#the cake will probably be baked sometime in the approaching fall break

[toiletphotoshoot]

HOLY SHIT!!!!! 10 YEARS?!?!?!!?!?!?!?! Damn.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

dive into you

[bennett x reader]

author’s note: lil fic for bestest boy benny inspired by the song by nct dream and the summer season :’)

word count: 3,600

There’s a bakery opposite of Angel’s Share, just across the cobblestone road, and every morning the smell of freshly baked bread wafts from its open double doors, ready to welcome patrons and the crisp air of the early hours. Bennett has easily fallen into the routine of making this his first stop of the day. When he wakes, eyes slow to open and greeted by little squares of light on the ceiling of his bedroom from the sunlight shining through the window, he swears he can already smell that bread and the pastries and the care put into each one. He doesn’t often find it in him to be lazy, to be sluggish this early, for a new day was a new promise of adventure, and whether he’s swept along by the wind to the wilds or to the bakery, it’s an adventure all the same.

He always picks out food for his dads. He considers carefully what they might like to have (some prefer to have the same each time, others don’t mind the variety and like to be surprised), and carefully, slowly he fills the tray. Usually it isn’t busy during the time he’s there, but he doesn’t want to take risks as he holds it securely with both hands whenever he’s perusing the selection. Even if there were no people to bump into, with his luck, he might bump into one of the displays in the middle of the shop instead, consequence of paying more attention to the shelves against the wall where there are loaves baked into fun shapes like fish or crabs, rather than to what’s in front of him. He’d hate to drop everything on his tray and waste it.

Sometimes the bakery keeps the doors closed, and while uncommon, it’s nothing unusual. On these occasions, the entry of each customer is announced by the small bell jingling just overhead. It’s the only sound in the shop, ringing several times in the past ten minutes but it’s mere background noise, easily ignored, as Bennett absorbs himself in choosing what to buy today.

“Good morning!”

Bennett’s hand freezes just above a loaf of bread that looks like a bear and he glances behind him to the counter because the sound of your bubbly voice, conversely, is much more difficult to ignore. Though to be fair, to him, you’re no mere background noise.

You’re carrying a basket of more loaves just taken from the oven, half of them regularly shaped into circles and the other half like turtles, and grin at the customers who have just walked in. He watches you make your way over to a shelf several feet away from him to arrange the bread, and he stares long enough that you’ve taken notice. Your smile is bright and reaches your eyes, and he’s embarrassed to have been caught. His cheeks grow warm and you can probably see the dusting of red across his face, a speculation which doesn’t help alleviate this embarrassment one bit.

“Good morning, Bennett,” you greet him, more quietly since he’s closer.

He likes when you say his name, and it never fails to make his heart skip a beat and he stutters out an O-Oh, um… as if surprised that you’re talking to him, much less that you know who he is. It shouldn’t take him off guard that you know, considering how often he comes to the bakery, so he supposes it has more to do with the fact that he can’t believe his name should be spoken by a voice as gentle as yours, honeyed tones like the softly plucked notes of the Holy Lyre der Himmel.

Finally he musters an equally quiet Good morning in response, smiling back but he’s certain it looks more like a cringe, owed to his nerves. If it does, you don’t point it out, and simply return to your task. Only when another patron comes up to Bennett’s other side, muttering a pardon as they grab a loaf from the shelf he’s standing in front of, does he break his gaze from you. His hand that had been hovering above the bread that whole time he drops back down to his side, and he scoots to make room with another stutter and a sorry.

You’re back behind the counter when Bennett is ready to pay. The pile of bread, cake slices, sandwiches, and other miscellaneous pastries had in the past led you to ask him if these were snacks for the road, for you’d guessed him to be an adventurer doing commissions for the guild by the sword at his side. He’d chuckled and explained his actual purpose for buying as much as he did, and your grin had widened, and if he wasn’t imagining things, you’d been extra careful when packing every treat.

I’m sure they’ll really appreciate your gesture, you’d said. That’s sweet of you. And it’s not frequently that events in the course of his life run smoothly, but that day they had, and with no falter in his words he remarks it’s thanks to you, for you’re the reason there’s anything to bring back to his dads in the first place. You’d laughed and his chest tightened and he thinks that’s the point where he started to fall (to where, he hesitated to state exactly). But in any case, it was true—without you, there was no bakery filled to the brim with delicious food, and if he had anything to say about that, Mondstadt would be worse off for it.

This morning, Bennett is digging around his wallet for the appropriate amount of Mora while you pack what he’d picked out. Having gone through this process many times prior, he knows approximately how much it should cost.

“Ah—”

A few coins slip from his hand and clatter to the wooden floor, and he bends to pick them up. But on the way down, his head knocks into the tray that he neglected to push all the way onto the countertop, so part of it still stuck out. You blink in surprise at the jostling of the tray and his subsequent Ouch!, muffled because he’s obscured by the counter.

“Are you okay?” You sound genuinely worried, but to Bennett the accident had been no big deal. At least none of the food had fallen.

“Yeah,” he assures you. He’s still trying to gather up the stray Mora, fingers failing to get a proper grip on them and he huffs in slight exasperation. His face once more is burning from the embarrassment of being so clumsy. He’s clumsy around everyone, and it’s something he has long since come to accept, but it matters a lot more when it’s you.

Finally he stands back up, the money clutched in his fist victoriously. “Yeah!” he repeats now that you can hear him clearly. “It’s no big deal.”

For a second you don’t quite believe him, but it’s hard to argue with that smile on his face. There’s no pain he’s trying to hide (embarrassment, on the other hand, is a different issue entirely).

Upon handing him his package you tell him you’ll see him tomorrow and he feels sort of special because you don’t say it to anyone else. To others, you say Thank you, come again! but you know his routine and you know to expect him at the same time each morning. Judging by the look in your eyes and the sound of your voice when you see and greet him, you anticipate his visit every time, and his heart wants to soar out from the confines of his chest upon this realization and he is exhilarated. The wind and the new day have fulfilled their promise of an adventure, and the clock hasn’t even struck noon.

One day you’re a little distracted, focused on a paper in your hand as Bennett approaches the counter with his tray of baked goods. For the most part, your face gives nothing away, but then your brows furrow slightly, a subtle action he doesn’t miss, and he proceeds to ask if anything is wrong. He asks it kindly, keeps his tone neutral, wordlessly conveying that you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. He would hate to pry.

You purse your lips, pausing like you’re caught between saying yes and no. He waits patiently for whichever one it might be.

“I ran out of sugar and had been meaning to make more,” you start, opting to share with him what’s been troubling you.“I bought out Flora’s stock of sweet flowers but it wasn’t enough, so I may have to set aside time to pick more myself later.”

The mention of heading outside of the city makes Bennett perk up, for he never turns down a chance to go exploring. He’s about to offer to do it for you, but it’s the thought of possibly going with you instead that makes him hold back and rephrase his question.

“This afternoon?” he inquires, head tilting. You nod, and up until now he’d felt confident in the offer he was going to present, but then his nerves get the better of him and it doesn’t come out quite the way he was hoping. “I-I could go with you! You know, if you want! To protect you… Just in case…” He trails off and he wants to go hide in a hole. There are few other ways this could have gone worse.

You don’t answer right away, and he regrets having said anything at all, but your beautiful smile soon follows the silence and it sets his mind at ease, and you agree with a concise and cheery Sure! Well, at least the worst way this could have gone had not come to pass. It was the small victories for Bennett—just as important as the big ones. The next challenge would be to avoid making a fool of himself out there, in what should be his natural element; he does want to impress you. But that’s a big ask for someone like him…

Both of you agree to meet at the front gate in the late afternoon. By then, the traffic in the bakery is slow enough that you’re able to step away earlier than the normal closing time. You’ve changed into clothes more appropriate for walking around: in lieu of a dress, your typical work attire, you sport a tunic and trousers you don’t mind dirtying. The trousers are tailored to fit properly but the tunic is a tad big, the sleeves a bit too long, but Bennett thinks you look cute in it. A basket hangs on your forearm and you wave as you walk up to him.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” you say.

Bennett shakes his head. “Not long at all.” Technically the agreed upon meeting time was only five minutes ago, so you aren’t very late. Though he does refrain from sharing that he’d arrived early, in fear that he could end up late somehow and you would be the one who had to wait. Really, it’s been more like fifteen minutes for him, but he just keeps quiet about that.

One of the nice things about summer is that the sun sets later. There’s still a sufficient amount of light to illuminate the fields as you walk around in search of sweet flowers. At first, the extent of your conversation is discussing where you might be able to find a high concentration of them, then silence filled with the sifting of grass beneath your shoes and the occasional exclamation of having spotted a flower to be picked and tucked away in your basket.

Honestly, walking with you around the wilds of Mondstadt hadn’t been anywhere on Bennett’s list to do today, or any day really, not until he could muster the courage to invite you out like this, and who knew when that might be. Your need for sweet flowers had dropped the opportunity right into his lap, and thankfully he hadn’t squandered it. But now he’s at a loss as to what to talk about; he didn’t think he’d ever get this far.

Maybe you sense his struggle to come up with a topic of conversation because you’re the one to speak up, asking about his adventures and the commissions he takes. Done anything exciting recently?

Bennett’s eyes light up, a reaction which you can't help but smile at, and he regales you of the goings-on of his latest missions. He omits the instances where his clumsiness had made things more difficult (of which there were many), but each story is still truthful. Most of his commissions the past month hadn’t been anything too bold—after a mission that involved nearly getting himself trapped in a ruin due to solving a puzzle wrong then getting food poisoning on top of that from the snack he’d prepped that day, he’s been choosing jobs that he knows he’s more capable of.

To him, they aren’t too exciting, and in the larger scope of things, perhaps they aren’t, but you don’t seem to think that as you hang on each word. You’re absorbed in his story about trying to dismantle towers in a hilichurl camp, and gasp at the mention of their reinforcements coming to attack in the midst of it. Wow, you remark after he finishes his recounting of the event. You’re amazing, Bennett!

His heart does a flip again at the sound of his name and he shrugs offhandedly. He’s not inclined to think so, but your awed comment is sincere and has him reconsidering: yeah, that was pretty cool of him, wasn’t it? For all his clumsiness, he doesn’t often see the feats for what they are, accompanied by blunders or not, but you’re the fresh perspective he’d been missing, and he wishes you’d stepped into his life sooner.

The entirety of your outing together has thus far been free of any monsters, but as soon as Bennett makes this observation it’s like the universe has heard: hydro slimes suddenly pop out from the ground, halting you in your tracks. You squeak in surprise and Bennett is quick to shift into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and one arm out in front of you protectively.

“Just stay there!” he instructs before drawing his sword and rushing forward.

Luckily there aren’t many slimes to fight off, and they aren’t very big. His sword cuts through them easily, cleanly. They burst and spray water upon being sliced apart, so at the end, when they’re all dead, the only evidence they had been there to begin with is the slight dampness to his clothes and the squish of dirt turned to mud. With a sigh of triumph, Bennett resumes a relaxed stance, then sheathes his weapon and turns to you.

As instructed, you’ve stayed in place, but it seems to have been more out of being frozen in fear than anything else. You’re clutching your basket close, and once the slimes are gone, you follow Bennett’s lead and relax, shoulders releasing the tension they had been filled with for the duration of that fight. You let out a deep exhale of relief, hand placed over your heart which has yet to slow back down to its normal pace.

“Thank you.”

Bennett flashes a toothy grin and waves his hand as if to say It’s not a problem. “That’s what I’m here for isn’t it?”

You smile back. “I’m glad we went together.”

Together. He likes the sound of that. He thinks to himself that he’d go with you to other places too; you need only to give the word. To the edge of this world, and through a portal to the next? He’d meet you by the front gate at dawn.

He’s surprised that the encounter with those slimes had gone as smoothly as it had. It isn’t uncommon for him to get hit a few times, bruises quick to form on his arms or his legs. And it’s quite the run of luck, of which he’s ordinarily in short supply, that he should get through a fight with nary a scratch on him while with you. His efforts to impress are actually succeeding.

However, this is another case of speaking too soon, because he starts to walk back to you, but then his foot gets caught on a rock concealed by the tall grass, and he tumbles to the ground.

“Oof!”

His chest collides with the earth as he lands with a thud and the breath is stolen from his lungs. You gasp and close the gap between you, and in viewing you in his peripherals, he notes that you are much more graceful at it.

“Are you all right?”

Bracing his hands on the dirt, small bits of rock digging into his palms, Bennett pushes himself up to sit on his knees. “Yeah, I’m okay!” Here he thought he had handled himself perfectly well, but then just like that, his clumsiness returned, and once more before you he is awkward, blundering Bennett.

Unlike the incident at the bakery when he’d bumped his head into the tray, this fall had actually hurt, and he can’t hide it successfully, a slight wince of pain crossing his face in spite of his smile. Even if you hadn’t caught on to that, the injuries elsewhere on his body give it away completely.

“Your arms are all scraped up…” After Bennett stands back up, you gingerly take hold of his forearm and angle it to examine the scrapes there, thin red lines from tiny stones tearing the skin.

Your grip is light, like you’re scared to injure him further, and Bennett is thankful for the darkness that is setting in as the sun disappears and the moon begins its trek across the sky, for it conceals the way his cheeks redden to be this close to you, to be touched by you. The concern in your gaze as you look at his arm makes his chest squeeze but not in the good way, and he bends his knees slightly to duck into your line of view.

“Don’t worry! I’m fine.” And it’s true. He’s sustained worse, though he steers clear of sharing this part. He doesn’t like to see you worried.

He straightens up when you finally meet his eyes and dons his smile again, easy and reassuring. It seems to convince you, as you nod and let go. He drops his arm back down to his side but he’s already missing the feather-light sensation of your fingertips. Successfully reassured, your smile also returns, replacing the thin line of worry that your lips had previously been set in.

It’s dark now but the air is still warm, a consequence of the season. In the daytime the heat is more extreme, made even more so by the fire curling from the edge of his sword. At the conclusion of whatever commission he has taken, he’s left sweating, satisfied but exhausted. Missions in the summer are more difficult to get through, the sun beating down with little mercy and its heat lingering into the night, but he thinks that if he were to have you there with him, he’d hardly notice.

Your delicate gaze is the cool ocean breeze and your soft smile the deluge of waves washing over him, a force he receives gladly because he is falling into you, deeper into the expanse of your heart. He’s diving into the sea, the unbearable heat of summer long forgotten as he makes his way to the bottom. What he hopes to find he isn’t sure, but he’d be content to remain there forever, consumed by you and all the love you have to offer.

“Okay?” he asks, voice soft. You had nodded but he also wants verbal confirmation that you won’t burden yourself with worry anymore.

You catch on to his own need for reassurance, and he wants to sink into the refreshing fondness of your eyes as you watch him. “Okay.”

The moon up above illuminates your face, and he wants to run his fingers along all the parts it touches: the line of your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips. He yearns to be closer to you than that moonlight adorning your skin, and maybe it’s strange that he should be envious of it, of that light which has the privilege to hold you so near, but the feelings he has for you are what’s written about in books, and in those stories, people do tend to do strange things.

In the morning, he stops by the bakery as usual but this time is surprised when you set a cake down alongside the other baked goods he buys. You answer his question before he can voice it.

“For yesterday,” you state simply. “For my hero.”

Your—?

“I think ‘hero’ is too strong a word for it,” Bennett replies, chuckling quietly and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. After all, they had just been slimes.

You hum noncommittally, corner of your mouth lifted in a grin. “Maybe, but yesterday you were mine. So please take this as thanks.”

He’d like to be yours every day, and the thought of how nice that would be makes his whole world just a little brighter, like the crystal butterflies fluttering around him in the wild on the warm summer nights; and he hopes that the next adventure the wind guides him on leads straight back to you.

[httpsaiki]

Saiki with an s/o who just cups his cheeks and tells him they live him for the first time ever.

Hi! This is adorable, thank you so much for this request!! I did a story, not headcanons and it kind of got off track, but I hope you like it!

—

I went into way too much detail about cupcakes in this, I got carried away, oops. I'm back, though! After months I finally refound my love for this show and along with it my inspiration for writing! I hope this isn't too bad, I wrote it all in one go. I have been writing a personal project, but I doubt I've improved that much in the last couple months. Thank you if you read this! I hope to have more to post soon!

Reader is gender neutral!

WC: 1533

Italics represents Saiki speaking telepatically!

Saiki with a S/O who cups his cheeks and tells him they love him for the first time.

—————————————————–

Your week had been anything but easy. Balancing a school and social life wasn’t supposed to be easy, sure, but this was getting ridiculous. It seemed every assignment was due at some point this past week and every class had some sort of test or exam. On top of everything, your friend group decided it was the perfect time to meet up to study nearly every single day. It was completely and entirely exhausting. You hardly got a free moment to yourself.

To make matters worse, you hadn’t seen Kusuo the entire time. He was part of your friend group, yeah, but by some miracle, he managed to dodge every study session. It was almost like he had superpowers. On most weeks like this, Kusuo was the only thing that could get you through it, being around him was oddly healing - even if he’s a jerk about it sometimes, you miss him dearly. He had some sort of ability to keep you calm and content, just being around him was enough to relieve some of the day's stress. Kusuo was there for you no matter what, whether he was willing to admit that or not. You knew it to be true and he knows you know. That’s enough.

You could feel him rolling his eyes if you were to tell him anything you just thought, that is. That never stopped you, though, you needed to make sure he knows you care for him. No, care is not a strong enough word. You’re sure you love him, there’s no doubt in your mind. How can you go about telling him? He of all people definitely deserves to know he’s loved.

Plotting how you’d tell Kusuo that you love him turned out to be a fantastic stress reliever. Laughing all you want about the cheesy, made-up scenarios you come up with did wonders to calm you down. Anything from a mock proposal on the beach, to screaming it off a cliff. Most of them weren’t realistic, nor to either of your tastes. But they were fun, and that’s all that mattered. You finally decided on telling him the one way you knew he’d like best. Sweets. Content with your idea, you prepared for bed. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

You woke bright and early. So early, in fact, that the sun had hardly even began to rise. There was work to be done. Quietly, you made your way down to the kitchen, careful enough not to wake anyone up. You decided on a quick and easy breakfast, you could never go wrong with toast. While the bread was toasting, you got out cupcake trays and your cake recipe, reading it over and gathering any ingredients you need. You left any ingredients that needed to be refrigerated in the fridge but prepared measuring cups and bowls for them. Anything that didn’t need to be kept cold was put into the appropriate bowl - wet or dry. As you were measuring out the last of your dry ingredients, you heard a faint pop from the toaster and decided it was time to take a break and eat. Your toast was surprisingly good, probably because you felt you worked for it.

Now was for the easier parts, combining the rest of your recipe and then pouring it into the cupcake trays. You went about your day, waiting for them to finish baking and then cool down. Once they were cool, it was around lunchtime. The perfect time to finish them up with icing. Carefully, you took your time to write out “I love u Kusuo!” Putting each character on its own cupcake - unfortunately having to shorten the “you” so that it would fit on the 12 of them. To add a final touch, you added a couple small heart candies onto some of them. They looked great and you were proud of your work.

As soon as the cupcakes were packaged up and ready to go, you headed immediately out the door. Kusuo didn’t usually like when you showed up suddenly or unannounced, but you carried treats and an important message this time. You were sure he wouldn’t mind too much.

The walk to his house was uneventful as always. You were lucky enough not to run into anyone you knew on the way there. You didn’t want to have to explain yourself and a small part of you expected that running into somebody would only strike disaster - similar to the past week. There was a small skip in your step on the way there, happy to finally see Kusuo after that long, painful week. You didn’t let any of your nerves get to you. Kusuo would take your message well. He had to.

Or, that’s what you were telling yourself as you nervously stood at his doorway. Ringing his doorbell had never been so frightening. You braved it, though, and your finger found its way up to his doorbell. The muffled ring could be heard even from the outside and approaching footsteps that sounded awfully familiar came shortly after.

When the door opened you were greeted with the face you craved to see all week. He looked as unbothered as ever, but the second he stepped aside and his arm gestured to let you in you knew he was happy to see you. With a smile on your face, you went to step inside and-

Apparently, your awful week had yet to cease. Right as you walked in the door, towards Kusuo, your foot caught the bottom of the doorframe. You tripped on it, the box of cupcakes falling along with you. "Oh!” It came out choked and as if you hadn’t meant to say it at all, “No!”

You quickly peeked inside of the box. The icing writing you had worked so hard on was smudged, no longer legible. They were still edible, but the message had been erased. Kusuo was staring down at the cupcakes, an almost puzzled expression on his face. He kept the same expression as his eyes met yours.

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly, “they were for you, I didn’t mean to- to make a mess of them.”

Kusuo only nodded, but it was enough to tell you there was no problem and you hadn’t even needed to apologize. He wasn’t mad.

“Listen, Kusuo I,” you cut yourself off, now that the cupcakes weren’t an option how did you want to tell him?

“Screw it.” You muttered under your breath as you stood up from the ground, dusting yourself off. Now back on your feet, you quickly reached up, placing both your hands on Kusuo’s cheeks. Your thumbs found their way right on his cheekbones, running softly along them. The rest of your fingers could reach to his hair and you had to resist completely tangling them in it. His expression was entirely neutral once more, at the very least he wasn’t offended by your actions.

“I really love you, Kusuo.”

He smiled. He actually smiled. It was genuine, it was beautiful, everything you could’ve asked for and more. His hands were in your cheeks too at this point and he had an uncharacteristically intense look in his eyes.

“I really love you, too.”

Such a simple statement and yet you could feel your cheeks burning up from it. Even worse, his hands were on his face so he could feel it too. He was so close, still smiling at you. You’d never imagined his face was capable of making such a dopey, lovesick smile and yet here he is. And then he hugged you. Tight. He’d never held you like that before, it was so loving and warm. It hardly lasted a couple seconds, so short that you were almost sure you imagined it. As soon as you registered it, it was over, and Kusuo’s normal, unbothered expression remained on his face.

“We shouldn’t let your hard work go to waste, should we? Want to come enjoy these with me?” Kusuo moved down to pick up the box, staring down at them in admiration even if they were a mess by now. You didn’t bother to reply to him, still slightly in shock. You chose to simply follow after him into the other room as he placed the box on a table. Kusuo wasted no time in grabbing one of the cupcakes, his signature sweets-eating-face taking over as soon as he took a bite. It was endearing, to say the least. As if he sensed your hesitation, he nudged the box towards you, encouraging you to take one as well. Despite their state, they still tasted amazing, all your hard work really paid off.

The rest of the day was spent comfortably. You refused to leave Kusuo’s side after everything that happened. You took to ranting about your week and how much you missed him while sat comfortably next to him, right where you wanted to be. Maybe the past week was worth it. You finally got to tell Kusuo you love him and got plenty of time together to make up for it. It had been bad, but like all the times before, Kusuo had a way of making you feel better.

[kaider-is-my-otp]

Best Surprise

Torin surprises Kai for his birthday.

Emperor Kaito never celebrated his birthday.

At least he hadn’t for the past two years since he became an emperor. Even before that, his birthday celebrations were surprisingly modest for a crown prince of world’s largest country. The sad truth was he grew up as a sheltered prince and never had too many friends he could spend that special day with. Usually his mother and father would take a day off and abandon their royal duties to be with him for that full day. They would sneak out of the palace to walk the city streets and eat food from the vendors, completely different from all the delicacies waiting in the palace. With both of them now gone, Kai remembered those birthdays with aching fondness.

Despite not making a big deal out of it, nobody ever forgot it was their emperor’s birthday. Palace cooks would make all of his favorite dishes, gifts from important politicians were arriving from all parts of the world, reporters were writing articles about him, usually comparing how much he’s changed during the years.

Still, Kai never cared about any of that. He would usually spend entire day busy with paperwork, meetings and revising the laws. If he was lucky enough to have his birthday fall on Sunday- his only free day of the week- he would spend it sleeping and lounging in his private quarters.

This year was different, though. There was one person in the palace who had no intention allowing emperor to waste his day doing work. Even though he usually said that work comes first, Torin refused to have him sitting at his desk all day and brood about not having seen Cinder in months.

With that in mind he knocked on Kai’s cherry wood door and walked into the office. As he expected, Kai was hunched over his desk, staring at his portscreen. He didn’t even lift his head to see who entered his office.

Torin cleared his throat. “Your Majesty.”

Kai lifted his head, surprised to see his advisor standing on the doorway. “Torin, when did you come in? I don’t think I heard you.”

Torin exhaled and closed the door. “That’s because you’ve been focusing on nothing but work for entire day.”

“I was in the middle of reviewing new transportation laws.”

“It’s your birthday, Your Majesty.”

Kai furrowed his brows. “I know that.”

Torin stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Have you considered taking a break? Having lunch, maybe?”

Kai waved his hand as if lunch was something meaningless. His portscreen pinged with a new message, occupying his attention immediately. Even though Kai showed nothing but strong dedication to work since he became emperor, Torin was starting to get worried about his social life. He knew young emperor had friends, but they were scattered all over the world. And with his girlfriend ruling the moon, he didn’t doubt Kai would get lonely sometimes. Nobody should feel lonely on their birthday.

“Kaito.” Torin used his first name so rarely it instantly got Kai’s attention. “Could you come to the security rooms for a minute? Guards said there was a… possible break-in.”

Kai’s jaw slacked. “A break-in? You’re only telling me now, Torin?”

Torin tried not to cringe at his horrible lie. The only thing that mattered was getting Kai out of his office. “Yes, well. It’s probably nothing serious.”

While they walked through palace hallways, Torin noticed the concern over possible security breach worrying the emperor. He felt sorry for adding unnecessary worries to Kai’s ever growing pile, but he hoped to make it up with his surprise. Kai was so in his head he hadn’t notice Torin had pressed a different elevator button.

“Torin, that’s not where security is.” Kai’s eyes narrowed as he saw where Torin was sending him. “I told you already I don’t need rest or a day off. Birthday or not, there’s so many things to do and I—“

The elevator doors opened in that second and Kai lost the power of speech as he saw who was waiting on the other side.

“Cinder,” he stammered from shock of seeing her for the first time in months.

She smiled and the whole room brightened. She was dressed in a beautiful pale violet dress that no doubt Iko forced her to wear. It had long flowing sleeves and, even though the dress itself was fluttering around her ankles, Cinder shifted from foot to foot as if she were uncomfortable. Regardless, Kai had never seen a prettier sight.

He seemed to have frozen right there, unable to move as he stared at her. Torin cleared his throat and gently pushed Kai out of the elevator. Kai turned just in time to see Torin’s smile that said You’re welcome. Then the elevator doors closed and they were left alone. Kai made a mental note to send Torin on a luxurious vacation.

Cinder approached him and wrapped her arms around his middle. The warmth from her body yanked Kai from whatever stupor he was in. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, twirling them in circle. Cinder let out a surprised yelp, followed by a gentle laugh in his ear.

He put her down and took her face in his hands. Cinder’s hair has already fallen from her fancy up-do- no doubt also courtesy of Iko- but she didn’t seem to care as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Kai.

“Happy birthday,” she mumbled on his lips. Kai hummed and kissed her deeper, pulling her to his chest. Their kiss was full of longing, lonely hours and distant miles. When they finally separated, he took a step back to take another look at her.

“You’re here,” he said, still barely believing it. “You’re actually here. What—How?”

Cinder shrugged and reached to brush strands of hair that fell on Kai’s forehead. “Torin said you were a moping mess and I didn’t want you to spend your birthday sad and alone.”

Kai leaned forward to press a kiss on her lips. “How long are you staying?”

“I managed to take only two days off,” she said, giving him a sad smile.

Kai shook his head and grabbed her hand, leading her to his room at the end of the hallway. “I’m so happy to see you. Even if just for a minute, the fact that you’re here means more to me than I can explain.”

Cinder’s heart skipped a beat at his words. He was always better at sweet talk than she was. She smirked at the birthday boy as she closed the doors of his room behind her. “You should be even happier when you see I brought your favorite cake.”

Kai walked closer to the table in the middle of his spacious room and saw a small heart-shaped cake and a bottle of champagne. His eyes widened as he recognized the flavor. “Red velvet cake?”

Cinder nodded and bit her lip. “I made it myself.” She spent a whole day yesterday watching baking tutorials, dusted in powdered sugar. The cake looked decent only on her fourth try.

Kai stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. “You made this cake yourself? For me?”

“Of course I made it for you,” Cinder said, huffing in irritation. “It’s your birthday and as your girlfriend, it is my duty to make sure you spend this day doing things you love. I may not have been able to see you previous years, but I’m not letting you get away with it this time.”

Kai felt his chest warm with happiness and love. Even thought he was neck-deep in work, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that someone was actually making sure he had this day for himself. It’s been years since his country- and Cinder- weren’t the number one thought in his head. He leaned toward her to press a soft kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”

He grabbed the knife and sliced a big piece of cake for Cinder and one for himself. He laughed when he saw the bottle of champagne. “Strawberry flavored?”

“Without alcohol.”

They both smiled at the memory of last and first time Kai had alcohol. To no one’s surprise, Kai couldn’t really hold his drink. Cinder had seen him mildly drunk on only one occasion when Rampion crew was having a get-together a year before. He barely recognized her at the end of the night and he only had two drinks. Safe to say, Kai never had a drop of alcohol after that night.

They spent next few hours eating, laughing and kissing. They lounged on Kai’s huge bed, facing each other, telling stories they never got the chance to share during their late night video calls.

“You didn’t.” Kai was holding his stomach while laughing as Cinder told him about the time she came to the meeting dressed in cargo pants and tank top.

“Of course I did. In my defense, I was just leaving the garage and forgot to change into my dress. Iko was less than pleased with me.”

“I can imagine,” Kai said as he wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye. He stared deep into her eyes, her swollen lips. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he said quietly.

Cinder stiffened, as if unsure whether it was a good or a bad thing. “Is that… good?”

Kai lifted his hand to caress her cheek. “Definitely good. I never doubted you would stay the same girl I fell in love with, but it’s nice to have reassurance.”

Cinder’s lips lifted in a smile when word love left his lips. Even though he said it too many times to count- her brain had tried- it still felt surreal to have this wonderful boy say that to her. She buried her face in his chest and Kai lifted her so she was on top of him.

After few quiet minutes Kai spoke again. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for seeing me as something more than just an emperor.”

Cinder lifted her head to look at his face. His eyes had a misty glow and from the tone of his voice she knew he was confiding in her thoughts that had troubled him for years. Maybe even his whole life.

“Everyone in this palace sees me as nothing more than a person who was thrown into position of power before he was ready. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all nice and helpful, but sometimes… It makes me feel less human in a way. Even outside of the palace, people know who I am, but they don’t really know me.” He scratched behind his ear. “Am I making any sense?”

“You do,” Cinder said quietly. “I get what you mean. I feel that way sometimes, too.”

Kai’s grip on her waist tightened.

“That’s why we have each other,” Cinder continued. “And our friends. They don’t’ see us as just royalty. At least I hope.”

Kai laughed and rolled them both over so they were facing each other. He kissed her nose, then her lips. “Let’s agree to surprise visit each other more often. Just to feel more human.”

Cinder smiled, kissing him one more time. “Agreed.”

[docholligay]

Mako, a birthday cake

The temptation to make this sad was OVERFUCKINGWHELMING, but given that this is FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY, I did not. 1400 words, holds to my Au things of Pluto as Luna-type informer and transformation rings. 

The days were in that awkward space between warm and cold, summer and fall. Mako had never cared much for this time of year. Decide what you’re going to do and just do it, instead of trying to be both things at once. How something could flip so fast had never made sense to her, but that’s the way of early September, whether she agreed with it or not. 

Mako could admit to herself that she didn’t like change in general, least of all when she didn’t know what to expect, and the last few years had been full of nothing but, and maybe that was why she foud this mushy time of year so much more frustrating. She was a daughter, and then she wasn’t. She was a student a Mizumoto, and then she wasn’t. She was a normal girl, and then she was a Senshi. 

You could have told her she was the secret princess of Mulgravia tomorrow, and she would have believed it, however unhappy she was. 

They were tied together by the past, so she’d been told, even though Mako had no memory of ever having been Jupiter. If she were the sort of person who thought about these things, she would have wondered who she was, if she was Jupiter or Mako, who Jupiter had been. But Mako was a person who believed in the summer and the fall, and not both, as so she simply pictured herself, but in the sort of dress that might have been suitable in an ancient court. 

Mako didn’t like this time of year, but she did like to bake. Baking, you see, had a certain amount of inalienable law. Yeast rose. Sugar browned. Eggs lifted. And so she stood in her tiny corner of a kitchen, book flipped open to the recipe she knew by heart but found comfort in the reading of, mixing together a cake. 

Her life was between seasons now, but the cake would do what it had always done. 

Usagi expected that they were all friends now, had expected it from the first time Mako picked up the transformation ring, felt it buzz in her hand, since the ring had glowed bright and twisted itself from a plain band into a gold rose with a sparkling green leaf. Since Pluto had told her that made her Jupiter. 

She didn’t feel like Jupiter, and she didn’t feel like a friend. 

The other three girls had been working together for awhile, and they bounced off each other with equal parts love, and annoyance, and loving annoyance. Mako raised above their heads in height, feeling equally separated from them in her heart. She wanted to believe it, that there was this inborn thing that would give her friends, that would potentially give her a family, something that couldn’t be so easily taken from her. But it seemed too easy, and it was too easy, and she hadn’t simply fallen into the group the way Usagi might have believed. 

But things changed, in September, however much it might frustrate Mako to live in the times in between, and so she was making a cake. It was more than a cake. It was a gesture. There was a birthday, today, and Ami had said she wasn’t sure she was going to do anything at all. Mako’d told Ami that if she wanted a party, all she had to do was offhandedly mention to Usagi that her birthday was coming, but Ami blushed and shook her head. A party was probably a little much, Mako thought, for a girl that seemed to say little, the one who simply cuddled a cat in the corner and listened to Rei and Usagi bicker. 

Sometimes she thought Usagi might be a little much. 

But the more she thought on it, the more it bothered her not to have anything at all for Ami, however little she knew her. It wasn’t right, to spend a birthday with nothing but a book, not even a cake to mark it, and if Mako could have seen the mirror of her own life, she might have recognized the sad girl who had spent the last few in that way, staring back at her. 

But in truth, as she put the simple vanilla cake into the oven, she saw only Ami, shy and retiring, but seemingly kind, without a cake. And she saw herself as the one to rectify it. 

Maybe it was that Ami, in that, shy, retiring, kind way, was the most approachable. Usagi was all the subtlety of a firework, and maybe equally likely to blow up in Mako’s face, however bright pink the sparkles. Rei was a cactus in the shape of a human being. Ami was a little like coaxing a timid cat from under the stairwell. With cake. Her simile was breaking down a little bit, and so she cast it to the side. 

What were Ami’s favorite colors? She couldn’t even begin to guess, as she mixed up a rich chocolate filling. At first she thought blue, being as she was Sailor Mercury, but then she considered that Sailor Jupiter was green, but her favorite color was pink, so it was just as likely that Ami’s didn’t quite match either. The question still wasn’t answered, too many colors in the spectrum, when her cake was cooled and filled. 

In the absence of knowing, she chose white, and trimmed it in simple chocolate at the edges, sprinkling bright colored candy confetti over the top. It wasn’t a masterwork, exactly, but it was attractive, and it didn't presume that Mako knew anything about Ami except that it was her birthday. Maybe she might have preferred a strawberry filling, Mako tried not to think, and she had only picked chocolate because Mako liked it so well. 

She set it in the cake box, simultaneously deciding that it no longer mattered and worrying that she had made a grave error. It wouldn’t be the first time that her attempted kindness had been met with rejection, that her way of blustering into things had been met with nothing but a stone wall. Maybe Ami wanted to spend her birthday alone, maybe she didn’t like birthdays, maybe she didn’t want a giant of a friend who clunked her way down the street, who secretly dreamed of being delicate and elegant. 

Mako thought about it long enough that the Mizuno apartment building appeared before her, and then the idea that if she turned back, she would have wasted the money on the cake ingredients. In tandem, they were enough to bring her to the door, enough to force her to ring the bell, and enough to have her stand silently as soft footsteps came forward. 

The door cracked open, and a puff of blue hair and wide glasses came from the crack of it. 

“Hi,” Mako smiled brightly, “I--Happy birthday!” she raised the cake box, just a little bit in front of her. 

“Makoto.” Ami stepped back a moment, puzzled. “For me?” 

“Unless there’s someone else here with a birthday.” She said, instantly regretting the snideness of it. 

An awkward laugh from Ami, an adjustment of her glasses. “No, just,” she giggled nervously,” me--” 

“I was only kidding,” Mako nodded, “I made this especially for you.” 

Ami straightened her back, smiled, and looked up. “Do you want to come in?” 

Mako had only ever been to the shrine, where they held meetings, but suddenly she forgot to be self-conscious. “Yeah, please!” 

The house was neat as a pin and seemed barely lived in, no art on the walls, the couch neatly arranged, a whiteboard on the wall that seemed to pass as communication between Ami and her mother. Mako sat the cake on the edge of the long counter that encompassed a kitchen that looked as if it haas never seen the kiss of flour or the spill of salt. 

Suddenly, she didn’t seem the loneliest girl in the world, after all, and this gave her strength to be bold. To be herself. 

“I hope you like chocolate.” she beamed. 

Ami nodded timidly. ‘It’s my favorite, I think.” 

Outside, the temperature fell, the leaves began to brown, and fall seemed to decide that it had finally come, bringing the cozy warm fires and softness of sweaters, people gathering close where they had once stood far apart.

[mellointheory]

Sand on the Soul chapter 2 is up. I can't sleep. Egg!Punz and Tommy dynamic possesses my soul now.

“Does anyone have any spruce?” Tommy stuck his head out of one of the tower’s half finished windows, raising his voice to be heard down below. Tubbo shook his head, not even looking up from where he was leaned back against a rock, strumming his ukulele without even trying to form a tune.

“Um, I can check.” Ranboo’s hands shimmered palely as he flicked through his inventory. “I think I gave all mine to Foolish, sorry.”

“Fuck, do I have to go find some?” Tommy slumped over the window frame, chin hitting the wood with a soft thump. He winced, lifting his head and rubbing his chin with one hand. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it was jarring. He needed to be more careful.

“I can go back to Snowchester and get some.” Ranboo unfolded his long legs and stood up. He pulled his trident out of his inventory.

“Thanks, Ranboo,” Tommy said reluctantly.

Ranboo walked to the edge of the water, netherite armor shimmering into place to cover him from head to foot. He knelt in the waves, then flicked up and into the air on his trident. Tommy watched him go, envy twisting in his stomach. His own trident—stolen from Dream himself—still lay untouched at the bottom of his enderchest. He couldn’t stand to use it now. Every time he was in the air without the solid ground under his feet, his stomach seized up with the fear of missing a landing and hitting the ground.

“You know, Tommy.” Tubbo said, snapping Tommy’s attention back to him. “Your tower actually doesn’t look so bad.”

Tommy grinned. “It does! I’m actually really proud of it.” He patted the spruce wall. “My tower’s definitely a woman, cuz it’s tall and strong. I should name her.”

“Name her Michael.”

Tommy frowned down at the horned boy. “I’m not gonna fucking name her Michael, Tubbo. That’s a stupid name.”

“Hey!” Tubbo said indignantly. “Michael is a fantastic name.”

Tommy started to answer, but was momentarily distracted by a shimmer of purple on the cliff overlooking the tower. Punz was sitting up there, legs swinging back and forth idly, staring at the prison. Tommy opened his mouth to mention it, then managed to pull his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I like the name Sylvia.” He ran a hand down one of the stone brick pillars in the wall. “Or Sally—oh, fuck, that was Wilbur’s girlfriend’s name. God, I hope I don’t turn out like him. Imagine fucking a—no, wait, don’t imagine that.”

Tubbo laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think I want to.”

“Do you have any good name suggestions? I’d ask Ranboo, but he’s not here.” Tommy paused. “And he’s dumb.”

“Tommy.”

“What? I know you’re, like, married to him and everything, but he’s still—“

“Tommy!” Tubbo’s voice lowered, just barely reaching Tommy where he stood. “You might want to come down. Look over there.” The scarred brunette nodded at the overlooking cliff.

“Wot?” Tommy looked up, shielding his eyes. “It’s just Punz, man.”

Tubbo grimaced. “Yeah, but he’s gone all red and eggy. He’s dangerous now.”

“Don’t worry, I can speak to him. I can communicate with the beasts, Tubbster. I’m like Tarzan.” Tommy waved up at the mercenary. “They waved back down at him. “God, he needs a haircut.”

Tubbo laughed. “You’re not much better, you know.”

“Yeah, but I have an excuse. I was dead.” Tommy told him.

“Actually, that’s a good question. Did your hair grow while you were dead?” Tubbo tilted his head, resting his chin on his palm.

“I dunno.” Tommy put his hand up to run his fingers through the strands of too-long blonde hair flopping down the side of his face. He hesitated, resting a palm on top of his head for a moment, remembering the ghost of someone else’s warmth. His own hand was smaller than Punz’s, not as warm, and less calloused. It wasn’t the same.

“Yeah, I’ve got no idea.” He blurted out, pulling his hand down.

“It seems longer, but that could just be cuz you haven’t cut it in a while.” Tubbo tilted his head back, glancing back up at the cliff. The ukelele in his hand flickered away, replaced by a netherite axe from his inventory. “Are you sure about him?”

Tommy’s eyes locked on the weapon. “He’s saved your life, Tubbo. I don’t think he’s a wrongun.”

He wanted to ask Tubbo to put the axe away, but he was just protecting him, after all. Tubbo wasn’t going to hurt him. Tommy turned around instead, unwilling to force himself to stare at it any longer, and leaned up against the wall. “Where’s fucking Ranboo gone?”

“He could be talking to Foolish. I—Tommy!”

Tommy ducked instinctively, flinching back against the wall. His stomach twisted, anxiety balling up in his throat. What was it—was it Sam, was it a mob? Was it Dream?

“Tommy?” Punz asked, crouched on the wall above him.

“Punz, what are you doing?” Tommy turned back around to see Tubbo with a loaded bow in hand.

“I brought Tommy some food.” Punz shrugged, straightening upright and stepping off the wall to land silently behind Tommy.

“Tubbo, could you put the bow away?” Tommy asked, sidling a little bit behind Punz. The mercenary was in full netherite and Tommy was wearing diamond armor. Between the two of them Punz could handle an arrow to the face far better. Tommy had had his share of arrows to his face, both in the sleeping and waking world. They were far from pleasant.

Tubbo nodded silently, letting the bow vanish back into his inventory.

“Look, Tommy.” Punz pulled somethign out of his inventory and placed it on the window cill. It was a cake, squarish, with white frosting and red sprinkles. Punz gave it a proud look. “Cake.”

“Do you—can I have some?” Tommy glanced at their face. Punz nodded, so he reached over and broke off a piece, shoving it into his mouth. God, it tasted good. Most of what Tommy had eaten in the past few days was just bread and raw carrots.

“Hey, I want some!” Tubbo got up and dashed into the lower level of the tower.

“Punz,” Tommy said through a mouthful of cake. “Why is your hair so long? You’re really letting yourself go, man.”

Punz laughed, fingering a strand of the shaggy hair reaching to his shoulder. “I just haven’t cut it in a while. I’ve been busy with the egg.”

“I don’t like the egg.” Tubbo’s head poked up from the lower level as he climbed up the ladder. “It’s mean."

“It doesn’t bother me.” Tommy grabbed another chunk of cake. “I’m immune. Like a…canary.”

“I don’t think canaries are immune to much of anything, really.” Tubbo came over and broke off a piece of cake for himself. Punz stepped back as he approached, moving to the opposite side of the tower and jumping up to sit on the half-built wall.

“That’s only in mineshaft. Out of mineshafts, anything’s possible.” Tommy mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. “That’s why I don’t go mining, it’s dangerous for me.”

“You should go mining sometime soon, you’re so poor.” Tubbo laughed.

Tommy let out an incredulous huff, turning to his friend and protesting. By the next time his eyes crossed the space where the mercenary had been, they were gone.

—————————————————

Punz waited quietly, watching as the enderman returned and gave Tommy the spruce he needed to complete the tower walls. He watched them argue over who got the most cake and whether normal or black glass would look better and how many dolphins were probably pissing in the ocean at that exact moment. He watched them escort Tommy safely inside the gates of his property after it grew dark, watched the kid farm and replant his wheat. It wasn't until Tommy finally disappeared inside his house that Punz rose to their feet and took the trident back to their property. Tommy wouldn't leave his house until morning, and they had other obligations as well.

The bloodlines opened up underneath him, leaving a clear area for him to land on top of the tower. They curled away from under his boots, deep red writhing against the tower’s pale stone. Out here all the vines had thorns, curving, some of them almost half as long as his thumb. Beautiful, dangerous. He loved the colors.

As they slid down the ladder the vines crawling down the walls seemed to hum. They’d spent enough time with the bloodvines that he could hear what they wanted to say.

The boy isn’t necessary.

“Tommy?” Punz stepped away from the ladder, jumping down the hole in the middle of the floor and landing in a pool of water that served to break his fall. He was in his bedroom now, where the vines grew the most prolifically. They twined between the chest son the walls, arching through the open windows. He used to have little pots of flowers there to entice his bees to wander in on the search for nectar. The flowers had withered now, replaced by the blooms of the vines.

He is a nuisance. He shouldn’t be alive.

“That’s not very nice.” Punz let the armor covering them shimmer into their inventory. “Tommy’s not so bad.”

Tommy is an interference. The translucent red leaves quivered.

Punz ran their fingers through their hair. Tommy was right, it was getting long. They hadn’t been paying much attention to it—really, they hadn’t been awake much for the past few weeks. The vines and the scent they gave off was too relaxing. It made it easy to just close his eyes and fall asleep.

“He liked the cake.” Punz remembered in satisfaction. He hadn’t baked it himself—Hannah had so many to spare, and Punz didn’t ahve the ingredients he needed. He wasn’t stacked on food either—potatoes and stolen cake were their main options. Potatoes were for some reason off the table for Tommy, but everyone liked cake.

The vines’ voices settled down to a displeased hum in the back of his ears.

“Tommy’s kinda my responsibility at the moment.” Punz shrugged, lifting his chain from around his neck and hanging it on the wall. They stopped, brushing their fingers across the petals of one of the flowers drooping beside the windowsill. “He’s my job now.”

The plans will move forward.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he’s not a problem.” Punz reassured them.

Sixty-seven gold blocks. Punz had one overarching principle in life: his employees got what they paid for. Sam had paid for someone to protect Tommy, to take care of him.

Sam would get what he’d bought. The egg would understand.

[originofjaehyun]

Interlude: No More Drama | Part 5 | Day Dream

Interlude: No More Drama Masterlist

Word count: 3,496

Warnings: None

Part 5 | Day Dream

“Oh you and I falling further for love.”

Prev • Next

The amber flickers at the end of his lighter, lighting up one of the ends of his cigarette. He took a deep breath and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaving a trail of grey smoke. A tall dapper figure approached him, with the sound of the ice hitting the plastic glass filled with deep-brown liquid.

“Mind if I join?” Johnny said to him, already hung his cigarette in between his lips.

“I can use a company,” passing him his lighter, this is the usual afternoon after lunch for both Johnny and Jaehyun. They would go for a cigarette break at the smoking area while catching up on things. It can be work-related, or sometimes on personal subjects.

“So, it’s been three months. How’s everything?” Johnny asked while passing back the lighter after successfully lighting up his cigs.

“If you’re asking me how she’s doing, I think you know it better than I am. You’re constantly emailing her with the project. I bet you talk to her more than I did.”

“Seriously?” He lets out a puff, filling the room with his smoke. 

“Dude, it’s been three months and there’s no progress? I won’t be surprised if [Y/N]’s going to leave you for another man.”

Jaehyun tried to keep his calm, inhaling another breath of his cigarette, “It’s not like that,”

“I’m just… trying to be careful. We went on a few dates and she’s wonderful. I feel like every time we went out, even just to the nearby street food stalls, everything just sparkled and I could listen to her laughter every day.”

Johnny furrowed his brows, “You know that doesn’t add up, right? Did you hear yourself? You’re smitten, Jaehyun!”

Glints of flame appear on the end of Jaehyun’s cigarette. He is lost in his thoughts, not answering Johnny.

“Hey, look. I know you’re in… a difficult situation Jae. But think about it, she might be the one, but she might not be either. There’s no harm in trying, right?”

“But what if she’s the one, Johnny? The last thing that I would want to do is to hurt her feelings.”

Johnny used the hands that he didn’t use to hold his cigarette to support his forehead, grumbles, “I get it, and I get you can’t just tell anyone out of the blue about it too. But I hope you can give this one a chance. It’s been a long while since I saw you all over someone, and I know [Y/N]’s is not as weak as you thought she was. She’s amazing, I think she’d be the one you can tell about this.”

There’s a pause in between, space only filled with their huffs. The smoke waltzes in the air, making the room tasted like a jaundiced tar.

It’s been too long since he was selfless.

“Now you said it that way,” Jaehyun said, exhaling the grey smoke, “I might have to put my dib on her first. Who knows, someone might steal her away.”

Crescent moons emerged from Johnny’s eyes, “That’s what I’m talking about!” He then used his free arm to embrace Jaehyun, pulling his shoulder.

“By that someone,” Jaehyun then rolled his eyes to Johnny, “I mean it’s you.”

It replaces the dark, cloudy room atmosphere with laughter.

–

“Baking class?”

“Yes, I thought I can prove to you that I can cook fairly well.” The sound of the car’s engine was heard from the other side. It seems like Jaehyun just went home, and it’s almost 10 PM.

“Well cooking and baking is an entirely different thing, you know?”

“And that is exactly why I think the baking class is a great idea. I’m a great cook, if I may say so. I baked a bit during high school but that is when I…”

He paused.

“Jaehyun? Hello?” You called for him, wondering if the signal was disturbed.

“Oh yeah, I was saying,” He cleared his throat, “I think it would be fun. I actually already booked two tickets for us in advance, because the class that I’m taking is actually quite popular.”

That’s very sweet. You thought to yourself, “What if I say I wouldn’t come? That’s very brave of you thinking that I would just agree to it.”

He chuckled, “I don’t know, I guess I’ll take Johnny. I pretty much know his schedule and he’s free that day. I think.”

You burst out in laughter, “Two male adults taking a baking class? That’s adorable!” You pictured Jaehyun and Johnny both in aprons, decorating their cakes as you tried to bite your laughter. “You sure I wouldn’t get in your way to have the perfect date with Johnny?”

“Of course I would prefer to do it with you!” He sulked, “I mean, we’ve been going around coffee shops and I think a different date setup would be nice, no?”

“I'm just kidding, Jaehyun.” You decided not to tease him any longer, “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

He can finally sigh in relief, “Great. I’ll pick you up at your place. I’ll be there at 10 AM?”

“Wait, when is the baking class again?”

“It actually starts at 12. I think we’re not going to make anything that’s overly complicated so it won’t take that much time, but I thought we could grab some coffee first before we went to the class?”

Sweet as ever.

“But it’s Saturdaaay, don’t you think I deserve to have more time with my bed?” You whined, pretending that you have the cutesy charm when in reality you almost don’t have it at all.

You can hear the familiar sound of him letting out a soft chuckle at the other end, “I promise you I can give you better cuddles than your bed? Or we can cuddle first if you want… then I can bring coffees to your place instead.”

“Oh how smooth of you!” You shrieked, grateful that he’s not in front of you to witness your flushed cheeks.

“I’ll take the first coffee offer, thank you. I would probably need it anyway to fill up my daily caffeine intake.”

He laughs, genuine but there’s a slight hint of disappointment, “Alright, I’ll see you on Saturday. I almost reached my place so I’m gonna end the call.”

“Sure, I’ll see you soon.”

You paused before continuing, “Jaehyun?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll also take the cuddle offer if that’s ok with you.” You said to him before planting your face to your pillow out of embarrassment.

He finally laughed, lovingly, “Sure, [Y/N]. I’ll give you plenty.”

–

You took a sip at your hot latte, surprised with how perfect it was.

“How do you know my coffee order?”

He smiled, proceeded to blow his own cup while he guided you to walk to the baking class’ direction, “We went to a lot of coffee dates, [Y/N], it would be weirder if I don’t know your usual order.”

Jaehyun insisted that he would be the one who’ll take the take-away order. He asked you to just sit down and wait at one of the waiting chairs at the cafe. He told you that you’re going to walk to the class from the coffee shop since it is within walking distance but you know he actually wants to talk to you for a bit before going to the lesson. 

You took a glance at him, how could a person be so attentive? You wonder. He took a sip of his own coffee, immediately pushing the cup away from his lips then sticking his tongue out, indicating that the coffee is currently too hot for his liking.

“Aw Jaehyun, I didn’t know you have a cat’s tongue! You always order an iced americano so I never know.”

“Well, today is special since we’re walking outside, and it’s still quite chilly to get myself an iced americano,” He said while licking his lips, trying to subdue the numbness, “But yeah I guess there’s another free fact I give to you, huh?”

He stretched out his hands, asking for yours. Shyly, you took his hand and you intertwined your fingers with him. The weather was indeed rather cold, but Jaehyun's hand was warm. You walked together while he would occasionally swing his hand in excitement. He’s like an adorable golden retriever. You can’t help but to grin every time, and it is contagious as he would lovingly smile at you too.

You finally reached the shop, where the sign reads Kitchen Beat. The store was indeed well known for their pastries. It is a humble bakehouse, but it has recently become very popular due to a reality-show coverage. The cakes they sell are nothing that’s overly groundbreaking, but the taste feels very authentic and feels like a passed-family recipe, therefore gathered loyal customers. Because of that, they’ve been expanding their business to having limited baking class each month. 

“We’re here,” Jaehyun reaffirms that you will certainly attend a class here. “The class is on the second floor. Let’s go.”

He said while still refusing to let go of your hand. The store is busy, but not bustling with people. The atmosphere is cozy, and it feels like Christmas. 

“Hi!” A warm smile came from one of the staff, “Are you going to join our baking class today?”

Jaehyun replied to her smile, dimples poking both of his cheeks, “Yes, I already book 2 slots under the name Jeong Jaehyun.”

The staff nods, while checking the tablet she’s holding. “Yup, two adults for the couple, I assume?” She glanced at the sight of your hands that are still holding Jaehyun's.

“Oh!” You flustered, reactively letting go of his hand. “We’re actually not.”

“Yet.” Jaehyun intercept.

Your cheeks start to flushed in the color bright pink while you shoot a glare at him, embarrassed at why he’s so open about his feelings. The staff burst in laughter, “Well I hope our cakes can help you with that. They really are very good.”

“Please go to the room that has the label Kitchen One. We’re waiting for two more couples to come before we can start our class!”

You and Jaehyun walked to the designated room, and after a few steps you threw a slap onto Jaehyun’s arm.

“Ouch!” He rubs the part of his arm where you landed your slap. “What was that for?”

“Why did you have to tell her about us! You can just lie to her or something.”

“Oh?” He raised one of his brows, “So I can just tell her that we are official?”

You smacked his arm again, followed by him pretending that he’s hurt when in reality you know he can handle your soft punches. 

“You really are like a little firecracker, feisty as always.”

He opened the sliding door, exposing you and him to the audience inside. You are about to reply to his teasing, before you suddenly saw the change of the color on his face.

“Jaehyun?”

His apron was tied very well to his slim waist. His eyes met Jaehyun’s, only causing Jaehyun to tense his jaws. That person immediately approached where you and Jaehyun were, as Jaehyun stopped his steps after that person called him. He was another stunning man, and it makes you wonder what Jaehyun did in his past life to be surrounded with attractive people. 

“Taeyong.” Jaehyun’s voice was low, and faint, signalling that he didn’t want to be the center of attention since now few pair of eyes were in your direction.

“What are you doing here?” Taeyong finally breaks the tension in between them. His tone is not aggressive but you can sense that it is very territorial.

“I’m joining the class. I should be the one...” Jaehyun saw the name tag hanging on Taeyong’s apron. “Right, it makes sense for you to teach here.”

The silence grows louder. Jaehyun still remained in his position, not moving a single inch. You want to try to calm him down, trying to ask him to enter the room first and continue the conversation at one corner instead of in front of everyone. Taeyong finally saw your figure that has been hiding behind Jaehyun.

“So, you got plenty of time,” Taeyong looked briefly at you, “But you can’t afford to contact him?”

“Taeyong.”

“Do you know how much he holds on? Can you imagine how he would feel if he saw you neglecting him, just to see you having the time of your life with some random girl?”

“Yong!” Jaehyun finally raised his voice, “She got nothing to do with this. And if that is how you saw me, by all means label it to me, but don’t drag her.”

Realizing that now you have full attention of the other audiences that had been rudely eavesdropping onto Jaehyun and Taeyong’s conversation, you decided to step in, “Jaehyun? I think we should… move to the side for a bit.”

You can see his facial muscles start to relax. It seems that your voice managed to calm him down. He then holds your hand, trying to find an empty kitchen island so that you and him can start to prep yourself for the class, brushing Taeyong off.

Taeyong tried to stop you, fortunately the staff earlier came in with the last two couples. There were six couples in total, including you and Jaehyun. Thankfully Taeyong got stationed at the other end, and you tried your best to distract Jaehyun from him. You can see Taeyong took a glimpse at your table, every now and then, but you make sure Jaehyun didn’t notice it.

“Good afternoon everyone!” A woman in her mid-40s gathered everyone’s attention. “I’m going to be your main instructor today and we have few teachers that are stationed nearby you to help you during the baking process. For today’s class, we are going to bake our signature fresh cream cake. It’s pretty simple for beginners and it is very suitable to be eaten at this time of the year!”

She clasp both of her hands, “Alright now! Shall we begin?”

–

“I’ll put the cake in the fridge first, yeah?”

You’re back at your place, as there’s no way either you or Jaehyun going to finish a whole cake by yourself. You decided to eat them after having your dinner outside.

The baking class started off pretty rough, with how sensitive Jaehyun was. But you choose not to pry to his personal issues. So you just playfully smudge some cake flour, poking it to his dimples. He almost got his revenge but you’re in luck because the teacher was looking at him and told him not to play with the ingredients. Afterwards, the Jaehyun that you know is back, the warmhearted Jaehyun. It’s also a good thing Taeyong didn’t bother you much during class, as he was also occupied with teaching the other students. He did try to talk to Jaehyun after class, but Jaehyun just simply told him that today is probably not the best time for them to talk.

“Do you want to open the beers now?” He asked you while you’re busy re-arranging the content of your fridge.

“Ah, just leave mine on the counter. I’ll catch you up at the balcony.”

Jaehyun nods in agreement, leaving your share at the counter as instructed. He took his can and walked to the balcony. You’re almost done and you can hear the sound of his lighter.

You opened your can, making him turn his head to you. You walk to his side, resting your head to his arm. 

“You’re not going to ask?” 

You look at him, you were about to fire up your cigs, postponing it by drawing them out of your lips, “I believe you’re going to tell me on your own once you’re ready.”

“I know whatever happened today is probably something that I should never dig without your permission. Besides, it would also feel nicer if you’re going to tell me from your own will. Feels like you fully trusted me, you know?”

You ended your sentence with a smile, causing him to move his head downwards, before making another eye contact with you.

His lips are now pressing together, exposing his smile, “And this is the very reason why I’m grateful that I fall for you.”

You didn’t expect him to suddenly confess like this, so you are a bit taken aback with it. You awkwardly shift your gaze somewhere else, fidgeting on your unlit cigarette.

Jaehyun puts down both his cigarette and his share of beer, moving closer to you. He swiftly crossed his arms over you, forcing you to be within his arm and look at his eyes once more. 

“Oh, uhm, well…”

“I actually don’t understand why you do, actually.” You said as you look at the direction of the skyline, feeling too embarrassed to see him eye-to-eye. “I’ve mentioned that there are prettier girls than me, I bet you’ve met better ones in any other aspects too…”

“[Y/N], I wish you could see how much I love you.”

He cuts you before you could continue. He locks eyes with you and you could see just how deep they really are. The soft warmness of them wraps around you affectionately, but not in the way of those cheesy romance novels. You can tell that what he’s trying to say was true.

“Yes, I might be attracted to you because you’re different. The first time I saw you and talked to you, I can see a bit of me in you. You know, I probably longed for you because you don’t fawn on me in the first place.”

“But that night when I saw you again at Wolfgang’s, I just know I’m not taking anymore chances. The dates we’ve spent, you’ve let me discover a side of me that I didn’t know. I never know I could expose my feelings to someone like this.”

You can feel the heat starting to pile on your face, showing your now flushed cheeks over his confession. Noticing that the wind was a bit harsh, he pulls you closer in his arms. Not that you need another heat-pack, human-sized for it matters, you can also feel Jaehyun’s starting to get very warm too. You return his embrace, snuffling your face to his chest.

“The more days I spend with you, the more I fall for you.”

You swore you can feel the butterflies in your stomach start to fly in every direction. 

“I’m glad I found you. Loving you feels like I’m dreaming.”

He lets out the most genuine smile, eyes glistening with his droplets showing how sincere he is. “[Y/N], I really like how we are right now but I guess I’m quite the ambitious man.”

“Will you let me take care of you?”

You would regret it if you kept hiding in his hug, so you didn’t. You saw him directly to meet his gaze, and can’t help to admit that you feel the same way too.

“You know, Jaehyun, you’re an oddball. You just fall for a stranger, how dangerous could that be?!” 

“But then again, I guess I’m an oddball too. I don’t know, it’s probably the wind, but it keeps pushing me, one step at the time closer to you. And you’re warm, and I like that.”

Realizing where you’re going, Jaehyun couldn’t hide his smile.

“I guess, I’m falling further for love?” You said as you smile at him, making his smile grow even wider that you’re scared his dimples might be poking his cheeks a little bit too hard right now.

“If you’re sure you’ll have me, then I’ll be glad to have someone like you to take care of me. Only if you promise you’ll let me take care of you too.”

Your reply instantly filled him with joy, as he rushed to hug you tighter. 

“Thank you,” He said while caressing your head, “I promise I’ll treat you well.”

“Also,” He continues, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, nor did I try to hide anything from you. It’s just… the timing is not right yet. I promise you when everything is all good, you’d be the first person I tell.”

You let go of his hug, so that you can see him in the eyes, “Jaehyun, I understand. There’s no need to rush anything, yeah? I still love you for who you are and I don’t think that feelings could change that easily.” You cupped your hand to his cheeks, making sure Jaehyun knows that you’re being sincere.

Just before Jaehyun could reply, his phone rang.

He looked at the caller’s name on his screen, “Sorry, I think I should take this call. Do you want to smoke first? I’ll go inside for a while, I’ll come back soon.”

You nod, and he only answered after he’s inside so you didn’t catch the caller’s name.

How you wish you’d push yourself to know who the caller was.

A/N: Hehe eek is this chapter too sweet? I hope you guys are still around for the fluffy chapters T_T

[gisachi]

Surprise Me, Surprise You (Happy Shinichi Day! 05.04.20) (ShinRan. Drabble. College. Roommates.)

.

.

(Many months after the Blackout incident…)

.

He is out late again.

Going back to their apartment a little past midnight has slowly turned into a routine. School work, on top of detective work, is such a pain. The only thing he’s grateful for is the fact that he likes his major, Criminology, so damn much. Had it been otherwise, the reason for going home late for the past few days will be because of a real case of homicide, not because of a simulated midterm project geared to identify fingerprints, blood splatters, and wounds for his Forensics class.

Not that he wants more homicides to happen. Well. Real, unsolved cases make him feel alive. Not school requirements.

He shuffles for his keys and opens the front door quietly, careful not to make any unnecessary sound that might disrupt the sleep of his roommate.

Roommate slash childhood friend slash most favorite person in the world —

— Platonically. Or so he forces himself to believe.

The light in the living room is still open, much to his confusion. He walks to the light switch, only to stop short upon seeing a figure sleeping soundly by the dining table.

Ah. There she goes again.

He shrugs and approaches the woman. She looks so peaceful sleeping like a log that for a moment he debates on whether or not to wake her up or just drape her with a blanket. But whatever decision he thinks of becomes moot upon hearing a tired sigh, followed by a long, disconcerted yawn.

He almost snorts at how ridiculous she looks as she stretches her limbs while wearing that striped party hat on her head.

“Nn...Shinichi?”

“Mhm,” he pulls up a seat, eyes half lidded, his elbows on the table as one palm couches his cheek. “You fell asleep here. Again. How tired are you on a daily basis?”

She rubs her eyes, attempting to ride them off of sleepiness.

“What time is it?”

“12:25 AM.”

“Twel... EH?!”

Like a panic-stricken child, Ran stands upright, droopiness gone in an instant. She glances at her phone and her face whitens. After hurriedly sending a mail, she pulls out a match from her back pocket and lights a small candle sticking out from the center of a finely baked pie, which has surprisingly gone unnoticed in front of him.

Shinichi watches in quiet amazement as Ran lifts the pastry and brings it near his face.

“Ha-... Happy birthday, Shinichi!”

Shinichi blinks owlishly.

It’s my birthday?

“It’s your birthday, you moron!” Ran answers, like she has just read his mind.

“Oh.” He looks at the pie in front of him, then at her. “It is...Oh. Okay.”

She rolls her eyes and releases a groan. “Geez. I knew it, you forgot your birthday again!” She slides back to her chair in defeat. “You never really care for occasions like this, do you?”

He smiles apologetically.

“Well, worry not,” she places the pie on the table, “because that’s what I’m here for. To remind you!”

For a detective geek’s best friend, this girl’s pretty painstakingly persistent. He has known this since they were young, remembering the many times she’d coax him into eating, drinking, and sleeping, everytime his detective brain got the best of him. Some people would give up easily, but not her. Although her ramblings were never guaranteed to work on him all the time, she remained relentless in reminding him to do human things because he’s, you know, human, and if she won’t, no one else will.

Somehow, this trait of hers has grown on him and admittedly, he finds it kinda nice. She’s like his own personal alarm clock. When he finds himself too engrossed in unworldly interests, or lost in track for whatever reason, her smiling face will randomly pop up in his head to tell him to breathe. Rest. Take it easy. Then he’ll do it and be okay again.

That’s one of the many reasons why he considers her his most favorite person in the world.

In a platonic sense.

(Read: Not.)

“Sometimes, it’s nice to take a break and celebrate moments like this, you know?” She remarks, bringing her face to her palm. “Especially with people you love.”

She smiles at him appreciatively, and his heart flutters at that.

With people you love. Yeah.

“Now, make a wish and blow the candle!” And so he does. Ran claps her hand once the fire is extinguished, and readies to slice the pie with a knife she prepared beforehand.

Ran gives him a hefty piece and awaits his reaction on the first bite.

“So? How is it?” Her eyes glimmer in anticipation for his answer, and she gets it when he widens his eyes and licks the crumbs around his lips in interest.

“Lemon pie...” He blushes at how delicious it tastes. “My favo-”

“Your favorite! Yay, I’m really glad the taste turned out well!” She cups her cheeks in glee, marveling at her achievement. “I’ve only tried baking it once, so I’m not really confident about it.”

He forks more crumbs and eats in silence.

You should be. It’s the most delicious lemon pie I’ve ever tasted!

“I learned from Asami-senpai that you like lemon pie. You know, our former student council president? The really pretty senpai who was liked by everybody from our high school?”

I know her. No one compares to you, though.

“You might’ve forgotten about that already, Shinichi, but she baked the whole soccer club a lemon pie and you-” she snorts, “-you said it was bad! Oh my god! How dare you?”

It really was! I couldn’t lie...

“Anyway, she also told me that she confessed her feelings to you but you rejected her. Said you’ve been in love with somebody else for years…” she drifts away, shoving another bite into her mouth, chuckling passively.

“I wonder who the lucky girl is?”

...Can’t lie.

“It’s you.”

Her giggle dies down, mouth stops munching, smile instantly disappearing from her lips. Eyes widen like saucers, her face contorting to an unfathomable expression he can best associate to pure bewilderment.

“Wh...what?”

“I said it’s you,” he looks away.

He doesn’t mean to say that out loud —

“...always been you.”

— and repeat it thrice.

But oh boy, there he goes.

How does she look right now? Surprised? Confused? Betrayed? He cannot confirm. He’s afraid to look again. He doesn’t think he can.

(I love you.)

But alas, his senses betray him as his eyes instinctively flit back up, locking with hers, searching in desperation for whatever answer her beautiful eyes store.

Though words fail him (and her) at the moment, he wants to know.

He hopes ‘I love you back’ is a set of crystal eyes edging with tears that if she blinks, they’ll fall. He hopes ‘I love you back’ is a sharp, quivering inhale, unable to release an exhale, because she needs to fill her lungs with air or else she’ll pass out. He hopes ‘I love you back’ is that nervous bite on her lower lip, stopping the waterfall of words about to gush out.

(Do you love me too?)

He moves his face closer, closer to her... maybe he’ll get a clearer answer if he sees her eye to eye, nose to nose, breath to breath—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

As quick as lightning, Ran stands up from her seat, face as red as her ridiculous striped party hat.

“G-gee, I wonder wh-who’s at the door?! Haha! C-Can you open it, Shinichi?”

She stutters and he cannot help but laugh at her awkwardness. He coughs and walks his way to the door. Weirdo as always.

...

You just confessed to her on your birthday. Now who’s the more awkward one?

“SURPRISE!!”

He jolts at the sudden outburst of energy radiating from the other side. Startled to the bones, his eyes jump from one person to the other.

Kazuha-san. Hattori. Tou-san. Kaa-san. Sonoko. Kyougoku-san.

A mix of voices all echoing the same birthday greeting fills his ears, as he stands there confused as to who he shall prioritize first -- Yukiko hugging him, Heiji patting his head like he’s some disciple, Sonoko taking a picture of the sweet parent-child moment, Makoto holding a Shinichi banner with Shinichi’s big sleeping face plastered on it, Kazuha laughing at the background, or Ran admiring everything from inside their apartment.

“We hope we didn’t disturb a sacred moment,” Yusaku butts in, eyes shifting between Ran and Shinichi.

“We mailed Ran-chan and told her we’ll drop by and surprise you, Shin-chaaan!” Yukiko hugs him more tightly, earning her a wince from the birthday boy.

Entering the apartment freely, the four younger adults hang the banner a little above the pie Ran baked. Heiji and Kazuha unbox a chocolate cake they probably bought on their way to them, while Sonoko assists Makoto uncork a bottle of champagne and prepare eight glasses of wine on the table.

“To Kudo!” Hattori exclaims, as he lights the other cake on the table.

“To Kudo!” everyone shouts in unison.

He looks at the people, admiring everyone who went out of their way to pull this stupid surprise.

“This is what I actually meant when I said celebrating your birthday with people you love,” she whispers beside him, shyly.

He grins stupidly at himself, then looks at her. “And I am now, right?”

In more ways than one.

Cheeks turning crimson, she averts his gaze and looks at the wave of people now crowding over her lemon pie.

“Yes, yes you are.”

The pair looks at Yusaku and Yukiko setting their presents beside the pie; Makoto taking Sonoko’s photos as she pauses in front of their birthday surprise set up. Heiji and Kazuha bicker as to who gets the bigger slice of the pastry.

Amidst the noise, Ran finds herself staring at a full body mirror across the unit, reflecting her and him, side by side, the others blurred in the background.

“And these people you love... they love you back,” she refocuses her gaze on him. “Surely.”

She smiles so wide that it hides her eyes.

“Happy birthday, Shinichi.”

(I love you.)

“Yeah,” he smiles back. “Happy birthday to me.”

...

(I love you, too.)

.

.

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (14/?)

AO3

It’s a little after 10 when Damian comes home, his face paint starting to rub off and his puffed shirt untucked from his pants. While the bus is almost deserted at this hour, tonight it was half full, mostly consisting of drunk college students (and some high schoolers) on their way to or back from some party and reeking of alcohol. Damian had sat at the front the whole journey, his bag held between his legs and his eyes down. Maybe he should reconsider his stance on getting his licence.

When he opens the door, it’s to the sight of his mom standing in the hallway with their trick or treat bowl in her hand, her eyes shooting upwards when she sees her son on the doorstep rather than some neighbourhood kids. She looks a little disappointed too. She does love handing out candy, and fawning over every single costume, no matter how scrappy it looks. It’s her little Halloween tradition.

“Damian,” she greets. “You’re back.”

“Yep,” he replies, pulling off his coat and running his fingers through his hair. His mom nods, slightly speechless, but smiling, nonetheless. Damian peers into the bowl of treats in her hands. “Did we have much success tonight?”

“Oh, loads,” he says, holding the bowl out to her. He picks up a funsize KitKat and a lollipop, slipping the former into his pocket and the latter into his mouth. It’s one of those dark ones that’ll turn his tongue blue. “Sometimes I thought it would have been easier to just hang out at the door and wait for people. I had barely sat down before another one showed up.”

“Well, that may be because everyone knew you were making your famous death by chocolate this year,” he reminds her, poking their finger at his chest. His mom has a bit of a reputation in all circles for being a master baker. School fundraisers, boy scout meetings, weddings, funerals, she bakes for all of them and she bakes to perfection. Damian and his sisters have all insisted she go on some big baking competition and win them all a big juicy cheque. “Speaking of which…”

“Yes, your slice is in the fridge,” she tells him, caressing his cheek. She can barely ask if he has room for it before he speeds off to the kitchen, leaving her chuckling behind him. Cara and Maisie are sitting at the kitchen table, Maisie with a tutu attached to her skeleton outfit, Cara with a pirate’s hat beside her and a mountain of candy sits between them.

“Oh, someone had a good night,” he comments, giving Maisie a fright. “You two little terrors raid the neighbourhood?”

“Yep,” Maisie chirps. “Everyone gave us so much stuff! Mrs Jenkins at number 17 even gave us a whole packet of gummy worms each!”

“And where’s mine?” he asks.

“Mom says you got food at your school thing,” Cara reminds him, her eyebrow raised. She has far too much attitude for a 10 year old. He doesn’t mean to sound like a boomer, but he thinks kids these days grow up far too quickly. He knows that Cara may be on her last years of trick-or-treating and that she’s desperate to go out to parties with the big kids. “So she said you didn’t need to save you any.”

“I did indeed get food at my school thing,” he tells her, closing the fridge door with his cake in hand. “Thank you very much, little miss.” She rolls her eyes, but he catches her smile as he sits down beside them. “So, spill, I want to hear everything.”

“It was fun,” Maisie says. “We went all around this block and then we went to the next block. Just a little bit though, because we were worried about getting lost.”

“I wasn’t,” Cara says, an edge in her voice. “Damian and I used to trick or treat on that block all the time.”

“Yeah but we had Janis too,” he reminds her, watching her sink back in her chair. “And even then we didn’t do every house.” He loves Cara with every bone in his body, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to put her in her place. That no matter how big she gets; attitude doesn’t fly in this house. He dreads to think what will happen when he leaves and his mom is left with her. Hopefully, she’ll have mellowed out by then.

“Did you see Janis at your school thing?” Maisie asks, pushing her candy around the table. It’s an innocent question, a sweet one even, born out of genuine curiosity and his sister’s ever-growing love for Janis. And it’s an easy answer too. But none of that means he’s not uncomfortable with it.

“Yeah I did,” he replies.

“So she’s finished with hospital now?” she asks again and Cara visibly stiffens beside her. After telling his mom, they both agreed to give the girls slightly different versions, based on what they can handle. All Maisie knows is that Janis had to go to hospital for a while and that she lost her hair. Cara is the only one of them who knows about ‘the C word’.

“Not quite yet,” he tells her. “She will be soon though. But her doctor let her come out for a few hours to hang with us.”

“Oh,” she says. She tosses a candy bar between her hands, her expression thoughtful. “Well, that’s good. Could you give her this when you see her?” She pushes the bar across the table. It’s big, probably the biggest one she has, packed with caramel, according to the wrapper. And Maisie loves caramel. His breath catches as emotion stirs in him, pride swelling in his chest. “Just in case she needs to be cheered up.”

“Thanks, Maise,” he tells her. “Next time I see her, I’ll give it to her.” His sister smiles at his assurance and goes back to sorting through her own loot. Cara avoids his gaze, her chest rising and falling heavily and her fists clenched on the table.

“And… how is she?” she finally asks. “Janis, I mean.” He doesn’t miss the way her voice cracks when she asks, the anxiety seeping into her words, and he places his hand over hers.

“She’s good.” He doesn’t get why they words feel so clumsy in his mouth, because they’re the truth. He saw it with his own eyes, felt it when she jumped on him and wrapped him in one of those tighter than tight hugs. He could feel the strength in her body. She’s good. She looked good, not just costume wise (although he did like her minimal approach). She looked healthy. Ish. Not like she used to, but that’s normal. Even if her skin was a little paler than he remembered it, or the fact that she’s far thinner than she used to be. And she had to zip up her jacket as much as she could, and even then she was still shivering, but that’s fine. And as the night went on, she did spend more and more time leaning either him or Cady, but that’s normal. They’re all side effects, and they all mean that the treatment’s working. And once they get out on the other side of it, they’ll be fine.

He blinks, pulling himself out of whatever wormhole he just fell down. There’s a slight ringing in his head from it and he tries to shake it off, Cara and Maisie both eyeing him with concern.

“Janis is great,” he tells them firmly. He takes Cara back a little. He takes a deep breath in, his surroundings settling and grounding around him. “Uh, hey, you guys have a lot of candy here. How about we see if we can wrestle the remote from Mom and watch Halloweentown?”

“For real?” Cara asks, her face breaking out into a smile. “Okay, cool! I think Mom’s nearly done with her thing anyway. I’ll go check.”

“Meanwhile I’ll go change into something more comfy and movie-watchy,” he says, stretching as she stands. She nods, excitement sparking in her eyes, before she sets off down the hallway. Damian laughs and helps Maisie pile everything into two big bowls, planning to fit them on either side of him so that the girls can snack as they wish. Before he goes, he picks up the candy bar from the table and taps her nose with it, a soft giggle escaping her mouth as he does.

“And don’t you worry,” he tells her. “I’ll get this to Janis as soon as I can.”

“Can she come trick or treating with us next year?” she asks. “It’s no fun without her.”

He blinks at her and suddenly, the smile on his face feels fake somehow. Hollow. Like it’s hiding something, even though he doesn’t know what.

“She’d love that,” he tells her. “Now come on, this movie isn’t going to watch itself.” He runs upstairs to change, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and his Halloween sweater, the comfort a treat after a day of walking around in character shoes. The photo sits in their message log, not changing no matter how long he looks at it. He makes an effort to be okay with it, really, knowing that right now there are any number of reasons she might not be looking at her phone, and that none of them have to be bad. She always does answer, nine times out of ten with a perfectly reasonable explanation like she was asleep, so why should this be any different? The day probably tired her out, that’s all.

It’s only when he realises five minutes have passed that he shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking his head like that will straighten everything going on inside.

“You’re losing it Hubbard,” he mutters to himself. And for the one who normally has it, that’s bad. He takes a deep breath in, and then another one, until he feels more like himself again, and heads downstairs.

Much as he appreciates how important what Janis is doing is, he also can’t help wishing they could just skip past all of it to the part where she’s better and they’re normal again.

It’s the day after Halloween when Janis makes a realisation. She’s sitting in her bed, shaking off the last of what she likes to call a “chemo hangover” when she notices something in the reflection of her phone. She doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed it before, nor does she know how long it’s been there for, but now that she’s seen it, she can’t unsee it, especially not when she gets up and looks in the mirror to take a better look.

Her eyebrows are gone. Mostly. One’s half-gone, one’s about three quarters. Like a plucking job gone terribly wrong. And she managed to not notice until right now.

It makes sense. Her hair fell out, so the logical thing should be that her eyebrows disappear. Her eyelashes are gone too, most of them anyway. It’s normal, it’s obvious, and she should have worked out that this would happen back when she shaved her head. Maybe she should have went for the eyebrows too and plucked at her eyelashes. Just got it over with in one fell swoop.

She looks weird. Again, that’s news to no-one, but she does. She’d just started getting used to the being bald thing and the fact she looks like a skeleton now. But this is just something else on top of that and it feels like she’s taken a thousand steps back with it. All the way back to square one. And somehow it feels weirder. People notice losing weight and the beanie in place of her hair. People don’t notice her now having eyebrows until they get close enough and maybe even then it might escape their notice.

So maybe with that logic, she shouldn’t worry so much about it?

Nice try, she tells herself, flopping back down on the bed again. That turns out to be a mistake, as black spots dance before her eyes or a few seconds and the room seems to tilt and slide down to one side. It’s only after she squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head for a bit that it subsides. Clearly, she’s not quite shaken off that last round yet.

When she opens her eyes, she nearly jumps right off the bed. Cassie, that woman from the Cancer Fund, is standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging in a miniature ‘oh’ and her hand half extended towards her. Relief floods her face as she power walks towards her bed, apparently oblivious to the heart attack that she just gave her.

“Oh are you okay, hon?” she asks her.

“Yeah I’m okay,” she sighs, shifting just enough to be out of her reach. Something about her means Janis want those peach-painted nails nowhere near her. Cassie either manages to pick up on that or hangs back of her own accord, since she simply sits down beside her, her hands folded in her lap.

“You left the door open, and I was going to knock, but then I saw you-”

“I’m fine,” she says firmly, pressing her hands into the mattress. She takes a deep breath and manages to not scowl at her, which is an achievement by her standards given how awkward she feels and her overall discomfort around her. Never mind that she was kind of dealing with something before she walked in. “Um… what’s up?”

“I just wanted to check you’re all ready for this Saturday?” she asks. “For the photography project.”

“Yeah I know that’s Saturday.” In the very, very back of Janis’ mind she does think that maybe, a little bit, she’s being slightly too gruff here. Especially since the woman’s only trying to help out here. “Yeah, I’m all set. My friends are coming. Well, my friend and my girlfriend.”

“Oh that’s great,” she says. “So it starts at 12:30, but you might want to get your friends around a bit before that just to make sure everything’s going to be set up in time. And the photographer’s said that you can have a little play around with the camera first, just so you can see how it all works. Although something tells me you’d be a natural with one of those anyway.”

“Well I wouldn’t say a natural,” she says with a shrug. “Although I did do the photos for my school paper in freshman year.”

“See. I knew this would be right up your alley with all your artsy stuff,” she says and Janis actually laughs. Maybe this lady isn’t so bad. She’s kind of like Karen in some ways with all that perpetual sunshine and optimism, just a little smarter. Maybe that’s what Karen could do after school. Work with people like her. Cassie taps her leg with the folder she’s carrying, giving her a smile that scrunches up her face. “See you Saturday, bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“Aren’t I always, Cass?” she asks her.

“And your mom told me about all the fun you had at your school,” she adds on her way out. “I’m so glad you had such a nice time.” Janis nods at that, giving her a small wave as she leaves. She lets out a long breath and cranes her neck to look at the mirror again, sad to see that her eyebrows haven’t done a miraculous regrow since two minutes ago. They must have fallen before yesterday, she thinks. She has to wonder if anyone else noticed them. If Damian did after she tackle hugged him or if Cady did when she kissed them. Janis rubs the back of her neck as another unwelcome question creeps into her mind; did they simply not notice, or did they notice and just decide not to tell her?

It seems that today she’s the popular one, because Cassie isn’t the only one to call into her room. Because that night, when her last round is due, Doctor Wiley accompanies the nurse on duty that day. Her dad is over too, making her already small room feel even tighter.

“Good evening Janis,” Doctor Wiley agrees. “And Mr Sarkisian, nice to see you.”

“He’s here for the burgers and the burgers only,” Janis says dryly, smirking over in her dad’s direction. True enough, there is a plate on his lap with a half-eaten burger and the remainder of fries.

“Sometimes I just don’t want to cook for myself,” he replies, giving an over-exaggerated shrug. Janis chuckles; as does Wiley as the nurse hooks up her IV. Her eyes move anxiously towards her dad. She’s never been given the impression that this bothers him, but nine times out of then he comes over when she’s already been hooked up or is here way before it’s due. He rarely sees her getting hooked up and since it’s not a great experience for her, it’s not something she wants many people to see.

“So, Janis,” Wiley asks. “How are we feeling tonight?”

“Fantabulous,” she replies, throwing up a little reflexive peace sign. She always delights in the look of happy confusion on Wiley’s face when she pulls stuff like this. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, well I’m doing well,” he says. He goes to ask something else, but the nurse interrupts him.

“Okay, I’m going to put this in now, okay?” she asks.

“Just make sure you actually hit my vein, Lucy,” she says. Her dad laughs at that, but he’s the only one who does. She makes a mental note to tell him about every time she’s been made to feel like a human pin cushion. Luckily, Lucy is an old hand at this and she only has to bite her cheek and curl her toes in once.

You’d think that, over two months into this, she’d be used to stuff like this.

“Okay, that’s you for the next two hours, hon,” Lucy tells her. “You comfy enough?”

“Like a queen,” she says. Lucy nods and bids goodbye to her parents before heading off, surprisingly without Doctor Wiley. Something shifts in Janis, and she reaches out and pulls Purrlock towards her. Just in case.

“Would you mind I closed this door?” he asks. Janis holds Purrlock even closer.

“Um, no, of course not,” her mom says. “Is there something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Wiley says. He sits down on the opposite side of Janis’ bed. “Just that I’ve been talking with some of my colleagues, and we think now would be a good time for a bone marrow aspiration to monitor Janis’ progress.”

“Bone marrow aspiration?” Janis asks. “What’s that?”

“Just a small procedure to monitor how well this is going,” he explains. “We’d just be taking a sample of your bone marrow to check how well the treatment is going. At this stage, we’d like to think you’re well on your way to being finished, but we just want to make sure. And if the results are good, we can carry on as normal and finish up as planned?”

“Alternatively, they could be super, super good and I could be let out early,” she says.

“Well, we’ve never seen that happen,” he says. “But we do like to hope for miracles around here. So what do you say?”

Janis looks over at her parents, but it’s a no-brainer really.

“Sounds good,” she says. “When do we start?”

“Well, any point next week really,” he says. “We’d obviously like to get it done as quickly as possible so we can give you your results as soon as we can.” Janis nods, chewing the inside of her cheek as her stomach twists uneasily. This test thing is important, she can’t deny that. And if it’s good news, then she’ll know for sure she’s on her way out of here. Maybe she can start packing everything else up and taking it back home, so she can move out as fast as possible.

But the last time she got a test like this done, it didn’t work out so well. That’s the reason she’s here to begin with. A little black cloud had followed her around throughout that day, dominating everything. Like she knew what was going to happen. And while it may just be her brain playing tricks on her, she feels an unpleasant kind of déjà vu. If there’s one day she’d never want to live again, it’s that one.

“You okay kid?” her dad asks. Janis blinks, back in reality, finding her parents both looking at her expectantly and Doctor Wiley having already left while she was zoned out. She probably missed something there and he just assumed she was listening.

“I’m fine,” she says. Her hand rests on her arm, just over where the needle breaks through her skin. There’s a collection of little bruises on that arm now, alarmingly dark against her pale skin. She looks like a dalmatian there. “Hey Mom, can you get me a yogurt from downstairs? I’d go myself, but…” She gestures at her IV and the conversation ends there.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” she says, shooting up. “Be back in a second.” Her dad nods, squeezing her hand gently before she goes and Janis feels the need to avert her eyes. Not for the first time, she’s reminded she isn’t the only person affected by this.

“Hey dad?” she asks quietly. Her hand curls into the blanket, the question catching in her throat. “What do you do all week when we’re not home?”

It catches him off guard, it caught her off guard too. She may love her parents, and they may have been through more with them than other families have, but this kind of blunt and open earnestness is unusual for her. She gives him a shrug and picks at the blanket as he tries to find an answer.

“Well… I go to work,” he says. “I watch TV. I make dinner. I walk the puppy. I play with the puppy. I feed the puppy. I call people. I keep busy.” He hesitates for a moment before moving over to her bed, his dinner sitting abandoned on the chair. He pokes her side, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. “I’m okay, Janis. I keep myself entertained.”

“Do you… do you get lonely?” She doesn’t miss how her voice shakes as she asks the question and she suddenly feel so much younger than she is. “Y’know, without me and mom?”

There’s a long pause, and then he answers “Sometimes. A lot of the time, yeah.” His hand is on her shoulder now, where he would have run her fingers through her hair. “And that’s why I keep so busy. So time goes faster until I can see you again.”

She nods. She imagines him all alone in their big house, eating breakfast by himself, the kitchen being the only light on in the house. Maxie barking at him because there’s no-one else to bark at until she comes home. Watching TV and working and checking the clock. Eating dinner for one. She tries not to get too emotional when her dad is around, but the way the guilt comes is almost too much, rolling in waves over her. Even for someone as experienced in hiding as she is, it’s hard to suppress fully. It’s only because Damian has already chastised her for it that she doesn’t apologise for it, instead opting to squeeze his hand tightly.

“Oh, don’t tell Maxie I told you I get lonely,” he tells her, a serious edge to his voice. “I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate him.”

She lets out a laugh at that, like a little patch of blue in her grey mood.

“I won’t,” she tells him, equally as severe. “Besides, I think Max knows you love him really.”

                                                                                                    ******

The first thing Janis does on Saturday morning is down a cup of coffee. No exaggeration, the first word out of her mouth when she wakes up is ‘coffee’. She normally doesn’t like eating or drinking anything in the mornings, having learned from experience that the nausea means she’ll only puke it up later, but she’s decided to make an exception this once. She did the calculations the night before; if she gets a coffee and drinks the whole thing before her first round is due, then her body will absorb all the caffeine before she can vomit it back. And then she gets another one about an hour before Cady and Damian arrive, just to make sure she’s at her peak performance today. It’s a fool proof plan if she does say so herself, even if Cady had been a little sceptical of it when she told them. Still, they had said that if Janis was sure, they weren’t going to fight her on it.

“Besides, I’m sure your doctor would tell you if this was a bad plan,” they had said. “Right?”

“Right,” Janis had agreed, silently crossing her fingers behind her back. It wasn’t technically a lie, since Cady had never asked if she’d run her plan by a medical professional, but it still felt like one.

But it seems to be working, since she’s walking into her room with her second coffee in hand, stirring the five sugars she had dumped in it. It’s not her usual order, but since she can barely taste anything, she figured she may as well go crazy. And more sugar plus more caffeine just means more energy, right?

In addition to planning out her coffee equation last night, she also planned out her outfit. She had sent her dad a list via text of what to bring over on Wednesday so she could pick it out; meaning he had walked in with a confused look on his face and a grocery bag full of her old stuff that she hadn’t seen in months. At some point she had started leaving her nicer things at home and started investing in comfort over style. It felt a little odd, taking out all her old stuff. Like she was looking through old photos of herself.

She spent more time than she cares to admit deciding between outfits, swapping out garments and swapping them back again, mixing and matching until she found a combination that she deemed cute enough. Still comfortable, but something she would have worn normally before all this started. That’s what she’s after. Something normal.

She locks the door, just in case, and takes her pyjama top off, picking up the grey sweater she had chosen for today, decorated with a white thread skeleton on the front. Just as she pulls it on however, she comes to a depressing realisation. It’s too big on her. She doesn’t-won’t-look in the mirror, but she can tell from how lost she feels inside it, the fabric swamping her. The sleeves envelope her hands, her fingers poking out like icicles on a roof. She pulls off her leggings and grabs her tights, hoping that it looks better when it’s all together. She can’t believe she didn’t think of this. She’s said to her mom that a lot of her stuff doesn’t fit her anymore and she’s even been grown up enough to order sweats and t-shirts and pyjamas in smaller sizes. She and her mom have even had arguments over who’s paying for it. So far, winning has been split 50/50. So how did this slip her mind?

The tights don’t pose a problem, and neither do the shorts up until she has to close them. They hold up, for now, but barely hang onto her hips. And that’s when she’s standing still. She looks through the bag until she finds a belt for them, glad she at least had the foresight to ask for one. She threads it through and pulls it to the last hole, relieved to find it at least does something. They don’t exactly feel like they used to, but they’re at least secure enough for her not to worry about them.

She never thought she’d be glad for that.

She completes the look with a little shimmering black beanie, gifted from Gretchen (“I just saw it in the mall and thought ‘wow it’s so Janis’,” she had said), before checking herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know what she was expecting really. The outfit looks good-she looks good, if she may be permitted to say so. She can’t complain about the outfit, really. She chose well. It just doesn’t look like she thought it would. Where the sweater would have hugged her body before it hangs limply off her frame. Tucking it into the shorts is only a slight improvement. She hadn’t thought about how wearing the shorts shows off how thin her legs are now, nor how much room she has inn. She looks like a kid playing dress-up. They don’t look like her clothes. Nor do they look like they belong on her body.

She pulls her eyes away from the mirror, swallows past the lump in her throat and picks up her phone. According to Cady’s text, she and Damian are five minutes away, her point proven by a picture she sends of the two of them cheesing at the camera while riding the bus. That brings a smile to Janis’ face despite her little wobble, and she slips the phone into her pocket and grabs her bag before heading out into the foyer, following the sound of echoing voices and the occasional flash of light following a camera shutter.

She isn’t the only one who got dressed up for this occasion, she sees. The pyjamas are all put away for today, her friends putting on what she assumes is their finest. They didn’t even plan this, but for some things they all go into a hivemind here. The place is packed and not just with patients; friends and family have come around for this. She recognises a few moms and dads and waves accordingly, but the friends are all foreign to her. Melissa throws her head back and laughs, talking to a dark haired boy Janis guesses is from her school. Janis waves and while she doesn’t get one back, she’s okay with it.

She finds Maddie in the crowd too, a camera around her neck and surrounded by what she can only describe as a group of ‘mini-Maddies’. They all look different, but all have the same toothy grin and wide eyes, all dimples in cheeks and limbs a little too long for their bodies. When Maddie tries to wave them over to a wall, they all move as one big flock of teenage girls, and Janis has to laugh. They’re adorable at that age, so she’s heard.

“Oh, hello!” A voice to her right grabs her attention and admittedly makes her jump a little bit. When she turns around there’s a young-ish guy in a leather jacket, holding a professional looking camera in his hand, and there’s no prizes for guessing where he’s from. “You’re one of the kids right?”

“Nah I just really like hanging out here,” she says flatly, only one corner of her mouth turned up. He gets the sarcasm, thankfully, and even laughs at it, extending his hand.

“I’m Sebastian.”

“Janis,” she tells him, shaking his hand.

“Okay, well I see you haven’t been given a camera,” he tells her. “So here.” The camera he had is deposited into her hands and despite her own experience with photography, she’s surprised at the weight.

“Oh, okay,” is her response, her body suddenly a lot less stable with such an expensive piece of equipment. “Uh, I’m still waiting on my friends to show up…” Her phone buzzes in her pocket, making her heart almost drop to the floor. She can’t take any shocks, not when she’s holding something that, again, looks like it costs her college tuition. “And that’s probably them now.”

“Okay, fantastic!” Sebastian says. “So here, I’ll just put your name on this here, and then you and your friends can go and take all the pictures you like. Did you bring any props?”

“All in here,” she says. She goes to pat the bag before thinking better of it and nods at it instead. “I wouldn’t call them props really. Just bits and pieces of stuff from my room. My paintbrushes, a flag, my stuffed animals.” She gives a shrug. “I’m only sad I couldn’t bring my dog with me too.”

“Trust me, you are not alone,” he says. “Anyway I’ll leave you to it… and I assume these are your friends?”

Janis blinks and turns around, finding Cady rushing up to her side, Damian just behind.

“Hey,” Cady greets, about to go for a hug.

“Woah, woah, I am holding possibly the most expensive piece of equipment in this hospital right now,” Janis says. She goes for a little half-hug instead, and it works just as well.

“Sorry,” Cady says. “Just excited. This actually seems really cool.”

“Really, really cool,” Damian chimes in. “They’ve got a proper modelling shoot going on over there.” Another flash goes off just as he tells them, and Janis can vaguely make out a girl standing pouting against a wall.

“Well you know what we’re like in here,” Janis says. “Any chance we have to get dolled up and pretty, we jump for it.”

“There’s a Zodiac joke in there but I’m not sure if it’s offensive or not to make it.”

“Okay, you joke about that,” Janis jokes. “But I’ve met three people in this ward alone who are actually Cancers! Crazy right?”

“Sure sounds it,” Cady says before clasping their hands together, looking around the room expectantly. “So… do you have a plan of action here?”

“I do indeed, Caddy.” She fiddles with the camera for a second before finding the strap and throwing it around her neck, leaving her other hand free to hold out to Cady. She takes it with a grin. “Let’s go my little poppets.”

She pulls them into a corner, away from the bigger action, and kneels down on the floor, the other two following suit.

“Okay so I kind of have this thing planned out,” she explains. “This whole thing is about showing the ‘person behind the cancer’, right? Like you know, show how we’re still… people. Individuals, right?”

“Noble cause,” Damian says as Janis opens her bag. Realisation dawns on his face as she does so.

“So I just brought a bunch of stuff that’s important to me,” she finishes.

“Do we count as stuff that’s important to you?” Cady teases, already knowing the answer.

“You two are my most important stuff,” she says, dropping a kiss onto Cady’s nose. She looks between the two of them, awkwardness slowly building up in her. “So I kind of wanted some photos of me like… drawing and stuff. You know, what I’d normally do.” She shrugs, a timid grin tugging on her lips. “And you two can play photographer for this part.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Damian says.

“I also want photos with you two,” she adds. “A lot of pictures with you two. They said… like I’m not sure exactly but they said that they’d put up some of everyone’s work on the walls but we’d also get to keep all our own ones in this little book thing they’ll make for us. I don’t know, I’ve probably explained this to you before.”

“You did, sort of,” Cady says, tucking her hair behind her ears and straightening her shoulders. “Okay, so why don’t we start with some shots of you drawing? It’s sort of you in your natural habitat after all.” She looks over at Damian, excitement sparking in her eyes. “Uh… Damian? Do you mind if I use the camera first?”

“Oh, does someone like the big shiny toy?” Janis teases.

“Do I mind?” Damian says at the exact same time. “Young child, you take as many photos as you want.” Janis hands the camera off to Cady, her heart admittedly picking up a little as she does so. “Meanwhile, I want to play director.”

“Director?” Janis echoes, looking over at an equally confused Cady.

“Yes, director,” he says. “Well you can’t expect to model yourself do you?”

“Jerk,” she says, grinning even so. She sits up and shakes her head, tossing imaginary hair over her shoulders. “Okay genius. Sculpt me.”

That’s all the incentive Damian needs. He climbs over to her as she gets her sketchbook and pencils out of her bag. She tries not to let him see how much emptier her book is compared to last year’s. If he does notice he doesn’t show it even as she opens on a half-finished drawing. He pokes at her and turns her head as she fights off her laughter, her shoulders shaking with the effort.

“This lighting is terrible,” he declares.

“What lighting?” she asks, gesturing to the window. “The sun?”

“Yes. The sun is terrible. Fuck the sun.”

“I remember the myth of Icarus slightly differently to you it seems,” Janis says.

“Okay, okay, now just move that pretty little head of yours down by a millimetre,” he says. “And… perfection. All yours Cady.”

Cady mumbles something that sounds like ‘finally’ before the flash goes off in Janis’ vision.

“You know your way around that thing,” Janis comments when she’s sure they’ve finished. Cady shrugs, a proud grin on her face.

“Back in Kenya I took some photos of the animals,” she explains. “Research purposes, you know?”

“Indeed. So do I look good here?” she asks.

“See for yourself.” Cady fiddles with it for a bit and turns it towards her. Janis’ breath hitches when she sees it. She picked a good one, and Damian did a good job too; she sits with her book balanced between her knees, her fingers fiddling with the pencil. The light that Damian hated so badly drapes across her, chasing away the pale complexion she’s become used to. She has this faraway look about her, lost in her artwork, just the way she loves to be.

“Oh I do look good,” she says.

“Do you want a moment alone with the camera?” Damian asks, an eyebrow raised. She gives him a tiny flip off before pulling herself up, her muscles groaning just slightly. At least everything is sitting still for her today. That coffee she took must have been better than she thought.  They take a couple more of her posing, looking wistfully out the window, Purrlock sitting on her lap, throwing peace signs up at the camera.

“Okay, I know what I want to shoot next.” There’s a little bit of a buzz about her as she pulls her next thing out of her bag; her pride flag. She still remembers the day she got it; she was 14 and practically shoved it across the counter of the little store in New York, the unplanned purchase that turned into her most cherished possession. She wraps it around herself now, the flimsy, thin fabric wrapping around her like a trusted blanket and grins at them.

“I love it,” Damian says as Cady snaps a picture of her again and again, her trying out a million different poses, being silly, being serious, trying and failing to be sexy, hoisting it in the air like a flag. When she asked about it, Cassie had told her to bring props that meant something to her, that showed who she really is inside. Of course her flag was one of the first things that came to mind.

“Hey, Caddy,” she says when the flashing subsides for a moment. “You brought yours too, right?”

“Yeah,” they reply. “I just brought the little one, though I don’t really get it…. Oh.” Realisation dawns on Cady’s face, lighting it up from the inside out. Janis opens her arms to her, laughing as she struggles to pull her own flag out of her backpack. After a bit of deliberating, she hangs the bag and the camera to Damian, who swings the former up on his shoulder, and rushes over to Janis, the colours of her bi flag meshing into a blur. When she crashes into Janis’ body, her head smacking into her chin and her waist, that’s when Damian decides to take the picture.

“Hey!” she snaps. “No fair, we weren’t ready!”

“But you looked so cute!” he squeaks, rolling his eyes when Janis gives him a pointed look. “Okay, okay, fine. Get into poses you little lovebirds.”

Cady’s head settles on her shoulder, her flag circling the both of them as she puts her arm around them, her cheek coming to rest against her hair. Cady’s free hand circles around her waist and slides into her pocket, her touch warm against her skin. Despite Damian’s wording, it doesn’t feel like a pose. It feels so, so natural, just like breathing.

She presses her lips to Cady’s head and feels her smiling against her just as the camera goes off again.

“God you two are so cute,” Damian sighs. She swears she sees his eyes misting over, overly sentimental monster that he is. Even if he tries to shake it off and pretend to be the tough guy. “It reminds me that I’m single and lonely.”

“And ready to mingle!” Janis reminds him. Cady’s hand trails off her waist and takes her hand, fingers laced together, and Janis swings their hands between them. “Okay I have one more idea… and I need the two of you in it.”

“Okay, then who’s taking the picture?” Damian asks, his eyes scanning the room for someone, as if they’ll come rushing over to help them. And around here that is often the case, but not today, what with all the nurses enjoying their momentary break. Janis shakes her head instead, a gleam in her eye.

“We are,” she says simply before grabbing Damian’s hand and pulling him closer. “Old school style.”

Getting into position for this isn’t easy, especially not with the two of them being so much taller than Cady and Janis feeling extra cautious around the camera. Bubbly lover of life that she is, Cady initially tires jumping on Damian, and he actually does manage hold her up, even if they do wobble a little. The two laugh at themselves and then each other, the sound so light and musical that it makes Janis’ heart swell. She snaps a quick photo of them, remembering to turn the flash off. It might not have been planned, but when she looks at it, a moment frozen just for her, she’s so glad she caught it.

“Hey Janis come over here!” Damian calls, Cady’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Or are you just going to sit there and look at yourself all day?”

“I’m coming, jerk,” she sighs, running over and kneeling beside him. Cady’s hand comes and rests on the back of her neck; she guesses it’s equal parts affection and trying to keep herself steady. Janis stretches her arm out as far as she can, the screen turned so they can see their themselves, laughing and helpless, fighting for a spot in the frame. Their backs slowly start to hurt, their cheeks aching from so much smiling.

“Have you got this?” Cady asks. “It’s fine if you don’t, I’m comfortable up here.”

“Speak for yourself you little twerp,” a red-faced Damian gasps.

“Okay, okay, okay there we are!” Janis says, tapping the floor in excitement when she sees all three of their faces in the frame. “Okay we only have this for a millisecond so say cheese you two! Three, two, one!”

After the shutter goes off they collapse on the floor, the sound of their laughter echoing off the polished walls. Nurses run over to help them, no doubt on alert seeing one of theirs on the floor seemingly suffocating, and the worst part is none of them can catch their breath long enough to tell them that they’re okay. All it takes is one to look at another and their progress in fixing themselves is gone; they’re one again reduced to cackling messes on the foyer floor.

God, Janis thinks as she sits up, pulling Cady into a sitting position beside her and hugging her close. What would she do without these two?

Later that evening, Damian is draped across her bed, flicking through her mom’s magazine. The three of them had hung out as much as they could when they had finished up, but Cady had been pulled out of it by her phone reminding her of another tutoring session.

“I’m sorry,” she had sighed. “It’s not normally on today, but they were sick so we had to reschedule. I should have moved it earlier, I didn’t think-”

“Nuh-uh, Heron,” Janis told her, tapping her nose. “Don’t you go apologising for your magnificent service to the North Shore community.” Cady scrunches up her face at that. “Besides, you’re probably bringing the average of the entire school up and I don’t want Mrs Norbury coming for me when her classes start failing again.”

“She never would,” she said. They paused for a moment, stuck in a half-embrace, until Damian took the hint and turned his attention to the outside of Janis window. Satisfied, Cady stood up on her tiptoes and pressed their lips to Janis’ in a sweet kiss. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“I had hoped so,” she murmured against her, sneaking another peck. She rubbed her nose against Cady’s, debating whether or not she should convince her to stay. Eventually she let her go, squeezing her hand one more time and promising to text her tomorrow before she left.

And now she’s here, munching on a cereal bar and scribbling in the corner of her sketchbook. All day, but especially since Cady left, her new development had hung around her mind, never really leaving and letting her have peace. The mere idea of not telling Damian just doesn’t sit right with her at all. Not just because he’d know if she kept something from him anyway. He’s given up so much because of this, all for her.

The question is how does she tell him? It’s not like it’s a ‘sit down and take a deep breath’ kind of moment, but it’s not something she wants to brush off either. It’s important, and she’d be stupid not to recognise that. After pondering on it, she finds just being blunt seems to be the best approach, so she taps his shoulder, opens her mouth and-

“So I have a thing next week.”

Wow she thinks. That went well. She guesses she put way too much faith in her communication abilities there.

“A thing?” he asks, turning to look at her. “What kind of thing?”

“It’s…” She clears her throat. “It’s a bone marrow aspiration.”

“Oh.” He turns around to face her then, his eyes wide with concern as he nods seriously. She lets out a snort in response, her demeanour the opposite of his.

“You have no clue what that is, do you?”

“I know what bone marrow is,” he replies. He picks at his nails, his jaw setting. “And I guess it’s about you. Your cancer, I mean.”

“It’s to see how well I’ve progressed since getting in here,” she tells him, her voice more quiet than she thought it would be. She shrugs weakly as he takes it in, growing only slightly worried at how quiet he is. “Just to check everything’s working like it should.”

“And are you…” He waves his hand in the air. “Confident about it?”

The question takes her by surprise. She had never really thought about it as a question of confidence. Confidence is for her the things she has control over; her friendships, her art, her future. Not for this.

“It’s not really up to me, is it?” she says with a shrug. “I mean I’ve been doing everything I should be doing. Guess all we can do right now is hope.” Damian nods again, his hands clasped in his lap almost like he’s praying. Silence stretches out between them, marked only by the ticking of the clock, and it’s unsettling. They’ve had their fair share of heart-to-hearts, but they’ve always ended with jokes and smiles, holding hands and resting on each other, one holding the other up. Now he’s sitting away from her, his eyes unreadable. “Damian?” asks after a long while.

“You’ll be fine.” He looks up then with a fierce determination in his eyes, his voice stronger than she’s ever heard it. Not even onstage has she ever seen him like this. “You will be.”

She takes a deep breath. That’s what everyone tells her; her doctors, her parents. It’s what she tells herself, really. That she’s been doing everything right, and with the way this medicine is kicking her ass, it has to be working. And she wants to believe that she’ll be fine, that everything will be as it should be. But that’s what she thought the first time around too. If there’s one thing she’s learned by now, it’s to not take things for granted.

And it hurts seeing him like this. It hurts seeing him believe something so much when she can’t guarantee it. She remembers clear as day the first time she told him, the two of them alone in her bedroom, how it tore at her heart to tell him. How much it had crushed him. How does she stop that from happening again?

She shuffles towards him, her heart crawling up her mouth, and takes his hand, finding it as cold and clammy as her own is.

“Damian,” she whispers. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

It’s only when she sniffles she realises she’s started crying.

“I think this will be okay,” she tells him. “I think when I go in and I do that test, I think those results will say I’m doing good. That’s what the doctor thinks.” She swallows past the lump in her throat. “But if it’s not-”

“Janis-”

“Can you just listen to me?” she asks. When he closes his mouth, lips pressed into a thin line, she continues. “But if it isn’t, I need you to promise me you’ll be okay with it. That you aren’t going to worry about me every day. That you’re going to go ahead and live.” She wipes at her face. “Just be okay for me. Promise me that.”

“You know I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be okay when you’re okay.”

“No.” She shifts onto her knees, looking him right in the eye. “Listen to me, Damian. You need to promise that whatever happens to me, you aren’t going to fall apart.” His hand comes up and he laces their fingers together. “I don’t know what I’d do if I knew you weren’t okay and it was because of me.” She pokes his cheek and wipes his tears off his face. “So just promise me that… in the unlikely event that it’s not what we want to hear… you won’t fall apart.”

It feels like a lifetime before he nods too, his own eyes wet and glistening under the lights. He then pulls her into a wordless hug, her fragile body held in his strong arms, his hand running up and down her back. She lets out a shuddering breath and it feels like weeks’ worth of frustration and loneliness and downright misery is let out as well, all as she melts into his arms.

“God you really know how to kill a mood, don’t you, Sarkisian?” he whispers and she finally laughs. “Here, I got you something.”

She pulls away from him just enough for him to reach into his pocket and produce a candy bar packed in a silver wrapper, one she vaguely recognises but can’t place.

“Courtesy of Maisie,” he says. She lifts it carefully, treating it with the utmost care. “From her Halloween haul. You should be real grateful; she doesn’t give that up lightly.”

“I am,” she says, a slight laugh in her voice. “Tell her that for me, okay?” He nods as she pulls it out of the wrapper and breaks it in half, holding one out to him. She raises an eyebrow when he shakes his head. “Come on, you deserve it too.” She looks up at his head, hidden under a rainbow coloured beanie. “You said I wasn’t going through this alone. And that includes the good parts too.”

He rolls his eyes but takes it all the same, a smile on his face that’s as soft as his soul is. She turns so that they sit hip to hip and her head can rest on his shoulder, their hands clasped between them, eating in companionable silence, sharing the occasional smile.

It’s not that she isn’t worried, she is. That foreboding feeling won’t leave her alone and she’s given up on trying. It’s just that when she’s sitting here with him holding his hand, the black cloud doesn’t seem as close as it was.

[bellemorte180]

Wanderlust Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Klaus would not say he was a morning person but given the fact that he was a light sleeper, waking up early had become a habit. It was a side effect of years traveling between towns all across the United States and never being able to sleep fully throughout the night. Klaus rose before Marcel and was showered and dressed by the time his partner stumbled from his bedsheets. To be fair, it wasn’t even dawn but they both knew that they had a long day ahead of them.

Klaus drank his morning coffee while scrolling through his emails. He received one from their supervisor, Vincent Griffith, that a forensic team would meet them at the location site at six-thirty in the morning. He was sending Maddox and Greta along with several other agents, which pleased Klaus. There were few people within the bureau that Klaus actually could stand and those two were of the chosen few; which was probably why Vincent chose to send them.

Marcel stumbled from the bathroom, blurry eyed and with a yawn that told Klaus that he would be the one driving. Klaus grabbed a pair of boots and slid them over his jeans. He grabbed a simple black coat to toss over his Henley. While it was in the middle of June, the mornings still always had a slight chill to them. Klaus quickly filled up two Styrofoam cups with bad coffee and handed one to Marcel. The other agent grunted his thanks while Klaus just chuckled.

“I want donuts.” Marcel muttered in a sleepy tone and Klaus nodded. He chuckled as he picked up the keys to one of the SUV’s and had to all but drag his partner out the door. They quietly drove through town and Klaus parked in one of the many empty spaces near the square. Marcel was scrolling through his emails on his phone; clearly not wanting to move from his seat just yet. Klaus rolled his eyes and crawled out of the SUV and walked up to the small bakery in the center of town.

The bakery front was painted a deep green and was located between what appeared to be a flower shop and a small boutique. The store front gave Klaus old Southern vibes that he typically found in the south. The sign that hung above the store read Bennet’s Bakery and he briefly remembered Liz telling him that Bonnie owned the bakery in town. The sign indicated that it was closed but he could see Bonnie moving in the shop, stalking up the days baked good. Klaus knocked lightly on the door, causing Bonnie to look up. Seeing that it was Klaus, Bonnie moved around the large iron cart that held what Klaus thought to be bagels and walked to the door. She turned the lock and stuck her head out to greet him.

“I apologize for barging in. I know you’re not open, but I was hoping for a small favor.” Klaus asked and Bonnie nodded at him. He did his best to give her an innocent expression, hoping that whatever Caroline had divulged the night before bought him some points in the good column. “My partner and I have a long hike ahead of us. I was hoping to purchase some donuts?”

“Sure, come in.” She stepped aside and allowed Klaus to walk through. Much like the outside, the bakery had a very rustic feel to it. It was small but was filled with the smells of baked goods, coffee and sugar. There was a glass case near the register filled with brownies, scones and donuts. The far wall was littered with an assortment of bagels while there was a cooler that had a bunch of different types of cakes. The flooring was made of hard wood and the walls a soft yellow that made Klaus feel welcomed. “How many?”

“Just a couple, please.” Klaus looked around the bakery again as Bonnie grabbed a small box and put it together. “Are you often here this early?” Klaus asked, trying for small talk, and Bonnie gave a scowl of annoyance. It wasn’t directed at Klaus, but he could tell that Bonnie was not pleased about having to be at work that early in the morning.

“Sometimes. Today I wasn’t supposed to be here but Anna, my baker, decided to call last night and tell me that she can’t come in and since the bread need to be proofed before baking and I’m the owner; here I am.” Bonnie replied. “Despite the fact that I told Anna I was going to need help this week because I wanted to be there with Caroline, but I can’t completely ignore my shop.”

“Of course not. You need to continue with your life, and I know Caroline would not want you to put everything on hold for her.” Bonnie turned and looked at Klaus curiously. She bit her lip as though she wanted to ask something but was debating on whether or not she should get involved. “How was she this morning?”

“Fine. She was still asleep.” Klaus nodded and Bonnie smirked. “Although given the fact that I crushed up a sleeping pill and put it in her food, that could explain why.” Klaus snorted at that and actually laughed out loud.

“Did you just admit to drugging your friend to a federal agent?”

“Liz told me to do it.” Bonnie replied quickly, appearing completely unashamed by her actions. In truth, Klaus probably would have done the same thing; especially since it was clear that Caroline was too stubborn to take the pills herself. However, he never would have admitted it out loud to someone who could, in theory, press criminal charges against her. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“Should I?” Klaus replied cheekily at Bonnie’s grin. They both knew that he wouldn’t. He had far more important things to focus on than Bonnie’s small confession. Bonnie finished boxing up the donuts and handed them to Klaus. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.” Bonnie told him with a kind voice. “The only payment I ask is that you find this bastard who hurt Caroline and killed those women. I spent the last few days holding my best friend because of the trauma she suffered. I want this asshole found.”

“You have my word that I will do my best to find him.” Klaus took the pink box from Bonnie and gave her a soft smile. “Thank you for the donuts. My partner will be very appreciative. He is not exactly the most pleasant person in the mornings. Sleeps like a rock and would continue to do so if it was not for me waking him up.” Bonnie nodded and Klaus turned toward the doors and left the bakery. When he climbed back into the SUV, handing the box of donuts to Marcel, he could see that his partner was more awake.

“Confirmation of Stefan Salvatore’s alibi came back. He was in Chicago during Caroline’s abduction. So, looks like the Salvatore brothers are in the clear.” Marcel handed over his phone for Klaus to read the email that was sent from Slater, their technical support, at their field office and who was responsible for contacting Stefan’s alibi. “I also asked Slater to run background checks on all the citizens of Mystic Falls. He said it would take a bit, but he will get it done.”

“Good thinking.” Klaus replied as he turned the SUV on. The pair drove through the town while Marcel continued to drink his now cold coffee; Klaus cursing himself for not stopping and picking up more coffee on the way. Once he drove just outside the town’s boundaries, Klaus saw two similar vehicles to theirs’ parked on the side of the road. Knowing that it was the forensic team and additional agents, Klaus pulled up beside them.

Klaus and Marcel climbed out of the vehicle and walked over to the agents who were at the back of their SUV. Maddox was a bulky man of few words. Klaus had worked well with him over the years, mainly because Maddox did not speak to many people. He did his job, made his reports and never caused a fuss. Klaus respected that. Greta, on the other hand, was hardly silent. She was flirty and had a devious side that made Klaus’s toes curl. If she wasn’t the best forensic scientist the FBI had, he would have refused to work with her long ago. While Klaus made it clear that he did not like Greta, he dealt with her, nonetheless. Klaus nodded to the other agents but did not bother introducing himself, only recognizing a few, instead allowing Marcel to do it for him.

Once the agents were ready, they made their way into the woods. Klaus and Marcel mapped out the way Caroline had taken them through the woods the night before. It was not necessarily a difficult walk, a straight shot, but neither of the agents felt the desire to get lost in the woods. The placement of the Lockwood tunnels was convenient. It was not too difficult to find if one knew where they were going, but deep enough in the woods that it would be rare for someone to simply stumble across them unless they were trying to find something. Given that fact that the entrance was well hidden; Klaus could understand why the deputies did not find it when they conducted their search party; since they were looking for a body and not underground tunnels.

The woods had an eerie feel to them in the early morning. As a child, Klaus lived near rolling hills in a small English town that was also surrounded by woods. There was almost a mystical feel to it and the sun slowly began to peek through the trees. Morning dew was prevalent in the air and the smell of dirt and bark assaulted his senses. The way the shadows hung and moved with the progressing morning made Klaus unnerved. He supposed that his destination was what was causing the discomfort and not the woods themselves but the ball that was forming in the pit of his stomach did not help matters.

Slowly, they approached the Lockwood tunnels and Klaus could feel the dread come over him. He was thankful Marcel was there because no matter how hard he tried to remain objective, he knew that he was going to see Caroline being held down there. He knew the extent of her injuries. He knew what she looked like the day she walked into the police station after breaking her own wrist to get free. Klaus knew how the killer murdered his victims and he also knew what he did to the bodies once became nothing more than a corpse.

It was moments like this, when he started down at that dirt covered stone steps that made him really hate his job.

“Are you ready for this?” Marcel asked Klaus, stirring him from his musings. Klaus nodded to his partner and allowed him to go down the steps first. Maddox put down his thick black bag and pulled out a couple of flashlights. Klaus took one, thanking Maddox who only grunted in response. He pulled out a pair of purple elastic gloves, put them on and followed Marcel down the stairs; leaving at least three agents at the top, ensuring that no one attempted to lock either Klaus or Marcel inside.

The first thing Klaus noticed was an old, rotted wooden door that had been pushed open. Holding the flashlight up to the door, Klaus could see scratch marks on the side of the wood, and he remembered Caroline’s words from the day before about how she had to dig herself out. He could picture her clawing at the wood; the imagine caused bile to rise in Klaus’s throat. Beside him, a flash went off and Greta was holding a camera up, capturing the imagine of the scratch marks.

Klaus turned towards Marcel and he could see the same grim look on his face that Klaus had. They both were thinking the same thing, picturing Caroline clawing her way to freedom. Instead of dwelling on the marks, they continued making their way down the dark tunnel, hearing Greta’s camera clicking behind them. Klaus lifted the flashlight up high enough to cast a shadow down the tunnel. There was no light in the tunnels at all but instead a terrifying darkness that consumed him; Klaus could feel the evil rolling off the stone walls. An agent behind Klaus, pulled out his flashlight, adding light and made navigating the tunnel easier.

Nothing remarkable could be seen as they got further down the tunnel. The walls were made of stone and dirt; having been crafted by man two hundred or so years prior. It wasn’t too long of a walk; the sound of Greta’s camera keeping them company as they went. At the end of the tunnel there was a wooden door that appeared so old, Klaus wondered if touching it would cause it to fall off its hinges. Slowly, Klaus pushed the door aside in order to pass through.

Inside was what appeared to be a circle room; almost like a man-made cave. Unlike the tunnel, there were camping lanterns stationed around the cellar and once Klaus turned them on, a soft light lit up the cellar. Klaus remembered Caroline’s words from the previous night and how these tunnels were used to hold slaves during the civil war. On the far end of the room, there was a cell. Iron bars stood from floor to ceiling and a cell door that was wide open; the lock on the door broken.

Stepping inside the cell, Klaus felt rage begin to linger under his skin. The cell was small but had enough room to cram a small bed that was pressed against the stone wall. It had a couple grey blankets, a few pillows, and sheets that where in a desperate need of cleaning. There was a battery-operated heater located near the bed and Klaus bent down to look at it. He clicked it on for a second before turning it off again once he realized that it was operational. He stood to his full height and looked over to the bed again. A small lantern, similar to the one he had turned on outside the cell, was perched at the end of his bed.

Klaus’s imagination went wild. He could see Caroline curled up on that bed so clearly; her back pressed against the stone while her left hand was cuffed to the bars at where located to the head of the bed. He reached out lightly and touched the bars. Clipped to the bars was a set of metal handcuff; still locked together. Sitting down upon the bed, Klaus handled the cuffs and noticed that there was still dried blood on the metal; Caroline’s blood from when she broke her own wrist to be free of her prison. Klaus could almost hear the breaking of her bones as he sat there. He looked over his shoulder, placing the cuff back on the pillow, and saw etchings on the stone wall.

Names. Each of their names were carved into the stone wall. The writing was different, telling Klaus that it was not the killer who carved the names. Klaus moved the pillows around lightly and saw a series of rocks on the ground; anyone of them could have been used to carve the names. He looked back to the names and read each one of them. Vicki. April. Andi. Cami. But the last words were not Caroline’s name. Klaus’s lips twitched upward humorlessly. Caroline was not going to add her name to that list, instead tell her killer exactly how she felt.

Fuck you.

“Klaus. Come look at this.” Marcel’s voice chimed through the cell door; causing the man in question to snap out of his daze. Klaus stood from the bed and walked out of the cell; Greta stepping inside, snapping pictures of everything inside. Marcel was standing by what appeared to be a large, old wooden barrel, beside it on the ground was a carboard box; filled with unpackaged syringes. “There is at least a couple dozen syringes here. However, all the Dilaudid is missing. I think he used the barrel to prep the Dilaudid before going into the cell to injecting it.”

“All the Dilaudid is gone? Even empty bottles?”

“Yes.” Marcel looked at him. “What are you thinking?”

“He came back here.” Klaus replied, looking around the man-made cave. In the corner was a wooden chair and a bucket. On the chair was a tray and plates that Klaus assumed he used to feed his victims. “He knew Caroline got out and came back here to get the bottles of Dilaudid. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to take everything, it would draw to much attention; especially since we were in town. He took what evidence as most important.”

“Why the Dilaudid though?” Marcel mused. “Perhaps it can be traced? We ruled out a medical professional because he was blowing the veins when he injected the medication. But if the Dilaudid can be traced back to a specific source, then that means he must have got it from someone in the field? Do you think he has a partner?”

“No.” Klaus shook his head. “Caroline only ever saw one man. Never two. But I think you’re right. Someone obtained the Dilaudid for him. Which means that someone in this town knows who the killer is. If we can find out who obtained the Dilaudid for him and get them to crack; we might have him.” Klaus’s fingers balled into a fist. “Greta!”

“Yes?”

“Make sure everything is bagged and collected. I want nothing left behind. Take everything back to D.C with you.” Greta nodded, and began taking photos of the boxes of syringes. He turned to one of the agents who followed them down into the cellar. “Help her and make sure nothing is uncounted for.” Klaus all but ran out of the cellar, Marcel trailing behind him. “I think it is time we spoke to Tyler Lockwood.”

The anger that was pulsing around him made the hike back to their SUV pass by quickly. Marcel said nothing, knowing that his partner needed to cool off. It wasn’t the first time that he had seen him close to losing his temper and was surprised that Klaus was not punching his fist into a tree or tossing rocks into the distance. There were always moments in each case they worked that Klaus just couldn’t control the rage that overtook him; only out matched but his desire to take monsters like these down and make them pay for the suffering they caused. When Klaus climbed into the SUV, slamming the door behind him. He drove for a few minutes before speaking again.

“What do we know about Tyler Lockwood?”

“His father was the Mayor until he died a few years ago from a sudden brain aneurism. His mother was elected shortly after that.” Marcel replied, raising an eyebrow at the clear nepotism by the towns people. “Tyler himself went to college at Whitmore for political science. Shocker there. Up until a year ago he was engaged to Caroline Forbes. She kicked him out and he has been living back with his mother since.”

“Job?”

“Assistant city manager.” Marcel snorted and Klaus couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped his lips. “Clearly he works for his mother with anticipation that one day he will run for Mayor. His social media shows that he is in a new relationship with a woman named Olivia Parker.” Marcel showed him his phone and a woman with curly blonde hair and soft grey eyes peered through the screen. “Seems that he has a thing for blondes.”

“Sounds like a boy who has never worked for a single thing in his life.” Klaus replied, as he pulled up to the Lockwood manor. While it was not as impressive as the Salvatore Boardinghouse, the manor still had old southern beauty to it. It was made of deep red brick with a large white front door and tall white pillars lining the front of the house. There were several cars in the front drive and Klaus parked the SUV in line with the other vehicles.

“Let me guess, still not as impressive as the Mikaelson Manor back in jolly old England?” Marcel teased and Klaus just rolled his eyes, not willing to reply; an action that Marcel only took as confirmation to his theory. His small laughter only had Klaus smiling, something they both knew eased the tension he was feeling.

The two agents climbed the brick stairway and knocked on the front door, noticing that at least this house did not have an obnoxious knocker on the front. Marcel muttered that it was such pity just in time for a tall, middle aged woman to answer the door. She had shoulder length brown hair with streaks of blonde running through it. She wore a tight pencil skirt and a dark blue blouse; lined with a set of pearls that probably cost more than Klaus’s monthly salary. She looked everything like a politician’s wife turned politician herself.

“Can I help you?”

“Mayor Carol Lockwood?” Marcel asked and she nodded. “I’m Agent Marcel Gerard and this is my partner Agent Klaus Mikaelson. Is Tyler home? We were hoping to have a word with him.”

“He is here but we have company. Would it be possible for you to speak with him later?” Carol asked and the two agents just looked at her with disbelieving eyes. While they had been met with hostility and flat out refusal at their request on almost every case, they had never been asked to leave and return at a later date because of company. It was the south, but hospitality only went so far.

“No.” Klaus replied simply and pulled out the warrant from his jacket pocket. He handed her the piece of paper and stepped over the threshold, not caring if he brushed her shoulder as he went. The foyer was large and had high ceilings, a large staircase and marble flooring.

“Excuse me? What are you doing?!”

“Mom? What is going on?” A voice chimed in from the large archway in the foyer. Tyler Lockwood looked exactly as he did the day at the hospital when he caused a scene outside Caroline’s hospital room. He was dressed in slacks and a white button down that made Klaus wonder if he dressed himself or if his mother picked out his clothes. In the back of Klaus’s mind, he knew he was being unfair but his bitterness at the knowledge that he hurt Caroline overshadowed that. Not only that, but it was clear to Klaus that Tyler was still be holding onto his mother’s coat strings. “Agents, what can we do for you?”

“We would like a word Mr. Lockwood, if you wouldn’t mind.” Klaus replied in a tone that he had no options but to speak with them. Tyler eyed him from head to toe, sizing him up as though he was realizing that he was not the alpha male in the room. He could see that he wanted to refuse; to tell Klaus no but couldn’t. Klaus could see the consequences flashing behind his brown eyes and the memory of Klaus having Tyler escorted from the hospital still fresh in his mind. Klaus could make his life very difficult and while his mother was the mayor of a small town in Virginia, Klaus had the FBI behind him.

“Of course. Follow me.”

“Tyler. The guests!” Carole hissed harshly to her son. Marcel strolled through the threshold and took the warrant that was still clutched in her hands from her and ignored her.

“It will be fine, Mom. You go and sit with them. I’ll talk with the agents.” Tyler responded and jerked his head at the agents to follow him. Klaus and Marcel easily followed Tyler towards the back of the house, passing a large dining area in the process. Inside, Klaus could see Pastor Young, Matt Donovan and Andi Star’s parents gathered around a table that was filled with pastries and coffee. “Mom invited the families of the victims, hoping to show that the towns support them and if they need anything, all they have to do is ask. She thought hosting a small brunch was the way to accomplish that.”

“How sweet.” Klaus replied in a sarcastic tone; in the back of his mind he was wondering if it was an election year. He looked towards the room that the mayor had congregated people inside of and realized that he did not see Liz or Caroline inside. “If this brunch was to show the mayor’s support, why are the Forbes’s absent?”

“Mom thought it would be insensitive to invite them…since, Caroline survived.” Tyler stated in an awkward tone as he opened a door and lead them inside what appeared to be an office. It was larger than the director of the FBI’s office and far more elaborate. Instead of chairs, facing the desk, there was a full seating area complete with sofas, a coffee table and throw pillows. It looked more like the Queen’s sitting room where she served tea than the office of a small-town mayor. “What can I do for you?”

Marcel handed Tyler the warrant and took a seat on one of the sofas. Much like he had done at the Salvatore house, Klaus paced the room. Part of him wanted to sit behind the desk to show Tyler exactly who was in charge. However, by his demeanor before they entered the mayor’s office, Tyler knew his place in this investigation and what the consequences would be if he refused to corporate. Klaus was unsure if that set warning bells off in his head or if he wanted to be suspicious of him. Klaus wondered at the change from the cocky man he had met at the hospital.

“Yesterday afternoon, Ms. Forbes lead us to one of the Lockwood cellars on your property.” Marcel told Tyler in an easy tone while Klaus took in the room. On the far right stood a tall bookshelf that held several leather-bound volumes that by the spines, Klaus could tell that they were unused. Not of speck of dust could be found and despite the fact that the volumes were unread, they were cleaned often. Pictures lingered around the room but lacked any sort of personal touch. The office, much like the other parts of the house Klaus had seen, felt showy and empty; making Klaus wonder if this was a theme that occurred often in the town’s most prominent families. “We obtained a warrant and this morning searched it and discovered that the victims had been held there prior to their murder.”

“Shit.” Tyler whispered, sinking down onto the couch. He put his hands into his hands and shook his head. Both agents stood there watching him for a second, allowing him time to collect his thoughts. Every movement was studied and calculated. When he pulled his head up, Klaus could see a million different thoughts running through his mind. Something was playing behind those brown eyes. “What was down there?”

“That’s classified.” Marcel stated smoothly and Tyler pursed his lips. “Are there any more cellars or tunnels on your property that we should be made aware of? If so, we are going to want to search them.”

“Yes. There are five in total. Two are caved in through and have been for years.” Tyler stood up and walked towards the desk. He opened a few drawers and pulled out a key. He walked over to an old painting that Klaus assumed was some Lockwood ancestor of sorts and took the painting off the wall. There was a safe behind the painting and Tyler opened the safe easily. He shuffled through a few things and pulled out a small leather binder that was tied with a small leather strap. Tyler untied the binder and rooted through several papers. “We keep the deed to the house and a few other things in here; including a detail on the surrounding property. Here.” Tyler handed Marcel a list of what appeared to be the cellars among other various landmarks on the Lockwood property. “All the cellars and tunnels should be listed on there as well as their locations. Search wherever you need.”

“Thank you.” Klaus took the list from Marcel’s hand and scanned over it. He pulled out his phone and took a screenshot of it, sending it to Maddox with instructions to have the agents stay behind and wait for them to search the remaining cellars. “Who all knows about these?”

“Honestly, I can’t answer that. We don’t advertise the cellars or tunnels. Mom feels that it would bring up bad options on our ancestors; because of what the cellars were used for.” Tyler informed the agents, avoiding looking at Marcel as though he would be offended about the subject he was dancing around.

“You mean the fact that were used to hide slaves?” Marcel asked in an unbothered tone. Klaus knew Marcel well and they both knew that he was descended from slaves during the Civil War. It was a fact that Marcel had come to terms with long ago but also did not like being reminded of it, especially by a man of privilege. Despite all of that, he was not about to let Tyler see that side of him.

“Yes.” Tyler nodded. “I can’t really give you a list of people who know about it because we don’t press charges against everyone who walks through the woods on our property. We would have to charge half the town and that would take too much time.”

“Fair point.” Klaus replied, eyeing Tyler. There was something he was withholding, and Klaus was not in the mood to play games with him. Images of the tunnels were far to fresh and Klaus wanted to hold Tyler responsible for their existence. “What are you not telling us?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Lockwood, if you know something. Tell us. Us finding out later will only be worse for you in the long run.” Tyler was silent for a moment, and the agents could see the decision going through his mind; back and forth.

“Okay. I may have shown the cellars to a few people.” Tyler paused. “Specifically, woman.” Both Marcel and Klaus looked at Tyler in incredulity. After a second, Marcel started to laugh lightly as though he was highly amused, but Klaus could tell that by the tone that his partner was anything but.

“Let me understand you. You would take woman hiking through the woods and show them cellars that your ancestors used to hold slaves?” Marcel asked as though he was trying to understand him better. “To what purpose? To get laid?” Tyler nodded and Marcel just shook his head in disbelief. “Who was the last one?”

“Caroline. She actually gave me hell when I took her there. She was far from impressed.” Tyler replied, honestly. “I haven’t been down there in years. Caroline and I started dating in college and then eventually got engaged. I had no need to go down there anymore.”

“What about Ms. Parker? Your current girlfriend?” Klaus asked.

“She has never been down there.” Tyler replied, taken aback slightly. His eyes shifted between Marcel and Klaus, looking suspicious for the first time. “How do you know about Liv?”

“Was she the woman who you cheated on Caroline?”

“What? No.”

“Who was she? Did you take her down there?”

“Hayley? No, no Hayley as far as I know has never been down there.”

“Hayley?”

“Marshall.” Tyler held up his hands as though he was defending himself. “What are you accusing me of? I didn’t do anything. I admit that leading woman down there in hopes of sex was a douche of a move, but I grew up a lot since then. I stopped doing that after Caroline and I got serious.”

“And yet you still cheated on her.” Klaus snapped back. It was a rash comment and he knew that he would have to watch his tone if he did not want this interview to end the same way the interview with Damon ended; with the fatal lawyer request.

“I regret that. Hayley and I, it was stupid, and I have tried to make it up to Caroline since, but she refuses to allow me a second chance.” Tyler genuinely seemed sincere and Klaus did not know if that made him dislike him more. “I ended things with Hayley after Caroline caught us. I thought that maybe we could work things out. Get back together but she wants nothing to do with me.”

“And what does any of this have to do with you leading woman down to those cellars? If you no longer exercise that practice?” Klaus asked, trying to steer the questioning back towards the investigation.

“Vicki and I used to mess around in high school. It was nothing serious. She had a crush on me despite dating Jeremy Gilbert. I used that. We would use the Lockwood cellars as a meeting place.” Tyler admitted. “We wanted to keep things quiet. It was just sex at the time and ended before we left high school. I don’t know if she kept going down there or not.”

“I see.” Klaus replied, looking Tyler over. “So, you and Vicki used to have sex in high school, what about after?”

“No. Once I went off to college, I started dating Caroline.”

“You’ve already proven that infidelity is not an issue for you. I just wanted to check. Excuse me if I find your sincerity questionable.” Klaus told him with a cynical smile. He was scrutinizing him and Klaus had him pegged. He had seen dozens of men just like him before. Rich, with a sense of entitlement and having the audacity to believe that forgiveness should just be handed to them without having to earn it first. He was everything Klaus could have become but didn’t, a fact that Klaus did not want to admit to himself. The fact that Tyler was trying to be on his best behavior now intrigued Klaus. Tyler saw the damage that was done to Elena when the news of her affair with Damon became public and he clearly wanted to prevent that from happening to him. “What about drugs? Did you use those cellars to get high?”

“What?”

“Drugs. Maybe heroin, Dilaudid or meth?”

“I smoked weed in high school a few times but nothing since and it was never down there.” Tyler replied in a confused tone. “I never touched anything harder than that.”

“Do you know anyone who does?”

“Half the town. There isn’t much to do around here. Take your pick, someone is bound to be one something.”

“Like Vicki?”

“Yeah. Her drug habits were well known in town. She started getting messed up in high school.” Tyler paused and Klaus could read between the lines. Vicki would be high whenever they had sex and there was a fine line between consent and sleeping with someone under a drug induced haze. “But I haven’t really spent much time with her since we graduated.”

“Do you know where she would get her supply?”

“No.” Klaus watched him but Tyler was doing everything he could to keep his face passive. Before him was a serial cheater who had two politicians for parents. Lying was second nature for him. Caroline was an intelligent woman that if she had not caught Tyler in the act, never would have suspected his infidelity. It pained Klaus to admit that Tyler was a good liar and he was questioning whether or not he was being truthful.

“You knew both Vicki and Caroline intimately. What about April Young?” Marcel asked in a bored tone but studied him carefully. Both men were watching for the slightest hint of acknowledgment; however, Tyler did nothing but shake his head.

“No. Honestly? I forgot about April’s existence after we graduated high school. She was not someone who particularly stood out.” Tyler admitted and both of the men believed him. April, while pretty, did not have the same beauty as the other woman that would have caused Tyler to take a notice. “Mom had to remind me who she was when her name was among the list of victims.”

“What of Andi Star? Ever have a relationship with her?”

“Andi? No. I mean I knew her, but everyone did. She was the town’s success story. Mom liked to roll the red carpet out for her whenever she came to town. She and I never had any sort of relationship. I never even slept with her. I think the most we ever did was maybe dance at some town function or something, but I can’t be sure.”

“What about the name Camille O’Connell?”

“Never heard of her before this mess started.” Tyler replied. “Look, I admit it. I’m not exactly the best at relationships. I slept around and it wasn’t until Caroline called me on it, tossing the ring I bought her in my face that I realized that I messed up. But this, I didn’t do this. I’m not a murder.”

Both Klaus and Marcel just looked at him; something apparent became obvious to both of them. Tyler was terrified. The question became; what was he scared of? His dark eyes were darting between the two of them as though they were going to pounce on him. There was something lurking beneath the surface that Tyler wanted to tell them, and they could see it. They waited but Tyler apparently decided that he was doing speaking to them.

“Where were you on the evening of June 5th?”

“My girlfriend and I were here.”

“Which one? Hayley Marshall or Olivia Parker.” Klaus asked, not being able to help himself. While he did not like Tyler, the man did not stir anger inside of Klaus like Damon had. Perhaps it was because, despite his fidelity issues, Tyler shown no history of violence. That did not make him innocent and Klaus would keep an open mind about him until there was proof clearing him completely. However, that did not stop Klaus from the enjoyment of toying with him.

“I was with Liv. I told you. Hayley and I are over.” Tyler snapped. He stood and walked over to his mother’s desk. He grabbed a notepad and a piece of paper, jotting something down. He handed it to Klaus and gave him a dead stare. “Here is her number. Call her if you’d like.”

“Oh, we will.” Klaus took the slip of paper from his hands, looking down at the digits he had written. He tossed Tyler a smirk that was meant to irritate him; for no other reason that it gave Klaus joy to see Tyler squirm. Klaus handed the note over his shoulder to Marcel, who took it easily; already typing the number into his phone and passing the information off to Slater.

“Contact us if you remember anything else Mr. Lockwood.” Marcel told him without look up from his phone. With one last calculating look, Klaus turned from Tyler and headed towards the office door; opening and allowing Marcel to step through first. On the other side, he could see Carol speaking with Matt and Pastor Young; all three tossing questioning eyes at the office door. Andi’s parents were nowhere to be found.

“One last thing.” Klaus turned from the curious gazes of the onlookers. “When we met at the hospital the other day, you introduced yourself as Caroline’s fiancé. Tell me, how do you think Ms. Parker would feel if she learned that you still viewed Caroline as the woman you intend to marry?”

Not allowing Tyler to answer, Klaus left the office and passed by the mayor and her guest, knowing full well that the three of them heard his final question. It was petty but the sheer look of disappointment on Carol’s face brought a hint of satisfaction to Klaus’s mood. Toying with Tyler rounded out his bad temper from back in the woods. It was petty but frankly, Klaus did not care.

“Well he is a douchebag.” Marcel stated as they made their way towards their SUV. Marcel took the keys from Klaus, deciding that it was his turn to drive back to the edges of the Lockwood property. Klaus happily handed them over, the feeling of exhaustion creeping up on him.

“He has been involved with two out of the five victims and probably tried to sleep with Andi at some point, but was shot down. I don’t know if it is a coincidence or motivation. It’s a small town and there is bound to be some overlap.” Klaus replied and Marcel nodded in agreement. There was a slight scowl forming on Marcel’s lips that Klaus could see. He was not surprised; Tyler was the exact type of man Marcel despised. “You hated him.”

“Absolutely.” Marcel replied and his slight southern twang that all but vanished when he moved to D.C came out. Marcel started the SUV and began to pull out of the “Southern white man of privilege who likes to sugarcoat his family history. Of course, I hated him but that is irrelevant. Do you think he is our guy? Nothing about him screamed serial killer but they rarely ever do.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Like I said, he was romantically involved with two of the victims and had easy access to the cellars that they were held in, but he does not strike me as someone who would use street drugs let alone a narcotic like Dilaudid. If he is the killer, or knows who it is, how would he have gotten them?” Klaus voiced his thoughts, rubbing his forehead; fighting the headache that was threatening to form. “I think he is hiding something, but I don’t know what.”

“You have no idea what?”

“Do you?”

“No. Theories but nothing concrete.” Marcel added and Klaus nodded. They drove through town again and headed towards the outskirts of town. They were meeting the agents back at the edge of the Lockwood property to search the additional cellars. They both knew that it would take a bit of time to find them, but the information Tyler passed to them provided enough direction to begin looking. “Let’s get this over with and head back to the station. I’m sure Liz is waiting with batted breath to find out if we found anything.”

“To be honest. I’m surprised she didn’t just show up herself.” Klaus muttered but in the back of his mind, he knew she wouldn’t; especially with Bonnie being called into the bakery so early. Liz was not about to leave her daughter alone, especially when Caroline was passed out on sleeping pills.

By the time Marcel and Klaus were done searching all of the cellars, the sun was beginning to set. Much like Tyler had said, two of the tunnels were caved in and the rest held nothing of interest. They were smaller and beyond similar cells in each, they did not hold the same interest as the one where Caroline and the others had been held. Klaus knew that the killer was unlikely to go back to the first one but might try and move to another if he took another victim. Part of Klaus wondered if they could convince Vincent to allow the additional agents to remain in Mystic Falls but he doubted it; lack of resources or some other bureaucratic excuse. Either way, it was worth the request; if it came from Marcel.

The station was quiet and in the process of shift change when they entered. Klaus and Marcel weaved through the officers and made their way towards the conference room with takeout from the Grill in hand. While it was not the worst food Klaus had ever had, several days of it in a row was tiring. Seeing that the two agents were both starving, only having ate the donuts from Bonnie’s bakery earlier in the day, he would make do.

With his mind on food, Klaus almost missed seeing Caroline sitting in her mother’s office. He had to do a double take when she caught his eye. At first Klaus felt his stomach leap at the sight of her, the memory of their almost kiss surfacing in his mind. However, when he was able to take in her appearance the elated feeling that bubbled inside him burst. He had hoped that with the sleeping pill, whether it was willfully taken or not, would have given Caroline some rest but she appeared to be startled and terrified. She was sitting in one of Liz’s chairs, her knees brought to her chest and she appeared to be biting at her nails; a habit he had yet to see from her so far. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail and she wore a loose T-Shirt and jeans that looked as though she just tossed them on.

“Here. Take these. Call Vincent and see if he will give us the extra men.” Marcel nodded, his eyes flickering between Klaus and Caroline. Klaus could tell that he wanted to say something but refrained; knowing that it would be ignored. He took the food and headed towards the conference room while Klaus made his way towards Liz’s office; knocking on the closed door. Liz bid him entry and he slowly stepped inside.

Seeing Caroline up-close only confirmed his fears. She looked worse for wear. Her eyes were red, and she clearly had been crying. Her position told Klaus that she was doing her best to hold herself together but found it harder than she was expecting. Klaus wanted to walk over to her and take her into his arms; offering the comfort she clearly needed but was unsure of his welcome. He had feelings for Caroline, that much was clear, but he was also in Mystic Falls to do a job. It was a fine line to walk in order to balance the two.

“Did you find anything of interest Klaus?” Liz asked and Klaus nodded, not taking his eyes from Caroline. He took a seat in the vacant chair and turned it to face Caroline; knowing full well that Liz’s eyes were on both of them. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and reached out to take Caroline’s uninjured hand into his.

“Talk to me.” Klaus’s voice was low and gentle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Liz looking at their linked hands, but he did not care. All he could see was the grief written all over Caroline’s face and needed to know what was wrong. “Are you okay?”

“No.” It was a useless question and they both knew it; but Klaus needed her to open up to him. “I woke up around noon. Mom had already left for the station, but Bonnie was on the couch. Everything seemed fine. I dressed and let Enzo out. I went to get the mail and I found that inside.”

Caroline nodded towards an envelope resting on Liz’s desk. Klaus reached over and picked up the envelope. It was a typical white envelope that Klaus could find at any general store. It was marked with Caroline’s name and address but there was no return address on the upper left-hand corner. It was stamped and mailed; telling Klaus that this was not hand delivered. This could have been sent from anywhere. Klaus opened the envelope up and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was a note, typed on a computer and completely unremarkable outside of the words that were printed on it.

Caroline,

I miss you. Why did you leave? Did you not like the home I made for you? Where you not comfortable? I gave you everything and yet, you still left. This is your home. You belong here with me, not wandering to places where it is not safe. Only I can keep you safe.

You’re mine, Caroline. One way or another, I will have you home. You will never leave me again and will forever be by my side. They took the others from me, but I refuse to allow them to take you from me too. You belong here with me. Soon you will see to reason.

See you soon, Your only friend.

“What does he mean that he will see me soon?” Caroline whispered as Klaus read the letter. He gripped her hand tightly, his knuckles turning white. If he was crushing her hand, Caroline said nothing; not willing to let go. Klaus could see that she was doing everything in her power to keep calm and not have a complete breakdown. While the emotions cursing through him caused him difficulty in remaining objective, Klaus tried to focus on the words in the letter and not how good it felt to hold her hand. “He is going to come after me, isn’t he?”

“No one is going to hurt you.” Klaus said. He turned his eyes toward Liz and her fear was radiating from her body. He could tell that she was thinking of every possible way to keep her daughter safe but was coming up with nothing. Klaus could understand how lost Liz must feel, having been there himself. The desire to chase down this monster was pushing its way to the surface. “Wait here.”

Klaus stood and left the office. He made his way through the police station with a furious pace. He entered the conference room and the smell of his dinner assaulted him; but any hunger he had had been replaced by a ball forming in the pit of his stomach. Marcel was on the phone and Vincent’s voice sounded through the speaker. Klaus tossed the note down on the table and Marcel picked up it, reading it.

“Jesus. He is taunting her.” Marcel replied and then proceeded to read it to their supervisor over the phone. Klaus explained that it was post marked and mailed to her without a return address; but not hand delivered. It was be difficult to trace without the return address. It could have been dropped into any mailbox in town.

“Clearly.” Vincent replied in a stilted tone. He went silent on the other end and both Klaus and Marcel could hear him typing. “I’ll have agents Rosza and Vanchure drive down in the morning. The agents that I sent this morning can stay in town for the time being. I can ensure that her house is guarded at all times.” Klaus paused, taken aback. He expected more fight from Vincent, citing red tape and not enough funding; not easy cooperation. “I want this to stay quiet. The director is concerned that if the masses discover that Andi Star was murdered by a serial killer, Mystic Falls will be overrun by journalist and that will only make catching him that more difficult.”

“Journalist are protective of their own.” Marcel told them. “We will do what we can to keep this quiet. The local paper has printed some articles about the murders but nothing more widespread than that. I can contact them to see if they will not contact larger papers or news outlets. Maybe we can keep this contained if we promise an interview or something when this is done.” Klaus shot Marcel a look and nodded. That was all he needed to hear before turning and all but storming out of the conference room. He would let Marcel iron out the details; Klaus’s first concern would be Caroline.

“We are going to post agents on your home at all times.” Klaus told them the second he walked back into Liz’s office. Gone was the sympatric and compassionate man who wanted nothing more than to ease Caroline’s pain and was replaced with the agent who was so focused on the job that he would do anything to complete it. “It would be best if you do not go out alone or leave the house without someone with you.”

“You want me to be a prisoner.” Caroline asked and her choice of words ate at Klaus. Images of the case she had been trapped in shot through his memory like a bullet, striking him where it hurt most. Looking at Caroline, Klaus knew that this was a woman who should not be held back; someone who deserved the world laid at her feet and not stripped from her as it had been.

“No.” Klaus replied, his voice forceful and his eyes held such conviction that Caroline almost believed him. “You are never going to be a prisoner again. The agents are to keep you safe, not hinder your movements. When this is all over and we find him, I promise you that you will never be forced in a cage again.”

“You saw it. You went down there.” It wasn’t a question; Caroline knew the answer. Klaus understood something about her in that moment. She was brave and fearless but that tiny underground cell would always haunt her. It was meant to be the place she was going to die in, and no matter of bravery, vengeance or justice would erase that terror from her mind.

“Yes.” There was no point in hiding the truth from her. No matter the amount of pain Caroline was in, Klaus knew that she would be able to handle the truth. One thing that Klaus admired about Caroline, despite having only known her for a few days, was how strong she appeared to be. It was one of the many things that drew him to her; because even in an abandoned dark tunnel, Caroline seemed to be the light at the end of it.

“I need to get out of here.” Caroline stood from her chair abruptly, pulling her hand from Klaus’s grasp and ran from the office. Klaus shot Liz a look, telling her that he would follow her and went after Caroline. He saw her run out of the police station and caught up with her easily as she walked through the parking lot.

“Caroline!” Klaus called after her and his long legs made it easy for him to catch up to her. She stopped when she saw him and brought her arms around herself; trying to hold herself together. She had been so strong the day before, walking in the woods; showing them exactly where she had been held. Now, Klaus wondered if it was too soon. Maybe she was pushing herself too much.

“I can’t stay here Klaus. I feel like I’m suffocating. It’s like the walls are closing in on me. I need to get out of here.”

“Do you trust me?” Klaus asked her and Caroline shot him a questioning look. He could see that she was thinking of the previous day and not just her incident at seeing the entrance of her prison; or climbing out of it. She was thinking of that moment by the car and how they almost kissed. Klaus had replayed that moment over and over again in his thoughts and he knew that Caroline had done the same. “Do you trust me Caroline?”

“Yes.” Caroline told him in a soft tone, the realization startling in her eyes. “Yes. I do.”

“Then come with me.”

[erudite-rebel]

💘 + have you already got Qrowbleck? If you have, make it unbound fate instead.

(I have not gotten Qrowbleck, but if you wanna send the latter again go ahead)

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

(under cut because LONG)

where they first met and how

On the Beacon roof. Oob ran away from the cafeteria because he refused to sleep in the crowded room and Qrow ended up meeting him up there. Their introduction was extremely brief and Qrow beat a fast retreat.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

Flirting didn’t begin until Oob worked up the courage to approach the unapproachable again in the library. He spotted Qrow reading in the corners and avoiding people and approached him, and when Qrow didn’t tell him to piss off he sort of glommed on and they became friends. Flirting was unconscious on Barty’s part. He had a stupid crush and he paid a lot of compliments, and they both existed in squishy existence for some time before someone made a move, which in fact predated any dating.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Barty, but he wasn’t really aware of the nature of it at first. The more Qrow grew to like him and how honest Barty was the quicker he fell after.

where their first date was and what it was like

Barty asked Qrow out, and he took him to the natural history museum because he found out Qrow didn’t know what a dinosaur was.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

Barty asked Qrow. He was nervous and he stuttered over it and Qrow was terrified Barty had figured out who he was.

who proposes first

I am not actually sure at all. Neither of them consider themselves the marrying type, and it entirely depends on how the relationship progresses. Chances are Barty does the asking though, and he tries to follow any tribe traditions if he’s learned about them.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Neither would scream it to the roof tops, neither would hide it

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

Alone in the woods, in nature

if they adopt any pets together

A dog and many cats. Qrow wants an unusual looking dog, Barty wants a big one, and they settle on an afghan. Both of them are guilty of cat adopting.

who’s more dominant

They both fluctuate but Barty is more dominant in bed most of the time.

where their first kiss was and what it was like

Qrow kissed Barty to shut him up. It lead to a bit of a physical FWB for a bit while neither of them admitted they had feelings.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

Mugs, a necklace

how into pda they are

They are both not shy at all about PDA and in their youth they definitely got up to no good in semi-public places

who holds the umbrella when it rains

Barty tol, he holds the umbrella

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

Picnics in the woods or quiet home dates

who’s more protective

They are both extremely protective and are quick to throw hands tbh but Barty’s more open about it. He’s the angry little dog, Qrow’s the brooding cat.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

TBH wasn’t long before they shared nap. And they slept together before they were dating because Impulse Control is not a good thing

if they argue about anything

Morals and ideals can cause a bit of friction. While Barty’s very stick it to the man, sometimes Qrow’s laxed morals can spark a little heat

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Qrow leaves tons of marks. Barty is encouraged as well. He’s gotten pretty good at his make up to keep his throat respectable 

who steals whose clothes and how often

They are equal opportunity thieves of clothes but Qrow more often steals

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

A tangle of limbs. It’s ridiculous. Looks like two stickbugs having a nap

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

Camping

how long they stay mad at each other

It can go on for awhile, weeks even, before one of them breaks and goes to the other.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Both of them like cream and sugar, though Barty’s a honey latte guy and Qrow just as quickly reaches for tea.

if they ever have any children together

They’d adopt. Adoption is near to Qrow’s heart. Otherwise they might look for a surrogate and Barty would be the biodad.

if they have any special pet names for each other

Sometimes they call each other pretty bird

if they ever split up and / or get back together

They would potentially split up post Beacon if life doesn’t align well for them, or try to maintain a FWB or open relationship. They’d get back together later, when Qrow was starting to get clean 

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Messy. Barty has his chaotic system and Qrow goes with the flow, so sometimes it kind of gets neglected. It’s full of trinkets and books and things

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Barty enjoyed every moment of Qrow’s explanation of Yule and wanted to recreate it all

what their names are in each other’s phones

They are a slowly evolving and changing system of silly unintelligible nicknames and inside jokes

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

Camping as much as possible during off breaks

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Again depends on Torpor. Barty sleeps far longer when he does, otherwise he doesn’t sleep. Both of them are notoriously late risers and bad night owls

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

They swap out but Qrow prefers little spoon

who hogs the bathroom

They can both be pretty vain about their care routines though Qrow won’t admit that much. Barty is probably worse tho 

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

Both of them are the catch and release type with spiders, though both of them are live and let live. Qrow has an unfortunate bird brain problem with them too though, so he’s likely to just eat them.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Fic ideas that I don’t know if I should continue

Well howdy there folks, so here’s the thing, I’m looking through my saved documents and have found a few fics that I’ve started (And by started I mean, I’ve written like 1 page max for each one) For one reason or another, I never got around to continuing them, and reading over them again now, I’m not sure if I should.  I’ll post what I have bellow, but I would really love to know if anyone out there would be interested in reading these? 

If you are interested and would like to be tagged in the eventually finished product, just let me know 😊

Soulmate Fic. Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader 

Have you found your soulmate yet? If not, don’t panic, they’re out there somewhere! There have been cases of people not finding their soulmate until they turn sixty! But how do you know if you have found, the one? While scientists are still unable to explain exactly how this occurs, the moment you are in close proximity to your soulmate, you are able to hear them whenever they sing. But keep in mind, it is only when they sing, not when they listen to music!                                                                       

**********

“If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe I'd been married a long time ago Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?”

The moment you first hear your soulmate’s voice singing in your head, you practically had a heart attack. Okay, so not quite, but you did find yourself quite flustered. So much so, that the egg you were in the midst of cracking for the cake you were making, ended up with the egg itself in the trash, while the shell was deposited into the cake mix. “Bloody fucking fuckety fuck!” You hiss, as you scoop the cracked shell out of the flour mix.  This was certainly not how you had imagined your first encounter with your soulmate would go. You always heard about couples who had cute first interactions! Like one of them was singing old show tunes, or something of the likes. But oh no, what do you get? God damned Cotton Eye Joe.

You hear a door slam in the apartment, followed but feet pounding down the corridor. “I heard swearing, is everything alright?” Your best friend Ben appears in the kitchen entry, his green eyes scanning the room for any signs of injury.

“I’m fine, don’t stress.” You smile softly, the frown which had enveloped your features only moments ago, quickly vanishing as you take in Ben’s worried expression.

He nods, blonde curls swaying over his forehead. “Alright, if you’re sure Y/N, because I’m more than happy for you to borrow my oven, but I’m not alright with you injuring yourself in my home!”

“Duly noted. Thank you Benjamin.” You poke your tongue out at him, before turning back to the recipe, scanning over the paper for the next step. Ben had been more than willing for you to borrow his oven for the afternoon, the baking bug had bitten you, but you had recently found yourself without a functioning oven, which is how you found yourself stood in his apartment now, baking a monstrosity of a chocolate cake, complete with four layers.

Ben slides up next to you, leaning his back against the kitchen counter, looking over at you quizzically. “No, but really, what was the swearing all about?”

You shrug half-heartedly, keeping your eyes focused on the mundane task of whisking the ingredients together. “It was nothing, just heard something surprising is all.”

Ben nods, and for a split second you truly believe he will drop the subject, but you sadly have no such luck. “As in, you heard something surprising on the radio, or you heard something surprising in your head….”

Turning in his direction, you shoot a glare his way, hoping it would convey your desire for him to no longer pursue his line of questioning. “Y/N Y/L/N, I swear to any and all higher powers, if you mean to tell me that you just heard your soulmate while standing in my fucking kitchen, I will murder you!”

Your silence seems to be answer enough, and Ben lets out a screech, before planting his large hands over your shoulders, and pushing you towards the front door. “Ben! What to hell are you doing?” You squawk, as he marches you out of his apartment, and down the three flights of stairs that lead to the main entrance. “Seriously Ben, the oven is still on, you shouldn’t leave an oven unattended!”

Ben ignores you, removing one hand from your shoulder, for just long enough to open the double glass doors, before pushing you out and onto the street. “You will stand out here singing, until your soulmate finds you.”

Your mouth hangs open, as you turn to look at the triumphant grin on your best friend’s face. He genuinely looks proud of this plan he has come up with, and it worries you that he doesn’t seem to recognise the many, MANY flaws in this plan. “So what, I’m just supposed to stand out here for the rest of my life then? Ben your apartment is on a bloody main road! Whoever it was, was probably just driving past!”

“Well here’s a good way to figure that out, can you still hear singing?”

You stop dead in your tracks, scowling at the blonde. You had been so preoccupied with being physically dragged outside, that you had stopped paying any attention to the song playing in your head. “Well, the song’s changed.” You mutter, listening to the chorus of the Phantom of the Opera theme.  You had to give your soulmate credit where it was due, whoever they were, they could certainly carry a tune. Though perhaps opera wasn’t their strong suit….

“I promise to put everything for your cake in the fridge alright? You can finish it off later on, but for now, I don’t want to see you back in my apartment for at least the next hour alright?”

---

Getting caught in the rain after work.  Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

The phone rings, once, twice, three times. Neither you nor your fellow receptionist feel the desire to answer the incoming call, both of you knowing what the person on the other end of the line is after. It’s always the same, a patient will call up, desperate the see a Doctor immediately, paying no mind to the fact that they have just called on a Monday morning, three hours after the GP clinic had opened. You couldn’t count how many times you had been yelled at today by patients who couldn’t get their way. 

“I got the last one.” Jean smirks, gesturing to the incoming call with a pen.

“Oh, I didn’t realise we were keeping tally of how many calls we had answered today.” You grin back, swivelling in your chair to face the phone. Despite the constantly ringing phones, there had been an unexpected, but not unwanted lull in patients these past ten minutes, allowing yourself and Jean to take a bit of a breather from the chaos the morning had brought with it.

“Good morning, general practitioners’ clinic, Y/N speaking.” You greet, as you pick up the receiver, a friendly smile pasted over your lips. Rule one of working in a Doctor’s clinic, always speak with a smile in your voice.

“I’m dying.” A soft melodic voice wails through the line, causing you to pause mid-sentence. You would recognise that voice anywhere, whether you necessarily wanted to or not.

“Mister Taylor, I can assure you, you are not dying.” Jean turns to face you, raising a knowing eyebrow. She had played witness to what she called, yours and Mister Taylor’s ‘flirting’ for months now.

“And how do you know that?”

“Well, according to you Mister Taylor-“

“It’s Roger.”

“Sorry, Roger. According to you, you have been dying for the past week and a half. Either you had better hurry up and die, or recover immediately.”

The line goes silent for a moment, and you almost think that perhaps Roger had hung up. “Do you talk to all your patients like this?”

“No, only you.”

“Oh, well I’m honoured then.” There’s a soft laugh that breaks through Roger’s voice, and you can almost picture the cocky grin he’s sporting. He thinks he’s won, he always does. You know exactly how this conversation will end, it’s the same way your conversations have always ended. “So, will you let me take you out sometime soon? There’s a new pub that’s opened up on main, looks like it’s a little less dodgy than some of the others around.”

You pull the phone away from your lips to groan.

---

John Deacon has a new room-mate who doesn’t understand that paying the drums late at night is NOT socially acceptable. Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

You press your face into your pillow with almost too much force, just escaping from bruising your nose, while your hands clamp down over your ears, a second pillow arched over the back of your head, the sides pressed firmly against the shell of your ear.  Three weeks this had been going on, for three whole weeks, you found yourself attempting to fall asleep every night, with a pile of pillows threatening to suffocate you. Why, you may be asking? Well for three weeks straight, your usually quiet next-door neighbour had had someone staying with him, and that someone had clearly decided bringing a drum kit with him, was a phenomenal idea! Of course, you wouldn’t mind the drumming if it occurred during the day, but for some reason, this person had decided the ideal time to practise, was from ten in the evening onwards. Surely you couldn’t be the only one in your apartment building who had an issue with the late night percussionist? Though maybe they were all the same as you, unsure how to approach the subject of asking them to stop? You had known John Deacon for a few months now, he had moved in back in July,  and you had had a few fleeting conversations with the gentle man, mostly when you happened to cross paths while collecting mail, or taking out the garbage. during those chats, he never seemed like the type of person to condone such ungodly behaviour. Though you suppose, looks can be deceiving. So, after three weeks and two days of only sleeping for close to three hours a night, you decided to finally take matters into your own hands.  By writing a well worded letter.

“Dear Mr John Deacon’s housemate. If you could please refrain from playing your drums in the evening, during the time period where most people are attempting to sleep, that would be greatly appreciated. While I have no issues with your drumming in general, I do have an issue with you practising so late in the day. Perhaps you would consider playing in the afternoon instead, whilst most occupants of this apartment building, are at work? Kind regards, Y/N.”

You smile triumphantly down at the letter, folding it neatly before placing it into an envelope, leaving it unsealed, then resting it on your kitchen counter, you would drop it off on your way to work. Curling up back on your bed, you turn a pointed glare towards your bedroom wall, the thin plaster being all that separated you from the obnoxious drummer. “One way or another, I will make you stop drumming.” You grumble, before returning to your original position, of being buried beneath your pillows.

By the time your alarm clock sprang to life, you had managed to squeeze in another two hours of sleep, which made for a record four and a half hours of sleep for the night! You groan, as you pull yourself out from the comfort of your bed, scrubbing your palms over your face. As you pad into the bathroom, you scarcely want to look at yourself in the mirror, the bags beneath your eyes having grown progressively darker these past few weeks. Even your workmates had begun to notice how sleep deprived you were, you’re typically cheerful demeanour was being drowned out by your constant yawning, and continuous coffee consumption. You make quick work of getting ready for the day, throwing your hair up into a bun at the crown of your head, before applying a light coverage of makeup, just enough to try and hide the purple shadows of your eyes. It does little to help, and as the fluorescent light of your bathroom shines down on you, it occurs to you that you like just a tad corpse like. “Sexist dead girl there is…” You smirk, as you swipe a red lipstick across you lower lip.

 Back in your bedroom, you rummage through your closet for a clean shirt and skirt, before making a mental note to do laundry when you get home. Hopping on the spot, you simultaneously kick on one of your brown heels, whilst also buttoning up the pale pink blouse you had chosen for the day. You swap legs for the other shoe, as you tuck your shirt into your cream coloured skirt, fastening the zipper, before adjusting the waist band so the decorative brown buttons sat at your hips. Finally, after a couple of minutes of searching, you retrieve your purse from under your bed, frowning at yourself for placing it in such an awkward place.

Your shoes click against the tiled floor of your kitchen as you contemplate making a cup of coffee before leaving for the day, glancing up at the clock hung high on the wall, you realise you don’t have the time, and dart towards the front door. You skid to a stop just before the front door swings shut, holding your hand out to keep the door open, as you use your free hand to rummage through your purse, ensuring your key was there. It wouldn’t be the first time you had allowed the door to shut, with your key on the complete opposite side of where you needed it to be, just last week you had allowed this to happen while you went grocery shopping. It had ended up being a hard lesson learned, not to mention expensive, once the locksmith had made his appearance.

Upon finding your key safely hidden at the bottom of your bag, you turn towards your neighbour, marching the short distance to his apartment.  Stopping in front of John’s door, you tighten your grip on the envelope in your right hand. Perhaps half an hour or so ago, you had heard the door slam shut, but you had no way of knowing if both occupants had left, or just one. You contemplate knocking, to hand the letter to whoever may be inside, but quickly think better of it, and slip the think envelope between the door and the doorframe, either someone would find it when they arrived home, of it would fall to the floor in front of whoever opened the door from inside the apartment. With a spring in your step, you made your way downstairs, and out to the street walking towards the Doctor’s clinic where you worked. A smile tugging at your lips, as you imagined a peaceful night, with absolutely no drumming.

                                                                      *****

A deep frown had settled over Roger’s brow, as he held the letter between fisted hands, sitting at the dining table inside Deaky’s apartment. “What the fuck is this?” He snarled, as he read, then reread the letter. He payed little mind to the front door opening, an only bothered to look up when he heard John’s voice break the silence which had filled the room.

“Looks like a letter Rog.” Deaky smirks, as he kicked his shoes off by the door, before folding his arms across his chest and looking at the fuming drummer. “What’s going on?”

Roger tore his gaze away from the neat script he had been staring at for a solid twenty minutes, focusing now on his flatmate. “Nothing, it’s nothing Deaky. Don’t worry about it.” He finally sighed out, folding the letter back into the envelope, and pushing away from the table. He could vaguely recall John mentioning someone who lived in the building by your name, but he hadn’t actually met you, which made the letter you had sent, cut just the little bit more. You had said you didn’t mind his drumming, yet you didn’t want to hear it? Why not! Roger though of himself as a bloody good drummer! Anyone should feel honoured to hear him play, especially for free! “Hey, do you know where Y/N lives?” He called over his shoulder, as he made is way towards the sofa, where he had left his music journal and pencil.

John raised a curious eyebrow, has he moved around the kitchen, setting about to put together some cheese on toast. “Uh yeah, she lives next door, to the right. Why?” It wasn’t like Roger to ask where a woman lived, typically he found that sort of information out for himself.

“No reason, just heard the name around while I was checking for mail today, and realised I didn’t know here is all.”

John narrowed his eyes into a glare, which went unnoticed by Roger, as he began to scribble away in his journal. Roger hadn’t collected the mail today, he had…. Deciding it best to not question Roger’s motives, John continued around the kitchen, the only noises to be heard throughout the apartment were those of the frying pan heating up on the stove, and Roger’s fast moving pencil over paper.

“Deaky, I’m just ducking out for a few minutes, I’ll be back yeah?” Roger didn’t wait for a reply, before darting out into the hall, the paper he had been writing on, folded into quarters. Turning right, just as John had said, Roger steps up to what assumes must be your door. Just as you had done mere hours earlier, he slips the folded paper between the door and door frame.

---

Roger endeavours to sleep with a woman from every country before his 30th birthday. However the woman he picks from France proves to be more of a challenge than originally expected. Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader 

The dingy patchwork sofa bounced precariously as Freddie flopped onto it, pressing himself firmly in between Roger and Brian who had originally been the sole occupants of the sofa. The knitted blanket that was draped over the back slides to the ground, as its resting place is disturbed by the jostling lead singer. Finally, Freddie settles himself, crossing one leg over his knee, and turning his attention entirely on Roger. “How’s your body count looking these days?”

Roger flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, before taking another drag, blowing the smoke up towards the sky. “Are we talking fucks, or murders?” He asks casually. John peers over at his band mates from his seat on the armchair, frowning somewhat at Roger’s response.

Brian smirks gently, shaking his head at the blonde’s antics, while Freddie lifts an eyebrow up at him. “For interests’ sake, let’s say both…” He finally decides, lighting a smoke between his lips, breathing in deeply.

“25, 67.” He states simply, stretching his legs out on the rug beneath the sofa, digging his toes into the soft material. This time, John’s expression changes from that of mild interest, to one of pure intrigue, a smirk forming over his lips.

“I can’t tell if that’s an unusually high number of murders or strangely low number of fucks.” Brian teases, reaching his arm around Freddie to punch Roger’s shoulder playfully.

Roger rolls his eyes, taking another long drag from his dwindling cigarette. “One of those numbers will be going up this weekend too.”

Freddie squints at the drummer, as he assesses which number they were currently discussing. Deciding to give the blonde the benefit of the doubt, he figured he was about raise his ‘fuck’ number, rather than ‘murder’ number.  “And do tell dear Roger, who is the lucky lady to be?”

John lets out a loud chuckle, causing the three men to look over at him, all with equal questioning looks adorning their features. “Oh don’t look at me like that. Especially you Rog, I know damned well who you’re talking about!”

A pair of piercing blue eyes squint at John from across the room, the bassist grinning at the drummer. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, who are you talking about Deaky?”

John rolls his eyes, before begrudgingly pushing himself up and out of the armchair he had made himself comfortable in, strutting his way over to the back of the rehearsal studio. Pinned to the far wall is a world map, currently with pins stuck all across Europe, signifying where Queen would be next touring. “If my suspicions are correct, I believe Roger will be taking a bit of a drive across the border tonight.” John grins wickedly, gesturing with his index finger to France

---

Song fic - Jet Lag by Simple plan Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader (Could easily be changed to another Queen member if that what y’all would like to see!)

You collapse on your bed, sinking into the plush blankets, and massive pile of decorative pillows, it had been a long, and lonely week. It felt as if the standard five-day work week you had just endured, had been going on for at least a month. Though according to the red crosses on your calendar, it really was Friday the 1st, and not in fact Friday the 29th like it felt. The lonely part stemmed from the lack of company in your apartment over this past week, your boyfriend/ partner in crime, Roger Taylor was currently on tour with the rest of Queen, somewhere in Australia. While he had been away, your old school friend had come to stay while you had the house to yourself, but she had left for a business trip on Monday leaving you once again alone. You settle yourself more comfortably against your pillows, tilting your head back and to the side, keeping your eyes on the phone on your bedside table, just waiting for it to ring. Any minute now, you knew it would ring, and the anticipation of who would be calling had your heart racing.

The cool metal of Roger’s watch lay in your palm, and you clasped your fingers around the gold, circular face, rubbing your thumb gently against the glass. Just as you go to glance down at the time, the phone lets out a shrill ring. Once, twice, there isn’t a third. You dart your arm out quickly, and pick up the receiver, a wide grin spreading over your lips, showing off all your teeth. “Hello…” You ask softly with a bated breath.

“Y/N? Hi luv.” Roger’s smooth voice sends chills down your spine, goose bumps appearing over your arms.

 “What time is it where you are?”

“I’m in Sydney currently, and it is 9:15am. How about you?”

“6:15pm here, I just got home from work.”

“God, trying to figure out these time zones is making me crazy.”

“Hey, at least we’re doing better than at the beginning of the week. You were saying good morning, when it was midnight!”

“I just hate the thought of you alone. Five more days then I’ll be home.”

As if on cue, a rotund tortoiseshell cat leaps onto the end of the bed, purring loudly as she rubbed up against your toes.  “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m alone. Misty just joined me, I think she misses you too.”

You can hear Roger’s smile through the phone, and you grin softly yourself. Misty had been a rather unexpected addition to your household. One of Freddie’s cats had escaped his home one afternoon and had gone missing for an entire night. She returned the next day, and soon after, Freddie found himself a grandfather, and having to re-home five kittens. Never one to turn a stray away, you had leapt at the chance of adopting the kitten.

---

John Deacon forgets the bass line to Under Pressure, but who is the cause of his forgetfulness?  Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Miami found himself with four identical faces of shock staring at him as he stood in the recording studio, none of the band members were blinking, he wasn’t even entirely sure they were breathing either to be honest.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that darling.” Freddie was the first to break the silence, lifting a quizzical eyebrow at the manager before him.

Miami shook his head, an exasperated huff escaping his lips. “I said, David Bowie wants to record with you lot, he’ll be dropping by the studio in a week with some suggestions of his own, and I think it would be a good idea if you lot try to come up with something too.” He was met with more staring, and frankly it was becoming rather off putting. “Would you rather I call him back and say you don’t want to record with him?”

“No!” The four men shouted at once, no longer the statues they had been before.

“What we mean is, we would hate for you to disturb Mr Bowie, and would love to record with him.” John pipes up, ever the diplomat.

Brian nods along in agreement, while Roger and Freddie quickly begin discussing what it would be like to meet David. “We’ll come up some lyrics and tunes to show him.” Brian offers, grinning at their manager. It does little to reassure Miami, though all he can do is hope they don’t show up empty handed when Bowie arrives.

“I could do a massive drum solo halfway through the song.” Roger declares, waving his arms around like a crazed man. It was obvious to John that Roger was unimpressed with the album they were currently recording, though he couldn’t help but think that one drum solo wasn’t quite enough to get him to stop bitching about the other songs. “Or a bongo solo! Everyone likes bongo’s, right?”

“Darling, I refuse to have bongos on this song.” Freddie interjects, and John can’t help but grin as Roger’s face falls, he looks like a sulking child, which is more or less what he currently is.

“How do you know Bowie doesn’t like bongos?”

“Roger, shut up about the bongos.” John groans, as he turns on his heel to collect his bass where he had left it near one of the amps. It was one thing to listen to Roger complain, it was another to listen to him complain while not doing anything productive. John’s fingers slide over the strings of his bass, plucking a few chords at random as he closes his eyes, trying to picture a rhythm of some sort. There had been a few chords playing around in his head lately, though he hadn’t gotten the chance to play them as of yet.

‘Dun dun dun dadada dun’ his bass echoes the notes, as he plays them on repeat, bobbing his head along to the jazzy beat. The tune seemed to bleed into his soul as he played, and he soon found himself lost in the music. It was a simple rhythm, only a few chords, but he felt it had potential.

“That’s really good Deaky.” Brian grins, coming over to stand beside him, watching John’s fingers play across the strings. Freddie joins soon after, holding one of Roger’s drumsticks in his left hand. A smile plays across his lips, hidden behind his bushy moustache.

“It certainly has potential.” He offers, as he snaps his fingers on the second and fourth beat. Brian does the same, and soon Roger is joining in on his kick drum. “Next step, come up with a lyric.”  Freddie chuckles, as John places his bass back down, a smug smile on his lips.

“Wait, you guys think this is actually decent?” He asks stunned, his eyebrows creasing together, waiting for someone to start laughing, and to state it was all just a joke.

“Really John, if we can get the lyrics down, then I want to show this to Bowie.” Freddie grins broadly, as he returns his stolen drumstick to its rightful owner.

“I’m with Fred, just imagine having David, and Freddie’s voices singing along with that bass line, it’ll be an instant hit!” Brian supplies with an equally large smile. John takes a moment to take in what his bandmates were telling him, they truly liked what he had come up with, even if it was rather simple.

“I have one condition.” He declares, folding his arms across his chest. “And it isn’t negotiable.” All eyes are on him again, awaiting his next words in anticipation. “There will be absolutely no bongos on this song!”

“Fuck you Deacon!” Roger cries in outrage, throwing his drumstick with acute precision towards John’s head. Luckily, John knew what to expect from Roger these days, and easily stepped out of his firing line.

“If we agree with John, do we run the risk of having the drums thrown at us?” Brian chuckles quietly to Freddie, who instantly looks fearfully towards the drum kit.

“How about we go get some lunch?” Freddie sings out, waltzing his way towards the doors to the studio. Roger mutters under his breath as he follows him out, John can’t quite hear what he’s saying, though he’s sure it’s about bongos. Brian leaves next, and John takes up the rear. Freddie leads the group for a few minutes, in search of somewhere for lunch, they pass by their go to pub, with Freddie insisting he knew of somewhere far better and that it was just around the corner.

                                                                  *********

Just around the corner turned out to mean a twenty-minute walk, which had Roger grumbling the entire way.

“Just turn back if you’re going to complain the whole time.” Brian groans, which only increases Roger’s complaining. It was starting to grate on John’s nerves, he often forgot just how petulant the man could be.

“I’m gonna head-“ He began, before being interrupted by Freddie’s loud declaration of them having arrived at their destination.

“Go on, get in you’ll love this place!” Freddie grins, as he ushers the three others inside. The entire front wall of the café is windows, allowing the midday sun to stream in, warming everyone up on the cold winter’s day. Wooden chairs, with patchwork cushions sit nestled among wooden tables, each with a different mosaic design on top. The floor is covered in mismatched rugs, some more faded than others, but overall giving the café a warm and inviting feel. A young woman, with flaming red ringlets smiles brightly at the group, picking up four leather bound menus.

“Good afternoon! Will you be dining with us today?” She asks sweetly, her eyes falling on Roger almost instantly. “Roger Taylor, I don’t know if I should let you in. Y/N wouldn’t want you here.”

Roger has the decency to blush at her words, ducking his head low, allowing his hair to flop over his forehead. “Is Y/N here today?”

The hostess frowns, placing a hand on her hip. “Of course she’s here! She owns the bloody place!”

Roger gulps, shuffling his feet on the floor awkwardly. “We can go somewhere else, it’s not a problem.” John suggests, shrugging his shoulders slightly. They were all hungry, but there were other places to eat. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what Roger had done to the owner, knowing him, probably a one-night stand or something of the likes.

The hostess frowns once more, before sighing. “Follow me, I’ll tell Y/N that you’re here Roger.” She instructs as she leads them all to a four-seater table, placing the menus down in the centre before walking to the bar. Roger buries his head in one of the menus, ignoring the outside world as best he can. The few patrons of the café stare and whisper, pointing to the band. Nothing they weren’t used to at this stage of fame, though they could go without it some days, especially when trying to get a bite to eat.

John, Brian and Freddie each take a quick glance at their menus, before looking between one another, all of them with the same question running through their minds. “Roger Darling, what did you do to the owner of this fine establishment?” Freddie finally asks.

He looks up from his menu, biting his lower lip nervously, if it weren’t for the fact there was a strict no smoking sign on the entrance, John was sure Roger would be rolling a cigarette instead. “Oh, you know. She’s just another one of my college conquests is all.”

“Conquest my ass! You can shove that excuse up your ass Taylor.” You grumble, as you stand beside the table, glaring solely at the blonde man before you. You turn your attention to the other men at the table, you weren’t ignorant, you knew who they were, you had kept track of what Roger was up to over the years, it was hard not to, given how much publicity Queen got. “I knew this idiot in college, while he was studying to be a dentist still. I complained to him I had a toothache once, so he decided to punch me square in the jaw, in an effort to remove the painful tooth. He took out one of my bloody molars, which was great expect for the fact that it was a canine that hurt!” You grumble, taking out a notepad and pen to take their orders. “Then, he runs off with you lot, and never returns, leaving me with the dental bill!”

Roger has his head resting against the table now, Freddie and Brain are laughing, and John isn’t sure whether to kick Roger for his idiocy or to comfort the woman. He had spent the time she was telling her tale, to study her. She was beautiful, a quiet subdued sort of beauty, that really shone through when she was passionate about something, just as she was now. “I told you I was drunk at the time, you said it was fine for me to take a look at your mouth!” Roger protested loudly.

“There is a difference between taking a look at my mouth, and punching me!” You cry out, before lowering your voice, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your patrons. You take a deep breath in, before plastering a smile on your lips, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Welcome to The Hideout, what can I get you today?”

John grinned up at you, finding your ability to jump between casual and professional rather impressive. You caught his eye and winked, as you tapped your pen against your notepad, awaiting the band’s orders.

Freddie is the first to speak, smiling up at you. “Could we get a large margarita pizza to share please darling? And, four pints of whatever you have on tap please?”

You raise an eyebrow at Roger, who was attempting to make a fort out of the menus on the table. “I’ll get you three beers. I don’t trust blondie over here to drink.” You smirk, before it turns into a smile directed at John.

“Hey! Why don’t I get to drink!”

Brian chuckles quietly, before gesturing to the menu fort. “It may have something to do with your inability to behave like an adult.” He shrugs, curly hair bouncing over his shoulders as he does so.

---

For everything else that I’ve written, feel fee to check out my MASTERLIST  You’ll find a heap of Queen, BohRhap, 6 Underground, Labyrinth and Night at the museum! 

[softboywriting]

Christmas Eve | Werewolf AU | Shawn Mendes

Summary: You and Shawn spend some time together on Christmas Eve and he spoils his big Christmas surprise. [baby mention] [fluff]

Word Count: 1.7k

|Masterlist in Bio|

You wake up on Christmas Eve morning to see snow blanketing every inch of the world outside. It weighs heavy on the old pines, bowing the branches, turning dark pine needles vibrant glittering white. The landscape around the cabin is completely untouched as far as you can see, not even the deer or the rabbits have braved the snow yet. It's peaceful, relaxing in a way that only the first snow of the year can bring.

Shawn wraps his arms around you where you're stood at the sliding glass doors to the deck. The snow has gathered against the glass, a good four inches if you were to guess. Shawn lays his head on your shoulder. “Good morning honey,” he kisses your neck, flooding you with warmth.

“Good morning.” You reach up, threading your fingers through his thick tangle of hair. He has been letting it grow recently and you can't complain. His hair is gorgeous and the more you can grab the better.  

“What do you want to do today?”

“Sleep more?”

“I was thinking we could go for a run.” Shawn noses against your neck and nips at your skin. “It feels like it's been ages since I've shifted.”

You giggle at his attentions. His lips leave warm little wet spots on your skin as he kisses up and down, pleading his case. “I would have to bundle up. It's very snowy out there, or did you miss that?”

“I know,” he groans. He pulls away and walks around in front of you, blocking the view. “I really need to shift though. I'm itching to feel wild again. Please, I really want you to come with me.”

“Okay, okay.” You chuckle at his big eyes and pouty lip. “Your such a puppy sometimes I swear.”

Shawn kisses your cheek. “Wolf. I'm a wolf.”

“Yeah yeah.” You wave him off and go to search for some warm clothes to layer up with. Shawn would be perfectly fine and dandy with his thick fur coat. You are almost jealous of him, almost want  to say no because of the cold, but you know he wants you to be out there with him, that it means a lot.

___________________

Half an hour later and you find yourself standing in snow that is far deeper than you initially thought. Your boots are covered and you're thankful you decided to wear your coveralls that your mom got you last Christmas. They come down over your boots and keep the snow out completely. You're sure you look like a stay puft marshmallow girl, standing in the middle of the back lawn in your white coat and coveralls, but you don't care. No one can see you. Your closest neighbor is over a mile away.

Shawn bounds out of the forest, having run in there as soon as he got outside while you were still dressing. His dark fur is a stark contrast to the brilliant snow and though it's beginning to stick and cake on his outer coat, he's still very visible.

You laugh as he jumps back and forth, coming toward you where you're perfectly content by the house. As he approaches you take note of just how big he is. It wasn't often you saw him in this form, in fact, he usually doesn't shift unless he's really in need of it like today. So you're always in awe of his large stature. Shawn wasn't like a big dog, not really like a regular size wolf either. He was bigger, like a wolf from a Grimm fairytale.

Shawn approaches, butting his head against your stomach and nearly knocking you back. His head alone was nearly the size or your torso.

You can't help but wonder if he was abnormally large because of his alpha genetics or because he was also a large human. You thread your gloved fingers into the fur around his neck and it's deep, your hand keeps going, fingers wiggling until they reach the base.

“Your fur is thicker than I remember.”

Shawn nudges his head against you again and this time you do fall back onto your butt. The soft snow breaks your fall for the most part. Shawn flops down beside you, laying his head across your stomach.  

“You're way too big,” you laugh, struggling to sit up then running your hands through his fur on his back. “Does the snow feel good?”

Shawn wiggles around on to his back, wallowing in the snow. He may not like being called a puppy but damn if he didn't act like one.

You stand up and he flips over to stand as well. You know he wants you to come out into the woods with him, he always did. It wasn't like there was much for you to do, he just likes the company. Shawn takes off for the trees again and you trudge through the thick snow after him.

An hour or so passes and you're exhausted. Between the energy spent walking through the snow and entertaining Shawn, you're completely wiped out. Shawn likes to chase you in the woods, it is his favorite game actually. When there wasn't snow it wasn't too bad, you could actually try to run. With the snow as thick as it is, it's like running through molasses.

Shawn runs up behind you, nudges you with his head or nips at your hand. That means you should run. So you do, well you try. Running is more like a lopsided hurdle that gets you no distance at all. Shawn circles you, staying away like he's stalking his prey from a distance until he decides to pounce. When he does he comes running at you, leaping through the snow until he gets to you and licks at your face instead or knocking you down like he usually does. This goes on over and over again, running and stalking then licking, until you wave your arms, signalling you give up.

__________________

Once back at the house you step into the kitchen through the back door and Shawn follows you. He shakes off and you glare at him. The snow flies everywhere and you are not cleaning that up. You turn your back, not wanting to watch Shawn shift back to his human form. You had seen it twice and both times it was disturbing enough that you didn't want to witness it ever again.

“You're good,” Shawn says softly and you turn around. He is naked, stepping into his boxers he left on the stool before shifting earlier. His skin is pinkened, a result of being out too long even in his wolf form.

“You look cold,” you chuckle, stepping out of your coveralls. “Like maybe you could use some snuggles.”

“I'm a little chilly. I may have rolled in a little too much snow,” he says sheepishly. He walks over to the fridge and opens it, grabbing a plate of leftovers from last night and putting it in the microwave. It's chicken and pasta with steamed vegetables but only enough for you to get full on probably. He was always starving after a run.

You hang up your winter gear and go to wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your face into his back and kissing his light colored birthmarks between his shoulder blades. “How about you go put some clothes on and I'll make some more food. There isn't much on that plate.”

“Can I have more chicken?”

“Yes, we have plenty.”

“Do we have any of the popcorn shrimp left?”

You laugh. Of course he would want both. “Yes. I'll make both. Go get dressed.” You kiss his back once more and give him a little shove.

“Don't act like you don't want all of this,” he says, tossing you a cheeky smile as he walks toward the stairs.

“Later big guy.”

“I'll hold you to that!” He yells as he heads to the bedroom upstairs.

__________________

Half an hour later and Shawn is full and content, stretched out across the couch while you watch the holiday baking championship together. You're sitting with your legs out on the giant ottoman that is pushed flush to the couch, blanket on your lap with Shawn's head resting on your thighs. It's his favorite way to snuggle aside from laying on top of you and squishing you within an inch of your life. But he's too full for that now.

“Who do you think would win in a bake off, me or you?”

“Really?” You chuckle. “Are you actually asking me that?”

“I can bake,” he says defiantly, looking up at you.

“You can burn.”

“Is that a challenge?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Name one thing you've ever baked.”

“A bun.”

“A bun?”

Shawn turns and presses his face against your stomach. “A bun in the oven.”

“Are you- Shawn, how did you know?”

“I just know,” he mumbles, hiding his face against your stomach.

You run your hand through his hair and tug a little so he will look at you. “I was gonna surprise you tomorrow with the news.”

His cheeks are pink, splotchy and flushed like they get when he is drunk or embarrassed as he avoids eye contact, looking down at your shirt instead. “I noticed last week.”

“Mmhmm. How'd you notice? I've been hiding it so well.”

“You smell different. Not weird, but different. I noticed when we took a bath together.”

“I guess can't hide my scent.” You chuckle and Shawn nuzzles your tummy. “Is the baby why you were less pouncy then you usually are when you're shifted?”

“Yes, I didn't wanna hurt you or the baby. I'm sorry I knocked you down anyway, I forget how big I am compared to you.”

“It's okay, I think the tiny little baby to be can survive a small tumble backwards into the snow.”

“Okay good, I was a little worried. Are we going to tell my parents tomorrow? Because I don't think I can keep a secret like this for very long. I've been dying to keep from telling you that I knew.”

You laugh. No wonder he was itching to shift. He had probably been driving himself up a wall he was so excited and trying to stay quiet. You won't make him go any crazier than he already had gone. “Yes, we can tell your parents.”

Shawn presses his nose into your tummy once more and growls. “Merry Christmas baby.”

You smile and run your hand through his hair and he begins to fall asleep, face still pressed against you. “Merry Christmas bud.”

____________

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog and share! Also please let me know what you think! What’s your favorite part(s)? Would you like to see more werewolf christmas stories? 

Reblog and Let Me Know! Thank you!!!!

[cutaepatootie]

Cold Iced Americano - 02

Pairing: Yoongi | Reader Genre: underground rapper yoongi | fluff | angst | smut | humor Word Count: 28k

→ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Warnings: again, sarcasm and humor. Oral sex. Explicit sex. Language. Yoongi rapping Never Mind and sending our wigs flying out of the window.

A/N: this is the second part ashdjkags it’s a monster! It’s the longest part out of all them, I swear. Enjoy!

During summer you kept contact with Max, Seulgi and the boys, texting non-stop through the group chat or facetiming Max and Seulgi. But you had been away visiting your family, and you hadn’t seen any of them. Facetiming and texting weren’t the same as having a conversation face to face.

So, to say that you weren’t excited that September night, would be an understatement.

You happily knocked on the door of Taehyung’s apartment and waited for it to open, playing with the pan that contained the carrot cake you had baked that morning in your hands.

As you were bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet, the door opened and all you saw was a fluffy ball of hair being shoved in your face.

“O-oh, whoa,” you laughed, trying to hold the pan with both hands so it wouldn��t fall. “What’s this?”

You took a step back so your eyes could focus properly on the unidentified object that had been shoved right in front of them

“This? This is Yeontan,” the deep voice of Taehyung said from behind that fluffy ball of hair.

Finally, you could see properly the image in front of you.

There he was, Taehyung with one of his most radiant smiles, all honey skin and soft curls and boxy smile, his eyes glistening as he held his new puppy in front of you. He looked like Rafiki showing Simba to the entire savannah.

“Aww!” you couldn’t help but exclaim, seeing the cute puppy in front of you. “Hi, Yeontan! Here, grab it.”

You handed out the pan to Taehyung as he put the dog in your arms. Immediately, the puppy started licking your cheeks happily as he wiggled his tail.

“Oh, hey buddy,” you said, putting one of those obnoxious and high-pitched voices people usually put when they’re talking to a puppy. “How are you? Nice to meet you!”

“He’s my son!” Taehyung clapped, observing with a proud look how his ‘son’ showed you all his love.

“Well, he’s a beautiful and precious son, isn’t he?” you cooed, cradling the puppy in your arms and looking at him with adoring eyes. “He’s the cutest.”

“Yeah, he is,” Taehyung said while looking at you two, almost drooling at how cute you looked giving small kisses to Yeontan.

“Who is it –“ another voice said from behind Taehyung, its owner hidden behind the tall form of the boy. “Oh my God! Y/N!”

Seulgi appeared from behind Taehyung and, ignoring the puppy in your arms, engulfed you in a tight hug. The dog squealed a bit, feeling the pressure of both your chest asphyxiating him.

“Of course it’s you, who else would stay here petting some dog instead of coming inside to greet the friends they hadn’t seen in two months?!” Seulgi said as she tightened his hold over your body.

You laughed and tried to save the puppy from Seulgi’s sudden supernatural strength.

“Ahh…” you laughed. “I can’t breathe.”

“My son!” Taehyung screamed at the same time, horrified by the soft barks of the dog. “You’re gonna kill him.”

Taehyung’s big hands held Seulgi’s shoulders and quickly pulled her away from you and away from his precious son.

Taehyung then glared at Seulgi after placing the pan with your carrot cake back in your hands and disappeared inside the apartment petting the puppy and kissing his little nose.

“Did they hurt you? Did aunty Seulgi nearly kill you?” he pouted into the dog’s ear.

When you averted your eyes from Taehyung, Seulgi was still looking at him with her nose scrunched up.

“I’ve never seen something like this before,” she grumbled.

“I missed you too,” you said, raising your brows as you waited for Seulgi to stop grumbling.

She widened her eyes as she heard your words and hugged you back.

“Me too! I’ve missed you a lot,” she nearly screamed in your ear, making you wince. But, despite that, you smiled and hugged her tightly.

You broke the hug to take a good look at her.

“Uhh, girl, your skin is tanned, glowing and you look… Happy? Are you in love? With a certain Park Jim–hmpf.”

You couldn’t finish Jimin’s name, because as soon as you started to articulate the word, Seulgi clasped her hand over your mouth.

“Shut up,” she growled, whispering through clenched teeth.

“Hmpf…” you tried to say, impossible mission with Seulgi’s hand covering your lips.

From what you knew – or what Seulgi had told you – she and Jimin had seen each other during summer a couple of times, nothing too serious, just the regular hook up. But something in the way her eyes glinted through the screen of your phone, miles away from you as you spoke via FaceTime, told you Park Jimin meant more than just a hook-up for Kang Seulgi.

“You-Know-Who is in here, so you better not mention him and I in the same sentence or I’ll kill you. Understood?”

You nodded, trying to stop yourself from laughing at how your friend’s cheeks had reddened, and her pupils had dilated in pure fear.

“Y/N!” Max appeared, shouting as she ran towards the both of you making Seulgi take her hands off of you.

She threw a last warning glare your way before letting you hug Max.

Taehyung’s apartment smelled just like him, like soft detergent and… Was it dog food? You guessed you would have to get used to the new scent, since Taehyung had a new flatmate. Whatever it was, it smelled like Taehyung, like your friends and you smiled as you realised just how much you had missed.

It wouldn’t be the same as the previous year, for Namjoon and Hoseok had graduated and you wouldn’t see them around campus anymore, Seokjin had opened his restaurant and he would be busy with it, Taehyung and Jimin where in their last year of university and… Well, they probably wouldn’t be too busy, but they should. But despite all that, you were sure you would still be close.

“Hey!” you greeted everyone as you walked down the small corridor and entered the living room, where everyone was seated around the place, some on the couch, others on Taehyung’s strange pouffes dispersed across the room.

“Y/N!” they all shouted in unison.

You suddenly were engulfed in a big hug, arms surrounding you everywhere, some tickling you and making you laugh.

They all looked the same, and as you hugged each one of them individually, you couldn’t help but start feeling at home once again.

“Joon,” you said, smiling as Namjoon surrounded your waist with his arms.

Out of all the boys, Namjoon was the one you had bonded with the most. You loved them all, but Namjoon was special to you. From day one, you two had perfectly clicked together. You could have any conversation with him, he listened to everything you had to say, he made you laugh when you needed it the most and he laughed at your stupid jokes. You sometimes thought that what was between you two was more than platonic, but then you would remember his cute dimples and the thought would disappear. He was like a big brother to you.

“I see you haven’t changed at all,” he smirked, breaking the hug and taking a step back so he could look at you properly.

“It’s only been two months,” you laughed.

Speaking about changes… After you greeted Namjoon, you approached the coffee table to grab a drink, your eyes landing on a figure that was slumped on the couch.

There he was, Min Yoongi, looking less like Min Yoongi and more like Wednesday Addams with blonde hair. You frowned at the drastic change, Min Yoongi’s previous black hair now an almost white-ish colour that blended perfectly with his pale skin but contrasted harshly against his black clothes.

He hadn’t greeted you and was immersed – as always – on his phone. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being left alone and in peace.

“Nice hair,” you said, making his attention snap from the screen of his phone to you. He scowled. “Sunbathed so much the sun ate away all the colour from your hair?”

You knew the last thing Yoongi had been doing that summer had been sunbathing, his skin as pale as milk.

“It’s called bleach, buy yourself a dictionary,” he snapped back.

“No thanks, I’m not interested in bleach, I’m not planning on frying my hair and becoming bald for now, but maybe I’ll think about it in the future.”

“Good, then do me a favour and buy a nice and big beanie to cover your bald head, and face too, I wouldn’t like to see you and die from a heart attack.”

“Ah…” you said, faking your best smile as you brought a hand to your chest. “How generous of you. Thanks, I know I could pull off any look, even the bald one, but saying it would cause you a heart attack… That’s a huge compliment.”

“It wouldn’t be a good heart attack,” he said in a mocking tone. “It would be the kind of heart attack that makes you want to puke your heart and then throw it in the bin so you can rest in peace.”

“Whoa, is that a new kind of heart attack?” you ironically said. “I’ve never heard of it, must be terrible…”

“Tell me about it, I suffer it every time I see you,” he bitterly answered.

You smirked, grabbing yourself a plastic cup from the table and pouring some lemonade on it. You were letting go of the small bickering from now, not wanting to waste your entire night on him when you could be catching up with your friends. From the relieved sighs of the people that surrounded you, they were also grateful you wouldn’t be wasting your night like that.

Soon, all of you were distributed in between Taehyung’s couch, the floor and a pair of pouffes he owned. Yeontan sat happily in your lap as you petted his small ears.

You felt at home once again, surrounded by the people you loved. The thought of you almost hating all of them just a year ago making you laugh.

“So, how’s the life of a graduated man?” you asked Namjoon, watching him pouring another drink for himself.

He shrugged, smiling a bit. “Hmm… I would say it’s cool, interesting… But it’s as boring as it has always been for me.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I don’t believe you, finishing your career and becoming an adult should be fun.”

“Well, when you’re Kim Namjoon, it isn’t.”

You snickered. “I’m sure you’re hiding something… Or should I say someone?”

At that, Namjoon started coughing, the sip he had taken of his drink going down the wrong path.

“Oh my God!” you started clapping happily, jumping on the couch repeatedly. “I hit the nail on the head! You’re seeing someone!”

“Lower your voice, would you?” Namjoon said through clenched teeth, grabbing you from your shoulders to stop you from jumping.

“Okay,” you repeated, now in a whisper. “You’re seeing someone.”

Namjoon tried to hide his smile, but it was impossible when it came to you.

“Shh,” he silenced you. “I haven’t told anyone yet, and I’m not sure I want to tell anyone until I see where it’s going.”

“Omg, yass,” you kept squealing, placing your hand over your mouth to prevent you from screaming out of happiness. “Who is she? What’s her name? How did you meet her? How is she like?! Does she know you have a ridiculously huge collection of Ryan bears? Have you already gone on a date?!”

“Oh Gosh, what’s this? An interrogatory?”

You arched a brow, teasing him. “Do you want it to be? Because I can – “

“No, no, don’t interrogate me now, please,” he said, looking around him and making sure no one was paying attention to the two of you. “I’ll tell you everything, just don’t squeal.”

You nodded and were about to say that you would stay calm when Hoseok’s voice interrupted you.

“Hey! Everyone! Stop what you’re doing and listen to me!” he said, standing up and dragging a very-ashamed-looking Yoongi with him.

You observed Yoongi fulminating Hoseok with his gaze and had to bite your lip to stop you from laughing, having been in the receiving end of Yoongi’s glares many times before.

“Yoongi has something important to tell you,” Hoseok kept saying, ignoring Yoongi and his glares.

After patting Yoongi’s back and whispering a ‘you’ll thank me later’, he took a seat on the couch.

“Err…” Yoongi mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

He threw a glance towards you out of the corner of his eye and you answered arching your brow. Yoongi was not the shy type – more on the quiet side – so you didn’t understand why he was behaving like that all of the sudden.

“I finally decided to sign un for this year’s Verse Battle,” he said after a few seconds.

All of the sudden, all the boys stood up from their respective seats, clapping and cheering loudly. Yeontan, scared, jumped on your lap and hid behind your arms.

Yoongi disappeared from your visual field, surrounded by all other six boys, patting his back and shouting his name.

When they were satisfied with their strange celebration, they let Yoongi breathe and walked back to their seats, leaving a flustered Yoongi staying in the middle of Taehyung’s living room. He ruffled his already messy hair and sat back on his seat on the couch, next to Hoseok.

“Whoa, that’s great Yoongi,” Seulgi said before you could ask Namjoon what the heck had that been. “But, what was all that fuss about?”

Jimin placed his hand on Seulgi’s thigh and your eyes widened.

“We’ve been trying to convince Yoongi to sign up for the yearly rap battle held in Verse for years,” Jimin explained.

“Talent scouts from different records attend the rap battles and sometimes sign contracts with the underground rappers,” Hoseok continued, nodding his head.

“Oh my God!” Max clapped, smiling at Yoongi. “But that’s great! Why have you never signed up before?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Those things are bullshit. Yeah, sure, talent scouts go there and all that, but all those rappers do when they sign those contracts is lose their essence. I don’t want that to happen to me.”

“So why are you signing up now?” you asked, not being able to stop yourself.

Yoongi glared your way. “Because I want to,” he spat.

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t press it any further.

“It’s because he’s tired of hearing us blabbering about the annual rap battles and all that,” Hoseok joked, elbowing Yoongi on the side. “He just wants us to shut up.”

“That’s another plus, not gonna lie,” Yoongi said.

“I’m so glad you finally signed up for that, man,” Namjoon said. “You’ll make it big, I can already feel it.”

“Sure,” Yoongi chuckled sarcastically.

“Hey, we’re not joking! I have a feeling that something big is going to happen to you, Yoongs,” Seulgi smiled at him. “And I’m usually right with my feelings, trust me.”

You caught glimpse of a soft blush spreading through Yoongi’s cheeks before he could lower his head and hide it from everyone. You would have thought it was a cute reaction, had it not been for the person who was having that reaction. He was Min Yoongi, and he was everything but cute… At least to you.

Yoongi smiled a bit and lifted his eyes to stare at Seulgi.

“When’s the first battle?” Max asked.

“In two weeks, Friday night at Verse,” Yoongi said, taking a sip from his beer. “You’re all invited.”

He looked all around Taehyung’s living room, staring at each person. But once his eyes landed on you, his expression hardened.

“Well, not all,” he added, shrugging and looking away from you.

You didn’t know why, nor did you know how, but his words hurt you. It hurt you that he always excluded you from the group, making you feel lonely and uncomfortable, sometimes even unwanted, as if you weren’t welcomed in the group. You wished you knew why he hated you so much, because you couldn’t believe someone would hate other person just because they spilled their iced americano by accident. And, no matter how many times you had repeated yourself that you didn’t care, you did care, because you had seen him interacting with the others and he wasn’t that bad. He was just that way with you.

Not wanting to show anyone how you were feeling, and how much his behaviour affected you, you did what you usually did, what you knew how to do best. You took a deep breath and, as you rolled your eyes, you answered back.

“Nor that I wanted to,” you spat. “Thank God you said it, I didn’t want to seem rude when I didn’t show up at Verse to watch that stupid rap battle.”

He snickered, but kept his gaze away from you.

“Y/N…” Seulgi warned you.

“What?” you turned to look at her. “It’s the truth. Those things are all bullshit, he was right. If he thinks that he will get some stupid contract with a super big and famous record brand in that place, singing songs about loyalty, power and money, then he’s just as stupid as the rap battles themselves.”

“Y/N!” Seulgi exclaimed.

“You’re not the most suitable person to talk about bullshit and stupidity,” Yoongi spat, not being able to contain himself anymore. “Or have you forgotten that you’re studying something your mom wants you to study instead of following your stupid dream of being a writer?”

Your eyes narrowed at his words until they formed two small slits and you could swear your heart stopped for a second, your face turning pale and all your blood rushing to your feet. How could he be so cruel?

“Yoongi,” Namjoon said, trying to stop the imminent fight.

“What?” he asked, eyes still focused on yours. “It’s the truth.”

“Hey!” Taehyung chimed in, trying to avert the conversation to another topic. “Who wants to play Mario Kart?”

“Me!” Jungkook and the rest started to exclaim, happy that Taehyung had given them a way out of that conversation.

You and Yoongi kept staring at each other, though, defying one another. In a passive-aggressive silence, you focused your eyes on his black, small ones, as sharp and fierce as him.

Eventually, you scoffed and, shaking your head, turned your eyes away from him. It was not likely of you to refuse playing Mario Kart, but you spent the rest of the night sitting on the couch with your arms crossed and your lips pursed. Just like Yoongi.

. . .

True to your words, you didn’t show up at Yoongi’s first show at the Rap Battle at Verse.

You were bitter, bitter over his words and his behavior towards you. It’s true that you weren’t the nicest person on Earth towards him either, but you had tried to be his friend at the beginning.

Maybe you and Min Yoongi were never meant to be friends from the beginning.

But, despite your bitterness and Yoongi’s rap battles, life carried on, and time went by in a blur of exams, group expositions in class and visits to different museums. You heard from your friends that Yoongi was doing good at the rap battles. It wasn’t shocking to you, he was really good at it.

Some Friday nights, while sitting on the bed of your dorm and eating cheesecake ice cream, knowing that the rest of your friends were at Verse supporting Yoongi, you doubted if you should dress yourself up and just go. Grab a taxi and tell the driver to drive you to Verse. Just to stand at the back of the old bar and watch him, hear him. It had been such a long time since you had last seen Yoongi rap that you didn’t even remember how he looked on stage, how he sounded.

You yearned to remember all that.

But then, you remembered that you should keep your head held high. He didn’t want you there supporting him, nor did he want you there watching him like a creep from the back of the bar.

No, it wouldn’t be a good idea, so you just stayed at home and let the weeks pass.

You had just handed out your essay on The Court of the Lions at the Alhambra of Granada for your Islamic Art class, which meant one thing: Christmas Holidays. You couldn’t help but smile as you walked through the corridors of the Arts building. You were a free woman, all the time in the world just for yourself.

You were walking through the corridors of the – almost – empty Arts building with a stupid smile on your face. You had left your headphones at the dorm that morning, too engrossed in your essay to care, and it was rare to find you walking alone without music on. But, somehow, that morning you were enjoying the quietness of campus.

Everything was deserted, so calm and clean.

It was when you stepped into the main corridor of the building, when you heard sounds coming from the assembly hall of the building.

If you had been wearing your headphones, peacefully minding your own business and listening to music, you wouldn’t have cared. But it was all so quiet that you were curious about that melodic sound.

The more you approached the half-closed door of the assembly hall, the more those sounds started morphing into music. Piano. Someone was playing the piano.

When you reached the door, you stayed behind it, eyes closed as you let the tranquil melody carry you away. You didn’t know who was playing, but it sounded beautiful. You were sure it was Ludovico Einaudi, no one could make such soft and paused melodies.

Una Mattina.

You slowly opened the door of the assembly hall and walked inside it, taking a seat on one of the theatre seats at the back of the room. The people who were on top of the scenario wouldn’t be able to see you from there.

It was when you were thinking if it would look creepy observing them from afar, when you noticed something.

You knew the person who was playing the piano.

You knew that blonde, nearly white, hair. That black leather jacket and pale skin, that slumped and small frame.

You had to blink a few times to let yourself sink it all in.

Yeah, it was Min Yoongi who was playing the piano, who was playing Una Mattina in such a delicate way. Yes. Min Yoongi. The same boy who rapped one Friday night per month at some shitty bar. The same boy whose words sounded like a slap in your face when he rapped them on top of a scenario. The same boy who was rude and harsh and brutal. The same boy drove you up the wall each time you met. The same boy who liked bitter iced americano. The same boy who listened to Kendrick Lamar through his headphones so loud that you were sure his eardrums would explode at any moment.

Your eyes wide, you watched Yoongi’s back raising and falling each time he travelled across the piano keys to make another note.

The girl sitting by his side was observing his every move, so quiet and still that it looked like she was afraid of missing a single detail.

The notes travelled across the assembly hall and reached your ears, creating a weird feeling in your body. It made you feel at peace, at home. The way Min Yoongi played the piano tasted like one of your chai tea lattes, with lots of cinnamon and brown sugar. It sounded like Billie Marten’s voice, like rain in a Sunday morning. It sounded like everything you had ever wished.

It was pure magic.

You don’t know if you stayed there observing him play the piano for ten minutes or twelve hours. It could have easily been twelve hours, for you were so mesmerized that the passing of time didn’t exist for you anymore.

Suddenly the music stopped and Una Mattina came to an end.

“Whoa,” you heard the girl say. She was breathless, just like you.

Yoongi smiled at her shyly.

“Have you now seen what I told you?” he began to say. “You have to let your body travel with the music, almost as if your whole body followed your fingers.”

“But I can’t do that, I’m too focused on the melody and reaching every note.”

You could see Yoongi shaking his head, his mass of white hair dancing in the air.

“Anyone could ace any partiture, reach every note, but not everyone can reach the audience. And people don’t pay to listen to music, believe me, they pay to watch a spectacle,” his voice was soft and relaxed, just like his posture. “They want you to blend in with the music. If they just wanted to hear a perfect melody, they would play the song on Spotify at their houses.”

A short pause filled the assembly hall, Yoongi and the girl just staring at each other. Your cheeks reddening out of the sudden, feeling as if you were witnessing something too intimate, something you shouldn’t be witnessing.

You started gathering your things trying not to make any noise.

“I wish I could be as talented as you are…” the girl sighed.

You heard Yoongi laugh softly and he stood up from the small bench placed in front of the grand piano. He grabbed his partitures and fixed his hair.

“I wasn’t born with it, I worked hard for it,” he shrugged. “If you work hard, you’ll make it far one day.”

You stood up from your seat and, quietly, made your way towards the main door. Fuck, if someone saw you like that, crouched down and trying to sneak out of the assembly hall where the boy you despised was being all nice and kind to some girl, your reputation would be in the trash can right next to Oscar from Sesame Street.

“That’s been all for today,” Yoongi said. “Work in the partiture I’ve given you during the holidays. When we come back, I want to hear passion, nor notes.”

In a quick movement, you opened the door and ran out of that place. You were sure they had heard you, but at least no one had seen you.

It wasn’t until you were out of campus and entering your dorm, that you relaxed. You knew Yoongi worked as a particular music teacher at university for those who needed some extra classes about music theory and technique, but you didn’t know… Fuck, you didn’t know he was that kind of teacher. The one that touched you deep and taught you lessons about life. You had pictured him as the typical bitter teacher. But that… Fuck.

You guessed Min Yoongi was only nice when it came to his number one passion: music.

. . .

Your black bomber jacket was doing nothing against the cold wind that blew through the streets of the city that night, so you walked faster towards the entrance of the restaurant after you hopped off the bus.

Hands in the pockets of the jacket, you walked inside the small Japanese restaurant called Ninja.

You had been there a couple of times before, with Max and Seulgi. The man who owned the place was a friend of Seulgi’s parents, so he always kept a small table unoccupied for the three of you.

That day, he would have to keep more than one table unoccupied.

It had been Seulgi’s idea that the group met for dinner before Christmas Holidays. Seulgi and Max would go home to visit their families. Seokjin would be busy with his restaurant, and Namjoon had some sort of business trip. Hoseok was getting everything ready for the opening of his dance studio after the holidays, and Jimin and Taehyung were going on a roadtrip to Busan. And wel… Yoongi… You didn’t know – nor cared about – what he was going to do.

You, in particular, wanted to save some money because you were planning a trip to Paris with the girls that summer, so you had decided to stay at the dorms and find some part-time job at a Bershka store. You would visit your parents on Christmas Day, but nothing else.

Cinnamon candles all over your dorm room, cozy blankets and The Lord of The Rings marathons… It sounded like the best of plans.

“Did you have a reservation, Miss?” the boy at the entrance of the restaurant said once he saw you standing like that, scanning the place in search of a loud mass of people.

But the restaurant was almost empty, being only eight o’clock in the afternoon. No crowd, no loud group of people, just couples all over the place. Ugh.

“Yeah,” you said.

“Sure,” the boy nodded, opening a small notebook. “Could you tell me the name of the reservation?”

“Seulgi, Kang Seulgi.”

The boy searched in his notebook, his pointer finger travelling across the pages, searching amongst the different names.

“Here it is, Kang Seulgi,” he said after some seconds, staring up at you with a bright smile on his face. “Follow me, please.”

You nodded with your head softly, following the boy around the restaurant after he grabbed two menus from a table.

He led you upstairs, where there was a more private area with cherry blossoms painted on the walls, paper doors separating the different booths and small dark wooden tables.

“Here it is,” the waiter said, opening a paper door for you and letting you in.

“Thank you,” you politely said, entering the small booth.

You had expected your friends to be there already, you had been running a bit late. But it was completely empty.

You frowned when the waiter handed you only two menus and when you saw the dimensions of the booth. It was impossible that the ten of you would enter there.

Nevertheless, you shrugged and took off your shoes, seating on one of the cushions displayed on the floor around the round wooden table. Maybe they didn’t have that many menus and he could only give you two, and the restaurant was small, it wasn’t their fault that you were ten people.

You sent a quick message to the groupchat, telling them that you were already there and that they should be proud of you, you had been the first one to arrive for once. A few minutes passed and no one answered. No one had shown up yet, and all you could do was drink from the glass of water you had ordered and reread the menu for the tenth time.

Finger hovering above Seulgi’s contact, you hear noises behind the paper door. Two figures appeared and you straightened up. Maybe they were starting to arrive.

“Here it is, Miss Kang is already waiting for you inside,” you heard the same waiter that had led you to the booth say.

Miss Kang? What the f –?

The door opened and your eyes met with a pair of dark and sharp ones. You gulped, observing how Min Yoongi took a step inside the booth as the waiter closed the door behind him.

“Has no one else arrived yet?” Yoongi asked, still not taking off his shoes nor his coat.

“No, just me,” you answered, frowning.

You would have answered something a bit more sarcastic, but your mind was too busy thinking about other things.

It was weird, like, really weird, that the two people that always arrived late, had arrived the first ones. It was also weird that Seulgi, Max and Taehyung had read your message in the groupchat and none of them had answered.

You narrowed your eyes.

“The waiter called me Kang Seulgi?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded, taking off his coat and shoes and taking a seat on the opposite side of the room. “Maybe he thought you were the one who had made the reservation.”

“It could be…” you hesitantly said. “But… Something seems a bit off.”

Yoongi shrugged, but you could see he was tense.

“I’ll call Seulgi.”

And you called her. One time, two, three… Nearly five, and she never picked up. Just when you were about to call a sixth time, a notification popped in the middle of the screen of your phone.

It was a message in the groupchat.

Seulgi´s Husband [20:34] sorry guys, I won’t be able to make it tonight :((((

Seulgi’s Husband [20:34] eat some good onigiris for me!

Taeee [20:34] i won’t be able to make it either :((( yeontan is sick

Jinnie [20:35] the restaurant is packed tonight

Jinnie [20:35] can’t leave my associate alone

Seulgs [20:35] it’s also impossible for me

Seulgs [20:35] stomach issues

Maximiliana [20:36] i must have eaten something bad 2 bc i feel like shit

Maximiliana [20:36] i’ll just stay in bed all night long…

Hobi [20:36] i forgot that today the electrician would come to the studio to set the lights :(

Joon [20:37] i forgot that my plane leaves at five in the morning

Joon [20:37] sorry guys, but i need to take some beauty sleep

JK [20:38] busy playing resident evil xo

JK [20:38] can’t leave the story like this, sxrry

“What?” you exclaimed after reading the messages, eyes wide. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Yoongi frowned at you, taking his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and reading the groupchat. His eyes widened just like yours had done, a thread of curses falling from his lips.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Seulgi,” you said, furiously pressing your finger over her contact and pressing call. “She’s going to hear me.”

“Jimin will pay me for this…” Yoongi said, gritting his teeth as he locked his phone and put it on top of the table.

Unsurprisingly, Seulgi didn’t answer. They were probably at some other bar laughing at how stupid the two of you were and how silly you must look.

“They tricked us,” you scoffed, throwing your phone over the table. “Those bastards… What did Jimin tell you?”

“He called me yesterday saying that Seulgi had planned a nice dinner for the ten of us in here,” he said, his voice as tense as yours. “Said she hadn’t said anything in the groupchat because it had been something spontaneous.”

“Same bullshit Seulgi told me… Those fuckers…”

“I’m going to rip Jimin’s head off, I swear,” Yoongi sighed, combing his hair with his fingers. “Agh.”

You rested your head on your hands, not believing that you had been victim of a treason like that. Your friends had banded together to get you and Min Yoongi alone. You forgave, but you never forgot.

“Well, if this is it,” Yoongi said, breaking the small silence that had filled the booth. “I’m gonna leave now.”

You lifted your eyes to stare at him. And he was even leaving you there on your own! You had been betrayed in every way a person could be betrayed.

You gaped like a fish out of water, staring at Yoongi as he stood up to grab his coat and shoes.

The paper door opened, making you and Yoongi stare at the waiter, who was holding a small notebook in his hands and carrying a soft smile on his face. Yoongi stilled, stopping his movements.

“Do you know your orders already?” the waiter asked.

You just stared at him, in complete silence. Yoongi did the same.

“Oh, fuck it,” you heard him mumble before throwing his coat and shoes to the ground once again and plopping down on one of the cushions. “I’d like a bottle of wine.”

The waiter nodded, a bit taken aback by the weird atmosphere.

“What kind?”

“Red,” Yoongi said. “The biggest bottle you have.”

The waiter then looked at you, as if waiting for your answer.

“Er…” you stuttered, mind completely blank. “I’m good with my bottle of water for now, thanks.”

The boy nodded and disappeared, closing the paper door behind his back.

“You’re going to stay?” you asked.

Yoongi stared at you.

“Not because of you,” he scoffed. “After coming here, with the effort of bringing the car and all that, I better make the most out of it. At least I’ll drink some wine.”

You scoffed back and took a sip from your glass of water. It was surrealistic. All of it.

You were sitting in a beautiful Japanese restaurant with fucking Min Yoongi right in front of you, it was one of your worst nightmares become true.

After some awkward minutes in silence, the waiter reappeared with Yoongi’s bottle of red wine.

“Thanks,” he mumbled under his breath, the waiter disappearing once again.

You watched Yoongi pour some wine inside his glass.

“You want some?” he asked, briefly looking up at you.

“No thanks, I’d rather stay sober tonight.”

“Well, I’d rather not,” he mumbled once again, taking a long sip from his glass afterwards.

You rolled your eyes, sighing loudly. You could just stand up and go… So why weren’t you doing just so?

You opened the menu once again and started reading it… For the hundredth time? If he was going to make the most out of it, you would too.

“I think I’ll have some tuna onigiris and miso ramen,” you said.

You wanted to say it to yourself, but instead, you said it out loud.

“You’re going to eat?”

“Are you planning on staying here and just drinking wine? I’m willing to make the most out of this too.”

As if to emphasize your words, you closed the menu and leaned back. He just stared at you, his glass of red wine still resting on his right hand.

“How do we call the waiter? Do I have to open the door and shout or something?”

Yoongi looked incredulous after hearing your words.

“You’ve never come here before?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I’ve never been in a booth.”

Yoongi raised his brows and pointed at a small red button in the middle of the round table.

“You just have to press that button.”

“And he will come?”

“That’s how it worked the last time I came here.”

You shrugged and pressed the red button. A few minutes later, the waiter appeared with his small notebook in his hands.

“I’ll have the miso ramen and tuna onigiris.”

He nodded, writing down your order in his notebook.

“Same for me, please,” Yoongi said out of nowhere, handing the waiter both of your menus.

The waiter nodded again and retired with a soft bow.

“What?” Yoongi snapped once he caught you staring at him. “I have to eat to counteract the effect of the wine.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want to stay sober tonight?” you frowned.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he shrugged. “If I can’t put up with you sober, imagine drunk. I’m a pessimistic drunk, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “You’re a pessimistic person in general, not just when drunk.”

“Hmm… True.”

You shook your head. “And you don’t get tired of it? Of always seeing the bad side of things?”

“There’s only one side of things, and that’s the side I see, simple as that.”

You scoffed. “What a shitty perspective of life, then.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“I don’t have a specific perspective of life to be honest, I just see how things are as I go.”

“That’s also really shitty.”

“But is better than yours,” you snapped back.

“Maybe… To you.”

You let out a deep breath. “I don’t even know why I stayed here. The miso ramen better be delicious tonight.”

“Pretty mediocre,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. “I know a place where the ramen is way better, and cheaper. But of course, someone like you would prefer a beautiful place than serves mediocre food than a mediocre place that serves wonderful food.”

“Someone like me? It’s Seulgi who made the reservations.”

“Yeah, but I don’t care about that. Did I ask you who made the reservations?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I am.”

Luckily, your food arrived before you could rip each other’s heads off. The ramen was mediocre, just like Yoongi had said, but you shut up your mouth like a big girl and continued eating.

Halfway during dinner, you finished your glass of water. Seeing Yoongi’s cheeks so red was making you envious, and suddenly, you wanted to drink some wine too and feel drunk and forget about the fucking horrendous situation you were in.

Without saying anything you reached across the table and grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring some in your glass and drinking it all almost immediately. Yoongi stared at you in silence.

Glass after glass, you started to feel your back relaxing and your mood clearing.

“Fuck, this wine’s good,” you said, taking another sip after swallowing the bite of onigiri you had in your mouth.

Yoongi had been staring at you most of the time, the same incredulous expression on his face. His ramen was now cold in its bowl, and his tuna onigiri had been forgotten.

“It sure is good, it costs one hundred the bottle.”

You spit the sip of wine that was in your mouth. Luckily it landed inside the bowl of ramen.

“One hundred?! What the fuck?” you frowned.

Yoongi looked grossed out by what you had just done, staring at your bowl of ramen with a disgusted expression on his face.

“I drink only the best.”

“But weren’t you a poor piano teacher by day and underground rapper by night? Are you also a drug lord like Pablo Escobar or something? There’s no way a normal person can afford a bottle of wine that costs one hundred bucks.”

Yoongi shrugged. “I’d rather spend one hundred in a bottle of good wine that spend them in shitty things that I don’t need.”

You raised your brows. “Oh wow.”

After some seconds in silence, you spoke again. Fuck, you should have ordered another bottle of water instead of drinking from that expensive as fuck bottle of wine.

“But, don’t you think it’s a bit stupid that you’re paying one hundred bucks for some grapes smashed in a random barrel? I don’t know, I think it’s a bit gross… I even saw there are places where they smash grapes with their feet. Ew!”

“If it’s so gross, stop drinking it.”

“We could catch some papilloma. Imagine it, some huge Spanish guy walking inside a barrel full of grapes, barefoot as his feet smash the grapes.”

“You know that wine stopped being made like that hundreds of years ago, don’t you? Now the one that smashes grapes is a machine.”

“So, you’re paying one hundred bucks to drink some grapes smashed by a machine.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I’m only paying fifty if you continue drinking from my bottle.”

“I only have thirty bucks, so unless you want to run away from here without paying, you’ll have to pay for it. Besides, if I had known it costed that much, I would have never drunk from it in the first place.”

Yoongi scoffed, but said nothing. You removed your remaining noodles with your chopsticks, suddenly bursting out laughing.

“Why are you laughing now?”

You kept laughing, wiping some tears away as your stomach began hurting.

“Because I… Aish… Because…” you couldn’t finish your sentence, more laughs emerging from your throat. “I… Because I’ve just realized I spat a hundred bucks’ wine inside a bowl of fifteen bucks’ ramen.”

After watching Yoongi’s expression of confusion, you started laughing even harder, your left hand coming down on the table to hit it repeatedly.

“You get it? I spat wine that costs a hundred dollars inside a bowl of ramen that costs fifteen! Isn’t it ironical?”

“I got it, yeah, but I don’t see why it’s so funny… Or why it’s funny at all.”

“You never find anything funny!” you exclaimed, still laughing. “You should relax, if you continue being like this you will look like an eighty-year-old man at thirty.”

“I do find things funny, I just don’t when they’re said by you.”

At that, your laughs died down and you turned serious, staring at him with anger in your eyes.

“God,” you sighed. “Do you always have to remind me why you hate me so much? I mean, you could take a break or something.”

You scoffed, looking away from him. Goodbye to the good vibe the wine had settled inside your body.

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t like taking breaks from things.”

You glared at him. He surely was an idiot.

“No wonder why you’re so bitter all the time…” you mumbled, a frown on your face as you placed your – now empty – glass of wine of top of the table.

Yoongi shrugged, feigning indifference. “That’s just the way I am, you either take or leave it.”

“I don’t think that’s just the way you are,” you said, mocking him. “I think that’s the way you want people to think you are.”

Yoongi stayed silent as you grabbed your small purse and took out your wallet.

“You want us all to think you’re all tough and independent, that you don’t care or get hurt about anything. That stupid ‘underground rapper façade’ – ” you said, making quotation marks with your fingers. “ – with the dark aura, dark clothes and stupid hat covering your face. Pff. Try to sell that bullshit to someone else, Min Yoongi, because I won’t buy it.”

You placed your thirty bucks on top of the table with a harsh movement.

You stopped to think for some seconds. “Okay,” you said after a moment deliberating with yourself. “Maybe you are a bitter asshole, indeed, but that’s not all you are. I know you took time of your days off at work to help Jin with the opening of his restaurant when he was overwhelmed by it. I know you recorded Namjoon’s entire graduation ceremony because you wanted his mother to be able to enjoy it without worrying about the camera. I know you searched for months for a good establishment where Hobi could start his dance academy. I know you’re there for Jimin, Tae or Jungkook whenever they need it, and I know you try to be a good role model for them. I know and I’ve seen a lot of things. Behind all those layers, there’s a kind Min Yoongi that sometimes shows himself to people.”

You had already put on your shoes by the time you finished your small speech.

“They all know those things too, but if the bad things end up outweighing the good ones… They’ll end up getting tired of you and you’ll end up alone. Not that I care, I’m only telling you this because I want to, you know?” you said, hiccupping after the word ‘know’. “I know you don’t want to be my friend, that’s not the point of this, you don’t have to be my friend if you don’t want to. The point is that…”

You looked up at the ceiling, having lost track of your thoughts. Fuck, if Min Yoongi was a pessimistic drunk, then, you were a philosophical drunk.

“Fuck, I don’t know what the point is anymore,” you laughed. You put on your coat and grabbed your purse. “Anyways, you’re an asshole and I’m leaving you and your stupid one hundred bucks’ bottle of wine. Bye.”

You opened the paper door, lifting your chin up and leaving the restaurant with as much dignity as you had entered it.

The night air was chill, and you shivered a bit as you opened the uber app in your phone. Your fingers were a bit numb from the cold, and all the warmth you were feeling inside was because of the five glasses of wine you had drunk.

“Wait!” you heard a voice calling you out of the sudden.

The voice faded amongst the noises of the cars, the night life of the city, the conversations of people passing by.

“Wait!”

You turned around, maybe you had forgotten something at the bar… Or rather someone.

It surprised you a bit to see Min Yoongi trotting towards you, his forehead meeting the light for the first time in ages, the wind blowing his bangs backwards. You frowned, expecting the worst. He surely was running towards you because he wanted to kick you in the shin or something like that.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Your frown deepened. What the fuck was that question?

“I’m flying to Spain to search the man who made that bottle of wine with his own feet to beat the shit out of him, and to get our money back, where do you think I’m going?” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words.

“Dunno, but you’re drunk and…”

“And I’m going home to sleep it off.”

Yoongi seemed to relax at that, eyes a bit more open and rounder than before. He was letting his guard down even if it was just for a couple of minutes.

“Oh… Well,” he stuttered. And now he was stuttering? Maybe you hadn’t been the one affected by that expensive as fuck wine after all. “I’ll drive you home.”

“What? Thanks but I’ve just called an uber.”

“I’ll drive you for free.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if the headache I’ll have after being in such a reduced space with you will be worth it.”

“You’re a sarcastic drunk or what?”

“No, I’m sarcastic by nature, you would already know that if you had bothered knowing me a bit.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, my car is parked just a few streets from here. Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m also stubborn by nature so – Ey!”

Yoongi grabbed your upper arm and started dragging you down the street.

“Ey! This is assault!” you protested, trying to scape form his grip. “He’s dragging me against my will.”

“Shut up, someone will think I’m trying to hurt you or something.”

As soon as he saw the devilish glint in your eyes, he rushed you clasp his hands over your mouth, trying to make you shut up.

“Hmff…” you kept saying, not giving up.

“Stop, let me drive you home, okay?” Yoongi said.

“Jai donf wanf fo,” you said, his hands still covering your mouth. “Lef me fo.”

“No.”

He didn’t want to let you go? Okay, you would proceed to plan B.

You stuck out your tongue and licked his palm, making him pull away from you immediately.

“You’re so gross!” he protested, wiping his hand in the front of his jeans.

“What’s wrong with you? You want me to be your friend all of the sudden or what?”

“I don’t want you to be my friend, I just want to carry you to your dorm.”

You stared at him with suspicious eyes.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because I want to, okay? Gosh, you’re so difficult! Can’t you just accept a free ride home like any other normal person would do?”

“What if you just want to jump off the car while it’s still in motion so it crashes against some building and I die?” your eyes still narrowed, you kept staring at him as if analyzing him. “Plus, you’re drunk too.”

“I’m not drunk,” he sighed.

“You drank wine.”

“Yeah, the two glasses you left me.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Alright, I’ll let you carry me home, but on one condition.”

“I’m not even sure if I want to know what that condition is.”

You smirked. “You’re staying here during the holidays, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, then you’ll have to give me a chance. Get to know me. Try to be my friend. If, in the end you discover you don’t want to be my friend because I’m too insufferable and difficult for you, I’ll accept it and stop talking to you until the end of my days. What do you think?”

Yoongi stood still, staring at you as if you had gone mad. Nothing new to be honest.

He seemed to weigh the different options.

“Alright,” he nodded. “But only because I’m sure I’ll end up finding you too insufferable and difficult for me anyways.”

Your smirk widened. “Mhm,” you nodded, stretching out your hand for him to grab it.

“What are you doing now?” he asked, staring at your hand.

“Sealing our deal,” you shrugged. “Without a shake of hands, a deal can’t be sealed.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes but ended up shaking your hand. It felt cold against yours.

“Let’s start again,” you said, still stretching his hand. “From zero. Hello, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Yoongi looked dumbfounded for some seconds until he cleared his throat and pulled his hand away from yours.

“Min Yoongi.”

And just like that, you gave Min Yoongi a second chance and he gave you a first one.

. . .

Turns out, it was Yoongi who contacted you first, asking you if you wanted to grab some coffee. He said he was only asking you because he was bored and needed some coffee in his system, and he didn’t like going to coffee shops in Christmas all alone because the music and atmosphere made him nervous.

You ended up having a hot chocolate while he had his usual iced americano. You never understood his obsession with that beverage or how he always had to drink it with ice even in December.

That first meeting led to another the following day, and that another to other, and just like that, you almost saw each other every single day.

He would either wait for you outside the store, grabbing something for dinner with you after your shift ended. Most of the time, he was silent while you made conversation, talking about anything that would come to your mind. He just nodded or observed you, sometimes he even hummed. You didn’t mind, you could talk for the both of you but it was strange, you had never been one of those people. Yoongi made you one of those people. You guessed he made you comfortable enough to talk all you wanted and more, plus, you had always been a huge hater of awkward silences or couples of people eating in silence and staring at their phones.

Of course, you still argued over the silliest things.

“Of course shrimps can see,” you announced, frowning in disgust as Yoongi ate avidly one of the shrimps that came with his soup. “Why would they have eyes then?”

Yoongi stared at the head of the shrimp he had been eating.

“Dunno, bats have eyes but they don’t see.”

Your frown deepened. “What do bats have to do with shrimps?!”

“They both have eyes and they don’t use them!”

“Shrimps use their eyes!”

“No, they use their tentacles to guide them.”

You rolled your eyes. “They don’t have tentacles, those things in their mouth are hairs and they use them to find a sexual partner with which they can procreate.”

Yoongi’s eyes travelled down towards the shrimp in his hands once again, an expression of disgust in his face.

“Ew,” he gagged, throwing the shrimp on his plate. He had been licking the shrimp’s head and telling you how yummy it was, now it was his turn to feel disgusted.

You laughed at him, wiping away the tears that were falling down your cheeks at how hard you were laughing. It was times like that, when you were laughing at him or something he had done, that he glared at you, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. You never knew about that last part, though.

It was always like that with Yoongi, but you never got bored of it. On the contrary.

Each day you wanted to see him more and spend more time with him. You blamed it on the friendship, ignoring the ticklish feeling in your lower stomach each time you walked out of the store after a long day and found him waiting for you, back leaning against the store window as he waited for you.

The only two days you didn’t see him during the Christmas holidays were the two days you traveled back home to visit your family.

Neither you, nor Yoongi, expected to find a friend in each other’s biggest enemy. You sometimes wondered what the rest of the group would think after the holidays, how they would react.

“We should act as if this had never happened,” he had told you.

You glared at him. “You only say that because you love playing the grumpy-cat role and you want to keep arguing with me.”

“Touché.”

The both of you had just laughed it off, not giving it a second thought. You hadn’t told Max or Seulgi, and neither had he told the boys. Christmas holidays were coming to an end, but you both wanted to stay in the little bubble you had created during the last two weeks.

. . .

You sprayed some perfume on your neck, your armpits and all over your body, sniffing yourself before shrugging, satisfied.

Not too much, not too little. Perfect.

“And that’s all,” you clapped happily, turning around to stare at Yoongi, who was lying on your bed like a dead amoeba.

You always called him that. Dead amoeba. He hated it.

“C’mon dead amoeba, leave your phone and get that ass moving.”

Yoongi growled at the same time he glared at you.

“Look! You aren’t dead!” you mocked him, grabbing your coat. “Move!”

Yoongi growled again but stood up from your bed and got his own coat. As you climbed down the stairs of your dorm building, you applied some gloss your mother had bought you for Christmas.

“Where did you say you were bringing me?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the reflection of your phone screen.

“I didn’t say I was going to bring you anywhere.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve and we’re going to spend it together, are you telling me you don’t have any plans for the night?”

“We’re going to spend it together because we’re each one’s only option, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Alright,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m bringing you to my favorite pizza place, then.”

“No! I’m not eating pizza again this week. If I eat one more slice of pizza, my head will turn into a triangular shape with four cheeses in it.”

You laughed, opening the door of your building for him.

“Amoebas first,” you offered.

He glared at you, but walked out first anyway.

“We can go to a place, though…” Yoongi said, looking hesitantly towards the front.

The streets were almost empty. It was New Year’s Eve after all, everyone was either dressing themselves to go clubbing, or they were already at a party. People like Yoongi and you who were wallflowers and had no party to attend, were either at home or roaming around the streets with nowhere to go.

“Are you sure it will be open?” you asked, letting Yoongi guide you to the place he had suddenly thought about.

“It’s open every single day of the year,” he said, looking back at you. “And I can assure you this because I’ve come here almost every single day of the year.”

“Whoa, your social life is great.”

“Just like yours,” he said, winking at you.

You walked by his side in silence until he stopped right in front of a wooden door. There was yellowish light emerging from it.

Yoongi opened the door, urging you inside. The place was empty, not even waiters to welcome you in. The walls behind the receptionist table were covered in calendars, some of the lunar year, others of the Chinese year… All sorts of decorations filled the table too.

“Over here,” Yoongi said, nodding towards the right.

“But… But what about the waiters?” you asked, almost whispering as if you were somewhere you shouldn’t be.

“They’ll come in a minute.”

The main room was smaller than your dorm, seven tables distributed all over the place with barely a few inches between each one. You took a seat on the table at the back of the room. The wood chairs made a screeching noise as you dragged it across the floor.

“What’s this place?” you asked.

“Do you remember that ramen place I mentioned you when we were at Ninja? The cheap place? This is it.”

You looked around you. So, that was the famous ramen place Yoongi always talked about…

“Maybe it’s closed?”

“How can it be closed?” Yoongi frowned. “We’re inside.”

“Yeah, but there’s no one else, not even waiters.”

“Don’t be impatient, they’re cheap, not fast.”

“Maybe they’re celebrating New Year’s Eve.”

“They don’t celebrate that,” Yoongi shook his head, handing you a menu. “Here, read it.”

Still frowning, you opened the menu and started reading it. After a few moments, a waiter appeared and greeted Yoongi as if the both of them already knew each other.

“I’ll have a wonton soup,” Yoongi said, closing his menu and handing it back to the waiter.

“Hm… And I’ll have the miso soup.”

The waiter nodded, also taking your menu and disappearing once again. Not even music adorned the atmosphere.

“You always have miso soup, don’t you get bored of it?”

“And I always see you, every single day, and I somehow haven’t gotten bored of you yet.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but smiled nevertheless.

You narrowed your eyes after the waiter placed two soju bottles on the table.

“You had this planned,” you suddenly said.

Yoongi shrugged. “I didn’t.”

You stared at him with that same stare, hoping to make him uncomfortable.

“You can’t lie to me, you planned this.”

“I promised you I would take you to a real ramen place, didn’t I? Well, here we are.”

“Aha!” you exclaimed, pointing at him. “So you admit you had this all planned.”

“Shut up and choose what you’re going to eat.”

A miso ramen, a wonton soup, and more bottles of soju than you can count later, the both of you were walking out of the small restaurant, laughing at you stumbling with the carpet of the hall.

The both of you walked under the clear sky of the 31th of December, stars scattered all over the dark canvas. It was only ten o’clock, two hours left of the year. Your feet dragged you across the empty streets of Seoul, streetlamps looking like small yellow moons that followed you wherever you went.

It was pure silent outside, except for your lulled voices and loud laughs.

Yoongi stopped abruptly in front of a convenience store in the middle of the walk, saying he needed to buy something to eat. As if you hadn’t just had a full dinner. He walked out of the store some minutes later with a bag full of snacks and a bottle of americano coffee in his hands.

“Of course you would buy an iced americano,” you scoffed, starting to walk as you rolled your eyes.

He just laughed, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

Neither of you cared about the hour, nor about the chilly weather, as you both walked alongside the Han River.

The moon reflected itself on the surface of the river, everything so quiet and still that it didn’t look like it was the 31st of December. Everything was quiet beyond the pair of headphones you were sharing with Yoongi, some Kendrick Lamar song sounding through them. You could only hear the beat of the song and the crunching sounds you made each time you took a bite of your cookies, along with some distant voices of drunk people singing and shouting incoherent things.

The both of you ended up siting at the thick stone railing of one of the river’s sides, legs dangling and swinging above the surface of the river.

For a moment, you closed your eyes and let the moment sink in, you wanted it to stay forever with you. That exact same moment, sitting on a cold stone surface in complete silence, feeling the tingling sensation of all the soju you had drunk running through your veins, hummin alongside the song that was playing at that moment. It was cold, but the small warmth you could feel on your right side reminded you of the equally as quiet presence of Yoongi. The moonlight reflecting on your skin made you feel lighter, as if you could just jump out of the railing and dance on top of the water. How were you feeling…? Over the moon?

You heard Yoongi clearing his throat, and your eyes snapped open once he began talking.

“So, what are your wishes for this new year?” he asked, taking another sip from his americano coffee.

“Hmm…” you doubted, eyes travelling up until they arrived to the starry sky. “My wishes…”

You arched a brow and looked at him with a wicked smile on your lips.

“Wait, I can’t tell you what my wishes are for this new year, if I do, they won’t come true.”

“C’mon,” Yoongi said, clicking his tongue. “Tell me just one.”

You kept staring at him with your brow arched, but finally gave up when you saw the exasperation in Yoongi’s face.

“Alright,” you accepted, staring at the sky once again. “I have loads of wishes, to be honest, but there’s one that I really want to work hard to achieve…” you took a deep breath. “I want to be brave.”

Yoongi blinked. “Brave? Brave as in you want to go paragliding or something like that?”

“No, idiot,” you scoffed. “I want to take risks, but not I-want-to-risk-my-life risks. I want to be more spontaneous with my decisions, I want to le myself go, you know? Get out of my comfort zone.”

“Give me an example.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“You remember when I told you I love writing, right? When I said I wanted to be a professional writer and all that. I’m always saying how much I love writing and how much I hate doing something that my mom wants me to do and not something I want to do, but I never do anything to change that. Well, I want to change that. I have some drabbles lying around in my laptop and I want to re-start writing them, maybe even gather the balls and send them to a publishing house or something like that.”

“Why haven’t you done it sooner?”

“Hmm… Fear, laziness… Dunno,” you shrugged. You grabbed some strawberry pockys out of the bag and started munching on them. “I want to change my life but I’m scared of it. I want to change my life but I’m too lazy to do it. I want to open myself to new things, places, people, but I just can’t. But that’s going to change, I swear.”

Yoongi nodded softly.

“The unknown is scary. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” he said.

“Exactly. And what about you?” you said, leaning closer to him to bump his shoulder with yours. “What are your wishes for this new year.”

“Haven’t really thought about them. I just do as I go.”

You rolled your eyes. “You always say that, but it’s impossible you haven’t thought about it, not even once.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, stealing some pockys from your box.

“I want to win the Verse Rap Battle.”

You laughed, leaning backwards until your back was completely resting on the cold stone and you were lying on the railing.

“Of course you’d say something like that,” you muttered, eyes lost in the thousands of stars that were glancing back at the two of you.

“Well, you said what my wishes where… That was one of them.”

You turned your head so you could stare at him. “So, you’re admitting you’ve been thinking about wishes for this new year.”

“You’re insufferable.”

You laughed even louder at Yoongi’s distress. He looked conflicted, staring at the pockys in his hands.

After a few seconds, Yoongi copied your position and lied back on the railing. You took off your headphones as Yoongi had handed him out to you, keeping them in the pocket of your coat.

“What about Namjoon? Do any of your wishes include him?” Yoongi asked out of nowhere.

“Namjoon?” you asked, frowning. “In my wishes? What the fuck?”

A loud laugh erupted through your throat and broke the silence that surrounded you both.

“Yeah, you know, you get along so well and you’re always together… Maybe you wished something that included him, dunno.”

“Hmm… Now that you mention it, yeah, I wanna wish something about him. I wish he would stop breaking my things. The other day he jumped on my bed and broke one of the bars of my bedframe.”

“Ha, ha,” Yoongi said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “You’re so funny. But I didn’t mean it in a friendly way, I meant it in a more…” he cleared his throat. “Romantic way.”

“Romantic way? Namjoon and I?” you said, incredulously staring at him.

He didn’t meet your eyes, staring up at the sky. You busted out laughing.

“Yes, Namjoon and you,” Yoongi repeated, getting a bit protective. “I see the way you look at him, how he makes you laugh and vise versa, there’s something between you both.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, still laughing at Yoongi’s words. “There’s something between us both, and it’s called friendship.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, exasperated. You stopped laughing once you saw you were trying his patience a bit.

“Alright, being serious now,” you said, clearing your throat. “There’s only a good friendship between Namjoon and I, and I value it too much to fuck it up with some romantic feelings. When I first met him, I had the tiniest of crushes on him, not gonna lie. He was handsome, funny, intelligent, and he treated me so kindly… But then I found some weird as fuck W.I.T.C.H. porn in his laptop one day while we were studying at his apartment and that crush flew out of the window.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the laugh that had been building inside his chest and he let it out softly.

“He’s a great person and an even better friend, I would do anything to keep that friendship we have, but nothing else. Plus, he’s knowing someone now, a girl from work or something like that.”

“Hey! I didn’t know that!” Yoongi protested.

You sat yourself up once again, your back hurting from resting un such a hard surface. Yoongi followed you.

“How is it that you know about one of my best friend’s love life before I do?”

“Have you ever asked him?” you asked Yoongi.

“No.”

“Well, there you have it then.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue and took a last sip from his coffee. You had already run out of snacks, so you had nothing to keep yourself occupied with.

“I sometimes wish I liked Joon,” you mumbled, the soju speaking for you. Why did you always have to get so intense when you were drunk? “Things would have been easier.”

“How?”

“I would have confessed to him and I know he would have said yes because he has confessed to me that he also had a little crush on me at the beginning. We would have been happy, maybe not at first, but with time… But I didn’t want time to fall in love, I wanted it to happen all of the sudden, I wanted it to just hit me, you know? Bam! One day you’re living your life in peace and the next one you look at that person and you just know you’re in love.”

“That’s utopic and –“  

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed. “I know. It’s utopic and it looks like I’ve gotten it out of a Tumblr fanfic… But that’s how I think, and that’s how I want to feel. I don’t want to settle down for the first person I think it’s going to be able to love me. I want to love, to lose my mind for someone, do crazy things for someone… Even if in the end all I have is a broken heart and some memories that I’ll end up forgetting about.”

“You’re willing to have your heart broken just to feel… Love?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said, suddenly realizing that, indeed, you were willing to have your heart broken and have your life turned upside down just to feel what love was. “I guess I do.”

Yoongi frowned. How could someone want to suffer just to have a couple of romantic moments with another person?

“And you? Are you willing to suffer in the name of love?” you asked, hitting his shoulder with yours.

“No, of course not,” he said, a disgusted expression on his face as he thought about suffering for another person. “The only living being I’m willing to suffer for, is my brother’s dog.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You think suffering because of love is cool and romantic because you have this idealized idea of it, fanfics and TV series are the ones to blame. But suffering and hurting is not cool, not even for someone you love.”

“You say it as if you’ve experienced something similar.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “Luckily, I’ve never been in love and I never want to be. Don’t misunderstand me, it’s not that I don’t want to be in love, I just don’t think love exists – at least, not like books and movies picture it. Every person I’ve known that was allegedly in love, ended up suffering because of it. If love is so good and beautiful, why do we have to suffer to feel it? Love is a stupid thing society has created to make us all think that we should find someone to complete us.”

“You don’t think there’s someone out there made for you?” you asked, blinking a few times.

You were not the most romantic person, nor where you a huge fan of it, but you did believe in love.

“No,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. “Made for me? That’s bullshit. We’re all made for ourselves and no one else. Finding someone who wants to share that with you is another thing.”

“Share it with you?”

“Yeah, share our flaws and stand our shit. That ‘my other half’ thing is the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard. What other half? We’re complete living beings, we don’t need anyone or anything to fill in the gaps that feel empty. If they feel empty, they’ll remain empty all your life, no one will come and suddenly fill them with love and tenderness. Ew.”

You smiled sadly, looking at the water.

“You must think I’m one of those romantic, book enthusiasts, writer wannabes.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Nah, I just think you’re a girl who has read too many fanfics.”

You let out a loud laugh. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I’ll find out.”

“Yeah, you’ll find out when you’re crying over someone you gave your everything to and ended up throwing it in the trash.”

“Well, I’ll find out then, while grabbing my everything from that trash,” you shrugged. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Go ahead,” he nodded.

“I just think you’re afraid of being vulnerable. Loving means being vulnerable in front of someone, and that is what you despise the most. Of course you’ll get hurt sometime, but it doesn’t always have to end like that. It must be so beautiful to give someone your everything, show them everything, open up to them and have them do the same. Even if I get hurt, I’m willing to try that something.”

“You’re crazy,” he scoffed.

You shrugged. “Nothing we didn’t already know. I’m not afraid of being vulnerable or hurt, you know? I have all my life to close off to people and not trust them, for now, I’ll keep trying. I do think there’s someone out there made for me, to laugh at my stupid jokes and think my flaws are what make me special and unique. Until I find them,” you said, smiling softly. “I’ll keep waiting.”

When you turned your head to look at Yoongi, he was already looking at you, an undecipherable look in his eyes.

As soon as you caught him red handed, he turned his face and looked at the river.

“That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”

You were about to laugh at him for being so bitter when the sky lighted up. It was suddenly filled with red and orange colors, gold and blue and green. Sparkles that fell from the sky after a loud ‘boom’.

You stared at your phone.

00:00

“Yoongi!” you shouted, standing up from your seated position and trying to keep your balance on the railing.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi exclaimed, his face lighting up with the reflection of the fireworks. He pulled from the material of your jeans to try and make you sit up again. “You’re gonna fall into the river!”

You could only stare at the fireworks, cascades of multicolored lights. They ascended in straight columns towards the sky and exploded, expanding and growing until they were nothing but dots of light, droplets that fell towards the ground, towards the water of the river. In the reflection of the water, you could also see the fireworks.

You looked at Yoongi, who was still trying to make you sit down.

“Don’t be a party pooper, come here!” you shouted so your voice could be heard above the noise of the fireworks.

“No! I’m not –“

You pulled harshly from his bomber jacket until you were stumbling over the railing, almost falling into the water. Yoongi reacted quickly for once in his life and stood up before you could fall. He grabbed you and prevented you from diving into the cold water of the Han river at 00:05 in the morning.

You clapped happily at the sight of him standing up in the railing and watching the fireworks with you.

“Now it’s the time! Make your wish!” you said in a rush, grabbing his hands and closing your eyes.

“What the f – ?”

“C’mon! Make it before the fireworks end!”

You heard Yoongi sigh, but he ended up relaxing and grabbing your hands back.

There, under the lights of the golden fireworks, you both made your wish for the New Year, fingers intertwined and soft smiles playing on your lips.

“Happy New Year, Yoongs!” you smiled at him once you finished making your wish and opened your eyes.

You watched him do the same and smile softly.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

. . .

The change in your relationship with Min Yoongi shocked your friends more than it had shocked you.

As soon as they arrived at Verse the last Friday of January and saw you sitting on one of the leather couches, you could see their eyes widening, their brows furrowing.

“What are you doing here?” Seulgi asked, her being one of the people that displayed a frown over her features.

“Yoongi is rapping tonight,” you simply said, shrugging.

“That’s exactly why we weren’t expecting to see you here tonight,” Max added, emerging from behind Taehyung.

“It’s not that we aren’t happy to see you here,” Taehyung rushed to say, seeing your face. “It’s just that…”

“It’s weird,” Jungkook said.

“Well, here I am,” you simply said.

“What evil plan do you have in mind?” Namjoon laughed, passing an arm over your shoulders and sitting next to you on the couch.

“If you’re planning on throwing tomatoes at Yoongi, please, stop now before it all goes to hell,” Seulgi said, fear in her eyes.

You laughed. “You can relax, I have no tomatoes with me tonight. I just want to enjoy Yoongi’s show. Maybe even cheer him up a bit.”

“Okay, that is weird,” Jimin pointed out.

“Your evil plan, kid, spit it out,” Seokjin demanded, moving his hand in front of your face.

“I’m not planning anything! I swear!” you defended yourself. “All I have are good intentions.”

“You never have good intentions,” Hoseok narrowed his eyes at you. “At least not when it comes to Yoongi.”

You scoffed. “Okay, think whatever you want, I’ll just stay here and enjoy the show while you all pay attention to me in case I suddenly run towards the stage and stab him with a fork.”

Namjoon laughed, pulling you onto his chest.

“Don’t get mad, Y/N,” he said. “It’s just that… The two of you are always arguing and those things, we weren’t expecting this.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a pout on your lips. Did they really think you could go there just to mess Yoongi’s show? Like, did they really think you were capable of that? Did they really think you were that cruel?

“Hey,” Namjoon called you once everyone had taken their respective seats and stopped paying attention to you. “C’mon, don’t get mad.”

“How do you expect me not to get mad? You think I’m a bad person.”

“Who said that?!” Namjoon exclaimed. “I’ll kill them.”

“You,” you pouted. “All of you think I’m a bad person if you really think I would be able to come here just to fuck Yoongi’s show.”

Namjoon threw his head backwards.

“We don’t think you’re a bad person, alright? It’s just that it’s fucking weird to see you here ready to support Yoongi when just four months ago you swore you would never come to this place to do just that. You can barely stand each other, let alone be kind to each other.”

“Well, if you didn’t want us to be kind to each other and start being friends, you shouldn’t have left us together at a restaurant.”

“Wait,” Namjoon said, seating on the couch with his back straight and eyes wide staring into yours. “This happened because of that stupid restaurant plan Seulgi had?”

“So, it was Seulgi’s idea…” you said, narrowing your eyes towards you friend, who was talking with Jimin absentmindedly. “I’m gonna –“

“It was her idea, but we all followed it. That’s not the main point,” Namjoon grabbed your shoulders, stopping you from committing murder. “This happened because of that night at the restaurant?” he repeated.

You shrugged, freeing yourself of his grip on your shoulders. “Yeah. We just started talking and… Turns out he’s not that much of an asshole.”

“Am I hearing right? Please, repeat it. You don’t think Min Yoongi’s an asshole anymore?”

“No, he still is, but now I can put up with it,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Namjoon let out a victorious scream while leaning backwards on the couch.

“Yeah! I knew it! I knew you would make good friends, you just had to give each other a chance,” he said, almost as if he was talking to himself. “You’re so alike it hurt seeing you argue all the time.”

“Please, don’t say Min Yoongi and I are alike, it’s an offense. I can tolerate him, alright? Just, don’t get your hopes high. Tolerate him, that’s all.”

Namjoon sent you a knowing look, but luckily for you, a woman climbed on stage and stopped him from saying anything else.

Your attention was quickly averted from Namjoon as you stared at the woman and took a sip from your beer.

To say the least, you were a bit nervous. It had been a long time since you had visited Verse, let alone Yoongi rap, and you were expectant, not knowing what to expect or what to feel. You had wanted to see him rap again once again ever since that first time you saw him on stage. His presence was magnetic to you, almost bewitching.

The intro was the same you remembered, same words, same puns, just a different host.

Yoongi was battling against a girl that night. She had the whole bar standing from their seats by the end of the show, and you thought Yoongi had it really difficult as you clapped for the girl, open-mouthed.

“And finally, the one you’ve all been waiting for!” the hostess said. “Suga!”

The people who were standing, kept standing as they cheered loudly for the small boy. The people who were sitting, stood up.

It was not only you who felt the pull towards the underground rapper, but the crowd did too, and it was a true gift that someone could do that in just four minutes with a few words. Yoongi had that gift.

Yoongi, or rather, Suga, appeared on stage. As usual, he was wearing black clothes, a long coat that covered his oversized hoodie. A black cap covered his face as usual, but you could still see his white-ish hair underneath. With his pale skin, he almost looked gotten out of a Tim Burton movie.

He cleared his throat as he waited for the noise of the crowd to disappear.

A beat that sounded like the beating of a heart echoed around the small place. Then, Yoongi’s breathing could be heard. Some seconds passed, everyone in pause mode, waiting.

When Yoongi started spitting out the few first words, the crowd was his. His energy could be felt all around you, vibrating and swirling around the room. His voice powerful, raspy and deep, his presence imposing. You sometimes didn’t even understand what he was saying because of the speed of his voice, but he was talking about something dark, about a bad place he had been in during his life.

You had never thought about Yoongi’s past, you had seen his present and it was the only thing you cared about, but now that you where hearing him, you were curious. Had someone hurt him? Or that someone had been himself? You had always seen the closed off and distant Yoongi, but never the vulnerable and sensitive one, the one who thought about everything too much.

When the show ended, the crowd cheered immediately, but you remained on your seat, still processing everything. Yoongi had too many sides. The boy who drank iced americano and got mad at you when you spilled it over him by accident. The boy who played piano pouring his soul in every note. The boy who dressed in all black and was pure fury on a stage. The boy who listened intently to you while you spoke about your dreams and plans for the future. The boy who didn’t believe in love but loved his friends so deeply and always cared for them. The boy who could make you laugh with his silly faces and stupid double-chin. And you found yourself liking each one of those sides.

. . .

After that night at Verse, the group had grown used to your and Yoongi’s new relationship. You still argued from time to time, but most of it, you spent it together, joking with each other and sharing the most beautiful moments of your life.

It had become a routine for the both of you to just go to the Han river at night, when one of you – or the two of you – were feeling a bit stressed or consumed by life in general. You would silently open Spotify in your phone, put one headphone on and hand Yoongi the other, and you would press Shuffle play. You would let the music carry you as you walked, in complete and utter silence. Each other’s presence and the melody playing through the speakers was more than enough when the noise of the world became too much for you to bare.

The old woman that owned the small and shabby ramen place became your friend. She would always invite you to a soup or some good green tea pancakes. She greeted you with a small smile as she led you to your usual seats. You would talk about your days as you shared some good bowl of ramen. You would get angry at Yoongi for rejecting some father who had asked him for particular piano lessons for his daughter and he would only shrug, telling you he didn’t want to be the piano teacher of some bratty kid. He would also get angry at you each time you told him you had spoken with your mother and hadn’t told her yet about planning on sending one of your works to a publishing house.

He became your confident, the person you could tell everything to while knowing he wouldn’t judge you. Yeah, he would sometimes get mad at you or reprimand you, but at the end of the day, you always respected his decisions, and he respected yours.

He made you laugh and made you angry. He made you smile and sometimes made you want to murder him – just like the first time you invited him to your dorm and he made fun of your k-pop posters. In just the span of a few months, he became everything you knew and everything you wanted.

That’s why it didn’t shock you when, on a Spring evening, you realized you were in love with Min Yoongi.

You had been insisting him to bring you to one of his piano lessons, you wanted to see him play from up close. He had finally given in after an entire day of you protesting and following him around like a lost puppy.

“Alright…” he finally said, sighing loudly and holding his partitures close to his chest.

You, who had dramatically fallen to your knees in the middle of the corridor after hours and hours – it had been only a few minutes – of pleading him, opened your eyes wide and smiled brightly.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ask me twice in case I change my mind,” he scoffed.

“Yay!” you shouted, standing on your feet in a quick jump. “I’m going to see Min Yoongi play the piano!”

“I only accepted because everyone was starting to look at us weirdly, so don’t shout,” he said through clenched teeth, sending awkward looks to the people passing by your side. You had also noticed them looking weirdly at you, on your knees, pleading him to let you go with him to his piano lesson. You couldn’t care any less about what the stupid people at your stupid university thought. “Don’t make me regret my decision.”

“I won’t,” you promised.

But, it hadn’t been five minutes since the piano lesson had started, and Yoongi was already starting to regret his decision.

“Can I record the lesson and post it on Instagram?” you asked, already grabbing your phone from your denim jacket.

“No, why the fuck do you want to record it?” Yoongi frowned, staring at you from his small piano stool.

You shrugged. “So I can show off my friend’s incredible piano skills.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Just… Don’t, alright? I don’t need anyone seeing my piano skills.”

“It could widen your clientele,” you pressed.

“No, alright? I don’t care about my clientele, it’s enough as it is. I have enough to make money and pay for my rent.”

You scoffed. “You’re afraid people won’t see you as the dark and mysterious underground rapper anymore.”

Yoongi glared at you.

“Take a seat and stay quiet, okay?”

“Can I at least cheer for you?”

Yoongi glared at you. Again.

“Okay, okay, I’ll sit and keep my mouth shut,” you said, hopping off the stage of the assembly hall, running towards the seats. After looking at Yoongi, you added. “And I’ll keep my phone inside my bag, I swear.”

“Good.”

A few seconds later, his pupil entered the assembly hall, running with her head hung low as she apologized for having arrived a bit late. Yoongi told her not to worry and started the lesson.

It was boring, to say the least, watch the girl play and Yoongi correct her. For the love of Gandalf! You had gone there to watch Yoongi play, not to watch some first year girl stutter again and again each time Yoongi leant a bit closer to her!

Okay, maybe you were being a bit cruel with the girl… She was only learning, and Yoongi could be a very imposing and strict teacher. You would be nervous too if you were in the poor girl’s position.

Ignoring Yoongi’s previous words, as soon as the girl finished playing her partiture, you stood up from your seat, clapping vigorously.

“Yay! You did great!” you cheered.

Yoongi didn’t even look at you, shoulders slumping in defeat as he sighed loudly. The girl turned around and looked at you with blushing cheeks and a small smile displaying on her lips.

“Thanks,” you could hear her mutter.

When your palms started to hurt, you stopped clapping. Had it been necessary clapping for almost three minutes? Probably not, but seeing Yoongi’s face of distress was more than worth it.

“Alright Ariana,” Yoongi sighed again, ignoring you. “You improved a lot, congratulations. I was able to feel through each note, I think you already own this partiture.”

“Thanks,” the girl said, this time blushing even harder. Yoongi’s compliments weren’t something that happened on a daily basis.

Yoongi opened his small folder and started searching for something amongst the papers. He handed the girl a new partiture and started playing a bit for her. The girl grabbed the paper and, with a small nod of her head, gathered her things and left the assembly hall.

“A hard teacher,” you nodded. “Asks for a lot, but also gives a lot. That’s cool.”

Yoongi shook his head and started grabbing all his papers, keeping them inside his folder.

“Do you want to see watch me play something or not?” Yoongi asked, not facing you yet.

“But the class has already ended.”

“Yeah, it has, but I’m offering to play something for you. Do you want me to or would you rather –?”

In the blink of an eye, you were sitting by his side on the stool, back straight and hands pompously placed on top of your thighs.

“I’m all ears and eyes.”

Yoongi glanced at you briefly and then laughed a bit.

“What do you want me to play?”

“Oh my God, I can even choose the song, this is better than I thought,” you said, relaxing your back and placing your hands on top of the stool. “Hmm… Lemme think.”

You placed your fingers on your chin, just as if you were deep in thought.

“Have you seen La La Land?” Yoongi asked, interrupting your train of thought.

“Of course,” you said, almost offended.

“Perfect,” he hummed with a small smile on his lips.

You observed him, expectantly. Was he going to play City of Stars? Did he want you to sing along with him or what?

But, as soon as his fingers hovered above the white keys and slowly came down to caress them, you understood it wasn’t City of Stars the song that he was playing. It was the main characters’ song.

You observed, mesmerized, how his fingers danced over the keys of the piano. You closed your eyes, absorbing each one of the sad and nostalgic notes. It flowed slowly, the sounds escaping from the back of the grand piano, dancing around the room and reaching your ears softly. You felt as if you were inside the song, surrounded by it and every feeling it portrayed, every feeling Yoongi portrayed.

He wasn’t only playing the piano, he was telling the people how he felt. Just like Suga poured his everything in his rap, his verses, his rhymes, Yoongi poured his everything in each note, in each key of the piano. You couldn’t help but think once again about the contrast that Yoongi was. Soft and mellow with the piano, tender, almost sad and nostalgic, like a rainy day. Aggressive and brutal with his rap, pouring his truth in it, his anger, his pain, his rage, like the horn of a car. He was like the cold iced americano he liked in the mornings, in the middle of Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn or whatever the season was. Whether it was forty degrees outside or four, he liked his iced americano, dark and cold, bitter and soft.

The song turned a bit more cheerful, a bit lighter. He moved his back softly, accompanying the movements of his arms, hands, fingers. Every piece of it moved with the song, and soon, you started to do the same. You couldn’t help it, it was as if the same magnetic pull you felt towards him when his was on stage, invaded your body while he was playing the piano too.

You opened your eyes as you realized that maybe, it wasn’t the music what made you feel that pull towards him. That it wasn’t the power he radiated while he rapped, or the softness with which he played the notes of the partiture he was playing. Maybe it was him. Maybe you felt that magnetic pull towards Yoongi.

You watched his side profile, eyes closed and mouth half-opened as he kept interpreting the song. You weren’t even listening to it anymore, only being able to stare at Yoongi completely mesmerized.

In that moment, you thought Min Yoongi was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. All soft edges and sharp personality.

In that moment, it hit you, just like the few notes of the song. Why had it suddenly turned so sad? So slow? It all had started slow and sad, but it had been cheerful and bright in the middle. Why did it had to be sad and slow again?

The few notes were more spaced between each other, giving you time to breath in between each one of them.

In that moment, it hit you. You had fallen in love with Min Yoongi.

And that’s how you realized it, while Min Yoongi played his piano for you in the assembly hall of the History building of your campus, on a rainy day of April. Spring in full bloom.

. . .

After that realization, the feeling only grew and grew. Each time you looked at him, you saw everything you wanted. He had gone from being Min asshole Yoongi, the boy whose iced americano you had accidentally spilled all over his clothes and the boy you couldn’t stand, from being Min softie Yoongi, the boy who looked like a furry cat each time you watched a movie at your dorm and he hid under your cozy blankets.

You couldn’t wait for the weekend to arrive so you could see him. You couldn’t wait for his text messages every evening. Fuck, if someone had told you a year before that you would be like that, completely at Yoongi’s mercy, you would have laughed in their face.

You sometimes thought about telling him. He was such an open-minded person, even if he didn’t feel the same, he would understand you. But of course, just as much as he was open-minded, he was unpredictable too… So you always ended up stopping yourself and forcing you to stay quiet. You didn’t want to ruin your movie nights, or your walks by the Han river. They were too precious to you, more than some stupid feelings.

You sometimes thought it was just a stupid crush. In the end, you had never had such a close relationship with a boy, not even with your previous boyfriends, and you sometimes thought you were mistaking love with true friendship.

You sometimes thought about telling Seulgi and Max, so you would have a second opinion. But Seulgi had a mouth that was too big for her own good and keeping secrets had never been her strong point. And Max… Well, she would just laugh at you for falling for the boy you had always said you would hate until the day you’d die.

You sometimes thought you thought too much.

“Let it flow” was what your grandmother had always told you, and it had always been your motto in life.

Yeah, let it flow, it was so easy to say and so difficult to follow. How could you let it flow when it was the last thing you thought about each night and the first thing you thought about each morning? Let it flow… Pff. You should find a new – and better – motto.

That night, you had been thinking exactly about that before finally falling asleep.

The next day would be a very important date, and you needed to be rested so you could support Yoongi.

So, despite all the thoughts that had been running through your head, with your final exams having ended just the previous week – and therefore, your second year of university – and Summer holidays just around the corner, you had lit one of your orange blossom candles, closed your eyes and let sleep take you.

It was your phone buzzing on your nightstand what woke you up, not the thoughts or the candle extinguishing.

“Hmpf…” you mumbled, lifting your head from the pillow and trying to open your eyes so you could at least look at the source of that noise.

After realizing it was your phone, you sat up, switched on the lamp on top of your nightstand and grabbed your phone.

“Yeah?” you growled, obviously cursing in the name of whomever was calling you at three AM.

“Y/N? Were you asleep?”

You rolled your eyes after hearing Yoongi’s voice.

“No, I was preparing myself to run a marathon,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “What do you think? Of course I was sleeping, you asshole, you better have a good reason to wake me up.”

Yoongi scoffed at the other side of the line. “Luckily I’m the one with the bad mood when it’s awaken…”

“Just shoot it.”

“What if I was sick? Or in trouble?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Exactly what I thought, now tell my why the fuck are you calling me so I can go back to sleep,” you said.

“I’m outside your dorm,” he said quickly. “I can’t sleep, guess I’m too nervous.”

You stood silent, eyes suddenly open and staring at your white sheets.

“For tomorrow?” your voice sounded softer.

“Yeah. I just feel… A bit anxious, dunno, I just felt as if I was suffocating in my apartment and needed to take a walk… Sorry for calling you and waking you up, didn’t even thought about it I just needed –“

“Don’t worry, I’ll be outside in five minutes.”

You grabbed a pair of joggers, one of your hoodies and walked out of your dorm. Yoongi was sitting on a bench, waiting for you as his leg bounced up and down and he stared at the distance.

“Hi,” you greeted him. “Aren’t you cold?”

“We’re in June.”

You shrugged.

“It’s never too hot to wear a hoodie,” you shrugged.

“Guess you’re right,” he laughed, standing up from the bench and walking a bit closer to you.

“Are you okay?” you asked, changing the topic and staring closely at him.

He nodded with his head. “Just a bit anxious that’s all.”

You nodded, understanding. The next day would be the last competition of the Rap Battle at Verse. Only Yoongi rapping against a boy called Zico. There would be loads of people, and it was rumored that it would be talent scouts from different record-companies too. It was Yoongi’s possible connection with his dreams coming true.

“You know what’s good for when someone’s anxious?” you asked him, a devilish glint in your eyes.

“Getting shit-faced?”

“No, gosh, no. You should stop trying to mend all your problems with alcohol Min Yoongi, that’s bad for you and your liver,” you scolded him. “I was thinking about something else. Completely different.”

“Enlighten me, please.”

“Gladly,” you smiled at him. “Just follow me.”

. . .

Yoongi protested for the hundredth time as you climbed up the hill.

“Is it too far from here?” he cried.

“Stop protesting, we’re nearly there.”

You smiled when you arrived to the top of the hill. You were in one of the small forests at the outskirts of the city. At night, the whole city could be seen from its top. It was truly breathtaking.

But you hadn’t brought Yoongi there just to observe the views, not. You had brought him there because of what was on that small top of the hill.

During July, they held a small carnival there, with stands, and fair attractions. The rest of the year it was closed. You went there the first year you moved to the city, with your grandparents.

“Here it is,” you said, stopping in front of the fence.

You looked upwards. You would have to climb a bit, but it was alright since you had plenty of trees to climb.

“What?” Yoongi gasped, seeing your hidden intentions. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to jump that fence.”

“C’mon!” you said, already climbing one of the closest trees. “It’s not that high!”

“The last thing I need is for me to appear with a broken leg during tomorrow’s show.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. If you fall from here, the most you can do is stab yourself with a fallen branch and die. Quick and you won’t feel it.”

Yoongi mocked you under his breath, and you laughed as you reached the branch that joined the tree and the fence, hanging from it and letting yourself fall softly on the ground.

“See? I’m one of the clumsiest persons on Earth and I did it safe and sound,” you said. “Your turn.”

Yoongi protested but ended up climbing the tree too.

“If I die, my spirit will haunt you until the end of your days,” he scoffed.

“Bah, you already haunt me while alive.”

You turned around and started walking around the area. It was empty and everything was closed, covered in tarps so the cold wouldn’t ruin the stands and the attractions.

You heard a low thud behind you, letting you know that Yoongi had made it.

“See? It wasn’t that difficult!” you said, not even looking back.

“Whatever,” Yoongi grumbled.

Your footsteps carried you to a stand, that looked way bigger than the rest, covered in a blue tarp.

“Here it is,” you smiled.

You grabbed one of the sides of the tarp and started undoing the laces that kept it in place. Once every rope was untied, you grabbed the tarp with all your strength and removed it from the structure.

Before Yoongi’s eyes, and old-looking carrousel appeared.

“What do you think?” you said, hands on your hips as you proudly looked at him.

“That you’re fucking crazy,” he grumbled.

“That’s cool! At least you’re not thinking about tomorrow anymore!”

You searched for the wires that connected the carrousel to the light. There were some electric panels hidden in a small cottage by the side of the carrousel. Hoping you wouldn’t electrocute yourself, you switched on all the buttons you found.

You heard some noises, and then, the carrousel was brought to life.

“Yay! It worked!” you said, running out of the cottage and towards Yoongi.

“If someone finds out, we’re in trouble… Wouldn’t it had been best if we had just taken a walk by the Han river like we always do?”

“Fuck Yoongi, don’t be boring,” you protested, ignoring him as you walked closer to the carrousel.

Yellow lights had come to life and a small melody filled the silence of the night. Horses were jumping up and down as the carrousel spun. Its speed was low.

“Plus, who the fuck is going to be here at three in the morning?”

“Hmm… Us?”

You shook your head. “C’mon, jump in!”

You waited until there was a free space in the carrousel and jumped in. Holding yourself tightly to one of the golden bars that connected one of the horses to the structure of the carrousel, you straightened your back. You were in.

“Yay!” you happily said, climbing on top of the horse.

You laughed softly as the horse jumped, watching Yoongi with each turn of the carrousel.

“You know!” you began to say. “For an underground rapper who isn’t afraid of expressing himself through his music you’re pretty coward!”

When the carrousel spun again, you saw Yoongi’s previous space was empty. Frowning, you started to search for him.

“Ah yeah?” a voice said by your side.

You spun your head and smiled when you saw him climbed on the horse on your left. You laughed and started to sing along with the kids’ song that was playing.

Yoongi suddenly joined you, his voice much deeper than yours.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, spinning in the merry-go-round while singing and laughing at each other. There was a soft breeze blowing in the hill that night, caressing the grass and your skin. The moon shone brighter than the yellowish lights of the carrousel, and the sounds of owls sometimes sounded stronger than the songs that were playing. It was almost as if you and Yoongi were trapped inside your own world. You didn’t know how, but you always found a way to shut the noisy world around you both.

You stared at him, biting your lower lip as he rode on the artificial horse with a small smile threatening to appear on his lips. The need to tell him shook your body. But you couldn’t.

“Are you feeling better?” is what you said instead.

Yoongi nodded with his head. Then, he stared at you.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Thank you, for always being here for me. I don’t deserve you after how I treated you at the start.”

You laughed it off, like you always did.

“You don’t, but meh, I’m too good of a person,” you joked. Then, you turned serious. “Hey, don’t thank me, you deserve it.”

You tore your gaze away from his, looking towards the city lights in the distance. Your eyes were so focused on the landscape ahead of you that you didn’t notice the light in Yoongi’s eyes as he stared at you. He shook his head and stared at the horizon too.

“I want to give my everything tomorrow, but somehow, each time I have something good waiting for me, I end up fucking it up,” he continued. “It’s as if I’m willing to sabotage my own life.”

“We’re all willing to sabotage our own lives, if you think about it. We aren’t afraid of dreaming because we know they’re only hopes waiting to come true. But when those hopes threaten to become a reality, we shit ourselves and run away. We’re afraid of changes because, even if we’re not satisfied with what we have, we’re too lazy to adapt ourselves again, to change our routine for something we don’t know if it’s going to work in the end. That’s how the human being works. That’s why I wanted to be brave this year, stop being afraid and stop running away,” you paused for a moment, thinking about how you were doing the exact same opposite. You were running away from your feelings for Yoongi. “You should do the same. I’m sure you’ll do great. Suga is powerful.”

Yoongi smiled, but you were looking away from him and you didn’t get to see how bright it was.

“Fuck, Y/N, didn’t know you could be so philosophical,” he laughed.

You shrugged and smiled, satisfied.

“What can I say?” you said. “I’m a box full of surprises.”

Yoongi laughed some more at your words.

“Yeah, you sure are…” he murmured, in a voice so low you weren’t able to hear it amongst the songs playing in the carrousel.

. . .

Yoongi slept on your couch that night. It wasn’t the first time you let him sleep on the couch at your dorm, but it was the firs that you both stayed up until the sun was almost peeking in the horizon, the soft light of the morning seeping through the blinds. You talked and laughed and talked some more until you both started feeling your eyelids heavy and fell asleep.

The following day, you helped Yoongi prepare for the show. He grabbed his things and brought them to your apartment. His laptop with the pen drive that contained all his songs, he had already chosen the one he was going to rap, so he kept it a secret from you. He also brought his keyboard and some other things he used to make sure the bass of the song was perfect. You helped him choose a cool outfit and styled his usual messy hair.

He left a couple of hours before you did, going to Verse to set everything for that night.

“What’s this doing here?” Seulgi mumbled as she entered your dorm, a disgusted expression on her face as she saw Yoongi’s mess all over you room. He had left in a rush and you weren’t going to clean everything up for him.

“Ah,” you said, looking at her. You shrugged and continued staring at yourself in the mirror as you tried to concentrate in the thin line of eyeliner that adorned your eyes. “Those are Yoongi’s things.”

“Yoongi’s?” Seulgi asked.

“Dunno why you sound so surprised,” Max shrugged, lying on your bed with her phone in her hands. “They’re together 24/7 now.”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything from us?” Seulgi asked you, her eyes narrowed as she pierced the back of your neck with her eyes. “Something like… A secret relationship with Yoongi?”

You glared at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“Are you sure you’re not hiding a secret relationship with Jimin from us?” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You saw Seulgi’s eyes widening. “That’s exactly what I thought,” you said before going back to your eyeliner.

“That’s totally different, lady,” Seulgi defended herself. “Jimin and I have always been good friends, whereas you and Yoongi hated each other’s guts since day one. It’s so weird that you’re suddenly best friends forever.”

“We were stupid and we didn’t give each other a chance, now that we’ve done that, we’ve realized we’re not that different and that we have some things in common.”

Seulgi rolled her eyes. “I told you that a hundredth times, but no, you couldn’t believe me, you had to see it all for yourself.”

“Yep,” you said, happy when you saw the results of your eyeliner. “But, if it makes you feel any better, you were the one who forced us to become friends with your plan of leaving us alone at that ramen restaurant.”

“Don’t even know how that worked, it was like locking a pyromaniac in a match factory.”

“Don��t even know how that worked either,” Max mumbled.

“Hey,” you called her, but she was so absorbed in whatever she was doing with her phone that she didn’t even answer. “Earth calling to Maximiliana! Can you please stop staring at your phone and pay me attention?”

“What?” she snapped, glancing at you briefly.

You threw yourself on the bed by her side, followed by Seulgi.

“Uhh! Who are you texting?!” you exclaimed, trying to see what was on the screen of her phone.

“Let us see!” Seulgi protested.

“What the fuck! No! Don’t be so nosy!” Max protested, trying to get her phone away from you.

“Is it that girl from your dance class?” you said, wiggling your eyebrows.

By the red color adorning Max’s cheeks, you knew you had hit the nail on the head.

“AH!” Seulgi screamed. “It’s her!”

“Shut up, okay? I told her to come with me tonight to see Yoongi’s show.”

“Oh my god!” you jumped in your bed, happy as ever. “We’re finally going to meet her!”

“Please stop,” Max said, closing her eyes and sighing. “If you embarrass myself in front of her, I’ll kill you. She’s coming as a friend, nothing else.”

“Yeah,” Seulgi said, sending you a devilish smirk. “A friend.”

“A really good friend,” you said back, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You’re stupid. The both of you!”

You laughed, and finished getting ready. As you were applying your red lipstick on, your heard Seulgi’s voice.

“Y/N, don’t think you’ve distracted me from our main topic. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

. . .

If you had previously thought Verse had been packed, that night you thought it looked like a can of sardines. You could barely move, let alone walk from the main door towards

Luckily, Namjoon had been there early and had occupied your usual seat.

“This is Gabriella,” he said, introducing his girlfriend to the three of you.

You smiled at the girl, hugging her softly. She was really pretty, with dark bronzed skin, black eyes and curly, voluminous, long black hair.

“You can call me just Gabi,” she smiled. She looked really sweet.

When she turned around and you and Namjoon were staring at each other, you gave him the thumbs up, wiggling your brows as you stared at Gabriella and then back at him. He smiled and shook his head after sending you one of his cute dimpled smiles.

Everyone was nervous, not gonna lie, and even though you were sure Yoongi would ace it, you couldn’t help but feel nervous too. You knew how much that meant for him and you wanted everything to go well. You kept staring all around you, trying to make out who the talent scouts could be. You saw a couple of them with faces of talent scouts, but you didn’t know it for sure.

“Ejem, ejem,” the host said through the speaker, clearing his throat. “Goodnight everyone! How are you?!” the host tried to make the crowd interact with him. “Tonight’s a very special night here at Verse as you all know by now... It’s going to take place, in this exact same stage, the final show of our Annual Rap Battle!”

The crowd cheered loudly. You wondered if Yoongi could hear you from wherever he was.

“Are you ready for it?! Because I am!” another pause for the crowd to cheer freely. “We’ve got two amazing rappers in here tonight with us, fighting for the same dream, the same prize! The title of Verse’s Rapper of the Year and ten thousand bucks!”

Your eyes widened. If Yoongi won, he was going to become fucking rich. He better invite you to some fancy restaurant.

“If you’ve been here with us last year, and the last five years we’ve been holding this Annual Rap Battle, we’ll have many surprises here with us tonight. We’ve invited a legend, one of the greatest underground rappers of all times. He was the winner of the first Rap Battle at Verse. Cheer up for G-Dragon!”

A boy with wet-looking hair appeared on stage. He had tattoos all over his body, gold chains and hair falling all over his face. During his performance and the other performances that followed his, you couldn’t help but bounce your leg up and down trying to ease your nerves a bit. You hadn’t even paid much attention to Max as she introduced you to her girlfriend – not girl friend as she introduced her. Her name was Moonbyul. She looked introverted and shy, the exact same opposite from Max. They looked really happy together, though, and that was all that mattered.

You were nervous for Yoongi. You knew how much that performance meant for him, and you wanted him to ace it and show the world who he was and what he was capable of doing.

You were sure Yoongi hadn’t even showed you half of the potential he had, an yet, you thought it was huge. The amount of ideas that ran through his mind was insane. He could write a song faster than a person writes a text message. His mind was full of music, notes, instruments and sounds. You found it amazing, like a whole new world inside his brain.

Soon, all the performances from already-known underground rappers ended and the host as back on top of the stage.

“Well, the time has come…” he started to say, waiting for people to shut up. “It’s time to introduce our two finalist rappers!”

The noise was deafening, but your attention was on the stage.

“First, we’ll be lucky enough to contemplate the performance of one of the best underground rappers we’ve seen this year, and the previous year! No offense G-Dragon!” the host joked, pointing at the boy. He raised his hand and shook his head, laughing. “He writes his own lyrics, produces his own songs, composes his own melodies… He spits fire in the shape of words on top of this exact same stage. Ladies and gentlemen, here he is! Suga!”

Everyone around you stood from their seats, clapping and cheering.

“Suga!” you shouted, cheering loudly for the boy who was climbing on top of the stage.

Namjoon patted your back as he was standing with his girlfriend by your side.

Yoongi was wearing white for once. A white cap, white coat that reached just under his knees. But underneath it was all black. You smiled at how good he looked.

You couldn’t even sit back, too excited to care.

He greeted the host and then grabbed a mic. When the host left, it was only him and the dark stage. Only a light spotlight pointed at him.

He was going to perform Never Mind. He had written it a few years ago and had been practicing it at your apartment all day. You knew the first chords and the last ones. You liked the song, a lot. It was Yoongi, with his raspy voice pouring his everything and saying his truth.

You listened to it as if you were bewitched by Yoongi’s voice, by every word and note.

When the song came to an end, you let out a long breath, not even knowing you had been holding air in the first place. You clapped along with the rest of the crowd, but Yoongi, instead of stepping off the stage, turned around and some other flashlights lit, giving a view of the whole scenario.

There was a piano at the back.

Yoongi sat himself on the stool in front of the piano, taking off his white cap and white coat. Underneath all that, he was wearing a black suit. You had never seen him look so elegant, used to seeing him in his oversized hoodies and ripped jeans.

The claps died down again and you stopped all your movements, your lips parting as you watched him. Underneath his black suit, he was wearing an also black shirt, first buttons undone. He had never looked so good, not even on New Years Eve by the side of the Han river contemplating the fireworks. You guessed it was because of that special glow he had every time he was on top of a scenario.

The previous lights were switched off, and only the ones who pointed at Yoongi and the piano were left.

As the first few notes sounded, you were already lost.

The song talked about his childhood and about love. You knew about his thoughts in different topics such as love, politics or his favorite ice-cream flavor, but you barely knew anything about his private life. He was from Daegu and had moved to Seoul when he was sixteen trying to pursue his dreams and scape from his parents and older brother, who wanted him to work at the family restaurant. Then, anything else. You didn’t know how he was as a child, if he enjoyed Sesame Street or preferred Teletubbies, at which age he learnt how to ride a bike or what did he do during lunch break – did he play basketball or football or simply sat on the stands watching the rest of the kids play? You didn’t know about his first piercing, or his first teenage argument with his parents. You didn’t know who broke his heart for the first time nor how he mended it afterwards. And now, as you listened him sing about an old piano in the corner of his room and how it was his first love, you wanted to know about everything.

The song came to an end just like Never Mind had. You were a bit shocked, but you stood up anyways and clapped just like the rest. But, this time, Yoongi didn’t stay on top of the stage and after waving goodbye at the crowd, he bowed and disappeared behind the stage.

Zico wasn’t bad either. You liked him, he was fast and good with his words, but he didn’t have that raw passion that characterized Yoongi. You could see it, and the judges saw it too.

It was a rough competition, but as soon as Yoongi’s show had ended, you had known it would be him.

You swear you had never clapped as loudly as you clapped when the judges announced Yoongi as the winner of the Rap Battle at Verse. Your hands were hurting but you just couldn’t stop. Seeing him smile so widely while holding his trophy was more than enough. Fuck, you were whipped.

To celebrate Yoongi’s victory, you all went to some club to have some drinks and have fun. For once, you saw Yoongi let go and be free. He danced, he laughed, he drank, he was letting go of all his inhibitions.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” was all you could hear while taking another shot of tequila with Seulgi, Max and Yuna.

By the end of the night you were smashed. Yoongi wasn’t doing any better.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Namjoon asked the both of you as you got in the taxi you had called.

“Yeah!” you laughed. “More than alright!”

“Yeah!” Yoongi agreed with you.

Namjoon arched a brow as he looked at the both of you in the back of the taxi.

“He’s staying at mine, so we’ll be fine. The last neuron I have left and his last one make two neurons, more than enough to arrive home safe and sound.”

Namjoon laughed and Gabi shook her head, a smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t forget to put your seatbelts on,” he told you before closing the door of the taxi and telling the driver your direction.

In the back of the taxi, the both of you laughed about everything and anything at the same time. All you can remember is your stomach hurting and your head resting on Yoongi’s shoulder as he told you something about imagining Samuel L. Jackson as your driver, turning around just to say “Oh, sorry. Did I break your concentration?” after crashing the car on a streetlight. That was also what had you both laughing all the way towards your dorm.

“Shh!” you silenced him, your index finger pressed against your lips as you tried to open the door to your room. “People can hear us and they’ll protest.”

“Why do you care about them protesting,” he said, slurring. “I don’t give a fucccck!”

“Yoongi!” you exclaimed, rushing to clap your hands over his mouth. “Please, lower your voice or shut your damn mouth, but don’t make so much noise.”

Yoongi nodded with his head and you sighed, letting go of him and opening the door to your room finally.

“C’mon, get in,” you signaled him.

You couldn’t help but giggle at Yoongi as he stumbled into your room.

“Fuck all your dormmates!”

Before he could say anything else, you rushed to close the door and lock it, just in case someone decided to barge in and kill you both with the fire extinguisher that was right beside your door. You were done with your finals, but you knew there were other people who still hadn’t done it and were still studying.

“There are people who just want to study,” you whispered, staring at him with side eyes.

“And there are people who just want to celebrate the best day of their life. Grow some respect!”

“Yoongi!” you gasped, throwing yourself at him and covering his mouth with your hand once again in an attempt to make him shut up. He kept talking, though.

“Fou fave fuch borinf dormmatef,” he mumbled.

“They’re not boring Yoongi, they just want to study. Now promise me you’ll stop screaming and I’ll take my hands off of your mouth.”

“I fromife fou.”

“Swear it.”

“I fwear.”

“Plead for it.”

He glared at you, and you started laughing seeing his already small eyes becoming even more small as he narrowed them.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, taking your hand away from his mouth. “It was just so funny hearing you speak like that.

“Ha ha,” he scoffed.

“You want something to drink? Some beers? More alcohol? Maybe just water? I have a small fridge under my desk my mom bought me last year.”

“You have a fridge in your dorm? Whoa.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It’s really small though, just for super necessary things.”

“Do you have soju?”

“I always have soju.”

And that’s how you both ended sitting on your bed, backs resting against the wall as you drank a bottle of soju and laughed some more, this time in a lower tone. The fairy lights that hung from above your bed were the only light in the room, making it all much cozier.

“What are you going to do now that you’re Verse’s best rapper?”

“Guess I’ll take advantage of it and hook up with all the girls that go there to see me.”

You arched a brow.

“What girls? The only girls that go there to see you are Max, Seulgi and I.”

“Maybe I’ll hook up with one of you, then,” he said, a lazy smile on his lips.

You punched him in the arm.

“You wished,” you growled.

“Maybe.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Maybe? As if the decision was completely on you. If we don’t want to hook up with you, we won’t hook up with you.”

“Mhmm,” Yoongi nodded, finishing the bottle of soju in just one more gulp. “You don’t want it?”

“What? No, pfff,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not even in your wildest dreams, man.”

Yoongi leant closer to you. He smelt like orange blossom, just like the candle you had in your room that reminded you of him. He also smelt like alcohol and cheap soju.

“No?” he whispered, nudging his nose in the crook of your neck.

You closed your eyes briefly. Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest it was starting to hurt. Had it not been for the alcohol inside your system, you would have found Yoongi’s behavior weird and you would have pushed him away from you while laughing at the situation, trying to hide your own true feelings. But the truth was that the both of you were completely out of your minds, drunk as ever, and none of you could think for more than two seconds straight, letting your bodies take the lead.

“No,” you murmured, biting your lower lip and somehow crossing your legs, a weird feeling settling in between them.

“Hmm…” Yoongi mumbled, his breath tickling you.

Fuck, his lips were so close to your skin you felt as if you could go up in flames at any second. He didn’t give in, though, his lips a mere ghost over your neck.

Your eyes snapped open, a devilish glint in them. You didn’t know what got over you, but if someone asked you would blame it all on the alcohol. You pushed him away until his back was completely resting on the wall and suddenly, you were sitting on top of his thighs, straddling him.

Grabbing the empty bottle of soju from his hands and putting it away, you leant closer to him, paying him with his own medicine. You placed both of your hands on his chest.

“And you?” you asked, trying to sound seductive. That didn’t sound like you, but once again, the normal you wouldn’t be straddling his friend either. “Would you want it?”

Yoongi’s breath was erratic, you could feel it, and you took that against him. You snuggled closer to him, until his face was leveled with your cleavage. You heard him grunt.

Your fingers tangled between his strands of hair, playing with the roots softly.

“Never in a million years,” was his response.

As you looked down at him, you could see his eyes were lost on your skin, marveling in the sight of it so close to him. You smirked.

“So, you wouldn’t want me to do… This.”

You suddenly lowered your waist until your core was pressed against his. You grounded it harshly against his crotch and heard him grunt again. He was trying to contain himself.

You stopped your movements and tried to lift your waist once again, but a pair of hands stopped you from doing so. Yoongi’s grip was so tight, it almost hurt. In a sharp movement, he forced your hips down until you were grinding against him again. You felt something hard poking the inside of your thigh.

“I wouldn’t want you to stop,” he said, his voice lower than you had ever heard it.

You lifted your eyes and found his already staring at you. They almost looked pitch-black in the dim light of your dorm, sharp and small. His stare was fierce, just like the grip he had on your waist.

Smirking, you started wiggling your hips on top of his, your hands still in his hair. The room was starting to get hot, and you could feel Yoongi’s neck a bit sweaty.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Go harder.”

“As you wish,” you nodded, doing exactly what he said.

Yoongi’s eyes turned white in pure bliss, his lips parting in such an obscene way. Was that really happening? Were you dreaming while passed out on the carpet of your dorm? Had you died and were now in heaven? Your vision was so blurry you couldn’t even distinguish reality from one of your wild dreams with Yoongi. You were sure of one thing, whatever it was, you were going to make the most out of it.

To rile him up some more, you let your head fall in the crook of his neck and started moaning softly. You could feel the cotton material of your panties sticking to your core, and small waves of pleasure hitting you with every movement against Yoongi’s hard cock. Fuck, you could feel him even through the material of both of your jeans. You guessed if he could feel how wet you were for him too.

“Hm…” you moaned, especially loud for him to hear.

It made him go crazy, and he could stop him anymore. He pushed you both from the wall, him sitting on the edge of your bed and you standing in between his parted legs.

“Take off your jeans,” he demanded.

“Bossy, huh?” you teased him.

“Don’t tease me.”

“What will happen if I do?”

You were playing with fire, and you were about to get burnt.

Yoongi’s eyes glared at you and he growled in an animalistic way that sent a shiver running down your spine. You giggled as his hands brusquely grabbed the hem of your jeans and unbuttoned your jeans in a rush.

He fought with the zipper before finally undoing it and dragging the jeans down your legs. They pooled at your feet, your black socks visible underneath them.

“Step out of them,” he said.

You arched a brow, as if telling him make me.

He arched a brow back. So, you wanted to play?

He brought one of his hands behind you and smacked your ass with strength, sending you flying towards him. He grabbed your hips and kept you in place as he placed another loud smack on your ass. The boy was stronger than he looked.

“Step out of them.”

“I love being spanked, I’m not sure if I want to obey you just yet.”

He smirked and stood up, forcefully pushing you backwards. You stumbled a bit, the jeans around your ankles not letting you move.

“You wanna be nasty?” he growled, grabbing your hips and spinning you around until you were facing your bed and he was standing behind you.

Then, he pushed you without any care and you fell limply onto your bed.

You screamed, watching the wall just in front of you.

“Yoongi! I nearly leave my nose glued to the wall!” you protested, trying to turn around and face him. You started laughing, feeling his presence behind you and his hands on your hips. It was as if he couldn’t keep his hands away from you for more than a couple of seconds, his hands on your waist all the time.

He chuckled darkly from behind you, but both of your laughs died down as soon as another hard smack landed on your ass. You whimpered, not having expected the spank.

Yoongi massaged your sore ass cheek as he chuckled again. “Didn’t you love spanking?”

You swallowed, feeling him take off your socks and jeans in a quick movement before another smack was delivered to your ass.

“Answer me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I love it, I fucking love it.”

You earned another two spanks as a reward for your answer. You were gasping for air, Yoongi’s hands kneading your ass cheeks, when you felt him kneeling behind you. You craned your neck so you could see him, but you couldn’t.

“What are you doing?” you said, laughing as his fingers tickled the inside of your thighs.

Yoongi didn’t answer, he just parted your legs and positioned himself in between them.

“Yoongi,” you muttered, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

He pressed your hips further into the mattress. You laughed a bit as you fought against him. You could hear him laughing too, trying to keep you in place.

“Stay still,” he finally said, pressing you down with all his strength.

“But what are you – ? Oh,” was all you could say as you suddenly felt himself pressing kisses against your panties.

He forced you to lift your ass a bit from the bed, and he spread your ass cheeks with both of his hands as he kept trailing kisses down your underwear.

You moaned, letting your head fall onto the mattress.

With one of his hands, he parted your panties to the side so he could have access to your bare core. You could feel his breathing coming down to you, caressing your skin and playing with your dampened folds.

“Holy shit,” you growled once Yoongi’s lips attached themselves to your lower region, placing open-mouthed kisses to your glistening lips.

You gripped the mattress with all your strength. If he kept doing that, your dormmates would definitely end up knocking on your door and asking you to shut the fuck up.

His tongue worked wonders on you, no wonder why he was such a good rapper. You could feel him growling each time you whimpered or moaned, your sounds muffled by a cushion you had grabbed from the foot of the bed.

“Ah…” you gasped. “Yoongi.”

Your whole body was tense, back arched as you kept your ass high up in the air. Yoongi’s movements went from slow to fast and then back to slow, his tongue licking and swirling around your clit, and then your lips and then your entrance. It was as if he wanted to send you to another dimension, because that’s surely how you felt. As if you could burst into flames at any moment. You wondered if that’s how fireworks felt when they exploded.

“Yoongi,” you kept whining.

“Hmm…” he murmured. “Fuck, you’re so wet it’s dripping down my chin.”

At his words, you moaned and clenched your insides. Yoongi kept his ministrations, his hands still keeping your ass cheeks apart.

You could feel your orgasm growing inside your lower belly, the heat radiating from every pore of your skin. You had never been eaten out like that, as if he was starving, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your vision became blurry, and you could feel Yoongi saying something, but all you could focus was on the movements of his tongue and lips against you, the warmth spreading through your body and how good he was making you feel. On cloud nine. In ecstasy. In pure bliss.

You brought one of your hands to your back until it was grasping Yoongi’s, gripping it tightly to let him know you were about to reach your orgasm. That only encouraged him, and soon enough, you were having the best orgasm of your life.

Your body grew rigid as you came, clenching your teeth and hiding your face against the pillow.

“Fuck, this is so sexy, you’re so sexy,” he mumbled after riding you out of your orgasm.

You were gasping when you turned around to look at him. He was looking back at you, chin shiny with your juices and a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Can’t wait for you to fuck me,” you said, still breathless.

His smirk vanished and he threw himself on top of you, lips smashing against yours. His kisses were just like his rap, fierce and fast, passionate and a bit aggressive. He was all tongue and bites on your lower lip. His hands grabbing your cheek and your hair and everything, his tongue making you taste yourself in it.

Maybe, if the both of you had been in your right minds, you would have stopped it all before it was too late. Maybe, if at least one of you had been in their right mind, things would have been different.

But you were both drunk, and horny, and your hormones were like crazy, making you lose your minds for each other.

In the span of three seconds, you were both completely naked. From then on, everything was blurry to you.

You remember laughing when Yoongi fell to the floor taking off his left sock. You remember him spanking you some more for laughing at him, trying to act all serious but laughing himself. You remember him kissing you until you both felt out of breath, almost suffocating one another. You remember his hands travelling all across your body. You remember his pale skin and how beautiful it looked under your fairy lights. You remember lying in bed while watching his naked body, right in front of you, just for you. You remember how warm your skin felt after his caresses, and how loud were the moans when he started pressing kisses over your breasts.

He let you sit on top of him while he fucked you from underneath you, hands grabbing your hips as you moved them. He fucked you, with and without mercy, slow and fast. He whispered dirty things in your ear as he encouraged you to come, to go faster, to go harder. All your emotions were in overdrive, your heart beating so wildly you were starting to think it was going to pierce through your chest and fall from it.

It all was so blurry, but in your memories, his image was very clear.

You dozed off with your fairy lights still on, the sun starting to raise in the horizon and Yoongi’s arm dangling around your waist.

. . .

You were so comfy and warm inside your bed, surrounded by your blankets, that not even a bomb falling on your dorm building could have woken you up.

It was late, you hadn’t opened your eyes and looked at the clock, but from the dim light of the room and the sounds in the corridors, it was pretty late.

You stretched yourself with a content hum.

If you could just stay like that forever…

“Don’t run! Wait for me!” the voices said in the corridor, snapping you out of your thoughts.

… But you couldn’t.

Growling, you stretched once again and turned around. Before opening your eyes, you wanted to bask in the moment for some more minutes. In the end, you had nothing to do after yesterday’s… Wait.

You frowned. You had something to do, or at least that’s what your mind tells you.

You remember all that happened in the previous days. Yoongi’s nerves because of his performance at Verse, telling you he couldn’t sleep and showing up at your dorm at two AM, telling him to stay the night. Him practicing his song all day at your dorm while you watched and cheered for him. Him on stage, in front of the piano. Him winning Verse’s Rap Battle against a boy named Zico. You all going out to celebrate. You drinking as if you hadn’t seen some sort of liquid in months. And then… Oh, fuck.

Your heart stopped beating and your eyes snapped open. You were facing the wall, old and new polaroids of you, Seulgi, Max and the boys hanging from it. Your mouth felt dry and you had a horrendous headache – you weren’t sure if it had already been there but you were just noticing it then, or if it had come along with the previous night’s memories.

You stayed still, unmoving as if you had been frozen.

You were afraid that if you turned around you would came face to face with Min Yoongi, sleeping soundless and looking as beautiful as ever. You were afraid the view would make your heart beat faster that it already did every time you saw it, and you weren’t ready to get your hopes up any further.

Fuck, how could have you been so careless? You should have known, as soon as alcohol touched your system, you were a complete different Y/N, all inhibitions and worries gone.

Thoughts ran through your mind, fear, confusion, hope…

If you remembered correctly, he was the one who started teasing you… and that was until you started telling him you liked being spanked and… Oh God, no.

You covered your face with your hands, grimacing. You were embarrassed of yourself. Why couldn’t you have stopped it. You were sure Yoongi had done that because he was even drunker than you were and – just like he had confessed to you a couple of times – not having had sex in months, he was needy and horny. You were needy and horny too, but not enough to fuck up your relationship with your friend and the boy you were in love with like that.

Fuccck. You hoped you could just talk things out like the adults you were and act as if that night had never happened.

That was if Yoongi wanted to act as if that night never happened, because you were more than okay with repeating that night’s events as many times as he pleased… The company had been excellent, the sex mind blowing… No! Stop Y/N! Don’t get your hopes high!

Slowly, almost as if you were dreading it, you started turning around. The feeling of the sheets around your naked body made you cringe. You had fuck it up deep. Practicing in your mind what you would say when you came face to face with Yoongi, you finally turned around.

All words stayed inside your head and your heart felt to the pit of your stomach when all you came face to face with was an empty spot on your bed, no signs of a sleeping boy or anything like that.

Silly of you, you thought that maybe he had rolled on his sleep and fallen onto the floor, so you leaned closer to the edge of your bed and craned your neck. But just like the spot next to you on the bed, the floor was empty.

Hope is a dangerous thing that grows quickly, and you started to think that maybe he had gone to the bathroom or something, but the door to your personal bathroom was open and the inside was dark. Maybe he had gone to grab some food or he had something else to do… Something that made him leave your dorm without even telling you.

You didn’t want to feel disappointed, so you simply sat yourself up on the bed, covering your naked chest with your floral sheets. As you did so, a soft crunching noise came from underneath your left hand, the one that was propping yourself up on the bed.

You sat on your bed and analyzed the small post-it glued to your pillow.

Had to go. Don’t call me today, please.

You frowned at his words. What did he mean with ‘don’t call me today’?

You blinked a few times, suddenly realizing he hadn’t gone out to pick something to eat, nor had he gone to take a walk to clear his mind before talking to you. He had nothing to do. He had just run away, leaving a fucking post-it behind.

“What a fucking coward,” you growled, scrunching the post-it until it was nothing but a small ball of soft yellow paper. You threw it across your room and lied back on your bed.

Anger was running through your veins, the fire that you were feeling inside being stronger than any humiliation or disappointment. He wanted to run from you and forget about what happened, huh? Well, you weren’t to give him such a satisfaction.

. . .

You called him that day. All your calls went straight to voicemail.

You didn’t know where he lived, so you couldn’t show up at his apartment and punch him in his face just like you wanted to do.

Eventually, anger started dissipating and all you felt was emptiness. You were disappointed that he had reacted like that, if he wasn’t brave enough to talk to you about what had happened was because you didn’t mean as much to him as you thought you did. You were hurt. You were sad. You were frustrated because, even though he had left you alone in your bed after all that, you still missed him, so much. You still remembered that night, the bits that popped inside your mind clear as the fairy lights that hung from your bedframe. You still felt your cheeks getting reddish at the memories of him underneath you or kneeling behind you. You still felt yourself getting all hot and bothered at the memories of his voice, and his growls and… Ugh, you had to stop thinking about him.

You had just finished your second year of college! With excellent grades, to be more precise. You should be happy, ready to enjoy summer, you shouldn’t be mopping around your room, remembering him and all he did and say, going crazy at all the what ifs and what if nots. Plus, you would go home to visit your family like the previous summer, and you wanted to spend your last days in Seoul with your friends.

Max and Seulgi had been asking you to go out with them, to the amusement park, to the lake, to some party at someone’s house… And each time, you had refused, afraid that you would find Yoongi and all your bravery would leave you and you would be a blabbering and self-conscious mess in front of him.

But you should had known. You should had known Yoongi would do something like that. In the end, he had done the same at the “start” of your “friendship”. He was so brave and all, yeah, leaving his home and his family to pursue his dreams, having nothing and yet, willing to discover what life had in store for him. But when it came to other people and not just his dreams, he was a coward. Avoiding and closing off were his main weapons, you had seen him using them on other people and you had seen him using them on you.

Maybe you would further humiliate yourself for reaching out to him even though he made it pretty clear that he wanted to forget about what had happened. Maybe you would feel even more shittier afterwards, but at least you wouldn’t have that pressure on your chest anymore.

That’s why, when Taehyung suggested going camping to the lake at the outskirts of the city, you finally said yes.

As Seulgi drove, you stared out of the window. Would Yoongi go? You had asked Seulgi, Max and Taehyung not to tell anyone. If Yoongi was thinking about going to the lake with the rest of them, as soon as he knew you would go too, all his plans would change, and you wanted to see him and talk to him.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Seulgi asked you, staring at you out of the corner of her eye. “You’re distracting me from the road with all your movements and awkward coughs.”

You sighed. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

That soft reply, and not one of your brusque remarks, was what alerted Max and Seulgi. Yuna, who was sitting next to Max on the back, frowned at your words too, and she had only known you for a couple of weeks.

“Okay, this is not the Y/N we know,” Max said, leaning closer to your seat. “Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Seulgi said.

“You look distressed,” Yuna added.

You stared at her through the rearview, and she immediately tore her eyes away. Fuck, why where you being so passive-aggressive with people who didn’t deserve it? Plus, you hadn’t told anyone about yours and Yoongi’s rendezvous, maybe it would be nice to get it out of your chest.

“Yoongi and I slept together.”

Max narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, you told me he would be staying at your dorm the night he won the rap battle.”

“No, we slept together as in, we had sex.”

Seulgi gasped, and for some seconds, the car lost its position inside the lane and almost invaded the adjacent one. When she recovered from her initial shock, she straightened the car.

“Holy shit,” Yuna mouthed.

“I knew it!” Seulgi screamed. “I knew there was something going on between the two of you. You two have been acting so weird ever since that day!”

“When I woke up in the morning he was gone. He left a post-it on my pillow telling me not to call him. He has been ignoring my calls and avoiding me since that day.”

“WhAt?!” Seulgi exclaimed, the car losing its track once again.

“Seulgi, fuck, can you please focus on the road, I don’t want to die in a car crash, thanks,” Max said.

“What an asshole!” Seulgi kept saying, ignoring Max’s words.

“Min Yoongi did that?” Yuna asked. “He doesn’t look like that type of boy.”

“Yeah, none of them look like that type of boy and then… BAAAAM!” Seulgi exclaimed, letting go of the steering wheel for some seconds. You were fearing for your life. “They leave you on your bed with only a thank you note behind them.”

“At least he didn’t thank me,” you shrugged. “If he had wrote the word thanks on that post-it, I think I’d be in jail right now and he would be dead.”

“You haven’t talked with him ever since then?” Max asked.

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I tried calling him, but he won’t pick up the phone.”

“You know he’s coming with the boys, don’t you?” Seulgi asked, now sounding a bit worried.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I wanted to come. I think we need to talk things out, at least so we can both turn the page and forget about it.”

“I swear to God if he makes you sad I’ll cut his chopstick dick,” Seulgi growled.

“You mean his eggplant dick,” you corrected her. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt the need to face-palm yourself.

“What?! Girl, was it that big?!” Max gasped.

You covered your face with your hands, it felt hot in that car, fuck.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it to be like that either,” you mumbled your voice muffled by your hands.

“Oh, whoa! Min Yoongi hides it well!” Seulgi laughed.

“And… It fitted… You know?” Max asked, curiously.

“Max, God!” Yuna protested.

“What? I’m just curious, I doubt an eggplant would fit in my vagina.”

You laughed, not being able to stop yourself.

“It wasn’t huge, okay?” you said. “I only said an eggplant because Seulgi had compared it to a chopstick. It was a bit above the average size, but nothing too wild.”

“Thick or long?” Seulgi snapped.

You heard Yuna gag.

You still felt your cheeks red, but you guessed the girls were asking you all those questions to brighten your mood a bit. They all knew you loved crazy conversations like that, when they hooked up with other boys or girls you were always the one to make those kind of questions.

“More on the thick side,” you shrugged.

Seulgi let out a satisfied sigh. “Gosh, those are the best.”

“His dick wasn’t his best trait, though…” you said in a low voice, hoping they wouldn’t hear you.

You couldn’t underestimate Seulgi and Max’s abilities.

“Omg! True! You all know what they say about rappers!” Seulgi suddenly exclaimed.

“What?” Max said, confused at first, but as soon as she saw Seulgi moving her tongue out of her mouth, the idea just popped inside her brain. “Ah! The tongue technology!”

“Exactly,” you nodded.

Yuna kept gagging in the backseat. And just like that, you went from being sad and upset over Yoongi to talking about his dick.

. . .

Of course, he was there with the rest of the boys when you arrived. It was no surprise to you, but from the look on his face when he saw you stepping out of Seulgi’s car, it was a huge surprise to him.

You went to collect your bag from the back of the car, and when you stared at the spot he had first been, it was already empty. It didn’t surprise you, but it only added fuel to your frustration.

The boys had already settled the tents and made your own small camp by the shore of the lake. Taehyung had brought Yeontan, who was tied to a tree in case he ran away and got lost in the forest.

You played with Yeontan while you talked with Taehyung and Hoseok about your summer. Some of the boys and girls were playing in the water, taking advantage of the last few minutes of sun.

From time to time, you sent a glance towards Yoongi, who was sitting on top of a rock, watching Jungkook and Jimin play in the water with Seulgi and some girls Gabi had brought.

You wanted to walk towards him and just talk to him, but you stopped yourself.

As the day went by, you grew more and more uncomfortable. The fact that he was so close yet so far felt so strange after how close you had grown during the last six months. You missed him. You missed sitting by his side and just laughing at his sarcastic comments or his weird faces. You wondered if he was missing you too, if he enjoyed making you laugh as much as you enjoyed laughing at his comments and silly jokes. You wondered if he missed sitting by your side and mess around too.

But, from the looks of it, he didn’t.

He wasn’t even looking your way or paying you an ounce of his attention. He was doing such a great job at ignoring you that you were starting to think he wasn’t even trying. That he just didn’t care. After all, if you care a lot about someone, you just don’t let them go, whatever it was that happened between you and that person, you always try to talk, to fix things up, to move on.

You watched him with a bitter expression most of the night while the rest ate their hot dogs and laughed at Hoseok’s silly dances and Seokjin’s jokes. You couldn’t feel happy when your head was full of Yoongi, and what had happened and what could happen next.

It was little past midnight when you saw Yoongi stood up from his seat, the girl he had been talking to looking up at him. She was somehow also the cause of your bitterness, you mean, Yoongi could talk to whomever he wanted, he was completely free, but you couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the girl. He didn’t know her before and was already smiling at her and, at least he was being nice, while with you, when he first met you, he didn’t eve try to get to know you, he didn’t give you a chance. It was unfair.

You watched him say goodbye to the girl and wave at the rest of you, walking towards your tents, set further inside the forest. The girl pouted and scooted closer to Gabi and you.

“He was really cute,” the girl protested in a low voice, only you and Gabi being able to hear it.

You grimaced.

“Why do you say it in past tense?” Gabi laughed.

“Because he said he was tired and that he was going to sleep, we won’t be talking any more.”

“He’s going to bed, not walking out of the Earth, go talk to him.”

Your eyes widened at Gabi’s advice to her friend.

“I’m tired too, I’m going to bed,” you announced quickly, saying goodbye and standing up from your seat on the ground in a rush.

Seulgi and Max looked at you with arched brows, but you didn’t care, trying to find the path Yoongi had followed.

You found him by the shore of the lake, staring towards the dark horizon and the starry sky. The tents were just a few meters away from him, yet he had decided to stay a bit more outside to contemplate the amazing views.

As soon as he heard your footsteps, he turned around, a bit alarmed.

When his eyes landed on you, you felt your breath get caught in your throat and almost stopped dead in your tracks. He recognized you in the darkness and turned around once again without saying a word.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice confident despite your wobbling legs and frantic heartbeat.

“Talk about what?” he murmured.

You took some more steps towards him.

“What happened two weeks ago.”

He breathed in the night air, taking a minute to answer you.

“There’s nothing to talk about, then.”

You narrowed your eyes, even though he was facing his back to you and he wasn’t able to see your facial expressions.

“Are you being serious right now?” you asked, starting to feel yourself getting riled up.

“You tell me,” he turned around in a quick movement, eyes piercing into yours.

You scoffed.

“You’re such a coward, you know?”

“Says the girl who’s –“

“Don’t speak about following dreams now, this is not about following dreams and you know it,” you spat, making him shut his mouth. “Just because you risked it all just to follow your dreams, doesn’t mean you’re the bravest person on Earth. You run away each time something doesn’t go the way you wanted it to.”

“Pff,” he scoffed.

“Why are you avoiding me, then?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“And what are you doing? Pretending I don’t exist?”

Yoongi didn’t answer to you, simply turning around once again and facing his back to you. The weather was warm, but the heat you were feeling through your body had nothing to do with the weather. You couldn’t believe Yoongi was acting like that, he was back to being that rude and cold boy you first met when you accidentally spilled his iced americano all over him.

“That won’t make what happened disappear from your mind,” you continued. If he wanted to be left in peace, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Talking won’t probably make you forget either, but at least we’ll sort things out. I know you feel embarrassed about what happened, but I feel embarrassed too, the only difference here is that apparently I’m the only one who cares enough about this friendship to overcome that embarrassment and talk things out.”

You waited for Yoongi to say something, but he stood still.

You shook your head. “I’ve been so naïve all these past months, thinking I was a friend to you… I told you everything about me, but you never opened up yourself to me, that should have been the first warning. And now, the first ‘issue’ we have, you run away and completely avoid me. That’s cool to know, thanks for showing me your true colors.”

You turned around, determined to go back to where the group was and act as if nothing had happened.

“What do you want me to do about it, huh?” you heard the voice of Yoongi from behind you.

You turned around, he was facing you again. Should you talk to him? Or should you act as immaturely as him and keep walking away from him? You gulped. If you wanted him to act maturely, you guessed you should start acting maturely too. And acting maturely meant stopping running away from your feelings too. If you were going to lay your cards on the table, you better lay all of them.

“I want you to tell me if what happened two weeks ago changes something between us,” you said, your voice low.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes.

“Of course it changes what’s between us, it changes everything,” he said. “It was stupid of the both of us. It ruined everything. Nothing’s ever going to be the same, don’t you see it?”

He raised his voice with every word, sounding angry and frustrated.

“Of course I see it!” you said, raising your voice too. The anger you had been bottling up for the past two weeks coming to the surface. “That’s exactly why I wanted to talk about it, because I don’t want it to change us!”

“But we can’t erase what happened, we can act as if didn’t happen, try to forget about it, but nothing will ever be the same, don’t you realize it? Talking is useless, our friendship is already ruined!”

A thick silence followed his words, only interrupted by the sounds of the cicadas and the distant laughs of your friends.

You narrowed your eyes at Yoongi, feeling your heart shattering in a million pieces. Was it disappointment what you were feeling?

“So you’re just going to let what we did two weeks ago while we were drunk ruin everything? I thought our friendship was important enough for you not to let it slip so easily.”

“It doesn’t matter how important it was, Y/N,” he said. “We had sex. We fucked, for fuck’s sake. I can’t erase the memories from my head, I can’t stare at you the same way. Do you think I can go to your dorm and lay on your bed watching movies with you and be comfortable again?”

“Yeah,” you said, not giving in. “If you wanted to, yeah, you could. It won’t be easy, but it looks like you’re not willing to make the effort.”

“No, maybe I’m not,” he said, shaking his head. With every word, he hurt you a bit more. “Because I’ve been in this position before, and I know how it ends. I’m not willing to go through the same shit twice.”

“Go through the same shit…” you repeated, your voice low and eyes focusing on your old black Converse. “That’s how you truly think?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t the way I think.”

You lifted your eyes. You wanted to cry but somehow the tears wouldn’t fall. “Then, we’ve already talked about everything. We’ll forget about what happened and we’ll forget about each other, simple as that. You agree?”

“Yeah” he breathed. He didn’t even hesitate about his answer.

You scoffed. It was such a shame to lose a friendship like the one you shared, but you guessed you were the one who was losing more than a friend.

You opened your mouth to say something else, anything, but no words would come out. You had already said everything you wanted to say. There was no point in prolonging that conversation.

You shrugged and shook your head. That was how your friendship would end? It looked like it was.

You gave him one last look, but it was brief, because you felt as if you couldn’t hold your tears back anymore. Turning around quickly, you walked towards your tent and away from Yoongi as fast as you could. He didn’t try to stop you, nor did he try to stop you when you picked a bus back to the city first thing in the morning.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

What is in a Name?

Rating: T

Genre: Family Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 6385

Summary: Simon and Baz's teen son, Ebb, is having problems. Simon helps him through it.

Read on AO3

AN: I've written lots of parent fics, but it's usually when the kids are young and/or it's focused on their fictional daughter Tasha. So I wanted to do a fic with teen kids and more focused on their fictional son Ebb.  I wrote most of this in like a 3am writing frenzy so sorry for spelling mistakes, I tried to get all of them. Also disclaimer: I'm not a parent, but I tried to do my best. My own amazing parents are super open about their parenting philosophy so I tried to base a lot of this on them. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

When the door slams hard enough to make the entire house rattle, I jump slightly. It’s just a natural reaction to loud noises, no matter how funny Baz thinks it is. I bend my head out of the kitchen just in time to get a glimpse of my son stomping past me.

“Hey, Ebb,” I say. “How was the skatepark?”

Ebb doesn’t answer, just grunts as he goes towards his room. Unfortunately that’s normal nowadays. I hear him stomp up the stairs and slam his bedroom door just as hard. I sigh and shake my head.

I thought Tasha’s teen years were tough, and they were, but Ebb’s are bad in a different way. He’s embarrassed by his cracking voice so he barely speaks, he spends most of his time in his room, and any emotions he has he seems to take out on his wall. There are dirty footprints to prove it. Baz grumbled about cutting off our son’s feet. I had to remind him that we’re not supposed to mutilate our children, no matter how much expensive paint they scuff.

As I’m chopping carrots for the stew, I hear another door opening, then the soft padding of Baz’s fuzzy socks. He wears them over his regular ones. Because of his naturally low body temperature, he still spends a good part of the summer in about three layers.

“Why is Ebb trying to break the house?” he asks bitingly, though he does sound curious too.

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “He doesn’t tell me anything anymore.”

Baz huffs and takes a seat on at the breakfast bar. “Me neither. It’s a miracle if he’ll say more than five words to me in a day.”

I chuckle, dumping carrots in the instant pot. “Lucky. I usually just get grunts.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I wish he would just tell us why he’s upset. We’ve always told him he can talk to us.”

I shrug. “Well, we can tell him all we want but that doesn’t mean he’ll do it. You and I both know teenagers rarely do what they’re told.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” He leans over the counter. “At least Ebb and Tasha aren’t fighting super villains.”

“Or being a dick to their roommates who they’re in love with.”

He leans closer, a playful smile on his lips. A few silver strands of hair fall in his face. Baz was incredibly relieved when he first started going grey, but now the vain bastard thinks he looks old. I keep assuring him he looks distinguished.

“But it all worked out in the end, remember?”

I lean forward on my elbows. Our noses brush together. We may be in our forties but we still act like sappy teenagers in love sometimes. Old habits die hard. “That it did.”

Honestly, kissing over a counter isn’t the weirdest way of I've kissed Baz. Burning forest still takes the cake, thankfully. But it's still nice. Twenty seven years and two kids later and I haven't tired of kissing him. I don't think I ever will.

I'm so caught up in kissing my husband I guess I don't hear the front door close and footsteps approaching us.

“Gross,” a very familiar voice says. “You're going to get spit in our supper.”

We pull apart, and Baz sighs with a smile. “Hello to you too, Tasha.”

Tasha walks up to Baz hugs him around the shoulders, a big slightly shit eating grin  on her face. “Hi, Papa.”

“What, I don’t get a hug?” I ask with my own grin.

Tasha rolls her eyes. (Sometimes she’s so much like Penny it scares Baz, and me too a bit.) She strolls over, black curly ponytail bouncing, and squeezes me tight. I squeeze her back just as hard. “There, that better, Dad?”

“Very much.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, darling. How was work?”

“Boring,” she sighs. “One lady spent half an hour trying on different jeans and didn’t buy any of them.

“Rude,” I say as I start the instant pot.

“Retail is truly a trail of endurance,” Baz adds all philosophical. I snort.

“You’ve never worked retail.”

Baz glares. “Neither have you, Mr. Bag of Gold.”

“I was a barista at the college coffee shop though.”

“How good was that coffee?” Tasha asks with a little smirk. Baz snickers. She’s a lot like him too.

I glare at my snarky daughter. “Shouldn’t you being doing homework or something, little miss?”

Tasha glares right back. “First of all, I’m seventeen, I’m not little anymore. Second, it’s summer, so no homework.”

“Then go make some homework, I don’t know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that, Dad.” She starts walking away, bag slung over her shoulder. “First, I’m going to get changed. Call me down for supper?”

“We’ll use the Alexis thing,” I call to her as she goes up the stairs.

“Alexa,” Baz sighs.

I wave my hand dismissively. “Whatever. Amazon talky lady that lets you play morose violin music.”

He giggles, shaking his head. That’s still the most beautiful sound I’ve ever head. “Well, that’s at least accurate.” He looks down at our slightly scuffed instant pot. “How long on the stew?”

I look at the bright blue timer. “Um, forty five minutes.”

“Good.” He offer his hand like the proper gentleman he is. “Want to cuddle and watch Great British Bake Off?”

I grin and take his hand, the metal of his ring pressing into my skin. “Absolutely.”

And I let my husband lead me towards our couch. But just as we sit down, we hear a loud thumping from the room directly above us. Baz winces slightly. With his super hearing it’s probably way louder. He sighs, slumping against me.

“We never should’ve gotten Ebb that bluetooth speaker for Christmas,” he groans.

I shrug, rubbing my hand over his stomach. He still likes that a lot. “Too late now. Let’s just watch the telly.”

Baz curls around me like an affectionate cat. “Sounds good to me.”

I hum happily and pull him closer “Awesome.”

I turn on our next Bake Off episode. We get so involved in all the cake and pastry drama we barely hear Ebb’s extremely loud emo music. I hope he’s alright. He does this a lot, shutting himself in his room and being angsty. Usually it’s over simple stuff we can’t fix, so we’ve learned to just give him his space until he calms down. But still, he’s my kid. I’m always worried about him. So I hope he’s okay.

———————————————

“Alexis, announce supper is ready,” I say. The stupid black tube doesn’t respond. How are these things supposed to make life more convenient? It’s more useless than my magic used to be.

“Alexa,” Baz calls out from the dining room, “announce supper is ready.”

The black cylinder of frustration rings this time. I frown “Why does it only listen to you?”

“Because I call it by it’s proper name.”

I grumble as I bring in the last bowl. Stupid technology, worse than magic.

Oh Crowley, I sound so fucking old.

I hear Tasha jump down the stairs. (She’s been doing that since she was six.) She enters the dining room, dressed in her Watford Lacrosse sweater and grey trackies, curls piled up on top of her head in some sort of bun.

“Mm, smells good,” she says as she sits down. She immediately goes for her spoon.

“Manners, darling,” Baz scolds kindly. Tasha frowns and cross her arms. She keeps reminding us of how old she is, but she definitely still acts like my little girl sometimes.

“Ebb?” I call up the stairs. “You coming down for supper, love?”

Soon enough, we hear Ebb’s heavy thumps descending. He’s been thumping around a lot recently. Baz jokes that our son is turning into a numpty, and I’ve made him promise to never say that in front of him. Ebb doesn’t need any more issues from us. He stomps in, upper body almost totally hidden by an oversized black sweater. When he sits, I can see his deep scowl. Well, whatever is going on definitely hasn’t resolved. Maybe we’ll talk after supper if he wants.

I put Ebb’s stew bowl in front of him. He grunts in acknowledgement, which is pretty good nowadays. Before I sit down, I make sure to kiss the top of kids’ heads. I’ve done it every supper we’ve had together since they were born. Baz says it’s cheesy, but still thinks it’s sweet. I just want Tasha and Ebb to always know they’re loved, because I never felt that as a kid and I wish I had.

So I lean over and kiss Tasha’s head. She groans with a smile. I lean over to Ebb, but he shifts away, crossing his arms over his chest. I try to hide the way that stings. Well, when kids get older sometimes they don’t always like their dad kissing the top of their head. Tasha told me to stop embarrassing her with it when she was fifteen. She said it was okay again a few months later. Maybe that’ll happen with Ebb too. I don’t know. I hope so...

I sit down, and Baz gives me a sympathetic look from across the table. I smile back at him, trying to say, “I’m okay.” Which I am. Ebb is allowed to do what he wants with his body, that comes before my feelings.

“Let’s eat,” Baz says grandly.

We all unfold our napkins and put them in our laps. (Baz has finally taught me manners over the decades.) All of us eat in relative silence for awhile. I don’t mind, I want to enjoy the stew. Ebb is somehow able to eat while still scowling. Did he learn to do that from Baz or all on his own? Either way, it’s impressive, in a moody teenager way.

“How was work today, love?” Baz asks.

It takes me a second to realise he’s talking to me and not Tasha. I swallow my beef before speaking. “It was good. Lily is finally learning how to make crafts without eating the glue.”

Tasha’s brow furrows. “Do kids really try to eat glue?”

“Oh yeah, lots of glue. And crayons. And dirt. And those massive LEGO bricks. It’s my job to keep them from doing it.”

“Dad, remind me to never become a nursery teacher.”

I give her a “really?” look. She smirks and continues eating. How did I raise such a sarcastic daughter? I blame Baz. And Penny.

“How was your work today?” I ask Baz.

Baz shrugs. He’s picked up on a lot of my habits over the years. “It was alright. Filed some reports, did a few conference calls, had leftover pasta for lunch.”

“Working from home is going well then?” Tasha says between bites.

“Definitely. No more morning commutes on the tube is wonderful.”

I point my fork accusingly at him. “But it also means you don’t get outside enough. You’re going to get even paler, love.”

He waves dismissively with a small smile. “Not possible.”

“We’ll see,” I laugh. I look over at Ebb, who is still scowl eating. I should try to make him feel included. “How was your day, Ebb? Do any cool moves at the skatepark?”

“No,” Ebb grumbles. Well, that’s the first word he’s said to me all day. Baby steps.

“Oh, uh, well that’s a bummer. I bet you’ll do more next time.”

“How are you doing on the half pipe?” Baz asks. “You told me you were doing well last-”

Ebb slams his fork down so hard the table rattles. The crashing sound rings out through the room. Baz looks very taken aback, and slightly in pain. Loud noises up close don’t mix well with his vampire hearing. Tasha and I are just stunned with our backs perfectly straight. Ebb glares at both Baz and I with rageful fire in his eyes.

“Why the fuck did you name me after a bloody Christmas Carol character?!” he shouts.

The whole house is silent. Honestly, I’m too stunned to speak. Baz and Tasha seem to be in the same situation. Ebb glares at us for another few seconds before violently pushing his chair away and storming off. He stomps hard to his room, then slams the door even more forcefully than when he came home.

We stay in stunned silence for another few minutes. I gape at Baz, mouth opening and closing like a fish. His eyes are wider than saucer plates. Tasha is just looking at her food, pushing around hunks of carrots.

“Well,” Baz finally sighs, “that was something.”

“Understating that a bit, Papa,” Tasha says, eyes flicked up. I just nod, mouth still hanging up. I’m still processing stuff.

“Thank you for the commentary, Tasha.” His eyebrows get all scrunchy. “Hasn’t Ebb heard about Ebb Petty around school?”

Tasha shakes her head. “Probably not. I didn’t hear about her until you guys told me, then in class. And learning about The Battle of The Mage has been moved to fifth year magickal history. Headmaster decided it was too grim for the younger kids.”

Baz scoffs. “Well, she has a point. But I suppose Ebb will need at least part of that lesson early.” He looks back at me. “I think you should go talk to him, Simon.”

I shake my head out, finally breaking the shocked spell. “Uh, wait, why me? You’re better at this serious stuff.”

“Because I gave Tasha the talk on her namesake. Now it’s your turn.”

“Could we rock, paper, scissor to do it?” I say with a strained smile.

Tasha’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do you two seriously ‘rock, paper, scissor’ on parenting decisions?”

“No,” Baz says immediately. But when Tasha fixes him with an accusatory look (she’s very good at that), and he shifts uncomfortably. “Occasionally. Not on big things. Usually on who has to help you monsters with the dishes when we’re both tired.”

Tasha shakes her head and goes back to her food. I was only half kidding, really. Baz looks back at me. “Honestly, love, you’ll be better at explaining this. You’re the one who picked his name, and I think you’ll explain its significance the best.”

I chew on my lip, drumming my fingers on the table. I’m nervous. It’s not like I haven’t had hard talks with my kids before. But I still get nervous. I never had parents growing up (the Mage does not count even a bit), so I don’t have any blueprints for this. I've read books and learned from others to make up for it, but I’m always scared I’ll mess them up by accident. Baz assures me I’m not, that I'm a good dad, but that fear doesn’t go away. And from the look on his face, he knows I’m thinking about that again. We’ve gotten good at figuring each other out over the years.

Baz reaches across the table, holds my hand and squeezes. You’ll do great, he says with just his expression. I let out a breath and squeeze back. “Alright, be back in a bit.”

“Alright,” Baz says kindly. “The photo is still in the upstairs hall.”

“Okay.” I get up and start making my way down the hall. As I’m ascending the stairs. I hear Tasha say something.

“Papa, was I this bad when I was thirteen?”

“No,” Baz replies, “you were worse.”

The following snicker tells me Tasha has thrown something (probably her napkin) at Baz’s face. I stifle my loud snort. Ebb doesn’t need to think I’m laughing at him.

I walk down the upstairs hall. Ebb’s room is right at the end. Before I go in, I grab a particular photo on the wall. It’s not the original polaroid, since Fiona wanted to keep it. But it’s a good copy. I’m glad we have it. I like to look at it.

I get to Ebb’s door. It’s covered in KEEP OUT signs he printed off the internet. I knock firmly, but not too loud. “Ebb? Can I come in?”

“Go away!” he shouts. I know he’s trying to be forceful, but his voice cracks, which takes away a bit of the impact. Do not laugh, Simon, don’t you dare laugh. You’re supposed to be a good father, dammit.

“I know you want to be alone, but I really think we need to talk.”

There’s a short silence, only filed with the faint sound of creaking springs. Ebb must be rocking or shuffling on his bed.

“Are you gonna yell at me?” he asks. He sounds so small and nervous. It reminds me that no matter how moody or rude he is, he’s still my little boy, who cried because he couldn’t fit all his plush toys on his bed and he didn’t want any of them to feel left out. He’s not some monster, even if he was being a bit of a brat earlier.

“No, love,” I say kindly, “I’m not going to yell. I just want to talk.”

I wait through another short silence with mattress squeaking. “Okay,” he finally says.

I open the KEEP OUT door and enter Ebb’s room. He covered it in punk and metal band posters a few months ago. A lot of them are from Fiona. She’s very happy to “finally have someone in this family with good music taste.” (Sixty four years old and she’s still as punk as ever.) Ebb is sitting on his bed, back against the wall, oversized hoodie over his pulled up knees. The hood is up and the collar is pulled up to his freckled nose. He looks like a black blob. His curly dark hair is falling in his face. It reminds me of Baz when we were teenagers. He’s even got the same sort of haircut. Part of me wonders if he found an old picture of Baz and took it to the hairdresser.

I sit down on the end of the bed, giving Ebb space but not sitting too far away.

“Hi,” I say with a soft smile, showing him that I’m really not going to shout.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks. He’s trying to sound normal, but I hear the nervous twinge.

“No,” I sigh. “Honestly, I’m a bit disappointed, but I’m not mad. You know Papa doesn’t like loud noises, and I wish you would have talked with us calmly without making a scene.”

He burrows deeper into the hoodie, looking down at his knees. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” I shift a bit closer. “You get to be a pissy teenager sometimes, it’s normal. God knows both me and Papa were.” That makes him smile a little. “But I’m the dad, so it’s my job to reign you in.”

He nods and emerges slightly from his sweater. “Okay.”

I grin, putting my hand on the bed near him. “Good, glad we’ve got that sorted. Now let’s talk about why you were upset.” Ebb frowns and goes back into his sweater. Parenting is two steps forward, one step back sometimes. “I’m guessing something happened with your name. Did someone make fun of it?”

Slowly, still beneath all that black fabric, Ebb looks up with his big brown eyes. I can’t see his mouth but I assume he’s pouting or frowning. “Yeah...”

My heart breaks a bit. I can’t help it. I know bad things will happen to him, it’s inevitable, but it still hurts me when my kid gets hurt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-It wasn’t that bad, really.”

“Doesn’t matter how bad it was, love, you can talk about it.”

Ebb emerges more, his arms moving more into his lap so he can fiddle with his fingers.  “It was Dylan.”

“One of your Normal friends?”

“Yeah. He’s usually cool but he can be an arsehole sometimes.”

“Language, darling.”

He looks away. “Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s alright. So Dylan made from of your name?”

“Uh-huh. He asked me what ‘Ebb’ meant, and I said it was short for Ebenezer. Then he started laughing. I asked him why he was doing that, and he said he couldn’t believe my dads named me after the guy from Christmas Carol. I didn’t know what that was so I asked and he laughed at me more. Then he got everyone else to laugh with him. It was super embarrassing.”

I shift closer and put a hand on his knee. He doesn’t shove me off, so I keep it there. “I’m sorry, love, that sounds terrible. Kids can be really mean.”

Ebb blows air out his nose and nods. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t know. I just hated feeling stupid, y’know?”

I chuckle. It’s actually really good I’m doing this. Baz would do well, of course, he’s a great father, but this is definitely more my territory. “Yes, I really know that, darling. I completely understand. I felt stupid all the time as a kid.”

“Really?” he says with a surprising amount of shock. “But you’re so smart!”

“That’s very sweet, Ebb,” I say, still laughing a little. “But at your age, I didn’t think I was smart at all. I could barely speak properly, I needed Aunt Penny to tutor me in every class, and I was the worst mage ever.”

“I thought you were the Chosen One.”

“Yeah, but that was because of a prophecy and me exploding a lot. That didn’t mean I was any good at magic back then.”

He nods thoughtfully, similar to Baz when he’s reading. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Glad to hear I make sense for once.” I move so I’m right pressed against his legs. “I really get why you were mad, Ebb. Dylan was being a jerk and that sucks. You’re allowed to be upset. Now I’m here to tell you something he doesn’t know.”

“Oh?”

I lean forward, a big grin on my face. “Dylan is a big dummy, because you’re not named after a Dickens character.”

Ebb’s eyes go wide, lips falling open. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m pretty sure I remember who I named you after.”

“Who was it then? Ebenezer isn’t a really common name...”

“No, it’s definitely not.” I motion at him with my hand. “C’mon, sit here. I’ve got something to show you.”

Ebb cautiously emerges from his hoodie cocoon, and sits next to me on the edge of the bed. He’s not pressed up against me but he’s very close. I flip over the picture frame. According to Fiona, she took this during summer break in a bar in Scotland. It makes sense. All three of them look properly sozzled in the photo.

“What’s this?” Ebb asks.

“Well, it’s a photo,” I say. Ebb knocks my shoulder.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” he groans. “Just tell me, Dad.”

“Fine fine, if you insist. This is a photo from a very long time ago.” I point to seventeen year old Fiona’s smiling flushed face. “That right there is your Great Aunt Fiona when she was a teenager.”

“She doesn’t like us calling her Great Aunt. Says it makes her feel old.”

I snort, but it’s with kindness, I swear. “Yeah, that sounds like Fiona. But back to my point, that’s her when she went to Watford.” I move over to a familiar blonde man. The sight of his face doesn’t make my blood boil like it used to, but there’s a small ache. “That's her friend from school, Nicodemus Petty.”

Ebb’s face screws up. “Nicodemus? Really?”

“Yeah, and you thought your name was bad, kid.” He snorts and smiles. I feel like I’ve accomplished at least something. I bring my finger over to the last person. She’s grinning too, longish blonde hair falling in her face. Looking at her gives me a small ache too but in a different way. “And that, is Fiona’s other friend and Nicodemus’ twin sister, Ebeneza Petty. Everyone called her Ebb.”

I watch as Ebb’s eyes go incredibly wide. His fingers curl over the wooden picture frame. I let him take it from me. He holds it in his lap, staring at it. “That’s who I’m named after?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m named after a girl?”

“Yes, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t let your Aunt Penny catch you talking like that.”

His mouth twists around with shame, so I think he gets it. He keeps staring at Ebb Senior’s face. “But, why did you name me after her?”

I knew that question was inevitable. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say in my head, but nothing really works perfectly. Oh well. Have to try my best.

“Well,” I sigh, “a lot of reasons. Biggest one was that Ebb was just a good person and I wanted to honour her. When I first met her, she was kind to me. She didn’t treat me like a Chosen One or a weird sort of Normal group home kid, she was just nice. I’d never had an adult simply be nice to me before her.”

“So, she was like your mum?”

I shake my head. “No, she wasn’t a mum. Ebb was just my friend, but she was a really good one. She listened to my problems and helped however she could, usually gave me advice and such. Sometimes she just let me hang out at her house. It gave me an escape from all the stuff I was going through. She let me just be a kid with her.” I sigh, mind going back to the memories of tea and little china goats. “I admired her a lot too, honestly. Ebb was super powerful like me, but she never let that define her. Y’know what she did for most of her life?”

“What?”

“Herded goats on the Watford grounds.”

Ebb starts giggling. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. She herded goats, lived in a little cottage on the field, made tea, and that was about it. But that’s all she wanted to do. Ebb never let anyone tell her what she had to be. She was incredibly strong that way.”

Ebb looks up at me, sadness in his eyes. “You’re talking about her in the past tense. Does that mean she’s dead? Like Grandma Natasha?”

I sigh, then nod slowly. My heart is aching a bit more. “Yeah, she passed away a long time ago, love.”

“How did she die? Was she just really old or sick or something?”

I wish, I almost say. But that feels a little too sarcastic right now. “Well, the whole story is a bit too long and sad for right now. I’ll tell you all of it one day. But essentially Ebb sacrificed herself. She saved your Auntie Agatha’s life and lost her own because of it.” I stare at younger Ebb’s smiling face in the picture. I feel a few tears well up and I push them away. “Ebb didn’t want to be a hero, and she never should’ve been put in that position, yet she was one in the end, i guess. Because she was too much of a good person to let someone get hurt.”

“Do you miss her?”

I look down at him with a small smile. “Sometimes. Not as much as I used to, but the sadness comes back every once in awhile. Just like Papa and Grandma Natasha.”

I don’t tell him that I’m honestly mostly angry. Ebb never wanted to be a hero, and the magickal world just wouldn’t leave her alone. She should still be here, taking care of her goats, living in her cottage, being nice to my kids the way she was nice to me. But she’s not. And that’s so horribly wrong.

“Dad? Are you alright?”

I look at Ebb, my Ebb, again. He looks concerned. No matter how pissy he is, he’s still very empathetic and kind. He’s a good kid. Maybe I’m actually doing a good job as a parent. Maybe the older Ebb would be proud of me. At the very least, she’d be very happy for me. All she ever wanted was for me to be happy, and I am. I put an arm around my Ebb’s shoulder, and he leans into me.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m good, love.” I look him in the eye to make sure he’s listening. “Now, I’m not telling you all this to guilt you about being embarrassed over your name. You don't have to like it any more or less now. And if you want to change it, that's totally cool. Your Papa and me want you to be happy, and if that means going by a different name, okay. We’ll always love you no matter what. I’m just telling you so you understand where Ebenezer came from and why we picked it. Also so you know,” I poke his nose, making his face pinch up, “that we would never, ever name you after a Dickens character.”

Ebb laughs loudly. It snorty and raucous. My heart soars. That’s a sound I haven’t heard in awhile. How I’ve missed it.

“Okay,” he giggles, “I believe you.”

“Good, glad that’s all cleared up.

He smiles softly, leaning his head on my shoulder. He’s getting taller every day. I keep whining about how big our kids are getting and Baz just rolls his eye and tells me to not be sad over the inevitable. Tosser. I know he’s going to be a mess when they move away.

“I think I’ll stick with Ebb for now,” he says half into my shirt.

I squeeze his shoulder and kiss his head. (Well, his hoodie.) “Okay. Whatever you want.”

Suddenly, he throws both arms around me, hugging me tight. I’m shocked for a second. It’s been awhile since he’s hugged me, let alone this hard. “I love you, Dad.”

Well, my heart has melted into my shoes. I’m reminded of what Malcolm told me after Tasha was born. He only started having actual conversations with me after her. Maybe he felt we finally had something in common. He told me that being a parent is frustrating and rage inducing at times, but there will always be moments that remind you why you wanted to be one in the first place. This is probably (definitely) one of those moments.

I hug Ebb back. “I love you too, darling. Always will, no matter what.”

We hug for a little while. I savour it, a small part of me wondering when this will happen again. I like hugging my son, sue me. Eventually, Ebb pulls back slightly. He wipes his eye and nose with his hand. I grab the tissue box and hand it to him. I may have unbreakable poor hygiene habits, but I can teach my kids better ones.

“Wanna go watch Doctor Who?” I ask as he blows his nose.

“Okay,” he replies. “Are there still ice cream bars in the freezer?”

I grin and stand up, offering my hand. “Yup. We should raid them.”

Ebb smiles and takes my hand. He holds on tight. So do I. I’ll let him hold on as long as he wants.

We go back downstairs. Tasha’s upbeat pop music is playing from the kitchen. I’m not surprised to see her spinning and dancing with a dish towel in one hand and wand in the other. Little fireworks burst from the tip in time with the song. Baz is leaning over the sink, just finishing up with the last pot. He’s pointedly not acknowledging the music, save for tapping his foot. He’s still pretentious as anything, especially when it comes to music. Our eyes meet. He mouths “okay?”, and I nod.

I feel Ebb let go of my hand and watch him walk over to Baz. He throws his arms around Baz and mumbles a “sorry, Papa” into his shirt. Baz smiles, hugging Ebb back and whispering what I can safely assume is him accepting the apology and saying he loves him. Both Baz and I say “I love you” as much as we can. He didn't hear it a lot growing up and I didn't hear it at all. We want to make sure our kids will never wonder if they're loved or not.

Ebb looks up at Baz, chin digging into his chest. "Dad said we could have ice cream bars while we watch Doctor Who."

Baz raises his eyebrow at me. I smile sheepishly. "Did he?"

"Uh-huh."

"I see. Well then, someone will have to go to the basement freezer."

Ebb frowns. "I got them last time. It's Tasha's turn."

"No!" Tasha shouts. "I did it last time!"

Baz looks to me. "Do you remember who did it last time?"

I shake my head. "No clue."

Tasha and Ebb look at each other. It seems like they're communicating via telepathy. Baz says it's a sibling thing, that I wouldn't get it because I'm an only child. I don't have to have a sibling to know it's fucking weird.

"On three?" Tasha says.

"Loser cleans the stove?" Ebb replies.

"Deal." She throws her cleaning rag on the counter. "One...three!"

Tasha dashes off. Ebb pushes off Baz and runs after her. "Hey no fair!"

We listen as they run through the house. I walk forward and Baz immediately pulls me to him. I relax instantly. He’s always a solid weight I can lean against when I'm tired. His arms are steel bands across my back. I sigh against his neck.

"It went well?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I say. "Some kid made fun of his name and made him feel dumb. I told him that the kid was a jerk, that I know how he felt, and he definitely wasn't named after the guy from Christmas Carol."

Baz chuckles, running his hand up and down my back. "We may be mad but we're not cruel."

"Exactly. I told him about Ebb so he knows where his name really comes from."

"Did you tell him the whole story?"

I shake my head. "No, just that Ebb was a really nice person I loved, who sacrificed herself to save Agatha. We'll have to tell him the whole story one day though, before he learns about it in class.”

“Yes, very true. Let’s hope Ebb will understand it as well as Tasha did.”

“He will. He’s smart, he’ll be able to handle it.”

“Agreed.” He slowly runs his fingers through my hair. It’s not as thick and curly as it used to be, but Baz still loves to do that. “You did a good job, love. A+ parenting.”

My grin spreads across my face. I’m not smug, more relieved than anything. It’s nice to hear that I’m not fucking up my son. And I know Baz wouldn’t outright lie to me to make me feel better. He really means it. I’m doing alright. I’m giving my kids good childhoods, far better than anything I ever had. That’s all I want.

“Tasha! I touched them first!” I hear Ebb shout, followed by jumping steps coming up from the basement. Tasha literally slides into the kitchen on her socks. She holds up the book of fudge bars in front of us.

“Got them, I win!” she says with the biggest shit eating grin.

“Cheater!” Ebb stands at the doorway with hands on his hips. I don’t say it, but now his hood has fallen off, and with his loose curly hair and tons of freckles (he’s got more than Tasha and me combined), he looks like a pissed off fairy. He’s so adorable. “I touched the box first but she grabbed it before I could!”

Baz and I give each other with a “are we supposed to resolve this?” expression.

“Well, we don’t know the rules of this race,” I say.

“Except that the loser has to clean the stove,” Baz interjects. “So compromise, you both clean the stove.”

“Papa!” they both whine.

I flick his ear. Baz flicks my side in retaliation. This is the closest to our old brawls we get nowadays.

“Let’s have ice cream and watch telly first,” I say, taking the box from Tasha. “Then we’ll figure out what to do with the stove.”

“Fine,” Ebb sighs. “Can I pick the episode?”

“As long as it’s not the library. That one gives you nightmares.”

He frowns, though it’s closer to a pout. “Does not.”

“Does too.”

I open the box and start doling out the last four ice cream bars. Tasha snatches hers with a chirpy “thank you!” and runs to the living room. She wants to grab her favourite spot on the couch. Baz takes one and kisses my cheek. Finally, I give one to Ebb.

“Thanks,” he says with a soft smile. I’m pretty sure he’s talking about more than just the ice cream. I put my arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t flinch away at all.

“You’re very welcome, Ebb. Always.”

He leans on me again, putting an arm around my waist. “Do you think the other Ebb would’ve like me?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “She would’ve adored you.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You’re amazing and strong and unashamed to be yourself. How could she have not loved you?”

He blushes with embarrassment, but smiles all the same. “Okay. I think...I think I would've liked her too.”

I grin, then kiss his soft, curly head. He doesn't pull away. “C’mon, let’s watch some David Tennant.”

We walk into the living room. Tasha is already in favourite corner with her feet on the ottoman. Baz is on the other side with his arm over the back of the couch. I sit next to my husband of course, and he pulls me close, rubbing my shoulder slowly. Ebb sits between Tasha and I, leaning his back on my side and putting his legs over Tasha’s lap. She tries to push him off but all that skateboarding has made his legs strong. Eventually Tasha relents with a huff. Baz gets the Amazon lady to dim the lights and start the episode Ebb picks.

We watch the show in relative quiet. Tasha makes snarky comments every once awhile, and Ebb pokes her with his toe, telling her to shut up. Baz calls them both annoying chatterboxes, but with lots of love in his voice.

It’s perfect.

———————————————

AN: Aw, what an adorable family. Tbh I just really the idea of Simon and Baz having kids. They would be good parents imo. And it's fun to explore in writing, cause I feel like both of them would have fears based off their own childhoods. I've done some stuff about that before and I like writing about it. Hope you all liked reading it. Until next time :D

[mittensmorgul]

not a strictly spn question, but, as someone who wants to start writing, how the ever-loving fuck do you pump out so many fics so fast?? i’ve been working on outlining the same three stories for like a year (not really) ((but kinda))

Hi there, and congrats on that much outlining! I… don’t outline that much, ever, for anything. But I also don’t think I crank out fics all that fast. It might seem that way sometimes, but the Pinefest fic I posted in February has actually been drafted (and through several rounds of editing) since last August. I only just posted it for Pinefest. So it might seem there was only a month and a half between me writing that and the thing I posted last night, I’ve actually been working on THAT since January… three and a half months for 30k isn’t very fast. :P

I’m putting this under a cut because it’s kinda long, and possibly boring or irrelevant in the big scheme of things…

(I once wrote a 105k word original novel in 15 days, and a friend of mine wrote a 130k novel in just over three days on a deadline, but heck that is atypically fast… and nearly killed them… no really they developed shingles from the stress of it, do not recommend)

So I might be slightly biased here, but at some point you gotta stop outlining and start writing. That’s the secret. You can’t crank out stories unless you actually start writing them.

That said, when I say I don’t outline, I mean I have notes for fic that range from this, for my 8k short:

*soulmate situation described here: http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/173681098950/i-saw-a-writing-prompt-that-went-like-this-you Officially written and posted on 11/14/18 as Lost Time.

that’s just a link to a post that inspired the thing, to this, for a 65k fic: 

*NAILED IT! How could I fanfic my way through this baking show? or maybe I should just… write fanfic of this… (notes document: Cakepocalypse notes) (in process as of 4/1/18 as a potential dcbb as Cakepocalypse) (posted 6/23/18)https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017792

(sorry, I removed the link to my notes doc, but what I am willing to show of that:

wherein a lot of those 15 pages consists of images of the cakes in each challenge for my own personal reference while writing.)

Basically the ONLY two fics I’ve ever written an outline for structurally required it:

Cakepocalypse and Around the World in 24 Days, both fics based off “reality show” formats– Cakepocalypse was basically Nailed It!, and AtWi24D is the Amazing Race (and over 101k, based on about 5k worth of very detailed notes I’d be happy to show you if you come off anon). There was no way I could keep track of that many “contestants” and all their challenges, travel, baking, guests, etc. without keeping these sorts of detailed notes.

My previous pinefest fic, Winchester 275, was a 57k AU based on a two sentence thing that had been sitting on my to be written list for YEARS:

*(writing for pinefest, working title of Winchester 275 as of 8/29/17, draft finished 11/29/17, posted 3/6/18 http://archiveofourown.org/works/13788693) astronomy night at a dude ranch in arizona, Cas brings the telescope, dean only sees the stars in his eyes oh god did i actually write that down? yes. yes i did.

And my first DCBB, Revenge of the Subtext, was 80k based on a one sentence prompt: http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/130269813965/meangreenlimabean-mittensmorgul.

So if your fic doesn’t NEED you to make such detailed notes, just start writing already. :D

When I first started writing (loooong before I ever started writing fic), some of my encouraging friends told me some interesting stories. We got to talking about how annoying it was that so many people respond to someone saying they write with, “Oh, I’ve been thinking about writing a novel for years,” or something else along those lines. My friend told me she knew a guy who had been outlining his novel for more than a decade, but never seemed to be able to get it quite right so that he felt he could start writing. With that sort of attitude, he probably never will, you know?

You will never have a “perfect” outline. Just like you’ll never have a “perfect first draft.” You have to have a draft to be able to edit it, you know? Can’t edit a blank page, and an outline can only take you so far before it becomes so fleshed out that it ceases to be an outline and looks more like a first draft.

So set a writing goal for yourself. Shoot for easy to start with, and then you can tweak the goal as you fall into the habit. Say, 200 words a day. Or 1000 words a week (because in all honesty you might miss a day here and there, and you shouldn’t get down on yourself for that, either). I personally shoot for 1000 words on days when I write, but I’ve been doing this for more than a decade now. I don’t always make it, but sometimes I double that, or quintuple it, or more. And I have scheduled days off (Supernatural nights when new episodes air, and usually the day after, and Monday night when I play pub trivia and it’s Mr. Mittens’ night off work). But outside of those days, barring extreme exhaustion or illness, I try to write at least 1000 words a night.

Being that I’m not an outliner, I feel I need to say that I always know the whole story before I start writing. It’s all up inside my head, running like a film that I “transcribe” into a fic. So even if I don’t have a written, bullet-pointed list of plot points and emotional beats, I do have the “finished product” looping through my head continuously until I transcribe it all. I know that’s not actually useful writing advice for most people, and I have no idea if this is how anyone else approaches writing, but it’s how it works for me. Minor details may only show up while I’m writing, but the whole story is already there.

This is why I never, ever post incomplete, wip fic. I am a compulsive editor, mostly because I don’t create detailed outlines before I start, and for the sake of continuity, editing is my friend. Can’t go back to insert a reference into chapter 3 that will become important by chapter 14 if you posted chapter 3 half a year ago, you know? Your readers are not gonna go back and reread your updates when you remember that Important Detail never actually made it onto the page in the exact way you needed it to way back when. :P

Now, an outliner MAY have picked that detail up and inserted it before they ever started writing, but one thing folks might not understand until they actually start writing: Actually writing the thing out, making it flesh and letting it breathe, will inherently change your two-dimensional outline. I’m not saying that your plot will derail itself, but only once you begin bringing the story to life, begin living on the page through the characters, will you begin to feel them as living beings, and can really begin to understand them and make them feel real to readers. No outline can do this, and will always fall short of feeling “good enough” for this reason.

(sorry, a lot of how I feel about writing sounds slightly unhinged when I try to talk about it, so please remember that the first original novel I wrote was based on a recurring nightmare I had after a psychotic break, which I literally wrote as therapy to banish the Bad Thoughts. Yes, it worked. Yes, that’s why I still write this way more than a decade later.)

But this is where you’ll begin to fill in the “gaps” inherent in any outline. Personality quirks, inside jokes between characters, feeling their feelings and translating that to the page. But also picking up all the dangling threads like repeating themes and emotional triggers.

I think I’ve gone way far off the path here…

Basically, pick one of your outlines. Decide you’re gonna start writing it. Then start writing it. It’s that simple, and that seemingly impossible. Write one sentence. Then write another. Then write lots more.

Good luck! I know it’s terrifying. I’m terrified every time I pick a new fic idea to write and stare at that blank document. But I stare it down, give a hearty pterodactyl screech, and dive bomb the keyboard. It’s really the only way to do it.

It’s worked pretty well for me so far. :P