#the boarding cats were upstairs and the people who were assigned to take care of them sometimes forgot they were there

[daughterofsarenrae]

2, 6, 12, and 15 :0!!!

2: what dish would you bring to a potluck with all your mutuals?

Answered here!

6: if money and social constructs were no object, what sort of clothes would you wear?

Oh man this stumped me. Idk what style is or how to label it u know. Ig just like. I mainly wear outdoorsy clothes? Very meh on clothes tbh. I would bring back cloaks tho

12: what animal do you know too many things about? Care to share some fun facts?

I am actively running a touch table with bird bones/feathers etc so ur gonna get some random bird trivia!

-If u take a pile of bird bones and a pile of bird feathers, the feathers would weigh more, sometimes by 2 or 3 times

-the biggest bald eagle nest we've found was 8 feet across, 18 feet deep, and weighed 2 tons

-kestrels only weigh 1/4 of a pound, so a stick of butter. Or 34 pennies

-Bald eagles can see a fish in the water from a mile up

-vultures are sometimes used to detect gas leaks- the chemical causing the gas scent is also part of that good carrion smell, so if you see a congregation of vultures around where a gas pipeline is and there's no food, the pipes should probably be checked

-bird eyes are spherical, theyre roundish at the front and flare out at the back & are held in place by a ring of bone. This gives them better eyesight at the expense of being able to look around without moving their head, hence the huge amount of rotation in their necks

-owl feathers have a fringed edge, letting them fly silently (but slowly). Other raptors have a smooth edge, letting them fly quickly (but loudly)

15: what was your first proper job? Do you have any interesting stories from it?

Oh boy it was a kennel tech at a uh. Shitty Vet in alabama. Very much a $ over pets kinda place. I only lasted like 2? 3? Months there. Most of my stories are more like horror stories than fun. I did get to walk a goat around on a leash for a while! That was fun

[post-itpenny]

❝ You can never trust a monster. ❞

It’s been waaaaay too long since I’ve written anything. So how about a DBD fic?

Can’t Go Back

He had gotten used to sneaking around. Thomas supposed it wasn’t any different to all the old buildings he and his friends used to explore back in his old life. Ducking under collapsing fences and “keep out” signs. Hiding from security guards assigned to keep nosy people out of abandoned places.

Thomas honestly found it refreshing to pick up old habits. He had explored a couple places quite a bit, normally avoiding the inhabitants however, he had experienced a few close calls. One trip to Midwich nearly ended with Thomas spending the night in the clocktower to hide from Pyramid Head. Several visits to the Wrecker Yard had earned a surprise run-in with The Wraith who thankfully was just as spooked to find Thomas there and merely escorted the survivor to the gate. Thomas went on to visit a few more times and ended up learning The Wraith’s name was Philip, and was a surprisingly chill guy.

He had also tried saying hello to The Witch the few times he saw her stalking through the trees in passing. She would always slow down and stare at him, reminding Thomas very much of a cat looking down at you from above, confused by your behavior.

As he walked through the foggy woods towards today’s destination he began to wonder if perhaps he should invite one of the others to join him. Mary seemed ok, so had Steve and Nea, maybe they would be up for this kind of stuff.

But today was a solo visit for a reason.

It was always strange crossing from the woods to one of the killer’s realms. But the jarring transition into the theater never ceased to throw him for a moment. Thomas had no choice but to go through one of the only two entrances. Either the front doors, or a backdoor behind the stage. Ironically enough Thomas knew it was better to take the front, knowing the realms owner would be most likely stalking around the stage.

The theater smelt of ash despite not looking like the burnt wreck he knew it to actually be. Dusty and old yes, but not the barren and burnt wreck covered in years of grime and graffiti that he had first seen in what felt like a lifetime ago. He wondered if perhaps this was Irene’s doing. He had noticed it with her too when in trials. Underneath the expensive perfume she always wore- the slightest smell of burnt skin.

There was a sound, the soft sigh of keys on a piano dancing up scales. Thomas froze, taking in what should have been stange and out of place but in truth the sound felt natural. Erie, but as if it was always here and a part of the realm’s atmosphere.

Thomas crept along the halls and along the rows of seats. Irene sat at an old piano on the stage. Head bowed, eyes closed, a soft melody slowly taking shape as her fingers ran up and down keys. Thomas’ heart pounded, this was dangerously close to trouble but too thrown off by how calm and at peace the killer looked. For once she was not scowling, but as if her mind was somewhere else and at some degree of peace. “The Muse” was a name that grated on his nerves and certainly not one he picked. But in this moment Thomas could see that it was indeed a good fit.

A part of him actually felt tempted to stay and listen, but Thomas had come for a reason and could not waste the opportunity of Irene being distracted.

Thomas took a steading breath, dropping to his hands and knees to crawl between the seats towards the far side of the auditorium.

“Good evening.”

His heart dropped, skin growing cold. Thomas curled in on himself at the sound of Irene standing up from the piano.

“While I am normally quite happy to entertain an audience, this was not a scheduled performance. Don’t think you can hide.”

Thomas was shaking, how did she catch him? But it was too late to hide, better to show himself and prepare to run. He took a deep breath and stood up.

Irene was gone.

Thomas blinked, then blinked again, before bolting to the far side of the auditorium.

Part of him cursed himself for not just running for the exit, but his mind had still been on his mission. Entering a hallway and down a set of stairs. A boarded up window at the far end.

“It won’t work.”

Thomas skidded to a stop, slowly turning to find Irene calmly standing behind him. A hammer in hand.

She had gone to grab a weapon apparently.

Irene smiled, “well hello Thomas.”

Thomas scowled, trying not to flinch as she tightened her grip on the weapon.

“It won’t work you know. Trying to go back the way you arrived. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news my dear but you can’t leave, none of us can.”

“Where's the sword?”

“It needs sharpening,” Irene responded with a casual shrug as she stepped forward. “Are you so desperate to come here? What's the matter Thomas have you not made any friends? I assumed you and the others were quite good chums. The chorus often forms a rather endearing bond with each other.”

“Oh and I’m sure you’re so popular.”

Irene scowled but before she could retort there came a strange shift in the air along with frighteningly familiar groans and whispers of The Entity.

Thomas shouted in surprise as Irene lunged for him, only instead of attacking she grabbed his arm.

“What the fuck are you-”

“Quiet! We only have a minute to get out of the way.”

She dragged him upstairs and into one of the box seats. The door slamming shut behind them and the lights dimming until they were left in the dark.

Irene sat down and smoothed her clothes, gesturing to a chair next to her, “it looks like you will be joining me for the show today. Sit”

The order irritated him, but the thought of sitting next to Irene was honestly frightening. The killer sighed in frustration and yanked him into the chair. They watched as the theater rearranged itself. Familiar loops, vaults, and pallets materializing as generators arose out of a low fog.

A trial was starting.

Directly below their seats Philip appeared from nothing. The killer briefly looked up at the two of them before turning to the sound of what could only be a survivor desperately trying to sneak away. Someone must have spawned in right next to The Wraith, how unlucky.

Thomas stood up wanting desperately to beg Philip to not go for whoever it was before a hand clamped over his mouth. The smell of roses and burnt skin filling his nose.

“If you interfere we will both be forced to leave.” Irene hissed in his ear before pulling him back down into his seat.

It was Mary who had The Wraith’s attention, she dogged around his attacks with ease and escaped into the darkness of the theater. Thomas was forced to watch as David would not be so lucky. Claudette after that.

“You can never trust a monster Thomas dear.” Irene mused, casually watching  the scene below as Claudette’s screams faded away. “But are they all not monsters? I’ve seen how quickly your combined altruism fades, how numb you become to each other's pain when one cannot keep up with their part. Hurt too often and too much a burden to heal, miss one too many cues, the ones left behind at the end. Are you all not monsters too?”

“I don’t kill people.”

“I’m not talking about that.”

“We forgive each other afterwards.” Thomas snapped in a harsh whisper. “We care about each other.”

“You don’t trust any of them and we both know it. Why defend them when you are better off without?”

“Why act like you care?”

“I don’t, but you and I are a set. Not co-leads but still counterparts. Allowed to be here because we are here together.”

“So you picked me over Dinah on purpose?”

“Your sister?” Irene paused, as if unsure how to answer. In the distance a generator sounded off.

“I wanted you both.” Irene finally answered. “I was told I could only have one however. But if she held on I would have been allowed you both. Our director mentioned something about timing you see but… If she held on I would have had you both.”

For the rest of the match, they sat in silence. There was nothing else to be said.

[hansolmates]

vernon; get lost in the rhythm of me

Summary: She had less than a month to finish a project she should’ve finished ages ago, and on a whim decides to interview the campus radio show. Little did she know she’d get locked into the Thursday Night Lockdown with a certain campus cutie. Wow I’m sorry I suck at summaries please send help.

Characters: fratboy!Vernon/Original Female + various

Genre: Fluffity fluff (and if you count student stress a lil wittle angst)

Word Count: 5896

01 | 02(?) | 03 (m)(?)

“There’s that dance team that covers songs, you can write about them?”

“I already checked with their e-board, they’re too busy for an interview.”

College Avenue was littered with students after the final 4:10 session, the kids excited for the week to be over as they walked around like busy ants. Despite the nippy weather, Greek Row was still going strong, so strong that we couldn’t get past the student center without hearing the cacophonous noise pollution coming from the different houses. I totally got it though, considering it was a hard week of exams for everyone. It was lucky enough for us to go to a big university where students could cry and party together. A little part of me itched to go grab a drink from one of their coolers, but I promised myself that I couldn’t have fun until I figured out my final project topic for Media Studies. The topic that I was supposed to have down over a month ago.

(Last Tuesday, 4:33:

“I’m doing a compilation on popular YouTube artists,” Joshua informed, taking a long sip of his iced Americano. .

“Ah. Should I get the small or medium?” I asked distractedly, my eyes calculating how much more content I would get in my smoothie if I got the bigger size.

“I’m almost done with my project, maybe you should start soon.” he continued, probably glaring holes into my back because I wasn’t paying the least bit attention to him.

“Do you think I should get extra bananas in my drink? How can you even tell if there’s extra bananas when it’s all mixed up?”

“And I’ve also discovered aliens are real.” Joshua drolled, unamused as he swirled the caramel in his drink. “Their mothership came to my dorm last night, and now I’m pregnant with the Queen’s future heir to the throne. So nice knowing you, I’m glad to have a friend who’s always willing to listen to me!”

Needless to say, I didn’t have my work cut out for me.)

Joshua stopped in his tracks, and by my demise I had to stop in front of him, my neck narrowly missing the sharp corner of his textbook that was sticking out of his backpack. “Did you see that?” he asked, practically pulling my arm from the socket so I’d be right in front of him.

Sigma Tau (notorious for having the prettiest pink house on Row) had a lawn practically spilling with loud students, with equally loud music drowning out their block.

On the makeshift plastic and metal stage, a guy with flowers was on one knee looking like the high heavens as his lips moved in some sort of proposal. The girl who was forcefully dragged up by her sisters looked absolutely mortified, cheeks ruddy, face sunken, and her pale limbs hugged around her t-shirt that was now way too skimpy for her comfort level. The guy was absolutely smug however, looking like he just won a trip to Mars as he practically dipped the rose petals in her palms. But everyone was watching, cooing and making eager, alcohol-laden cries of encouragement, and she had no choice to accept, her face tilted away as she reluctantly grabbed the bouquet.

“Seungcheol is so embarrassing,” Joshua muttered under his breath, pulling them away from the lawn and back onto the sidewalk, “She looks terrified up there.”

I frowned at the childish proposal, watching the couple (?) pull away from the stage and melt between the thick crowd. “I feel bad for her.” I frowned, forcing my gaze to the DJ. The rosy-haired student flipped a switch in his soundboard, and played another upbeat mix, effectively bringing the mood back to a million.

Joshua bobbed his head to the everlasting beat as they walked further away, in that cute non-party boy way that looked more like he was walking down Disney’s Main Street, U.S.A. with birds and sunshine rather than a Thirsty Thursday on campus. “Oh, I got it. What about the radio show?” he suddenly asked, his face glowing with excitement.

“Radio show? Like the campus one?”

“Yeah, there’s one for every day of the week. You can probably go tonight and see if you can snag an interview or something.”  Joshua dragged us to the pizza place by one of the main classroom buildings, the aroma of garlic buttered dough and tomato sauce notifying my empty stomach like lightning.

“The mac n’ cheese pizza looks good,” I murmured, my eyes glazing over the shiny window display.

“Are you paying attention? You should go before their show starts because we have to have our topics before class tonight and—oh shit that does look good. Let's get two slices. With garlic knots.” his large cat eyes widened at the specialty pizza, ready to pull out his wallet. “I can spot you this time.”

Nudging his shoulder with mine I giggled, “You're a lifesaver.”

I blame the food coma from that sinful pizza, because after napping in the dorms it nearly escaped my mind that I was supposed to go to the radio station after class. By napping, I mean sleeping. Missing the first campus bus, it took an extra fifteen minutes to get to the Communications Department. It looked like any other building on campus, faded brick walls which veiled a treasure cove of our student talent. The lights that led to the station upstairs were a dim deep yellow, bathing the atrium that led to a series of dark hallways.

“Excuse me,” I said, careful not to disturb the student in the lobby who was currently alphabetizing records behind their desk. “Are you, DJ Suga?”

Said boy took his sweet ass time to turn around, his glazed eyes giving me a look that wondered why on earth I was here so late. He wore a dark denim jacket with a poorly painted uterus on the back, with a very subtle wording of “fuck the patriarchy” in fine white script. “Yeah, I am.” he said, his pebbly voice wracking my form and waking up all the hairs on my arms. DJ Suga was the de facto head of the campus radio, and at best I hoped he could be a tad less irritable to my outreach. “What of it?”

“I was wondering if I could get an interview with one of your DJs? If there’s time.”

The ebony haired student tilted his head, as if he were momentarily stuck in dreamland, before pulling himself away from his desk. “Let’s see,” he hummed, more to himself as he walked down one of the dark hallways. He returned in a matter of seconds, his petite form looking absurdly high and mighty from his lazy smile, “Sorry, doll.” he murmured, jerking his head back in the hallway. “I got a kid who’s going to be on the air in a few minutes. But I think you’re better off listenin’ to their show before you get the interview, y’know? Feel their vibe.”

My eyes darted to the big digital clock that sat fat in the middle of his desk. 11:52. Wow, I slept longer than I thought. I suddenly felt a little silly, barging in so late with the faintest idea about how to go about this project. With a quick thanks, I hitched my bag above my shoulder, going across the radio floor and to one of the study lobbies. When I made sure I found a nice corner desk where no one would bother me I threw my laptop on and shoved my headphones over my ears, finding the university station. I hoped after coming all this way here in the middle of the night, I could at least try to “feel their vibe.”

Some techy music signaled the start of the show, and to my lack of anticipation the most velvety voice filled my ears, causing my chest to jerk involuntarily.

“What’s up, College Avenue. I’m Vernon and we’re back with The Thursday Night Lockdown.”

His voice was something out of the city and back, with purpose and history. It wasn’t raspy like DJ Suga’s, but it definitely had that low timbre that probably could melt people like butter if he used it right. Adjusting the volume on my laptop, I closed my eyes and let DJ Vernon have his evening.

“I hope you guys submitted those assignments. I’m tellin’ ya freshmen, that 11:59 deadline will close on your ass if you don’t press that red button.” a small smile played on my lips, and I subtly kicked my sneakers under the table, tucking my legs in a comfortable position. I’d imagine Vernon would be just as comfortable, feet on the desk, loose sweats, totally in his element. “I didn’t really have a set plan for tonight, considering it’s midterms and there was a lot of stuff to do this week. I know a lot of us are out drinking their livers out, but for the rest of us I was thinking we could all wind down together. Listen to some playlists, I’ll take some calls and talk about life.”

He talked a little bit about his first playlist, saying it was his favorite cool down mix after a hard day of classes. Everything he said rolled off his tongue like molten chocolate, and I belatedly realized that my fingers curled after every other syllable, his eagerness to spread his enjoyment seeping into my tensed muscles. When his voice faded to silence and soft acoustic music rose, I felt myself momentarily transcend in the surprisingly soothing setlist. I opened up a new tab and started working on some homework, feeling myself get in the zone as I let my mind bounce comfortably between assignments and The Thursday Night Lockdown. This was pretty cool, actually. I never made the time to listen to university shows, but this guy was a natural. Vernon made off-hand comments between songs, reading some comments from their forum page like a conversation with friends or ad-libbing on certain songs. It was a welcoming distraction on particularly rough parts of the work.

“Ah, but one thing that I really need to get off my chest today.” Vernon’s low chuckle rumbled in my ears, “I’m incredibly annoyed at what went down at Sigma Tau today. My boy Coups was brutally rejected for formal on stage this afternoon.”

Shooting up from my nylon seat, its wheels rolled farther from the desk causing my ears to tug painfully from the wire. Pulling myself back to the wooden desk, I furrowed my eyebrows as my focus blurred from my literature paper, concentrating on what Vernon had to say.

“I mean, he did so much for her, Got her flowers, played her favorite song right before he asked, and even got her sisters on it, But once she got off the stage she apparently got so angry, and walked out on him! Seriously?” he scoffed, the once enjoyable sound of his voice feeling like a grating chalkboard forced against my ears. “It was so rude of her, I hope she apologizes to him soon because no one deserves to be treated that way.”

White heat boiled my blood, my jaw pulled so low in shock that it ached. My fingers twitched with a sudden urge to rip at my textbook that I’ve left on the side for the last ten minutes, finally putting it to good use on my sanity.

“Feel free to drop some comments on the forum or shoot me a call, let me know your opinion.”

With pleasure. My fingers typed at lightspeed as I searched up the radio’s number, then with equal pace as I tapped on my cellphone with a bit of unnecessary force with each key. Pulling out one bud, I pressed my cell to my ear. The dial tone was Drake’s Fake Love, which made me even more irritated as I waited for him to pick up.

“And then I was craving—oh, we got our first phone call of the night!” A small, cruel smile nipped on the edge of my lips at Vernon’s innocence as he prepared to pick up. Ripping out the other earbud, I slammed my laptop shut, the lid echoing in the small cubicle. “Good evening, Caller 10.” Vernon sing-songed, “Welcome to The Lockdown. What’s up?”

“Hello, Vernon.” I replied with an equally cheery voice, drumming my nails against the lid of my computer. “I presume you were there when Seungcheol asked that girl to formal?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course I was there.” his voice perked up, probably eager to vent out his frustrations of this afternoon. I was equally armed.

“So I guess you’re blind, then?” I bite, my voice still laced with a sickly positivity.

I felt his breath hitch slightly, probably undetected from the rest of campus listening, but against my ear his surprise was blissfully palpable. “E-excuse me?” he said.

“Because if you had eyes, you would’ve seen how absolutely uncomfortable that poor girl looked on stage. She looked like she was about to cry.” I prayed that the girl from this afternoon wasn’t listening in, and if Seungcheol was supporting his friend like I’d imagine, I hoped he’d feel every ounce of my venom. “How dare you insinuate that girl was wrong. She doesn’t have to apologize, and in fact it’s your friend that should be apologizing.”

“Whoa whoa, hold up Ten.” I blistered at the fact he referred to me as a number, but let it slide considering it was my first time on his line and I was attacking him. “You don’t even know the whole story—”

“Oh, I don’t need to know the whole story to know that your friend is immature and delusional. And so are you, if you think some flowers and a grand confession is any consolation for a date. She had every right to say no.”

“You have no idea,” I felt his voice go dangerously low, like the way a predator would test the waters. Eliciting that sort of reaction from the originally happy Vernon, was satisfying. “How much Coups likes that girl. He would do anything—”

“Bullshit.” I spat, fingers curling around my phone. “If he really liked her, he wouldn’t have put her on the chopping block. He wouldn’t have let her stand on that damn stage, forced to say yes on the spot. She was doing your friend a favor,” I said slowly, my words careful and deliberate. “And made sure she wouldn’t embarrass him like he was embarrassing her.”

I knew Vernon was hanging on a thread, trying to be mighty and defend his friend. Despite my subconscious telling me to let this poor boy off the hook, it’s not my business and it’s his show, I couldn’t let him continue to talk as if he knew everything.

Vernon scoffed, and I could imagine him practically groveling in his studio, grappling for a comeback. “You really think he was trying to hurt her? Coups wouldn’t hurt a fly.” he said.

“Then if it’s not you or me, Seungcheol is the blind one. If you had asked me out on that stage, you better believe I wouldn’t have been as nice to you as she was.”

“Good thing that won’t happen, ever.” Vernon shot back. “I don’t think I’d want to date someone like you.”

Low. Blow. “Excuse me?” I hissed. Screw being quiet in the study room, I got up, smacking my palms against the desk as if Vernon was right in front of me. “You’d be so lucky to date someone like me—”

“Oh!” I heard some rustling, plastic, prickling against my ear. And then the call ended.

Ripping the phone away, I whipped open my laptop and turned on The Lockdown.

“The call dropped.” Vernon’s A-class acting reverberated through my speakers, his candied voice strained with concealed stress. “So, so sorry that happened, Ten.” he cooed. I was fuming, half-tempted to fling my laptop across the room if it wasn’t so expensive. “Anyway, I hope she comes to her senses. The exams must be getting to her, but on more important—”

I closed my laptop with another huff, throwing it in its case and shoving my books in my bag. Unbelievable. It was hard to get me riled, but my face was burning so hard with embarrassment and anger that my cheeks hurt. No way in hell was I letting this guy get to me. He was probably a complete idiot who didn’t deserve the satisfaction of making me angry, and was probably sweating in his studio for being such a coward and ending an argument that he was destined to lose. Throwing my jacket on, I left the study area as fast as I could. I needed food, a hot shower, and Vernon’s stupid voice to be erased from my memory.

I passed by the lobby, avoiding DJ Suga’s smirk as he lazed against his desk.

“Nice show, doll.” I heard him say to my retreating back. “You’re a natural.”

“So, I heard the radio show last night.” Joshua’s voice was like a meek puppy, molasses slow as he weighed my expressions.

“Can we not?” I sighed tiredly, taking a sharp stab into my bubble tea. My straw pierced through the tight plastic with a satisfying ‘pop’ and I gave a hard sip of my thai.

The small bubble tea shop felt even more suffocating than usual, the arylide yellow walls closing in on me through Joshua’s motherly gaze. There was nowhere to go when you’re trapped under his chocolate eyes. People who have never done a wrong thing in their life would plead guilty if Joshua was chastising them.

“Minghao’s in Sigma. He said that Vernon was practically fuming when he got back.” he informed, both of his hands clutching in his mango yogurt tea. “Apparently he doesn’t get angry often.”

“Well, I’m glad I was able to tap into his newfound emotions.” I replied tartly, looking away to focus on the black framed window. The sky was a dull blue-grey, signaling the end of another day. Clouds blanketed the campus, fat and eager for a reprieve. “Josh, can you please stop looking at me like that? I did nothing wrong. I only spoke my mind, or is that against your moral code?”

“It’s not.” Joshua huffed. “But you messed up your final project by picking a fight with him. You don’t have much time.”

“It’s fine. I’ll ask Suga for help. He found my little stunt entertaining.”

“His show is about underground rap. What on earth do you know about underground rap?”

“Okay, what about Woozi?”

“Not after what happened last night. Vernon and Jihoon are friends, no way is he going to help you.”

“Alright, Grapevine.” I looked up at him through my lashes. “I was impulsive. What do you want me to do, apologize for telling the truth?”

“Stop attacking me. I'm just saying for the sake of your grade, you should try making peace with him.” Joshua took an obnoxious sip of his tea, emptying his plastic cup with a loud slurp. “You already declared radio as your topic, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I glowered, shifting in my uncomfortable metal stool. “I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

Seemingly satisfied, Joshua threw away his finished drink and put on his backpack. A little part of me envied how put-together my friend always was, the perfect poster student in a baby blue button down and Dockers oxfords. He gave me a pleased smile and waved to the owner, pulling out his portable umbrella. “I gotta go to glee club, but think about what I said alright?” he patted my head, mussing up my hair. Before I could growl in his face he was already out the door, waving cheerfully.

Once he was out of sight, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Feeling a whole lot more heavier and weighed with the whole world against me, I slumped in my chair and leaned over my laptop. Ordering another round of tea, I vegetated in that little hole-in-the-wall shop all evening. Mulling over my unfinished radio project, the layers and upon layers of other subjects I had to handle, and to my bitter acknowledgement, The Lockdown. Had I made a mistake, lashing on a fellow student when I really did have no clue what was going on? I only said what I saw, and while I wasn't going to take it back a little part of me felt guilty for putting that guy on the spot.

It was already past ten when I finally decided to go home. Popping my joints in all the right places I packed up my things, bumping into other customers who were trying to get something to drink before the shop closed. Bubbling myself to repel the happy students lazing around the sweet smelling shop, I walked outside where the rain was at its peak.

Thunder popped across the sky, and I flinched, clutching the straps of my bag tighter around my shoulders. I didn’t have an umbrella and my windbreaker definitely wasn’t large enough to protect myself and my laptop. Water droplets bounced like millions of tiny scintillating diamonds across the sidewalk, and I had to take half a step under the canopy to stay dry.

“The rain isn’t going to stop anytime soon, but a little water never hurt anybody.”

That voice. The pops in the sky, the lightning streaking across the midnight blue sky suddenly made a race into my chest, electrifying me and rooting me to the spot. An umbrella was suddenly draped over my head, the inner lining decorated with pearl white clouds and a clear azure sky. I looked up to the speaker of that insultingly attractive voice, and it belonged to DJ Vernon of The Thursday Night Lockdown.

There were a number of things that confused me on a daily basis. The people who order iced water at Starbucks, or why the detergent pods couldn’t be used in the laundry rooms because they were so damn convenient. But today it was Vernon, I couldn’t fathom why I couldn’t look at him and get mad like I did last night. It was like he was a completely different person, the way he smiled like he was the sunshine steering away tonight’s rainfall.

He was cute. Really cute. I felt trapped under his aura, which felt tons warmer than the cold rainy night. Eyes like caramel coffee, both energizing and sweet. A smile so disarming I was struck as much as the lightning to a tree, a little part of me felt like he was being betrayed because I didn’t deserve such niceties.

“Uh, are you okay?” his smile quirked in confusion, and I realized he probably felt really uncomfortable that I was staring up at him like he was some beacon in a fog. He tilted his head, the dark bangs shifting slightly in his neon orange beanie. One hand held the handle of the umbrella, the other with a large strawberry yogurt boba. If I moved a centimeter closer I would surely be bumping into his arm. As fate would play dirty tricks in life, it was inevitable that I would end up meeting him the night after I called him out.

Feeling like cotton was being shoved in my throat, I said quietly, “Hey, Vernon.”

And I couldn’t comprehend the sinking feeling in my stomach when his face fell slightly at my words, recognizing my voice just as quickly as I had. “Oh, Ten.” he said with a sort of glazed wonder, his umbrella dipping slightly to let the water dribble off the edge. “You look, a lot less scarier than I imagined you to be.”

“Scarier?” I gaped, wondering exactly how angry I made this guy.

“Yeah. When you’re not talking, of course.” his voice was devoid of any distinguishable emotion, blending with his barely there smile and off-putting gaze. “You look, kind of sweet actually. But unfortunately for you, looks are deceiving.” he deadpanned simply.

And he dropped me like a bowling ball, pulling away from me and walking into the rain.

My eyes followed his quickly retreating trail, looking about as dry as a sheet of paper as he walked into the street. I swallowed back a sigh, half-expecting Vernon to walk away upon discovering I was Caller 10. He had every right to leave me stranded, but it felt even crappier watching him walk off in the rain. I looked up into the suffocating sky, the dark clouds giving me no hope of getting back to the dorms without being drenched. Maybe if I stared hard enough, the rain would stop. Maybe I could do a raindance, at this point dignity was non-existent.

The tic-tic of rain suddenly turned into harsh splashes, and I looked straight to find Vernon retreating his footsteps and making his way back to me. If he noticed his Timberlands drowning by the neck in grimy water, he made no notice. He looked like he was talking to himself, his cheeks glowing pink in the midst of the grey city as he quickly pushed himself back to the front of the store. My heart rate seemed to multiply in double time the closer he got, and I fought the urge to go back inside the warm shop and avoid him altogether.

“Okay, shit. I’m not that much of a dick.” he looked guilty, biting his bubble gum toned lips. There it was again with the eyes, I thought in frustration as he stared in the remnants of my soul. They reminded me a little of Joshua’s, they way he’d stare and be completely willing to share the world. Vernon placed the umbrella over both of our heads. “I’m not gonna let you walk in the rain alone. Are you heading to the bus stop?”

“Yeah.” I said quietly, still surprised he actually came back for me. What exactly was this guy?

“Cool. C’mon then.”

I followed his footsteps, doing my best to match his long legs which were covered by a light pair of cuffed jeans. I don’t even know what I was thinking, walking with the guy I practically trashed on the night before. He didn’t seem to know what he was doing either, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he walked to the stoplight. It seemed more like his morality was forcing him to be generous to me, and it was only more aching on my conscious knowing he was being nice to someone who probably didn’t deserve it.

“Wow,” I murmured against the thick rain, soft enough for only the two of us to hear. “You’re really nice.”

A small grin tugged on Vernon’s lips as we rounded the corner. He refused to look at me, his gaze dead straight on our destination. “Why, did you think I was some evil radio host?”

“No.” I snorted, “Believe it or not I actually thought you were pretty nice back then, too. Anyone who’d stand to defend their friend no matter how bad they messed up, is a pretty good guy in my books.”

He didn’t reply after that, and I didn’t mind. He probably thought I was tricking him or something. We stood in front of the bus stop next to the other late-stragglers, waiting for the next bus to take us back.

I tried not to notice the wary look he gave me, not because I looked threatening, but because I was pretty far from him. As big as his umbrella was, I kept edging away from the center to give him his personal space. My left shoulder was exposed, water spilling on the wicker fabric of my windbreaker. I did my best to ignore the subtle way Vernon would try to cover it.

“Your show is nice.” I continued to fill the lack of conversation, might as well while we waited it out. “It was my first time listening to it. I thought it was great, I like your music taste and you really sound like you’re enjoying it. I was actually supposed to write about your show for a project. Still am, actually.” I added with a little bit of remorse, willing for the bus to come faster. “It’s too late to change my topic, but I’ll figure my way around.” The familiar red and white bus turned into the stop, and I shied away from Vernon’s space, finally looking at him with as much sincerity as I could muster. “Thanks for waiting.”

And as I climbed on the bus, Vernon finally spoke.

“Turns out the girl broke into tears after. Coups really fucked up.”

My head snapped to him in surprise, Vernon still rooted on the spot. While I didn’t want to be right, knowing I was made the situation feel a lot more real. Our fight wasn't in vain. I didn't understand why Vernon felt the need to tell me that, so I bit my lip and replied, “I'm sorry to hear that happened.”

“You were right about Seungcheol. I talked to him today.” he looked up through his lashes with nothing but pure guilt, “While I’m still angry for you talking trash about my friend, I’m sorry I was quick to judge.”

Before I could even let his words sink in, the glass doors barriered us, and the buss whirred back to life. I gripped on the handle of the railing, watching Vernon wait for his bus as mine drove away. Vernon certainly was a character, I couldn’t even tell if he liked me or hated me. But he said sorry, and it wasn’t even his fault, and that only fueled the aching guilt inside me that would haunt me for the following week.

The next Thursday felt more like a Monday, the most painful Monday-Thursday in my entire college career. There was just so much work. I felt like I was drowning in it. Drowning in sleepless nights, drowning in coffee and all the various types of teas in the hope to keep myself conscious for even five seconds. I couldn’t retain any information my professors were giving me. My projects were crap, my life was a mess, and I could hardly breathe.

So that’s how I ended up in my dormitory’s laundry room at 3 A.M., curled up against the washing machine. My laptop was strewn across my slippers, my headphones connected to them and wound over my ears.

I’m sure it was normal for students to have their obligatory breakdown midway through the semester. When everything feels like it’s crashing down on you and you have no idea how to get up. I pressed my back further into the rumbling washing machine, the cool metal burning through my thin pajamas. I turned my music up up up, all the way to max volume until I couldn’t hear myself tear.

Crying’s a good thing, I tell myself.

It’d be even worse to let myself bottle up and explode in the worst possible way. I wasn’t even entirely sure as to what I was crying about, all I knew was that I was sad and I needed to let it out. Was it the piles of work? The fact that I missed home? My subpar projects? My shoulders shook like a chilled autumn leaf, brittle and vulnerable, my throat constricting and my face puffy and wet with stress.

I wasn’t exactly sure how long I was crying for, but I remember hearing the music breaking to a MultiVitamin commercial, forcing me to change the station on my computer.

“We’re at the last hour of The Lockdown.” Vernon’s voice purred in my ears, willing me to lift my shoulders up a centimeter.  

I exhaled tiredly, wiping away the tears that still wouldn’t cease their race down my face. My fixation to his radio show since that time in the rain definitely wasn't healthy, it was one of the main things distracting me from my studies. Although I would like to convince myself it was because of my Media Studies project, and not a certain beanie-wearing DJ.

“I'm not exactly sure how many of you are up with me, but if you are—that's lit!” I suppressed the small smile at his infectious enthusiasm.  “Because now you get to listen to a little something I whipped up with Sigma last month. It still needs a little bit of work, but you’ll like it either way.”

Vernon wrote music?

“This is for everyone who's going through a hard time right now. That you'll always have someone to lean on.

If I am in your heart If I am really in your heart Wherever you are I will follow you Even if we’re so busy That we can’t see each other often If we get drunk on each other and fall asleep In the dreams, don’t hesitate Lean on me.”

When he started rapping, I realized there was way more to radio than I thought. Way more on the inside to the puzzle that was Vernon. At the time, the one thing that I was absolutely sure of was that I seriously underestimated him. There was so much passion in his words, the messages he wanted to share, his declaration was nothing more than genuine. It only caused my emotional self to get even worse, tears bubbling down my face like water boiling over.

As soon as he finished his song I pulled out my phone, and tugged off the plug of the speaker. Vernon’s bashful self started explaining the origins of his song, the speakers echoing throughout the cramped laundry room. Pressing my cell to my ear, I waited to the all-too familiar dial tone of “Hotline Bling.”

“Oh. We have a caller! I didn’t think anyone would be awake.” he chuckled awkwardly, and I wondered what he thought about his rapping if he only decided to sing when virtually no one would be listening. “Welcome to The Lockdown… Ten?”

Surprise, surprise. “Hey, Vernon.” I sniffed, trying my hardest not to whimper according to  my weary throat.

“Are you, are you crying?” there was disbelief laced in his voice, honest surprise. He spoke as if this wasn't public radio, like a one-on-one phone call between two friends. “Was it that bad?”

“What? No?” I hiccupped, rubbing my raw nose between the paw of my sweater. “You’re amazing. I loved it so much. You’re so talented.” the words rushed out in impatient whispers, as if the laundry room had ears and would eat up my words if I didn’t speak fast enough. “I had no idea you could write songs.”

“Thank you.” he murmured, his words lingering in the air with no intention of ending the conversation.

“And I’m sorry. Sorry for talking shit on-air, sorry for thinking so badly for you, sorry for everything and anything. And if it’s okay and if you think I’m not so much of a scary person as you imagined,” his warm chuckles reverberated through the airwaves, and I stuffed my face in my sweater in embarrassment, “I know you said you’d never want to go out with me, but do you think you could take those words back for one afternoon? So I can apologize in person.”

I could practically hear his smile from the other line. “It’s a date, Ten.”