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bewareofchris · 5 years

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Public Relations 25/??

R atm | Alec Hardy/Dr. Bill Masters | Broadchurch, Masters of Sex | Strong language, eventual sexual situations

“The fact that Alec Hardy was not currently, had not ever, and did not want to date the American sex research did not seem very important at all to the town of Broadchurch. They did what they had always done with a little bit of juicy gossip: they made a spectacle of it.”

AO3 Link | From this part on, the posts should line up with the chapters posted on AO3. This “part” is 25 here but it will be Chapter 9 on AO3.

Betty had a peculiar way of simply existing in spaces that she hadn’t been present in a moment ago. Bill had only just looked down at the growing stack of papers awaiting his attention for a single moment. Just barely long enough to lift up the first resume on the massive stack of possible assistants before he dropped it again and fell back into his chair in defeat.

“Hard day?” Betty asked as if she’d been there since he walked in. As if she hadn’t just materialized there with a tablet resting in the crook of her arm as she eyed him with some dismay.

He gasped, “Betty!” Because she surprised him. But he just glared hatefully at the pile of resumes because there was no defense for his desperate disinterest in going through them. “I assume you’re here on official business.”

“Sure am,” she assured him, “but, in this case, I was sent by my real boss. My wife.” She nodded her head in that way that assumed he understood. And then she cleared her throat to go ahead with, “well, she’s decided that we’re inviting you to Christmas dinner. I don’t know what’s happening with your family, or if you’ve got someplace else you’d rather be. But if your only options are eating some uninspired ham steaks and pre packaged mashed potatoes with a couple of lesbians or sitting alone in your apartment waiting for a text from your overseas lover boy, well--”

“I don’t have a lover boy.”

“You can always eat the ham at our house and wait on the texts. And sing carols with us. We might even make a stocking for you.”

Bill had not even gone through the pretense of purchasing a Christmas tree for his poorly furnished little apartment. He hadn’t turned on the radio in his car in weeks for fear of having to listen to the same merry songs over and over again. Christmas had only ever been something that wound up his guts into a fist of apprehension. Libby had been filled from top to toes with warm memories of long holiday seasons with her family. She hummed carols as she hung stockings and she laid against his side daydreaming about little fat babies to make her Christmad dreams come true.

But Bill’s memory of Christmas was an echo of every other day. His Mother made some attempt, and they assembled for dinner like waiting for a bomb to explode. Father was unforgiving and Mother was skittish. The only presents Bill remembered receiving were black eyes and bruises.

And yet, every year, he’d been sent out into the world with this expectation that he must know how to choose a gift worth giving. He’d suffered through all the Christmas movies, he’d listened to all the chatter. He’d received more than his share of gifts from thankful families and co-workers and friends. And still, he stood in department stores like an idiot, hoping to be saved by someone who took pity on men who barely had an idea of what they were doing there.

“Oh,” he said when the silence had dragged too long and Betty’s amusement had started softening to real concern. “I--uh, that’s very thoughtful of you, Betty.”

“So I’ll tell her to expect you.” Betty wasn’t asking him. She wasn’t even letting him work out how to turn her down. No, she was looking at him the way she had when she handed him a coat and a plane ticket. There would be no arguing with her. “We shouldn’t disappoint Helen right now. She needs to be in top condition for conceiving.”

“Right,” he agreed. “Right. We can’t upset Helen.” He cleared his throat, “should I bring anything? What should I bring--I… Libby usually handled these things.”

“Baby steps, boss. Bring some wine and yourself. We’ll take care of the rest.” Then she smiled at him (or tried her best) and turned with a swish of her skirt. She pulled the door closed behind her and lingered for just a breath before she walked away.

His primary consolation was that, while this had been a stupid idea, at least it had not been his stupid idea. A lucky follow up was how the aisle was filled with other similarly lost looking individuals staring at a selection of brightly colored baby toys without any clue which would be the best gift. At least Hardy didn’t have to look like an idiot by himself.

All of the boxes seemed to offer some guidance as to the appropriateness to the age of the child. Fred was a baby, but his exact age was unknown. He was old enough to stand up on his own but he wasn’t old enough to talk. (And it had been a very long time since Daisy had learned to talk. So long ago now that he didn’t remember when it happened.) Still, that wasn’t as big a problem as the fact that he couldn’t begin to guess what sort of color, character or type Fred would prefer.

(He seemed to very much enjoy knocking over block towers. And sucking his thumb.)

Hardy had never bought a gift for another person’s child, but he also felt as if some consideration was meant to be given for what Miller would prefer.

Surely, nobody had ever gone wrong with buying brightly colored, age-appropriate cars for a child? That’s what he’d been telling himself when he picked the box up. He just had been failing to believe it for the past five minutes or so. Because there were also dinosaurs that roared and trains and blocks made noises when you stacked them. And electronic toys that promised to teach letters and numbers.

An educational gift seemed ideal, unless it implied that he didn’t feel like Miller was educating her child appropriately.

Hardy was still holding the cars in one hand as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He stared at his sparse contact list as he tried to work out who he could call for help. Miller was an obvious choice but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. (They hadn’t, after all, discussed anything at all about exchanging gifts or the impending holiday.) It was too early to call Bill (and he was useless anyway). Daisy would be at school. He sighed at himself, and the toys, and his phone, and the world, but he still tapped on Tess’ name.

She answered on the third ring, sounding almost amused enough to cover her confusion. “Should I feel special?”

“How should I know?” Hardy answered, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the flutter of his heart beat getting light and flighty. He cleared his throat, “I was calling for advice about a kid’s present.”

“Ok,” Tess said, “whose kid?”

“A co-worker’s.”

“A lady co-worker?”

“Tess,” Hardy said. He opened his eyes and dropped the box he’d been holding back on the shelf. “If you can’t help…”

“Calm down, Alec. Boy or girl? How old?”

The conversation was so polite it was almost professional. Tess directed him to fat little cars that made noises and came with track pieces. And when that gift had been secured, her voice was soft when she said, “this might be the most civil conversation we’ve had in years, Alec. It’s nice to hear you sound almost happy.”

Hardy was resting one arm against a shelf, frowning sideways at nothing at all, thinking terrible-and-unkind things about his wife. He could have said nothing at all, but he said, “I’ve been happy, Tess. You just don’t get to know about it.”

Her silence was shock.

“Thank you for your help,” he said when he couldn’t take the sound of her breathing one more second. He hung up before she recovered; his body felt flushed hot and he took a minute to steady himself before he trusted his feet to carry him.

Bill was making dinner, and Alec was staying up very-very late.

“What have you been eating?” was Alec’s voice wrapped up in a blanket on his bed. It was shadowed in the after-midnight dark; just now starting to get heavy with sleepiness. “Microwave food?”

“I haven’t had to cook for myself in a very long time. And besides,” he said, off to the side of the stove, where his phone was propped up on a glass container. “It’s oddly difficult to make enough food for just one person. I don’t even know how to shop. I bought six chicken breasts when I went to the store, what am I going to do with six chicken breasts?”

“Eat six meals?”

“The only food packaged with a single person in mind is microwave meals.”

Alec made a noise like a wheeze, a snort of disbelief, and disapproval and amusement all at once. His voice was stretching and settling into a new place as he said, “and you call yourself a doctor.”

“Yes yes.” Bill moved the pan off the hot burner and picked his phone up to take it off speakerphone. Their conversation was yawning itself to a close and there was something far more fulfilling about talking quietly into the phone. “You don’t have to stay up so late,” he said.

“I know I don’t,” Alec agreed. He was quiet, like thinking very carefully about what he wanted to say next.

“Betty said you were my lover boy,” he tried to make it sound like it had been funny. He tried to make it a tease, like it was every bit as silly of her to think such a thing as the people from Broadchurch had been to think they were a couple. It had been funny at the start, when they were building a friendship off appreciation for how silly it was.

But here they were, breathing into a phone call where neither of them wanted to talk first. Here they were with phones full of long text messages and half-whispered admissions. Here he was, with his heartbeat pounding in his chest, biting his lip, hoping and not hoping all at once for some kind of reaction that--

What?

What the hell did he want?

What the hell was he even doing?

Waiting on a man from Broadchurch to tell him that maybe Betty had a point. That maybe if you woke up looking for a message from the man, and fell asleep thinking about what you’d talk about tomorrow, and stole moments from your day to escape into the ease of another nonsense conversation with him.

Alec’s sigh was almost wounded. He said, “tell me something. Something that you couldn’t tell your wife.”

Bill was staring at his socked feet and his floor that desperately needed to be swept. He was churning over a thousand different things in his head, all the ugliest secrets he’d ever kept. He was wondering what sort of test this could possibly be, and how terrified he suddenly found himself to be. He said, “I never loved Libby. Before I met her, I… I was in love. I loved her and I thought, I thought she loved me but I wrote her a note asking her to marry me and…” His throat was squeezing his words out of shape, his face was filling up with heat. Bill pressed a hand across his mouth and then cleared his throat. “It didn’t work out. And I married Libby because I needed a wife and I thought I liked her well enough.”

The silence stretched, and the quiet moved through the phone. Alec must have been pushing himself up to sit on the bed. He said, “did you love Virginia?”

“Yes,” Bill whispered, “but I wasn’t kind to her.”

“I loved my wife,” Alec said, “and that wasn’t enough for her. I don’t want to not be enough for someone again.”

“I want to be happy with someone. I want to know that I’m loved, I want them to know that I love them,” Bill said, because he couldn’t say that he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this lonely little apartment. He didn’t want the office waiting for me at his job. He didn’t want any of the things he’d spent his whole life trying to get. Whatever they had meant to him before, whatever franticness had driven him to such heights all these years, it wasn’t in him anymore.

It was stupid, to be standing in his kitchen, hoping that a man an ocean away from him would understand.

Alec said, “don’t make it sound so impossible, Bill. You can have that if you work for it.”

Maybe it was how late it was where Alec was. Or maybe it was how lonely Bill felt just then, but those words sounded almost like a promise.

Then Alec said, “go to Betty’s for Christmas. It’ll be better than being alone. And go eat your dinner, the food’s got to be cold by now.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed.

“Tomorrow, we’ve got to have an earlier call. It’s one in the morning.”

Bill snorted. “Sleep well, Alec.”

“Enjoy your dinner,” Alec said.

They were idiots on the phone, wasting seconds, waiting and waiting to see if they had to be the first one to hang up. Bill moved first, because just then he wasn’t sure he could bear to hear the sound of the call disconnecting from the other end. He stood in his kitchen, feeling like his skin had been peeled away from his flesh, with something like a flicker of hope resting firmly in his chest.

Hardy woke up like a man with a hangover. The night before had been no less full of rash decisions just because it lacked enough alcohol to justify them. His body felt no less abused. Exhaustion settled into his limbs like filling all his insides up with warm sand. The morning sun mocked him through the window as he lay on his back, searching for some sense of purpose big enough to drag him out of his bed.

Sitting no more than an arm’s distance away was the instrument of his own stupidity. (Just the memory of it made him press both his hands to his face with a groan that shook through his whole body.) The boldness of asking Bill for secrets he’d never shared with anyone else. The agony of laying in this very bed with both his hands wrapped around the phone, waiting for a response he had no right to expect.

But he’d gotten one.

Oh hell.

Staying beneath the blankets, far from the phone and all the damage it could inflict on his well-being, seemed like the only good, logical decision that could be made. A smart man would have walked away, but Hardy was a shaky, weak-hearted sort. He grabbed the phone almost as soon as he’d decided he shouldn’t, and there was a text waiting for him.

Bill had sent it before bed, and all it said was: Good morning, Alec.

The text could have said anything at all and Hardy would have smiled. It was a response made of reflex, a steadily growing expectation that was as essential to the mood of his morning as a good cup of tea. It held him over through the morning quiet as he went about the mundane activities of his life. Just when the softness of a good morning text was waning, Bill showed up with a complaint about his coffee, or his office, or the unnecessary (his words) amount of paperwork waiting for him.

With the way they were carrying on, late evening phone calls were going to become as much a part of his day as good morning texts. He was going to rearrange dinner and bedtime to make a space to answer the phone to the slowly brightening sound of Bill Masters fumbling his way into a conversation. It was a wonder how a man could dial a phone, and wait for it to ring and breathe hello across the ocean and still have no idea what you meant to say. But Hardy did understand why it didn’t matter to him if they talked about the mind-numbing nothings of a day, or exchanged dinner plans, or their least favorite holiday songs. Hardy would have had a conversation about anything at all--

His boldness was self-preservation because he knew. He’d been here before, spending all his time waiting on texts and phone calls. Falling asleep and waking up thinking about what he was going to say the next time. Taking showers without washing his hair, replaying all the words on repeat.

Hardy had to live withe answers he’d been given now. He had to accept life in the aftermath because Bill had barely taken a full minute to come up with an answer, almost exactly like a promise.

So he was an idiot, falling in love with a man he had no hope of being with, smiling at his phone as he typed out: Good morning, Bill.

Bill was wearing the lab coat because he’d convinced himself that he was going to do something like real work today. There was enough of it waiting to be attended to that he shouldn’t have had trouble finding something to throw himself into. He’d convinced himself that it would be better than sorting through resumes, but that had been well over a half an hour ago and all he’d managed to do was find himself staring at the nicely-made bad in the observation room.

His head was full of thoughts that he couldn’t quite hear. It was a peculiar feeling to be caught inside your own body, knowing something was going on, and being just out of earshot of your own emotions. (Or not. Maybe Bill felt plenty. It was the ideas he couldn’t get a grip on.)

“Bill.” Virginia was standing in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame and the other behind her back. Her voice was as soft as flower petals; her face as gentle as early-morning sunshine.

“Virginia.” He didn’t even have a pretense of being caught preparing because he hadn’t even made it as far as pulling a chair out. The most he’d done was turn on a light. They’d built this room to contain any noise and it covered the space around them cotton, sealing away all the world around them.

“I appreciate that you’ve gone out of your way to make my return as smooth as possible,” she said. “I just wonder if… How are you?”

Oh, he was thinking about a beautiful woman named Dody that had whispered his name from kiss-pinked lips like she loved him. He was wondering where she was, and why he hadn’t been enough for her.

Is that what he was wondering?

That’s what Alec had said. That he had loved his wife, and he hadn’t been enough for her. Bill had loved Dody like that, he had dreamed about the life they could have. Oh hell, he’d even imagined a lovely little house, and a little dog, and when they were ready, a child with the face of the woman he loved. He could imagine happiness in Dody’s image because it had felt possible.

Libby begged for children, and she’d gotten them in the end. Bill had never imagined a life full of children with Libby. He’d never dreamed of Christmas carols and little stockings by the fire. He couldn’t imagine kissing her in the morning with an arm wound around her back. He hadn’t even loved his children with any hope, because he had never felt that he could.

That was the sort of bastard his father had made him to be; the one that hadn’t even tried to love his own children. And for what reason? Because he hadn’t wanted them?

(But didn’t he? It had felt like heartbreak in that God-damn operating room, with the weight of his stillborn daughter in his hands. It had felt like his soul had been ripped. You couldn’t break a heart that couldn’t love. He had loved Catherine. He must have loved Johnny, and Jenny, and Howie.)

“Fine,” Bill said, “I’m doing well. Thank you.”

“Things don’t have to be strange between us,” Virginia said. “We’ve always been able to separate our work from other…distractions. I hope that we’re able to find that same balance again.”

“Of course,” he cleared his throat, “right. Of course. I just--” he looked down at the tablet in his hand, and then at the door behind her. “I think I’m not feeling well, if you excuse me. I’m going to take some paperwork and go home.”

Virginia looked, if only for a moment, disappointed by him. As if she had expected something different.

Bill slid past her before he could get caught on wondering why she would look at him like that. He passed Betty in the hallway, and she didn’t even try to stop him. The most she did was frown back down the hall like she already knew what she’d find.

But it wasn’t Virginia’s fault that Bill didn’t know what the hell he wanted. It wasn’t her fault that he’d made this terrible situation. It wasn’t her fault that he wanted to be anywhere in the world but here.

Impulse stopped him at the last moment. And it felt very much like it had the night before. When he was asked for honesty and he had barely hesitated. It must have been all those thoughts of his, just slightly too far away to hear clearly. He called, “Betty?”

“Yeah?” Betty was torn between following him and continuing what she had been doing.

“I’m going home for the day,” was a coward’s way out. He didn’t look away from her trying to figure out what to say in response, so they were still staring at each other when he cleared his throat to add, “and I’d be very happy to accept your invitation.”

“What is that?” Miller had barely made it in the door. Her fingers were still reaching up to pull her scarf loose. Even poor Fred was still bundled so tightly in his winter wear that he couldn’t quite manage to lower his arms.

Hardy had left the gift sitting on the table by the stack of case files that they kept thinking they were going to get to. But the white-shocked-look on Miller’s face made him think that perhaps he should have tucked it out of sight until he’d had the chance to provide some lead-in to giving it to her. (Except that Hardy had never seen the sense in pretenses. People wasted altogether too much time on nonsense.) “It’s for Fred,” he said. And it sounded immediately stupid to him. “For Christmas. I wasn’t sure-- If it’s inappropriat--”

“Oh shut up,” Miller said. Her fingers were still curled into the scarf but she hadn’t managed to pull it loose yet. The words came as one gust of breath and she jerked to the side, spinning around so she wasn’t looking at him.

Fred looked back at his Mom and then up at Hardy. His overstuffed coat sleeves were keeping his arms straight out to the sides but he raised them vaguely toward him. “Off,” the boy said to him. (Or might have been up.)

Hardy could have taken the boy’s coat off but he couldn’t be sure that Miller was going to stay. As much trouble as he appeared to be in, it would just be made worse by removing the coat of a small child that most likely wouldn’t want it put back on. “Miller,” he said.

“Shut up,” Miller repeated but her voice was tight and wet. She turned back to look at him as she wiped at the tears gathering at the edges of her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

There he was, a fully grown man, ducking his head because the truth was that he didn’t know what he thought he was doing. “That’s what friends do, isn’t it? You’ve got a kid and we’re friends, and that means I buy him a present and--”

“Oh, shut up,” Miller shouted at him. She was scrubbing fresh tears from her eyes with greater aggravation. Poor Fred, who had really reached the end of his ability to be held prisoner in his coat, started crying at the sharpness in her voice. Miller pulled her own scarf off before she crouched down to release the boy and kiss his distressed little forehead.

“I can take it back,” Hardy offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Miller snapped. She dropped Fred’s coat on the back of his little couch and pulled her own coat off. “I don’t think Tom’s coming home for Christmas. He says that he needs space and he feels happier when he’s not around me. He says he didn’t want to leave Broadchurch and he doesn’t want to be punished because of me.”

Hardy was miserable with comfort, standing there without any ability to offer anything that might make the thick-wet pain in Miller’s voice even slightly more bearable.

“I didn’t do this, did I? I didn’t murder a boy. I didn’t make us pariahs in our own home. I didn’t-- I haven’t even put up a tree. Fred’s too young to care. I haven’t even thought about making dinner. I didn’t even wrap any gifts. I don’t… I didn’t think I could stand it.”

Hardy looked over at the little boy dragging his box of blocks off the bottom of a low shelf. “We could get a tree,” Hardy said. “I haven’t gotten one because-- What’s the point? Daisy’s visiting her Grandparents with her Mom. I won’t get to see her until New Years, if she agrees to see me at all. We could…” He shrugged, “we could eat. Let Fred open his gifts.”

Miller was shaking her head at him. “You’re a bastard,” she said. And then she cleared her throat again. “Look at me, I’m a mess. I’m going to make myself presentable. And then we’ll talk about trees and dinner and…” She moved like she was going toward the bathroom but she lurched back and dragged Hardy into a hug.

He was too shocked to do more than stand there, and it didn’t seem to matter if he reciprocated or not. She held on a matter of seconds and then let go to retreat to the bathroom. Hardy was left standing there, looking at the empty space where Miller had been until Fred climbed onto the back of the couch to grab his hand.

“Blocks,” the boy said to him.

They were building their sixth tower before Miller came back out, and when she did, her composure was a worn-thin cover barely hiding her pink-tipped nose. She didn’t bother to touch the case files, just came around the couch to sit on the floor with them. “If you were sincere, and you weren’t just offering because I was making a scene, we’d be very happy to have Christmas here with you.”

Hardy nodded, and Miller reached out to wrap an arm around Fred and drag him back up against her body. She kissed his fluffy hair as he wriggled to be free enough to kick over the block tower. “You’ll have to do the cooking if you want something edible,” Hardy said.

Miller snorted. “We’ll split it down the middle. Joe always made Christmas dinner.”

“We can buy premade,” Hardy suggested.

They were idiots, trying to find something like happiness, smiling at nothing.

Betty opened the door with a jerk that made the knob rattle. He’d expected some level of formal attire; most likely something very similar to what they frequently wore to work. But Betty was wearing a baggy T-shirt over a pair of leggings patterned with Christmas tree lights. Her hair was pulled away from her face by a wide-black headband and she smiled at him with fondness that had no name.

“Oh,” Bill said. He was wearing a tie and carrying a bottle of wine (as directed). “Did I come at the wrong time?”

“Is that the pizz--oh.” Helen was all smiles in baggy fleece pajamas zipped from her waist to her neck. She had a fist full of cash and an almost embarrassed smile. “Hello Dr. Masters.”

“Just Bill will do,” Betty said. She opened the door as wide as she could and motioned for him to step inside. “No, you came at the right time, boss. We just decided that we’d take it easy on you this year. We ordered pizza, we bought beer and we’re going to watch Christmas movies.”

“Betty.” He didn’t step inside because he was wearing a suit. He was wearing a tie. He was holding a bottle of wine that certainly cost more than all the pizza and beer combined. There was every indication available that he didn’t belong here. He’d misunderstood the invitation, and he wouldn’t fit. “I think it’s best if I just…”

“Look,” Betty said as she leaned against the door. “No offense to your fancy education and all, boss but I think you might be the least qualified person standing in this doorway to decide what is and isn’t in your own best interest. Now, I thought something like this would happen so I took the liberty of making sure we had some pajamas in your size.”

“No, really, I think…” He took a step back and Helen turned in an awkward circle on her heels to duck back through the doorway she’d come through.

Betty slid forward, so she close enough she could grab him by the hand if she wanted. She was leaning against the door jamb, giving him just enough space to make a run for it. “I’m offering you a night of pizza, beer, pajamas and no expectations. Nobody wants to be alone on Christmas, not even you. And besides,” was a light and happy tilt to her voice, “they’re great pajamas. You can send a selfie to your Scottish sweetheart.”

“He’s not…”

But Betty just hiked up an eyebrow at him, daring him to finish the sentence. She was daring him to call her a liar, and he just couldn’t find the words for it.

“Well,” he shifted on his feet, “I brought wine.”

Betty’s smile was beautiful, and it glowed like the sun. (And he thought, like an answer to all those things that he couldn’t quite figure out, that this is what love must look like. Love at it’s most sincere, and least selfish. Because Betty had nothing to gain from loving him, and still she dragged him into her home just so he wouldn’t be alone.)

Fred fell asleep first, face down in the left over bits of wrapping paper with his fingers curled around one of the noisy little cars Hardy had bought him. He was still wearing the pajamas he’d woken up in and the little white stars caught the twinkle of the Christmas tree lights.

“God, I wish I could fall asleep anywhere like that,” Miller said. She was curled up on the edge of the couch, sipping another mug of just enough eggnog to be an excuse for the alcohol she’d put in it. “Do you remember what it was like to be that unbothered by everything?”

Hardy snorted. “Does anyone?”

They’d had a slow-and-lazy day, drifting through every emotion a human could feel in a day. The morning had started later than he remembered any Christmas involving Daisy had. Fred had found the gifts by the tree, but he was happy enough to get something to eat before he tore into them. Miller had spent an hour in the bathroom crying her eyes out, and they’d put together race tracks and installed batteries until all the toys finally worked.

They’d eaten lunch while they watched kids cartoons off a laptop.

“You’re a pretty good guy, Alec Hardy,” Miller said because she’d had just enough alcohol to make her think the words were a good idea. “Still a shitface. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile--well, I saw you smile, but you didn’t smile at me. You were smiling at your phone.”

Alec was smiling at a stupid picture of Bill Masters wearing fluffy gray pajamas and an elf hat, squished between two smiling women on a small couch. He was smiling because Bill was smiling, even if it was twinged with embarrassment. “I smile,” he said, “when there’s something to be smiling about. What have I got to smile about? My heart is trying to kill me. I can’t drive. I can’t work. I can barely walk some days. And if I die before I solve Sandbrook, all I’ll ever be known for is fucking up an investigation that let a child murderer go free.”

Miller took another drink. She shrugged, “you were smiling at your phone. I saw you. I watched you play with Fred today. You’ve got things to smile about. We both have. Now, don’t start with all that depressing stuff. I’m trying to be a merry drunk.” Her smile was exhausted and her cheeks were pink.

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine,” Miller answered with a smile.

@marvelmisha, @e3105eb, @may-darling, @bigleosis, @it-is-ineffable, @stardust-andwine, @echelongaga, @imnotokaywiththerunning, @heirofsarcasm, @thedoctorsblogger

#illogical husbands #alec hardy #bill masters #grouchy bastards in love #broadchurch #masters of sex

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years

Text

Bach Bencher

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Taehyung x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 7k

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you squint??, wholesome Tae!

Summary: The boy at the back of your class is an enigma.

Warning: Nothing! Just imagine Jungkook and Hobi dancing the mean girls christmad special!

A/N: Happy Birthday, Taetaebear! I hope you all enjoy this!

Jungkook’s loud question was the first thing to interrupt the peace your caffeine ravaged veins craved, early in the morning.

“Guys, guys, what are we doing for New Years?” He asked, fumbling between the benches to get to his seat – on the left of you. On your right, Jung Hoseok raised his head only to glare at your best friend.

“Dude, some people suffer from sleep deprivation, you know. Do us a favor and pipe down.” He said, before dropping his head down on his arm again.

Jungkook, unbeknownst to Hoseok, poked his tongue out at the older boy. “Spoilsport, but Y/N seriously, what are we doing?”

“Nothing, as of yet…it’s barely even New Year week?” You murmured, trying to take a sip without Jungkook interrupting the coffee ritual again.

He did, in fact manage to interrupt again. His hand shot out to grip at your wrist, halting the action of raising the travel mug to your lips to swig at the life saving elixir.

“But we have to do something big this time, I mean, we’re senior for god’s sake. We have to leave with a bang!” he said.

“Nobody cares how we go Jungkook,” Hoseok deigned to speak from beside you.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, irritated now. “If you’re not going to join in, please keep the comments to yourself, yeah?”

“Oh I’m in alright,” Hoseok grumbled, propping up on his arm.

“How about we throw a party? The biggest new year’s party on campus; everyone in the class helps,” He said, looking around the small class of seniors who were – like you and Hoseok – practically dead in the head.

“Great idea, Mr. Jeon, how about we get off of the desk now, so class can commence?”

Jungkook turned around, cheeks reddening immediately as everyone woke up for Mrs. Shua, our teacher.

Mrs. Shua looked amused as Jungkook settled beside you. “Well, then how about it? Do we actually do as Mr. Jeon suggested?” she asked the class.

Jungkook slumped further in his seat.

“Um, you want us to do what?” A girl in the back asked.

“Organize one of the biggest parties on the campus. If it is anything good, I will give you some extra credit. Dare I say; most of you might need it in your semester?” Shua smiled again, flipping through her notes.

“Ma’am, you mean, actually organize this party?” I asked, stunned.

“Sure Miss Y/L/N; provided you all make sure to give your all for the exams shortly after. I will even sponsor the event if it gets you all above 60 percent.” She winked.

“Now then, I want to see your notes for the topic on your desks.” She turned to the board, chalk moving in hand.

Mrs. Shua’s announcement meant that by the time the class ended, each student was vibrating in their seats. Not only did the teacher sponsored event mean a night of careless partying, it also meant extra credit. No one was going to pass up that opportunity.

Since Mrs. Shua had clearly taken Jungkook’s name for the party lead, each student lined up near your bench, a pen in hand with all the names written down with all they were willing to do for the party.

“We’ll take the party spot.” Kim Seokjin, head of the frat house spoke up as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah sure, we’ll both take a look into it. The party spot needs to be finalized by us as well.”

Jungkook, Hoseok and you stared at Soojin and Seokjin, as if it was a tennis match. Finally when Seokjin agreed to let Soojin join him in the location finding, they both moved away.

“Ok, Jungkook and I will take the dancing, if you want.” Hoseok pointed to another check list and Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, marking a tick next to dance. His tongue poked in his tongue.

“So, we have food and decorations, dance and location taken care of. Y/N, will you take the music?” He asked you.

You shrugged, your eyes focusing on something else.

“Why is the number of your list less that the class roster?” I asked, pointing and running my finger down the list of student names.

“Someone didn’t take part?” Hoseok asked frowning when your eyes caught the name absent from the participants.

“Kim Taehyung,” you murmured.

Jungkook and Hoseok and you turned simultaneously, looking to the very back where the ever present but rarely present Kim Taehyung still sat, engrossed in his phone.

Kim Taehyung was the quintessential necessity to a class such as yours.

He was the boy who did the barest minimum in class to survive, pay attention only when direly needed, participating only when pointedly told to and in general be the wall flower that people basically forgot existed.

You sort of remembered seeing the boy during the early beginnings of the class, quietly huddled into himself as he looked at the teacher and jotted down notes like a regular students.

Now, of course even though he had grown in the last three years, his personality that only squinted at first, hid completely.

His head was always down, most likely in his phone and never spoke up – ever.

Mrs. Shua had given up on him somewhere around the second year.

The strangest thing was, he almost always was the one who scraped by those surprise points that made your eyebrows rise every time you saw his name on a surprising rung while you checked for yours.

The quiet reassurance that he would always pass had maybe just made him complacent, you’d decided one day. Naturally, since he never spoke to you, you returned the favor.

The boy had brains, you could tell. You just doubted if it was one you wanted to pick at a crucial point of your own education.

Nevertheless, when Hoseok refused to go speak to him, you courageously picked up the gauntlet.

Weaving your way past the benches with Hoseok and Jungkook’s curious eyes fixed to your back, you found yourself at the very back.

‘The very back’ was definitely a corner that nobody really visited. There were cobwebs, and dust bunnies collecting in the corners that the janitors ignored, some of the paint was peeling; the desks were more jumbled in this region.

You stood carefully, positioning yourself in a way that Taehyung couldn’t miss the hovering presence that you were clearly exuding. However, Taehyung managed to avoid looking up completely.

Head still bent down, he continued to scroll down scribbles that you couldn’t see from the dark display of his phone screen.

You bit your lip, finally deciding to clear your throat to attract his attention.

The small noise made him finally look up.

Maybe it was the enigma of his strange presence that had evaded every attempt of garnering interaction but your breath caught when his eyes found yours, quizzical.

“What do you want?” he asked, not unkindly.

“Um, hi Taehyung, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You introduced, using a bright voice to show open friendliness. You decided not to shake his hand, in case he thought of you too formal.

He only nodded in reply.

“Ok, well, so, you see, we’re planning a party for New Year’s. The biggest one of the campus so everyone can attend,” you told him.

He nodded again. “I heard,” he said.

Oh, so he does pay attention to what is happening in class…you thought idly before shaking yourself out of it.

“That’s great, so do you like want to work with me in the music department? We have Hoseok and Jungkook taking care of the dance, food and decorations and location was given away but if you want to work in those we can figure something out.” You proffered the signature page to him.

Taehyung looked taken fully aback for a split second before his face dropped into composure again.

“That’s all great, but no thanks. I’ll pass,” he looked down at his phone again as if the conversation was over.

What in the…?

“Excuse me,” you tapped a fingernail against the wood of his desk. “But you have to contribute if you want to attend,” you said.

Taehyung glanced at the offending finger before looking at you. Again, the same thrill ran through you when he met your gaze. “Sorry, Y/N, but I won’t be attending at all so,” he pointedly glanced at your finger.

You clutched the page in your hand. “But that’s silly,” You whispered. “Why wouldn’t you want to attend? It’s a full class party. You belong to our class, right? It will be stupid to miss New Year’s biggest bash. We’ll work hard too so it’ll be great. Come on Taehyung, come along, you always sit things out. Try attending once.” You pushed the paper across the surface towards him.

Taehyung looked positively annoyed now. His gaze had sharpened and he sighed sternly. “Fine,” he said grudgingly, lifting the pen you had put down and writing down his name last before getting to his feet.

You watched him stalk past Jungkook and Hoseok; who stared at him open mouthed.

“We can meet at the cafeteria in lunch for brainstorming.” You called loudly after him but he vanished out the door without giving any response.

Your best friends turned to gape at you.

“That’s right, boys. That’s how it’s done.” You smiled convincingly, not letting doubt bloom in you just yet.

Two hours later, doubt was running rampant through you.

You had told Jungkook and Hoseok to go ahead and use the dance room to come up with some numbers they could start with to get the party started while you waited for Taehyung to show up.

You never knew if Kim Taehyung actually showed up for lunch or not but you were now learning that perhaps that wasn’t the case. You sat in the farthest of tables, determined not to let the man slip out of your gaze but he remained a no show.

You looked down at your binder, trying not to feel angry. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. He was probably a frightful introvert…and you had kind of forced him into this.

No, you stopped yourself from more berating. You had asked yes, you had been forward; you had tried to be nice. You wanted him to feel involved. Why was it so bad? Why was it so hard to just feel belonging once?

You shook your head, scribbling down some ideas for a Christmas – New Year mix and then looked at your phone.

You could call him, badger him some more…but you hadn’t remembered to get his number.

Maybe your incessant calling would put him off staring into the device so much. You chuckled at the thought before wrapping up, going to your next class.

The next day you showed up with a brighter and more forgiving disposition. Maybe Taehyung hadn’t heard you that day but today you made it a point to let him know that you would be expecting him at lunch. You spared no seconds, telling him the moment he walked in.

He looked at you, his glasses glinting as he passed you by to get to his seat before shrugging.

You took that as a dubious yes.

So imagine your anger when you had to sit alone – again – in lunch, your handle on your pen getting tighter and harsher until you threw it down completely and puffed out your cheeks.

This was ridiculous, you could probably do this playlist thing on your own but you had committed – hell, Taehyung had committed. How less of a self respect did you need to have to not honor that?

A saner person would’ve simply scratched Kim Taehyung from the bottom of the list, but you, well, maybe it was the caffeine, but you packed up your things, setting out to find the man of woes.

If he was set on being a hermit, you were determined to make him work.

Since Taehyung didn’t seem to be the type to eat out on the open grounds, you headed further inwards, visiting the empty lecture rooms and poking your head into the labs to see if he was cooped up in there.

Nope, zero signs of Mr. Evasive.

You wracked your brains. Where could a man who wanted to be alone in a bustling college possibly go where he would be disturbed by absolutely no one?

The light bulb that went on in your head made you bolt, rushing downstairs to head straight for the park.

Making your way through some of the overgrown shrubbery, you finally found him; sitting with his head bent over…a notebook…? – Near the small fountain that once attracted birds but now had run dry.

You slowed in your steps, watching him closely. Was it the natural lighting or did he always look like that?

Kim Taehyung was freaking beautiful.

You observed the angles of his face, soft around the jaw in muted fascination. His fingers stroked gently, the pen in his hold gliding over the page when you remembered your anger.

That beauty could wait for now.

“Hey, Kim Taehyung!” You shouted, stomping across to him.

Funnily enough, Taehyung jumped in his seat, looking around at you with his eyes wide and mouth open.

“How…how did you find me?” He asked when you reached him and you paused at the new softness in his voice, compared to the bored, sharp one he had used in class.

His glasses, the round black Harry Potter kind rested low on the bridge of his nose, making his face seem longer.

“I looked for you; that’s how. But my question is what the fuck, man?” I said my volume still loud.

Taehyung frowned, thick eyebrows furrowing before smoothening out. “You were waiting in the cafeteria.” He surmised.

“Yeah no shit Sherlock,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “Listen dude, I get that you want to stay the loner, ok? But I invited you, you got invited and you said yes to joining, to participating. If you really don’t want to just say the word and I will cut your name out but there has to be a better way of communicating than just not showing up, ok? It’s rude and I don’t appreciate you stringing me up like that.”

You finished in a huff, cheeks puffing while your chest heaved. You could feel the heat in your neck.

“Impatiens,” Taehyung said suddenly.

“Excuse me?” You asked.

The boy on the bench looked at you with small indications of a smile, tugging at his lips. “Impatiens, it is a good cure for feeling impatience with people’s slowness. It makes you patient,” He said, matter-of-factly.

The confusion created from that one sentence was so great that you dropped down beside him, shifting your bag on your knees.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” you intoned.

“It’s from Bach. He had flower remedies for various personal symptoms.” Taehyung said, looking straight ahead.

You looked at Taehyung curiously.

Bach…? Did he actually read up Bach and then give you advice? You wouldn’t have thought Kim Taehyung paid much attention to anything in life other than what was needed to keep him alive.

Well, seems like you were wrong…

You looked down to where his fingers still gripped the notebook. Surreptitiously, you slid it out of his hands. Taehyung started, turning to you and making as if he was going to snatch it back but you were already reading through it, holding it tightly.

Notes upon notes…nothing related to your subjects, instead focusing on ancient horticulture, about architecture, simple remedies and cures, music, fashion…

“Taehyung,” you said quietly, watching his hands drop back resigned into his lap out of the corner of your eye, “these are fantastic.” You said.

“Right, sure,” he snorted.

“No…you have so much knowledge…you know so many things. Why don’t you apply them?” I asked.

Taehyung sighed, finally looking up at you in that way, which has your heart irrationally skip a beat. His eyes, you now noticed were a warm mahogany reflected a bitterness not usually seen in the rest of your classmates.

“I can’t apply my knowledge, Y/N. I can’t do it because in the real world…it is absolutely useless.” He said or rather spat out.

You shouldn’t have, but you snorted anyway. “Surely you can’t believe that. You wouldn’t be writing these things down otherwise.”

Taehyung finally snatched the book back. “I write them down because it’s my passion to know things, to understand, to see them in a new way. Of course, nobody cares about how someone views anything differently. The world wants money makers, Y/N. That’s the truth and I am living it the best I can. This keeps me sane, so I do it while I study for a degree I could care less about.”

“What do you want to do then?” you asked softly.

Taehyung didn’t answer.

Instead, he shoves the book in his satchel and stands up. “It’s late, come on I’ll walk you home.” He said in a monotone.

You scrambled after him, his pace slowing so you could lead him to your small apartment complex right at the edge of the campus. The trip was silent, with both of you mulling over what you had said and in your case what you had learned about him.

“Y/N,” Taehyung called as you absent mindedly fetched your keys to the building door.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll help you with the party.”

You spun on your feet, mouth opening to ejaculate incoherent joy but he was long gone.

Taehyung kept his word.

The next day, he showed up with almost no ceremony, much to your surprise. It took him a few moments to get to you, keeping his head down before he was sliding into the chair across from you.

“Hi,” You said carefully, hoping to convey your genuine appreciation of him showing up.

Taehyung nodded. “Hi, shall we get started?” he asked.

You shoved the binder you’d been keeping notes in. You had named almost a hundred songs, enough to keep up for most of the night. People might request some songs to be repeated so it took care of that.

Taehyung sat with his arms in his lap, leaning forward as he let his eyes run down the listings.

“You already did the work?” he said, almost questioningly when his eyes spotted the bottom number. He looked confused for some reason.

“Well, yeah, you know you weren’t showing up so I just…did something around the first 50 songs. I did the rest last night.” You admitted.

He settled back into the seat. “I don’t understand; if you were going to just do the work yourself, why are you still waiting here?” he asked.

You blinked. “You said you’d come.” You said.

“Yes but,” he tapped the page, “You’re already done. Why wait for me?”

You shrugged, slurping at the straw of your chocolate milk. “It would’ve been rude to stand you up.”

Taehyung’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I can understand why you yelled at me last night.” He crossed his arms, still fighting a smile.

You couldn’t help but grin, placated that he was actually interacting with you. “Well, why did you show up then? I mean, you probably were just going to let me figure out the playlist while you sat there. Or did you actually have suggestions? We should add them.”

Taehyung grinned back now, a full rectangular smile stretching out his face adorably. “Well, it would’ve been rude to stand you up. Also, no, I think you pretty much got down all the popular hits. The most you could add are carols or classical covers and I doubt twenty something year olds care for that.”

“Uh, no…? Everyone loves carols, and I love piano covers.”

Your partner’s face was unreadable as he continued to stare at you silently. He looked away finally, “Then you’re probably one of the rare ones.” He said quietly.

Before you could argue he was standing. “Um, so if you don’t need me anymore, is it ok if I go?” he asked politely.

You nodded at him and he smiled quickly before walking away again, leaving you behind just as confused as you were when you first noticed him.

You didn’t see Taehyung again, not even on the last day before the party. You didn’t mind it this time. You had your songs; you submitted them to Hoseok and Jungkook promptly and glanced back at Taehyung’s empty seat.

Strange, you never knew Taehyung to ever miss a class.

Ok, so maybe you were much too curious about the boy. He was enigmatic, appeared mysterious yes, but he had done nothing to lead you on and you supposed you should cut your weird zeal to connect to him while it was in the bud.

Happily, the location was decided so everything was ready to go. Seokjin and Soojin’s war ended with the victory going to the sorority. The lavish party was going to be set in their mansion and you sighed in relief.

That takes care of at least the problem of having clean bathrooms. You decided not to think about what would contaminate those bathrooms surely.

“Taehyung didn’t come today?” Jungkook asked next to you.

You hummed, non-committal, focusing on the notes you were taking for Shua.

Jungkook shrugged, chewing his pen as he looked into you notebook to see a word. “Maybe he’s out celebrating his birthday. God knows he needs to get out.” He muttered – more to himself than you but your attention was quickly snatched.

“It’s his birthday?” You asked, your head whipping towards the boy.

“Uh huh, it’s on the student roster, remember?” Jungkook said.

You returned slowly to your notes but gave up your concentration.

It was Taehyung’s birthday, the 30th of December. He was only absent because he was probably doing that loner thing he always did on his birthday. Maybe he is out with what friends he did have?

You wanted to groan. Why did you care so much? What did it matter how Kim Taehyung was doing…on his birthday.

Although you shook yourself back to the course of the class, you knew you were going to pick up a gift and find him…no matter how much your rationale bemoaned the decision.

Keeping with your decision, you picked up the gift you’d already decided on in your mind and began the trek to his house. You hoped he wouldn’t think of you as unhealthily attached or just plain insane.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from knowing that there was something wrong with you.

Taehyung apparently lived with his family. It was easy to find his house in the small suburb sections. Your expectations of the house being simple were veered off course though.

It was a beautiful house. The outside was painted a sunny yellow, the door a simple white. Fencing lined the garden and innumerable flowers and plants lined the entire perimeter. The lawn was perfect and you knew would feel soft under your bare feet.

Carefully, you walked up the cobblestone path and raised your fist to knock before you could lose your nerve. It would be stupid to leave before giving him the purchase but you wondered if it would be less embarrassing if he laughed at you in the privacy of his home rather than in front of everyone at the university.

Before you could knock however, you were stopped by another sound. It was one you knew and loved dearly.

The tinkle of piano keys…

You listened as the soft tune played out before fading out again, the eruption of a child’s laughter interrupting the lull of the music.

“You brat; I’m not going to play for you ever again!” A louder, deeper voice yelled followed by more giggling, now from both males.

That was…Taehyung? The Taehyung who hunched and cooped himself into a shell…?

You couldn’t help it. You knocked.

The laughter slowed before stopping, the soft padding of feet on wood audible behind the door before it opened, revealing a very tall, very casual looking Taehyung, sporting an easy smile. The pretty smile faded immediately at the sight of, his eyes widening behind his Harry Potter glasses, mouth dropping open.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked.

You looked down to where a small boy poked his head through the gap of Taehyung’s arm.

“Uh…hi,” you said.

Taehyung didn’t reply, waiting for an explanation.

“I just…learned that it was your birthday.” You offered before fumbling in your bag, pulling out the wrapped gift. “I thought you’d like this.” You said.

Taehyung was slow to reach out, his fingers hesitant in taking the gift.

“Why?” he asked, still suspiciously staring at you.

“Uh, everyone should get presents on their birthday.” You said. The sentence sounded more a question to you than an answer.

“Hyung, is she your girlfriend?” the boy piped up, looking between his brother likely and you.

“No, kiddo, I’m just a friend.” You answered for him, smiling widely and fluffing his hair. He was cute, and had the same smile as his brother.

The boy giggled before rushing to hide inside.

“Well, thanks, I guess. Do you want to come inside?” Taehyung asked.

It was obvious he was being awkward. You hadn’t taken his family into consideration before showing up and wondered if he was worried about his brother saying something.

“No, I think I’m going to go actually. I heard you play though, it was beautiful.” You said, already backing away from his door.

Taehyung didn’t look surprised at that, smiling and looking down at his feet.

“Yeah, I love playing. Makes you look differently at things, you know?” he said softly, not looking at you.

Your feet stopped as you stared at him, framed in the white door with the shy blushing smile.

“Yes, it does.” You said finally.

The party started at 8, the four hours before New Year celebrated with drinking, eating, having sex with whomever you could find and in general being young before real life crushed you again.

You grinned when you saw the decorations, red, white and silver tastefully decorating the outside space while the inside was an explosion of confetti, glitter and balloons. The frat and sorority went all out, it seemed.

Hoseok and Jungkook accompanied you; suits on which you knew would disappear as soon as they could manage it. You had deigned to put on simpler attire, the long asymmetrical dress, being practical and fun at the same time.

Of course, as soon as you crossed the threshold, the three of you were separated quickly. Jungkook and Hoseok took off to prepare for their dance performance while your girl friends grabbed you to get at least one drinks in you – complimentary before they were all on your head.

And even though…even though you knew…absolutely knew that there were slim chances of Taehyung showing up at the party, you looked.

However, when you found not even a sign that Taehyung was there, you returned to the party. You’d worked hard and so had everyone in the room to put this together. It would be unfair to everyone, especially your friends to mourn over the absence of the man who’d already told you not to expect anything from him from the very beginning.

It was enough to say the party rocked. You were sure Shua would be proud and that she would be giving everyone extra credit for the work they put in.

Hoseok and Jungkook began the dance routine with Michael Jackson numbers before ending it with the Mean Girls sequence. By the time it ended, everyone was clutching their stitches, laughing hard enough that two girls had to leave to avoid vomiting.

They exited the stage, back in their suits, minus the jackets – red and flushed.

“Well, then, ladies, I suppose you need these.” You handed them two large solo cups.

Jungkook grabbed his, downing it one. “I didn’t think that’d be so embarrassing.”

“It was gold.” You argued.

Hoseok rolled his eyes, much better at handling humiliation as he glanced over your head. “I can’t believe this. Kim Taehyung actually came.”

Your head whipped around so fast, you almost gave yourself whiplash.

Sure enough, it was Taehyung.

Sleek in a brownish suit, he seemed to be having some difficulty maneuvering through the throngs of the people. His glasses perched nearly at the tip of his nose as he peered about for a way to escape.

“Excuse me,” You mumbled, leaving your friends to help the poor boy.

Was it you or did he actually look taller in the suit? Maybe he was just not hunching.

“Tae,” you called; the nickname slipping off your tongue with staggering ease.

Taehyung looked up at the sound of your voice, slipping into a bashful smile at the way you reached for him. Your hand clasped around his – large and warm – tugging him over to a clearer space.

“Hello,” he said softly, looking about as if someone was going to catch him and scream.

“Hi,” you replied, much amused.

Both of you stopped to gaze around each other. However, there was nothing reluctant about the vibe he had around you anymore. If anything, he seemed…shy.

“I thought you’d said you wouldn’t be coming.” You said, striking the conversation first.

Taehyung nodded quickly. “I did but…well; I had to change my mind. It was boring back home.” He explained.

“Understandable, but didn’t you have family over?”

“Yes, but my aunt has a bad habit of drinking and getting…annoying.” He lowered a full register to his voice and you had to stop yourself from fanning your face.

“That’s great Taehyung; I’m glad you’re here.” You said.

“Are you here with someone?” He asked suddenly.

Your smile faltered. “What, no; why do you ask?” You asked.

Now it was obvious he was flushing. “Just curious, I didn’t recall anyone saying anything about bringing dates.” He said.

You stared at him in contemplation. Was it possible he was hinting that he wanted to ask you? Why were you nervous about that?

“Ok, um…enjoy the party,” you murmured, waiting to see if he’d ask you to stay with him.

With the same unreadable face that you’d learned of Taehyung the first day, he watched you back away without another word.

When would he come to you of his own accord?

As it happened, it wasn’t you who approached him again. As you skulked around the back where Jungkook was having a beer pong competition, you felt a familiar presence appear at your elbow.

You turned to smile up at him. “Bored, already? Want to go home?” you asked.

Taehyung didn’t answer immediately, watching Jungkook closely as he shot the ball and it flew right into a cup. Jungkook raised his hand up in victory.

“Not yet; I was looking for you. I don’t talk…to anyone actually.” He said.

“Well, you should’ve said something when I was leaving you back there.” You muttered audibly and Taehyung turned, giving you a close look.

“Y/N,”

“Why don’t you play for us?” You interrupted.

“…what…?”

“Play, Taehyung, play for us, anything, the folks would love some Christmas carols if you want to play those.” You said.

But Taehyung had gone stiff. “No,” he said, harsh and final.

“Oh come on, you’re a brilliant musician. People would love it.” You cajoled.

“I have never played for anyone but my family. You just heard me on accident.”

“Or maybe it was meant to be, it wouldn’t hurt to try Tae,” You attempted to put a hand on his arm but he pulled away – gently but the repulsion was clear in his stance.

“No, thank you. I had a good time; I think I should go now.” He said his stoic face melting back into that unbreakable mask.

“Taehyung,”

He didn’t turn around, leaving you to stare behind him. This time you didn’t go after him.

The next few moments were tumultuous. You felt hurt, rejected by the way Taehyung repeatedly shunned your attempts to get him to follow his passions. Irritation and anger raced through you at the thought of being embarrassed time and again and having your friendship left behind…along with your feelings.

Of course, that soon faded as horror at what you’d done followed soon after. You had been so blind in trying to make Taehyung accept himself so that he might accept you that you had continually tried to force the very same notion on him. That he needed to be something he didn’t want to be to feel belonging.

If you could, you would kick yourself as you began the slow search of trying to find him.

“Seokjin,” you gasped, clutching the taller man’s shoulders; that he probably jumped a mile, at your rough appearance in front of him. “Have you seen Taehyung?” you asked.

“Taehyung…? Yeah, Kim Taehyung; he actually showed up, I was shocked man. He just went through the backstage.” He threw a thumb direction behind him and you let him go, cautiously making your way to the back.

Didn’t he want to leave? Did he just want to be away from you? Would he let you apologize?

You had just stretched out a hand for the handle to the back room when a familiar tinkle of piano keys erupted again. You froze, mid step.

The Bach tune continued to flow, uninterrupted when you realized. Soojin had probably left the microphone set near the small upright in the backroom where the stage was set.

Taehyung was playing right into the mike.

Everyone could hear him play.

And sure enough, people began to slow then stop in their conversation, focusing on the complicated jangle of beautiful piano playing.

Even Jungkook stopped his game, looking into the direction of the backroom, eyes wide.

“Dude, who is that…? That was genius.” Seokjin broke out.

You couldn’t stop it. He reached around, grabbing the door handle and turned it, throwing the doors open for everyone to see the maestro who had played.

The music abruptly stopped as the pianist started, fingers falling jarring on the ivory.

Taehyung looked like a deer in headlights. His glasses were back on the bridge of his nose, emphasizing his big, wide eyes. His mouth worded unknown into space as he stared haplessly at Seokjin who looked equally freaked at startling the other boy.

Then…his eyes fell on you.

You couldn’t explain the feeling, the emotion that churned behind those warm brown eyes but then it was gone as he got to his feet, almost stumbling on his shoes as he pushed past you and Seokjin into the main room.

The crowd erupted, cheering for him.

Taehyung didn’t stand around to receive any compliments, ignoring the claps on his back and praise as he dived headlong for the stairs and vanished – with you hot on his heels.

You followed Taehyung into the first empty bedroom he could find.

He ignored your presence completely, flopping onto the bed with his head in his hands.

You paused at the doorstep, taking in his slouching figure, feeling worse than when you’d run him off. You shut the door gently behind him, lingering far away, trying not to spook him.

“Taehyung,” you sighed finally.

“Did you plan that?” He asked, quietly, without removing his head from his hands.

Before, you might have been affronted, but you said nothing, choosing to sign a soft ‘no.’

Taehyung looked up, his face haggard as he examined you. “I believe you.” He said.

“You do?” You asked, surprised.

“Yes, you might be overly persistent but I don’t think you’re cruel.” He said volume still low.

You blinked. “But I wanted you to play; I pressed you – against your wishes.”

“Yeah, I did say you’re persistent.” He leaned back, the mask of disdain back on his face that you now realized he donned to run away.

“Why don’t you just spit out what you really feel?” You asked, feeling snappish.

Taehyung didn’t answer for a full minute, “I don’t like to play because it’s putting a part of me on display to a world that doesn’t care. It will mock a major like me doing something like that and I’m insecure enough to know that I would rather eat chalk than listen to people who don’t appreciate truly beautiful things berate me.”

You walked over, sitting down beside him; mulling his answer.

“I don’t know if you were too panicked to notice but the people downstairs were not laughing at you. If anything they loved what you did. I was there, right out the door and you know I wouldn’t lie to you about this. You mesmerized everyone in that room. I mean, even Jungkook looked away from his beer game and he looked shell shocked. You were fantastic and people were cheering you for it.”

You smiled wryly.

“Try getting people to leave you alone after today.”

“I don’t care about the rest. There’s only one person I don’t want leaving me alone.”

You looked at him to find him diligently staring at the floor, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looked like he was about to faint.

“Bet that took a lot for you to say,” You smiled, attempting to lighten his temperament. There was no telling; he might try jumping out the window.

“You have no idea. I think I might throw up. Run if I gag.” He muttered, glancing at you quickly when you snickered.

You waited till he was back to looking down before saying, “You know I meant it. They really loved it and were cheering you on. Nobody thinks you’re a freak or less than anything than who you are. I don’t either and I hope you know I really am telling the truth.”

“I know you are. I’m not that cut off from emotions, Y/N. They all sounded like my brother; I could tell they were screaming for me, not at me.”

You looked to the door.

“Oh god, we should go down! We’ll miss the ball drop.” You said, starting to stand when you felt something land on the edge of your mouth.

It took you a second to realize it was Taehyung – or rather Taehyung’s lips.

Your brain shifted to overdrive, hedging into faulty territory.

Turning to him, you allowed him to properly access your lips. You kept your eyes open, watching his being screwed tightly shut and brow furrowing. He pulled back after a few seconds of pressure.

He fluttered his eyes open, wide and slightly hazy as he focused on you. You stared back.

“Um, did I cross a line?” He asked, lowering his head like a reprimanded child. You had to smile at him.

“No, I’d be lying if I said I hated it.” You told him.

“But you didn’t like it, either,”

“I didn’t say that.”

Taehyung frowned at you in confusion.

“Would you believe me if I said that I might have been the one who actually wanted to do that?” You enquired quietly. Taehyung’s frown deepened.

“I wouldn’t, actually. What could’ve made you look at me like that? I’m not much special. I’m just struggling in existence.”

“You’re perfect to me, though. You have a beautiful mind and you drown me in it.” You stopped him.

His breath rushed out. “You really mean that,” He said in awe.

Deep brown orbs blew open behind his glasses as he stared at you as if you were the special one, not him. For many moments, you were trapped in that moment, in his gaze, he in yours as you both contemplated what this stretch of time could mean for the future. He dropped his eyes yet again, mask back on as he looked at the wall across. You yearned to reach out, to take his face in your palms, feel the texture of his skin against yours but you refrained.

He was fragile glass in this moment, one wrong move; one wrong touch could shatter what he was trying to build up.

“I…” Taehyung started, fading soon. You waited patiently.

“I really want to try…being with you…like a boyfriend but,” He gave you an agonized look. “I don’t know anything about it. I’m being honest; I have nothing much to offer to you. I can’t just change overnight – you know that. So I guess the choice lies with you. If you want to be with me, if you don’t…it’s up to you. I’m just saying, if you do choose me over everything then…just please, be patient with me. It’ll take me a while but eventually I think I can take you to a party and stuff.” He tried a smile that looked like he was in pain but to you he was still beautiful.

You nodded, both of you looking around when a large ticking and countdowns from ten started downstairs.

“So, what do you choose?” Taehyung asked, drawing your attention back to him.

You waited right until the crowd below screamed one before you let him know.

You kissed him.

The house exploded with cheers while the space between you and Taehyung slowed till nothing moved; the moment stretching on as your lips landed full on his mouth, coaxing him to move. He was frozen against you, a statue that had oddly burning lips which you relished in, tugging at the petals till he was groaning something unintelligible.

You pushed away from him, keeping your hands to yourself and a smile on your face, watching his own open after two seconds. He was fully red, flushed to his hair line.

“Happy New Year, boyfriend,” you teased, watching his eyes glimmer before looking down at your lips again.

“That felt nice. Better than I imagined,” He teased right back.

You grinned at him, heady. “With that attitude, you’ll be the life of the party you take me to.”

Taehyung shook his head at you, smiling as he leaned in again, gently placing his forehead against you, still unsure of his actions. “Happy New Year, girlfriend,” He pulled you back in for a kiss and this time, it felt like everyone was cheering for you two.

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts fanfic #bts fluff #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts #bach bencher

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rosesnoguns · 6 years

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Christmas gains

anyone else superdieting before Christmad days?

#thinspo #thin #thinspiration #skinny #weight loss #dieting #anamia #arm thinspo #collarbones #bones #ultimate goal weight #weight loss motivation #no motivation #gains #fear food #Christmas #christmas food #christmas feels

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conversionalist · 3 years

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Problems with Christmas!

Before someone starts to tell me I know nothing I am Christian (Catholic to be specific) and I celebrate Christmas. But I do have four problems with that time, which I think should be talked over.

Before we start I would like to explain how I see Christmas so we all have the same definition of this holiday, so it's possible to talk about it (if you disagree with what I will say about Christmas you are welcome to comment your own opinion). Christmas started as religious holiday installed by Christians at that time so it would be easier to change people's religion to Christian. Now it's commonly celebrated even by those who don't believe in Jesus. It's a time we spend with friends and family, celebrating birth of Christ or just our families, we sing Christmas songs, have a dinner on Christmas Eve(I heard sometime it's breakfast at 1st day of Christmas(25.12), sometimes both) and of course favourite part of any child, we get presents delivered to us by Santa, or other figure. So it's time for family and happiness. Now let's see my problems with that picture perfect holiday.

Problem number 1: Being a "good" person

Now before you comment, hear me out. This is the "problem" I have least issues with but it still annoys me to an end. During Christmas time I observed that most people are like : "I need to give some money to charity/someone homeless, then I will do my "good deed" and I will be a good person." Which, you want to help? Great! But what annoys me is helping only on Christmas to feel like a good person, you should help whenever you can, not only when December 25 is creeping closer. You get my point? You help During Christmas that's awesome keep doing it, but if you are able help some other time too. So it's not exactly a problem but behaviour that annoys me a little bit because that help then feels a bit fake for me, but tell me your opinion on that one in the comments.

Problem number 2 : Preparing Christmas Eve

Now that problem depends on a house I guess, but I've seen it in mine and in multiple others so I decided to mention it. While Christmas is time when we show our family how much we appreciate them, preparing for it is definitely not. Christmas Eve Dinner always needs to be perfect which causes fights. In my house, for instance, it is basically a shouting match all the time, no matter how much you do to help it's never enough, so instead of it being happy time baking with smiles on our faces, it's more like a crew trying to survive on a ship that's drowning, it just feels impossible to breathe. So by the time we all sit down by the Christmas Table I'm after at least one mental breakdown, there were at least three crying sessions (from me, my siblings or my mother) and all I want is to go to sleep and never wake up again, instead I need to celebrate Christmad with my family and a smile on my face. So I don't know if you also experience something like that I hope not but I heard about enough places where its similar, but I always feel like Christmas loses its meaning because of that. Is it similar with you?

Problem number 3 : People from other religions

As I said there are people from different religions or those who don't believe in God at all who celebrate Christmas, but sometimes laws in their religion prohibit them from celebrating Christmas. Sometimes they have different celebration in that time, but sometimes their religion demands they celebrate in different time. The issue here is that its hard for them to get a break from work/school for their own celebration. In my opinion they should work during Christmas and have a free time when they need it (kids could be sent material that will be reached in that time or something). If you have that problem, do you think it would be a good solution? If not, what solution do you propose?

Problem number 4 : Christmas "spirit"

Last but definitely not least as that is the problem that even though it may not seem as most vital annoys me to moon and back. I don't want to destroy so called "Christmas atmosphere" but please I'm begging you, Christmas songs in a radio and decorations in shops starting in November is just too much. It would be OK if it started as Advent does (Advent is the period of time (four sundays) where Christians are waiting for God to be born), as Christmas is a holiday with deep Christian roots I think it would be proper to use start of Advent as a start of songs and decorations. But no let's start at the beginning of November and finish at the end of January. All in all, by the time Christmas is here most of the people I have spoken to and I are all fed up with "Christmas atmosphere" and just want it to finally end. But there is also another part of that problem, Christmas gadgets, they are usually useless and one time usage only, so not only not all of them are sold, but also most of them lands in trash just after Christmas. Why is it so essential? Because we are polluting our planet more and more, while producing those things, and then throwing them out after none or one usage. It's a waste of resources on enormous scale. Which really is going to mostly hurt young people and their children.

What are your opinions? Do you also find those problems annoying? Maybe you have ideas for solutions? Or maybe you think that I'm completely wrong? Please share your opinion and have a nice Christmas!

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roscgcld · 7 years

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Christmas! - Kingsmen and Statesmen Preferences

Merry Christmad and have a Happy New Year everyone! c:

Kingsmen:

Eggsy: he loves christmas with a passion, so it was no surprise when he was more than happy to be in charge of christmas decorations this year. He immediately started shopping for things like christmas cards, secret santa gifts and christmas decorations right after thanks giving, and both of you spent a lot of bonding time together decorate the entire house so it looks like a christmas wonderland. He even got JB a christmas pug sweater when you two went shopping for ugly christmas sweaters. Being typical Eggsy, he got a lot of gifts for you, like he always does, so the bottom of your huge christmas tree was very crowded with secret santa gifts [ since he offered it as the christmas venue for the annual christmas party]; but he made sure everything looked so cozy that you couldn’t deny him of anything as you two counted down the days to chrismas. You prepared a lot of things like a roast and traditional puddings the night before christmas eve, and Eggsy tries to steal a bite from time to time until you sent him away in a fit of giggles to get some chocolate, to which he laughs and kissed you on the forehead before he left

Harry: he is a very simple man, so when December finally rolled around, he let you do all the shopping for whatever you wanted to put in the house. The only thing he demanded for was an actual christmas tree, as he enjoys the smell of pine leaves, so you two went a pick out a tree before bringing it home to decorate it with all the christmas ball balls that you have bought for the house this year. He was a litte hesitant when you brought up the idea of ugly christmas sweaters, but after you convinced him by promising to bake some gingerbread men for him, he gave in. As for gifts, he made sure to buy all of the gifts whenever you aren’t home so you aren’t tempted to peaked into them and find out what he bought for you. He was also given a name for secret santa this year, and you two decided to bring some of your famous gingerbread men and women for everyone to try during the christmas party this year. You did try to teach Harry how to bake, and he was surprisingly good at it, so you two managed to finish baking the cookies and even had a glass of wine each before going to bed for the night.

Merlin: before he met you, he would have worked through christmas eve and christmas itself since he had no one to celebrate it with. But after he met you, he made sure to take a week off, which shocked every kingsmen member; but he just ignored their shocked looks and went back to spent his off time with you. Both of you had a fun time picking decorations and a christmas tree since he doesn’t have any, and neither did you; it was also very intimate as you two never had so much free time like this. Afterwards you two had even more fun decorating the entire house; you had experience before since your family loves the holidays, so Merlin jut followed you around and helped you whenever you need him too. As for gifts, he just got you whatever you wanted, which isn’t really a proper gift, but you two were very open with each other with no secrets, so it wasn’t a major problem for you. You two went around getting gifts for friends and family and spent some time together wrapping all of them; plus you got many new videos of Merlin just being downright frustrated at small things like tape or wrapping paper. You two decided to bring the drinks to the christmas party this year, so Merlin and you just brought one of his favourite scotch [ and even had a few drinks yourselves ]

Roxy: she was a person who loves to help others, so during the month of december you two mostly did more charity work than anything else really. you two had helped with bake sales, handing out gifts to the homeless and a few orphanages, and participated in christmas carols in your part of town. you two only had a simple tree in your living room, with gifts underneath the tree for family and friends. This year was a little different because you two decide to do a Christmas gift advent calendar for each other for 25 days, so yo two small gifts to hide around the house and each morning, you two had to go downstairs to open a note with your daily clue in it from two separate wooden advent calendars that you found in a vintage store. It was a fun thing to look forward to every morning besides her pancakes. You two also loved to just watch every christmas movie under the sun every night before you two go to bed, along with having some popcorn or crisps, as you two unwind from a busy day of charity work or just spending time with friends and family outside of work. Roxy had decided to be in-charge of entertainment this year for the christmas party, so you two had good bonding moment trying to figure out what games that you two wanted to include that night.

Statesmen:

Tequila: he would usually go out on christmas night and get drunk or high off his kite. But this year, he decide to take on a more laid back role and spend it with you. You two decided not to go to the christmas party, opting to spend it with each other instead. So you two decorated a simple miniature christmas tree, and hung a bunch of lights and decorations on the plants you are so fond of growing around the house, plus you two weren’t keen on the thought of removing the massive tree later. You two bought a few gifts for each other, and other gifts like the gift he got from his secret santa, a few gifts sent over by family members, and a few gifts from your friends from work. You two spent christmas eve with each other, with the typical roast and gravy, and on christmas you two decided to just have family around since you have never met his family before and wanted to see them for once. It may not have been a very rowdy and excited christmas for Tequila, but he feels like he enjoys it even more like this - spending it with family and friends, and more importantly spending quality time together with you and creating memories with each other.

Whiskey: he has always been a family man, so it was no surprised when he decided to spent majority of his time with his family back in his hometown. This year was a little different because he was bringing you home to visit his family. You were pretty nervous that his parents didn’t like you, or that you will suddenlt mess up the visit; but it went amazing. You were immediately accepted into the family with open arms, and everyone loves you. You had a blast with the kids as well, which warmed Whiskey to the heart, and he was grateful that you were his gift after he lost his wife. You two went around visiting other friends, but even than you two didn’t skimp much on the decorations in your home; you two went all out with the huge christmas tree and the thousand of fairy lights all over your home. You two did get gifts for each other, and because his family is huge, the once quiet vacant tree was suddenly flooded with presents. You two also sent out a lot of homemade cards to everyone you could think of, and even went around town sliding them into the mailboxes of people’s homes or just handing them out to people in public. You two did drop by eggsy’s house to hand out gifts and hand out the secret santa gifts, but you all immediately went home after a little to spent it with friends and family

Ginger Ale: You two are very simple people, so you two just did the basic of everything to just get into the christmast spirit. You two decided to reuse your old christmas tree that Ginger bought awhile back - it’s a fake tree with built in lights. You two loved to get each other things all the time, so it was hard to figure out what to get for each other during christmas, but eventually you two did manage to get something for each other for christmas. Ginger and you designed a few digital cards that you sent to everyone you knew, some were of cartoons dancing while others were of very pretty christmas lettering, and a few more. You two like to spend majority of the time with friends and family, so you two went out almost every day to go either have fun or visit family in various parts of the country. But during christmas, after returning on christmas eve from a long holiday to your parents’ place, you two decided to go and have fun at Eggsy’s. You two exchanged secret santa gifts and spent a great time with your co workers , and all in all it was an amazing way to end christmas.

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the-countessa · 8 years

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Embrace the suck...it's gonna be a long ass night

It is not that I no longer care, because I do, and always will; not matter how angry, how hurt, how used up I feel, and without rhyme or reason, I always shall care. I'm always going to keep an eye on his facebook to make sure he is still alive and ok. I'm never going to stop wishing things were different or hoping like hell they're gonna change, or get something back from before. And I mean wish, and hope and hell, even prey (my version anyway) But I simply cannot have the person that he has become in my life. Too much hurt; too many times times over the last four and a half years of being treated (as he is fond of saying) like a cunt. Cheated on when we were dating, lied to repeatedly, and my feelings being railroaded. Then when I sat there, angry and upset, demanding to be treated with respect and consideration; well, with each time, it's become harder and harder for him to see. And treating my pain as insignificate and only from some shallow places of jealousy. And yes, even I can see the obserdity of it, to end it all over, as he sees it, pizza. But after so long of looking after him, since the very beginning back in Gravesend when we first hung out and he was unemployed, buying him food, trying to keep him going as best as I could. All I have ever done really. After doing that and being treated so badly and used up, when I needed him to simply return the damn favour when I had no food and no money, I get thrown out on my arse, for a date? And the ironic thing is, the bit he doesn't know, I actually like the idea of this one... But after so long giving and giving and giving; after him banging on about gratitue and friendship and giving back, he simply failed. Failed again. Failed me. And then to have the line "You're not my enemy, you'll just be another 'friend' that's decided to not talk to me anymore." as though I haven't tried time and time again, as though nothing I have ever done made any sort of matter; not Christmas (not good enough), not his birthday (too depressed), not paying for food, gym clothes, warhammer boards, taxis to and from a&e, not all the time I cooked dinner, did the laundry, made the bed, bought the linin and kitchen crap, not the running to the chemist when he was sick...not the sex, dating, friendship. None of it. And no, that doesn't mean I've forgotten what he did for me...but it doesn't balance the books. He let me move in with him, rent free, to get me away from my dad who was close to driving me to suicide; but that he had someone to pay for food whilst he wasn't working, pay the rent when he couldn't manage it (once? twice?). And arrangment of mutual conveniance that saved him just as much as it did me. Yeah, he paid out for some great nights out, but so did I...but it hurt more to pay for tickets to go up to London and watch him butterfly his arse around his friends, only to return for a drink. Hell, I paid for his birthday and for him to be at my own. The books just no longer balance, and there is only so much one can put up with until you wonder "why am I here? How can this be friendship when I feel like I am trying to constantly please you, only to have it go unnoticed, unmentioned?' I was always the first to fight his corner and the last out the ring, no matter what. But more and more he says and does things that leave me speechless and sick. A mutual friend lost the love of her life a couple of weeks before christmas; he'd have rather spent his money on a bottle of booze than support her. Even heard tell that she offered to pay for him to go to the memorial, just because she wanted him there...he couldn't muster up enough friendship to support someone who has truely lost something vital. December again, I spent a small fortune on a long month doing everything I could to make it good for him, almost the way you would for a child. And after forking out over £60 for his birthday, paying for him to come out for mine...couldn't even manage a 99p birthday card. What did he say to me the day before Christmad Eve, something about him rather spending his money making him happy. Not a thought to giving back. Halloween; I get sexually assulted, and what frightened me most was him pining me to the bed with his hands around my throat screaming at me. And promptly throwing me out. Ignored me for three days. Told me how his hands around my throat was my fault. The wife beater excuse, the line of domestic abusers, that it was asked for. And that's now ironically been capped off with him telling me to report the abusive bastard who lives next door. And that is who he is. A lying, cheating, violent, angry, bitter man, so self obsessed that if he were to read this, would be more concerned about him image than that he has hurt and terrified the person who has done more good things for him than most. So self-serving, he's rather date than help a friend who sucked up their pride and fear and asked for just a little help. So hypocritial, he bangs on about how pro-feminist he is, how much he understands mental health because he has problems too, that he oh so easily paints me as the Crazy ex-GIRLfriend, throws my depression in my face, hell, even the other day he was pulling at the thread of someones BPD. So obssesed with this idea he has of happiness, that he doesn't spair a thought for those he climbs over to get to it. So weighed down with his past, so stuck there, that any female worth a damn couldn't get through; more in love with what has gone that he barely appreciates what he has. Ok, so exactly true; he has been more than happy to praise everyone else who has helped him (joint incommers or people who have had a sudden windfall) just not me. The one who the second she can't afford to keep him is told "If someone offers to pick me up n feed me for free then sorry but I'm gonna take it." turning his date into little more than a meal ticket and showing me that I am no longer of any use. What was the point of me? That isn't even a drop in the ocean of it all; so much over the last four and a half years. And memories that should be good are now completely tainted. I managed 28 years on this earth without one real regret, until now. And that is I regret having ever met him. And that is heart crushing. That is what drives me into a bottle and into a packet of little blue pills. For my shame. So, how can I still care for someone, after all that? Maybe everyone, his people and mine, are right, Im just abused and frightened and simply stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe I am right, maybe underneath it all, the fear and anger and confusion, there is a good soul. Or maybe my mother is right and he is suffering from some serious mental health issue. I just don't know anymore. But still, how in the hell can I still find it in me to give a damn and wish we could go back? It's fucked up. I don't know if he'll read this. I hope he does. I really hope he does. I know he'll be fuming, see it as an attack or bitchfest. But honestly, I just want, and he needs to see that he cannot go on this way. That this, who he has become and what he is doing is not good or right, for the best, or anyone elses fault but his own. And fix it! No one else can. I am not just some 'friend', I was your best friend who would have done anything to keep you from drowning. I did not decide to not talk to you, I am just simply unable to talk without wanting to scream and shout and cry and hope like hell something finally gets through that thick skull of yours! And no, I am not the only one. Hell, my family hates him now; even my own mother, who opened her home to him after he cheated on me with Jasz because I asked her to, who stood by me during so many arguments and rows before Christmas to ensure that he wasn't alone wants to clobber him (though, as I keep telling her, she is disabled and probably would not get very far). And as for his friends? How many of them told me to run, call him a snake, have told me how they are done with his melodrama and bullshit...and not just the ones who show two faces, but the genuine good ones have basically decided that they are done. I'm sure that will send him into a rage, but I should be clear that no, I haven't been slagging him off to everyone and their mother just to get that response because I have been begging everyone to tell me I am wrong. And trying like hell to make sure these people stay close enough in his life to keep an eye on him. I do not want him to loose his people because (so long as he doesn't continue to alienate them) he will need them. It hurt to see him advertise a gig for a band that he knows I love, that he promised to take me to, because he cut me out. It hurts to read him alter history just enough that I loose my place it in. It all hurts and I get angry and yes I lash out. Because it is unfair and crule. But I'll get over that all in time...a very, very, very long ass time. What I shall not get over is his self-distruction. Ok, maybe we no longer fit in one anothers life; but to watch hin waste his life, ignore his health, and basically act more like a child than the almost 40 year old adult is driving me nuts. I want to shake him. No, I want to tie him to a chair whilst I beat him with a basebalk bat yelling "I love you but sort you fucking shit!" Own your mistakes. Admit to them. See yourself for what you really are, and fucking well fix them! Take a long hard look at your life, stop blaming others and walking around with a chip on your shoulder like the Universe owes you something and get the hell over it. And take a long hard look at everything you have done to me over the last four and a half years, be honest with yourself about your actions, your behaviour; from the editing of a truth to "save" my feelings, to the outright lies, cheating, using my body like I was a whore (a post for another time, but fucking someone without eye contact, without a simple sodding kiss, and with what we did, without basic aftercare, I have come away with some serious issues in regards to sex...on top of a sexual assult) and see through my eyes. See how it looks and feels to always be dropped by you best friend for the same reason time and time again, sex. No other reason, not for family or friends or emergancies or work or anything, just sex. Just open your eyes. All this writing, all these words are for me, and though I know he will be angry for it, I hope that there is an understanding (finally) that this silly little account is the one corner of the internet is mine. And surely a hell of a lot better than posting it to facebook. And Id never be able to say these things to him, because his anger would stop him from actually listening and just start shouting me down. I don't honestly know if he'll read this, but I hope he gets to the end. I hope he reads and dwells and thinks and learns and changes. I do not know how to get out of this blackhole, I only know that he is the only one with the power to do so. All I can do is make an attempt to follow a little of my own advice. I am lacking for a life, but I am working on it. Not to spite him, but regardless of him, I need it. And I need to follow my passion too. Something that makes me happy, that I hope may bring joy to others. You broke my heart, and my spirit, but I shall rebuild me. A better me. Me who will be just as giving and as loving as I always have. And I sincerly hope he can do the same because he is on a path to his own personal hell, and to stay in his sphere right now will only drag me down with him. I cannot allow that. And once he has fixed him, maybe he'll come find me, and maybe he can lay some groundwork to fix us, better than before. But no one can live on just hope forever. Anyway, if you stuck with this long ass post, thanks. And ten points to you. I realise it's filled with melodrama and meloncolly...and god awful spelling errors, but I dont have a spell check and it is below freezing and I am smoking up a storm as I type. And it's dark too since we've blown a fuse at the homestead. But I am an emotive person, a quite a talking, and a classic over thinker whose mind has literally been stuck on this issue for the last 2 weeks and 6 days. And people have told me to talk to him, but I know he will not listen to me, so I figured, try here? Maybe something might get through? And maybe, I can expell some of this negativity and pain so I can move on, in that healthy mature sort of way. Anyway, I guess that's it. XOXOX

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