#that maybe we could arrange for where we do actually cook separate meals for ourselves so long as she doesn't touch our ingredients

[david-watts]

why does my grandmother never fucking listen

[wavesmp3]

before the bucket falls

jeonghan x (female) reader 

requested from sensory prompt #33: the feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade genre: study abroad/university au + apocalyptic-ish  wc: 4k warnings: implied nudity i guess, maybe a few curses as well a/n: i apologize that this took me ages to finish, also the bucket list is completed out of order, enjoy!!

(0. Hear That There’s A Week Until The End Of The World)

You hadn’t expected to be so nonchalant when you hear that the world is ending in a week. Hadn’t expected to so readily accept you and your classmates inability to return home from studying abroad for the semester. And you certainly hadn’t expected to sit down with Jeonghan that afternoon (an acquaintance-made-friend in the whirlwind of apocalypse news) to create a list of things to do before the world ends. 

“We’ll start tomorrow,” he declares scribbling one final item on the bucket list before folding the paper and shoving it in his pocket, “and hopefully we finish before the world goes up in flames.” 

(6. Bang On The Hood Of A Car And Say ‘Hey, I’m Walking Here!’)

Your first day before the end of the world begins with you and Jeonghan searching for a car. 

“This one is...” Jeonghan frowns, rereading the sixth item on the bucket list. Looking up, he says, “it was your idea wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Now, get in the car and pretend to almost run me over.” 

Jeonghan complies, starting the car and driving towards you all too slowly. Still, when he gets close enough, you bang on the hood of the car, half-laughing and half-yelling “hey, I’m walking here!” He only laughs at you incredulously. 

You switch after that, you in the car and Jeonghan walking across the street. And this time, when you get close to his figure instead of banging on the hood, you hear a small thud and watch him fall to the floor. You run out of the car shrieking his name only to find him on the ground laughing. 

“I thought-” you exhale, breath hot with a mix of shock and relief, “I thought I actually hit you.” 

Jeonghan doesn’t say a word too busy literally rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach in laughter. And when you shove him, kneeling on the ground and smacking his arm for freaking you out, he only laughs harder. 

(3. Steal Something)

Unsurprisingly, number three on the list is Jeonghan’s idea. You don’t argue, not at first at least. But when you step into the convenience store and begin shoving bags of chips under your shirt and bottles of soda into your bag, you start to feel the small push of your consciousness. 

“Is this a good idea?” You say to Jeonghan who’s deciding which kinds of candy he wants to hide in his pockets. 

“There’s no one even here.” He waves you off pointing at the empty cash register. “So honestly I’m not even convinced if this counts as completing number three.” Deciding on a chocolate bar, he turns on his heel, grabs an extra bottle of juice, and exits the store casually. 

(11. Perform Three Acts Of Kindness) 

You leave some money at the unmanned cash register anyways. “Number eleven,” you say to him when he gives you a look, “it can be our first act of kindness.” He stares at you for a long moment, as if deciding how he should react to your inability to shoplift. You half expect him to walk back into the empty store and take your money from the counter. He doesn’t though. Instead, he smiles, a lopsided one that makes some part of your stomach twist uncomfortably, and laughs towards the ground, his head hanging in a way that makes his bangs fall in front of his eyes. You feel suddenly, almost foolishly, warm. 

“Come,” he beckons, pulling at your sleeve, “let’s eat.”

(10. Eat The Perfect Meal) 

The perfect meal isn’t actually perfect, an odd mix of convenience store snacks and whatever you both had left in your dorms. 

“We should have cooked something ourselves,” Jeonghan mumbles, between a mouthful of chips, “the perfect meal has to be made with love.” 

“It also has to be edible,” you retort, sipping your coffee and recalling your earlier realization that neither you or Jeonghan can cook. 

And it’s after a few more moments of eating away the tenth item on your shared bucket list that he asks, “how do you think it’ll happen?” You look up from your fruit cup. “How do you think the world is gonna end?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, “something big perhaps. An explosion?”

“Or Zombies?” he continues for you, light-heartedly. “Aliens, maybe?” 

And perhaps two days ago, you would’ve laughed at the possibility of the world coming to an end thanks to an alien invasion, but right now, sitting next to Jeonghan with yesterday’s headlines bouncing back and forth in your head, you don’t feel anything but melancholic. And like feet sinking into sand, you realize for the second time since the news came out that you have less than a week left to live. With a hopeless sigh, you say, “I hope that when the world ends, it’s painless.”

And unlike his previous suggestions, there’s nothing light-hearted about the way Jeonghan adds, “something quick.”

(4. Sing A Song Loudly In Public) 

You had wrongly assumed that this particular bucket list item was meant to be a fun and embarrassing karaoke in public sort of thing. But when Jeonghan stands on the ledge of the fountain in the center of the plaza and begins singing, you realize you've created a bucket list with an angel. Or at least, a boy with the voice of one. The plaza isn’t very busy this afternoon, but the few passersby that happen to catch his mini concert erupt in a well-earned applause when the song finishes. 

“You can sing?” You question in disbelief of just how good his voice sounds. 

He shrugs at that, jumping off the ledge in a shy sort of way that doesn’t at all match the kind of guy you pegged Jeonghan to be. “Your turn.” He pushes you towards the ledge. 

You almost fight against the nudge, almost turn around and tell Jeonghan just how tone deaf you are. But when he smiles your way and cheers your name encouragingly, you decide the embarrassment might be worth it. 

It’s not, it turns out. The entire plaza seems to murmur ‘why is she singing?’ the second you open your mouth. And it’s before you even reach the second verse that Jeonghan starts clapping and whooping for you. “Wow!” He exclaims cheerfully. “You suck.” 

You burst into laughter at that, cut your song short, and jump off the ledge grabbing Jeonghan’s hand and running away from the embarrassment with him close behind. 

—

“Where’d you learn how to sing like that?” You finally ask, later than afternoon as you and Jeonghan aimlessly walk along the street. 

He shrugs again, a familiar timidness overwhelming his body, then tells you about the singing lessons he used to take. “It used to be my dream. To become a singer.” 

“Used to?” 

He sucks in his bottom lip. “Things changed I guess.”��

You decide not to prod further. “If you could do anything right now, right before the world ends, what would you do?” 

“Anything?” 

“Anything.” 

He thinks it over for a moment, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. “Hold a concert.” He answers finally. And when you give him a look, a reminder of what he said about things changing, he just smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and mutters something about how dreams die hard. And for the third time today, you’re surprised by how shy Jeonghan gets about his singing and how endearing you find it when he does. 

“What about you?” He returns this question, pushing the attention away from himself. “What would you do?” 

“I’d go home.” You say quietly, hoping the press of sadness that comes with thinking about home doesn’t show in your voice. “See my family once more before the world ends.” And when Jeonghan doesn’t respond or meet your eyes, you laugh, unable to procure a more creative reaction. “It’s kinda lame, isn’t it?” 

“‘No, no.” He says quickly, waving away the suggestion before the words can even settle in the air. “It’s not lame; it’s…” his voice trails off, fingers reaching out in front of him as if he’ll find the right words in the last remaining rays from the sun. His hand drops to the side. Seemingly, giving up on the previous sentence, he says, “Tell me about them. Your family.” 

You’re about to say no. About to change the topic to something a bit lighter. Something that doesn’t force you to think about home and the people that you miss so fiercely and long to see once more. But it’s as the word ‘no’ bubbles in the back of your throat, that you meet Jeonghan’s eyes and find a starling amount of sincerity in them. And when you go looking for your intent to reject the request, you find it’s disappeared altogether. “Okay.” You exhale. “Where should I begin?” 

And so you spend the rest of the day telling Jeonghan about your family, and by the time the sun begins to set, he tells you about his. 

(12. Say Goodbye To Your Family) 

You both decide it’s better to get this part of the list over with. Pulling out your phones and dialing home soon after the sun sets. It’s an odd sort of arrangement, you think to yourself listening to the phone ring, you and Jeonghan sitting on opposite sides of this empty street. “Privacy,” he had told you, walking away from you and taking a seat on the curb, “this way you can cry in private.” 

It’s… bearable at first. You talk to your family, update them on what you’ve been doing since your last call home as if everything is normal, as if they’re expecting another update soon, as if the world isn’t ending in a few days. But the facade that everything is fine comes crashing down the second you hear a noise come from the other side of the road, a mangled sound that rushes all the way from Jeonghan’s mouth to you, banging at your heart and creating a dent between your lungs. And you suppose that if you were a little bit closer and if Jeonghan hadn’t turned around to put his back between him and you, you would’ve heard him sobbing. The thought alone ignites a flame of sadness that emerges from your lips, travels through the phone lines, and ripples across the ocean separating you and your family.

Saying goodbye to your family does not stay bearable for long. 

He finishes the call before you. And when you do finally hang up, it takes ten minutes of calming down before you're in any state to walk across the road and greet Jeonghan for what feels like the first time that night. 

“Can we, uh,” you stop, sniffle, then laugh at the absurdity of this moment, “can we stop here for today.” 

“Yeah,” he mutters, finally standing from the floor. He doesn’t look your way, keeps his eyes trained to the ground while bringing a hand up to wipe at his nose and eyes. “I’ll walk you home.” 

(5. Wish Upon A Star) 

Sleep doesn’t come that night. You spend it tossing and turning in bed, replaying every bit of what was probably your last conversation with your family. At 2 am there’s a knock on your door. Jeonghan stands in the doorway, eyes drooping and blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Yeah,” you say, opening the door and letting him in, “I can’t sleep either.” 

After another moment, he finally says, “have you ever been to the roof?” 

You let him lead the way. 

— 

The night air feels cool against your skin, brushing through your hair and sending a shiver across your skin. You pull your hoodie closer around you before laying down on the roof next to Jeonghan who throws his blanket so that it drapes over both of you. 

“Which one for number five?” He says gesturing to the starry night sky. 

“Number five?” 

“Wish upon a star.” He reminds you. 

You lift your hand and point to one off the center, a bright one that flickers more than the others. “That one.” 

“Okay,” he exhales. You watch the breath leave from his lips. “Make a wish.” 

You do.

“Which star do you think is gonna blow up and cause the end of the world?” He asks, shifting his body and ending up a fraction closer to you. 

“Give me a crash course on all of them and I’ll let you know.”

He does, making up constellations and creating fake names for each one. 

And at some point in his explanation of the origin of each star, his hand finds yours. The cold seems to wither away after that. 

(1. Ride A Motorcycle) 

“Are you sure you know how to ride this thing.” You question for the fifth time that morning, pacing around the moped and Jeonghan who’s sitting impatiently on it. 

“Just get on would you?” He huffs, dropping the extra helmet on your head and pulling you towards the moped. You settle behind him, fixing your helmet and clasping it in place. “You know how to get to the beach right?”

“Yeah, but we just need to make a pit stop somewhere first.” 

“That’s fine. Grab on.”

Ignoring the unevenness of your breath, you wrap your arms around his torso. You try not to think too hard about the way he momentarily tenses up when you do. 

“Ready?”

“Please, don’t kill me on this thing. We’re all dying in a few days-” He doesn’t let you finish, revving the motorcycle and laughing when you scream into his shoulder. 

(11. Perform Three Acts of Kindness) 

“What are we here for?” Jeonghan wonders aloud, his voice echoing in the auditorium. 

“Number 11. Our second act of kindness.” He looks at your quizzingly. “Yesterday you said that if you could do anything before the end of the world, you’d have your own concert. So here,” you hand him a mic and point at the empty stage, “go sing.”

You’ve never seen him run so excitedly. 

(3. Steal Something)

When Jeonghan wrote down ‘steal something’, you definitely hadn’t expected him to coerce you into stealing a house. “This isn’t even stealing. This is trespassing.” You hiss under your breath, looking over your shoulder. “Plus, we already stole from the convenience store.”

“Firstly,” Jeonghan begins, finding an unlocked window to the beach house and cracking the adjacent door open, “you paid the store so that definitely didn’t count. Secondly, trespassing is basically just stealing space. And lastly,” he announces turning around and waving to the open beach house, “this place is gorgeous and free.” 

You peer inside the house and--shit, it is gorgeous. “Fine.” You relent taking a step inside the house. He smiles triumphantly. 

“Come on,” he grabs your hand as soon as you set your things down and starts pulling you towards the beach, “time for number two.”

(2. Send A Message In A Bottle) 

“Who should we write to?”

“A friend?”

“An ex?” He grimaces at the suggestion.

“How about ourselves 10 years ago.”

You consider it. “Or what about,” you start tapping a finger against your chin, “ourselves 10 years from now.” He gives you a wary look. “Just in case this whole thing turns out to be a hoax.”

“Do you believe that?” he asks quietly. 

You bite your lip. “Not really, no.”

“To myself,” Jeonghan scribbles on the paper, “ten years from now.” 

And when you're both done with the letters, you fit them inside empty beer bottles and let the waves take them. 

Inhaling the salty ocean scent, you watch the bottles float.

“This moment would feel a lot better if I didn’t feel like we just made marine pollution worse.”

(9. Go Skinny Dipping) 

The water is freezing, cold against your bare skin and lapping by your shivering mouth. 

“It’s not that cold.” Jeonghan laughs, splashing sea water in your face. 

You splash him back. “For you maybe.” 

“Tell me a secret.” He says suddenly, stopping and treading the water in front of you. 

You think for a minute before answering. “I really like it when you sing.”

“That’s not a secret; it’s a confession.” He complains, flapping his hands in the water. With a teasing smirk, he adds, “next you’ll confess your undying love for me as well.” 

You laugh, sort of, swallowing salt water in the movement and choking on the sudden intake. 

Clearing your throat, you say, “give me an example of a good secret then.” 

“Okay,” he hums, biting his lip and swimming closer towards you until your knees awkwardly bump into each other. You swallow at the proximity. “I’ve never been in love.”

“Never?”

He shakes his head. “Have you?”

“Once.” Something in your stomach turns. “Or at least I thought I was in love.”

“And what do you think now?”

You meet his eyes. They look strangely hopeful. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

His hand comes up, fingers trailing over your shoulder blade and lingering right above your collarbone. You shiver. 

“Still cold?” He whispers. 

No, you think, but your head nods ‘yes’ before the word comes out. 

He swims back to shore. And soon after, you follow. 

(13. Fall In Love) 

You finish showering before Jeonghan, coming down the stairs of your stolen beach house and taking a seat on the stolen (but comfortable) couch. You look for the bucket list to cross out skinny dipping for him. And when you find the folded list in a pocket of Jeonghan’s bag, you realize that this is your first time seeing it since the night of its creation. You read over it carefully. 

1. ride a motorcycle 2. send a message in a bottle 3. steal something  4. sing a song loudly in public 5. wish upon a star 6. bang on the hood of a car and say ‘hey, i’m walking here!’ 7. watch the sunrise  8. watch the sunset 9. go skinny dipping 10. eat the perfect meal 11. perform three acts of kindness 12. say goodbye to our families 

And under the twelve that you and Jeonghan made together is another, additional bucket list item. Written in a different color pen and in his messy handwriting is:

13. get her to fall in love with me

“That shower felt so good.” Jeonghan’s voice comes traveling down the stairs. “I found sand in-” he stops, halts at the end of the banister upon seeing the paper between your hands. 

“What do you mean ‘get her to fall in love with me’?” You gulp, holding up the list. 

“Oh, that,” he laughs, awkwardly, slowly walking towards you, then stopping halfway as if he’s made a mistake, “I added it after you left that night. And, well, yeah.”

You stand up and go to him, meeting him halfway across the living room. “Jeonghan I-” you lose grasp of what you’re going to say next and elect to stare at him instead, studying the drop of water that falls from a strand of hair to his face. Decide instead to study the flutter of his lashes and the way his gaze darts between your eyes and your lips. He inhales. “Oh, fuck it.” you mutter finally, grabbing the collar of his tshirt and kissing him. 

It takes a second for Jeonghan to react, too long your brain convinces you already beginning to pull your face away. But it’s as your lips leave his, that they crash together again, him pulling at your hips stumbling backwards until you knock your head against the wall, bodies flush. You wrap your arms around his neck, tangle your fingers through his wet hair. There’s a moan, you can’t be sure which one of you it comes from, but the sound of it has you feeling weak somewhere, everywhere. 

“Upstairs,” you pant, when he pulls away for the smallest of seconds.

“Are you,” he pauses, lips hovering in front of yours and breath heavy against your skin, “are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, noticing the flush in his face, glad he's just as affected, “I mean it’s on the bucket list.” 

Jeonghan happily complies. 

(7. Watch The Sunrise) 

You both watch it in bed, from a window that seems to capture it perfectly. 

“It’s pretty,” he states, holding a hand up in a straggling ray and watching it turn gold in the light. 

“Only a few more left.” 

(8. Watch The Sunset) 

You watch it on the beach with a stolen towel from the stolen house under you. It’s beautiful really. A mesh of blues, pinks, orange, and purple. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sunset like this one,” you say inhaling the salty scent of the sea that lingers on your arms and legs and hands. 

Jeonghan hums, absentmindedly enough for you to turn around to look at him laying on his back and playing with a loose strand from your hoodie instead. 

“We can’t cross it off if you don’t actually watch it.” You tell him, finding his hand in yours and pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

He shrugs. “I’ve seen enough sunsets.” 

(11. Perform Three Acts Of Kindness) 

“Last item,” Jeonghan murmurs one day, settling into bed next to you, “one final act of kindness.” 

You poke at his chest. “What do you have planned for it?” 

“This.” He says, pulling out a small slip of paper. You sit up. “I bought you a ticket.” 

It takes you longer than it should to realize it’s a plane ticket home. 

“How and when did you…” your voice drops away, the logical questions slipping off your tongue when you make a new realization. “There’s only one ticket.” 

“Listen,” he starts, turning to face you properly. “I think you should take it.”

“No,” you refuse, shaking your head. He takes your face between your palms forcing you to stop and pay attention. 

“Go home and see your family. That’s what you told me you’d do before the world ends.” He hesitates, releasing your face and taking your hands in his. Something feels entirely wrong when he starts to rub small circles into the back of them. “You only have a few days left. So go home. Say goodbye to me instead.” 

“Things change,” you say a little too harshly, regurgitating what he told you earlier this week. “And I don’t know if I can go anymore.” You sputter out just barely, voice feeling suddenly course against your vocal chords, but what you mean to say is: I don’t know if I can go without you. “And besides,” you stress, putting the ticket back in his lap, “you can’t make me go.” 

“Don’t you see,” he chuckles, a small, quiet sound that has no business making you feel as warm as it does, “I’m not making you go,” he meets your eyes again, and for some reason, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that this is the last time you’ll see them like this, “I’m asking you to.” 

[caffeineivore]

Commission #2

For @nelwynp. Based off a very very old ficverse from wayyyyyyy back in the day called “Freckles” which may or may not be found on LJ. Makoto/Nephrite.

Commissions are still open!! Check out the details here or all the other commissions currently available here!

Long distance relationships are statistically known to suck, and honestly, I wouldn’t have considered myself the rose-coloured glasses type. The real world doesn’t care that you’ve probably, maybe, already gotten your share of crap thrown at you, starting from the death of your parents, and think maybe it should cut you a break. I knew the chances of Nick and myself making it were slim. He would be busy, surrounded by strangers a whole two states away. Sure, we’d known each other since we were kids, and maybe by now, he had become the one constant in my life-- my North Star, perhaps-- that forever friend who’d seen me at my worst and didn’t care in the least. And maybe--- maybe, finally, I’d finally told him those three words that had been nagging at the back of my subconscious for the last year of our acquaintance. He’d said them back, and it was only then that I realized how much I’d needed to hear and say them.

Still, I saw him off on that cloudy morning with dry eyes and homemade eggs Benedict-- that is to say, that I fed him and double-checked to make sure that he had not misplaced anything important. The apartment that he’d been living in was stripped bare, and all of his worldly goods were in the trailer of the U-haul which would take him to his new home. I was plugging his phone into the car charger in the front console when his arms wrapped around me from behind, and turned me to face him. 

Nick has always been a good-looking guy, in that sort of rugged, All-American way, with broad shoulders and a great smile, and I’d learned at some point in our long acquaintance that he gave the best hugs-- the type that lifts you slightly off your feet and makes you feel like some type of dainty damsel even when you’re six feet tall in heeled boots. It’s no different now, and maybe I hung on for a moment too long, myself. He’s not much of a cologne guy, but his sweatshirt smells like laundry soap and I’m pretty sure he’d used my shampoo that morning again, because his hair’s super soft-- and the flowery scent is not nearly as girly on him as it is on me. 

“Call me when you get there.” I hope to Hell, of course, that the fact that my voice is muffled against his neck disguises the unsteadiness.

“I’ll call you every day.”

I wouldn’t hold him to it, of course, but I didn’t say anything to that effect, and I watched as he drove off, and then headed off to the gym for a punishing three-mile run on the treadmill followed by a full hour of kickboxing to a playlist of angry girl rock, and if I cried in the shower afterwards, no one needed to know that.

He did call that night, though. And the night after. And the night after that. And soon, it had become a routine, and maybe I should have given him more credit the whole time. Before I knew it, two months had passed, and he flew down for a long holiday weekend, and after we’d christened three separate rooms in my apartment, we got caught up in person. I’d heard so much about his new place and the people he’d met at his new school that I probably could’ve picked his favourite and least favourite professors out of a crowd. 

This became a thing, and so for two years, we did the long distance thing. He heard about the awful day when the stand mixer went rogue and how I was still picking bits of cake batter out of my hair two hours later. I heard so much about one particularly persnickety city inspector on a project he worked on that I learned to hate the guy as much as Nick did. Our reunions were sporadic, rapturous and never long enough, though half the time we eschewed actual dates in favour of staying in and just being ourselves together-- watching movies, working out, buying groceries and cooking meals, falling asleep so close together that it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other one began. 

We spent that first Thanksgiving at my place-- Friendsgiving, really, cooking a huge meal in a too-small kitchen, inviting all of our old friends. I shooed Nick and James out of my kitchen and chatted with Raye as she snapped a bowl of green beans for me and sounds of the football game filtered in through the living room. She was a ball of nerves-- James would be meeting her very formidable, very rich, very conservative father when he went over to her home for Christmas. Said father would not be amused to find his only daughter not only dating, but actually fully living in sin with a mouthy city boy-- when Nick had moved out, James and Raye had gotten an apartment together. Amy and Zach had arrived a bit later, because he’d had to pick her up from the hospital where her shift had run over. Kevin and Mina, on the other hand, were at her parents’ house out of state. She’d texted me all types of sad face emojis about how the cranberry sauce had come out of a can and the mashed potatoes had come out of a box, but I had no sympathy. She had parents who cooked for her for Thanksgiving, didn’t she? Besides, if she really cared about food over time spent with them and Kevin, she would have told them that she had Ebola and came over to my place instead.

At any rate, against all the odds, we somehow managed to make it work, and two years, three months and six days after that first time that I told him I loved him, he was on his way down to visit again. I’d gone up to see him get his Master’s degree two months ago and he’d taken me out around the town to celebrate with his friends and classmates. Some of them had met me before, but to those who hadn’t, he introduced me as his girlfriend, and from the easy acceptance, I knew that everyone present had some idea of our history. It had been a wonderful weekend, but I was a bit nervous about seeing him again today. Something had come up, very recently, and I wasn’t sure how he would take it.

At first, I had thought nothing of the symptoms. Fatigue and a bit of nausea doesn’t tend to alarm anyone right off the get-go. Everyone knows restaurant hours are brutal, and as an apprentice chef, any task, no matter how mundane or unpleasant, might get assigned to me on any given day. Certainly, I might get to spend one day arranging delicate edible flowers and a compote of ripe berries around and on top of fancy panna cottas, but the very next, I might be doing nothing but washing dishes and running out garbage. The kitchen I work in specializes in a rotating seasonal menu, and at the time, calamari was in season. Certainly it is delicious deep-fried with casino butter and lemon wedges, sprinkled with sea salt and cracked black pepper, but it’s definitely not as appealing raw, slimy and fishy-smelling. It’s enough to make anyone lose their appetite doing prep early in the morning. But then I was late. And not to work, if you know what I mean. One week stretched into two, then three. The nausea didn’t go away, even when my day consisted of making large quantities of bourbon vanilla buttercream frosting for strawberry white chocolate cakes. It was a week ago that I picked up two different pregnancy tests from Walgreen’s. Both results had come back to tell me what I kind of already knew, deep down, and I was honestly terrified down to the bone.

I had always wanted to have that maybe-stereotypical home and family someday-- the cute house with gingerbread trim and the white picket fence and the garden full of old-fashioned flowers, a husband who loved me and our children and went to baseball games and dance recitals with equal enthusiasm. I wanted to be able to be the mom who baked cupcakes for the bake sale and cookies for the big jar on the kitchen counter, and volunteered to chaperone field trips to the science museum. That had been my own mother, from those distant reaches of old memories, and though I’d lost her, I knew that it was in me to keep her legacy alive. 

But I had not intended to do so when I had just started my career, unmarried and still living in a tiny college-campus apartment, with a boyfriend who lives two states away, who might not even want kids. God! That was a discussion we’d never even had. 

The door swings open, though, before I could think about it any more. Nick has a key to my place, of course, as I do to his. Sometimes he calls, but sometimes he just arrives, like today, a little ahead of schedule. I’m caught up in one of those long, tight hugs, a warm and familiar hand cupping the back of my neck, and maybe he feels a hint of desperation in my kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, but full of concern. “Everything okay, Freckles?”

“Ugh. Can you not call me that? We’ve talked about that.” Oh, Gods... A baby with his brown hair and my green eyes. His dimples and my freckles. I can almost picture a little girl, toddling on chubby legs, riding on his shoulders, picking dandelions in the yard and blowing the fluff away in the wind. I’d teach her to bake chocolate chip cookies and read her stories where the princess saved herself and buy her pretty dresses for picture day and sturdy jeans for playing outside in. I loved her already, but she wasn’t supposed to even exist. 

“Habit. And you scrunch your nose up when you’re mad, and I shouldn’t like it, but I do.” Nick presses another, shorter kiss to my mouth, then tips up my face. “But you seem a bit out of sorts. What’s wrong?”

“How could you tell if I’m out of sorts or not when you literally just walked in two minutes ago?” It’s an evasion, and I’m sure he can and will spot the bullshit and call me out on it. 

“Because I’ve known you since we were kids, and you don’t have to say or do anything for me to know when you’re out of sorts.” Nick pulls me gently over to the love seat, and sits me down, keeping one of my hands in his as though he expects me to bolt at any moment. “Everything’s okay, right? You didn’t have anything particularly horrible at work this week that I recall from our conversations.”

No, this week hadn’t been bad. Breaking down chickens is fairly mindless work once you get the hang of it. And the resulting bone broth is wonderful for someone who finds it difficult to keep food down some days. Nick deserves the truth, of course, and maybe the ripping-off-the-bandaid approach is best. I shut my eyes to his all-too-perceptive, all-too-loving gaze, and set my teeth.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand tightens on mine and his next inhaled breath is sharp, but I plow on. “I know it’s not expected, and I know we were careful, but… it is what it is. You don’t have to worry, though. I’m not some delicate little miss who’s afraid of raising a child. The executive chef at work loves me, as he should, and I’m sure they’ll work with me when the time comes for maternity leave. And in this day and age, it’s not a big deal to be a single mom. I’m keeping this baby and she’s going to get the best life that I can give her, growing up.” I don’t know why I was so certain I was having a little girl. But she already existed, to me, and at that moment in time, she was probably only the size of my pinkie nail. “She will never doubt, for a moment, that she’s loved.”

“Of course not.” Nick finally speaks, and his voice is an awed, slightly choked-up whisper. I sense him moving, then one big, warm hand rests on my still-flat stomach, followed by the press of his lips. “We’re having a baby. Wow. Okay, so I guess I should get on with what I’d already planned to do, even though I’d planned for this to be a lot more romantic.” Belatedly, I realize that not only has he moved, but he is down on his knees in front of me, one hand on my stomach, the other one digging into a pocket, and then he pulls out a small black velvet box, flicks open the catch.

I’m not much of a jewelry type of girl-- I wear the same earrings, every single day, but working in a kitchen greatly limits the practicality of going around with bracelets and rings and do-dabs. Still, stereotypical though it might be, I’d always wanted that classic diamond solitaire engagement ring from my husband-to-be, and now, when it’s staring me in the face-- princess-cut and set in platinum, I find myself speechless. 

“Lita Oakley, love of my life, will you marry me?”

Of course he doesn’t mince words. In a lot of ways, I guess we’re past that point. But I draw my hand back a moment before he can slide that ring on. 

“I don’t want you to propose to me because I’m pregnant and you feel obligated. You’d end up regretting it, and that would kill me.” We didn’t live together now, but if we did someday, and then it all went south, and I had to walk into an empty house bereft of his presence and his things and even the way he’d always kick his shoes off any which way by the door rather than make sure they’re put up where no one can trip over them, I knew it would break me in a way that hadn’t been possible since my parents’ deaths.

Nick rolls his eyes, though, and huffs out a breath before digging deeper into that little velvet box, all the way underneath the white satin. He takes out a crinkled paper receipt, and unfolds it, and drops it on my lap. “You are so stubborn. Do you know that? Take a look at that receipt, will you? Just… humour me.”

I do. It’s from some jeweler in his state, and the price of the ring of course makes me wince a little. It’s definitely not cheap. But then I read it a little closer, and see the time stamp on the top. It was purchased at 4:26 PM on the sixth of December, two whole years ago. Perhaps six months after he’d moved away.

“I got it as soon as I could afford it, and I’d been saving up for a while. Probably not very well-thought-out of me, when everything was so up in the air. But I’d always known that we’d be here together, someday, and I’d be asking you to marry me. Anyway, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you’re pregnant and everything to do with the fact that I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and there’s no one else in the world for me, and it’s too late to return this ring, anyway.” He pulls it out of the box, and I see something shining, trailing from it. “I know you can’t really wear rings, working in a kitchen. So I also got a necklace that you can wear this on, if you’ll just say yes. Please say yes.”

“How are we going to do this?” I blurt out, as that other infamous symptom of pregnancy-- emotional hormonal tears-- makes its appearance. I blink and try to sniffle them away, but Nick simply puts the ring on my finger, silvery necklace dangling from it, and gets up to his feet, pulls me gently to mine. “You live so freaking far away.”

“Not anymore I don’t.” He tugs me close, and kisses me again. “My lease is up in a month. I figure I can get another U-haul, and con the guys into helping out. I’m pretty sure that the people can put a good word in for me to get hired in somewhere local-- dumb jock notwithstanding, I worked my ass off these last few years and have the credentials and grades to prove it. Since my lease is up in a month anyway, might as well look for a new place to live. Some place that can be baby-proofed, and definitely not a top floor apartment with a janky elevator like here. Can’t have my pregnant fiancee struggling up five flights of stairs every day.”

He makes it seem so simple, really, as he pulls me in for what promised to be an extended cuddle session. 

But maybe-- maybe it would be. 

[gosanonekoma]

「 Shall we stick together a little longer ? 」

• Shall we stick together a little longer ?

• Kuroo & Tsukishima ( Haikyuu )

                                                   —–

The sun, at its highest point in the sky, illuminated the forest decorated with countless flowers. Many children of all ages played there, imagining themselves a policeman, a princess, a superhero or even a chef. Among them was a blond little boy but he wasn’t imagining himself in his dream, he was just quietly reading next to his grandmother who knitted. He was much more self-effacing than the others, preferring the sweetness of his books. The old woman left her occupation to turn her gaze towards the pages that devoured her grandson with such attention. “What are your reading my little moon ?” “A book with ghosts.” “And it doesn’t scare you ?” "No, the ghost is nice.” Listening to the child’s words, she smiled. “Do you want me to tell you a secret ?” “A secret ?” “About a ghost.” “Yes !“ The child gave the most innocent smile to his grandmother, totally abandoning the writing which had captivated him for so long. "You see this church over there? It was built on an old cemetery a long time ago.” “So there are still people underneath ?” “It was so old that it must not remain much now, but the souls of these people may still be wandering here.” “Souls ?” “Yes, they are said to protect the forest. They are also said to wander among the trees with their transparent bodies, which can only be touched when the latter encounters his soulmate.” “The ghosts can fall in love even after their departure ?” “Of course, they can as you and I do. You know, our family is the one who has taken care of this forest for generations so every night I brought food to this hole you see in the church.” "Why did Grandma bring food ?” “Because these people are inhabitants of our village in their own right.” “So, did Grandma meet one ?” “I met a lot of them.” “They are nice ?” “Very, they always told me stories about their lives.” “But why have I never seen one Grandma ?” “Because they’re afraid.” “Afraid of what ?”“Since my childhood, things have changed and they no longer have the same confidence in us that they had before.” “Why ?” “People are no longer as nice as they used to be. Even if they are only ghosts, they want to avoid any possible danger.” “You think I could meet one ?” “Maybe, I don’t know.” The little boy made a disappointed pout, he seemed so interested in these supernatural beings. He went home the next day.

The years had passed and the child, now a handsome man, came back to his grandmother’s house. “Ah my little moon, happy to see you again.” “Grandma, I’m not a child anymore.” “Whatever you say Tsukishima, you’ll always be my little moon.” Despite his more distant attitude, the softness of his voice when he spoke to him had not changed. “My little moon, could you bring food to the church today ? My legs are terribly painful.” "Okay, rest.” Tsukishima had never thought that his grandmother would ever ask him that. But to tell the truth, since that day, this story had not left his mind, he always wanted to approach these much talked about guardians of the forest. The young man took the dish concocted with love and walked with difficulty towards the church. Indeed, a succulent odor emanated from the dish and Tsukishima took it on himself in order not to savor it. His footsteps slowly led him to the place where he saw a body zigzagging between the trees. However, this body didn’t look human, the adrenaline and excitement climbed inside Tsukishima. Would he finally meet a ghost like those his grandmother had described him long ago ? His feet kept walking until he found himself behind the mystery. He was a tall young man, of a size similar to that of Tsukishima, with brown hair. He held out his hand, would it cross this body ? “Eh ?” The stranger suddenly turned around, not giving Tsukishima an opportunity to -maybe- traverse him. “What are you doing ?” “Ah .. I .. Well … ” He was so embarrassed by the fact of being discovered that the blonde couldn’t even answer this simple question. Plus, this unknown person was particularly attractive. “Ah, it’s you who bring the meal today ?” “Yes..” “How can it be ? Is the grandmother fine ?” “Her legs hurt so she asked me to bring it instead of her. I’m her grandson.” "I see, nice to meet you then. I’m Kuroo.” “Tsukishima.” The said Kuroo held out his hand but Tsukishima looked at him strangely, why did he do this when he could not touch him ? “I can touch you?” “Oh no you can’t. I had forgotten that I was no longer human !“ Kuroo withdrew his hand with an embarrassed expression but showing him a kind smile that could dissipate the darkness of the night.

Days disappeared one after the other, but the conversations between the two young men remained engraved in their memory like precious memories which were added day after day. A conversation. "Do you really eat the dishes that my grandmother cooks ?” “Of course, we can’t let these wonderful dishes rot !” "Is it as vital for you as it is for us ?” “Actually no, we can live without eating but they are so good ! We eat just for the pleasure of eating especially since we no longer take weight so why prevent ourselves from enjoying it ?“ Another one. "What are you doing during the day ? “The same as what you must do except work and study.” “The same thing ?” “Yes, I party with my friends, I watch television, I cook ..” “I don’t do it.” “Seriously ? You must be bored then.” And yet another. “Tell me, do ghosts have superpowers like in movies and books ?” “Like ?” “Cross the walls or even fly !” “No.” “It’s not funny..” “I didn’t think you could have a face that childish on your face Tsukki !” “Shut up !” “But it would be fun to cross the walls, I could make tons of jokes.” The long conversations under the moonlight kept accumulating under the sound of their laughter. However, one question remained in Tsukishima’s mind. "Kuroo ?” “Hm ?”"How did you fly away ?” The young man had not directly used the word dead as if frightened by it, not preventing Kuroo from understanding its meaning. “A few years ago, a drunk driver hit me while I was coming home from school. I got an A for my essay and was so excited to show it to my parents. But I wasn’t paying attention around me, too absorbed by the idea of ​​showing my note to my parents. In the end, I was never able to show them.” Tsukishima didn’t know what to say. “My parents didn’t recover and left the village, they couldn’t bear to go where I’d been knock down. "Are you alone here then ? Since when ?” "From as far as I can remember.” Although Kuroo was only a ghost, an infinite sadness emanated from his body. Tsukishima’s heart tightened. He wanted to take his hand in his but all these words exchanged made him forget that he could not : they were different. He refused to resign himself to this unfortunate reality, he took his hand and arranged them so that they seemed entwined. Kuroo was astonished nevertheless he didn’t separate from his friend as if his human warmth was really going to invade his cold ghost body.

The nights went on and on, but the sweet sound of the laughter was no longer heard in the forest. Tsukishima had not returned, leaving a deeply anxious Kuroo sitting waiting for his friend’s arrival every night. Tsukishima came back a full moon night. It was no longer the same Tsukishima, his beauty had been stained by bruises present on his beautiful face. Kuroo didn’t wait for his friend to reach him, he ran at full speed and squeezed his face into his hands. “Ouch, you’re hurting Kuroo.” The blonde was twisting in pain as the bruises were inflamed. Only, Kuroo realized that it wasn’t just on his face, his body was also covered of bruises and cut. “What happened ?! Who did that to you ?! Explain to me !” “Calm down..” “No I will not calm down ! Have you seen what state you are in ?!” The brown wasn’t able to contain his anger, he wished from the depths of his soul to reduce to dust those who had dared to touch the purity that Tsukishima represented in his eyes. “Tell me, please Tsukki.” “No, you will reject me after ..” “What are you talking about ? There’s no way I would ever do that. Whatever happens, you remain my Tsukki. ” He pressed him with his gaze more gently than he had done a few seconds before. He wanted to know, he had to know ! “At university, I met a man. He represented everything I loved in men, he was attentive, kind, handsome. I watched him for a long time discreetly without ever putting myself forward. One day he came to talk to me and asked me if I wanted to have a drink with him. I believed in a miracle and let myself be carried away. Only, he made me drink, drink, drink until I was confused enough to do really horrible things to my body. The next day I wanted to escape from this nightmare but he threatened to reveal all the photos he had taken the night before. I couldn’t let him divulge them, it would have been the end for me then I had no choice but to follow his orders all more degrading than the others ..!” Kuroo was shocked, how could a face as joyful and pure as Tsukishima’s one hide so much suffering and shame without even realizing it all this time ? “As soon as the year ended, I came to find refuge here thinking that he would let me go at least until next year but I had too much hope. When I returned to grandma’s house after our last conversation, he was waiting for me in front of it. I didn’t know what to do, I was paralyzed. He took me into an alley in the shade of any passage and broke me again .. I couldn’t do anything .. ” Salted pearls rushed down his cheeks. To Hell with their difference, Kuroo embraced his frail and trembling body while taking care not to hurt him. “I’m sorry Kuroo ..” “Why are you apologizing ? You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t worry. ” He kept holding him, fearing that Tsukishima would break into his arms. The minutes passed, but the intensity of his tears and the strength of the embrace didn’t seem to reduce. “Well my little moon, it would seem that you found the perfect friend.” "Grandma ?” Tsukishima turned around, forcing Kuroo to pull apart reluctantly. “I believe there’s no need for me to tell you that this man was obviously not the right one ?” "No, indeed.” “However, I believe there’s a need for me to tell you that this man is obviously the right one. ” The two men did not immediately understand and looked at each other. It was only a few moments after the reality caught them by surprise. “They are said to wander between the trees with their transparent bodies, which can only be touched when the latter encounters his soulmate. Kuroo, I entrust my little moon to you. If you don’t take care of him well, I won’t cook anymore for you, understood ?” The old lady walked away without waiting for Kuroo’s answer. “Count on me grandma !” The grandmother disappeared in the distance, Kuroo captured the lips of his soulmate with the moon as only witness which seemed already to bless them with its light.