt like anything you said, any sort of assurance you offered would just be an act. until you tell his brother to stop.

“come to think of it,” you set the warm cup of latte down. it would have tasted better if the circumstances were different, “we never properly ended things. the only way i knew the engagement was over was through mom and dad.” his parents you meant.

he tilts his head to the side as a response - an indication that he’s listening. he’s dressed in plain white shirt and the darkest jeans. the bags under his eyes is an indication that he hasn’t slept in days - either it’s because of working late nights trying to make music or because of what he’d said to you.

you know he’d do this - detach himself from reality when things gets tough or when he’s stuck in a situation he doesn’t have control over. but you still had hope. still held onto the past seven years you’d spent together for him to regard you with enough respect to offer closure.

“do you love naeun that much?” and yet you still ask.

you meet his hollow gaze, not knowing the intensity yours hold until your fingerpads wrapped around aches and he lets out a heavy breath.

“she was different.” he says simply - almost tiredly, “she caught my eyes. we started talking and we found out we had some things in common. i thought she’s what i needed to get over you.”

“don’t.” the churning starts from your stomach and spreads across your body like a poisonous fog. “don’t use me as an excuse for leaving. you loved me as much as i loved you and you got scared.”

a lump forms in your throat as the memories, the inside jokes that built up over time, the comfortable silents spent - everything comes crashing in like tidal wave. you knew he loved you deep down. that was why the news of him getting married took a toll on you - so much so, you decided to leave everything behind and fly to paris.

“you could’ve pushed me away if you truly had no feelings for me but you kept me around and let me think we were going to have a happy future together.” his image is distorted from the prickles of tears in your eyes but you blink them away, “but you didn’t really know you were in love with me back then, huh? that’s why you got scared shitless and decided to leave.” you’re not sure if you’re choking on your words or if you’re actually scoffing. maybe both.

in that moment, you watch as yoongi’s expression switches from that signature boredom to realization and finally unbridled sorrow. he must feel suffocated - like he’s drowning in emotions the way you did in that suite you spent for two weeks in paris before you decided to buy an apartment and stay for good. and you would have if your parents didn’t call you back - recounted all their sacrifices for you to make you guilty enough to agree to the marriage with his younger brother. he’ll spend the same amount of time sleeping and waking up in his room and realizing he can’t turn back time.

“i fucked up big time, didn’t i?” he laughs dryly as he presses his palm to his face, hunched over the minute round table.

the latte is still half-full when you swipe your phone off the table and stand up. he doesn’t spare you a glance - he probably couldn’t bring himself to face you now.

‘you’re a fucking coward min yoongi.’ is what you want to say but for some reason, you leave the words to die on the tip of your tongue. you won’t - can’t wish him a happy life and propose to put everything past you. it’s not that simple and you’re not that forgiving. but namjoon’s easy smile flashes at the back of your head at this moment of all time and makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. their relationship is already strained and if you insist on prolonging this, it’s only going to end up hurting namjoon one way or another and the cycle will just keep going on with naeun getting hurt if she found out.

“you did.” your hand is trembling around the strap of your bag, “but it’s all in the past and i don’t blame you. things wouldn’t turn out the way they do otherwise. so just... live for the present, yoongi.”

his shoulders rise and fall a little faster than normal but there’s nothing you can do - and it’s better if you leave him to collect his thoughts. the censor at the door beeps as you pass through. it takes a moment for you to feel the morning air brush your cheeks and sunlight to seep into you. your chest still feels tight but in due time, you know it’ll lighten.

“hey, boss. you have a special guest.” hoseok peeks into namjoon’s office like the slyboots he is. the wiggle of the man’s brows before he disappears gives namjoon all the more reason to prepare for the worse.

“send them in.” he sighs, not bothering to hide his feelings in front of hoseok. they’ve been working side by side for a long time and friends for longer he knows his friend is aware of the contrasting definition of ‘special’ but this once, as he sees you walk through the door - he admits that him and hoseok may finally be of the same mind.

namjoon shoots up from his seat, clearing his throat and buttoning his blazer together the way he’s so used to doing it when he receives an unannounced visit from his father. “what brings you here?”

instead of shooting him one of your brilliant smiles, you drop your bag on the crisp white leather couch and run right into him. arms wrapped around his torso, he can smell your favorite floral shampoo from your hair but he can’t bring himself to hug you back. his heart is palpitating inside his chest and he can only pray for some miracle that you can’t hear it. which is most unlikely what with your head coming up just a few centimeters above his shoulder line and your ears being the same height as the beating organ in his chest.

if you notice, you're not saying anything about it.

“i met yoongi just now.”

namjoon doesn’t say a word for the longest time - it’s so namjoon of him not to. but it’s also not where you stand now. that day, when you partially admitted to liking namjoon and you’re pretty sure he felt the same - you’d seen a side of namjoon you never thought you’d saw. vulnerable. fearful. all because he thought he was going to lose you - and it felt like he’s always been prepared for it. it was just a matter of time.

the muscles in your arms contracts at the thought of namjoon being so ready to let you go - is it like that too, right now? is he expecting you to go back on your words and tell him you’re going to have an affair with his brother? you don’t know and that’s driving you insane.

and just when the muscles in your arm contract, just when you’re about to pull away, namjoon’s arms band around your body and a kiss lands on top of your head.

“did you tell him what you wanted to tell him all this time?” his voice is velvet and smooth and you can hear that easy smile as he speaks.

you nod against his chest. “it’s over. i told him to get lost.”

the chest vibrates against your cheek as rings of chuckles tumble out of namjoon’s mouth. it makes your body light up with a sort of fire. and for once, you welcome the heat spreading across your cheeks like an old friend.

he knows the last part is a bluff - it’s comforting that he knows without having you say it.

does he also know...

“after that i came here because i wanted to see you.” you crane your neck to look up at him.

true enough there’s that smile and gets wider when he meets your gaze. a hand comes to rest on your neck while his thumb grazes your chin as he presses his lips to yours. you think your heart might explode at any moment now as you kiss him back, your hand snaking to his shoulder but he stops your right hand, holding it on his chest. his heart beats the same rhythm as yours. his shoulder line heaving the same way yours do when the back of your thighs hit the couch and you finally break apart. but before you have the chance to gather your thoughts, his lips are on you again. the hand on your lower back pulling you closer until your thighs press on either side of his legs.

“let’s go home now.” he murmurs between breaths, “i might really go crazy if i touch another part of your body that’s covered in clothing.”

it’s in that moment that the door swings open.

hoseok bursts through the door with the photostatted files in his hand. there’s a skip in his step.

“hey boss! here’s the files you asked for.”

he looks between you - well your back - and namjoon. the ceo is fixing his tie with a hard expression while you’re standing facing the ceiling-to-floor window that overlooks the streets and several stores in the area.

d-did he just walk into you two fighting?

“thanks, hoseok.” namjoon swipes the files from his hand, walking back to his seat around the desk and dropping the files with a sharp pap!

“n-no problem boss.” he takes one frightened step backwards before turning around but before he manages to escape the lion’s den, you stop him.

“hoseok wait.” it comes out a bit rushed. granted, you’re not in any position to waste time. you dropped by even though you know you can’t afford being late to work but somehow you ended up at namjoon’s office anyway. the secretary seems to physically turn into a rock before shakily turn his cheek to you with a smile.

“uh, yeah doc?”

“namjoon, do you mind me borrowing hoseok for a bit?” the heat comes on full force as you turn to namjoon. he’s burning a hole through the files he’s flipping through but you don’t miss the pinked tips of his ears and the way his adam’s apple bobs at the sound of his name on your tongue, “my shift is starting at noon so i need to be there by,” you check the watch on your wrist, “now.”

the way namjoon doesn’t even look up from flipping the papers is how hoseok know for sure you’re fighting. “sure thing. oh and hoseok, no detours. come straight back once you drop ___ off.”

but to you, it’s because he’s flustered beyond imagination - you know, like you know how he’ll condemn himself for not being able to control himself like that. your whole body heats up as you slip into the back seat when the image of namjoon’s hooded eyes, reddened cheeks and half agape lips flash at the back of his mind. a part of you - the reasonable one - chides yourself for even thinking about ditching work and actually going home with him but another part wishes to indulge in the endless possibilities of what will happen if you did.

“____,” your name tumbles out of namjoon’s mouth in a breathy huff. naturally so. he hasn’t even caught his breath from when he finds you crawling over him like a woman in on a mission. now, the same exact woman his cuffing his wrists and holding them over his head with one hand while the other is undoing the buttons of his shirt while she kisses him in all the right places.

“wh-where did you even get cuffs?” his headboard is one of those pristine white cushioned ones meaning there isn’t any rails for you to hook him on and keep him in place. but you don’t need that because namjoon can barely move - all that time he spends at the gym has gone down the drain as invisible threads tie him down.

“oh these?” you let one corner of your lips tug deviously. it’s been six months since you got married and you and namjoon has never gone past the occasional cuddles and light kisses. the morning after that day when you dropped by his office after meeting yoongi, namjoon had declared his intentions to ‘do it right’ - like dates and getting to know each other better before anything else.

it was sweet of him. until you realized you barely had time for dates - only late night conversations that ended up with you on top of him but before things could progress, he’d do everything he could to avoid bedroom affairs. but over time, it gets a bit discouraging. so this is the last straw - there’s no wine or champagne for him to use as an excuse to carry you to your room. you’re both sober, and if he doesn’t want you -

“never mind where i got these.” the low sound emitting from his throat makes your heart skip a beat as your lips brush against the shell of his ear, “don’t you want me, namjoon?”

trailing hisses down his smooth jawline, you let your lips hover over his - it only lasts for a heartbeat before he closes the distance and starts kisses you like a famine beast.

“i want you,” he confesses when you pull away just to reinforce your control. he may be the one lying down with his hands bound but it almost felt like you’re the hopeless one here - almost. the a feral glint in his eyes sends hot waves down your core - you have to tell yourself to breathe. “of course i fucking want you ___.”

you hum in contemplation - taking just enough time to sit straighter and let your fingers undo the rest of the buttons and stopping just above his belt. the few times you laid together and he lets you lie on top of him - you knew he was brains and brawn. but you didn’t expect a perfectly sculpted body of adonis himself to be lying beneath you. the ridges of his abs heaves helplessly as he drawn in deep breaths.

somewhere on the edge of the bed where you’d tossed it, your phone vibrates - someone’s calling but that can wait.

you lean down, soft tresses brushing his skin as you kiss that spot that illicit a delicious sound from him the first time you discovered it. somewhere in the junction between his shoulder and neck.

“fuck.” his voice is raw and desperate and carnal as his body yearns for you. his legs bent at the knees, feet ground into the bed as he grinds his hip into you - the signs of his arousal painfully obvious.

you can’t help but giggle at the way he so vehemently yearn for you. somewhere on the bed, your phone starts vibrating again.

“y-your phone.” he manages to stammer out. it’s the third time it’s vibrating.

“don’t worry about it. the only people who would call me at this time is jisoo’s drunken butt dial or the hospital-” you sit back up, heat still pooling in your stomach when your hips grind against namjoon’s arousal in the process but the urgency in the way you swipe your phone off the sheets has stolen your attention.

clear as day, it is one of the two possibilities you’ve mentioned and it isn’t your quirky colleague.

when you first started working, you were of the ripe age and eager to help those in need. you loved your job despite the long arduous hours, missed meals and ungodly hour roll calls because at the end of the day, it was what you wanted to do - it was the one thing you wouldn’t let your parents take away from you. you fought blood sweat and tears to get where you are now.

and doctors don’t usually start a family until they’ve at least finished their residency - but you had to get married early to keep your end of the bargain. of course, you didn’t expect to commit to said marriage. you didn’t also expect to fall for namjoon either. and you certainly didn’t expect for him to still be here in the waiting area when you walked out of the emergency operating room, head lulling to the side as sleep begins to take him, arms crossed over his chest. he didn’t even get the chance to change when you hurriedly uncoffed him, informing him about an emergency at the er. he’d offered to drive you since you couldn’t drive and waiting for an uber driver to accept your request this late at night would take more time. you’d rushed out of the car with a ‘thanks, namjoon. i owe you one!’ thinking he’d go home and get some rest - there’s no telling how long these surgeries take after all.

when he leans too far to the side, his eyes flutter open softly before noticing the turquoise-clad body in his periphery.

“___, you’re done? did the surgery go alright?” he’s always had a way of saying your name. it makes your heart warm and your chest full as he stands up to close the distance between you - to cup one side of your cheek with his hand. though your delayed response may have been the reason for that.

“the surgery was a success.” you finally say, your smaller hand covering his, lips curving softly. guilt creeps up the creeks of your chest but gratitude washes it away. it wouldn’t have been very namjoon of him if he didn’t consider everything: how you’d go home once you’re done. if there’s even any uber working this late of an hour. your heart is swelling - you don’t think you can ever love him more than you do now but namjoon being namjoon, he’ll make you fall in love with him more and more until your heart is filled to the brim, “thank you, namjoon.”

and he gets it. just like that. the words that you’re saying without putting them into words because there are many ways to say it and a plethora of intrepreting it but namjoon gets it because his heart beats the same rhythm as you: i love you.

a dimpled smile curls over his lips as he places a kiss over your forehead, “should we go home?” he leans down to whisper into your ears, his tone changing dangerously, “and pick up where we left off, yeah doc?”

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squeeneyart · 4 years ago

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 7

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger who does a great job

Tim and Martin sit out the nausea.

Martin talks to himself.

“You sure you don’t want to head home for the day?” Tim asked, picking at the grass beside him. He and Martin sat with their backs pressed against the cliff railing, facing away from the steep drop. The lighthouse loomed in front of them, barely casting a shadow as morning ticked closer to noon.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Martin replied. He rested his arms on his knees, his chin buried into the fabric of his coat sleeves. “I don’t really feel like walking down the hill yet? I’ll at least wait for the others to get back.”

“Well, they should be here soon, unless the place Simon pointed us toward is yet another weird building that makes you feel like you’re falling into a big hole.” Tim squinted up at the sky and immediately seemed to regret it, leaning forward to drop his face between his knees. “Ugh, the Fairchild place was almost as bad as here. I’m surprised we survived the walk back down. If we didn’t have someone leading us out, we’d probably be swallowed up by the carpet! Sorry to say, but I think your whole town is fucked. Or any place owned by the weird old guy club, I guess.”

Martin grimaced. “I don’t get how Jon and Sasha seem so unbothered by it. If it were just me, I’d chalk it up to stress or something, but, well.”

Tim nodded in solemn understanding. “‘But, well’.’” He lifted his head and squinted in the sunlight. “It could be they’re faking it and I’m the only one willing to ‘fess up. If that’s the case, they’ve been really good at pretending their stomachs haven’t been dropping straight into the sea all weekend. But, between you and me, Jon can’t act for shit.”

Martin’s shoulders bobbed with silent laughter. “He seems very easy to read, yeah.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t think he’s ever successfully lied in his life, unless you count avoiding a subject altogether.” Tim smiled and leaned back against the railing, brushing a hand over his hair. “Glad you two are getting on, by the way. I’m sure Sasha already talked to you about it, but the turnaround really was impressive. I was concerned he’d just be pissy this whole week over some spilt tea.”

Martin buried the bottom of his face a degree further into his coat. “Please don’t remind me. Anyway, I’m sure having something weird to chase after helped. Means this place wasn’t a total waste of time for you.”

“Hey, it wasn’t gonna be a total waste. I can’t speak for him, but I for one love to make new connections.” He waggled his eyebrow, making Martin snort and turn a brighter shade of red. “Really, though, you’ve been a lot of help. If the walk home is that bad, you should just stay up where the sun actually hits for a while. None of us will mind if you hang around, and I need someone here to prove that my dizzy spells aren’t just me being ridiculous.”

Martin’s mouth sunk into a frown. “No, once they get back I’ll head home. Lunch won’t make itself.”

“What, don’t want to grab something with us nerds?” Tim asked, smiling broadly.

“N-No, I just, y’know, I bought groceries yesterday, and if I eat out too much, I’ll end up wasting some of it, and-” Martin searched for more excuses that wouldn’t bring his mother into the picture and failed.

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together in thought, then took out his phone and asked, “What’s your number?”

“What?”

“Your mobile? In case we need to reach you. And so I can send you dumb shit in my down time that I’ve already sent to Sasha.”

For a moment, Martin sat in stunned silence. “Um. Okay?” He said, his voice cracking in the most embarrassing way possible. Then, slowly, he took an old phone out of his coat pocket, technically a smart phone but just barely. They exchanged numbers, and Martin stared at the new contact before slipping the phone back into place.

“There, now you’re stuck with me. I’ll keep you updated if Sasha and Jon do in fact decide to do something stupid that gets us all disappeared. Speaking of,” Tim said, shading his eyes with a hand. “Here they come now, and Jon looks especially irritated.” They both stood up, grasping at the railing and sharing a weary look.

“Come on, guys,” Sasha yelled from the bottom of the steps. “Break time’s over.”

Back inside, the four of them sat around the table. From the looks on their faces, Jon and Sasha had been disappointed by their short venture. “So, how are you two doing?” Sasha asked. “How’s the nausea?

“Oh, just fine. We can almost get up without losing breakfast.” Tim said. “How was the place?”

Jon crossed his arms. “Unsurprisingly, Simon Fairchild sent us to an inaccessible piece of private property owned by the Lukas family. We couldn’t even get anyone to come to the door. For now, it may be a dead end.”

“I could try to get Peter to let us in?” Martin suggested with little enthusiasm.

Sasha looked at his obviously pained expression and shook her head. “No, bad idea. Simon was pretty clear on Peter not knowing we went to his home. I’d guess that extends to any of us going into this other place. If what you said happened back at the house is true, I don’t want that kind of risk. We’ll have to try it later and hope for an answer.”

Martin let out a relieved sigh and stood. “Good, good idea. I’ll be going then. I guess if you need me for… questions? Updates? Tim has my number.”

Sasha raised her eyebrows at Tim in amusement, while Jon rolled his eyes and scowled. With a lopsided smile, Tim shrugged and said, “What? The guy lives at the bottom of the world. We can’t drag him up and down that hill all day.”

Perhaps quicker than necessary, Martin excused himself and walked out of the building. The last bit of conversation he heard was Jon complaining about a lack of workplace professionalism, followed by Tim making a mocking comment that Martin couldn’t quite hear.

Once he had walked a little ways away, he relaxed. They really did balance each other out, the three of them. He could imagine Sasha breaking them apart in a little while, then getting them on task like before.

His hand brushed against the phone in his pocket, and he felt a little pang in his throat. He pushed the sensation down. Chances were, they wouldn’t need to call him, and it would be best to pay as little attention to his phone as he always had.

After the usual walk home, Martin approached his mother in front of the television. There was one of her Christian programs playing, the kind with the television preacher. “Hi, Mum.”

“You took much longer than usual,” she said stiffly. He could see her attempting to swallow and went toward the kitchen.

“Sorry, work ran long today. I’ll get lunch going.” He began to look through the fridge, considering his options.

“I’m not hungry. Just want a glass of water,” she said, her voice hoarse. Martin winced.

“One second.” He quickly filled a glass from the tap and brought it to her. “You will need to eat something to get your medication down. I’ll make something for both of us and we’ll see how you’re feeling then.”

She huffed in response, taking a sip of water and clearing her throat. Once food was ready, she did eat enough for her medication and then some, setting Martin at ease.

“It’s sunny today, if you’d like to sit out front,” he suggested after cleaning up the tray in front of her. She sniffed and otherwise stayed silent. “Okay… let me know if you change your mind. The fog even cleared out a bit-”

“I am not going outside today.”

“Okay.”

Martin left her alone and went back to the kitchen and set some chicken in the fridge to defrost. His future self would thank him later, he thought, and he went upstairs to figure out the rest of his Sunday.

The first order of business was to lay down and sleep for a while. Two busy mornings in a row and he was exhausted, the muscles in his legs finally catching up to all of the extra walking. As he lay down, he thanked his walls, bed, and windows for staying in place and gently drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, Martin woke to find the sun had retreated back behind clouds and a familiar layer of fog. He reached for his phone on the bedside table to check the time. 4:30 pm. It was almost time to get dinner started, but before he could move to set the phone down, he saw there was text notification. Without his glasses, he had to squint and hold the phone close to his face. The brightness stung his eyes. The messages were from about fifteen minutes ago.

Tim: hey Tim: what do these weird knobs and buttons do anyway

Attached was a distorted photo, apparently of the upstairs console in the lighthouse.

“Shit,” Martin mumbled, tapping out an answer.

Martin: dont know, peter never told me. work the lighthouse i guess, make sure the big light is running. Martin: also what does all the static mean

Almost immediately, he got a response.

Tim: is that how lighthouses work? Tim: means its weird shit. weird shit hates digital

Martin: its the only lighthouse ive ever worked in, your guess is as good as mine Martin: oh good

No response came for a bit, and Martin took the pause to get out of bed. Halfway down the stairs, his phone buzzed.

Tim: update, stairs still bad Tim: arseholes who don’t get spooky vertigo club

Attached was another photo, still fuzzy, this time of Jon and Sasha walking ahead with Tim’s hand just barely in frame, clutching the rail. Jon was looking at the camera with a stern expression, his mouth open in the middle of saying something. Martin laughed quietly and continued walking.

In the time it took to prepare the chicken for baking, his phone vibrated in his pocket a few times. With his hands coated, there was no way to check until he slid the chicken into the oven twenty minutes later.

Tim: dont think anything stupid will happen tonight Tim: no one’s gotten too desperate yet but tomorrow is a new day Tim: will let you know if we end up getting arrested in the middle of the night for trespassing tho

Martin: haha, very funny

Tim: give it until tuesday

Martin’s eyebrow twitched, unsure of how seriously to respond.

Martin: please dont get me fired?

Tim: no promises! ;)

It felt like a lighthearted enough response to put Martin at ease. Tim liked joking. Martin knew that by now. If Tim was saying it, then it was a joke. Plus, it was clear Sasha and Jon were very by-the-books. If Jon would lecture Tim about texting, he certainly wasn’t the type to do anything illegal.

Still, the number of times Tim had joked about it made Martin irrationally nervous. That and Simon being cryptic and threatening. And the buildings trying to make him sick. And Jon-

Sliding his phone into his back pocket, Martin distracted himself with preparing the rest of their dinner. It wasn’t the time to spiral. He had chicken in the oven and vegetables to steam.

Dinner was made and eaten within the hour, and Martin’s phone stayed silent for the duration. When his mother asked to go outside after dinner, he did his best not to be outwardly irritated at her change of mind and did as she requested, covering his face to protect himself against the night wind.

It wasn’t until later when he had just about settled down for bed that Martin checked his phone, under the pretense that he was setting his alarm for the morning. There were no unread messages, so he set his phone down onto the side table to charge.

The fog rolled outside his window, illuminated by the weak light of the front porch. When sleep eventually took him, he dreamed of nothing.

When 6 am came, Martin found himself in an empty lighthouse. Under his arm was the expected box of documents he was to work with for the week, which he set on his desk. He then dragged his chair back over from the folding table, which was still littered with loose papers and three used mugs.

“Right, right. Library day. They could’ve at least remembered to clean up a bit.” Martin brought the dirty dishware to the kitchen and placed them in the sink to soak, then looked around for something clean to use for himself. He managed to find a kitschy one he’d always liked, with a tiny, smiling whale on the side.

“Looks like it’s just you and me.”

His voice echoed through the building, the final ‘me’ stretching on much too long.

Martin glared out into the main room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alone, laugh it up.”

Again, the last ‘up’ lingered and drifted up the stairs, and he wanted to slap himself for walking right into that one. There was no point in talking back to a possibly haunted building.

He settled on silently making himself some tea, then dove into the week’s work. It was mind-numbing, as expected, but after a while it grew to be calming and familiar. The weird ache in his chest gave way to distraction, and hours ticked by without interruption. Martin began to feel normal, or his version of normal before things started to be poked and prodded. Before he knew it, he had eaten lunch and was on his way to the second half of his shift.

“...up.”

Martin jumped, almost knocking over his tea. That had been his voice. Just a single noise that hung in the air with no echo to be heard. No, he thought, no, no, no, he was not going to take any bait in this place. He righted himself in his chair and reached for the pen he had dropped.

“Me. Up.” Even with his original tone resting in those syllables, the new sense of urgency was unmistakable.

Against every part of his brain screaming at him, he took a step toward the stairs. Before he could go any further the front door swung open.

“Hey, Martin, we’re back,” Sasha said, carrying a file folder. “We- woah, are you okay?”

Martin stopped and stared at her, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. “Um. Define okay.”

The three researchers stopped and shared a concerned look. Sasha walked over to set her things on the table. “Okay, okay, clearly something happened.”

“What’s going on?” Jon asked, looking around warily.

Before Martin could open his mouth, his voice came from above. “Up.”

Everyone froze, holding their breath for a moment. Jon was first to break the silence, his voice filled with disdain. “Good. It can record us now.”

“Up. Now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Tim gripped Jon’s shoulder and gestured insistently to the front door. They all vacated the building and stopped on the front steps, finally letting out a collective breath.

“Have you all, um, dealt with ghosts? Directly?” Martin sat on the bottom step, rubbing his hands over each other. “Ones that take the last word you said?”

“We don’t know if it’s a ghost, but no, not personally,” Jon replied, sitting a few steps up and typing on his laptop. “Can’t say I really believe in them, either.”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, sure, definitely not a ghost in there.”

“I’m inclined to suspect something more concrete. Somehow, the lighthouse was trapping the sound of our voices. According to Martin it only used the last words he uttered, and the same happened with me. With only a few things to work with, it wouldn’t be hard to-”

“To accidentally order us up the creepy staircase of the creepy lighthouse.” Tim stood, hands in his pockets.

“If it’s using ‘me’, ‘up’, and ‘now’, what else could it say? Otherwise, there was just ‘back’ and okay’ as far as I can tell.”

They continued to go back and forth, Jon being much more stubborn about the whole thing than Martin would’ve expected from a paranormal researcher. Maybe ghosts were an especially contended subject? It didn’t seem like it from Tim and Sasha’s reactions, but Martin was out of his depth. People turning into seals was a far cry from specters and mind-bending architecture.

Still, it being a ghost sounded right. There were meaning and intent behind the words repeated back to him, he was certain of it. If that was the case, maybe there was someone or something in this place trying to talk to him. That’s what ghosts did, right? Reach out to the living?

“Then we’ll just have Martin stay outside for a bit,” Jon said, closing his laptop decisively.

Martin found himself back in the conversation. “What?”

“We’re going to try the place Simon pointed us toward again. Hopefully, we’ll be let in this time and get some answers. The library didn’t have much in terms of useful information, I’m afraid.”

Sputtering, Martin replied, “So, what, I’m just going to wait out here? I still have work to do!”

Jon stared at him and sighed. “Bring it outside then. It shouldn’t rain today, and we don’t want to risk anything now that we know something is… active. You’re sure nothing like this has ever happened?”

“No, this is... new.”

“Then the safest thing is to avoid whatever is going on. It’s for your own well-being, and since we’re probably the cause of it, I don’t want to be in the business of putting people in danger.” Jon said. Martin was at a loss for arguments and nodded. “Good. If our luck hasn’t changed, we’ll be back soon. Otherwise, I suppose Tim will text you the good news.” There was a slight, acidic turn to Jon’s voice near the end that Martin couldn’t place.

Martin pushed himself onto his feet. “Okay… good luck? I guess? I’ll go get my work, then.”

Apparently satisfied, Jon placed his laptop into its case and motioned for the other two to follow him. As they left, Tim shot Martin a worried thumbs up.

When Martin walked back inside, he stopped halfway to the desk, eyes glued to the staircase. He had told Jon he would get his things and go outside.

“Hello?” Martin waited and got no response. “If you’re a ghost, now’s the time to say so.” Still nothing. He let out a noise of frustration. “Say something? Please?”

“Hello? Up. Please?”

Taking a glance back at his desk, Martin bit his tongue and internally berated himself. No use giving the place a name to call him. He really was an idiot, he thought, creeping up the staircase as if the ghost might hear his footfalls. Why had he taught it to be polite?

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #au fanfic #selkie au #fanfic

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justhereforseverus · 4 years ago

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A rose by any other name would smell as sweet

Chapter 5: Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war

During your first "lesson" with Severus Snape, you get a flashback of something long forgotten and avoided.

Notes:

This is angsty. TW: for shouting abuse, horrible teachers, classmates, and almost passing out.

Yes, I know a real flashback doesn't work that way but this is what I can produce with my limited writing abilities. Thank you so much for reading! I've also wrote some very emotional, romantic, loving, intense scenes for the future chapters and I can't wait to share them.

Chapter Text

I slept like a sweet little lion cub. Ok, no idea if they sleep well but that was the first thing that came into my mind this morning. I felt refreshed, full of energy and entirely at peace. Gosh, that sleeping potion was truly magic. I basically hopped into the great hall for breakfast and Remus looked at me like I’ve turned myself into a unicorn and exclaime: “What the hell happened to you? You look almost like a normal person today. Are you the real (y/n) or did you simply have a good night’s sleep?” I sat next to him and eagerly poured myself some pumpkin juice. “Yes, actually I slept like a baby. Severus’ sleeping potion is really something. Highly recommendable 10/10. Might work for you, too, you scruffy little dog.” He jokingly stuck his tongue out and finished eating his pancake before saying: “First of all: I’m anything BUT a little dog and I think scruffiness is not a negative thing because it makes me look cute – I let out a small ironic haha at this – “and secondly: Congrats! He didn’t poison you! That means he tolerates you, which is better than what the rests of us get: pure loath and hatred.”

“Doesn’t he also make your wolfsbane potion?”

Yes, but I’m convinced he’s putting something in there that causes headaches afterwards just because he can.”

“But you can’t prove it, dear! Anyway, any plans for the weekend?” “Yes, I have a date with my very attractive girlfriend Tonks so sorry no intercourse this time unless you’re open for a threesome.”

“Stop it! No, thank you, I’m good! You’re hanging out way too much with Sirius. I haven’t forgotten how he flirted with me the first time we’ve met. Worst pick up lines ever! But I’m happy for you. I don’t have any plans, yet but we’ll see. Might get a bit of reading done.”

“How boring but that might be just the perfect weekend for you. If you want to you can ask our dungeon bat to join. Maybe he feels social for once.”

“Haha, very funny. But either way I’m glad to have a bit of a break from teaching.”

I appreciate that Remus is so open and easy to be around with. Sometimes I fear we became best friends way too fast but it’s like in school. You click with someone and it’s you and your best friend against the world. His girlfriend Tonks has been in his life for a couple of months now and gosh they are so in love it makes me happy. Makes me miss having a crush and a relationship sometimes. I haven’t been in one for ages. I’m just scared and don’t connect that way with people. Well, unless you count celebrity crushes, fictional characters and poets long dead and gone. Hopeless indeed. I wish Franz Kafka’s ghost would actually be available, but he wasn’t a wizard so anyway...

When I passed my pidgeon hole in the faculty office I saw a tiny parchment roll bound with a green band. I opened it and read: “If you’re free this weekend, we can begin our lessons tomorrow at noon. Research which potions you’d like to learn and prepare their specific names. If you’re unable to come let me know through an owl, as I’m not coming into the teacher’s offices anymore for today. Yours Sincerely, S. Snape.” Ok, that’s my weekend settled then.

On Saturday, I arrived at the potion classroom with a long roll of parchment containing the potions I’d like to make, a thick notebook so I can make notes, and my fluttering nerves bundled together in my stomach. To be honest, I was nervous and this felt like a math exam. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea after all. However, upon entering the classroom, Severus presence calmed me somewhat. I know others wouldn’t feel that way when entering the classroom. Yet, I simply feel like meeting someone familiar. Is that strange? Am I making sense? Probably not.

We discussed some of the potions I had in mind and he chose one of the simplest for a start. He put the instructions on the Black Board and I, as his temporary student, sat at the front table. I felt nervous and it was difficult to not see myself as a teenager again. Here and there did he tell me how to put ingredients into the pot or how to cut them rightly but apart from that he focused more on supervising. The potion was easy but I’ve never dared to try it myself without equipment, ingredients or someone to look after me. Unfortunately, I also forgot why my self-confidence and trust in potion making has disappeared. While looking at the flask turning a bright green with reddish streaks, I remembered something. It felt like I’ve seen this before. I’ve been here before. I started shaking and my mind went blank. It was like a deja-vu, a flashback to something I’ve completely forgot and actively pushed away from memory. How could I forget the main reason why I’m not doing this? I heard shouting in the back of my mind, my equipment pushed to the floor, glass breaking, a man shouting, screaming in my face and the entire class laughing. How could I ever forget this? I started shaking and the knife, which I used to cut some radish looking things fell from my hand to the floor. My vision went black and my knees became weak. Suddenly, I felt arms around me, heard a voice calling my name from very far away. I looked around and saw Severus with panic on his face, trying to lead me to a bench that was put against the wall. I remember sitting and he giving me a cup of something warm to drink. Slowly I got back to reality and my vision normalised. I felt Severus holding both my shoulders to make sure I don’t fall to the floor. When it came to me what happened, I only muttered an apology and held my face in my hands. He didn’t say anything for a while, put his long coat over me and then proceeded to finish the potion and put the equipment away. He then returned to my side still silent. After some minutes, he asked: “How are you?”

I was embarrassed and felt nothing but shame. I apologised again and stood up wanting to leave the classroom but he stopped me in saying: “Please don’t leave. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can simply forget that happened or not. That is your choice. I won’t ask. I’m not mad. But stay. I don’t think it’s wise to go up all the stairs when you haven’t recovered, yet. I don’t want to be responsible for any deaths in this castle.” I looked at him and he sat, arms and legs crossed on the wooden bench looking towards the floor. I obliged and got back next to him. “I forgot.” I said “I forgot why I gave up on potions. Why my grades have been mediocre or down right only passing. I forgot otherwise I wouldn’t have put you in this position. I’m sorry.” “You’ve apologised two times already that’s more than enough.”

“Sor -I mean. Yes.”

“I can be a horrible teacher. I know that. It’s not a profession I chose willingly, not that this would be an excuse. I know it’s not right. Yet, I never scream. I try to control my emotions at any times and let words speak for themselves. Whoever was responsible for this memory didn’t have the right to do what he did. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You outgrew him.”

“Thank you but… how?

“Obvious when you’re holding your hands over your ears and mutter ‘Please stop shouting’.

“Oh…..”

“As I’ve said: It’s fine.”

We sat in silence for a while and I sipped at my tea. When my spirits came back, I tried to lighten the mood as I always do in these awkward situations: “Are you giving tea to your frightened students, too or am I an exception?”

“My students usually hate and fear me behind my back so I’m afraid I can’t offer them this. Furthermore, it would ruin my reputation. If they want to be cuddled they can go to Minerva with her endless supply of biscuits. No, this is something reserved for grown-ups. English courtesy you might even say. When you don’t know what to do. Make tea.”

“I see. You’re not that frightening to me so far.”

“As I said. You’re my colleague, not my student.”

“Yet, you seem to be nicer to me than to the rest of my colleagues.”

“Maybe. However, I’d argue I’m a role model of courtesy and politeness.”

I chuckled at this “Remus wouldn’t agree.”

“Well, me and Remus have a difficult relationship.”

“He said exactly the same and yet I like you both.”

“Interesting indeed. We’ve barely talked.”

“Just a feeling. Thank you, Professor Snape."

“Call me Severus. No need for useless titles here.”

#tw #anxiety #flashback #anxiety attack #pro snape #severus snape #harry potter #snape x reader #snape appreciation month #snape x female reader #snape x oc

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asofterfan · 6 years ago

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Winter Winds

Chapter 5: Come With Me Now

Previous ~ Next

Summary: Remy blinks, and suddenly Toby has managed to weave himself into their life. And they’re not sure that’s a good thing.

Warnings: Remy’s unhealthy drinking habits

Remy groaned as their phone buzzed next to their ear. They half-heartedly shoved it off the bed, hearing it land with a soft ‘thud’. However the buzzing continued. Sighing in annoyance, they pushed themselves up onto one arm, reaching over to retrieve their phone and unlock it to see a long string of messages waiting for them.

DocOct: Remy

DocOct: Remyyyyy

DocOct: Sleepyhead

DocOct: Do you want a dog?

DocOct: Remy do you want a dog?

DocOct: I have a dog if you want a dog

The final message was an image of Toby, most of his body and face hidden by the large smiling husky he held in his arms, a slight blur around the animal as the dog wiggled happily.

Remy raised an eyebrow, hoping that Toby could sense it.

Sleepyhead: What about me gave you the impression that I should be in charge of any living thing ever?

DocOct: …

DocOct: touche

Snorting, Remy sat up, resigned to starting the day. Looking at the time, they saw it was only a half hour before their alarm was set to go off at noon. They had an appointment at one, so at least that gave them a little time to get ready slowly and get some caffeine in them. Their phone was buzzing again, but coffee first.

Forty-five minutes later, as Remy was walking out of a Starbucks ready to down their second cup since waking up, they suddenly remembered the messages waiting for them. Taking a long sip of coffee, they unlocked their phone to see what else October had sent them.

DocOct: I just want Hermione to be adopted by someone I know

DocOct: so I can see her all the time

DocOct: my boss wont let me take her

DocOct: apparently I’ve “reached the maximum number of animals allotted per employee” :(

DocOct: also I don’t have a yard

DocOct: did you fall back asleep?

Remy shook their head as they typed out a reply.

Sleepyhead: I have a job you know

DocOct: you could still be asleep

DocOct: I literally met you when you were asleep at work

Sleepyhead: you come into MY HOUSE

The bell chimed above them as they entered the shop, Ali glancing up from the front desk and grinning, “Hey, look who’s on time today! If you can manage to do that one more time we’ll have to use two hands to count it.”

“Ha, ha,” Remy drawled, rolling their eyes, “Be grateful I grace you with my presence at all.”

“You’re literally paid to be here.”

“Not enough, I’m not,” Remy winked, and Ali laughed, shaking her head good naturedly.

“Go get ready for your appointment, asshole.”

Tossing their jacket and bag onto the chair in their station, Remy’s phone buzzed again, and they texted absentmindedly as they set up their supplies for the next appointment.

The day passed the same as always. Remy tattooed a watercolor owl on a young woman's shoulder, Brett and Rafa argued in the background over hot sauce brands, Ali harped on Remy to update their portfolio, and Cass got roped into picking up their lunch order. The only thing different was that when Remy’s phone buzzed on their table from time to time, Remy actually responded whenever they had a chance throughout the day.

This fact did not escape Cass’ attention, the petite woman peeking over the dividing wall and between their stations near the end of the night as Remy’s phone vibrated again.

“Someone’s popular today,” she hummed with a devious look in her eye.

“Bitch, I’m popular everyday,” Remy raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge, which she gladly took up.

She skipped out of her cubicle and came to stand at the front of Remy’s station, “Oh come on, you never get this many texts, and you definitely never respond so timely. I once texted you to ask if you could cover a shift and you texted me back two weeks later.”

Remy frowned, “Hey, you gotta earn my attention hon,” they waved their hand dismissively, “I got places to be, things to do. No time for chitchat.”

“You’ve got time for someone,” Cass glanced pointedly at Remy’s phone, “Somebody finally tame the shrew?”

“Ew, don’t use Shakespeare to insult me.”

“I’m not insulting you!”

“And I’m not two seconds from keying your car,” Remy smirked, “See? Saying things is easy.”

Cass rolled her eyes, moving to walk back into her station, “Are you nicer to your penpal, or are they just a masochist?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll wise up soon,” Remy hums with a smile, turning back to their computer. The conversation ends, and both artists return to their work, but Remy is a little slower in responding to their phone for the rest of the day.

Eventually, night falls. The shop is closed up and Remy’s coworkers go for a drink that Remy declines to join in on. As the group disappears around the corner, Remy leans against the wall next to the shop, sighing and pulling out a cigarette. They don’t really know what they want to do. Cityscape doesn’t appeal the way it normally does, but the idea of returning to their apartment makes them pull out a second cigarette moments after finishing the first.

They’re debating just wandering the city without a destination when their phone buzzes in their pocket.

DocOct: This bar is so weird

DocOct: Like SO WEIRD

DocOct: It’s terrible

DocOct: Come join me

The next text is an address.

Remy exhales the smoke in their mouth slowly, considering their options. Their fingers tap anxiously against the phone, and Cass’ words ring in their head. They’re not dumb. They know this isn’t going to end well.

Sleepyhead: Weird bars are the best ;P be there in 10

But they don’t want to go home, either.

~~~~

“What the FUCK Octagon?”

Snapping his head up from where he was leaning against the bartop in boredom, Toby’s face split into a wide grin, “Remy! You’re here!”

“Yeah and I can already tell it was a mistake!” They put their hands on their hips, eyes narrowed, “What the fuck is this place? Why is there weird anime being projected on the wall? Why are there cosplayers? Where the fuck am I??”

Toby laughed heartily, “It’s a popup bar for some anime I can’t pronounce that came out a while ago.”

“Do you watch said anime?”

“Nah.”

“Then why are we here?”

“Well~,” He drew the word out as he smirked, “I’m here, because one of my coworkers and I are playing “popup bingo” and this gets me one square closer to winning a wholesale bulk box of lint rollers-”

“There is so much to unpack there-”

“-but you,” he twirled his finger as he pointed at Remy, not allowing them to detract the situation, “are here because you wanted to see me~.”

That had Remy’s thoughts screeching to a halt.

“That is just, just blatantly untrue!!” Remy stuttered out, pouting dramatically, “I came because you said the word ‘bar’ and alcohol is a thing I enjoy.”

“You could have gone to any bar, though,” damn him and that stupid pretty smile, “but you came to this one because it’s where I said I was.”

FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK

Remy relaxed their shoulders, bringing one hand to rest on the bar and tilting their head to the side, very consciously putting on their best “cool and casual” air.

“I came for the trainwreck,” they smiled innocently, “I haven’t found a reason to stay though.”

They made an exaggerated show of turning around and slowly walking away. Finally Toby sighed loudly.

“Fiiiiine I’ll buy the first round.”

Remy spun back around on their heel, grinning victoriously, “A man after my own heart.”

“Damn straight.”

“Just for that you’re buying me two drinks.”

Toby laughed, not looking particularly perturbed at the situation, “Two drinks but one of them is a beer.”

“Deal,” Remy slid into the seat next to Toby at the bar.

~~~~

“I need to move to a different shop.”

“Like HELL you are,” Remy wasn’t sure how Ali even heard the statement he had muttered under his breath, but she came rushing in from the staff break room, glaring at the taller punk, “You aren’t going anywhere until you get through your current scheduled appointments! You made a blood oath!”

“What? When??”

“Remember that time you were so tired you accidentally stapled your hand instead of the client forms?”

“That’s not a blood oath!”

“You bled for the shop, the pact is sealed.”

“Uh…..” Toby raised his hand slowly from where he stood just inside the front door, drawing the attention of the two tattoo artists, “I can come back later? Patton said your shift ended at seven on Wednesdays...”

“Goddammit Patton,” Remy cursed, “he should know better than to give my schedule out to stalkers.”

“He does.”

“He ships it.”

“And besides” he pointedly ignored Cass’ comment, “my shifts not over ye-”

“Oh yes it is,” Ali chimed in.

Remy whipped his head to look at his boss in betrayal, “Excuse me? Two seconds ago you were talking about how you owned my ass or something so I could never leave.”

“You can’t stop working here,” she clarified, “but you can leave when your shift is over. Which it is.”

“But I’m still doing stuff!” Remy gestured to the sketchbook in front of him.

Ali crossed her arms stubbornly, “You’ve done your work for the day, and you’ve already got overtime this week. Go have fun with your fan boy.”

Rolling his eyes, Remy stood and roughly shoved his things into his bag, “You know, you’re my boss. You don’t have to make dumb excuses when you’re sick of me.”

“Remy-” Ali called after him, but he was already heading out the door.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock, see you tomorrow~,” he sang as he slipped out of the shop.

He heard the bell chime a second time and footsteps jog to catch up with him, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Toby said quietly, remorse heavy in his voice.

Part of him wanted to snap at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to prattle about how if Toby really didn’t want to cause trouble then he should get lost, how he’d been nothing but trouble since day one, how of course there was going to be trouble when he kept showing up and Remy still didn’t know why.

But…

The words died on his tongue. A different part of him whispered that he didn’t really mind Toby’s brand of trouble.

So instead, Remy grinned and bumped his hip against Toby, “~I knew you were trouble when you walked in~”

He barked out a laugh, “So shame on me~.”

Remy rolling his eyes, shaking his head fondly as Toby chuckled. After about a block Toby spoke up, “Sooooo,” he drawled, “Where are we going?”

“What’s with all this ‘we’ business? I am a Goddamn island, hon.”

“Well call me Castaway,” Toby purred, sliding closer to Remy’s side.

“Prepare to starve, bitch.”

“WILSONNNNNNN-”

“Jesus Christ, shutthefuckup!” Remy shoved Toby’s shoulder, cutting off his dramatic wail. Remy ran a hand over his face, trying to look exasperated even as he struggled to hide his smile, “If I let you come with me will you stop making movie references?”

“For now,” he smirked mischievously.

Remy rolled his eyes, “That’s the best I’m gonna get, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Toby’s mouth popped around the end of the word and Remy snorted.

“There’s a club that just opened near River West,” he shoved his hands in his pockets was he walked, “I’ve been planning to check it out, see if it’s worth adding to my nightlife rotation. No reason not to do so tonight I guess.”

The shorter punk grinned enthusiastically, “Cool! Sounds fun!”

“I’m sure it does.”

“Oh! I just remembered, I have to tell you about this rabbit that we got in today-”

The two walked through the city together, crossing the bridge to the west side of downtown as Toby rambled about his day and the animals they received and the ones given to new homes. Remy hummed in response, smoked a cigarette, offered his priceless sass- for free, nonetheless- so by the time they reached the club Remy felt entitled to a little good karma.

What they got, though, was a plain brick building with a single neon sign and a few groups of drunk teens loitering outside.

“Well,” Remy pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head, “I will admit, this is not a promising start.”

“The… the sign just says “Club”,” Toby commented, pointing to the one word neon sign.

“That’s…” it took a moment for Remy to think of a word, “....succinct.”

“You filtered through a lot of worse words before landing on that one, didn’t you.”

“Shut up and let’s go inside.”

The security barely spared them a glance as they made their way in. Remy squinted at the dim lighting, the flashing lights around the dance floor too dull to really illuminate anything. Meanwhile Toby crinkled his nose as he felt his shoes stick to the floor a little, “You said this place just opened, right? How are their floors already so gross?”

“What the hell is this music?”

“It’s freezing in here, did they bother insulating the building at all?”

Remy made a face of disgust, “I need a drink, STAT.”

“Or maybe we could just go somewhere else?” Toby suggested as they made their way over to the bar.

“Not without some alcohol in my veins we’re not,” he pouted as he pushed his way to the front, ordering a tequila shot as Toby stood behind him. “I’m off work, that means I get to finally have some fun,” he paid for his shot quickly, turning back to face the other punk.

Toby shook his head fondly, “You need a hobby.”

“I have a hobby!”

“Drinking isn’t a hobby.”

“No, it’s a game and I’m winning.”

“That’s called alcoholism. Also you still need a hobby.”

Remy smirked sharply, “You can get your own hobby if you have such a problem with mine,” he stared Toby in the eye as he downed the shot, pointedly ignoring the chaser.

Toby held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, “I don’t have a problem with it,” he raised an eyebrow, “I just think you could stand to get out more. Get a change of scenery,” he grinned mischievously, “If nothing else it would make my hobby or tagging along with you more interesting.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives,” Remy shook his head, laughing lightly. Looking around, he scrunched his nose as he took in the mass of people dancing overly risque in the center of the room, “Ugh. How are they dancing to this trash? Moreso, how are they still keeping up the weird sexy shit? How is this bizzare techno-country garbage not an instant mood killer? Allosexuals make no sense.”

“Hey, I’m confused too. I admire their tenacity though?” he replied uncertainly.

“I don’t. I am judging very harshly.”

“That’s your default though. It’s like you have resting judgy face except it’s not just your face.”

“Damn straight,” Remy flagged down the bartender and ordered a beer, “This is not the kind of club you experience sober.”

Snorting, Toby leaned against the bar next to him. Once his drink arrived, they both stayed by the bar, neither wanting to venture out onto the floor. Remy sipped on his drink, and after a few minutes Toby took out his phone and began tapping on the screen nonchalantly. When the first beer was finished, Remy wasted no time ordering another. Turning to October, Remy shook his head and tsked, “You are at a club surrounded by beautiful people,” he gestured mostly to himself, “and you’re on your phone? Honestly, you look like a baby boomer meme right now.” Toby’s only response was to turn and stick his tongue out, Remy giggling as he took his beer from the bartender, “Seriously girl, what’s got your attention so fixed? You sexting over there?”

That made Toby pause, his fingers hovering over the screen as he turned to look at Remy with a deadpan expression, “You literally could not be more wrong about what is happening here.”

Remy raised an eyebrow suspiciously as he took a long drink. Toby rolled his eyes as he turned back to his phone, but his lips were twitching towards a smile. The night was young, so Remy felt fine chugging his beer in an attempt to speed things along.

However, that plan was soon foiled. As he neared the bottom of the bottle, Toby gasped loudly, Remy choking a bit on his drink in surprise. He was still coughing and sputtering as Toby smacked at his arm to get his attention.

“Dude, holy shit there’s a pikachu like two blocks away we gotta go!!”

“Excuse me??”

Toby ignored his bewilderment, instead grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards the exit. Once they reached the door, Toby released him in favor of sprinting down the street. Later, Remy would question what happened next, unable to find any logical reason for why he did what he did.

He ran after him.

Darting down the street, his long legs caught up quickly, allowing him to jog a few feet behind Toby as he raced down the sidewalk. After a couple blocks, he skidded to a stop, Remy nearly running into him as he quickly started tapping at his phone. Panting lightly, Remy glanced over his shoulder.

Pokemon Go was open on the screen, a pikachu standing in an image of the dark street in front of them. Toby muttered softly to himself, “Do not run away, do not run away, do NOT run away…” as he tossed a pokeball at the creature.

Remy’s eyebrows were practically in his hairline, “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

“Shhhhh!! I need to focus!” Toby hissed, tossing various items at the pikachu after it escaped the pokeball a second time. Finally, after a few minutes, the pikachu was sucked into the pokeball and stayed there, tiny stars erupting on the screen at the success.

“YES!!” Toby threw his hands in the air in excitement, “Holy shit! I’ve wanted a pikachu for forever! I have to text Talyn, this is awesome!”

“....what year is this?” Remy stated in amazement, “Pokemon Go is still a thing? What? I feel like I’m hallucinating, like was there something in my drink?”

Toby blinked at him in surprise before grinning widely, “Others may have abandoned their quest, but I never will! It’s not enough to want to be the very best, you gotta work for it.”

Remy snorted, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re a nerd. Like, such a nerd. I don’t even know what to do with this information. I’m going back to the club where people make sense.”

“Oh come on,” Toby skipped in front of him to block his path as he tried to walk away, “that club sucked and you know it.”

“I know no such thing,” Remy crossed his arms and pouting, his face clearly illustrating that he did in fact know such a thing.

“The music sucked and the drinks were subpar and overpriced. I’m pretty sure most of the people there were underage and didn’t even need fake IDs to get in. And you can try to deny it, but you would have left within half an hour even if I hadn’t run off. Your standards are too high.”

Fuck. He had Remy there. “You’re…. Not wrong….” Remy grumbled.

“Here, hold on...” Toby looked down at his phone, tapping a few times before stating, “there's a bar I've been wanting to check out for a while that’s about half a mile away. We can go there instead!”

Remy frowned, “Can’t we go somewhere closer?”

“This place has really good reviews, and I heard they do fun cocktails. It’s not that far. Pleeeeeease?” Toby pleaded, hands clasped together as he bat his eyelashes up at the taller punk.

Rolling his eyes, Remy shoved him away lightly, “Alright, okay, we can go to your dumb bar.”

“Yes!” Toby threw his hands up in success, “We’ll be there in no time, half a mile isn’t that far. And it’s such a nice night!” He gestured to the cool air around them, not too hot or too cold, with clear skies above them. Remy hummed in agreement, as they began walking.

At first they walked in casual silence, Toby occasionally glancing at his phone while Remy lit a cigarette. But, by the end of that one single cigarette, Remy’s boredom and restlessness hit.

The tattoo artist groaned, hunching over in exaggerated exhaustion, “Ugh, we’ve been walking for forever-”

Toby rolled his eyes, “It’s been less than ten minutes-”

“-and we’ve passed like four bars already!”

“-well, we’re going to a specific one, so-”

“What exactly is this place anyway?” Remy leaned over to look at Toby’s phone, but he pulled the device to his chest to hide the screen.

“You’ll see when we get there!”

Remy narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The two stared at each other, each daring the other to make a move. After a moment of consideration, Remy nodded to himself. Then he lunged for the phone. Toby shrieked in surprise, twisting as Remy’s arms flailed around him, batting at his hands and stumbling as Remy leaned his weight on him. Desperately, he tried to scramble away, holding the phone out at arms length, but it was useless against the taller punk. Remy stretched his arm out, snatching Toby’s phone from his hand and quickly skipping away, leaving Toby to regain his balance.

Looking down at the screen Toby had tried so hard to hide, Remy gasped dramatically, whipping his head around to send Toby a look of betrayal, “You were just making us walk so you could hatch a pokemon egg??”

Toby held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, “We only need to go a little farther! And I mean, I was planning on taking us to a bar afterwards, so I didn’t really lie-”

“Yes you did!! You tricked me! Into exercising!!*” Remy clutched his chest with a wounded expression on his face, and Toby snorted as he suddenly remembered that Remy was a theater kid. “Don’t laugh! You dragged me through the city-”

“It was less than half a mile! We’re literally still in the same neighborhood!”

“-and now I’m half-sober! I am half-sober and awake, October! Those are my two least favorite things!”

Seeing that Remy was distracted by his own monologue, Toby darted forward and snatched his phone back, “Alright drama queen, tell you what. Let me finish hatching this egg- which will take like three minutes, maybe- and I’ll buy the next round,” he grinned lopsidedly, “as an apology for deceiving you.”

Remy didn’t think he sounded sorry at all, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he considered the offer. After a moment, he crossed his arms and huffed, “Fine.”

Almost immediately Toby’s grin was replaced with a look of something between surprise and amazement, “Wait, for real?”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “You promised me alcohol, no backing out now. But I swear if that bitch hatches into a rattata you’re paying for my drinks for the rest of the night.”

Toby let out a bark or laughter, “You know what? That’s fair,” he turned and began walking again, Remy swiftly falling into step beside him.

“So…” Remy drawled with a smirk, “What team are you? And I swear to God if you say ‘Instinct’-” Toby laughed, shoving his shoulder as they continued down the street.

~~~

“You’re not allowed to be weird until I’ve finished caffeinating,” Remy stated before Toby could even say hello.

Snorting, Toby slid into the seat across from Remy at the Starbucks he had found him at, “I’m not falling for that, I know you’re never done caffeinating.”

“Worth a shot,” Remy sighed, hiding his grin behind his coffee cup. Glancing over, he frowned slightly at the dark bruises on under Toby’s eyes, more prominent than they usually were, and that was saying something, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“I’m getting some right now~”

“First of all, no. Second of all, I woke up to more messages than usual this morning and also you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re goddamn welcome.”

Toby rolled his eyes, “I’m fine. Just insomnia,” he took a long sip of his coffee before continuing, “I’ve dealt with it for forever, some nights are just worse than others.”

“That sucks.”

He shrugged, “Eh, it is what it is, but enough about that! You didn’t answer my texts this morning!” From there, Toby continued his usual shenanigans- asking Remy about his plans for the day, how his night had been, lamenting the dogs being picked up later in the day because “obviously I’m happy they’re going to good homes but I’m going to miss themmmmm”. He leaned forward to put his head in his hand, sighing about how he needed to finish his book and become famous so he could buy a bigger house and adopt every animal. As he did, Remy couldn’t help find his eyes drawn to the tattoo on his left arm.

He had seen it countless times by this point, the rough text still clearly legible as “28:06:42:12”. Sighing to himself, he set his coffee on the table to interrupt Toby’s rambling, “Okay, it’s been driving me crazy. What are the numbers on your arm?”

Toby immediately gasped dramatically, clutching his hands to his chest, “Do NOT tell me you’ve never seen Donnie Darko!!”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think I have to at this point.”

“Dude! It’s an amazing sci-fi, crime, mystery, scary type movie!”

“You just listed a lot of genres-”

“It’s my favorite Halloween movie. It’s a cult classic!”

“I have a policy that I don’t get involved in cults I didn’t start.”

“I’m pretty sure the Cult of Sleep is just a coma.”

“That’s the goal at least.”

Toby rolled his eyes, smirking, “While your attempts at changing the subject are valiant, it is in vain,” pulling out his phone, he started typing furiously, “Especially since, as luck would have it, I was planning on going to a midnight showing of Donnie Darko next week. And now…” he stretched the word out, clicking a few more buttons on his phone, before grinning widely, “you’re coming with me!”

Remy blinked in surprise, but sure enough, Toby turned his phone towards him, the words “Thank you for your purchase!” on the screen above information on time and place of the movie.

“....What?”

“It’ll be fun!” Toby slips his phone back into his pocket before clapping his hands in excitement, “It’s so trippy! But like, they’re screening the director’s cut, which is SO much better than the theatrical version, because like certain things will actually make SENSE like why would they cut out- I don’t want to spoil anything but like it was dumb how they-”

“Woahwoahwoah, hold up, gurl,” Remy put his hands up to halt Toby’s lecture, blinking at him in astonishment, “What? I mean you- what if I had plans that night?”

“You never have plans,” Toby raised an eyebrow, “you literally spend every night either at a club, at a bar, or at home.”

“Yeah, I PLAN those things!” Remy insisted, “And did you honestly just buy my ticket? In THIS economy? I can think of a million better ways to spend twelve dollars.”

“I can’t.”

“Don’t you bat your eyelashes at me!” curse Toby for making him smile. Bastard. “Besides, you know if that’s after I have work then you’ll have to hang out with me sober, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Me. Sober.”

“Remy you’re sober right now!”

“......”

“REMY.”

“Okay, alright, fine I’ll go to the stupid movie!”

“The AMAZING movie.”

“You’re gonna regret this~” Remy sang as he stood, grabbing his bag to make his way out of the shop.

Toby just shook his head, calling after him, “I’ll text you the details!”

~~~~

“What…. did I just watch?”

“RIGHT??”

“No, seriously, what just happened?? Did he actually travel through time? So none of that actually happened?”

“It happened AND it didn’t happen!”

“WHAT?!”

Toby laughed as the two of them exited the theater, Remy holding their head in their hands as they tried to comprehend what they had just watched, “You said it was trippy but DAMN son!”

“But you loved it, right? Tell me you loved it,” Toby pleaded.

“....Well now I don’t want to.”

“Remyyyyyyyy.”

Snorting, Remy shook their head, “Okay, fine, I…. maybe enjoyed it just a bit.”

“Yes!” Toby threw a fist in the air victoriously, “I told you it’d be fun! And hey, I had fun too, even though you’re sober.”

He grinned jokingly, and Remy laughed along nervously, nodding in agreement and deciding not to mention that they had a flask of tequila in their bag that they had been sneaking gulps from ever since they got off work. It was the only way they could think of to calm the anxious energy that waxed and waned in them throughout the night.

Remy stretched as they made their way outside and Toby checked his phone, “Hey, you wanna grab a drink or something? You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

“Um…” Rey glanced to the side. They really could use another drink, but… “Sorry bud, but I think home is calling. Gotta get to bed so I can stare at the ceiling and reevaluate the concept of time,” they smiled lightly, trying to hide the way their stomach was churning.

It must have worked, cause Toby just chuckled, nodding in understanding, “I feel that. Go get some rest and contemplate existence,” he joked, “Brace yourself for when I make you come over so we can watch it again and discuss theories at length,” he winked playfully, which did nothing to settle Remy’s stomach, an uncomfortable familiarity to the situation.

“I’m always bracing myself when you’re involved.”

“Touche.”

~~~~~~~~~

It became familiar. Remy stopped being surprised when Toby showed up at the end of her shift, or at Starbucks when she was getting coffee, or texted her in the middle of the night. He went clubbing or bar hopping with her, and invited her to movie events at the independent theater downtown. She stopped being surprised, but she didn’t stop feeling a sense of dread. Toby approved of Virgil’s concept, he sent an email full of keysmashes when Remy showed him the final line art, and his tattoo appointment loomed closer.

Every time they hung out, even as Remy laughed and smiled, genuinely having fun with the strange client, she still felt a strange pain in her chest. Each night when she finally headed home, refusing to step foot near Toby’s apartment or let him anywhere near hers, she felt like she had dust in her eyes.

She waited for him to get sick of her shit, for him to ask for something she couldn’t give, for him to stop showing up. But he never did, always looking at her so she could practically see the stars in his eyes, acting like he didn’t need anything else. Remy knew it was temporary, though.

When Remy was with Toby, she couldn’t decided if she felt less lonely or more.

#winter winds #my writing #punk au #punk sleep #punk october #(sleepy hallow)#now we're getting somewhere #alcoholism #alcoholism tw

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sayitaintdoe · 5 years ago

Text

grade8.

The thing I remember most about the eighth grade is white lights. Doctors flashing them from one eye to the other, them obnoxiously beaming down at me from overhead in that godawful fluorescent way that only hospitals can master, the way everything behind my eyelids just sort of burst like fireworks before I hit the ground. It’s a lot of white lights. It’s the most present thing that comes to mind.

When I wake up in the hospital bed, my back hurts and my stomach feels violently angry – ripped up and raw and bearing its teeth. I see my mom sitting by my bedside, flipping through a copy of People magazine and gnawing on her thumbnail in a way that’s very reminiscent of the way I do it. I try to open my mouth, but I’m afraid that words won’t be able to come out. The idea of speaking, of doing much of anything more than shifting my eyes one way or another, makes me ache.

She looks like she hasn’t slept in a few days, eyes dark under the rims and hair sticking out on the sides, cheeks gaunt and lips chapped. She looks absolutely nothing like the Glamazon she typically tries to put forth to the world, and for that, I feel responsible. And yet, at the same time, I feel like a goblin for feeling honored that she would choose sitting by my bed over putting her face on.

“Mom?”

Her magazine falls, head raising and a soft, “Oh, mija,” slipping from her mouth as she nearly crawls out of her chair to get to me, to get her warm hands on my cheeks. “Mija, you scared me,” she coos to my forehead, pressing her lips where she was just speaking. I can feel her tears dampening my baby hairs, and I close my eyes and try not to start crying with her. “How could you do something like this?”

By something like this, she means “stop eating,” and in my defense, it’s not like I did it on purpose. If I wanted to be the asshole that I typically am, I could throw back at her that it only really started when her boyfriend of the season started reaching for my hand under the dinner table and making low comments on how “I’d sure grown up” over Christmas break. I don’t say any of that, though. Instead, I just shake my head back at her and breathe in a shaky breath, and I tell her, “I’m sorry,” because I am.

“They told me they’re going to…” Mom stops for a moment, putting herself together and pulling away. I immediately feel our usual distance ever-so-slightly creeping its way back home. “We have to put you in… in a treatment program, Dorinda.”

My mother is the only person that calls me Dorinda. She is the only person who calls my brother, Sol, Solomon. She claims that those are the names she gave us – for, you know, whatever reason – and that gives her the right to use them until she’s dead and buried. I guess she’s technically right, but it doesn’t make me feel like any less of a ninety-year-old abuela.

“Can I have some ice?” I realize this isn’t the response she wants out of me by the way her eyebrow quirks at a nearly ninety-degree angle.

“You can have some food,” she replies curtly. “Do you remember food?”

I do, as a matter of fact, but the idea of eating any is currently making my stomach churn all over again. I look down at the sorry excuse for a blanket that’s draped over me, pushing myself up enough that I can sit. “I’m not—”

“—I’m getting you food,” and she says it in a way that I know that I don’t get a rebuttal. She grabs her purse from where it’s hanging over the back of her chair. She looks grimly around the hospital room before looking almost pitifully back at me. “Sorry excuse for a hospital. Nobody’s even come to check in on you since noon.” She reaches into the pocket of her purse, and when her hand returns, I see my enV staring back at me. She hands it to me and I have to resist the urge to immediately flip it open. “Don’t spend too much time on it. You need you’re rest.”

She says this like I haven’t been in a borderline-coma for who knows how many days at this point. I swallow down the cotton balls in my throat and nod back at her, waiting for her to retreat from the room with the click-clack of her heels on the tile floor before I’m flipping the phone open and staring at the notification staring back at me on the screen: NEW TEXT MESSAGES.

I don’t bother reading them. If I see texts from my friends Teddy and Joy, I’ll just feel momentary guilt for not calling them first. I immediately go to my speed dial, hitting the number two and waiting all of one and a half rings before my best friend’s familiar, cracking voice is filling my ears and sending tears springing to my eyes.

“Doe, holy crap, thank god.” Preston doesn’t give me a chance to get a word in. “I’m leaving for the hospital right now,” I hear his front door opening and shutting, the familiar scraping sound of him pulling his bike away from his front porch. “I’m coming, okay?”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“I’m not going to break if you get closer, you know,” I say pointedly, because Preston Raimi is standing all the way across my room, pacing back and forth with his too long legs.

His head of curls is messier than normal – which is saying something – and I can tell that he’s trying to keep from shaking. When he burst through the door four minutes ago, the first word out of his mouth was a nervous “hey,” and then he started laughing. He tends to do that when he’s nervous or when he’s scared or when he doesn’t know how else to react.

“Not taking my chances,” he responds, waving a hand over at me. “Besides, you look like a toothpick. Who knows how fragile—”

“—oh, shut up, like you’re one to talk, noodle arms.”

He swallows, rocking back and forth unsteadily on his heels for a few seconds.

“Come here,” I change direction. “Please?”

He can’t resist a good please, I know this for a fact. I’ve known this for a fact since I was five and needed someone else to take the fall for breaking my mom’s Tiffany & Co. wine glass. (Not that I knew what Tiffany & Co. was. I just knew that it as “Mami’s very expensive cup.”)

And, of course, he listens. He teeters forward, finally taking a seat on the edge of the bed before realizing it’s not quite good enough and curling all the way up, his head finding a home next to mine on the pillow. His arm slings around my stomach, which is the most comfortable it has felt since they put me in this place, and his face is buried in my shoulder.

This is how we stay for a few minutes. My eyes fall closed, already coming up with ways to convince my mom that Preston has to stay over.

We’re not, like, a thing or anything. It’s not like that. I mean, we did kiss over the summer. And again, at Halloween. And Christmas. But it’s not like that. He’s, like, my person. Making him be anything other than that would just make everything confusing, and I think we both know that. And anybody who actually starts dating in junior high is embarrassing themselves anyway, and yes, I’m including my own friends in that, because they know who they are. But ever the same, even without us being a “thing” or whatever, this feels right. This actually feels like the only good feeling I’ve had in a really long time, and I’m not ready to let that go.

“Did you tell your mom?”

And just like that, my eyes are open.

He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to. Preston might not have known that all of this was going on with me, but he’s not an idiot, no matter what he leads you and everyone else to believe. He hasn’t liked Ricky since the moment he met him at a neighborhood end-of-summer cookout, and that only worsened when I broke down in tears to him on New Year’s Eve about what had happened over the past few weeks between the two of us. He can put two and two together better than most.

“No.”

“Doe—”

“No.”

“You can’t go home to him.”

“I’m not going home period,” I fire back, and that catches him off guard. He stills from beside me, sitting up a little higher before I’m yanking him back down next to me, immediately missing the weight on my shoulder. “I… I like, have to go to some stupid treatment facility. I don’t know. Mom didn’t get very into detail. But it doesn’t sound like it’s just going to be some weekend thing or whatever, so… yeah. I don’t think I’m going home any time soon.”

Preston’s quiet for a minute, and one minute turns to two. “Then I’m not going home, either.”

I snort. “Yeah, because that’s how that works.”

“No, shut up, I’m serious,” his voice cracks with the words, but only a little. It’s still enough to make my heart stutter in my chest. “You can’t just, like, freaking scare the crap out of me like that and then just expect me to be like, Okay, cool, well I gotta get back to class tomorrow so hope you get to feeling better. I’m not doing that. I already missed class ‘cause I wasn’t focusing and that’s not going to just magically get better now, so. Whatever. If you have to do some stupid treatment stuff then I guess we’re both doing some stupid treatment stuff.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t think that’s how it works. All that’s floating around in my head right now is that I want to kiss him again, but that I don’t remember the last time I brushed my teeth, and I’m not that person. I settle for placing my hand on top of the one that’s resting on my stomach, and I give it a little squeeze. “You’re my dude, P. You know that?”

“That’s why I have to keep an eye on you,” he says, and while I feel like a lot of people say that about me like it’s a chore, he says it like it’s a duty. “Can’t have you disappearing on me, y’know?”

I rest my head on top of his own, letting my eyes close all over again. I’m not thinking about my mom coming back in the room, I’m not thinking about her shitty boyfriend, I’m not thinking about calorie intake or passing out in the bathroom. I’m not thinking about the white lights or the hospital wallpaper. I’m just thinking about this moment, right here. Me and my best friend.

“I won’t,” I promise him. And I mean it.

#gr8 #[[HAPPYBIRTHDAYILYSMLIZ]]

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calligraphist-artemisia · 6 years ago

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Star Searching

Kidge Secret Santa 2018 – for @all27g who asked for “Anything Kidge (But I have a special love towards any AUs where Pidge and Keith knew each other before the Kerberos Misson or fall heads over heels in love without realizing it.)”

I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Pre-Kerberos AU. There were a few things Keith regretting doing in his life, and he was sure that joining Shiro for dinner with Commander Holt’s family would be one of them. That was, until he met the youngest member of the family.

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net, under the username “kishirokitsune”

Star Searching

The last time Keith felt that out of place was during his first day at the Galaxy Garrison. And just like then, he knew the only reason he was there was thanks to Shiro. He hanged back as Commander Holt's wife welcomed Shiro into their home, saying how good it was to finally meet the pilot who would be traveling with her husband and son to a moon of the furthest planet in their solar system.

Matt was at her elbow, teasing her for making such a big fuss about it. “Oh, come on, mom. He's only the best and brightest to have ever graduated the Garrison.”

Shiro turned pink at the attention.

“And you must be Keith,” Mrs. Holt said warmly, turning to him next. “Matt tells me you're in the piloting program as well. It must be wonderful to have a mentor with such experience around to guide you!”

“Um, well, yeah. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Shiro,” Keith answered honestly. He could feel his anxiety rise from her unexpected interest in him. His heartbeat quickened and he found himself having difficulty properly breathing. “Do you have a bathroom I could use?”

Mrs. Holt nodded and gestured to the nearby stairs. “It's just upstairs and across the hall. You can't miss it.”

Keith thanked her before fleeing upstairs, only able to relax once he shut the bathroom door behind him. He just needed a moment to compose himself. Then he would be able to go back and make it through dinner like a normal person.

“Why did I agree to this?” he asked his reflection.

He knew why.

All it had taken was one pleading look from Shiro and the sadness in his voice when he said that Adam had to oversee a detention and couldn't make it like they originally planned. After that, he'd hunted down the nicest clothing he owned (a red button down shirt and a pair of jeans) in order to join him for a celebratory dinner with the Holt family.

Keith took a few more minutes to get his breathing under control and prepare himself for how overwhelmingly nice Mrs. Holt was (just like Matt and Commander Holt, actually), then he left the bathroom. And while he had every intention of going straight downstairs, he found himself drawn to a wall of framed photographs instead.

It was the perfect display of a happy family. Or mostly happy, Keith corrected himself, noting one of the group photo's included a girl with long brown hair who was pouting. He assumed it was Matt's famed little sister, Katie.

Not for the first time, Keith wished he'd had a chance to save the photo albums his dad kept, before he was sent to the Home.

A faint sound drew his attention down the hall. It wasn't anything strange, except he was sure everyone else was downstairs. Weren't they? Keith furrowed his brow as he tried to recall. He was about to go down and find out, when he heard the sound of something falling and a pained groan.

Keith reacted before he could stop to think his actions through, barging through the half-open door to find the girl from the photographs sitting on the floor, rubbing her shin. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, her eyes wide.

At her side, an all-white dog stood up and fiercely wagged its tail before bounding towards him. Keith lifted his arms to protect his face from what he was sure was an attack, but all the dog did was stop in front of him and whine, pawing at his leg for attention.

“Bae Bae!” scolded the girl.

Keith slowly lowered his hands for the dog to sniff and was rewarded with a series of very wet licks from his fingertips to his wrist. He grinned at the overly affectionate dog, relieved that he wouldn't have to explain to Shiro how he got injured. He glanced up at the girl – Katie, he reminded himself – to find her staring at him, her expression unreadable.

He flushed with embarrassment. He could only imagine what it looked like to her. He was some stranger who came into her room without permission and then proceeded to ignore her in favor of her dog, who was only too happy to soak up all of the attention he was willing to give.

“Sorry,” Keith blurted out. “I, uh, thought I heard something fall, so I came to make sure everything's alright.”

She stared at him for a moment longer. “You're Shiro's friend? Kev- no, Keith?”

He relaxed a little. “Yeah. You're Matt's sister, Katie, right? Are you okay?”

Awkward.

It was all so awkward. The stilted conversation. Keith wished he could do something ridiculous like sink through the floor or transport back in time to stop himself from running into her room.

He barely heard her reply as he glanced around, almost immediately narrowing in on the telescope at her window. “Is that the Ouranos III? I didn't know you could get that outside of the Garrison.”

Katie stopped talking mid-sentence, following his gaze. There was a moment of hesitation before she answered. “Technically, I'm not supposed to have it. Dad brought it home as part of his personal research equipment a few years ago, but since he's helping test the new Ouranos IV, he let me use that one. You have a good eye.”

Keith shrugged. “I like looking at the stars. Knowing which telescopes give me the best view just felt like a natural part of that.” He paused, unsure of how much more to say, but with Katie looking up at him with a tiny smile, he pressed on. “Pops bought me an Orion growing up and we'd spend every night we could mapping out the stars. I'll never forget that.”

And that was it.

That was all it took for that awkward atmosphere to evaporate. Katie latched onto the topic and ran with it, happily bringing Keith along with her for the ride. At some point, he sat down on the floor with her and let Bae Bae sprawl across his lap, though he wasn't sure if that was before or after their discussion on whether or not the new line of SuperNova 9000's were really worth the hefty price tag.

Time slipped away from them. Keith only realized an hour had gone by when Shiro walked up behind him.

“So this is where you disappeared to,” he said fondly. “Dinner's ready, if you two are hungry.”

Keith reluctantly urged Bae Bae out of his lap before getting up. He sneaked a glance at Katie, and maybe it was just him imagining things, but he thought she looked disappointed by the interruption as well.

They all went down for dinner and Keith largely stayed quiet unless directly asked a question. Every now and then his eyes would meet Katie's and he couldn't help but wonder: had he made a new friend?

A warm feeling blossomed in his chest.

For so long it had only been Shiro, who was as much his mentor as he was a best friend, and quite a few years older as well. To have found someone near his own age who he got along with and actually enjoyed talking to...

He should say something. Add something to the conversation at the table. Ask her to pass the salt. Anything.

But Keith didn't and before he knew it, it was time to leave. He echoed Shiro's thanks for having them over for dinner and then they were out the door, heading to Shiro's car.

“Wait!”

Keith half-turned in time to catch Katie pushing past her parents to sprint over to him. There was a noticeable hue of pink across her cheeks as she thrust a piece of paper in Keith's direction. He took it, momentarily confused by the string of numbers written there, before his brain caught on. “Your phone number?”

Katie nodded, her eyes bright. “Just in case you want to talk some more. You still haven't convinced me that the Nova line peaked twenty years ago and has only gone down since then.”

“But I don't have a phone.”

Katie's face fell and Keith realized too late how that must have sounded to her. “I just mean, um, I can't text you, but the Garrison has land lines for us so use, so I could call using one of those. I'll...” He swallowed, well aware that Shiro was listening in. “I'll call tomorrow. At noon? And we'll figure out a good day for us to talk?”

She was smiling again, so he counted that as a good sign.

After a quick agreement to the plan, they went their separate ways. It wasn't until he and Shiro were well on their way back to the Garrison, that Keith had an idea.

“Hey, Shiro, do you think I could get a phone?”

#voltron #fanfiction #kidgemas #kidgesecretsanta #kidge #pre kerberos au

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elphenfan · 6 years ago

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Christmas fireside fluff for lijahlover

Merry December, everyone! :) A gift snippet for lijahlover, who wanted some Christmas fireside fluff. I hope I’ve delivered but who knows? :)

John groaned as he shifted in his seat. It was a groan born as much of pain as weariness, his body having taken quite the beating in the latest case, one they’d only finished that evening. Christmas Eve.

It was late by the time they’d gotten home, the journey not helped in any way by the seeming flood of people everywhere and even Sherlock’s supernatural ability to get a cab not up to the task, and the flat had been dark and, quite frankly, chilly bordering on downright cold.

When they’d finally made it, the doctor had just about gotten his coat off and made it to his chair, worn out from the case, the trek home and a half-formed argument with Sherlock about how it really wasn’t on for him to disguise himself as someone’s long-lost relative when he’d deduced their history and had still decided to proceed with it.

That it had turned out well in the end was quite beside the point, it really was, no, seriously, Sherlock, I mean it. I’m done arguing with you right now.

The argument and the consequent silence hadn’t stopped him continuing to hold onto the glove-covered bony hand as he always did on their way home, however, and neither had the consulting detective made any attempt to pull away, either.

Sherlock had disappeared into the bedroom once they’d gone through the door. John hadn’t minded, far more focused on just making it out of his coat and shoes and into a seated position; with the chase, the brawl and the walk home in the cold, his shoulder was bothering him, and, psychosomatic or not, his leg wasn’t above making its miserable self known.

He’d told himself he’d just sit there for a moment or two. Then he’d get up and see what Sherlock was up to. That or he’d go directly for the bathroom and take a nice, hot shower…or just get into bed straight away and not wake until noon.

But it was Christmas Day tomorrow, and…they had plans…did they have plans? He felt sure that…but maybe…

He was asleep before he’d finished the thought and long before Sherlock emerged back into the living room, in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

It didn’t take him long to spot John, nor the way he was sitting that was in no way conducive to his aches and bruises. If he kept that up for much longer, he would have trouble moving about when he woke, not to mention the pain he’d be in.

That wouldn’t do. Sherlock had plans for his boyfriend for the night and next few days, and he’d rushed to finish this case so that both he and John wouldn’t be tied up with anything to spoil it.

That and disliking seeing his doctor in pain, too. Obviously.

He stood and contemplated for a moment or two. Then he smiled.

That’d work.

He was warm. Warm in that fuzzy, cosy way that made you think you’d been covered in how your mind insisted cumulus clouds and mounds of snow ought to feel.

His covers didn’t usually make him feel warm like that but maybe he was just extra tired, and his body convinced him that it was the case to get him to stay asleep.

No, wait, hang on. He hadn’t fallen asleep in bed, had he? No, he’d never gotten that far. His chair shouldn’t feel this comfortable. Nor should he feel this warm when the flat was cold.

Waking up further, he noticed that though he was sitting, it wasn’t in a chair and the warmth he was feeling came from three disparate sources; a thick, soft blanket, one he didn’t remember they owned, covered his front, the heat of a blazing fire played on his back, his bare back, and he was sitting on and against a warm, bony yet soft, and extremely familiar body, his head resting against a shoulder.

He looked up, blinking in a concerted effort to wake up the rest of the way.

“Sherlock?” he mumbled as he surfaced.

“Who else would it be?”

“Not something I’d like to con…contemplate right now, thank you.”

He bit the bullet and rubbed at his eyes, waking up hopefully enough to deal with the other man’s shenanigans. “Why are we here? On the floor, I mean, or rug, whatever. Without clothes, too.”

“Your underwear is still on.”

“Forest, trees, Sherlock, and you didn’t answer my question.”

“You needed to warm up.”

As though that explained everything. It didn’t.

“So, the only obvious solution to that was not to put me to bed, draw me a bath or even just throw a blanket over me where I sat? You had to get me out of the chair, strip me, and yourself, get the fire going and place the both of us in front of it covered in blankets? How does that make any sort of sense?”

Sherlock wasn’t bothered by the outburst. He wasn’t even pouting. Instead, he was smiling. A smile that was both endearing and infuriating.

“You were in pain, you were tired, and you were cold. Putting you to bed would’ve solved the coldness and tiredness but not the pain. While putting you in tub would alleviate both pain and cold, the risk of falling asleep is greatly increased in males over – “

Yeah, yeah, okay, fine, I get it,” John grumbled.

He would have to admit that, despite his protests and his grumbling, that he was both warm and comfortable, practically snuggled up against his boyfriend in front of a roaring fire. He even got, once he thought about it, why they were in their underwear; conduction of heat was greatly improved when there weren’t many layers of clothes in the way.

Still, though…he couldn’t quite quell the feeling that the consulting detective had an ulterior motive. Not a sinister one, mind, but something that he ought to keep in mind.

Then again, when didn’t he? If no harm was meant, perhaps he should just leave it be.

Cupid bow lips came down to claim his own in a soft kiss, one which he was more than happy to return.

You do feel better, though.”

To others it would’ve sounded like a confident statement of fact, but John had known Sherlock long enough and had paid enough attention to hear inflections in the baritone voice and there was a soupçon of hesitation and questioning in there.

“I do, actually, yes.” He leaned up for another kiss. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that for a moment or two. Then John started to get up. Or rather, he made the attempt. He didn’t get very far, though, before Sherlock pulled him back down.

“Sherlock, let go.” He tried again, with the same results.

“No.”

“Sherlock, I appreciate what you did. Really, I do. But I’m still tired and we’ve got somewhere to be tomorrow, so I need some sleep.”

“No.”

“Sherlock.”

“No, we don’t have anywhere to be. I cancelled it.”

“What – you can’t just do that, you idiot! We promised we’d be there.”

“They accepted my reason without question and wished us a merry Christmas.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t I believe that for even a fraction of a second?”

“I can show you the text, if you refuse to trust me. I told her we hadn’t seen each other in weeks and wanted to make up for it on Christmas.”

“That’s a lie.”

Sherlock shrugged the shoulder John wasn’t half-leaning against. “A truth with modifications. We haven’t seen much of each other in the last fortnight, you’ll have to admit.”

That was true enough. With the extra shifts at the clinic for John – who’d taken them as much to be sure he got Christmas off as for the extra money to spoil his boyfriend a little – and Sherlock having the rare instance of two cases being equally interesting and so instead of doing one or the other, he’d done both at the same time, they really hadn’t had much time together.

Regardless, I still need sleep.”

You did fine just now.”

“Are…,” John asked, his expression one of smiling disbelief, “are you really saying that you want me to…what? Kip in your lap in front of the fire?”

“Not in my lap.”

“Oh, alright, then. Problem solved, no remaining issue whatsoever!” He would’ve said more but then he got a proper look at Sherlock’s expression and the words died in his throat.

Sherlock was…he was just trying to be considerate. And sweet. And romantic, too, probably, in that uniquely Sherlockian way.

And to be honest, there was something alluring about sleeping in front of the fire and then waking up on Christmas morning like that, together. It would probably also be hell on his abused body and the fire was sure to die down before they woke.

Still…the idea had merits and even it hadn’t, how could he say no in a situation like this?

“One condition,” he said, watching Sherlock as his ears metaphorically perked up, even though he’d never admit it.

“Yes?”

“You find every blanket, duvet, and pillow that we own and bring it here. I’ll put some more wood on the fire and maybe find that bottle of mulled wine I bought earlier, provided you haven’t used in some sort of experiment or other.”

Sherlock frowned. “What do we need wine for?”

John smiled, his eyes sparkling, and not just because of the firelight reflecting in them. Then he leaned up for a kiss, one he deepened, licking his way in and then around, caressing what he could reach.

“You figure that one out,” he whispered when he pulled away. “I’m sure you can come up with an idea or two.”

With that, he did get up then held out a hand to help Sherlock up, too. The bastard grinned, ignoring the hand, got to his feet easily and, more annoyingly, gracefully.

Then he leaned forward and stole another kiss. “I’m looking forward to it.”

One would have to give Sherlock that with a task to do with the proper motivation behind it, he didn’t do things by half.

Every single piece of warm, soft thing in the flat had been found and arranged in front of the fire, furniture moved out of the way to make room.

John couldn’t deny that with it all gathered, quite artfully so, it looked beyond comforting and inviting. It no longer seemed even a remotely farfetched or ill-advised to sleep like this.

In one hand, he held the bottle of mulled wine, sworn to not have been tampered with by the brunet, and in the other, he had two wineglasses. Just in case they’d need them.

Of course, it certainly didn’t detract from the scenario that there was one lithe, gorgeous body reclining on one arm on top of the makeshift bed, looking like a bloody cover model, the warm light from the fire playing over pale skin in patterns of heated gold.

It would be jealousy-inducing if it wasn’t so bloody hot and alluring. Well, that and the knowledge that it was a body only being offered to him mitigated it greatly, too.

If this was his Christmas present, he certainly wouldn’t complain.

He couldn’t help it; he felt his boxers get rather uncomfortably tight at the sight, something which didn’t escape pale eyes, as he could see them travel down his body, stopping at a rather tell-tale angle.

If asked, he’d have expected to get a smirk at that, possibly raised eyebrows. Certainly a comment on the baser needs of humanity, even if it was accompanied by a lustful look; Sherlock wasn’t above indulging in the more carnal side of their relationship, even if it didn’t occur quite as often as John might’ve wished for. It occurred more often than he’d expected, that was for sure.

What he hadn’t quite expected was the intensity of the hunger in them, or the effect on him.

“Get over here,” Sherlock almost growled.

Well, how could he refuse?

I could’ve written more and I know it’s likely cliffhanger-y but it wasn’t meant to be long and I knew it’d spiral otherwise. :)

#johnlock #johnlock snippet #johnlock christmas story #christmas fluff #fanfic #lijahlover #fireside fluff #snippet #gift fic #gift snippet

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 7 years ago

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No Leg to Stand On (1/2)

Note: Well, I can’t believe I finish this thing in a day. This writing streak has been absurd. Like I have just felt an intense need to write all week and hopefully I won’t get burned out over the weekend. Anyway, this was...this one was tough. Though Killian and Emma aren’t be factors into this one, they are constantly brought up and discussed because issues. I think I’ve made some of my feelings about the how Neal Cassidy thing known in this own. So, yeah, some anti-Swanfire thoughts here. I’m really curious to see what you all think of the ending of this one. As usual, thank you @welllpthisishappening for reading a shit ton of text from me. I owe you a shit ton. Summary: At sixteen, Beth Jones is Killian’s pride and joy. She’s gorgeous, intelligent, clever, witty and possibly the most talented swordsman of her generation. She might also be pregnant Rating: T Word Count: 6,900+

It started with a phone call from his stepfather.

Henry Mills was sitting a Starbucks on his laptop after a lengthy conversation with his agent about starting a new book series. His latte (not well made and completely overpriced) had long since been finished, but he was looking to have a moment to himself before he went back home and packed up his and his daughter’s things for when their upcoming weekend visit with his parents. His phone lit up as Killian’s name flashed upon the screen. Henry glanced at the clock in the corner of his computer and frowned. It was Friday afternoon in late July and according to the forecast, it was sunny. Typically, Killian took the Jones crew out on the Jolly and wasn’t necessarily reachable by phone.

A hard feeling formed in Henry’s gut. Something was wrong. Where his mother could detect lies, Henry’s superpower was that he could predict trouble and some strange storm was brewing.

Tapping his fingers against the table, Henry picked up the call while ignoring the dirty looks he gets from the patrons around him. If they wanted peace and quiet, they should have gone to a real coffee shop. There were plenty in Portland.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Hello lad. I’m well. Yourself?” Killian greeted. His voice was a bit on the gruff side, but Henry attributed that more to his stepfather’s advancing age than any real stress.

Henry could not help but smile. He hadn’t been a ‘lad’ in years, but then again, at his age, everyone was probably a child to Killian. (Henry tried very hard not to think of the implications of that.)

“Just finished a Saturday meeting with my agent. She wants me to focus on something else aside from my Once series. I’ve been thinking about doing something in the same universe though. Might call this one Ever After, you know, to keep the fairytale theme to it,” Henry replied conversationally, leaning back in his seat.

“Thinking of writing about yourself rather than your mother?” Killian asked. If someone else had posed the question, Henry would have thought they were subtly accusing him of being an egotist, but this was Killian and he knew him better than that.

“No,” Henry said with a chuckled. “I’m rather boring. I think there are far more interesting protagonists in the world than Henry Mills. I’m still working out the kinks though. My material is a bit on the young side.”

“Speaking of the young,” Killian said. And there it was - the real reason Killian was calling him. “Have you spoken to your sister lately?”

“Beth?” Henry asked as if he somehow had another sister in the woodwork. Considering his life, it wouldn’t necessarily surprise him that much. “Over the phone? Not recently. I mean we text. She sent me a list of cat pirate puns yesterday but that’s about it. Why? What’s going on?”

“Well, officially? Nothing, but she’s been acting real strange lately. Very shut in and quiet,” Killian said with a sigh. “Your mother thinks it’s a phase. Teenage hormones and all that, but I know my daughter, lad and so do you. She’s a firecracker. Vibrant and full of fire. Now she’s just muted. Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t eat. That…that isn’t my daughter. It’s like she’s been replaced by some zombie creation.”

Henry frowned, leaning forward and shutting his laptop.

“Is she sick?”

“She insists she isn’t, but I don’t know. She’s sixteen and I’m now persona-non-grata,” Killian sighed. “I figured if anyone knew, it might be you. You’re her brother and she looks up to you. You don’t have parental authority over her so I figured if she was really in trouble, she would turn to you.”

A part of Henry wanted to tell Killian he was barking up the wrong tree out of some strange sense of loyalty to the younger Joneses, but he was absolutely right. Whenever his younger siblings stepped into something bigger than they should have, they had a tendency of calling him before anyone else as if he were some magical “Get Out of Jail Free” card. He had always helped them and had kept their screw ups under wraps from their parents with the strong understanding that they would pick up babysitting hours if Henry needed them. He wasn’t aware that Emma and Killian had an inkling of this.

“I wouldn’t say Beth looks up to me that much, but I can talk to her if you like,” Henry said after a moment.

“That’s all I ask, Henry,” Killian replied gently. His gratitude was evident in voice.

“I’ll let you if anything comes of it,” Henry sighed. “I will see you tomorrow though.”

“You’re coming around noon with the little one, right?” Killian asked. Henry didn’t have to see him to know that his stepfather was rubbing the back of his ear as he spoke. It was already funny how well he could picture him even when he was miles away.

“Aye, Captain.” Henry couldn’t help but grin.

“Smartass,” Killian said affectionately. “I blame you for the constant sass I put up with. They learned it all from you.”

“I think you and Mom gave more than enough examples for them to follow in that department,” Henry laughed. “But if it makes you feel better, sure, blame me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Killian. Have a good one.”

“You as well, lad. I will see you then.”

Upon ending his phone call with Killian, Henry scrolled through his contact list. He frowned as he went through the ‘B’ section without seeing his sister’s name. He definitely had her number. She sent him random texts constantly. He immediately went back to his messages application and nearly smacked himself. He had forgotten that Beth had changed her name in his phone to ‘HRH Queen Beth of the Seven Seas.’ He snorted, thumbing the name and pressing the call button.

The phone rang twice before it went to voicemail.

“Hey it’s Beth! I’m either busy or ignoring you. You can leave a message, but I’m probably not going to listen to it. Just being up front. Bye,” his sister’s mischievous voice rang out.

Henry snorted again. Firecracker was certainly an optimal term for his sister.

“Hey Queenie Bee, it’s your favorite brother,” Henry started. “I cannot wait to see you tomorrow; however, you haven’t messaged me if you wanted me to sneak any contraband into the Swan-Jones Federal Prison. I’m packing tonight and would rather have it folded away nicely so Mom doesn’t see anything. You know how she snoops. Anyway, call me back.”

Not even a few minutes passed before Henry’s phone dinged in rapid session, heralding a series of text messages. Henry wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. There was something about teenagers that made them prefer text messages to phone calls. He couldn’t necessarily judge. He had been the same at that age. He tapped in his passcode to look at messages.

Beth: Hey. I need a huge favor.

Beth: Major favor.

Beth: And you can’t tell Mom or Dad.

Beth: Bro Code, Henry. I’m invoking the Bro Code.

Henry sighed, debating in his head out he wanted to respond to the messages. He would flat out ask her what was up, play protective older brother and get serious with her or he could play it cool and give her a more humorous response. He bit his lip before typing.

Henry: I’m kinda wounded you think I’m a snitch. Bro Code invocation granted.

Henry: As for the favor, it depends on what you’re asking.

Henry: I’m not buying you beer or shit until you’re 18. That pact is sacred and before your time. Don’t like it? Take it up with the Dread Pirate Roberts

Henry watched as dots appeared on his screen, signaling that his sister was typing back a reply. It took five minutes. The dots disappeared twice before reappearing. He idly wondered if he was going to get a reply with a word count that was worthy of a novel publication. It wouldn’t surprise him. Beth was absurdly fast at typing on her phone. She had the Guinness World Record in the bag if she ever went for it.

However, when Henry finally got her reply, it wasn’t novel length at all. It was only nine words. Nine words that made all the color drain from his face.

Beth: I need you to buy me a pregnancy test

Henry didn’t bother writing back a text. He pounded his thumb down on her name and pressed the call option.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Henry chanted under his breath. His fingers were tapping more violently against the table, loud enough to almost cover the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

She picked up just before the final ring.

“Hey…” Her voice was above a whisper.

“Please tell me this is an elaborate and very cruel joke,” Henry said. His desperation was clearly evident in his tone.

There was a long unsteady silence that followed his demand. Henry strained his ear to make sure he wasn’t missing a sound, but he wasn’t even sure he could hear her breathing. His fingers stopped tapping and he clenched his hand into a fist as his anxiety took hold.

“It’s not,” she said quietly.

“I’m driving over right now,” he stated firmly and began to back his stuff up.

He cursed as his laptop banged against the side of the table. It was a miracle the thing still worked. It was covered in scratches and dents from all the times he and his siblings had dropped it. He remembered quite vividly a time it fell off his lap while he and his sister had been watching the old Batman cartoons when she was eleven – only five years ago. Christ.

“You are not coming here today,” she hissed. “If you show up here, Mom and Dad are going to think something is wrong.”

“Something is wrong,” he bit back. “And they should know. Goddamn it, Elizabeth, what were you thinking?”

“Look, yell at me tomorrow,” Beth snapped. “This isn’t something that can get better or worse overnight. Either I am or not. But Bro Code has been invoked, Henry. You cannot tell Mom and Dad. Are you going to get me a test or not?”

“I will get you the test,” Henry sighed, rubbing his temple. “But we’re having a long chat tomorrow. A long chat. We are talking some Killian Jones length lectures involved.”

“Thanks, padre número dos.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how Spanish works and I’m sure as hell not your father but we’ll save that for the lecture tomorrow,” Henry said, squeezing his eyes shut. Coffee wouldn’t do. He needed vodka. Some serious vodka. And at least a tank of water because he wasn’t young enough where he could deal with hangovers anymore.

The rest of Henry’s evening went in a daze. He couldn’t focus on anything, even listening to his daughter talk about her day at school. All he could think about was the fact that Beth had asked him to buy her a pregnancy test. His sixteen-year old sister was possibly pregnant. He still remembered when she was born. Hell, he remembered changing her diapers. The concept of that baby potentially having a baby made him nauseous.

Before he went to bed, his phone went off one last time, another text message.

Beth: Mom & Dad are on patrol tomorrow morning since they aren’t expecting you until noon. Drop by the house early? I’ll make Bean a cupcake.

Henry bit his lip before typing his response. His heart seemed to ache more when Beth had invoked her nickname for Lucy. She had given his daughter that name before she was even born. Beth had been six and incredibly excited to be someone’s aunt. When he and Jacinda had shown her their first ultrasound picture, she had called the baby “the Little Bean,” which had slowly evolved into just “Bean.” It was just another reminder that Beth wasn’t that much older than Lucy.

Henry: Sounds like a plan. No cupcakes though. Luce doesn’t need more sugar. She’s sweet enough as it is.

Beth: You’re lame. :P

Henry: And you’re possibly pregnant. Now sleep. Big day tomorrow.

The next morning, Henry nearly had to drag Lucy out of bed to get her in the car. She was only ten, but liked to sleep in like her teenaged aunt and uncles. The only thing that seemed to arouse her from her slumber was the promise of two doughnuts and a strawberry coolatta from Dunkin Donuts. He made a pit stop to at his local CVS to buy a pregnancy test and cranberry juice before heading on his way to Storybrooke, blushing violently when the cashier granted him a cheery “good luck.”

When he arrived at his parents’ house an hour later, he found his younger brother Wes sitting on the couch watching a women’s fitness program in his underwear while eating directly from a box of cheerios. He looked incredibly hungover and stared bleary eyed as Henry walked through the door with Lucy, who was still slurping contently on her coollatta.

“Mom and Dad aren’t here, Hank. I thought you weren’t coming until noon,” Wes said, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah, well, duty called. Where’s Beth?” Henry asked, feeling a little impatient.

“Probably still asleep upstairs. Why? Are you giving her something?” Wes asked, eying the plastic bag in Henry’s hand.

“Nothing you would be interested in,” Henry sighed. “Would you mind putting on some clothes and watching Lucy for me?”

“Depends on what’s in it for me,” Wes replied, drumming his hands against his stomach and giving him a grin that would have looked mischievous if Wes didn’t look half dead. Henry had seen him down an entire bottle of Captain Morgan and look ship shape the next day. He didn’t even want to know how much alcohol he had consumed last night.

He also wasn’t in the mood to play this game this morning.

“How about this? You have my old room. I know there’s a loose floorboard in there that’s perfect for hiding things. You’re clever and I know you found it. You might even have some unsavory stuff in there. How about I don’t tell Mom and Killian about it and you watch Lucy.”

“That’s evil.” Wes was staring at Henry like he had never seen him before.

“Oh, sweet summer child,” Henry smirked. “You don’t even know what evil is.”

Wes opened his mouth to say something but as he was about to, the front door opened and a sweat-drenched Harrison walked through. He had music blasting in his ears so loud that Henry could actually hear the lyrics and promptly identified the current song as something from the Jimi Hendrix collection.

“Uncle Harry!” Lucy smiled, putting her drink down on a side table and opening her arms to give Harrison a hug.

Henry’s other brother gave Lucy a small smile as he took out his earphones. He looked like he was ready to fall on his knees and hug her back but was also becoming aware that he was creating a puddle of sweat around him and smelled like a locker room.

“You don’t want to touch me right now, Bean. Uncle Harry is pretty gross since he just ran seven miles without his running buddy,” Harrison replied gently, giving Wes a mild side eye.

Wes scoffed.

“It’s a weekend. Saturday is a day of rest. I don’t need to run circles around you every day, Har,” Wes replied with a roll of his eyes.

“You know what,” Henry said, coming to a decision. “This is perfect. There’s finally someone responsible here who isn’t at work or asleep. Forget what I said, Wes. Harrison, can you watch Lucy while I go talk to Beth about something personal?”

“Did you just suggest I wasn’t responsible?” Wes asked, offended.

“Yeah,” Henry said casually. “That and I don’t trust you with my kid. Knowing you, you would teach her how to make a bomb or something.”

Harrison snorted in a amusement both at Henry’s comment and Wes’s following look of outrage. He wiped at his brow while working out the kinks in his earphones. Henry made a mental note to get him some Bluetooth headphones for Christmas.

“Sure. I can watch Lucy. What’s going on with Beth?” Harrison asked as he placed his headphones down on the side table next to Lucy’s Dunkin Donuts confection.

“None of your business,” Henry replied shortly.

“Apparently they’re having a pow-wow that we’re not invited to,” Wes remarked before shoving an entire handful of cheerios into his mouth.

Henry and Harrison both made a face at the display.

“Hey Bean,” Harrison said, dropping a hand on Lucy’s head and giving her hair a firm ruffle. “How about we go upstairs and wake Neddy up, then I’ll take a shower and we get a Rockband tournament going?”

Lucy nodded enthusiastically, grabbing Harrison’s hand and gripping it tightly. Harrison laughed as she started to “drag” him up the stairs. It was comical for Henry to watch as his gigantic younger brother was being led around by his tiny daughter. Harrison was great with her though; always patient and gentle.

“I have a feeling she prefers the Bear to me,” Wes commented as he turned his attention back to the fitness program.

“Well, “the Bear” isn’t hungover half the time she sees him,” Henry said pointedly.

Henry didn’t bother waiting for a reply. He made his way up the stairs, stopping only when he got to Beth’s door. It was closed and he gave it a tentative knock. After yesterday’s conversation, he highly doubted she was asleep.

After a moment, there was movement on the other side of the door. Beth opened it just a crack. Henry could barely see anything inside the room, but what he could see was his sister’s tired green eyes looking out at him.

“Did you bring it?” Beth’s voice was but a whisper as she opened the door wider.

Henry almost shook his head when he saw his sister because he didn’t want to believe it was her. Regardless of what time it was or how she was feeling, Beth was lively and full of spirit. Killian had said it best - Beth was a firecracker; exciting, explosive, loud and stunning. She was full of energy; always ready to slash someone down whether with a clever quip or her practice sword.

The person in front of him wasn’t lively, bawdy and boisterous at all; nothing like the Beth he knew. What Henry was looking at was a shadow of his sister. Beth, who had always been slender, looked now pale and positively gaunt. Dark bruises had formed under her eyes and there were long dried streaks of make up that trailed down her cheeks, indicating to Henry that she had been crying for quite awhile before he showed up. She looked like a paradoxical picture of youth and death; a pretty animated corpse. He didn’t want to believe this was his sister, but it was. All the anger and annoyance he had been harboring since last night seemed to deflate in an instant.

Henry offered her a weak smile and lifted the plastic bag in his grasp up for her to see. He gave it an unnecessary shake, the contents inside dully thudding against their packaging.

“I bought test and some juice in Portland on my way up. I didn’t think it would do us any good if I got it from Dark Star’s. The whole town would know about it two seconds after it was bought and I think the last thing you need right now is gossip,” he said gently.

Despite the softness of his tone, his words seemed to have broken this brittle and sad version of his sister. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she threw herself at him, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping her up. As her arms wrapped around him, Henry’s mind wandered idly back to a documentary he had watched on pythons. He recalled the amount of emphasis that been given on their kill methods and the amount of pressure per cubic inch they could enforce upon their prey. Python muscles had nothing on Beth Jones. Henry was almost certain that his internal organs would be squeezed out by the force of her embrace.

“Thank you,” Beth choked out in a faint whisper that broke Henry’s heart. He ran his fingers through her hair in hopes of soothing her.

Every part of him hurt for her. She was so incredibly young; a child stuck in a precarious situation. Beth had never seemed so fragile and small before, but she did so now. She was looking at him with large green eyes that were pleading with him to be her lifeline.

“No need to thank me,” he murmured against her hair. “That’s what big brothers are for. It’s going to be okay.”

Beth seemed to break a bit more when he said the word ‘okay.’ Her body shook and Henry did his best to comfort her by rocking her gently from side to side.

He didn’t know what he was doing. He was a complete fish out of water. There wasn’t a manual out there for impossibly older brothers and how to handle their possibly pregnant teenager sisters. He kept thinking back on the mere six years difference between his sister and his daughter. He tried incredibly hard not to let that thought continue to freak him out.

“I’m pretty sure that big brothers aren’t supposed to buy pregnancy tests for their sisters, but okay,” Beth wetly laughed.

Henry cringed at the sound. Her laugh was a hollow and empty sound that bordered on hysteria.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Henry murmured, still rocking her gently and rubbing her back. “None of that, okay? Regardless of everything going on, I got your back. We all have your back. You got family, Beth, baby or not.”

“How can you say that?” Beth cried, tears falling off her face and dribbling down Henry’s leather jacket.

Her eyes bulged for a moment and a look of pure horror formed on her face as some dark thought flashed across her mind. Henry could only imagine how awful it was.

“Dad is going to kill me,” she said in a broken whisper. She looked ready to crumble.

Henry’s lips pulled into a tight smile. He has no illusions as to how his stepfather was going to react. Henry knew him well enough to know that Killian Jones was going to blow an absolute gasket if he discovered Beth, his unabashed pride and joy, was pregnant. He would be furious, incredibly upset and disappointed in his daughter, but he certainly wouldn’t kill her. The same could not be said for the currently unknown possible father, however. Henry couldn’t imagine a scenario where Killian didn’t try to run his hook through the unfortunate bastard that impregnated his only and beloved daughter.

“He will not kill you,” Henry murmured, placing a kiss on her head. “He and Mom might be upset and disappointed but they love you and will love you no matter what. It’s not like Mom has a leg to stand on when it comes to teenage pregnancies. At least you’re not in jail.”

As soon as he said it, Henry was hit with the sobering realization that his sister was roughly the same age as his mother when she had fallen pregnant with him. He had never truly thought on it before, but his mother had been like Beth, little more than a child. Not only that, she had been alone. Beth had him and though she didn’t believe it, she had an entire army of family that was willing to do anything to help her out if need be. Emma hadn’t had that. She had been locked in a prison cell with no one to turn to.

This revelation made him swallow roughly as a variety of emotions made themselves known. He felt a strong wave of admiration and sympathy for his mother. Seeing how broken Beth was at the moment made him realize the magnitude of Emma’s strength that went beyond just being the Savior. She had survived prison and given birth to a baby while being only a baby herself. And she had been alone.

That fact seemed to repeat itself on and on in Henry’s head. His mother had been alone. She had been pregnant and alone in jail. And his father had left her there. Henry sometimes thought about Neal and wondered what it would have been like if he had lived, but now all he felt towards him was anger. He had left his mother, the girl who had no one, left alone in jail. The fact she had been pregnant only made it worse. What sort of man did that?

A violent push from his sister cut him away from these thoughts and he was brought back to the present when Beth untangled herself from his grasp with an angry hiss.

“That was not remotely comforting!” she snapped.

Though she was angry, Henry was somewhat glad to see it. She looked more like his sister than the weeping zombie that clung to him. The fact she still had some steel in her bones made him more at ease. Beth was not a weeper. She was a fighter. An angry Beth, Henry could handle, but crying Beth had up him more off than the possibly of her being pregnant did.

“Sorry,” he replied apologetically. “I don’t have a basis for a situation like this. If you don’t mind me asking, who is the father? Well, possible father?”

Beth was quiet for a long moment and Henry was almost certain she wasn’t going to tell him.

“Benny Booth,” Beth sighed, running her hands through her hair and looking positively drained.

A flicker of anger returned to life in Henry’s stomach. This time wasn’t aimed at his sister and her carelessness, but rather at the asshole who had decided to mess around with his little sister. Benjamin Booth was three years older than Beth and though Henry no longer lived in Storybrooke, he was aware of his reputation as a lothario. He had once even tried to steal Henry’s motorcycle. Benny was handsome and charismatic, but was also manipulative and self-serving; the last person Henry wanted being with Beth.

“Ah, Beth, he’s nineteen. He has no business being around you. He’s an adult. You’re a kid. That’s statutory rape right there!” Henry exclaimed, trying to keep his anger out of his voice.

“It wasn’t rape,” Beth sighed, burying her face in her hands. “It was…we…we’re seeing each other…well, we had been. He hasn’t spoken to me since I told him about possible spawn.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Henry was just as surprised as Beth was by the amount of venom in his voice, but he meant every word.

“Henry, no. He’s not worth it,” Beth huffed, looking up from her hands.

“You seemed to think he was,” Henry snipped without thinking.

Beth looked pained at the remark and Henry immediately felt bad.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he said apologetically.

Beth put her palm up for a moment as if to make him stop talking before brining it back to her temple and sighing.

“No, no,” she said, fingers traveling down her face to pinch the bridge of her nose. “You’re right. I did and I was wrong. Look, it happened. Just give me the pee stick.”

Henry almost smiled at the abrupt command. It was signature Beth Jones to be blunt and crass whenever she could manage. Glimmers of his sister were rising from the surface and it reassured him that this situation hadn’t completely shaken her.

He handed her the plastic bag and she immediately rummaged through it, taking out the cranberry juice and the test. She carelessly tossed the remaining bag on the floor and Henry could hear his stepfather in the back of his mind throwing a fit over lack of proper disposal.

She eyed the cranberry juice dubiously for a moment before looking up at Henry.

“What? Did you think I had a UTI on top of possibly being pregnant?” Beth asked with a quirk of her brow as she uncapped the juice bottle and took a heavy swig.

“I thought you liked cranberry juice,” Henry replied hesitantly. “Was I wrong?”

“Yeah, I like cranberry juice. With vodka. But drinking it straight is kinda ‘meh.’ Ah well. I mean, at least it isn’t orange juice. That shit is nasty,” she replied as she took another sip.

“Only you would say orange juice is nasty,” Henry said with a shake of his head, sitting down on Beth’s bed and watching as she chugged the bottle. “Think you can pee on command?”

“That is a ridiculous question so I’m not even going to answer,” Beth responded with a snort, smacking her lips together as she finished the small bottle of cranberry juice.

Silence fell between them. Beth stared at the ceiling, tapping her fingers restlessly against the empty plastic bottle. Henry spent this time studying his sister. The more he looked at her, the more he thought on about their mother.

Beth strongly resembled Emma; she had the same slender built and similar facial features, though Beth’s cheeks were more pronounced and her lips a bit thinner than Emma’s. The major differences lay in Beth’s dark hair, pointed ears and tanner skin. Though if Henry ignored the hair and squinted a bit, he was certain he could see what his mother looked like at that age; the age were she had been pregnant with him.

Had Emma cried like Beth did when she realized she might be pregnant? How long had she been in prison before she started to suspect? Did she feel as resigned as Beth did when she realized that his father wasn’t going to be in the picture? He couldn’t ask Emma these questions, but something told him that she had been a bit like Beth - shocked, hysterical and panicked but trying to keep it all under wraps with small barbs and little jokes.

“How long do you think it will take before I feel the need to pee?” Beth asked, still looking at the ceiling.

“No idea, but I think I know a way to kick start it. I do it with Lucy every time I take her to the pediatrician,” Henry said, getting up from his spot on Beth’s bed.

He opened the door to the tiny little bathroom attached to Beth’s room and turned on the sink. Beth watched him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Think of rivers and waterfalls,” Henry instructed.

“Does that ever work?” Beth asked, not looking impressed in the slightest.

��It does for Luce.”

Beth rolled her eyes and resumed tapping against the bottle. Henry sat back down on the bed and resumed watching her.

If she ended up pregnant, there would a smaller age gap between his sister and her child than there would be between himself and his sister. That realization left an acrid taste in his mouth. Beth was too young and he hoped against everything in existence that she wasn’t.

Emma had been too young as well. The thought kept bouncing in the back of his mind. It was as if everything led back to the fact that his mother had given birth to him when she was only seventeen.

Beth got up abruptly and picked up the test. She looked nervous and lost again. When she realized he was looking at her, she gave him a tentative smile.

“Duty calls,” she said.

He gave her a strained smile.

“Good luck and be brave,” he replied, watching as she tiptoed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

As he watched her walk, he came to the decision that if she was pregnant, he would teach that kid how to walk properly. It wasn’t always noticeable, but Beth talked on her toes constantly to make herself look taller. It was an odd little thing that she did to look on par with the rest of them, but Henry was certain that she was going to fall over and break something someday. No, Beth’s kid would walk properly.

And Beth would not be Emma. That was the firm conclusion that Henry had come to. As he had said before, she had more family than she knew what to do with and they would always help her out. However, even if they did somehow cast her out (and they would have to be brainwashed, cursed or on drugs to even consider it), Henry would be there for her and the kid no matter what. He wasn’t going to allow her to go through this experience alone. He would move her and the kid in with him, Jacinda and Lucy if he needed to.

After what felt like ages, Henry got up from the bed, went up to Beth’s en-suite and knocked on the bathroom door.

“You okay in there, Queenie Bee?” he asked tentatively.

“Just waiting.” Her voice was a bit muffled, but still audible through the door.

“Need me to come in there?”

There was a loud scoff from the other side. Henry could picture her rolling her eyes at him.

“I can handle a pee stick. Thank you.”

More silence followed and Henry waited anxiously outside the door. After a few more moments, there was hysterical laughter and Henry jumped at the sound.

“Beth? You okay?”

Beth opened the door abruptedly and gave him the biggest grin.

“I’m not pregnant!” she laughed before waltzed around Henry back into the room. She began spinning around like she was Linda Carter, arms stretched out and waving in the air and dark hair flying everywhere. She looked manic. “Who’s not pregnant? I’m not pregnant! No Booth spawn in me! Fuck yes!”

Despite his relief, Henry couldn’t find it in himself to share in her excitement.

“Good,” he said firmly. “You’re telling Mom and Killian about this.”

The spinning stopped. Beth looked over her shoulder at him with an incredulous expression. She adjusted herself so she was completely facing him. All euphoric cheering was gone and placed with confusion and annoyance.

“Why would I tell them? I’m not pregnant, Henry. There’s nothing to tell,” Beth said in a hard tone.

“Nothing to tell? Beth, you were subhuman this morning. Barely alive and full of anxiety over just the idea of being pregnant. I don’t know how you would be mentally if that result went the other way. You may be feeling good right now, but I’m not convinced you’re okay. I’m pretty certain you need to talk to someone about this and they need to know,” Henry said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking at her sternly.

“Don’t go Dad Mode on me, Henry Mills. I’m your sister, not your daughter!” Beth glared.

“What happened to be me being padre número dos?” Henry asked, raising his eyebrows. “Look, this was a big deal, Beth. I bought you a fucking fifteen-dollar pregnancy test and held you while you had a complete meltdown. You owe me this because I don’t feel comfortable keeping this from them.”

“Bro Code was invoked, Henry!” Beth hissed. “You cannot tell them!”

“Okay, Beth, Bro Code was originally made between Harrison, Wes and myself. You were not a party to it, so technically you can’t even invoke it. You have no leg to stand on, kid. Also the Bro Code was made with the purpose of keeping Wes from doing completely stupid shit and so that I could somewhat control him. Bro Code has nothing to do with accidental and potential pregnancies,” Henry replied, completely serious. “This…this could have gone south so fast, Beth. And if you don’t tell them, I will.”

Beth’s face was completely red and she looked like she wanted to punch Henry’s lights out. Her jaw was clenched and her fists were balled at her sides. Henry glanced around the room, taking in how many swords were just carelessly lying around it. He pitied anyone who tried to navigate this disaster in the dark. It was a dismemberment waiting to happen.

“I’ll tell Dad,” she said after a moment. “But let me do it on my terms.”

“No. Beth, you’re not doing it on your terms. You’re doing it on my terms,” Henry stated, holding firm. “You’re going to tell your father about this sometime before dinner or I’m going to tell him. And I’m going to be honest with you, if he hears it from me, he’s going to blow a gasket. And it’s going to be worse for you.”

“Fine,” she spat. “I’ll tell him before dinner, but if you tell him before the deadline, I will never forgive you. Now get out of my room.”

“I honestly wouldn’t expect anything else. But remember, tick tock goes the clock, Elizabeth,” Henry said with a sigh as he made his exit.

Henry went back downstairs where Harrison was showing Lucy and Neddy how to play better on Rockband. Neddy looked positively bored with it while Lucy’s cute face was screwed in concentration as she tried to follow her uncle’s meticulous instructions. Wes was laid out on the couch with a pillow over his head and Henry wouldn’t be surprised he was plotting everyone’s death underneath it. He watched them for a moment, waiting for Harrison’s lesson to end before approaching his daughter and placing a kiss on her head.

“What was that for?” she asked, looking a bit confused.

“No reason,” Henry smiled at her. “Just don’t be quick to grow up, okay?”

“Okay…”

It was a few more moments before Beth joined them, her lips still pursued in an angry frown and glaring at Henry every chance she got. Henry promptly did his best to ignore this behavior. If she wanted to act like a brat, then she could act like a brat. It just made him grateful she wasn’t going to be someone’s mother.

The glowering continued throughout the day and every time Henry caught her staring him down, he mouthed ‘tick tock’ at her. When they finally met up with their parents, Emma gave him a confused look when she saw him mouthing it at her.

“Do I even want to know what is going on?” she asked over dinner, watching as Killian and Beth walked outside of Granny’s to have their conversation.

Henry sighed.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he said, following Emma’s gaze and watching his stepfather and sister through the window.

Killian and Beth talked outside for long while. Henry observed as Beth wrung her hands and looked at her feet, fidgeting profusely while Killian looked more and more pained with each word. At the end of their conversation, they hugged tightly and Killian kissed the top of his daughter’s head. Henry was slightly surprised with his reaction. He was expecting a little more anger out of Killian over the situation, but was glad that he wasn’t the one who had to break the news of the pregnancy scare fiasco.

After dinner and when they returned back to the house to watch a film before bed, Killian pulled Henry aside and clapped him on the back.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Killian said quietly. “Thank you for helping Beth out. I’m grateful that she was able to talk to you and get some help. Though I won’t lie, I’m a bit upset that she didn’t choose to come to me.”

“She loves you and she really doesn’t want to disappoint you,” Henry replied. “Don’t beat yourself up. It was a tough situation and I think she was afraid you would disown her.”

Killian scoffed.

“I’m not going to disown her because of some ridiculous boy. That’s absurd.”

Henry frowned. That didn’t sound right. There should be a lot more anger there regardless of the fact that Beth wasn’t actually pregnant.

“Killian, if you don’t mind me asking…what did Beth tell you?”

“She told me how she was having boy trouble with some kid who was trying to blackmail her into doing some repulsive things even by my standards,” Killian responded with a frown. He looked at Henry with a perplexed expression, eyes intensely searching his face. “Why is there more to the story that I need know?”

The corner of Henry’s mouth twitched as rage roared inside of him. He was furious at Beth for lying and putting him in this situation. She had said she was going to tell her father and had deceived them all. More than that, she hafd called him out on his bluff and put him in a hard situation. Henry firmly believed that Killian deserved to know what was going with Beth and that Beth really needed to talk to someone, preferably a professional, about the experience. At the same time, he understood why Beth didn’t tell Killian and knew if he told Killian the truth right now, Beth would never forgive him. He would lose the trust of his little sister.

Henry sighed and a ran through his hair, silently cursing his sister in the back of his head.

“Nothing,” Henry lied. “There’s nothing else to it at all.”

#captain swan #ouat ff #ouat fic #cs fic #cs ff #some captain cobra #little pirates #little pirates fic #my shit #my fic #no leg to stand on #beth jones

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backtothestart02 · 7 years ago

Text

Crossing Borders: Chapter 7 - All About Allison

Completed chap for the first day of @wipweek.

*Many thanks to my awesome beta, @valeriemperez, for looking this over.

Show: Teen Wolf Ship: Stiles & Lydia Word Count: 2,509 Canon Location: (1st chapter) begins near the end of 3x24

Chapter 7 - All About Allison

A quick peck on the cheek had been all it took to make Stiles completely forget about Scott’s repeated instructions to talk to her about what was going on with her. He’d talked her out of her denial once, but she’d clearly slipped back into it. Maybe she’d had a back-up denial plan. Did those exist? A denial in case someone forced her out of the first denial she thought she’d settled so nicely into.

Regardless, the feel of her lips pressed to his skin, even in a completely platonic gesture, accompanied with her hand wrapped around his wrist as she leaned across the console to reach him, successfully distracted Stiles long enough that he didn’t realize he’d been trying to talk to her about something serious.

“You should probably sleep at home tonight,” she’d said cheerfully, just before those oh-so-sweet ruby lips met his pale cheek.

The tone of her voice should’ve set him off, but alarm bells became a distant noise that were easy to ignore whenever she touched him.

“Are you sure?” he heard himself asking after she pulled away. Scott’s bewildered face staring straight at him multiple times that evening was also a distant memory.

Lydia smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand.

“Positive.”

He knew he should probably search that smile, that look in her eyes, that light touch, for some hidden meaning. But he found himself just following the nonverbal order to leave her car instead.

He waved to her when he got to his front door, and she drove away. He went inside, talked briefly with his dad who seemed to know more than he let on, and went upstairs to his bedroom.

He thought about what Scott said and how he looked, how Lydia talked and acted, how he’d been blind to so much because he was just thrilled to be near her all the time.

Then he remembered how Allison’s delayed funeral was just a few short days away.

Did you talk to her?

A text message from Scott. He didn’t answer it. His best friend wouldn’t like the answer.

Talk to her tomorrow.

A second text message.

BEFORE the party.

That one came so soon after that Stiles could have sworn they were sent simultaneously.

He scrambled around the bedside table for his phone, nearly losing it when it went flying – cord and all – n his plight, but he caught it miraculously. As he fell to the floor.

He groaned, rubbing the shoulder that had broken his fall, but texted back anyway.

GOODNIGHT, SCOTT.

He climbed back in bed, shut off the light, and hoped tomorrow’s task would be ten times easier than it promised to be.

…

The next day flew by in a whirlwind.

Lydia summoned Stiles to help her set up for her party at six a.m. that morning. She’d been disappointed that he wasn’t as peppy as she appeared to be, and him pointing out the time didn’t seem to faze her.

The house was decorated by noon, at which point Lydia grabbed some snacks and they just hung out for a while. Stiles indulged her, as he always did, and didn’t bring up the one topic he knew he needed to, that Scott had impressed on him the importance of via text all throughout the day and he’d continuously ignored.

Food set up came later, and Stiles proved helpful with that too. Up until he dropped two glasses of crystal. Which, normally, would’ve sent Lydia into a flying rage. But she forgave him immediately, disappearing only for a minute when she accidentally cut herself in the process of picking up the broken pieces with him and had to go into the bathroom to wash and bandage up the wound.

She was gone too long, Stiles thought. He needed to bring up her behavior recently, how in denial she seemed and how strangely she’d been acting.

But on her return, she recalled her birthday the previous year and how he’d shown up with a massive present that he couldn’t fit through the door.

That had him laughing and smiling fondly at her, and he forgot to confront her again.

When Scott showed up at the party, he knew without even asking that Stiles hadn’t gone through with it. He was all glares as he interrogated his best friend, until finally Stiles felt harassed enough to just go ahead and do it.

And he tried to be soft about it, gentle. He asked her if she was okay, pointed out she was acting a little weird, but excuse after excuse came spilling out of her lips, each of them as legitimate as the rest – I’m just tired, I’m busy, it’s been a long day, etc. etc.

He didn’t bring up Aidan, because truthfully, he wasn’t sure how close to home that hit. There was no point bringing up his own near death, because that had more or less been resolved the first time she’d started acting off.

And then it dawned on him so clearly and so suddenly, he wondered why he didn’t think of it sooner. He berated himself inwardly for just assuming it was all about him.

And so, to prevent her from brushing aside any further questioning or accusations, he gave one suggestion.

“Don’t you think you should maybe talk to someone about how you’re feeling?” he’d asked, exasperated but trying to hold it together.

“Why?” she’d responded on a strained giggle, and he lost it.

In a fit of frustrated desperation, his voice increased in volume, his hands flailed about, and he informed her loudly and clearly of the most heartbreaking truth that was turning her to stone on the inside.

Lydia’s bewildered, horrified, enraged and wide-eyed response to his announcement was almost enough to make him forget the fact that every eye in the party was directed at them. Every guest held their breaths, not daring to move. There wasn’t even a reaction from the peanut gallery. Because Stiles hadn’t hurled an insult at the beauty queen – he would never. He hadn’t stumbled all over himself asking her out in some sort of grand gesture – he wasn’t courageous enough for that yet.

But he had said the one thing that was so blatantly obvious and Lydia had strived to put out of her mind since the day that it happened.

“Your best friend is dead!”

He regretted the words the moment they slipped past his lips, but there was no taking them back, especially not with the whole school staring at them.

He took a step toward her, but she recoiled, taking two steps back.

Unfortunately, those two steps were enough to send her crashing into the pool, tray of champagne in one hand and higher than high heels on her feet.

Gasps and laughter did follow that interaction, but no one immediately went to her aid when she surfaced shortly after, pushing her soaking strawberry blonde locks to the side of her face as she did. By the time Stiles recovered from the unexpected turn of events and started towards her, she held up her hand and shot daggers at him with her eyes.

“Stiles, don’t,” she warned, and he didn’t.

Not quite so targeted as his best friend, Scott went to her and helped her the rest of the way out of the pool. Reluctantly, she let him.

“You’re guilty by association, McCall,” she informed him.

He nodded and avoided Stiles’ look of betrayal. “I know.”

In that moment, he knew he should’ve told her that confronting her had been his idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to. She needed to calm down. Finding out the origin of the accusation, whether it had been delivered as he’d intended or not, would only enrage her further.

“And not just with that one,” she said, refusing to say Stiles’ name out loud against so soon.

Scott stopped walking when they were a safe distance away from the pool and the chatter of party guests and music had resumed. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you…”

“You didn’t save her,” she said numbly, sending shock waves through him, developing a cold sweat all over his skin.

He didn’t stop her when she untangled herself from him. He let her go and finally let his gaze travel back to Stiles, who now looked as broken as she did.

The two boys watched Lydia retreat to her room, then walked into the living room together.

After a few long minutes of dwelling on the situation and feeling more exhausted than ever, Stiles looked over at his best friend.

“We should probably—”

“Not yet, Stiles.” He paused. “She needs time.”

Reluctantly, Stiles sank back into his chair, tapping his finger in a rhythmic pattern along the plush arm of it.

“What did she say to you?” he asked finally, softly, unsure if he should be doing it.

The endless silence was deafening.

“She blamed me for Allison’s death.”

Stiles’ face paled. “Oh, Scott.” He sat up and leaned towards his friend. “Scott, you know you did everything you could. You know—”

“I know.” Scott’s eyes blazed and then he forced himself to relax. “She’s just lashing out.”

Stiles sank back into this chair.

“You’re both grieving Allison,” he said. Scott looked up at him. “I mean, I am too. Everyone is. But…Scott, she was the love of your life and Lydia’s best friend.” He paused and pursed his lips. “Maybe… Maybe you should be the one to tell her what to do.”

“I don’t think anyone should be telling her—”

“Suggest then,” he corrected himself. “Maybe your mom? Maybe the two of you could…?” A thought occurred to him, and his eyes widened. “Have you… Have you talked to anyone about Allison, Scott?”

Scott shook his head a little, avoiding the worried gaze Stiles impressed upon him.

“I cried with my mom a little,” he admitted. “But I never talked about it. Allison and I broke up… I was started something with Kira, she was with Isaac, but…”

“You never stopped loving her,” Stiles finished, his heart suddenly aching for his best friend.

Scott shook his head.

“I haven’t seen her dad since it happened. Isaac has basically disappeared off the face of the earth. He wasn’t in any of our last classes this week. And Kira…” He sighed and pressed two fingers to his forehead. “We were starting something, Stiles.” He looked up at him with tears in his eyes. “And it was going to be great. But now…all I can think about is how on Allison’s dying breath she told me she still loved me, and I was too consumed with grief knowing that she was really going to die…that I didn’t say it back. And now…I never can again.”

Stiles got up from his chair, came and sat beside Scott and hugged him.

…

Some time later, Lydia heard a knock on her door. Curled up in the fetal position on her bed, exhausted from crying, the tears still damp on her cheeks, she barely found the strength to respond.

“Go away.”

“It’s Scott,” the person on the other side of the door said, which didn’t make her feel any more inclined to open it for him or give him the time of day. “Please,” he said. “Just two minutes and then I’ll leave.”

The first thing that popped into her head was to go over the door, give him the illusion that she was going to let him in because she knew he’d hear her footsteps approaching, and then lock the door and repeat her demand.

But then she remembered how she’d accused him of killing her best friend when he’d done everything he could to save her, and the stab of guilt – only recently familiar to her – made her concede to him.

She went to the door, opened it slowly, and looked at him.

In the darkness, she could only see the glow of yellow eyes, which once might have scared her, but now shook her to the core for another reason. There was so much loneliness and heartbreak in there.

So, she stepped back and let him inside.

When she’d shut the door and returned to him, his eyes receded into their normal coloring.

“I know you don’t want to see me, but I just—”

“It’s okay,” she assured him and returned to her perch on her bed. Then she patted the spot beside her and reluctantly he took the seat. She licked her lips and told herself to be brave. “I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. I know…”

“You need to talk to someone, Lydia.” She stiffened. “About Allison.”

“Scott—”

“So do I.”

She relaxed.

“You’re suggesting…?”

“We go to my mom. Together.”

“I don’t know…”

“I haven’t talked to anyone, Lydia. I don’t know how to move forward with Kira, with my life…and it’s eating me alive.”

She swallowed hard.

“I know you told Stiles you were okay, but you’re not. You told him it was just about losing him, but…I know if I lost him, my best friend…I wouldn’t be okay.”

She sighed shakily and closed her eyes, letting the words sink in.

Scott inhaled a deep breath and stood to his feet, heading for the door. She hadn’t responded and she probably wasn’t going to. Not tonight at any rate.

His hand on the doorknob, he turned back to her.

“You don’t have to go with me,” he said. To that she opened her eyes. “You can go alone, and it doesn’t have to be to my mom. But…she’s a good listener and she cares about all of us.”

The tiniest of smiles appeared on Lydia’s face, and she nodded subtly. Scott mirrored the action and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lydia fell back onto her bed and considered his offer.

It was asking a lot, to be vulnerable like that, and with someone she barely knew aside from her being Scott’s mom.

But if she cared about her…

She’s a good listener and she cares about all of us.

Then maybe.

…

The following evening after being completely unresponsive to Scott or Stiles or anyone else for the entire day, Lydia approached the McCall household and rapped lightly on the door. It was nine o’clock, late enough for dinner to be over but hopefully early enough that it wouldn’t be considered rude to show up unannounced and want to talk.

“Lydia,” Mrs. McCall said, surprised when she opened the door to find the petite girl standing there.

“Hi, Mrs. McCall, I-I was just wondering if…”

Her gaze shifted to the figure that had popped up behind his mother. Scott’s eyes widened when he registered who she was and likely why she was there.

Lydia cleared her throat and guided her eyes back to Melissa.

“I was hoping we could talk.” She swallowed. “About Allison.”

Melissa’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly, stepping back to let her inside.

“Of course,” she said. “Come on in.”

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

#stydia #stydiaedit #backtothestart02 fanfiction #teenwolf #teenwolfedit #crossing borders #chapter 7 #wip week #oldest wip

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swans-and-pirates · 8 years ago

Text

The Art of Remembering (2/?)

Summary: Killian hasn’t seen Emma in months, not since she ran off in the middle of the night. But when he receives a call from the hospital informing him that she’s been in an accident he rushes to be by her side. Nervous and anxious to see her again he’s not sure what to expect—but he definitely doesn’t anticipate that upon waking she would have no idea who he is. Modern au

Word Count: 3,000

Rating: T

Also on: ff.net, ao3

Catch up: one

a/n: I was blown away by the response this got! Thank you to everyone that read, reviewed, liked, rebloged, commented etc. I hope you enjoy this next chapter

Disoriented doesn’t even scratch the surface of what Emma is feeling right now. To wake up in a hospital bed barely able to move and not knowing how you got there is one thing. Being told that there are actual years of your life you can’t remember is another.

So no, disoriented doesn’t even cover it.

Not to mention that she suspects that whatever painkillers she’s on are starting to wear off. Moving even an inch sends bursts of pain blazing through her entire body, especially her torso.

She does her best not to move too much and spends who knows how long staring at the ceiling trying to recall the last thing she does remember. But everything is too fuzzy in her brain at the moment to pinpoint an exact memory, and thinking about it makes her head ache.

Huffing in frustration she decides that maybe it’ll be easier to focus on what she doesn’t remember instead. She doesn’t remember the accident. But she thinks that’s pretty common, and that even people who don’t have amnesia sometimes wake up in hospitals and don’t know how they got there.

What’s not usual though is that she doesn’t remember ever living in Boston—well that’s not entirely true. She did live here for a brief two months in one of her foster homes growing up, but that hardly counts.

Besides her current situation, she also is quite certain that she doesn’t remember the handsome stranger she woke up to.

No. She’s definitely certain she doesn’t remember him. She can’t imagine forgetting a face like that.

Except she did, apparently.

Killian. That’s what he’d said his name was. And from the way he’d looked at her—with those stormy, ocean eyes—she got the feeling that maybe she was important to him, or perhaps he was important to her. He’d certainly seemed devastated when she didn’t know who he was.

But it’s been an hour at least since the doctor talked to her, and if she were important to him wouldn’t he have come back by now?

Not that she cares. Technically she doesn’t even know him.

The nurse comes in just then, interrupting her thoughts. The woman is kind as she asks how Emma is doing and checks her vitals. Thankfully she gives her another dose of painkillers and promises that she should feel relief soon.

It’s just as the nurse is finishing up that Emma hears a quiet knock at the door. Looking up she sees Killian as he takes a few slow and cautious steps into her room. He stands off to the side with his hands behind his back and waits as the nurse completes her tasks and leaves the room.

The soft click of the door shutting echoes through the quiet room, amplifying the silence between them, but Emma doesn’t want to be the first to say anything. Because what do you say to someone you’re supposed to know but don’t?

Killian fidgets back and forth on his feet for a moment before he finally breaks the silence. “How are you feeling, Swan?”

The way his accent wraps around each syllable sends tiny butterflies to her stomach that she does her best to ignore.

She gives him a small shrug and a wry smile. “Oh you know, like I got hit by a truck or something.”

His eyebrows lift and he chuckles without humor. “Aye, well that’s fairly accurate I must say.” He takes his hands out from behind his back and fiddles with a phone for a few seconds before he hands it to her. “I went and got your phone replaced. I figured you’d want it. Unfortunately your old phone was shattered beyond repair in the accident, but this has your old number and contacts and everything.”

He scratches behind his ear and looks at the floor before sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, looking for all the world like he has no idea what to do with himself.

“Thank you,” Emma says, eyeing him curiously. “And is your number in here?”

“It is. You can call or text me for anything while you’re in here.”

She raises an eyebrow at that. “Who says I’m going to call you?”

Killian smirks at her, his eyes teasing. “You obviously haven’t had to eat the food here yet. You’ll be begging me to bring you a grilled cheese and onion rings in no time.”

The easy way he mentions one of her favorite meals as if its common knowledge between them catches her off guard, and she finds herself staring at him with an open intensity. Willing herself to just remember who is.

But no matter how hard or how long she stares at him nothing comes.

“Who are you?” she finally asks.

“My name is Killian Jones.” He says it with such sadness that Emma can’t help but feel her chest ache at his words.

“No. I mean who are you to me?” she clarifies.

“We’re friends.” He gives her a small smile that’s anything but happy and Emma finds herself wishing she could remember who he is just to get rid of the sorrow in his eyes.

“I don’t usually have a lot of friends, and not ones that I could say actually know me very well… but you seem to.” She tries not to, but she narrows her eyes at him, sensing that there is more to this than what he’s telling her.

Killian sighs and rubs his hand back and forth along his scruff. “Aye, love. I know you quite well.”

“And… I know you well?”

He answers with a brief nod and Emma looks away, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Because the thing is she doesn’t know this man and as far as she can remember he shouldn’t know her. And it’s unsettling because she doesn’t do this. She doesn’t let people get this close to her. But here is a man that had looked at her with such warmth and such affection when she woke, that it’s near impossible to dispute that he is as close to her as he claims to be.

And to her that’s even more confusing than the memory loss.

She has a million other things she could ask him, she feels like he’s all she has to connect her to this life she’s woken up to. That maybe he can tell her who she is here, and what her life has led to in the time she seems to have forgotten. But she doesn’t get the chance because he suddenly stands and makes his way to the door.

He turns to her before stepping out into the hallway and she finds herself wishing he would stay. If anything just so she can figure out what the hell is going on in her life.

“Get some rest, Swan. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He’s halfway out the door when he stops and turns to her again. “And don’t forget to contact me if you need anything. And I mean anything.”

“Okay,” she whispers so quietly she’s not sure he even hears, but he gives a curt nod as though satisfied and makes to leave again. “Killian—” she calls stopping him again. “I…I just wanted to say thank you… uh for the phone and everything.”

The corners of his lips lift and she finally sees what a real smile on him looks like. “Of course, Swan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It doesn’t take long for Emma to discover that lying in a hospital bed is without a doubt one of the most boring things she’s ever done. The ten channels they have on the tiny television in the corner never have anything good on and despite how exhausted she is she doesn’t have much success sleeping.

She spends most of her time alternating between trying to rest and scrolling the internet on her phone, which is only appealing for so long.

It’s not even noon but she already finds herself wondering when Killian is going to show up for the day. He’d said he was coming but he never specified when, and she’s dying to talk to someone other than the nurse.

She considers texting him to ask when he’s coming, but then worries if doing so would be weird. Except he did tell her she could contact him about anything and they’re supposedly friends, and friends text each other, right?

It should be no big deal, but it still takes about ten minutes of internal debate before she summons the courage to open up her contacts and find his name. It takes another two minutes of just sitting there with her thumb hovering over his name before she finally touches it and presses the send message button and types out quick text.

Emma: You’re right. The food here is horrible…

She feels nervous, which is ridiculous, but that doesn’t keep her from quickly putting her phone face down on the bed beside her just to keep herself from staring at the screen to see if he’s started typing out a response.

The buzz from her phone vibrating happens not even a minute later and if anyone was in the room with her she’d be embarrassed by how fast she picks it up. When she reads his reply she finds herself smiling in spite of herself.

Killian: Ah I told you, Swan. The jello not to your liking?

Emma: I mean I can save you some if you want, but I believe I was promised a grilled cheese and some onion rings.

Killian: Hmmm I don’t recall promising such a thing but I guess I can manage swinging by somewhere to pick you up something ;)

Emma snorts at his use of the old emoji and types out a long snarky response only to delete it and go with something much simpler instead.

Emma: Good.

He doesn’t answer again and she deliberates just letting the conversation drop, but she does still want to know when he’s coming.

Emma: When do you think you’ll be here?

The three dots at the bottom of the screen appear and disappear only to appear again. It repeats this pattern two more times before his answer pops up.

Killian: Miss me already?

Emma rolls her eyes. He’s not lacking in the self-confidence department that’s for sure and she files that piece of information away with what little else she knows about him.

Emma: Nah. Just hungry.

Killian: I’ll be there in about an hour, love.

Emma: Okay, see you then.

—-CS—-

“What’cha smiling at Jones?”

Killian looks up from his phone to see Will Scarlet stepping off one of the boats at the harbor and onto the docks. He begins tying the boat to one of the cleats, but he keeps looking at Killian with raised brows as though waiting for an answer.

Killian shakes his head and puts his phone in his pocket. “You’re bloody infuriating, you know that Scarlet?”

Will just shrugs off-handedly and double checks the knot he’s tied before standing up and brushing his hands off on his pants. “That looked an awful lot like an Emma smile to me mate, and I ain’t seen one of those in months.” The man gives him a knowing smirk and Killian just rolls his eyes.

“You’re way too nosy for your own good.”

Will shoves his hands in his pockets and bounces a little on his heels. “Ah so it was Emma.” He grows somber then, and gives Killian a sympathetic smile. “How’s she doing?”

Killian sighs and rubs a hand along his jaw. This whole ordeal makes his chest ache and his heart heavy. It’s not just that she was in an accident and has to deal with the pain and burden of her physical injuries healing, but she has to deal with a type of healing that’s going to be way more taxing on her emotionally than anything, and it’s a type of healing that no one can know for certain how long it will last.

He can only try to imagine what she’s feeling and what she’s going through at the moment.

“She’s much the same. Doctor says it will be a few days before she can leave the hospital.”

Will nods in understanding and looks off at the boats bobbing in the harbor for a moment before he turns back to Killian. “Ever think that this accident might be a good thing?”

Killian narrows his eyes and feels his fingers twitch before he gives in and curls them into fists. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He has to spit the words through his teeth and he hopes Scarlet can hear just how dangerous the territory he’s treading on is. “She could have died. She almost died! And now on top of that she has no bloody recollection of anything from the last year at least. Please, Scarlet, enlighten me on how this is a good thing.”

He must have taken a step forward without realizing it because Will takes a couple of quick steps backwards, his hands coming up and his palms facing outward in a placating motion. “Whoa there mate. All I meant was perhaps this is a good thing because it brought her back into your life.”

Killian stops advancing forward but he doesn’t relax, every single one of his muscles tensed as he tries to keep his anger in check. “This is hardly the circumstances I’d wish for her to return in.”

“I know. But I mean she’ll get her memories back eventually, right? And then she’ll be here and maybe you can get some answers, get some closure about why she left. And bloody hell you need it, Jones. You’ve been nothing but a miserable sod since the day she left.”

“Yeah, well…”Killian murmurs, shoving his hands in his pockets. He deflates as the anger leaves him, pierced by the reminder that she left in the first place. If he wasn’t good enough for her then, who’s to say that’s going to change now? “I’m not expecting anything out of this. What happens when she gets her memories back is entirely her choice. Should she choose to leave again without any closure as you put it—I’m going to respect that.”

“That’s a bit of a grim way to look at it, innit?”

“I’m doing this because I…I care about her. Not because I expect anything.”

“You’re a good man, Jones.” Will squeezes his shoulder, and though it’s a gesture that’s supposed to comfort him, Killian can’t even smile in return. Will must sense Killian’s need to change the subject because when he continues speaking there is a little more pep in his tone than is usual for the man. “You’ve got a tour coming up in bit. I’ll help you get Jolly Roger ready.”

Killian releases a frustrated breath and runs a hand through his already mussed hair. A tour. He completely forgot.

“Uh actually…” Killian slings an arm around Will’s shoulders and begins walking the man towards a completely different ship than his beloved Jolly Roger. “You have a tour in a bit and you’re not taking the Jolly.”

“Oh no, no, no. I actually don’t.” Will counters, pulling to a stop and ducking out from under Killian’s arms. “I took your last tour. This one’s staying yours, mate.”

Killian sighs. “I promised Emma I would be at the hospital in an hour. I need you to take this one.”

With an exaggerated groan, Will throws his head back and starts walking backwards towards the ship he had just barely tied to the docks mere minutes ago, pointing his finger at Killian as goes. “You owe me, Jones. Now go be with your lady friend.”

In all honesty, he really could use an hour or more out at sea. Let the wind and the salt clear his head and lift his spirits. But he knows if he went his heart wouldn’t really be in it. Not with Emma lying in a hospital bed.

So Killian raises a hand in thanks before he turns and begins the short walk to his car.

#cs ff #cs fic #cs au #cs ff au #captain swan #the art of remembering #my writing

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music-et · 8 years ago

Text

Nu’est Ren X Reader

You and Ren are friends even before his debut with Nu’est in 2012. Ever since his debut he’s been busy and you haven’t seen him since and one day you meet him again backstage for your brother’s comeback stage on M! Countdown with his group Seventeen. What could happen? Will love blossom or disappear?

I’m sorry if it seems a bit all over the place but I swear it gets better…hopefully…

3rd Person P.O.V

~20 years ago~

A pair of twins was born into the world, Choi (Y/N) and Choi Seungcheol. A pair of twins 5 minutes apart. Seungcheol was the younger twin and (Y/N) was the older twin, but, Seungcheol always acted like the older twin, he protected his sister from bullies and from boys who would go after her, he chased them all away. He took up taekwondo along with his sister and even though she was more skilled than him but he always wanted to protect her, but then, he left to pursue his dream, becoming an idol.

He trained for days, weeks, months and years to accomplish his dream. You, as his sister, supported him, helped him through tough times. You went to school and completed middle school and high school and you were in your second year of college majoring in (Subject).

~How You Met Seventeen @ 19 years old~

You were on your way home when you got a phone call from Seungcheol.

(Y/N): Yeoboseyo?

Seungcheol (S): Ne, Yeoboseyo noona.

(Y/N): What do you want Seungcheol?

S: I forgot my lunch at home, could you get it for me please?

(Y/N): Fine, I’ll be there in 30 minutes

S: Yes! Gomawoyo noona!

(Y/N): Got it. Bye Seungcheol! Have fun practicing

S: Ne noona! Annyeong!

And then you both hung up. You went to your car.

http://dreamatico.com/data_images/car/car-1.jpg

You got it as a gift from your parents on your 18th birthday from your parents, last year. You got home in 10 minutes and went inside to see your brother’s lunch on the dining table. You grabbed it and got back in your car. On the way to Pledis you stopped at the store to buy a couple of water bottles and some snacks for the boys. You walked to Pledis holding 2-3 bags and Seungcheol’s lunch. You went to the lady at the front desk, “Um, annyeonghaseyo. I’m Seungcheol’s noona. I was wondering where his practice room was. He called me to bring his lunch.” You said. “Ah, (Y/N) right? Seungcheol told me. Go up the lift to the 3 floor and it’s the 3rd room.” She said smiling. “Ne, kamsakhmnida unnie.” You bowed and followed her directions.

You knocked on the door and a boy with long hair answered the door, “Annyeonghaseyo.” You both said bowing a bit. He opened the door to let you in, you nod your head in thanks and walked in, Seungcheol saw you and ran over, “Gomawoyo noona!” Seungcheol said. “Ne, are they your members?” You asked. “Ne, line up!” Seungcheol yelled and everyone lined up in a line.

“Everyone, this is my twin sister, she’s older than me by 5 minutes which means she’s our noona.” Seungcheol said introducing you, “Annyeonghaseyo, I’m Choi (Y/N). I’m Seungcheol’s noona. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, we’ll go in order of oldest to youngest. I’m Choi Seungcheol, call me S.Coups. I’m born on the 8th of August 1995. I’m the oldest and leader of Seventeen and the Hip-Hop Unit.”

“I’m Yoon Jeonghan, call me Jeonghan. I’m born on the 4th of October 1995. I’m part of the Vocal Team.”

“I’m Hong Jisoo, but call me Joshua. I’m born on the 30th of December 1995. I’m part of the Vocal Team.”

“I’m Wen Jun Hui, but call me Jun. I’m Chinese. I’m born on the 10th of June 1996. I’m part of the Performance Team.”

“I’m Kwon Soon Young, call me Hoshi. I’m born on June the 15th 1996. I’m Seventeen’s Choreographer and Leader of the Performance Team.”

“I’m Jeon Won Woo, call me Wonwoo. I’m born on July the 17th 1996. I’m part of the Hip-Hop Team.”

“I’m Lee Ji Hoon, call me Woozi. I’m born on November 22nd 1996. I’m Seventeen’s Producer and Leader of the Vocal Team.”

“I’m Lee Seok Min, call me DK. I’m born on February 18th 1997. I’m part of the Vocal Team.”

“I’m Kim Min Gyu, call me Mingyu. I’m born on April 6th 1997. I’m the Visual and part of the Hip-Hop Team.”

“I’m Xu Ming Hao, call me The8. I’m Chinese. I’m born on November 7th 1997. I’m part of the Performance Team.”

“I’m Boo Seung Kwan, call me Seungkwan. I’m born on January 16th 1998. I’m part of the Vocal Team.”

“I’m Choi Han Sol, call me Vernon. I’m half Caucasian and half Korean. I’m born on February 18th 1998. I’m part of the Hip-Hop Team.”

“I’m Lee Chan, call me Dino. I’m born on February 11th 1999. I’m the Maknae and part of the Performance Team.”

“Annyeonghaseyo! We are Seventeen!” They said together. “Waah, what a unique group.” You complimented. “Oh, I’ve bought drinks and snacks for everyone on the way here.” You said holding the bag up. The boys ran to you and gave you a hug and grabbed the food shouted smiling, “Gomawoyo noona!” You smiled back and thought, ‘I feel so old now.’

The meeting formed a new friendship between Seventeen and S.Coups’ sister. Throughout the year you met After School, who became great friends, almost sisters, they treated you like a younger sister. You met Nu’est who became great friends, they treated you like a younger sister, all but one, someone you wished to become something more with. The CEO knew of your existence and didn’t mind you hanging out with his idols and he treated you like a daughter, and in return, he was like a father figure to you and you also helped them model for certain things or appear as a guest in MV’s.

Then a year later Seventeen debuted with Adore U composed by Woozi and choreographed by Hoshi.

~Present Time~

You were now backstage at M! Countdown! In Seventeen’s room watching them perform onstage. When they finished their comeback song, ‘Mansae’. The song was really exciting and you were very excited for their comeback stage and you knew they worked very hard for their comeback. Woozi worked for days to write the song and work on the music. Hoshi stayed up late to choreography the song. The rappers stayed up late to work on their raps. The members practice from early in the morning until the next morning practicing their dance and vocal skills.

Then, they finally had their comeback on September 10th. Then after they performed they ran backstage to where you were waiting, they pulled you into a group hug laughing and smiling widely. “That was awesome!” You exclaimed. You were all talking and laughing when after a while Seventeen were called back onstage for them to announce the winner, even though Seventeen didn’t win they were still very happy and excited.

After they were getting their make-up removed and changing back into their normal clothes. You were talking to the members and responding to the messages when you got a message from Ren.

*Convo Starts*

Ren (R): Noona! :D

(Y/N): What is it? :D

R: Can we hang out tomorrow?

(Y/N): Uhh, sure

R: Great! I’ll pick you up at 12 noon

(Y/N): Okay! :D

R: I look forward to it. Goodnight noona! Saranghae <3 :D

(Y/N): Me too. Goodnight Ren. Saranghae <3

*Convo Ends*

Then you turned off your phone. You didn’t notice the room’s gone quiet until you put your phone away. “What?” You asked finally noticing the quietness. “Who were you texting?” S.Coups asked. “A friend…” You answered. “Yeoja or Namja?” S.Coups asked. “Why does it matter? I’m older than you, is that how you speak to someone older than you?” You asked rhetorically. “I know, but I’m still worried about you, you may be older, but you’re still a girl.” S.Coups said looking down. You got up and put your hand on his head, “I’m know Seungcheol-ah. If I ever need your help, I’ll come to you. Don’t worry.” You said smiling, he smiled back at you. “Ren asked me if I wanted to hang out tomorrow and I said sure.” You said. “Ren sunbaenim asked you out on a date.” Seungkwan said. “What? No! We’re just hangout as friends!” You exclaimed turning red, truth was, you wish was Seungkwan said was real because you had a crush on him but, he was younger than you and you didn’t think he’d date someone older, even though you’re only a couple months apart. “Okay~.” Seventeen said dragging the word out. “Yah!”

~Next Day~

You woke up at 10am and washed up and got dressed and put your make up on and finished at 11:00. You wore a (F/C) cropped top with (F/C) shorts with a (F/C) jacket/cardigan and a pair of (F/C) vans/converse. You had on light make-up and a nude colored lipstick. You brushed your hair out and let it down. You grabbed your bag and you went downstairs. You grabbed some bread to make toast with jam and made a cup of coffee/chocolate/cappuccino. When you finished you watched T.V and then the bell rang. You got up, grabbed your house keys and opened the door and there stood Ren wearing a white top with black skinny jeans and black shades. “Annyeong.” You greeted as you got out. “Annyeonghaseyo noona.” Ren greeted smiling. “So, where are we going today?” You asked as you both walked to his car. He opened the door for you to get in then walked to the driver’s side to get in. “Hmm, let’s go to the park and take a walk around then have a picnic later.” Ren answered. “Okay…Wait, you prepared a picnic?” you asked. “Ne, it’s to make up for missing your birthday.” Ren answered not taking his eyes of the road. “What about Seungcheol?” You asked. “I got Seungcheol hyung something already.” Ren answered. “Ah, okay.” And the rest of the car drive were the two of you talking about random things.

~At the Park~

The two of you arrived at the park and Ren took the picnic basket out and you were both walking together and hand in hand while Ren held the basket. Ren was a couple of centimetre taller than you so the two of you looked like a couple walking on a date having a picnic. You then were started to get hungry so Ren decided to find a place to sit and enjoy the picnic. He set out the picnic blanket and the two of you were eating when an old couple walked past, “I remember when you and I were like that, going on picnic dates, we were so young.” The old lady said chuckling as he husband held her close smiling. The two of you overheard her and blush.

Then after, the two of you packed up and were about to go home since it was getting late, Ren suddenly got down on one knee, “Noona, I know we haven’t known each other for very long but, will you please go out with me?” Ren asked holding a couple’s ring. “Yes!!” You shouted jumping into his arms the people around you were clapping and Ren slipped the ring into your finger, then, he slammed his lips against yours, stealing your first kiss.

~The News~

The news of you two spreading, spread like a wild fire, it was the top news in South Korea. Many fans congratulated the two of you but there were still many fans who didn’t like you.

S.Coups and the members of Seventeen gave Ren a warning even though he was their sunbae he was quite frighten, then again, there were 13 boys there, it’d intimidate anyone. The members of Nu’est and Jason (Nu’est M) gave him the same warning. The members of After School gave him the same warning. Along with (Y/N)’s family and the mangers and the company’s CEO.

~1 Year Later~

Ren and (Y/N) have been together for one year and they were still deeply in love but then, one day, Ren got a voice message that made his whole world come falling and crashing down.

‘Mianhaeyo Ren, but, I’m breaking up with you. By the time you hear this message I would’ve already been gone. Don’t go looking for me. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I just can’t do it anymore. Move on, find another girl that can give you something I can’t. You won’t be able to find me, Seungcheol doesn’t know and neither do my family. I’m sorry, to tell you this way Ren-ah. But remember, it’s isn’t your fault. Also tell everyone I said goodbye and that I’m sorry. Saranghae.’

Ren was with his members and had he had his phone on speaker so everything was heard, his member’s eyes widen and they were all panicking. Ren immediately tried to call her but the line didn’t connect, ‘I’m sorry but this number does not exist.’ The Nu’est member ran to Seventeen’s practice room bursting in the room frightening their hoobaes. “IS (Y/N) HERE?!” They exclaimed. “A-Aniyo. I haven’t seen her ever since our last photo shoot which was 2 weeks ago. Why? Did something happen to noona?!” S.Coups exclaimed. Ren crashed down on his knees sobbing, Nu’est tried to comfort him while Seventeen were standing there shocked. Ren handed S.Coups his phone and S.Coups put the voice message on speaker letting everyone hear it.

When the message played Ren cried louder and the members were so shocked, after the voice message S.Coups suddenly ran, he ran to his sister’s apartment to where his parents were staying at while they were in Seoul. The Seventeen members and Nu’est members followed him to the apartment only to find it empty apart from the furniture. Everything that belonged to (Y/N) was gone and on the table was a note.

‘I’m sorry that you had to find out this way. I’m no longer in South Korea. I’ve already left a week ago. Don’t look for me. We’ll meet again one day and I’ll tell you why. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you early. Saranghae. I promise we’ll meet again. Saranghae.

- (Y/N)’

Everyone broke down, all 18 boys broke down crying. To Ren, it was the worst thing that’s ever happened in his life. All contact was lost there was no way of contacting (Y/N).

Everyone was quite upset and many of the fans were upset to hear that Ren and (Y/N) broke up. Fans around the world tried to look for her but not a trace. No one could find her, even some sasaengs or former sasaengs tried to track her down but it was impossible, it was like she vanished of the face of earth or as she never existed in the first place.

Ren never found a girl to stand in her place, he never dated another girl. He fell into deep depression where the group went on hiatus.

~2 Years Later~

Still, 2 years later, not a word from (Y/N) when one day, Seventeen, After School, Nu’est and the CEO were in a meeting, Ren’s phone rang, he looked at his phone to see it was S.Coups’ mother. “Who is it?” The CEO asked. “Seungcheol hyung’s eomma.” Ren answered. Everyone looked confused including the CEO who motioned for him to answer his phone. He answered the phone and put it on speaker.

*Start phone call*

Ren (R): Yeoboseyo?

Seungcheol’s Mum (SM): Minki-ah, its Seungcheol’s eomma.

R: Ne, eommoni, what is it that you need?

SM: Minki…(Y/N) contacted me.

Ren & Everyone: MWO?!

SM: She contacted me yesterday.

R: Can I talk to her?

SM: I’m afraid that’s not possible

R: Huh? Wae?

SM: She’s gone…She’s dead

R: What?! That’s impossible

SM: She left because she had cancer, a brain tumor. She went to America for treatment, and it didn’t work, it was her last day yesterday. Her body’s being shipped over here within the week. I was just going to invite everyone to her funeral, she’s also got a couple of letters for everyone. *close to tears* But there’s something you should all know. Before (Y/N) died, she was pregnant, with Ren’s child, a baby boy named (B/N). He’s almost 2 years old now and we’re having him fly over with (Y/N)’s body.

R: I have a son…and she didn’t tell me…*crying and members calming him down*

S.Coups: *silence* Ne, gomawo umma. We’ll all go and we’ll take care of my nephew.

SM: Ne, gomawo Seungcheol. I’ll see you then

R: Ne, annyeong.

SM: Annyeong.

*End of call*

The phone call ended and there was silence in the air, tears streamed down their faces, the CEO held his tears back while his artists let their tears fall down their faces. “She’s gone…she never told me she was pregnant…she had to go through all of that because of me…” Ren shouted to himself crying. “She’s gone…she’s gone…and she never told me.” S.Coups cried as Jeonghan tried to calm him down.

~Couple of Days Before the Funeral~

It was a couple of days before the funeral and Nu’est and Seventeen went to Daegu to pick up Ren’s son, (B/N). they went to the S.Coups’ house and when they knocked on the door there was S.Coups’ mum and dad there holding a little boy, he had brown hair and big round dark brown eyes with fair soft skin. He had (Y/N)’s eyes and lips and Ren’s face shape and skin.

http://i01.i.aliimg.com/wsphoto/v0/2021912891/2014-Fashion-Baby-Kids-Infant-Boy-Girls-Head-font-b-Hat-b-font-Cap-Cute-Cartoon.jpg

“Seungcheol, welcome home. Nice to meet you Seventeen and Nu’est.” Seungcheol’s mum said smiling holding (B/N). “It’s good to be home umma.” Seungcheol said hugging his family. “Nice to meet you too.” Seventeen and Nu’est said bowing. “Seungcheol, meet your nephew. Ren, meet your son.” Seungcheol’s dad said. Seungcheol and Ren stepped forward to the baby boy, he smiled at them and poked Ren’s cheek and smiled saying, “Appa~!” Ren smiled and picked his son out of S.Coups’ mum’s arms and held his son smiling burying his face in his son’s body and (B/N) pats his father on the head cutely smiling. He then looked at S.Coups and poked his cheek smiling saying, “Samchon~!” S.Coups smiled at him and picked him up out of Ren’s arm and hugged him. “You’re so cute! You look just like your mum.”

~One Week Later~

It was (Y/N)’s funeral day. Her family, friends and her and Ren’s son were all at the funeral.

The members of Seventeen, Nu’est and After School had read the letters that (Y/N) wrote for them 3 days ago before the funeral.

~Flashback~

Everyone went to (Y/N)’s apartment, the first time ever since the day (Y/N) disappeared. They opened the door to see the apartment still untouched. On the coffee table were 4 stacks of letters. There were a letter for each person and even ones for the CEO, Staff and one directed towards the fan.

Each person went and took their letter.

After School

Dear Jungah/ Uee/ Raina/ Nana/ Lizzy/ E-Young/ Kaeun unnie,

I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you guys about this. I know you may be angry with me, feeling betrayed or that you feel like I don’t trust you enough but that wasn’t the case. I left because I had a brain tumor and that I left for treatment but I didn’t have the courage to tell you, I’m sorry unnie.

Truth is, the reason I didn’t tell you was because I was worried about how you’d react. You guys are busy and I didn’t want to cause you stress or anything. You’ve been there for me and helped me a lot and when I have stress you’re always there for me so for that I’m very thankful. Saranghae unnie <3!!

And, this may be a selfish wish but may be if we meet again in another lifetime I wish we’d be friends again and that I’d be with you to the end this time.

From (Y/N)

After the After School members read the letter they were in tears and they all whispered, “Saranghae (Y/N)-ah, Saranghae…” “I hope so too. I’d love to be with you in any lifetime…forever.”

Nu’est

Dear JR oppa/ Baekho oppa/ Aron oppa/ Minhyun-ah,

I’m really sorry for you to find out this way. I really wanted to tell you but I guess I didn’t have the courage to tell you.

You’re idols and I didn’t want to burden you so decided to keep it to myself. I know if I told you you’d say, ‘It doesn’t matter. You’re more important.’ But not to me, there’s nothing you can do about this so don’t worry I’ve moved on to another life.

I’m really grateful you were there for me when I needed someone to talk to and when I needed someone by my side so I’m very thankful. Don’t feel like it’s your fault this happened to me, there’s nothing you could’ve done that could’ve prevented this from happening. J Saranghae oppa/dongsaeng.

And, this may be a selfish wish, but, if we very meet again in another lifetime, I wish we’d be friends again and that I’d be with you until the end of time.

From (Y/N)

After the Nu’est members read the letter they were in tears and they all whispered, “Saranghae (Y/N)-ah/noona, Saranghae…” “I hope so too. I’d love to be with you in any lifetime…forever.”

Dear Ren jagi,

You’re now a father!! You’d better raise him well. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was pregnant and that I was baring your child, but, I don’t regret having him and tell him I’m sorry for leaving him behind but raise him well Ren. His name is (B/N) Choi, your son. I’ll watch over you as your angel, move on and find another girl to love you and let her give you something I couldn’t give you. Move on, but don’t forget about us and love (B/N) and remember that I love you.

I’m really sorry about this. I wish I could’ve told you earlier and that you didn’t have to find out this way. I know I hurt you a lot when I sent that message to you and left you no explanation so I’ll explain everything to you now. The truth was, was that I was diagnosed with a brain tumor so I left to the USA to try and get better so I decided to leave for treatment but the treatment didn’t work. It spread to fast and it failed and now, I’m here in heaven.

I’m really grateful I met someone like you. You made me feel loved and like I was the only girl in the world. You were there when I needed someone and everything. You’re a very important person in my life. Saranghae.

And, this may be a selfish wish but I hope that, in another lifetime, we’d be together and live together forever, and nothing would get in-between us again. Saranghae.

From (Y/N)

After Ren read the letter he was in tears and whispered, “I don’t want an angel, I don’t want another girl…I just want you noona…I will raise him well…he’s my only memory of you left…Saranghae.”

Seventeen

Dear Jeonghan/ Joshua/ Jun/ Soonyoung/ Wonwoo/ Jihoon/ Seokmin/ Mingyu/ Minghao/ Seungkwan/ Hansol/ Chan –ah,

I’m really sorry. I know I’ve hurt you a lot with this, I disappeared without a trace and didn’t contact you, didn’t let you know if I was dead or alive.

Truth was, I knew that you were looking for me, I knew the fans were worried and were looking for me, but I didn’t say anything, I didn’t let you know if I was alive or dead and for that I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I cause you all so much pain.

I left because of a brain tumor and flew to the US for treatment but it didn’t work and I had a limited of time left on Earth, and even then I didn’t tell you and now I have to tell you through a letter so I’m very sorry. I’m sorry for being such a bad noona but remember I love you, thank you for being there for me, saranghae dongsaeng.

This may be a selfish wish but, I hope we’d meet again in another lifetime and that I’d be with you longer.

From (Y/N) noona

The Seventeen members were in tears whispering, “It isn’t selfish to wish that. I wish that as well noona. Saranghae.”

Dear Seungcheol,

You’re now an uncle! J You’d better raise him well and take care of him or else I’ll strangle you in your sleep…just kidding but raise him well.

I’m sorry for being such a bad noona. I made my dongsaeng upset and disappeared without a trace and let you and mum, dad and oppa worried. I didn’t mean for it but I didn’t want to worry you, but I guess I worried you more this way. I saw you crying on TV and begging for me to come back or let you know where I am or if I’m alive and yet I didn’t say anything, I didn’t let you know and for that I’m really sorry.

I was in the US for treatment and the treatment fail and now I’m gone so I’m very sorry for this Seungcheol-ah, but remember noona loves you and that none of this was your fault so don’t blame yourself and if it was anyone to blame it’d be me. So remember noona love you and thank you for protecting me all these years. Don’t blame yourself and move on and achieve your dream and remember I’m cheering for you.

This may be a selfish wish but I wish we’d still be siblings in another lifetime, but, this time, you’ll be the older one. Saranghae, Seungcheol-ah. You’ve been the best brother I could ever ask for and I couldn’t ask for anyone better.

From (Y/N) noona

After reading the letter Seungcheol was in tears saying, “You’re not a bad noona, you’re an amazing noona. I love you noona, I’ll do it for you.”

Everyone was crying and an hour later they went to Pledis to deliver the letter to the CEO and they called a press conference to read the letter for the fans from (Y/N).

Seungcheol and Ren went to the CEO’s office and gave him the letter and left with tears in their eyes. The CEO looked at them sadly and his hands started to shake when he was opening the letter.

CEO

Dear Han Sung Soo sshi,

I’m really sorry for worrying you and the idols. I didn’t mean to make everyone worry.

Truth was, I left was because I had a brain tumor and I didn’t want anyone to worry so I left to get treatment but the treatment failed so I only had a week left but I didn’t want to come back. I know I could came back and had my last week with them but if I died there while I was with them…it’d hurt them even more and I can’t do that, so I left and spent time in the US until my last day. I didn’t want to die with my friends and family surrounding me while I died and left them behind.

I’m really sorry. But, I have one request before I die, please watch over Seungcheol for me please. Watch over Seventeen, Nu’est and After School for me please. I may be able to watch over them in heaven but I can’t physically help them or comfort them in anyway. So I hope you can watch over them for me and help them and comfort them.

Thank you for watching over me and helping me land jobs even though I wasn’t a part of the company and thank you for treating me like a daughter. You were like my 2nd father growing up, so thank you…appa, saranghae.

From (Y/N)

The CEO was in tears when he read the letter, “I will (Y/N). I will…Saranghae, my daughter.”

The member of Seventeen, Nu’est and After School called a press conference to read the fans (Y/N)’s letter to them, live streamed. Seungcheol read it to them,

Fans

“Annyeong yeoreobun!

It’s me Choi (Y/N). I’m really sorry for you to find out this way. I know you were all looking for me. The truth was, was that I was in the US. I had a brain tumor and was there to get treatment but it didn’t work and now I’m in heaven looking over your guys. It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault and there wasn’t anything you could’ve done about it so don’t worry about it.

I love you guys and I’m sorry for worrying you and for making your oppas and hyungs and unnies and noonas worried and sad and I’m sorry for breaking up your OTP.

I also got news for you all, truth is, is that…I was pregnant, with Ren’s child and I gave birth to a baby boy name Choi (B/N). I know you all won’t accept him but please don’t hurt him he’s our child and I hope you can all grow to love him like I do.

I know they won’t listen to me so remember to remind them to move on and remind Ren oppa to move on and find a girl that could give him something I couldn’t give him. And if you guys won’t listen to me, listen to your oppas and unnies to move on and none of this was your fault and that you guys should be happy.

Saranghae yeoreobun!! If we meet again in another lifetime I hope I’ll be with you guys longer and that we can be friends.

From (Y/N)”

The fans who saw the live stream were in tears at home or with their friends, they cried and cried but they knew they had to follow (Y/N)’s wish and remind their oppas/hyungs and noona/unnies to be happy, “I will unnie…I’ll definitely accept (B/N)…Saranghae.”

~End Flashback~

Everyone walked in to see (Y/N) laying on the alter table with red roses and red petals surrounding her wearing a white dress.

Coffin:

http://i68.photobucket.com/albums/i1/theblackbunny13/H2%20Opening%20at%20the%20Plaza%20Aug%2028th/IMG_1357-crop.jpg

Dress:

http://www.fashionminutes.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/Girdling-Tulle-Strapless-Beaded-White-Prom-Dress.jpg

The priest was there talking and saying the prayer but nothing comprehended in their heads, all they could hear was a bunch of mixed up sounds and tears wouldn’t stop falling down their faces.

Then they went up so say a speech before (Y/N)’s body was laid down to the ground, they chose a representative and it was Ren. Ren who was holding (B/N) put him on S.Coups’ leg and walked up to the microphone.

“I remember meeting (Y/N). I remember the time I asked her to be my girlfriend. I remember thinking and planning to ask her to marry me but, that day never came.

The day she told me it was over, my whole world came crashing down. But I had a glimpse of hope in my life when she told me we’d meet again. I just never thought this is how we’d meet again. What I hoped was that I’d meet her again and that I’d immediately purpose to her so she’s never disappear or slip away but, it’s already too late. She disappeared before I could even see her again. But, I know she still loves me and I want her and everyone to know that I love her, I couldn’t ask for anyone better. I know she told me to move on, but I can’t. I just love her so much.

I love the fact that she gave me a baby boy, I love (B/N) so much. He’s all I have left of (Y/N) and I love him. I am still young so I hope you can all help and advise me on taking care of him.” Ren said and he started to tear up again.

He walked of stage and walked over to (Y/N) and leaned down and gave her a kiss on the lips with tears streaming down his face. He then walked over to (B/N) and picked him up hugging him tightly as his son cried on his shoulder crying for his umma.

The audience were all in tears and then, they put the glass on (Y/N)’s coffin and closed it tightly. Everyone then walked outside as they carried (Y/N)’s coffin and put it in the hole and the people began to cover the coffin with dirt as everyone around started to cry.

~After Funeral~

After (Y/N)’s funeral Nu’est, Seventeen and After School went on hiatus for a while giving them time to themselves and for them to have some healing time. That, and time for Ren to raise his child.

~5 Years Later~

5 years have passed, 5 years since (Y/N)’s death. Some have moved on, some have tried to move on and some just haven’t moved on and Ren was one of the people who just haven’t moved on. He went to (Y/N)’s grave early in the morning to go see her. He had (B/N) sleep over at his uncle’s dorm, S.Coups and the Seventeen members.

He went in his car and drove to the flower shop and bought her favorite roses, (F/C) roses. He then arrived at the cemetery and he walked through the cemetery all the way to (Y/N)’s grave. He put the flowers down on her grave and paid his respects. He then sat next to her grave and talked to her. He talked about everything and anything when a hand touched his shoulder. He turned to see it was (Y/N). “(Y/N)!!” He exclaimed and went to hug her but she put her hand up to stop him and shook her head, “Ren-ah.” She said and tears streamed down her face. “Why? Why did you leave?! “Ren shouted and tears streamed down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. But I had to. It was the only way.” (Y/N) cried. “Y-You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant, you didn’t tell me you were pregnant with my child. You went through the pregnancy by yourself and the labour by yourself while you had a brain tumor. And what did I do? All I did was try looking for you while doing my job…” Ren cried. “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve told you…but I just couldn’t…” (Y/N) said.

The two then began to talk for a while when suddenly (Y/N) said, “I’ve got to go. I’ve been here for too long.” “No! You can’t leave! Not again!” Ren shouted. “It’ll be okay. Move on.” (Y/N) said and she touched his face. Ren’s hand went up to hold onto her hand, he missed her touch and her warmth over the past 7 years. “It’ll be okay. Turn around.” Ren turned to see a girl, she looked exactly like (Y/N). (Y/N) gave him and back hug and whispered in his ear, “Go…move on…but don’t forget that I love you…” and she disappeared, she turned transparent and disappeared in thin air.

~5 Years Later~

Another 5 years have passed, Ren got married, he moved on and married the girl (Y/N) introduced to him at the cemetery. Ren and the girl had a baby girl and the two of them got married 2 years after they met and dated. Ren, Miki, (B/N) and (G/N) were the perfect family but Ren and (B/N) never forgot (Y/N). Miki knew she could never replace (Y/N) and she didn’t mind the fact that she couldn’t replace (Y/N), for she was a fan of Ren and (Y/N).

The fans, Seventeen, Nu’est and After School we happy that Ren was able to move on and get a family. Though, they were quite shocked at the resemblance of the two but accepted Miki like (Y/N) had wanted when she died.

It was (Y/N)’s 10th year anniversary and the members of Seventeen were there with their family and so were Nu’est, After School and the Pledis Staff and CEO. They paid their respect to (Y/N)’s grave every year at exactly 12 noon.

On the 10th year, (Y/N) paid one last visit to Earth. She flew down to Earth with God’s permission on last time.

She flew down and surprised everyone, “Annyeong.” She said as she flew down, her appearance changed, he hair got longer and her body matured more and she had a pair of white wings making her look like an angel. “(Y/N)/Noona/Umma!!” They exclaimed. She touched the ground and was tackled into a hug by everyone, after their reunion they released (Y/N) from the hug.

“Umma…” (B/N) said in tears. (Y/N)’s eyes soften looking at her son, “(B/N), you grew up very handsome.” (Y/N) said and gave her son a hug as he sobbed on her shoulder when she kneeled down. “Gwenchana…Gwenchana…I’ve been a bad mother haven’t I.” she said rubbing his back, he pulled away and shook his head smiling, “Aniyo. You’re a great mother. Saranghae.” He said and gave her a kiss.

“Noona…” Seungcheol said and pulled his sister into a hug. “I missed you so much.” He said. “I miss you too Seungcheol.” And she hugged him back and gave him a kiss on the cheek. And she did the same to everyone, they missed her warmth, her touch, her voice, her smile, everything, they missed her so much.

When she went to give the CEO a hug, she said, “Thank you for fulfilling my wish.” “It’s okay, I would’ve done it either way.” He said smiling.

She then went up to hug Ren, “Ren-ah…” “Noona…” And Ren ran into her arms, he missed her so much, “I missed you…” “I missed you too.” “I’m grateful that you moved on. I’m thankful you took great care of (B/N). And that’s a beautiful wife and daughter you’ve got there.” (Y/N) said. Ren nod but didn’t say anything, instead, he kissed (Y/N), she was shocked but kissed him back, when they broke a part (Y/N) sent Miki an apologetic look which Miki just shook her head and smiled making (Y/N) smile back.

After, she was introduced to everyone’s husbands, wives, girlfriends and boyfriends who she bonded greatly with.

When (Y/N)’s face dropped, “What’s wrong?” Jeonghan asked. “It’s my time.” (Y/N) answered. “What?!” everyone exclaimed. “It’s time for me to move on to the afterlife.” (Y/N) said. “It’s my last time on Earth. Last time to see you.” everyone was so upset but they knew they had to let her go and Ren pulled her back into one last kiss and she gave everyone a hug and then the light appeared. She smiled at them and began to walk towards the light until she disappeared into the light.

~Epilogue~

“Oppa! Ppalli! Ppalli!” Shouted a teenage girl. “I got it! I’m coming!” the boy shouted and the two ran to the park where a big group of people were. “(Y/N)! Seungcheol hyung!” shouted a voice. “We’re coming Minki oppa!” (Y/N) shouted and ran into his arms. “Jonghyun oppa (JR)!! Youngmin oppa (Aron)!! Dongho (Baekho) oppa!! Minhyun oppa (Minhyun)!!” She shouted waving at them. “You’re finally here. You guys took so long.” Said a boy with long hair. “It’s not my fault Jeonghan oppa! Seungcheol oppa took forever.” She complained, making the boys and girls around her chuckle. “Yah! It’s not my fault!” Seungcheol exclaimed. “Whatever…Let’s go play Seungcheol oppa!! Jeonghan oppa!! Jisoo oppa!! Junhui oppa!! Soonyoung oppa!! Wonwoo oppa!! Jihoon oppa!! Seokmin oppa!! Mingyu oppa!! Minghao oppa!! Seunghwan-ah!! Hansol-ah!! Chan-ah!!Jonghyun oppa!! Youngmin oppa!! Dongho oppa!! Minhyun oppa!! Ren oppa!! Jung Ah (Jungah) unnie!! Yu Jin (Uee) unnie!! Hye Rin (Raina) unnie!! Jin Ah (Nana) unnie!! Soo Young (Lizzy) unnie!! Yi Young (E-Young) unnie!! Ga Eun (Kaeun) unnie!! Kaja!” She said and ran to the snow and started to play with it.

~4 Years Later~

At the park in broad daylight, “(Y/N), will you go out with me?” Ren asked on one knee holding a silver ring. “Of course.” (Y/N) exclaimed and they shared their first kiss and Ren slipped on (Y/N)’s couple ring.

~2 Years Later~

It was their 2 year anniversary and they were in the park when a stage appeared out of nowhere and there stood Jonghyun, Youngmin, Dongho and Minhyun with 5 microphones and Seventeen and After School with (Y/N)’s family. They pulled her to a chair and Ren rushed onstage with the other members, “Happy 2 year anniversary jagiya.” Ren said and him and the members began to sing Hey Love.

Nu’est Hey Love: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1orgemUchI

Then Seungcheol pulled (Y/N) onstage infront of Ren. “(Y/N), will you make me the happiness man on Earth and become my wife?” Ren asked on one knee with their friends and family around them cheering. “Of Course!” (Y/N) exclaimed and they shared a kiss and Ren slipped on the ring.

~Wedding Day~

(Y/N) was wearing a beautiful white dress with white heels and with diamond earrings and necklace. She had light make up on and it showed her natural beauty.

Make-Up: Screen+shot+2013-01-01+at+1.29.53+PM Dress: http://cherrymarry.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/ball-gown-wedding-dress-with-diamonds.jpg

https://hillsweddingdress.xyz/img/wedding-dresses-strapless-diamonds-15.jpg

http://g01.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB12tGTGFXXXXXsaXXXq6xXFXXX2/221648256/HTB12tGTGFXXXXXsaXXXq6xXFXXX2.jpg

http://image.dhgate.com/albu_268422094_00/1.0x0.jpg

http://wedwebtalks.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/sleeveless-white-wedding-dress.jpg

(Chose the one you like)

In the groom’s room, Ren had a white suit on and looking very nervous while his members were congratulating him and telling him everything will be okay. He smiled at them in thank, he took a deep breath and opened the door as the music flowed throughout the room.

Suit: white-suits-white-suit-for-men-21

The two of them were very nervous but also very excited. (Y/N) took a deep breath and took her father’s hand and the door opened (Y/N) walked in with her father in hand and saw Ren at the alter looking at her smiling.

Ren turned when he heard the door open, he saw his beautiful soon-to-be wife. She looked so beautiful that he couldn’t help smiling at her and she smiled back making his heart flutter. She went next to him and the priest was talking, and the two zoned out and just looked at each other lovingly.

“Do you, Choi Minki, take Choi (Y/N), to be your wife to love and care as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Choi (Y/N), take Choi Minki, to be your husband to love and care as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“I announce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

And Ren slammed his lips against yours as you kissed back immediately. And everyone cheered for you happily.

~Ending~

1 year later you gave birth to a baby boy you named (B/N). He had your eyes and lip and he had Ren’s hair and face.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/6b/b6/d8/6bb6d8cef41dd61d78d22c8db3254dd9.jpg

You and Ren lived happily ever after.

You, in the end, got your wish, you lived happily ever after with your friends and family again, only this time, it lasted longer and your wish was fulfilled.

#Nu'est #Ren #XReader #Kpop

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