#the date proves I drew this on their birthday

[abandonedpie]

Belated happy birthday to the bois! ❤️💙💚💜💛🩷

[gyuwoncheol]

Nothing

Pair: Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: fluff, birthday drabble!

Summary: “It’s your birthday, you can’t just do nothing.” -Kim Mingyu (2023.10.07)

WC: ~800

Author’s Note: completely self-indulgent fluff with my ult to celebrate another year round the shiny ☀️ (this isn’t proof read either).

“Are you sure you really don’t wanna do anything today?” Mingyu asked for the umpteenth time that morning, a pout on his face as he pulled you closer to his side of the bed and rested his chin on your shoulder

“Mhmm”

“Like sure, sure?”

You giggled at the persistence. Truth be told, he’s asked you this question since weeks ago. “Yeah, Gyu. I’m sure.”

“But why? It’s your birthday, you can’t just do nothing.”

“Yes, I can. If I wanna just lay here the whole day with you then I will.”

“But why?”

You giggled a bit more, he seriously sounded like one of those 5 year olds who just keep asking ‘why?’. You turned to your side to snuggle into him, one leg intertwining with his, “because… you’re just so nice… and soft.”

“I’m not soft!” He said in fake offense, “Have you felt these muscles?” Mingyu flexed everything he could manage to prove a point but it only made you break into fits of giggles.

“I know, love,” You replied after calming a bit more, pinching his cheeks while he made a face, “but you’re also still soft and squishy to me.”

“Okay okay…” he huffed, “but birthday plans, seriously? Just lay here?”

“Hmm… apart from a shower, some bathroom breaks, and meals? Sure, why not.” You shrugged.

Mingyu groaned at your answer, he just couldn’t believe you didn’t want to do anything on your birthday. If it were up to him, you would’ve been on your 4th activity by now. This isn’t to say Mingyu didn’t plan things for your birthday, he so did; from lunch with your family, a date to that gallery you’ve always wanted to go, a shopping spree in your favorite book store, and a dinner reservation with him in your fave restaurant, he had it all planned. Except you had kindly requested him to set them tomorrow, the day after your birthday. Today, you just wanted to relax and curl up against your boyfriend, and not be pressured about dressing up, and being on time to things, or entertaining guests at a birthday party.

“This is really killing you, huh?” You chuckled.

“Yes” was the clear answer he gave, “i just… i just don’t want you to look back on this birthday and think, ‘wow we did nothing,’ or feel like you wasted your day-“

“Hey, being with you on my birthday is the total opposite of wasting my day. After last year, this is honestly the best birthday gift I could have.”

Mingyu tried to recall what you meant by ‘last year,’ and then he remembered that last year, he wasn’t even with you on your special day. He was on tour, and he still remembers how you cried silently to him on the phone, frustrated about how you had to work on your birthday, stuck in the office for a full 12hours to prepare for a stupid presentation that no one really ever cared about. It finally clicked in his head, last year’s birthday was exhausting and lonely for you. Maybe this slow down was truly all you needed.

“Angel?” Mingyu asked after a few breaths as he lazily drew patterns on your back.

“Yeah?”

“Will you kill me if I ask you to watch me bake your birthday cake downstairs? Or can that still count as doing nothing?”

You looked up at the sheepish smile Mingyu was sporting, the crinkles in his eyes appearing when you craned your neck to kiss him. Though your boyfriend wasted no time to part your lips and bring you closer, everything about the kiss was soft and gentle. The kind that took your breath away but also made you feel like everything in the world was okay as long as you had him. Maybe it was the way your boyfriend just really wanted to make you feel loved and celebrated despite your lack of “excitement” or maybe it was the way Mingyu’s thumb softly carressed your cheek, but you definitely felt the butterflies in your stomach erupt and a happy sigh left your lips. When you broke apart for air, you could only match the wide grin on your boyfriend’s face.

He took your kiss as a yes of course, but he needed to scratch the itch in his brain, he needed to make sure you were ok with it, especially when he had already laid out all the ingredients on the countertop earlier and you definitely won’t miss it when you go down, not when he also had a huge buoquet of flowers and big shiny balloons displayed. “Sooo…?”

“Tell you what, I’ll even help you bake and it will still count as nothing.”

[billybob598]

Well Shit (Lena Oberdorf x Reader)

Hellooo people!!! This was requested by the amazing, lovely, (almost) perfect @wosofanstuff! Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ares3460!!!!!!!! I LOVE MY GRANDMA. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one. As always any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Have fun!

Word Count: 865 (let's ignore this)

Lena observes as you go through finishing drills, dribbling around the cones seamlessly and completing a give-and-go with Lynn flawlessly. To anyone else, it would have looked like Lena was watching you because of your skills. Instead, she was admiring how beautiful you looked, how your hair fell just right over your shoulders, how your eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly in concentration as you controlled the ball, how your legs flexed when you kicked the ball, how the sun shined onto your face making you look ethereal. Yeah, it was fair to say that Lena was whipped. Luckily, you had been dating for a little over three months now. The German midfielder had no idea how she managed to convince you on a date, but by some miracle of God, she did. No one knew that you were together, both of you agreed that it would be too much stress on the relationship if the team knew. You loved them to bits, but sometimes they could be the nosiest people ever. 

“Obi?” A voice breaks her out of her trance.

“Huh?” Jule just chuckles at the confused look on the young German’s face.

“I know Y/N is an amazing player but we have to go do media,” she tells her friend.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Lena’s cheeks heat up at being caught staring at you. Thankfully Jule just thought she was watching because you were good.

 Later that night, you’re at your apartment when your phone dings from an incoming text. 

Obi💚

Can I come over?

Of course xx

Be there in 5

Sure enough, a knock drew you away from the kitchen five minutes later. When you open the door you’re met with your girlfriend in an oversized hoodie and two cans of Fanta in hand. Fully opening the door so she can walk inside, you watch as she expertly moves around your home, proving how much time she spends there. 

“What are you making?” She asks, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Spaghetti. Have you eaten yet?” You say heading back to check on the pasta sauce. 

“No.”

“Okay, it should be ready in like five minutes,” you wander back to the living room to see your girlfriend already setting up a movie on Netflix. 

The movie plays in the background as you eat your dinner, with light conversation continuing throughout the night. When the movie ends, Lena picks up the dirty dishes and begins to clean the kitchen. You sit on the island watching her. How one person could be so perfect you have no idea. 

“You’re staring,” Lena says with a smirk. You roll your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck.

“No, I wasn’t,” you say defensively. Her smirk only gets wider as she raises her eyebrows. God, how you wanted to just kiss the smirk right off her face. 

“Sure, schatz.”

“If anyone is staring it’s you,” you say, deciding to turn the tables on her.

“What?” She asks confused.

“I saw you staring at training today, you were practically drooling.” Now it’s Lena’s turn to blush.

“Shut up,” she mutters and throws the towel she was using at you. You laugh, music to her ears. A smile works its way onto her face and she walks around the counter picks you up and gently places you on top of the counter. Considering she’s got a good three inches on you, it’s not that difficult. She steps in between your legs, slowly reaches up and caresses your cheek. Your eyes flicker down to her lips and without hesitation, Lena tilts her head up and presses her lips against yours. One of your hands moves to her hair, running through it. Lena lets out a soft moan. You immediately take advantage and slip your tongue inside. The two tongues fight for dominance while Lena’s hand grips onto your waist. Her other hand finds the small of your back. Your senses are overwhelmed, the feeling of her lips on yours, her hair between your fingers, her hands all over your body, just…her. Then, she removes her mouth from your and starts to plant wet kisses down your neck. They get lower and lower and lower until-

“What the fuck?!” Someone yells, interrupting the makeout session. Both of you jump apart looking very startled. You freeze when you see half of the team standing there watching you with their jaws hanging and eyes comically wide.

“Well shit,” Lena mumbles, pulling away from you a little more. Of course, you had completely forgotten that you had given a spare key to Sveindís. And of course, she chose that night to break in and bring half the team for an impromptu movie night. Everyone was silent for a few more seconds when finally Alex spoke up,

“Are you two like, together?” You glance warily at Obi, she looks at you with a soft smile and slips her hand into yours before answering,

“Yeah, we are.” This opens up the floodgates.

“Oh my God!”

“How long have you been dating?”

“Who asked out who?”

“Who else knows?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”

“I knew it!”

It’s safe to say that movie night did not happen.

[1d1195]

Zipper Extra I

I wanted to save this particular little blurb for a later date, but I wanted to post something now. I hope you enjoy!

It takes place after this of course: Zipper, within their first year of dating.

There are no warnings that I can see.

Harry settled the vase on her counter and was ready to start another bout of the argument. His mind weighed his options again of just ripping the band aid off now. More of a reason she could fully hate him—what kind of person breaks up with the woman of their dreams on her birthday?

True to his word, he forgot her birthday. She kind of thought it was okay that he did—at least he warned her. But he was also right that it was mind-bogglingly irritating. She knew it was marked on his calendar. He drew a heart around the number on his desk calendar and she found that utterly sweet. It wasn’t entirely his fault either—he had a huge case he was working on, and it monopolized most of the week leading up to her day and then some. Any spare moment they had together within the last month was spent checking Harry’s arguments and working through pages of files.

It hurt a bit still—but she was prepared at least.

Instead of going out on her birthday, she sat in her apartment watching a trashy Hallmark movie eating ice cream and responding to plenty of birthday messages.

*

Gemma was the one that texted Harry.

At first it was a host of punctuated speech bubbles.

Harry.

Harry Goddamit.

HARRY

HONESTLY

I CANNOT BeLiEvE YOU

HARRY ANSWER YOUR PHONE GODDAMIT

Jesus, Harry! Do you know what today is? There were several angry emojis that followed.

Harry was still at the office debriefing his latest meeting to himself and analyzing more of this case. He honestly couldn't tell anyone why he looked at his phone in that moment. He rarely did when he had a big case like this. Gemma went unanswered most oftentimes, unless she called him—but after the fifth vibration on his desk, he couldn’t help but look.

His eyebrows pinched together reading her words. They didn't click at first. It was like he wasn't understanding the language. Surely she wasn't mad at him. Glancing at his calendar he gasped at the heart-shaped number. “FUCK,” he said out loud.

Shit, shit, shit! He responded.

You’re an idiot, Harry. She’s literally watching a movie all by herself. More angry emojis.

Harry felt sick.

Don’t mess this up! I LOVE her.

Harry dropped all of his work, it was as good as it was going to get for tonight and he would be back in the morning on a Saturday before he knew it. Harry raced to the grocery store as it was closing getting a bouquet and card while the workers grumbled at him. In the checkout line, he added a single KitKat to his order.

Outside he signed the card and then hurried to her apartment building. He caught the door as someone left and he took the stairs two at a time to her floor. Knocking quickly on her door, he barely caught his breath.

“Baby,” he whispered anxiously when the door opened.

“Hi,” she giggled at her breathless boyfriend.

“Kitten, m’so sorry,” he said hurrying through the door. He made himself at home in her kitchen finding a vase under the sink and began trimming the bottom of the flowers before adding the flower food to the water.

“For what?” She tilted her head at him curiously. He warned her!—she couldn’t be mad. She wasn’t mad. If he was going to further prove his word, he would make it up to her another day and honestly, she couldn’t wait to see what he would do. Even if he didn't do something grand, she would still forgive him. He was busy and he warned her. Despite it being her birthday, he felt the burning need to shake her. He huffed at her. “You warned me that you would forget!”

“You shouldn’t settle for that,” he grumbled angrily looking at the window across her apartment. He was mad he wasted the evening cooped up at the office, unknowingly forgetting her.

“I’m confused. Do you want me to be mad at you?”

“You literally are the most infuriating person I know.”

She giggled. “Fine, I’m mad at you.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Harry,” she sighed. “It’s okay.” Harry didn’t want her to be mad, but he didn’t want her to settle for his stupidity. It wasn’t fair to her. She deserved the world and he hated that he constantly had to remind her—she should expect everything good and wonderful, like it belonged to her. It was exactly the reason he pushed all his feelings away. He wanted to be the best for her because that was what she deserved.

Harry felt like a horrible person. He strongly considered breaking up with her solely so she could find someone better. It was almost too much. His hands fiddling with the stems of the flowers while the wheels in his head spun about when an appropriate time to break up would be—certainly not on her birthday. But then she had a really important client visit on Monday...Valentine’s Day would be here before he knew it and so then—

Harry settled the vase on her counter and was ready to start another bout of the argument. His mind weighed his options again of just ripping the band aid off now. More of a reason she could fully hate him—what asshole breaks up with the woman of their dreams on her birthday? He couldn’t break up with her. He loved her so much—always, there wasn’t any denying it anymore. He couldn’t leave her if he wanted to. She bit her lip looking at the roses. “You got me flowers,” she said softly as if she only just really noticed.

“Honestly, kitten. I could shake you,” he shook his head quickly and sounded utterly exasperated. They weren’t even good roses—they were from a grocery store, and they were probably going to last all on the inside of twenty-four hours. “Of all the things I could do the moment I remembered—”

“No guy has ever gotten me flowers before,” she interrupted quickly gazing at them as if they were the most beautiful flowers on earth. As if they appeared from thin air.

Harry stopped his embittered rant he was about to begin and finally looked at the sweet girl: she wasn't wearing a lavish birthday outfit for a night on the town nor was she in her beautifully professional attire. Instead she looked cozy beyond belief in leggings and an oversized shirt that had sleeves that nearly reached her fingertips. She looked so fragile and small and beautiful in the middle of her darkened kitchen—just the soft light from her TV and end table lamp illuminating her. “What?” He asked quietly, nearly whispered the surprised breath out. Surely, he misheard her. That guy she dated for a year had to have gotten her flowers—there was an anniversary involved, Valentine’s Day, fuck she got her undergraduate degree in that time! There were prom dates in school. The weddings of friends she attended with a date. The men that were brave enough to ask her out when they met her, they had to have gotten her a floral arrangement just in thanks for talking to them...that’s what she deserved!

“My mom and dad are the only ones who’ve ever gotten me flowers,” she said and reached out and delicately pinched a petal between her fingers and enjoyed how soft and velvety it felt. Her face softened more as she looked at the bouquet.

Harry exhaled deeply. He forgot about breaking up with her. That was by far the stupidest idea he had ever had anyway. “Oh,” he murmured. Harry spent a lot of his life talking. He talked to clients, he talked to juries, he talked to his family and friends. Harry wasn’t someone who was at a loss for words—almost ever. But hearing how no one who’s ever even remotely cared about this poor, sweet girl outside of her family has never sent her flowers in her 27 years of life... Harry was speechless.

“That was really sweet,” she said still touching the petals of the flowers—as if she was checking to see if they were still there. “They’re beautiful,” the admiration was thick in her voice. “Thank you,” she whispered. Harry realized she was serious in her gratitude.

Harry could have cried that she was grateful for his last-minute gift. He told himself for a month he wasn’t going to forget. This was her birthday. He couldn’t forget. His brain was spinning with ideas for what he could do to make this better. He wasn’t even going to accept her thank you for the sub-par flowers. “Do you want to do anything, m’love?” He asked finally. “I’ll make any call I have to,” he promised.

“No, m’just glad you’re here,” she said sheepishly. “Could we snuggle while I finish my movie? And order some pizza?”

“Is that all you want?” Harry felt like this was the lamest, most terrible birthday she could have had.

“Well, a kiss would be pretty nice as well.”

He smiled, albeit a bit tiredly at her silly request. Shaking his head as he cupped her face. “You’re so stupid,” he said softly. Of all the things she could have asked for in that moment.

She grinned. “S’not very nice of you to say that after you forgot my birthday.”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes and kissed her so sweetly and deeply she could feel it in her toes.

*

When she arrived at her office on Monday—after a flurry of birthday celebrations all weekend long, no less—she found easily fifty vases of flowers lining the window shelf behind her desk. She wrinkled her nose and felt tears prick her eyes. She walked along the near forest of flowers that was her office and bit her lip as she admired all the different bouquets.

Harry wasn’t in the office yet—he had an early court hearing and wouldn’t be back for a while. She wondered when he did this. There was a note on her desk when she turned to settle her belongings down. It was handwritten by Harry, and she wanted to frame it so she could treasure it forever and gaze at it for the rest of her life.

You deserve flowers every single day, my angel

I love you, always

[enthyrea]

Hi! Who do you think has a tattoo out of the TGM pilots and what is it?

Thank you!!!

hi! honestly i think most of them have tattoos! i've been thinking of drawing them out at some point, so hopefully you'll stick around to see that, anon!

in particular, i think payback has stars on his triceps (jay ellis has these in real life), and likely a tattoo dedicated to his daughter, probably her birthday or a tattoo replica of something she drew for him.

hangman and coyote have matching tattoos they got while in flight school together. i also think hangman has h_ngm_n somewhere on his body lmao, also probably a giant texas on his ass. coyote has the fleur de lis over his chest, and probably an actual coyote tattoo (a semi-realistic one) somewhere too.

while i dont think rooster has any tattoos, if he did, it would be the date of his parents' marriage on his arm or something.

i like to imagine that bob has a bunch of little ones of just random objects, and that's why he kept his shirt on at the beach (he didnt want the attention lol). they're either really thin/simple or very realistic.

im torn between phoenix having literal phoenix wings tattooed on her back, or her having little jets on her back upper shoulder.

fanboy is the one i can see believing that tattoos poison you (his mom told him that when he was 5 and he never thought otherwise) but if he were gonna have one, it would totally be something nerdy like a pokéball or the star trek logo or a lightsaber.

(if anyone was gonna get a tramp stamp it would be hangman you cant prove me wrong)

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (18/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU

This Chapter: Teen, ~4900 words

AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 |

It was no hyperbole for James to say that the next six weeks were some of the best of his life. He worked hard to stay in the present, to file the memories he was making with Rose into his brain to be pulled out again at a later date when things got bad (because inevitably things always got bad, didn’t they?) He cataloged every laugh, every smile, every touch, basking in the high of new love.

His relationship with Rose had become the most important thing in his life, and he would protect it fiercely with every bone in his body. The media had caught on to that fact; as a result, more and more articles were coming out, wondering where he was and what he was doing. They ranged from wild speculations that he had been pulled into nefarious schemes, to softer and sweeter (and more accurate) speculations that he was love-sick. The paps still called her his mysterious blonde, which had become a running joke between them, with Rose calling him her mysterious beau.

His fans had also noticed his public absence. In the past, he could often be found wandering London and sampling its pleasures with whomever he happened to be dating at the time. But with his desire to keep Rose away from the cameras, they were sneaking around or hanging out in each others’ homes far away from any hope of discovery. His fans were discussing among themselves about whether he was working on a super secret project, or if he was ill, or if he’d stepped away from music altogether.

While he yearned to soothe their worries, he didn’t want to jeopardize this pseudo-peace he had found with Rose. They obviously couldn’t keep going as they were forever—he would want to take Rose all across the globe with him whenever her schedule allowed for it. He wanted to show her all the places she’d never been to but wanted to go. He wanted her to watch him on tour, wanted to see her face in the crowd beside the family and friends he���d invited to his show. He wanted to bring her along as his plus-one to the formal events and galas he was regularly invited to.

But not yet. Baby steps. He knew they first needed to continue building and strengthening the foundations of their relationship, and unlike all of his previous failed attempts at love, he wanted these first few months to be just theirs and no one else’s.

As November drew to a close, he slowly began to integrate Rose into his private life by introducing her to the people he trusted to keep the secret. His mates were thrilled that he seemed to have found “a good one” (their words), and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than grin like an idiot. Rose really was a good one—the best one.

“She’s good for you, mate,” Ian told him when his friends began to depart from his birthday dinner. “You act more yourself around her.”

“What do you mean, I always act myself,” he protested, frowning.

Barbara, Ian’s fiancée, patted his cheek softly while she kissed his other cheek. “You think you do. But remember, we’ve known you since puberty.”

He grimaced and shooed his two oldest friends out of his house so he could celebrate the remainder of his birthday alone with Rose.

His record label seemed surprised but overall indifferent to Rose. James didn’t know what he expected, really; they’d always made it clear that his personal life was his own to do with as he wished, but the moment he started looking bad for the label, they would put him on a short leash.

Nevertheless, it was a relief for them to be privy to the knowledge that he wanted Rose to remain a secret from the public for as long as possible. They also didn’t mind that his productivity had slowed down. Since the bulk of the work for his next album was complete, it wouldn’t take too much longer to get it produced, polished, and published.

Rose didn’t yet want to introduce him to any of her friends, and he wavered between hurt and guilt, wondering in equal measure if Rose was embarrassed to be dating him or wishing she could have a normal boyfriend she could show off to her mates.

But at the same time, he understood. With too many people in the know, it would be far too easy for word to leak about their relationship, and before they knew it, paparazzi would be battering down their doors to interrogate them. His friends had years of practice (and several awkward or painful missteps along the way) with keeping aspects of his life a secret, while hers didn’t. He would let Rose decide the pace with which they broadcast their relationship to others.

It was like he was living in a dream, and while he existed in a state of euphoria for most of the day, there were times when a lingering doom would settle over him as he wondered when their bubble of joy would pop. It was as though a great storm was approaching, but he couldn’t predict when or where or how it would happen.

He always knew he and Rose were teetering on the edge of discovery. One moment of being in the wrong place at the wrong time beside someone with a camera, and the game was up. One person would be all it took to have his paradise come crashing down around him.

But James never expected that person to come in the form of Jacqueline Tyler.

oOoOo

It has been nine days, eleven hours, and twenty-eight minutes since he last saw Rose, (not that he’s counting), when they snuck into the back of a darkened cinema to watch the Catalysis film together. The theater had been mostly empty, thanks to it being noon on a weekday and the film having been out for a month and a half. Rose’s school was closed for the day due to a water main break that left several city blocks without running water.

When she’d texted him that morning telling him the news, he couldn’t help but want to spend the entire day with her because he would be off that night traveling to a few cities across Asia for more film promotion and some early holiday concerts, mostly to raise money for charities. Everyone was more generous in December, and James wasn’t above being used to draw people in to watch him perform for a half hour.

The trip also served to satisfy his fans that he was, in fact, alive and well. The hashtag #WelcomeBackJames was trending on Twitter for half a day when he made his first stop in Tokyo. His social media was flooded with photos of himself either performing on stage, posing for a photoshoot, or taking selfies with fans. For the first time in a long while, he looked healthy. His eyes shone with joy and his skin had a glow to it that he hadn’t realized was missing.

When he took part of a morning to do a photoshoot for a Japanese magazine, his makeup artists barely had to touch his face like they usually did to soften the sharp gauntness of his cheeks or conceal the dark shadows beneath his eyes. After some of the photos had been released, Rose had sent him one where he was clad in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans that showed off the jut of his hip bones and teased at the happy trail that disappeared beneath the denim. The photo had been heavily edited to make his skin tanner than it was and to highlight abdominal muscles he definitely didn’t have.

Can I get your ab regimen? “How to get abs of steel in 48 hours” from James Noble, she had texted.

He snorted. “Sorry, it’s a trade secret.”

Hmm. I’ll give you a bj for it? 🍆

His stomach swooped teasingly, and he banished the memories of Rose’s mouth on his cock before they could take root.

“Deal. The trick is being a multi-millionaire with a phenomenal make-up team and photographers who know how to use photoshop. BJ when???”

When you come home 💜

Home. It’s funny that when he thought of home, it wasn’t his house that came to mind. It was her—her smile and her laugh, the warmth of her embrace and the passion in her lips and the tenderness of her touch. And as excited as he was to visit east Asia, he was more excited to return to Rose.

Presently, now that he’s home, he aches to see her again. He returned three days ago, but Rose has been recovering from some respiratory illness her plague-riddled students passed on to her. While he respected her wishes for him to stay away for a few more days, he misses her. Their late-night phone calls were just enough to take the edge off, but he longs to see her in person, to hold her in his arms and kiss her deeply and slowly until they’re both starved for breath.

It’s Friday evening, and James is in the recording studio, snacking on a packet of crisps to tide him over until dinner time and plonking away on the piano, trying to put his finger on what is missing from the latest song he’s recording. Every time he tries to focus on what doesn’t sound right, it slips farther and farther away, like trying to catch wisps of mist with his fingertips.

He groans dramatically and gets up from his piano bench to flop even more dramatically onto his sofa. He shoves the remaining few crisps into his mouth and sullenly chews while replaying the melodies over and over in his head, trying to map slight variations on top of each other to fix whatever is dissatisfying him. But it doesn’t work, and he only succeeds in giving himself a minor headache and a bone-deep frustration.

Fuck it. It’s Friday, and he’s going home.

Unless…

He snags his phone from the table and opens his messaging thread with Rose.

“I know you said to wait until this weekend when you’re feeling better. But it’s practically already the weekend, innit? Can I come over for a bit? Or pick you up and we can go to my house?”

James drums his fingers across his thighs while he waits for her answer. Now that he’s got it in his head that he might be seeing Rose within the hour, he’s impatient to get to her.

His phone vibrates in his palm, and her message sinks his spirits.

Sorry, I can’t. I’m babysitting my little brother for the night. Mum and Dad have Friday date night, and their usual sitter came down with the flu. Tomorrow. I promise xo.

James sighs and rubs his fingers into his eyes.

“It’s fine. I understand. Tomorrow first thing? 🥺”

Oh, that’s so pathetic! Yes, first thing tomorrow. Pick me up at 9?

“On the dot,” he confirms.

He rests his phone beside him on the sofa cushion. Now what? Go home to an empty house and cook up whatever his personal assistant planned for him? Or maybe he can see if any of his friends are up for a night out. His week-long excursion to Asia scratched the itch of wanting to socialize, but he wants more. He’s always been extroverted in nature, loving the energy of a crowded pub or some similar venue, and while he would never regret these quieter, calmer weeks with Rose, he misses the former bustle of his social life.

James pulls open the group chat with his local famous friends, but before he can ask if any of them want to meet him at a pub, he gets a new message from Rose.

I mean… I don’t suppose you’d mind a 4-year-old third-wheeling us if you came ‘round?

A grin steals across his face. “Not in the slightest. Though it does put a damper on my plan to ravish you thoroughly and filthily the moment I see you 😏”

Well, what if I told you Tony will be gone by 9pm? 🍆

“I suppose the ravishing could be postponed ‘til then 🐱👅💦” He sends the text, then a thought occurs to him. “Does this mean you want to introduce me to your family?”

The three dots that indicate Rose is typing pulse across his screen for many long seconds before she answers, Yeah, I think I do. At least preliminarily. We can do a longer introduction later.

He beams at his phone screen. “Perfect. Can’t wait. I’ll come by right now. See you soon! 💜”

James hurriedly packs away the instruments and equipment he’d used that day before bolting out of the building and to his car, praising his lucky stars that he’d chosen today of all days to drive himself to the studio. He would have gone half-mad waiting for his driver to trek to him amidst Friday rush hour traffic. As it is, he goes half-mad inching through the rush hour traffic on his way to Rose’s flat.

Finally though, he arrives, and he battles the climb up to the tenth storey. It’s only when he knocks on her door that he belatedly thinks he should have offered to pick up dinner. No time for it now, not as Rose swings open her front door and ushers him inside.

When the door snicks shut behind him and she fastens the lock, he folds her into his arms and simply holds her for several long seconds, tucking his nose into her hair to breathe her in. She embraces him just as tightly, rocking slowly from side to side.

“I missed you,” she murmurs into his neck. There is still a faint, throaty rasp to her voice leftover from her bout of illness, and if he’s being perfectly honest, there is something incredibly sexy about it.

“And I you.”

He pulls back only far enough to cradle her jaw in his palm and angle her face up for a sweet kiss that he works to keep chaste. She melts into him, bracing her hands on his shoulders to kiss him back, matching his pace. Heat unfurls through him, gentle yet delicious. Before his desire can overtake him, he pops their mouths apart to rest his forehead to hers.

She nudges the tip of her nose into his before backing up a step. “C’mon. Tony’s in the kitchen havin’ some hotdogs and cheesy potatoes.”

Rose takes him by the hand and guides him to her kitchen table, where a small blond-haired boy sits perched on several pillows on top of a chair to get him to the proper height to reach the table. He’s watching a cartoon on a tablet, so transfixed that he doesn’t even notice their presence.

“Tony? I’ve got someone for you to meet,” Rose says, releasing James’s hand to step closer to her brother. “Can we pause Peppa for a moment, please?”

“I guess,” the boy says with a dramatic sigh. He reaches out with grubby fingers to pause the video, then pivots in his seat, causing the pillows to shift slightly with his movements. He meets James’s eye and blinks. “Who’re’you?”

“This is James,” Rose says, touching his upper arm as she says his name. “Remember I said he’d be hangin’ out with us tonight. He’s my boyfriend. Can you say hi?”

“Hi,” Tony obliges. “D’you like Peppa?”

James scratches the back of his neck. “Can’t say I’ve ever watched Peppa. What’s it all about?”

Tony lights up and launches into a half-coherent rambling about the show and the characters. James barely follows what the boy is saying, but judging from the interactions he’s had with some of his friends’ kids, it doesn’t really matter.

“Come come come,” Tony says, patting the table beside him. “You can watch Peppa too. Come on!”

Rose flashes him an apologetic smile, but James waves her off and pulls up a chair to sit beside the child.

“This one’s my fav’rite,” Tony says, returning to the tablet and starting the episode.

“They’re all your favorite,” Rose mutters. She steps up behind James and lightly links her arms around his neck, resting her chin atop his head. He leans into her while an anthropomorphic pig appears on the screen.

“Is that Peppa?” he asks.

Tony giggles. “Nooooo, silly, tha’s Chloe!”

“God, I can’t believe you didn’t recognize that’s Chloe,” Rose drawls in his ear.

He reaches back to pinch her bum as he says to Tony, “Oh, right, silly me. Of course I can see that’s Chloe now.”

Tony absently swings his feet and nibbles on a hotdog. “There. Tha’s Peppa.”

Rose continues to hold James in a backwards hug while the three of them watch the brief episode together. When it ends, Rose ruffles Tony’s hair and says, “I’m gonna steal James back, all right? We need to make grown-up food.”

“You don’ wan’ hotdogs?” Tony asks, frowning.

Rose grimaces. “Nah, remember big sissy doesn’t like those.”

Tony simply blinks owlishly at her, as if he couldn’t possibly understand why anyone wouldn’t like hotdogs. James, meanwhile, catalogs that factoid of Rose into his memory bank.

“After dinner, why don’t we all play a game?” Rose suggests. 

“Okay,” Tony says brightly, and he returns his attention back to Peppa Pig.

James follows Rose the short distance to the kitchen, where, together, they chop, season, then cook the ingredients for fajitas.

The knife is an extension of his hands as he neatly slices and dices. He hardly realizes Rose is watching him until she asks, “Have you always been this comfortable in a kitchen?”

He glances over at her lumpy attempts at cubed chicken.

“Don’t laugh, but I actually took cooking lessons a couple years ago,” he admits, faint heat crawling up his cheeks.

“Why would I laugh?”

He ignores the jabs his friends made when he told them he was learning to cook.

“Just hire a chef…”

“Just order in…”

“Just find a wife…”

His famous friends didn’t understand why he didn’t hire someone to cook for him, and his non-famous friends didn’t understand why he would want to learn a skill they would all kill not to need to use.

James shrugs. “I like the idea of knowing how to cook. My luck might run out, and this time next year, I’ll be a washed-up has-been who needs to get by like a normal person, which includes knowing how to cook and use ingredients efficiently. And it’s healthier than dining out all the time. I struggled with proper nutrition when I first became famous.”

Rose comes up beside him and, careful of the knife, hugs one of his arms. She plants a kiss to his shoulder.

“Makes sense. You’ll have to teach me one day. But not tonight, I’m starving and in no mood for lessons.”

He snorts and bumps his hip into hers to get her to take a step away so he can reach for the onion that needs chopping.

The flat is soon filled with the sound of sizzling chicken, and it smells absolutely divine. The meat and spice scent reminds him of their date at Cocinara.

“Let’s go out to dinner sometime soon,” he suggests. “I know we’re trying to keep a low profile, but I’d really like to take you out. We can get all dressed up and get wasted on fancy champagne and stuff ourselves on fancy hors d'oeuvres and order fancy meals that come on fancy plates that look too fancy to eat. I know some places. I can book a reservation in a private area where we can go unnoticed.”

“James, you don’t need to convince me,” Rose says gently, resting her hand on his forearm to pause his rapid-fire speech. She then flashes him a cheeky smile. “You had me convinced at the promise of champagne. And dear God, would you please stop saying ‘fancy’?”

“You don’t fancy it?” he quips, giggling as she rolls her eyes and halfheartedly swats his chest.

When their dinner is finished, they each struggle to enfold the sauteed chicken and veggies into a tortilla shell until they give up and shred their tortilla atop a pile of fajita innards. Tony has left his perch at the kitchen table and is instead curled on the sofa with the iPad, still wholly consumed by Peppa Pig.

Rose clears her brother’s empty plate from the table. While in the kitchen, she grabs a bottle of pink wine and two glasses, and pours them both healthy measures. They clink their glasses in a dainty toast before tucking into their meal.

They don’t speak while they eat, but James has never felt more comfortable. There have been dates he’d gone on where he felt the need to fill every awkward silence because it was too stifling. But not here. Not now. Not with Rose.

He stretches his legs towards hers and lets his toes tap an absent beat against her feet while they eat. The beat turns into the rhythm of the song he tried (and failed) all day to tweak.

“D’you wanna see the recording studio?” he blurts. “I could show you how the sausage gets made.”

“You mean you don’t just sing into a microphone and magically have an album?” she drawls.

“Enh, that’s really the general gist of it. Just with some fancier gadgets. So… wanna see the studio? I’m sure there’s a “take your girlfriend to work” day coming up soon.”

Rose cackles. “Next time school’s off, I’ll come by. During the winter holiday, maybe.”

He makes a mental note about it, and is suddenly impatient for the next couple weeks to pass. While he genuinely does want to invite her into his professional life, his ulterior motive for showing her the studio is to present his half-finished album to her, to seek her blessing about creating music that captures and immortalizes the beginnings of their relationships.

When their food is eaten and the dishes are piled into the sink to do later, James and Rose join Tony in the living room. He finally puts the iPad aside and asks, “Can we play Jus’ Dance?”

James perks up. “Ooh, yes please!” He turns to Rose and affects his best pout.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” she says.

She opens the little cabinet door of the entertainment center her TV sits atop of to reveal an older-model gaming unit.

“Is that a genuine antique Wii?” James gasps.

Rose sticks her tongue out at him. “Shut up. I found one cheap online and got it so I could entertain this little terror when he comes to visit.”

Tony is utterly oblivious to his sister’s comment and is instead preemptively gyrating his hips, dancing to music that exists solely in his head. He puts lyrics to that music and is soon crooning in a long, off-key babble, “Gonna play Jus’ Dance. Gonna dance wi’ sissy. Gonna dance wi’ James. Gonna dance and dance ‘til it’s bedtime and Mummy comes and I go home and sleep in my big boy bed.”

“All right, big boy, you first,” Rose says, loading up the game.

There is a wide selection of songs from the 90’s and early 2000s; James notices she picks a child-appropriate song for her brother to play. Tony eagerly grabs the Wii remote and vaguely follows the on-screen dancer, choosing instead to move his body however he sees fit. The pure joy and delight radiating from the boy is infectious, and before they know it, he and Rose are mirroring Tony’s wild movements and giggling uncontrollably.

“Your turn!” Tony pants, pink-faced.

James accepts the nunchuk and selects a song for himself.

They pass nearly two hours in this fashion, trading off the controller between the three of them. James is amazed by (and slightly envious of) how much stamina Tony has. It’s only when the clock strikes 8:30 that he seems to have hit a wall. He throws himself onto the sofa and announces, “My legs are out of breath.”

Rose grins. “Yeah, mine are too. How ‘bout you, James.”

“So out of breath,” he agrees.

“Let’s sneak in a bit of ice cream before Mummy comes to get you, eh?” Rose suggests.

“Yay! Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream! Choc’late?”

“Of course. Only the best for my Tony.” Rose glances at James. “Want some?”

He nods, and powers down the Wii before settling onto the sofa beside Tony.

“That was fun. Good choice, little man.”

“It’s my fav’rite,” Tony says, still lying in a heap on the sofa. He peers up at James with giant brown eyes that are a few shades darker than Rose’s. “Are you an’ sissy in love?”

James balks. For a split second, he nearly spits out the reactionary retort he gives paparazzi, but mercifully catches himself.

He’s just a child. Of course he isn’t fishing for information. He’s just a child.

“Er, yeah, we are,” he answers, scratching at the back of his neck, as though that will stop his skin from prickling.

Tony beams. “Are you gonna get married?”

James doesn’t have a chance to respond, since Rose chooses this moment to enter the living room juggling three bowls. Her cheeks are pink, and she flashes him an apologetic smile before setting one of the bowls on the coffee table.

“Bum on the floor,” she tells her brother, who is already in motion to sit in front of his ice cream.

She then hands James his ice cream and settles into the spot her brother vacated.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” she murmurs in an undertone.

James shakes her head. “Children don’t know any better. No filter at that age. Not that I’m one to talk. My filter hasn’t developed even by age twenty-seven.”

Rose visibly relaxes, and the three of them sit in comfortable silence, enjoying their dessert.

The entire lower half of Tony’s face is covered in sticky chocolate by the time he’s done, so Rose marches her brother down the hall to clean him up while James takes it upon himself to start the washing up. He cleans up the droplets of melted ice cream from the coffee table, then does all of the dishes piled up by the sink.

Washing dishes has always been a mindless task for him, and tonight is no different. While he runs through the motions of washing and rinsing, his mind wanders absently, wondering what he and Rose can do together tomorrow, wondering where he can take her out to dinner, wondering if, as Tony said, Rose might want to marry him some day.

He never put much thought into marriage; it was something that either happened or didn’t. He has never had the deep and desperate desire to get married; all he ever wanted is to find a partner he loves with his whole self, and who loves him with their whole self. Whether that is made legally official with legally binding documents, or whether it’s a vow of commitment made between him and his partner, he doesn’t care.

But does Rose care? Does Rose want the big fancy wedding with the big fancy dress? He supposes he ought to find out. Really, he ought to find out a lot more than what he already knows. How much does he even know about Rose? What are her hopes and dreams and aspirations? Where does she want her life to be in five years? In ten? Does she want children? Does he want children?

He tries to imagine himself in ten years’ time, just like this, with Rose bathing their child or putting them to bed while he does the evening chores, and he just… he can’t see it.

He tries again and again, despite a little voice in the back of his mind that tells him that this doesn’t matter because he doesn’t know what Rose wants, and yet it makes no difference. Because what if Rose really, really wants children? What if having children is a deal breaker for her? Would he be okay with having kids? Would he be okay with not having kids? Do most twenty-seven-year-olds know by now if they want kids??

James has been absently scrubbing the same bowl for nearly five minutes, and he realizes Rose and Tony have been gone for quite a while.

But he barely finishes that thought when he hears the metallic jangle of a key in a lock, and suddenly Rose’s front door swings open. James’s heart is hammering as he is jarred back to the present. He sets the ultra-clean bowl into the sink and grabs a towel to dry his hands.

“Sorry we’re late. Traffic was a nightmare, you wouldn’t believe—”

A middle-aged blonde woman that James recognizes is standing just inside the front door beside a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. James freezes as the woman’s eyes lock onto him and turn to ice.

“You!” she snarls, and stalks towards James. He shrinks away, but the sharp edge of the countertop bites into the small of his back, preventing his retreat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing in my daughter’s flat?!”

[thatiranianphantom]

The assumption is ridiculous, really. She tells them as much. It's ridiculous, and the fact that they've cornered her and they're acting like they've solved their own mystery, only the mystery is her, is frankly just....insulting and patently wrong.

"I hugged you and you yelped, Drew. And one of the rare hugs I deem you worthy of! You'd think you'd be cherishing that opportunity."

"Proves nothing."

"Your boobs are sore. That's symptom #1."

Nancy heaves a deep sigh, and her friends, her beloved best friends actually start circling her, like predators hunting down prey.

"Your eyes are red. You're tired." Bess offers.

"I was up all night helping Ace study!"

George wrinkles her nose. "First of all, ew."

"He has a test, it's not like...."

George holds a hand up. "Don't want to know, not interested in thinking of Ace like that. Ever. More to the point, we got clam chowder and you went exorcist immediately with the puking. That's never happened before."

"It's not like the Claw's food standards have improved since..."

This time, Bess holds a finger up, tutting at Nancy. "We aren't done, our most beloved friend. You could also smell Nick's cologne from across the house."

"He put it on heavily!" The excuses are getting weaker and Nancy knows it. But her brain's gears, usually spinning rapidly, seem to be working at a determinly slow pace. Keeping the doors closed, as it were. Closing out things she perhaps didn't want to think about.

"And," George moves in closer to her, eyes meeting Nancy's straight on, gleaming like she's just fit in the final piece to a particularly difficult puzzle.

"You're late, aren't you?"

It's ostensibly a question, but it's also not a question. Nancy has all the replies in the world on the tip of her tongue, about how invasive it is that her friends are tracking her period, about how it's none of their business, but they somehow get clogged in her throat.

They get lost, as the floodgates open.

Because yes, she did recoil from Nick (there was a comment in there about how it hadn't been that long since they dated, and did she really find him that repulsive yet). She had spent a lot of time retching over some food poisoning that none of her other friends seem to get. She and Ace had indeed had to abort some "date nights" because her boobs were oddly sore. She had peed no less than 7 times on the 4 hour drive to the latest small-scale case. Immediately after vomiting up all the clam chowder, she had inhaled two burgers.

But...

"No," it comes out weakly at first, then stronger. "No! Because we...we're careful. We're always careful. And I'm...I'm on the pill. And we've...I mean, we've only talked about stuff like that as an eventually. Ace hasn't even gotten into med school yet, I can't be...no. No, you're wrong!"

The last part is a near shout, as Nancy curls her fingers into Bess' jacket, first lightly, then tighter, tighter.

Soothingly, with more gentleness than Nancy knew George possessed, her friend disentangles her fingers from Bess, and laces her fingers through Nancy.

"Sweetie," Bess says softly, stroking back a lock of hair from Nancy's forehead. "Did you take the pill every day?"

Her life is insane. It's busy, tracking sin eaters. It doesn't lend itself to a reliable schedule. That's the reasoning she'll use later, along with her app forgetting to remind her after she silenced it one day.

Because for a period of a few days, she'd forgotten. Looking back, she thinks it was Ace's birthday. They'd just come off a case where they'd found three sin eaters at one time, and Ace had done well on a big test, and there was cake and stars and the bed of a rented pickup laid out with blankets and she'd just...forgotten.

Bess and George do their best to soothe her. They buy her tests, and sit with her during the actual eternity that three minutes is, holding her hands and reassuring her it'll be okay, that she has options, that they're here for her, but when she slips into Florence at the end of the day, Ace greeting her with a kiss, the test wrapped in tissue hidden in her bag feels like a bomb with a lit fuse.

[valpogossip]

VALPOGOSSIP TEACAP: APRIL 2024

You lot sure have be busy the last month. If I was of lesser mind or simply someone with something better to do, I would have resigned myself to my silence and let you all carry on. But business pays. And unfortunately for you, it's yours that pays me, and you're all not going to believe this.

It's always the ones in the most denial that scream the loudest and Abril is a banshee. While at La Fiesta De Vindimia, Abril confronted our favorite blonde bombshell, Mallory Jade, about song she assumed was about her. Now theres something about a fight over a song like Pretty Girls ending in a kiss that just doesn't feel all that... straight to me. But Abril was quick to prove all of us wrong by locking in with Giovanni !

Speaking of Giovanni, the timing of this is quite suspicious considering he had a bit of his own meet-not-so-cute with a Yazmin. The two getting off on the wrong food but helping each other find the right one another and getting all cozy enough to take a nap outside. I don't about you all, but I don't think i've ever been that comfortable. Wonder with Yazmin thinks of this. Or Abril for that matter.

We could also ask Aivryn for her opinion on the matter considering how upset she was when Abril's new beau launched to the world to see. Apparently, even as her best friend, Aivryn found out at the same time everyone else did. I can't help but wonder why that is.

In more confusing but entertaining news, Omar and Dante are going on a date to decide which one gets to take which...one... on a... date ? I think I'm reading that correctly. Yes, bowling date. Loser takes other on date. No, yeah that's right. Well, whatever love looks like for you. Whenever there's a Dominguez-Herrera involved we're sure it'll be healthy and sane.

Maybe it's the bowling date nerves that led Dante to break Drew's nose? We hope that's healing up just fine.

Every month we hope Alba will stand up, and this month they came really close ! It was much of a hunch, but hey we'll take it. After a cold war, Milani raised the first white flag but all it took was one. You'll get there Al, we believe in you !

The festival seemed to be a hub for rekindling kisses, as Arlo and Esme were spotted liplocked on one of the benches. Sad thing about Leia bearing eye witness. Has anyone checked on her? What is it about good wine that makes you want to relive the past? Maybe they can go on a double date with Mallory and Abril and relive the past together.

Speaking of rekindling, but this time no kisses, exes Elijah and Sariyah, and Luna and Enzo were both spotted with frowns on their faces and eyes that were looking everywhere but each other. What conversation has you guys that deep in thought? Maybe you should take a drive, we here that helps.

If you're looking for a palette cleanser from all the mess, look no further than Jasper and Hunter. Gentle conversations and cutely planned dates. We wish them nothing but the best and maybe they could teach our many ( many ) confused couples a thing or two.

We hope that's enough to hold you over until next month. And if I missed anything, don't hesitate to send in a little tip to us via our anon box.

Here's some things we're keeping a close eye on for next month:

Ysla and Adem seem to be getting extremely close to little Emmie. Is it all just for her benefit? Astrid and Kaito already have the perfect starter for next month's tea cap, I wonder what else they'll get up to. What's the history there? How is Sariyah involved? Why does vic hate birthdays so much and why does esme suddenly care so much about his? Ximena and Bryce seem to also be spending a lot more time together. Aksel and Sarah's dinner table keeps getting bigger and bigger whole Luna's looks to be getting smaller, why is that? Will Drew ever get his double date? Is Luna like... okay?

If you didn't make this rounds teacap don't worry, we're still watching closely.

[cyborg-franky]

Thank you so much for being lovely and supporting me @mikosheadcanonblog

I hope you enjoy <3

Law x OC SFW WC: 2,054

He didn’t think much about dates and anniversaries, just thinking about birthdays and cards and celebrating caused an ache in his chest he would never admit to. He remembered when his mother and father had celebrated their wedding anniversary, it had been a lovely day. Instead of having a day to themselves, they took him and his sister to the park.

Aches and pains, the scars that would always remain inside him, across his heart and lurking at the edges of his mind for as long as he drew breath. That was the reason he pretended to forget everything, making people never expect anything from him.

Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin knew the truth and always had the decency to run interference on days like his birthday. Law sat at his desk, flipping open the leather-bound journal and seeing notes on each day of the week. He liked to be organized, just because he didn’t celebrate occasions didn’t mean he didn’t have them noted down, he didn’t like surprises after all.

He blinked tired eyes as he read the note about our anniversary. And by ours, he knew it was a marker in his and Ash’s relationship. One of significance if greeting cards were to be believed when he saw them in dotted around in stores while looking for supplies.

Law stared at the page, unblinking as he battled with his mind. Did he want to just ignore this like he did everything? Push it deep, deep down in his box of grief or did he want to do something about it? He never expected to be with someone this length of time let alone someone he actually had feelings for, someone like Ash.

Leaning back in his seat he played over every conversation with her, hanging onto every word, picking at past conversations for something to stand out. He wanted a glimmering jewel to appear in the sands of time, memories stored and kept as the hope inside his box of nightmares. She was his light, after all, the force that kept him grounded. 

Her face came to him, full lips, stunning eyes and long hair, how she would talk to him. He drummed his fingers on his desk, picking and pulling at the strands of thoughts. He wanted to come up with something he knew she’d love, something more than a gift that would attempt to be a grand gesture.

Something that would prove to Ash he always listened, that he cared. He knew he could often across as cold even to those who knew the reason for the chilly suit of armor he protected himself with, those so close to him.

He saw it, the idea appeared in the fog of recalling past conversations under the stars together. He could feel his lips tugging into a smirk as he felt proud of himself. Ash was going to have the anniversary of her life, he knew it because he knew her.

–

Ash looked at herself in the mirror, dressed in a warm coat of dark purple. It wasn’t often Law wanted to go for a trek across the snow and ice. Something in his past made his entire being tense when snow fell from the sky, how lost he looked, sadness in his eyes.

So when he told her they were going to surface near the winter island she was a little confused but she did as she was told, dressed warm and snug, prepared for biting cold. The door to their room opened and Law stepped in, announcing the tang had breached the water and they could go for their date.

Ash knew what date meant, it just meant time away from everyone else. She didn't mind, because as much as she loved the crew and knew how much Law cared for them she also knew he needed time away from them and truth was, so did she. She treasured her time alone with him more than any gift.

Law pulled her against him, a hand trailing through her hair as he admired her face, taking in how her nose looked, how her eyes gazed back into his, how her lips twitch in want to ask him what his plans were no doubt. He leaned down, kissing her forehead before taking her hand in his. “You’ll like it, I promise.” Ash’s lips curl in the hint of a smile as she nodded, following Law.

–

The cold hit her face, causing her cheeks to light up pink and her arms to seek out comfort, holding herself and shivering, her breath coming out in plumes of smoke as she eyed Law, unsure how he was doing so much better than her in this bleak winter air. 

Law’s gloved hand reached for hers, pulling her to the edge of the ship, to look over the rails. She could see sheets of floating ice, everything a blanket of never-ending white with blue in the distance and all around the tang.

“This is a strange place for a date, I’m freezing.” She said with a small puff of hot air into her cupped hands, hoping anything would be a brief reprieve from the cold. Law chuckled, hand outstretched and forming a blue sphere that engulfed them.

She hated this mode of transport, closing her eyes she waited until the uneasy feeling of being teleported faded. She stumbled when her foot hit the snow, Law’s arms around her, catching her before she could slip, she smiled at him in thanks as he waited for her to confirm she had found her footing.

“Where are we going?” She asked as she followed behind him, being led by a hand in hers as they walked, they could hear the sound of creaking ice as they walked across the crisp snow, hearing each footstep as she watched her breath in the freezing air, smokey in the cold winter atmosphere, trying to keep up with his long legs.

“You’ll see,” was all Law would give her and she tried to process it, what was he up to? Law didn’t like surprised so why was he planning one for her?

Ash was at his mercy as he gave nothing away, simply leading her further away from the tang, she could no longer see it in the distance, completely gone amongst the white and the snow-covered rocks and trees. She gripped his hand harder when she was unsure of her footing, going down a slope with him.

That was when she heard it, she heard the sound she remembered all too well and her eyes widened and her lips parted in an audible gasp as she stared ahead of her, walking closer and closer the sound got louder.

Law watched her face, seeing her expression change as she recognized the sound, when the fat creatures came into view he could hear her gasp, a hand over her mouth as fond memories came rushing back into her chest, warming her.

“Law..” she started as she let go of his hand, moving closer.

Spotted seals were everywhere. Big fat ones, small chubby ones, and tiny babies. She chuckled to herself, seeing Law raise his eyebrow as she pointed to a mother with her pups. “Look, it's your hat,” she teased with a cheeky smile on her face, Law rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile.

“I know they're your favorite,” Law said as he pulled something out of his coat, a box, he popped off the lid and there were fish pieces. He crouched down and held his hand out with some of the meat. 

The baby seals got a whiff of the fish as did the mother, Ash watched as the animals slid and flopped their way over. She knelt in the snow by Law’s side, watching the mother seal take a big sniff of Law’s hand, deciding he wasn’t a danger she grabbed the fish and made a happy sound.

Ash felt at home around the creatures, reminding her of home. It helped to ease the pain of missing her family as she watched Law get another chunk of food from the box, offering it this time to the pups. Both made happy sounds as they snuffled and scoffed it from the palm of his hand. If that wasn’t cute enough for her then the face Law was making would finish her.

The delight in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips as he let the pups playfully nip and grab his hand. He offered her the box and she took a piece of fish out, putting it on her hand and holding it flat. She tried not to giggle with the cute little pup’s whiskers twitching and wiggling before he started to eat it.

“Happy anniversary,” Law said, not looking at her, watching as some other spotted seals headed over to them, knowing there were snacks to be had and a chance for belly rubs to be gifted by their new human friends. She looked at him as the mother of the pups rolled over, exposing her fat tummy to Ash, letting her rub and pat her.

“I thought you didn’t celebrate things like this?” She asked as she jiggled the animal’s round belly. Feeling her flippers grab her hand, keeping her in place, basking in Ash’s attention as she watched Law, her eyes fixed on his face, waiting for any explanation.

“I don’t, but this,” He paused from his task, petting one of the pups and seeing how happy the animal was, he couldn’t help the smile on his face. He took a breath and stared at the sky, the snow was starting to fall from the heavens and he desperately hoped they could provide him with an answer. She waited, her full attention on him as the mother seal barked and moved closer, annoyed Ash wasn’t rubbing her belly anymore.

“This is different.” He shrugged, Ash clicked her tongue, letting him know the reply wasn’t good enough, “And why is that?” She asked and yelped when the large seal jumped up, knocking her over as Law stared wide-eyed. The seal just wanted more attention, he watched as she snuffled and sniffed at Ash hoping for more food.

Ash laughed, it was a beautiful sound that thawed the ice around his heart, seeing how she played with the animal, the brightness in her eyes as she tried to wiggle away from the seal. Law shook the box and got the mother's attention, letting Ash move as the small seal family started to eat from the box. 

The melody of her laughter had filled him with a new courage to admit what he really felt, why this was different, why this was something he cared about, even more than his own birthday. He sat back on the snow, watching the family eat their fish before Ash moved over, cuddling into his side, he draped an arm around her.

“We’ve been dating awhile and I wanted to celebrate that milestone with you, it’s important to me because I never thought I’d be with someone like this, in a relationship, I never thought I could find this sort of love. “He admitted, maybe it was the snow making him nostalgic, making all his feelings bubble to the surface, maybe it was hearing her laugh or perhaps the joy in this moment.

Maybe it was all of the above he told himself as he felt her lean against him. “I never thought I’d let someone in, to me this is more than celebrating us, the time we’ve been together but… to me, it also feels like a marker of when I became human again, when you helped me… I love you, Ash.” He said, barely whispering as he looked away.

Not used to pouring out all his feelings, baring his heart for the world to see. But this wasn’t anyone, this was Ash and a few seals. Ash took in his confession, reaching up and taking his chin, feeling the scruff and making him turn to her.

“This is amazing Law, thank you.” She leaned up, happy he understood what she wanted, leaning down to close the distance. “I love you too,” she said just before his lips met hers and she melted into the touches.

Maybe celebrating things wasn’t so bad, Law thought to himself.

[littlequeen7]

I have barely any followers so I dont expect anybody to see this. But if there is any place to talk about my love for Taylor, it is here.

I've had a few people ask me why I love Taylor Swift so much. I understand why they ask, and why I might get weird looks, parasocial relationships and whatnot. But what they don't understand and what I have a hard time communicating is that Taylor is more than just music to me.

We grew up together. I'm five and a half years younger than her, so she completely shaped my adolescence. When Debut came out I was just starting the 6th grade, the grade when I learned some harsh lessons about bullying and friendships.

Fearless came out in the middle of 8th grade, the worst year of my life. That album was a comfort to me when everything else seemed hopeless. I had cut-outs from J-14 magazine plastered on my walls, of Taylor and the Jonas Brothers. I tried to convince my teacher that we should sing Fifteen at our 8th grade graduation (I lost that one).

Speak Now came out when I was 15, and I listened to that album until every word was ingrained in my brain. My older cousin bought us tickets to her Speak Now tour for my birthday, and she was my first ever big concert. We drew 13's on the back of our hands and screamed along with her while she sang Mean barefoot, while she hit giant bells during Haunted (my favorite song at the time), while she floated over the crowd on her balcony in her Love Story outfit right in front of us, close enough I thought if I reached out I could touch her. I don't remember which cover she sang, but she did it in her purple dress, with sharpie scrawled across her arms. I took so many blurry and grainy photos of her that day. Speak Now will always have a very special place in my heart.

Red came out when I was 17. I learned through one of her diary entries that she had actually written the song Red on the flight home from our concert. To think that I saw her not even 24 hours before she wrote one of the most iconic songs of her career was mind blowing. I was dating now, so all of the songs about relationships became relatable for the first time. I knew from the moment I heard it that All Too Well was the best song of her career, and I have some obnoxious Facebook posts to prove it. The Last Time became one of my favorite songs she had ever made. Flash forward 5 years and I was posting 22 on my Facebook the minute it hit midnight. (Yes, Facebook. I'm old and uncool, we've established that already.)

1989 came out the year after I graduated high school. I was on my own for the first time, completely unprepared and immature, with a toxic partner who I ended up staying with for 5 years. I still have distinct memories of riding the bus past the WWU campus on my way to work, blasting the album in my headphones. I was in my semi-popular Lana Del Rey Tumblr days then, and you best believe I was making gifsets of the Blank Space music video. These were also the years when I sank into my deepest depression. 1989 was a bright light in that darkness.

Reputation came out when I was actually 22, right after leaving the five year relationship, and leaving everything I owned behind me or in storage, while my ex took my two beloved cats. This was my revenge era, my short lived "hoe phase" if you will. I remember listening to it for the first time in the car with my mom while driving to Seattle. I remember listening to it in the kitchen with my then 11 year old sister, and her saying "well that's inappropriate" during one of the songs (probably Dress). I was a little too harsh when I said, "well she's a grown adult, shes writing for herself, not writing for kids." What a brat. I specifically remember one Tumblr post from a fan that went to the Secret Sessions, of her gasping and saying "Taylor!" in a scandalized way during one of the songs (my guess is, again, Dress) and Taylor replying something along the lines of "I know, right!" To this day, Reputation is the album I have the most fun listening to, and the one I blast the loudest in the car.

Lover came out when I was 24, living in a small room without a door in my Grandma's house that doubled as her office. This was the no privacy era and it did NOT slay. This was also the era that I was in love with someone I shouldn't have been (you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes). Every love song on that album was dedicated to him. False God became a new favorite. This was the time right before it all fell apart, when the entire world shut down and I hurt people and was hurt myself (again, stupid prizes).

Folklore came out in the midst of being completely isolated from the world, except being dropped off at work every day and trying to go to college online. The beginning of my severe and debilitating germaphobia. The constant fear that I would catch COVID from my irresponsible coworkers. Not to mention, my heart was ripped open because I was August, and she was Betty. This album, I think, is the one where I couldn't deny the similarities to my own situation. It felt like it was meant for me, in that moment. Seven was for the little me that died when I was young. This Is Me Trying was a letter to my loved ones, when I couldn't explain that my brain was actively trying to kill me. I've only listened to Hoax twice, because that one is the most painful. I was the epitome of "I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want, just not home."

Evermore, bless it's heart, came out of nowhere and was an amazing surprise. That being said (Ryan Bergara voice), Tolerate It, Happiness, Ivy, Long Story Short, Closure, Evermore and Right Where You Left Me were a twist in the knife of a trauma that wouldn't leave me, no matter how hard I tried. I was out on my own, truly alone, for the first time in my life. And I was terrified that, like Taylor said, this pain would be forevermore.

The re-records were amazing. I was so proud of Taylor for sticking up for herself and challenging the leeches that had gotten rich off of her talent. The moment she hinted at the 10 minute version on social media, I flipped my shit. Again, I have Facebook posts to prove it lol. I memorized the new verses in a day, I listened to it on repeat for weeks. I was staying at an airbnb the day Red TV came out, and I spent that night dancing around the kitchen with my headphones on.

And now... Midnights. I'm 27 now, and by this point I've lived a thousand different lifetimes. I listened to it in my dorm room alone, with my headphones on the second it was released. And then for good measure, I listened to it again the second the 3 AM version came out. I always need the second listen, to really soak up and understand an album. I made a bracket tournament thingie of all of the songs, and at first Vigilante Shit won, but after a couple more listens, Karma replaced it in the top spot. I listened to this album so much, on repeat constantly, that even though it was released in October, every single song made it to my Spotify Wrapped (not to mention the fact that I was in the top 2% of TS listeners). I was lucky enough to score tickets to the Era's tour, after much anxiety and freaking out from crashing websites and delayed sales. I screamed as soon as it was confirmed. Things have been rough, especially in the last month or so. One of the only things keeping me hopeful is the fact that in 4 months, I will get to see one of my favorite people in concert again.

That's not to mention the merch over the years. A Speak Now Tour shirt, notebooks and posters with Taylor's face on them, two signed CD's, a Red cardigan, a "fuck the patriarchy" keychain, The Scarf, and a few (not as many as I'd like) vinyls. I'm still pissed that my 1989 CD with the polaroids is lost somewhere in my storage unit.

At this point, if anyone is reading this, which I doubt they will, and especially if they have read this far (I'm sorry this post turned into a monster), they're probably thinking that I am a weirdly obsessed fan. Someone who thinks that someone they've never met in person is their BFF. I don't think I'm either of those things, but Taylor Swift has, and always will be a comfort to me. Especially as a neurodivergent person, having just ONE person who has been consistent for most of my life, someone who I can look up to and learn from, music I can listen to and immediately be comforted, is essential. At this point, now that I really think about it, Taylor Swift really is one of my special interests, and she has been long before I even knew that special interests were a thing (late diagnosed).

On top of all of this, she is just a genuinely good and kind person. You don't see that super often, in this cut throat industry. She is someone to look up to, even if Dear Reader says otherwise.

I've been writing this for about half an hour, and my phone is shaking from holding it above my head while I lay in bed and type. If literally anyone gets this far in the post, thanks for reading my weird diary entry I guess lol. Above all else, this is really a love letter to Taylor. Thank you for being there for me through it all.

[purplesurveys]

1910

How much did your senior prom dress cost you? Not much, I think it was just around 5k? My school even imposed a maximum amount we should only spend on the dress, and had each of us show the receipts for it to prove we didn't go over. Quite controlling, but honestly also made sense considering not everyone was well off so I don't mind it in retrospect.

What dreams have stuck with you since childhood? I've always wanted to see a WWE show from ringside. And to travel to Chicago.

Have you ever been in a serious romantic relationship? Sure.

Did you ever take your dog to school? Just once. I brought Kimi in since it was graduation photo taking day and I wanted him part of my portraits.

If you had had a baby in high school, what would you have named him or her? 100% I would have named them April if I had a girl. For a boy, Owen was always a top pick of mine after Owen Hart, even in high school.

If you had a baby now, what would you name him or her? I'd go for a first and second name that would make their nickname Mia.

Have you ever seen someone throw up on a plane? Nope.

Do you get motion sickness? Yeah, they're frequent and bad.

Has God ever healed you of anything? If so, what? Um, no.

What is the most boring church you have ever attended? All of them?

What is the most lively church you have ever attended? None of them.

Do you find church fun or boring? Boring and personally unnecessary. Also thinks very highly of themselves.

What do you hate the most about summer? The heat, the humidity.

Which part of your body is the most muscular? I never work out lol but if anything, probably my arms? I'm used to doing chores at home and carrying a lot of heavy boxes and other things at work.

Did you ever take Latin in school? No. They tried teaching us French at one point but it didn't catch on.

Which major holiday is closest to your birthday? It is almost always usually days away from Easter Sunday.

What is your favorite Japanese name? Mitsuha, Michiko, Akiko.

Have you ever ran a cash register? I have not.

Did you collect Bratz dolls when you were younger? Not dolls, but I liked Bratz nonetheless and had other stuff with their branding on it. I had Bratz boots, tops, skirts, lunchboxes, and bags.

Do you think your mom is attractive? Yes, she's pretty and also looks very young for her age. People are usually surprised when they find out she's over 50.

What was the last thing that disappointed you? Uhh very minor but I was looking forward to learning from this mini documentary I found on YouTube only for it to have commentary/a clear bias right off the bat.

Do you like the feeling in your stomach on a big drop on a roller coaster? It's the worst. I experienced it once when I gave the Singapore Universal Studios kiddie rollercoaster a chance – never rode one again, lol.

Skeletons or scarecrows? Idk, skeletons I guess?

Do you own pumpkin earrings? Nope.

What computer game did you used to play all the time? That bartender game where you had to mix drinks, only for the dude to hate like 99.9% of the mixes.

When was the last time you read a book? Around a month ago when Drew had me read this leadership self-help book.

Would you allow your children to date prior to 16? (assuming you want any) That's fine. What I'd prioritize above all is communication, so it would be great if they can open up to me about this sort of thing so that I could at least help where I'm needed.

What was the last restaurant you made a reservation at? a mano.

Which app on your phone do you tend to get the most notifications from? Mail or Viber.

What is something you gave up on after many failed attempts? Writing stories.

Do you watch political shows? I've only seen The Crown. Generally, I find the genre interesting but just never have the time to watch any of them.

Do you play any fantasy/roleplaying games? What? Nope.

Do you like salami? Not really.

When was the last time you ate meat? This evening, alongside spicy Chapaguri noodles. So spicy my tummy has been feeling like its own ring of fire the whole evening :( I have milk now which is helping, but the burning sensation is yet to go away completely.

What was the last hot drink you drank? I can't remember. I usually skip on hot drinks because I do not find the 'hot' in hot drinks enjoyable.

Have your parents met your boyfriend/exes? Yes.

How about your boyfriend’s parents? Met them? Yes, we were legal with her parents too.

Do you know how to say I love you in at least 4 languages? I love you, te amo, saranghaeyo, mahal kita.

Do you find the sound of a cat’s purr relaxing? Yes!!! I will admit I never really knew or bothered to learn the ~science behind purring, then we got Max who purrs like 80% of the time and it's one of my favorite things to listen to.

Do you know your mum’s first pet’s name? Nope.

Would you ever want to be famous? If so, for what? The most I'd ask for is to be associated with someone famous, like being their best friend or whatever lol. I wouldn't want to be the famous person myself.

Would you ever get a heart tattoo or your back? No.

What fruit can’t you stand? All of them, but most especially bananas. Or mangoes.

Do you know anyone autistic? Yes.

How about someone bipolar? Yeah.

What do you consider private to you? My peace and healing.

Name somebody you know who deserves a better life than they have: My eldest cousin, mom's side. He and his brother.

Name something that you’re good at but don’t like: Folding laundry.

Name something that you’re bad at but DO like: Singing (when I'm alone).

Name somebody who has tried to help you and ended up hurting you: My mom.

Name a date that has a lot of significance to you: April 7th.

Name something in your life that was a blessing in disguise: My breakup.

Name something that you’ve done that would be considered rebellious: Attending political rallies.

Name something you wish you had enough money to do: Fully pay for a condo.

[hallowcked]

It did matter. If she would have fought for him he would still be hers. He never would have moved on to Nina. He never would have been broken to a million pieces. They would have been happy. Now she was just another scar tattooed over. The heart she drew above his knee that he had permanently inked was blacked out with another rune. He didn't want to remember her and now here she was; back in town like she never left. If anything, it pissed him off. She should have stayed gone.

I thought Tyler O'Neill didn't do girlfriends? He's surprised she remembers that little detail. Because that's all it was supposed to be — little. When he told her he wasn't into settling down, he didn't mean it. There were walls he put up, but they were meant to be climbed over, not avoided. No one wants to be alone; not really. "So that's what you thought? That I wasn't into you?" This conversation was wrong on so many levels. He shouldn't be alone with his ex-girlfriend digging up old skeletons. Brooke would be heartbroken. They have already gone through too much with Lo, Romeo, Nina, and Seth to add another obstacle.

"Who did you come with?" He just hoped it wasn't anyone he knew. Tyler's friends were pretty limited. For years he didn't have any at all, but Volchok proved to be someone he could trust. Then there was Jake, they weren't friends, but having her around Jake would be annoying. Especially with him up Brooke's ass all the time. He was like a wedgie but worse.

"Her name is Brooke." He can't help the smile that flitters across his lips as he takes a seat beside her on the bed. Brooke was a fairytale come true. She was every wish on every star, on every birthday candle. He would die for her. In fact, he almost did. Which was something Antonia probably missed despite it being all over the local news three years ago. "We're actually playing a game. You wouldn't get it, though." Roleplay was still new to him. But he was supposed to be skulking around in a Ghostface mask. It was twisted but exciting. "We met in school. I was actually dating her best friend at the time. But she's a whole other story. Or nightmare depending how you look at it."

"It wouldn't have mattered what I said to defend you against them." Albeit, she tried to at first. If he thought she was stubborn, her parents were even worse. Plus, it didn't matter if Antonia was willing to throw her entire life away for him They would have willingly sacrificed his life and future over their own daughter's. even at the cost of Antonia hating them until the day she dies.

"Girlfriend, huh?" She tries not to feel slighted by the sting of his rejection as he removes her hand from his chest. But, she can't help the little flutter of jealousy all the same. Nevertheless, she nods - if only to appear compliant so he will continue to explore the party alone with her. She was convinced once they were alone and reminiscing, he wouldn't be able to resist her. "I thought Tyler O'Neill didn't do girlfriends?" At least, that's what he told her when they first started hanging out. He was convinced all women were evil and that they were just using him for sex. Or he was just using them to fill a void of his own. "Well, if it makes you feel any better...." she began, as she led him through the throngs of people down the hallway to an empty room. Once they were alone and the door was locked behind them so no one could interrupt, Toni sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to he, encouraging him to sit down. "I came here with someone too. So, you don't have to worry about me jumping your bones the way I used to." Though, those times were fun.

And right now, she was exaggerating. Truth was, her and Jesse weren't together anymore either. He ghosted her like she ghosted Tyler. So now, she could understand how he felt when it happened to him. "Tell me about her. What's her name? Where is she? Why aren't you two christening the sheets somewhere together?"

[dkfile]

the soulmate service

❛ pretty at every hour of the day but especially prettier under the glow of the sunset. ❜

word count | 31.0k (31,023) genre | fluff, angst, soulmate au, summer break au, (one-sided) rivals to lovers ━ matchmaker!vernon, older brother!soonyoung

the soulmate service has one purpose: to help those who drew the short end of the stick and ended up without a person to live their forever with. after the heart wrenching realization that the boy you’ve loved since you were thirteen isn’t the one meant for you, you put your love life in the hands of vernon chwe — which, now that you think about it, is probably a very bad idea.

★ warnings | ambiguous/open ending, mentions of unrequited love, lots of bickering between vernon and reader, pining (?), there’s angst but it’s minimal

THE RED STRING, more commonly known as The String of Fate, appears on an individual’s finger at the exact minute they turn eighteen. The string may either: (1) turn gold if the individual falls in love with their soulmate by 24 hours after first contact, or (2) be cut if said person and their soulmate fail to fall in love.

ZERO.

At thirteen, you’re convinced Lee Seokmin’s your soulmate. You’re sure of it.

It’s basic logic — you’re similar, and not just in the favourite colour and favourite animal type of way (although yes, you both like the colour yellow and yes, you both love dogs), but also in the way where his dream date is the same as yours, and the only difference between the wedding you’ve envisioned and his, is that Seokmin’s doesn’t involve a tremendous balloon arch (but that can be negotiated).

Seokmin’s gold. His eyes are sugary, and he keeps his pinky promises, and the hair at the back of his head is untameable. His smile is radiant in every sense of the word, holding the effulgent type of brightness that blinds.

Your brother recognizes the puppy dog love when you’re sixteen and no longer trying to hide it. He tells you it’s a childhood crush you’ll get over and that it better happen fast, because there’s no way he’s ever letting you, lovesick, anywhere near his best friend.

And then you tell him that Seokmin’s your soulmate — you’re sure of it; as sure as the floor beneath your feet, as the gravity keeping you grounded. When you turn eighteen, the universe will only prove your suspicions and your string will be gold because you already love him.

“That’s not how it works,” Soonyoung deadpans, snatching the dish rag from your hands.

You’re not fazed by the disgusted look Soonyoung gives you at your response. “We’ll defy the universe, then.”

But you don’t. Because Seokmin turns eighteen before you, and two months before fate presents you with its one of a kind eighteenth birthday gift, he finds his soulmate.

And it’s not you.

Monday, June 28 22:39 p.m.

soonyoung: i can’t believe you wrote a sappy paragraph for ur insta caption soonyoung: we aren’t leaving until tmrw in case you forgot

seok oh come on soonyoung give your siblings a break

you: yeah can you blame me 😕 i’m gonna miss seokmin a lot

seok aw 😓❤️

soonyoung: wait hold on what about me?

you: goodnight

soonyoung: HEY soonyoung: WHAT ABT ME ???

JUNE 29.

“I’m telling you, it’s going to rain and everything’s gonna get soaked.”

“It’s not going to rain.”

“Grab the tarp just in case.”

“I checked the forecast five times—” with the weather app opened, you shove your phone into Soonyoung’s face, only to almost drop it after he swats it away. “—and it says it’s not gonna rain. It doesn’t even say there’s a 10% chance. Clear skies all throughout your entire road trip.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung nods, poking his tongue into his cheek. “Okay. But can you just grab the tarp?”

You scowl at him, pocketing your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. “I’m not getting you the fucking tarp,” you hiss. “Mostly because I don’t even think we have one.”

Seokmin appears beside you and nudges your shoulder. “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” he gives his best friend a reassuring smile. “But I already put it in the back of your truck.”

Soonyoung, annoyingly melodramatic, sighs in relief. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Seokmin only shrugs in response and takes Soonyoung’s place across from you when the latter hurries to help your dad with one of the boxes. You’re not surprised when Seokmin gives you the same dazzling grin you’ve fallen in love with, shoving his pockets into his sweater despite the fact that the sun burns.

His stuff is haphazardly stuffed in boxes he found in his basement and thrown into Soonyoung’s beat-down pickup truck. A college pamphlet is folded in half and tucked into his back pocket and he wears the expression of a boy desperate to leave home. Excited to leave home.

Seokmin’s leaving.

Him and Soonyoung both, because you could never find one without the other. Their gap year has given them a lot of time to reflect and figure out what they wanted to do with their lives. And when they figured it out, they enrolled into the same college. And now they’re moving away.

“So, will you miss us?” Seokmin asks. It’s a stupid question but he doesn’t know it.

“No,” you scoff. Seokmin bites his tongue to stop from smiling and your heart pangs, “I don’t think I will. The house will be peaceful now — you and Soon won’t come barging into my room without knocking anymore.”

They won’t barge into your room anymore. Your heart pangs again.

Seokmin rubs his cheek, long fingers grazing honey skin. “I’ll miss you too,” he says sincerely. Behind him, Soonyoung talks with your parents, rolling his eyes at your worrying mother but hugging her nevertheless. Your finger twitches to move towards Seokmin one last time and touch him before he disappears.

But he was never yours to begin with. He was always his soulmate’s — he just didn’t know it until he met them in the candy section of a convenience store during one of his and Soonyoung’s many spontaneous trips out of town.

It’s been months and it still hurts. “I know you will,” you reply and watch as he takes a step back, then another. He’s making his way towards the car. “I made your life very interesting, you know.”

His smile is the most infuriating thing about him. “Oh, without a shadow of a doubt.” And then he turns to Soonyoung and hugs your parents too. Bitterly you wonder why he didn’t hug you, but you know it’s for the best if he didn’t; you wouldn’t have been able to let go.

Soonyoung and Seokmin enter the car, your brother settling into the driver’s seat because, despite them both being god awful drivers, Soonyoung is better. The car door slams and you step beside your parents by the fence and watch as the flick in Soonyoung’s wrist sets the ignition to life.

“I’ll see you in August?” you shout, unconsciously rubbing your index finger and thumb over your right pinky. Before, you’d be itching for your eighteenth birthday to arrive, but now you just want it over and done. Your family wouldn’t have that, though — they believe in love and happy endings and everything in between.

You hear Soonyoung’s voice. He’s always been loud and you hate that you’ll miss it. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he exclaims, and reaches over Seokmin to poke his head through the window. “Bye!”

The car jerks forward while Soonyoung is still sprawled on Seokmin’s lap. Your mom yelps. “Didn’t I tell you to make sure the car was in park?” your dad chides, stomping over to the car and Soonyoung hurries to sit back in his seat.

“It was!” Soonyoung whines. “I just put it in drive because we’re leaving.”

Your dad rubs his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

Even though you can’t see him, you know Soonyoung’s grinning like the pain in the ass he is. “I love you, dad.”

Your dad grumbles. “I love you, Soonyoung.”

But Soonyoung doesn’t stop talking. “I love you, mom! I love you, Y/N!”

You hear Seokmin grunt, “Dude, where’s my ‘I love you’?”

“I see you everyday. I’m not gonna give you one,” Soonyoung scoffs. Then he shoves Seokmin into the side of the door gently and your stomach twists.

With one last goodbye, Soonyoung stomps on the gas and the car zips away. Your mom rolls her eyes as she moves to walk back inside of the house, grumbling about how horribly fast of a driver her son is. Your dad follows, asking if she wants a ride to work tomorrow, and you only watch the car until it turns the corner and disappears as it whizzes by your neighbour’s house.

It’s not fair, you think. You know Seokmin. He knows you. You’ve known him for your entire life and you love him for all his faults and his flaws. It’s cruel that the universe let you fall for him all while knowing that he was never meant to be with you.

But falling was never the universe’s fault.

It was yours.

JUNE 30.

A random 80s song Soonyoung’s downloaded isn’t what wakes you up this morning.

“Rise and shine!”

It’s Kim Jiwoo.

You groggily blink up at the ceiling, only to automatically squint as the sunlight pours through the window. Your black curtains — your oh so lovely black curtains that keep the sun out and let you sleep peacefully — are drawn, but that’s not what you’re focussed on. No, what you’re focussed on is that Jiwoo’s matched her big and bright smile with a sweater you’re pretty sure is yours.

Your head hits the pillow. “It’s too early for this.”

Jiwoo watches as you turn to face the wall away from the window. “The sun’s already up,” she says as if you don’t already know. “And we’ve got places to be. So get ready.”

Deciding to ignore the statement, you ask, “How did you even get in?”

“Your family’s very creative when it comes to hiding a backup key,” Jiwoo quips sarcastically and you make a mental note to talk to your parents about hiding the key under the welcome mat. “It’s insane how you guys haven’t been robbed yet.”

You shuffle to stare at Jiwoo. “Wait, so mom and dad didn’t let you in?”

She shakes her head. “No, they were still asleep when I got here. I made them eggs though.”

You can practically imagine your parents walking down the stairs only to find their kid’s best friend scrambling eggs in the kitchen and greeting them with a cheerful good morning. Visualizing your father’s expression is easy enough — he’s always been flawed when it comes to hiding his emotions.

Mom says you get that trait from him.

“Do you ever sleep?”

Jiwoo smiles. “Got five hours last night,” she shrugs. “And bought an extra large cup of coffee before getting here.”

Of course she did. No rest for the wicked.

Having no energy to retort, you nod, “Okay.”

Jiwoo blinks at you. “Are you not going to get up?”

Shuffling to rest against the headboard, you ask, “Why are you here?”

“Oh, it was this whole thing,” she waves her hand dismissively and shakes her head. “Soonyoung texted me yesterday and he was talking about how down you looked yesterday before him and Seok left—”

“They were leaving,” you interject quickly, hoping this conversation isn’t going in the direction you predict it’s going to go in, “of course I was sad.”

Jiwoo attempts to brush her bangs out of her eyes. “Soonyoung thought you’re still upset about the whole soulmate thing,” she replies and raises her eyebrows at your frown. “Your brother’s more observant than you give him credit for.”

You grumble. “Whatever.”

“Y/N, you can’t act like this all summer.”

“Like what?”

She waves her hand again with an air of nonchalance, but from the look on her face, you know she’ll drag you out of bed if she has to. Jiwoo’s always been as stubborn as she is optimistic.

“Like this,” she gestures towards you. “Heartbroken over a man who never even knew that you loved him. Actually, no — heartbroken over a man who isn’t even here.”

You pout. “Seokmin’s not that far away.”

“He’s far enough,” Jiwoo sighs. “Listen, he’s a great guy, Y/N, but he’s not worth crying over.”

She’s right. You know Seokmin’s a good person and you know you shouldn’t be upset over him. Yeah, you love him and he doesn’t love you back, but that isn’t his fault. You should get over him, you should put this behind you and focus on the remaining time you have left with Jiwoo before she packs her bags and heads to South Korea.

But it’s hard, especially since you believed your whole life that Seokmin was your soulmate — and also a part of you doesn’t want to let that thought go.

Jiwoo grabs your blankets and snatches it off your body. “Get dressed,” she isn’t able to stop the pity from blooming in her eyes. The sight of it bothers you, so you plant your feet on the floor and trudge towards your closet. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re done.”

Halfway through the bus ride it hits you that you still don’t know where Jiwoo’s taking you. She tells you it’s a surprise while her usual happy-go-lucky grin is replaced with one with an undertone of mischief. You can count on one hand the amount of times Jiwoo’s scheming face has ended well for you with two fingers left to spare.

Saying you’re a little suspicious is an understatement.

Eventually, she hops off the bus and leads you into a vaguely familiar Target store; the one you usually go to is walking distance from your house, and you would never go out of the way to bus to a different one.

Goosebumps rise on your skin the moment you enter the building, engulfed in the air-conditioned atmosphere and the overplayed songs blasting through the speakers. The store’s not as crowded as you expected it to be; the employees are tired and the Starbucks is empty.

Jiwoo grabs your wrist and drags you past the checkouts until you reach a small store with a rack of pamphlets and magazines placed near the entrance. The exterior walls are pastel pink and ‘THE SOULMATE SERVICE’ glares down at you, painted in a dull red. Inside, two employees talk amongst themselves behind the counter.

Your eyes rake over the store’s name again. “In case you don’t remember,” you say softly to Jiwoo, noting how some of the paint is chipping away, “I’m not eighteen and I haven’t found my soulmate.”

“Yeah, well,” Jiwoo purses her lips and takes a step inside, “who better to help you get over Seokmin than the best matchmakers the world has seen, right?”

You immediately don’t like the sound of that, but before you can attempt to get any more information, Jiwoo’s skipping off to one of the employees who doesn’t look particularly happy to see her. You take a pamphlet by the rack and flip through, scowling at the description written at the front:

Here at The Soulmate Service we help people who want to find love. Whether it be those who couldn’t find it or those who did but were never loved back—

After annoyedly placing the pamphlet back onto the rack and realizing that artificial images of happy couples are plastered all over the walls, you decide that sticking by Jiwoo is better for your sanity. Although, when you get to the front desk, you can tell the employee she’s bickering with grows frustrated by the second.

“Oh, great,” the employee grunts when you fill in the empty spot on Jiwoo’s left, “you must be the person Jiwoo won’t shut up about.”

Jiwoo scowls. “Your customer service is awful,” she turns to you and hugs your arm to her side. “This is Winn. He’s my neighbour.”

“Moving into the house across from hers was the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jiwoo replies. “I’m getting you more customers and this is how you treat me?”

Your eyes widen at that. “Wait, no,” you chuckle nervously, “I’m not a customer.”

Winn quirks an eyebrow and looks from you to Jiwoo.

“Yes, you are,” Jiwoo says firmly, fixing you with a stern look. “Remember what we talked about earlier?”

“Ah, yes,” you quip in a sarcastic wistful tone, “I’m heartbroken and sad and Seokmin is great but he’s not worth crying over.”

“Exactly!” Jiwoo exclaims, brushing off your rancour. “Winn, here, has someone who can help you. Getting over first loves and all that.”

The exasperation on Winn’s face is painful. “No, I don’t. This is a soulmate service, Jiwoo, and in case your friend isn’t extremely desperate to find someone to fill in the void fate left behind, then I can’t help.”

“But Y/N does need a void filled!” Jiwoo argues. “Have I told you that she thought her soulmate—?”

You shove her. “Hey!” you exclaim. “You can’t just tell random people the ups and downs of my love life!”

“You don’t have a love life,” Jiwoo always remembers to add an extra flair of drama in everything she does. From the look she gives you to the way she throws her arms up, “that’s the problem.”

On the tip of your tongue, there’s a retort. An argument, a response you want to give her, because you do have a love life… Well, except for the fact that you don’t. Going on a few dates during high school but never pursuing a relationship because you believed your world revolved around a boy who never loved you doesn’t count as having a love life. In more ways than one, what you feel for Seokmin never counted and never will.

You may love Seokmin but he was never yours. It repeats in your mind as Jiwoo turns back to argue with Winn. The mantra never stops, as if your head is desperately trying to send a message to your heart, reminding it that the wound sliced through it has to heal, and what better time than to start now?

Somehow, when your hand squeezes Jiwoo’s, she knows the message you’re trying to get across. She squeezes your hand back — in comfort, in reassurance, in a way that tells you you’re going to be okay.

You just hope she’s right.

JULY 1.

You know who Vernon Chwe is, but you wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend.

(He’s a pain in the ass.)

In kindergarten, your brother had boasted about how he was the nicest kid in his class and sent you a condescending smirk that made you kick his shins — which only proved his point that you’re the meanest person he knows. Obviously, he was wrong (as first grade boys always are) and to prove it, you went to the first lonely classmate you saw in the sandbox and helped him build a sandcastle. Only, after getting the inevitable praise from your fellow classmates, he took all the credit, and you were beyond mad.

Back then, the silent treatment deemed an appropriate punishment, but Vernon didn’t seem all that bothered by it. Even if you didn’t speak to him years after kindergarten ended.

On the first day of fifth grade, Mrs Sinclair had put a seating plan on the projector and, to your dismay, you had to sit beside Vernon for potentially the rest of the year. He drew on the table, tucked his foot at the back of your chair leg to make you trip, and send you a snobbish grin whenever you looked back at him. Whenever he got in trouble, he liked dragging you down with him, too, and you spent many wasted lunchtimes in the classroom with Vernon while your friends played outside.

Eventually, two months before the school year reached its end, Mrs Sinclair decided enough was enough and decided to move you.

“You and Vernon have been causing too much trouble for me this year,” she had commented with a clipped tone that made you want to talk back and retort that you never did anything wrong. But you kept your mouth shut, because at least you were being put far away from him.

You didn’t attempt to try and be civil with Vernon after that — not in junior high or in high school, because he would always cause a ruckus at the back of the classroom, slip mocking love notes into your locker on Valentine’s Day, and plastered his prom king campaign posters over yours.

(You didn’t win, but he didn’t either, so you count that as a victory.)

You can’t believe this is the person who’s meant to help you get over Seokmin.

“Winn says he’s one of the best matchmakers he has,” Jiwoo tries to reassure you over the phone after you spot Vernon sitting on the park bench. “Obviously I don’t know if that’s the truth since Winn hates my guts. And also Vernon’s barely an adult, but,” Jiwoo pauses for a moment, choosing her words carefully, “at school Vernon always seemed to be a hopeless romantic, right?”

“I can’t believe this,” you practically spit. “I want out.”

Jiwoo gasps dramatically through the phone. “What? Are you kidding? You can’t do that!”

“I’m not going to let Vernon Chwe of all people dictate my love life.”

“Okay. Again, it’s not like you have one—”

“I’m leaving, Jiwoo.”

“No, wait!” Jiwoo says hurriedly. “Just give this a chance, okay? A week, tops. If you don’t like it by then, you can be a sucker and give up.”

“No.”

You can already imagine her lips forming into a pout. “Please? Winn’s gonna kill me if I made him go through all that trouble only to have you back out.”

Your mouth opens to argue again and you almost suggest that this is has to be some sort of practical joke. Or, maybe, Vernon just happened to sit in the same spot Winn told you to go for your first meeting. Maybe, Vernon is being a clueless idiot as per usual, and has nothing do with any of this.

But then his eyes flicker from the trees and land on you, and from the way his mouth curls, you realize Winn’s told him who his next client is.

You forgot how aggravating his grin is. “I have to go,” you growl into your phone. The venom is misdirected; Jiwoo shouldn’t be on the receiving end of it, but there’s just something about your annoyance for Vernon that makes you lose control. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Um, okay,” Jiwoo replies and lets you hang up first.

As you walk towards the bench, slipping your phone into your back pocket, the mirth on Vernon’s face grows. You liked it better when you graduated and didn’t have to think about him again. Only a few days into summer vacation and he’s here, trouble tainting his expression and a haunting grin that’s only purpose is to irritate you.

“Well,” Vernon begins when you stop in front of him, “long time no see, Y/N!”

Your jaw clenches, hating the way your name rolls off his tongue. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, would you rather I call you Kwon?” he scoffs. “I thought we were past the stage of being on a last-name basis.”

“This is unbelievable,” you ignore his statement and plop yourself on the far end of the bench. You aren’t looking at him. He can only be seen through the corner of your eye, but he still somehow manages to cloud your vision. “When the hell did you decide to pick matchmaking as a profession?”

Vernon shrugs. “It’s only a part-time job,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate when you sneer at him. How on earth did Vernon manage to land a part-time job at a matchmaking agency? “But today isn’t about me. It’s about you, isn’t it?”

You rub your eyes and repeat, “This is unbelievable.”

Vernon ignores you. “I didn’t know you were eighteen yet.”

He tints the statement with something heavy that you can’t quite decipher, but you don’t bother fretting over it. “I’m not. I’m just here because—” you stop, “—only because Jiwoo wanted me to find someone.”

The corners of his lips pull inwards and he whistles, low and amused. “Love life is that bad, huh?”

Scowling, you say, “Shut the fuck up. I doubt your love life is as exciting.”

Vernon looks far from offended. “You’ve got me there, Kwon.” Somehow, you hate that he calls you by your last name even more. Maybe he should just never address you. “Anyway, we should probably start this meeting, yeah? I’ve got to meet with two clients in an hour,” he sends you a wink, “They’re very happy together, actually. Did Winn ever tell you I’m the best in the game?”

You’re tempted to reach into your pocket and call Jiwoo, repeat to her that you won’t go through with this Soulmate Service thing, but you won’t. For some reason, you think doing so will only amuse Vernon more and you’ll lose to him.

You’re aware that this isn’t a game and willingly hanging out with Vernon goes against everything you stand for. But doing this means wiping that stupid grin off his face, and that’s more than enough for you.

“Unless you forgot, you’re supposed to be setting me up with people,” you drawl. “So what’s your game plan, Chwe?”

His grin widens.

Thursday, July 1 16:05 p.m.

Maybe: Vernon: hi is this yn?

you: you’re ruining my afternoon

moron: oh it is!!! moron: thought you gave me the wrong number or something ):

you: well the idea to was very tempting

moron: … ouch

Thursday, July 1 23:11 p.m.

you: by the way are you ever gonna tell me what your plan is you: because you only just smiled at me and said you had to go

moron: is this your way of saying you liked my presence?

you: no what the hell

moron: relax i’m just kidding 🙄 moron: but you don’t need to worry! i’ve got it handled ;)

you: yeah that doesn’t really calm me. just tell me what ur plan is

moron: are you always this desperate?

you: fuck you you: can you cooperate for once and do what i ask you

moron: tsk tsk always so controlling moron: better get some sleep, kwon! we’ve got an early morning tomorrow

you: what does that even mean you: helloooo??? you didn’t answer my question

you: vernon. you: asshole Read 23:44 p.m.

JULY 2.

Tucked under your bed, in a box of paraphernalia from past school years, are two worksheets, one from the end of seventh grade and the other from eighth. Your teacher, Ms Edwards, believed in growing from feedback, and scoured for it everywhere — whether it be from fellow colleagues or her students. At the end of the year, she would give her class a worksheet — decorated with the special border effects on Microsoft Word to indicate the sheet wasn’t for marks — and tell them to answer the questions.

Your answers were half-assed:

What was your favourite part of the year? I liked the science projects we did and when Ms Edwards let us go to recess early.

What are you looking forward to this summer? Sleeping in.

But they were sincere. The only reason you liked Ms Edwards so much was because she didn’t care for letting you leave before the bell. Plus you’re pretty sure all your classmates responded to the second question with the same answer, but it was true, wasn’t it? Who didn’t like sleeping in?

When you pull back your curtains and scowl at the familiar car parked in your driveway, you come to the conclusion that Vernon Chwe always has to ruin things — even your rhetorical questions.

You push the front door open, mumbling a goodbye to your mother and drag yourself towards the driveway. Vernon stands exactly like he always does — leaning against something, arms folded, conceited grin — you don’t know why you expected him to be any different than when you saw him last. He still carries himself in an annoyingly smug way.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he snickers when you stop in front of him. “Sleep well?”

He raises an eyebrow when you hiss, “It’s seven-thirty.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Then why, pray tell, did you wake me up?”

When Vernon shrugs, you swear your eye twitches. “Your socks don’t match, by the way.” He pushes himself off his car and moves to open the door. “We need to get started.”

You make no move to walk to the passenger side, even when he juts his chin towards it. “You’re setting me up with people already? At seven in the morning?”

“Not even close,” Vernon responds. He taps the roof of the car. “Now get in, we’ve got places to be.”

“Places to be—” you repeat incredulously, “I’m not getting into a car with you.”

Vernon tsks, putting himself in between the car and its door. “Yeah, of course. You don’t have to get in if you don’t want to. But,” he taps his chin, “I could call Jiwoo, ask her to convince you to deal with me — and you’ll do it, since Jiwoo’s always been persuasive. Like, scary persuasive.”

A threat lies in his sentence, like he’s trying to get something from you. Vernon enjoys getting reactions out of people — more specifically, you.

“How do you have Jiwoo’s number?”

Vernon furrows his eyebrows, the joy in his eyes growing at your confusion. “We’re neighbours,” he snorts. He doesn’t give you time to wonder if he’s lying or not, because he continues. “So, are you getting in or not?”

You scratch your cheek in frustration before scowling and walking around the car. “Yeah, I’m fucking getting in,” you say aggressively, throwing your hood over your head to cover your eyes. Hopefully, the crimson fabric will be enough to shield the egotistical smirk Vernon won’t hesitate to send you during the car ride.

Vernon waits for your seatbelt to click before he pulls out of the driveway. He doesn’t drive as fast as you thought he would — in fact, he’s pretty slow. Cars whir past, some of the passengers turning in their seats to get a glimpse of Vernon’s car. You swear you saw one of your old classmates spin and stick their tongue out at you.

Awkwardly, the tips of your fingers graze the controls of the radio. You pause, waiting for Vernon to comment about you touching stuff without permission, but when all he does is hum, you continue to fiddle with the radio. It takes you a while to figure out what button does what and, for a moment, you’re certain you accidentally turned the air-conditioning off. The thing is, though, is that you’re too prideful. You’ll be damned before you ask Vernon for help.

It’s bad enough he’s playing Cupid for you.

A love song filters through the speakers and with haste, you switch the station to something else.

Vernon takes a moment to let the melody register before he raises an eyebrow. “Country?”

You tug on your hood and push the conversation into a different direction before you have to argue about music. It’s too early for this. “So, not only do you wake me up early, tell me to get into your car without telling me our destination, but you also don’t tell me the plan to—”

“Helping you fall in love?”

“What—? No,” you sputter. “The plan to help me find somebody that I like and likes me back.”

“So basically,” Vernon starts slowly, “a plan to help you fall in love.”

Playing with your bottom lip, you opt to ask him another question that will, hopefully, get you an answer. “Where are we going?”

Vernon doesn’t miss a beat. “Walmart.”

You halt, staring ahead at the road ahead before dropping your hand. “Yeah, because Walmart is always filled to the brim with people desperate for love,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your tone. When Vernon doesn’t bark back with a retort of his own, you face him. “You’re joking, right?”

“We’re not going to Walmart to find the love of your life,” Vernon tries to clarify, but it does nothing to swat your confusion. “We’re going because I need to run some errands, and I think spending quality time together will be good for us.”

The bewildered scoff falls from your lips before he even finishes his sentence. “What, are you setting me up with yourself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vernon tuts. “For me to find the perfect person for you, I have to get to know you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you ask, “And how long are you going to be doing that?”

In more ways than one, Vernon is careful. He’s gentle when red flashes at the stop light and he slows the car to a stop. He’s cautious when he glances over at you. “A month, maybe.”

You gape at him. “You’re asking me to spend a month with you?”

“God, it’s not that bad,” he protests. “We’ve gone to school our whole lives, what’s one more month to you?”

“Well, back then I didn’t willingly talk to you,” you argue, turning in your seat as much as your seatbelt will allow, “I only talked to you because you would only fuck off if I did.”

“Okay, first of all, ouch,” he looks at you like your protests have taken a toll on his very fragile ego. “Second of all, would you rather have thirty-one bad blind dates or spend thirty-one days with me?”

Without a beat, you say, “Thirty-one bad blind dates.”

The light turns green and Vernon steps on the gas. “I’m not as bad as you make me seem,” he comments, casting a glance at you. “I don’t even know why you’re doing this Soulmate Service thing.”

“Winn didn’t tell you?”

“Winn didn’t tell me,” he confirms. “Not like he knew much, anyway — only that you’re heartbroken and sad and have no love life.” He pretends not to notice the embarrassment flushing your cheeks when he observes the road before making a left turn. “You know I was only joking when I said that your love life was abysmal, right? You surely had to have had something if you’re heartbroken.”

Pulling at the seatbelt so it stops digging into your skin, you respond, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t remember you being in a relationship, though.”

Curiosity clouds his vision, but if he thinks that you’re going to just spill everything your heart has been bottling up, then he’s wrong. “It’s complicated.”

Vernon scoffs amusedly as he pulls into the parking lot. “Of course it is.”

MY FINDINGS ON YN KWON:

ENTRY ONE: July 2.

Y/N’s definitely not a morning person. Not very willing when it comes to me getting to know them, but that’s not surprising at all (I’ll just have to work with that, I guess.)

Still unsure if they hate me or I just annoy them. Is that just the same thing?

Friday, July 2 14:57 p.m.

you: thanks for the gummy bears

moron: yeah no prob moron: but you know they place those things by the checkout just so the customer impulsively adds them to their cart, right?

you: duh you: but you can never say no to gummy bears you: besides i didn’t pay for it sooo

moron: ah so you’re EXPLOITING me

you: sure

moron: has anyone told you you’re a dry texter

you: only dry w/ you

moron: god you’re awful Read 15:15 p.m.

JULY 3.

“Wait, explain this to me again,” Jiwoo brings her face up to her camera, and all your screen displays are her big eyes and confused frown, “Vernon’s plan was to bring you to Walmart?”

You stop shuffling through your clothes and glance at her from your closet. “No, he was using it as a way to get to know me,” you explain lazily, “something about how it’ll help him with the whole thing.”

Jiwoo raises an eyebrow. “Is he setting you up with himself?”

“I said the same thing!” you exclaim. “No, apparently it’s better to know me and set me up with someone he knows I’ll like than to send me on fifty blind dates that’ll end horribly.”

“Right,” Jiwoo murmurs thoughtfully, pulling her face away from her phone and blinking rapidly to adjust to her surroundings, “and you’re fine with that?”

Taking a stranded hanger at the end of the rack, you throw it onto your bed so you can remember to put it away later. You miscalculate the strength of your toss and it lands on the carpet. “Well, I have to spend time with him either way. This will get rid of him faster.”

Jiwoo taps her lips. “And how long will he be, quote on quote, getting to know you?”

“Please don’t say it like that.”

Jiwoo smiles. “Say it like what?”

“Like that,” you reply, moving to grab your phone from its place against your lamp. You accidentally kick the hanger and it slides under the bed; you’ll forget about it until the day you finally decide to tackle the mess that lives under there — which probably won’t be happening anytime in the near future. “Like you’re implying something.”

Your best friend hums, entertained by the warning look on your face. “And what could I possibly be implying?”

The phone lands at your side when you let it slip from your grasp. “I’m not having this conversation.”

Jiwoo is left to stare at your ceiling and you make sure not to look at the FaceTime call in case she gives you a knowing look. “You still didn’t answer my question,” she says, voice muffled by your fuzzy blanket, “how long are you two hanging out for?”

“Not that long.”

“Okay, be a little more specific.”

You wince. “A month or so.”

“A month?” she shrieks.

“Or so!”

“That doesn’t even—” an exhale leaves Jiwoo’s mouth, incredulously amused. “Jesus Christ. You’re hanging out with Vernon Chwe. By choice.”

You pull at your cheeks and then squeeze them just so your fingers have something to do. “Can we please talk about something else?”

From the way Jiwoo agrees eagerly, you can tell she has something to tell you. “I talked to my aunt yesterday,” she says cheerfully. Now you grab your phone so you can see how the smile lights up her face. “She said she’s getting my room ready. Oh, and she was telling me about places she’ll show me when I get to Korea!”

Your eyes soften at the glow in her eyes. Everything about Jiwoo has always been luminescent. “You sound excited.”

“I am!” she nods, shuffling in her bed to find a comfortable spot. “And she introduced me to her neighbours — they have a girl, Jungeun, she’s a few years older, but she’s really nice!” Jiwoo places her hands on her cheeks. “You know it’s not too late for you to come with me.”

You play with your earlobe. “I know, Jiwoo, but it’s fine.” The offer is tempting — the idea of spending a year in South Korea, away from it all, holds a type of euphoria and adventure that could almost push you to give in. But wanderlust, no matter how hypnotizing it is, doesn’t flood your veins as much as it surges through Jiwoo’s or Seokmin’s or Soonyoung’s.

Home has always been here and you have a feeling you don’t have to search for it anywhere else.

Jiwoo pouts. “It’d be more fun with you there.”

“I bet,” you laugh, “but I think you’ll have an amazing time there, with or without me.”

“Yeah, but,” Jiwoo starts, biting her lip. She’s going to protest, you know she is — she always does when this topic is brought up, and the only way to get her to drop it is to take her mind off it. She looks at you, analyzing your face through her phone screen before she sighs and says, “we can hang out later, then?”

Your heart drops a little at her offer. “I would, but I’m supposed to meet Vernon soon and I don’t know when he’s supposed to come.”

“Ah, ditching me for a date,” Jiwoo says sarcastically, but her eyes overflow with mirth. “I see how it is.”

“It’s not a date!” you protest immediately. “And it’s already two and he isn’t here yet, so maybe he forgot.”

“So he stood you up.”

“Oh my God.”

As Jiwoo laughs, your mother peeks her head through your door, greeting Jiwoo with a cheerful hello before turning her attention to you. “The same boy from yesterday is here,” she says, head resting on the frame, “are you sure you want to be dating when your birthday is so soon?”

You gape as Jiwoo’s cackles fill the room. “We’re not dating,” you stammer. You look at your phone. “Jiwoo, I’m going.”

“Have fun on your date!” she taunts.

Your mom stares at you as you drop your phone onto your nightstand. She gives you a grin, the sort that’s big and all-knowing. “Are you sure—?”

“We’re not dating,” you repeat, standing abruptly from your bed and slipping past her in the doorway. “Please don’t tell Dad about this.”

“If he’s not your boyfriend, why do you care if your dad knows?”

“Because then he’ll tell Soonyoung,” you spit as if the name physically hurt you. Knowing your brother, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Seokmin, and just the thought has you shuddering. “And he has a big mouth.”

She looks as if she wants to add something else but bites her tongue. “I have to go to work, I’ll be back at ten. Your father is at your Aunt Gemma’s, he’ll probably get home around that time, too,” she reaches the stairs before you, despite you already standing at the banister. “Don’t burn the house while I’m gone.”

Once she reaches the floor, she waves to Vernon, whom you hear politely say goodbye. When she closes the door, you stare at it for what feels like an eternity before sighing and hurrying down the stairs. The faster you face this problem, the faster it will go away.

The problem grins at you the moment your foot hits the floor. He’s spread out the entire Harry Potter movie series onto the coffee table.

“Took you long enough!”

“Shut up,” the scowl only reserve for him appears on your face as you round the couch and sit beside him. “Better make this quick, Chwe. I’m meeting Jiwoo after this.”

Vernon shrugs. “You can invite her to come. We’re having a movie night, anyway, and this might go until ten.”

Eight hours with Vernon. You think you might actually combust — not in the good way, either. “Jiwoo’s busy,” you say, “and I don’t think she finds the idea of spending time with you very pleasant.”

“Have you ever thought that, maybe, people don’t hate me as much as you do?”

You kiss your teeth, pretending to ponder on the question before shaking your head. “No, I haven’t. I guess I always assume people despise you, but can you blame me?” you ask rhetorically. “Have you met yourself?”

“Yeah, I don’t like myself very much either.”

“Don’t agree with me.”

Vernon smiles, grabbing the DVD to the first Harry Potter movie and stands to fumble with the DVD player. “I can never win with you, can I?”

Instead of humouring more than you already have, you take the copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix that lies in front of you and examine the back. “You know there’s this thing called Netflix, right?” you scoff. “Why waste all this money on DVDs?”

He sits beside you after watching the DVD satisfyingly glide through the player. He plays with the TV remote until the screen flashes to life. He knows what he’s doing, and if you were any more sleep deprived than you already were, you would think this was his TV and not yours. It might as well be, though; you didn’t even know you had a DVD player.

“It feels more authentic watching the movie this way,” responds Vernon. “And having these—” he points to the scattered pile of movies, “—makes the experience better. It’s nice to have a physical copy of your favourite things on hand. Also, the entire series isn’t on Netflix.”

He fiddles with the remote once he hits play and the familiar theme song drifts into your ears. He makes an argument about the joys of watching behind the scene clips DVDs provide that streaming apps don’t. You almost argue and say that those types of things can be found on the internet easily with a simple YouTube search, but Vernon’s face display an emotion you didn’t even know he was capable of having.

Passion kisses his skin, taints his eyes, and even though you hate him, you’re not going to argue about something he’s so passionate about.

“I’ve also found that these movies are good when it comes to getting to know people,” Vernon starts slowly when you don’t reply to his ramblings. If you didn’t know any better, he’s a little flustered. “Whether or not a person likes Harry Potter says a lot about them.”

You lean back casually. “I don’t hate it.”

“I remember you had an embarrassingly long phase in middle school where you were in love with one of these characters,” Vernon sighs in a sarcastically wistful way. “Which one was it again? The one that died…”

“A lot of characters die in this series, Chwe.”

Vernon claps his hands together, as if an epiphany just came to him; as if he didn’t already know the answer. “Cedric Diggory! That was his name!”

“Oh, shut up,” you snap. “I can’t believe I’m spending eight hours with you.”

Vernon reaches over into the bag by his socked feet and pulls out a tattered pink journal. “Eight hours where I’ll be getting to know you and writing everything I find onto here!”

He flips through the pages and stops at one halfway through. Your jaw goes slack at the writing on the top.

“My Findings on Y/N Kwon?” you screech, ripping the journal from his gasp. “You’re making this sound like I’m some sort of science experiment!”

Immediately, Vernon goes to defend himself, “Well, I needed to sound professional!”

“It’s not like you’re gonna be analyzing me—”

“Technically—”

“You know what I mean!” you snarl. You grab a stranded pen your dad left lying out and about on the coffee table to scribble into the notebook.

“Hey!” Vernon protests moments before the ink touches the page. “You’re ruining it! I decorated the page and everything to make it look pretty — careful of the hearts!”

You ignore him, and instead messily write underneath the top line: What I Learned Today About Y/N Kwon. You’re not pleased with the title, but it’s the best you can come up with without getting distracted by the movie playing in front of you.

“This is better.”

“It’s worse,” Vernon grumbles, taking his notebook back. “It’s long and is at the very end of the scale for creativity.”

“It’s better.”

He looks at you, eyes narrowing for a split second before he scoffs and turns to face the TV again. For the first time since you’ve ever known him, Vernon Chwe doesn’t egg you on or spit out another comment meant to do nothing but jab harshly at your sanity. For the first time since you met him years ago in that sandbox in kindergarten, Vernon Chwe keeps his mouth shut.

You smile.

One point for Kwon.

MY FINDINGS OF YN KWON WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON:

ENTRY TWO: July 3

Still has the pyjamas they wore at Quinn Jenkin’s disaster of a slumber party in sixth grade. They still wear the pyjamas, too, despite that it barely reaches their ankles and there’s a big hole on the right knee.

Thinks McGonagall is better than Hagrid, which is completely wrong and incorrect and will not listen to a word of my argument.

Hopeless.

Saturday, July 3 23:38 p.m.

ji: are u sure you weren’t just on a date?

you: um yeah?? if i was you’d be the first to know you: why

ji: because it’s almost midnight and vernon just came home ji: and when i asked him where he was so late at night he said he was with u… 🤨

you: oh my god you: why would u ask him that you: why are you even out this late

ji: i was chasing a moth out of our house when i saw him ji: BUT THAT ISNT THE POINT!! what were you doing w/ him???

you: we just watched the harry potter movies!!!!!

ji: so?

you: SO definitely not a date. do you know how unromantic those movies are? so much death and sadness

ji: the more you keep on denying it’s a date the more i don’t believe you

you: icb you please leave me alone.

ji: denial isn’t healthy btw Delivered

Saturday, July 3 23:47 p.m.

moron: goodnight, kwon

you: eat ass Read 23:47 p.m.

JULY 4.

When it comes to your family, gatherings never turn out to be as small as they intend it to be. Take the Fourth of July barbecue for example: your dad invites Aunt Gemma, and her nightmare of a daughter invites her next-door neighbours who then invite their book club, who just so happens to involve Jiwoo’s family, so Jiwoo invites Lee Chan because the Lees own the donut shop by Target and she wants discounts.

“I think they spiked the punch,” Chan says. The barbecue takes place at the park by your house, which makes Chan feel slightly less guilty for dumping the contents of his cup onto the grass. “It tastes worse than usual.”

Jiwoo pouts. “Hey, I made that!”

Chan drops his cup into the nearest trash can and sits on the wooden bench, his back leaning against the table behind him. He ignores the exhilarating sensation of the burning wood against his skin and shrugs, “It was bad, Jiwoo.”

You half-heartedly attempt to kick his foot with yours, but miss and hit the grass instead. “Give her a break, Chan.”

The minimum amount of shade the tree branches provide is not enough to cover all three of you. Parts of the sun’s rays manage to slip past the gaps between the leaves. One particular ray bursts at your back, and you feel the unwelcome heat trickling up your spine. Jiwoo seems unbothered by the sun and instead takes a sip of her punch to prove to Chan that it isn’t as bad as he claims it is. Your lips tug at the straw of your juice box because her punch is bad, but you're far from strong enough to break that to her.

“Who did you invite?” Jiwoo asks when it becomes clear nothing will change Chan’s mind.

“Just a few friends,” he replies, eyes flitting behind you and Jiwoo in search for them. “Um, Seungkwan from the drama club—”

“Oh, I think he used to sit behind me in AP Chem!” you point your finger at Chan and drop it when he nods in confirmation. “He seemed nice but he never stopped talking about Glee.”

“One of his many flaws,” Chan affirms.

Despite the fact that you and Seungkwan have spoken on multiple occasions, both at school and outside of it, the two of you were never close enough to consider each other friends. Granted, it could be because there was an unspoken agreement between you that you wouldn’t acknowledge each other at school unless speaking was mandatory, or eye contact was made while you guys were walking down the hallway and it was rude to not send a tame smile. Seungkwan always pictured himself to be the main character, but in your life, he was nothing more than an extra.

Until functions like these came along. There’s a magic to gatherings that you can’t quite describe — it pulls people together. In fact, the last time you actually had a conversation with Chan that wasn’t started because of academics was at his parents’ New Year’s party. You haven’t spoken to him in months and now the two of you talk as if you’re old friends.

“And who did Seungkwan invite?” Jiwoo wonders.

“Well, some of his friends,” Chan answers, “which he has a lot of. A few have already gone off to do God knows what, but the rest stayed behind and he brought them along.”

You try to think of who Seungkwan associates himself with but fall flat when the only people you can remember have already upped and left. In hopes to find a familiar face that will jog your memory, you glance over your shoulder, only to be met with an overbearing grin that makes you want to crawl into a hole.

Maybe you and Seungkwan were never friends because you never bothered to care for each other, but because his best friend is the bane of your existence.

“Hey, Chan!” Vernon greets with bothersome cheerfulness. He throws an arm over your shoulders which you immediately shrug off, causing Chan’s eyebrows to rise and Jiwoo’s smile to widen. “Didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Chan eyes Vernon’s arm and then your irritated sneer before smiling. “Jiwoo invited me.”

Vernon peers over and grins at Jiwoo. “Oh, I didn’t see you!” he says loudly. “Hey, Ji — oh, Seungkwan’s here too.”

Seungkwan, hair freshly dyed blonde, looks concerned with Vernon’s sudden enthusiasm. “Right, hi,” he timidly says, nodding at you, Chan, and Jiwoo. “Hope you don’t mind we brought along a couple of other people.”

“That’s fine! The more the merrier,” you then turn bitterly to look at Vernon. “Shouldn’t have brought him, though.”

Seungkwan dismisses your sourness with a shake of his head. “I forgot you two hated each other.”

Jiwoo places her cup on the table after she takes a seat beside Chan. “Hate’s a very dangerous word to throw around,” she warbles, eyes glinting before she opens her mouth again to throw you under the bus, “they went on a date yesterday.”

Chan rips his back away from the table and sits up straight. “What the fuck?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Jiwoo!”

Beside you, Vernon’s smile drops, his eyes narrowing in Jiwoo’s direction before he yelps when Seungkwan smacks his arm. “So that’s why you ditched me last night!” he gasps, feigning hurt. “Dude, I was counting on you to help me endure family game night and you ditched me for a date?”

Vernon rubs at the red spot on his arm. “We weren’t on a date!”

If looks could kill, Jiwoo would be in a lot of trouble right now. “I can’t believe this,” you mutter. “Jiwoo, I swear to God. We talked about this.”

The boy beside you gasps softly. “Aw, you talk about me?”

Exasperatedly, you close your eyes. “Please shut the fuck up.”

Chan and Seungkwan share a look before the former points towards the portable table by the playground structure and gives you a dangerous smile. “Y/N, could you get me a drink? And not any of that god awful punch—”

“Fuck you, Chan!”

“Shut up, Jiwoo, I’m asking Y/N for—”

You deadpan, “I’m not getting you a drink. Get it yourself.”

“Oh, get me one, too!” Seungkwan says hurriedly as he takes the other spot next to Chan. “But don’t get me that nasty, cheap stuff.”

“Cheap stuff—” you scoff, pointing your thumb in the direction of the table, “—we got all of that from Dollar Tree.”

That response is all Seungkwan needs. “Vernon knows what I like,” he hums slyly. “He can accompany you while you get Chan—”

You already know which direction Seungkwan’s trying to shove this conversation towards. “Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself,” Chan grins wickedly. “We can just sit here and talk about your date.”

Vernon doesn’t seem at all bothered by the teasing. You two have become the targets of the gathering and yet he doesn’t bat an eye. Instead, his attention lands on you — as per usual — doing a horrible job at keeping your annoyance at bay. You always lose control when it comes to him.

Sneering, you say, “What juice box do you want, Seungkwan?”

The boy in question leans towards Chan and lifts his chin to see the table better. “No offence, Y/N,” he tuts, “but I don’t trust you to get me a drink without poisoning it.”

“You’re saying you trust Vernon more than me?” You really shouldn’t have been expecting anything else. After all, Seungkwan and Vernon have been attached at the hip since kindergarten.

“Well,” Seungkwan eyes you strangely, “yeah, I do.”

Beside you, Vernon tucks his hands into his pockets. “What makes you think I won’t poison you?”

The threat, anything but harmful, causes Seungkwan to wave his hand dismissively. “You won’t,” he says confidently. “And if you did, I’d kill you.”

Vernon shrugs. “Alright.” Then he offers his hand for you to take. “Let’s go.”

Glowering at the hand, you spin on your heels and stalk towards the table of cold refreshments. Vernon closes his fist and lets it fall to his side before he quickly catches up with you, the freshly mowed grass tickling his skin. He watches his surroundings — from the kids half his size chasing each other around the park, to your aunts gossiping under the shade of the birch tree. It takes him thirty seconds to think of something to say, which might just be a new record.

Thirty seconds of silence. Thirty seconds of you lingering in Vernon Chwe’s presence without him opening his mouth and ruining everything.

If only he could always be so quiet.

“I never noticed Gemma’s hair was red,” he comments casually.

“It’s not her natural hair colour,” you explain, although a part of you knows you don’t have to. “She dyed it last week. It used to be this weird shade of brown.”

“I figured,” Vernon scratches his cheek. “But at the New Year’s party it looked exceptionally weirder. The lighting in Chan’s house is shit.”

You’re about to agree but then you frown and slow your steps. “Wait,” you say, causing Vernon to halt as well, “you were at Chan’s New Year’s party?”

“Yeah? Do you not remember? I was in the kitchen and you walked in looking for a glass of water before you saw me and immediately left,” he stares pointedly at your tattered white Converse. “Have you noticed that when you want to quickly leave a situation, you walk away with your heels off the ground. You kinda walk like you’re tip-toeing.”

Vernon Chwe, ever the observer. At the sudden observational comment, you lift your feet up and gently shake them before walking again.

Now that you think about it, you do recall seeing Vernon at the New Year’s party, but every time you see him outside of school, you make an extra effort to dodge any sort of contact. Unlike instances with Seungkwan, you and Vernon don’t chit chat.

“Not surprised you don’t remember,” Vernon clicks his tongue. You don’t bother to correct him. “After you saw me you clung to your friends and your brother. You do that a lot at functions like these.”

The statement hangs in the air, but that’s not what you’re focussed on. Vernon’s attended more than enough of these get-togethers to know what you do at all of them, and yet you don’t remember seeing him at any — minus the one at New Year’s, but you wouldn’t have realized if he hadn’t told you.

When you don’t reply for the second time, Vernon speaks up again, and that’s what snaps you out of your thoughts. “Are Seokmin and Soonyoung not here?”

You stop in your tracks again at the mention of Seokmin, but Vernon pays no mind since you’ve both reached the refreshments. As he starts digging through the cooler in search for something for himself, you say, “No, they left a few days ago. They got into college and wanted to familiarize themselves with the environment there ahead of time.”

Vernon takes one of the only Pepsi cans left. “They wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, huh?”

You want to agree with him because it’s true. Soonyoung and Seokmin spent their gap year at home because it was what they were familiar with — and they didn’t want to dig into their college funds for money to use for travelling — but eventually they agreed they were meant for bigger things, and they weren’t going to find it here.

However, agreeing means coming to terms with the fact that you aren’t enough for Seokmin stay. It’s a selfish thought. You know that leaving is easier said than done, and it pains him being far away from you because he’s known you his entire life and he loves you. Not in the way that you want him to, but he does.

He hurts, too.

In the end, you decide to talk about Vernon instead. “Well, do you want to get out of here?”

His answer doesn’t surprise you. “Yeah,” he says, wiping his hands, wet from melted ice, onto his shorts. “Far away from here. Seungkwan has a friend who lives in New York and we’re going to stay with them for a year.”

“And you’re not coming back?”

“Never.”

You smile as you grab a grape juice box for Chan. “Then that’s just great! I’ll finally able to get rid of you.”

Vernon’s lips part. “What, are you saying you want to stay here?”

“I want to travel, yeah, but I like it here,” you answer. “There’s so much in this town, you know? So much to do.” Your eyes flicker to the other end of the park and your smile softens. “There are these houses a couple of minutes from here — they’re broken beyond repair, but I think I could fix them if I tried hard enough. And I could fix the playground at our old middle school so kids won’t have to worry about scratching their limbs on busted parts.”

“Ah, so you want to be like those people on HGTV,” Vernon murmurs teasingly despite the admiration flooding his irises. “Like the Property Brothers.”

You roll your eyes at the remark. “Sure,” you say. Vernon is sure that today is the first day since kindergarten that you haven’t replied to his statements with a snark. His fingers dance on the soda can. He thinks he likes your conversations better this way.

Jiwoo’s arm slings over your shoulder and she shoves her phone into your face, startling both you and Vernon. “Hey, guess who it is!” she exclaims, her hand unable to stay still. “Guess, guess, guess.”

From the way your eyes light up, Vernon comes to the conclusion that you know who it is. “Oh, hey!” you exclaim, fondness melting your voice. Suddenly, your eyebrows furrow. “What are you doing?”

“Flipping a pancake,” the voice on the phone says. “I think I’ve got it. Watch—”

First comes the sound of failure, then Jiwoo winces. “You definitely don’t have it.”

“Okay, one: fuck you. Two: I’m trying.”

“You’ll become a master at it in no time,” you laugh. “Probably not in the near future, though.”

“Whatever,” the voice grumbles. “How’s the party over there?”

“Mediocre,” you reply, taking Jiwoo’s phone from her hands. When the device is pulled from her grasp, she looks up and finally notices that Vernon’s there. “How’s Soonyoung?”

The person on the other end makes a noise that sounds like a meh. “He’s alright. A little homesick, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. How are you? Anything new and exciting happening to you over there?”

Before you can answer, Jiwoo leans into you so her face is in the camera. “Oh, you won’t believe it. Y/N’s dating someone!” She ignores your protests and takes her phone back. She’s quick; Vernon doesn’t notice she’s beside him until she places her hand on his shoulder. “Seokmin, this is Vernon!”

Seokmin grins. “Hey, I remember you!” he exclaims. “Wait, don’t they hate each other?”

“Well you know what they say about hate and love—”

“Shut up,” you glower, prying Jiwoo off Vernon before he can properly introduce himself. “We’re not dating, he’s just—” you pause, “—he’s just helping me.”

Seokmin snorts. “With what?”

You open your mouth and Vernon’s sure you have an answer already formulated in your mind when people ask this question. He knows you’ll mention being set up with someone, a summer fling of sorts. Maybe you’ll throw in something about the Soulmate Service, too, but you never mention that you’re heartbroken.

But you don’t say any of those things. Instead, you give Seokmin a smile of hope and heartbreak. “Nothing important.”

The pieces click into Vernon’s head like a puzzle while you give all your attention to Seokmin, listening to him ramble about the new people he’s met and the karaoke bar close to campus.

You always use a different tone when you talk to Vernon. With him it’s always irritated scoffs and annoyed sneers, clenched fists and gritted teeth. He has never bothered to notice how you talk to other people because he used to assume that you talked to them all the same and reserved something else for him.

But there’s something hidden in the layers of your eyes when you talk to Seokmin. No matter how much you try to hide it, Vernon can see the affection and the adoration and the love.

When you finally look up, something flashes in Vernon’s gaze. The bottom half of his face is hidden as he brings the Pepsi up to his lips, but you know that his mouth curls.

He knows.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON:

ENTRY THREE: July 4

Ironic how they’ve always wanted to stay and the person they’re in love with has always wanted to go.

Sunday, July 4 20:58 p.m.

moron: thnx for inviting me

you: technically i didn’t invite you. we invited aunt gemma you: and somehow, in the web of party invitations, you happened to get one too

moron: yada yada yada you know what i mean moron: at least you didn’t kick me out

you: we were at a park. i couldn’t have kicked you out even if i wanted to you: and trust me, i wanted to

moron: you’re always saying stuff like that but you know what? i think you’re growing fond of me

you: don’t flatter yourself

moron: still in the denial phase. i see, i see moron: you’ll admit it soon enough Read 21:14 p.m.

Monday, July 5 12:09 p.m.

moron: someone definitely spiked the punch last night

you: you drank the punch?

moron: only towards the end of the night moron: my head’s killing me

moron: i don’t think i can hang out today

you: so i get a day off???

moron: don’t sound too excited moron: give me a fact about yourself tho so i can put it in my notebook

you: no thanks

moron: oh come on moron: please?

you: you know me well enough that ‘please’ isn’t gonna work on me you: just make something up

moron: i don’t have the mental capacity to think

you: not my problem you: get better soon though

moron: is this you being nice to me?

you: don’t get used to it Read 12:24 p.m.

JULY 6.

You are not worried about Vernon Chwe. That’s ridiculous. You’re only standing on his doorstep with a bag of his favourite 7/11 snacks because your mom overheard Jiwoo telling you over FaceTime that he’s sick, and she sent you to his house to make sure he feels better.

“What are you doing here?” Vernon asks, blinking at you when he opens the door.

“Heard you weren’t feeling well,” you respond curtly. When his eyebrows rise significantly, you shove the bag full of sour gummy worms and flamin’ hot Cheetos into his chest. “I wasn’t worried about you.”

He licks his teeth. “You’re here because I’m sick,” he states, letting the plastic bag dangle from his fingers. “I would say that means you were pretty worried.”

You purse your lips. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait,” Vernon starts with a tone so nonchalant that it shouldn’t make you stop and listen to what he has to say. But you do, and he seems to have known you would because all you see when you turn to him is satisfaction. “Do you not want to come in?”

“No.”

“I don’t have cooties, Kwon.”

“Yeah, but you have germs,” you glower, “and I don’t want to get sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Vernon says honestly. “My head just hurts because of Jiwoo’s punch. Something wasn’t right with that drink — Chan texted me yesterday and told me the same thing.”

“Yeah, Jiwoo’s not very good when it comes to making things edible...” you muse. Vernon nods in agreement before he steps off to the side, waiting for you to walk in. Really, you could just shake your head and begin your trek home, but the bus stop is far and your legs are tired. You’re being offered rest, and who are you to turn it down?

You kick off your shoes and victory grazes Vernon’s lips as he lets out a triumphant sigh. After he closes the door, he leads you into the kitchen and drops the plastic bag onto the counter. As he rummages through the cheap snacks you’ve bought, your eyes stray from the pack of gummy worms he drops onto the granite and onto the fridge behind him, childhood photos and crayon drawings gripping onto bright magnets.

There’s a picture of your second grade class all wearing identical medals around their necks, smiling victoriously at the camera. You vaguely remember the day — to officially put an end to second grade and welcome you into third, your class had a soccer game; the winning team would get popsicles, but due to Seungkwan bursting into tears after his team lost, everyone ended up getting popsicles anyway.

“Do you want some ice cream?” Vernon stares at you, the bag now empty, looking as if the slightest of movements will make it fly away. “We’ve got a tub of vanilla and some crushed cones. You could sprinkle them on top.”

You drum your fingers on the countertop, contemplating, before nodding hesitantly. At your agreement, he gives you a bright smile before turning to rake through the fridge. He looks different like this — dressed in striped blue pyjamas with tired but glossy eyes begging to push the loose strands of hair away. Perhaps it’s the headache from Jiwoo’s punch, the liquid blending into his bloodstream, that makes him look like this — softer and approachable; better than he usually is on typical days.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Vernon deadpans, tossing an ice cream scooper from his left hand to his right. “You look as if you might fall in love with me.”

And just like that, the bubble is broken.

You scowl. “No way in hell.”

Vernon peels the lid off the ice cream tub, and for the second time this week, he says, “I’m not as bad as you think.”

He gives you a look glazed with an emotion your heart begs you to figure out. But your head instructs you to do otherwise, and after the handful of pain your heart has forced you to go through, you decide to trust your head more.

“No,” you proclaim, gracefully taking the cup Vernon hands you, “you definitely are.”

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON:

ENTRY FIVE: July 6

Has never liked ice cream cones much. Says they don’t like it when the ice cream melts and uncomfortably clings to their fingers.

Gets this pretty look in their eyes when they’re lost in thought.

Tuesday, July 6 18:06 p.m.

moron: i never thanked you for the gummy worms and cheetos moron: so thank you

you: yeah it’s no problem you: but this is a one time thing. i won’t be opening my wallet for you anytime soon

moron: you have a very weird way of showing me you care about me

you: when are you going to get it through ur thick skull that i don’t actually like you

moron: truthfully?

you: obviously

moron: probably never Read 18:29 p.m.

Wednesday, July 7 09:33 a.m.

moron: WAKE UP

you: what the fuck you: WHY ARE YOU IN THE DRIVEWAY

moron: i’m feeling better!

you: what did i tell you about waking me up

moron: okay 1.) it’s not even that early

you: it’s 9:30

moron: and TWO: we didn’t see each other on the fifth so it’s only fair if we make up for lost time

you: i can’t believe this

moron: we’re going shopping

you: … you: hold on let me shower first

moron: ok moron: wait are you just going to make me wait outside

you: i’m showering please don’t speak to me

moron: ??? moron: I CAN SEE U FLIPPING ME OFF IN THE WINDOW moron: have you ever thought that maybe you’re worse than i am Read 09:49 a.m.

Thursday, July 8 07:08 a.m.

moron: hey

you: WHAT THE HELL

moron: you know the drill!

you: IT’S SEVEN you: please turn your loud radio player off i’m about to have a headache

moron: not until you get downstairs

you: please you’re making me hate uptown funk

moron: well yes that’s one of my goals moron: uptown funk aged like milk

you: this is one of the reasons why i don’t like you

moron: ????!!? Read 07:35 a.m.

Friday, July 9 16:04 p.m.

you: today was awful

moron: actually i thought it was pretty fun

you: washing other people’s cars was not fun

moron: quit lying

you: i’m not

moron: i know you were having fun you were smiling whenever i splashed you with water moron: your smile is pretty by the way

you: . thanks

moron: are you not gonna compliment mine?

you: your smile is okay

moron: WHOA HOLD ON moron: DID U ACTUALLY JUST ? moron: ????

you: you asked me to compliment you and i did

moron: I DIDN’T ACTUALLY THINK YOU WOULD??? moron: OH MY GOD!!!!! Read 16:37 p.m.

JULY 10.

Something has shifted. The stars have realigned themselves and the earth is trembling because something has rocked your world and put things out of place.

Out of place meaning that you’ve grown into the habit of waking up before eight because you know a certain someone’s going to park in your driveway and wake you up with a popular overplayed song from 2016. And shockingly, you don’t mind waking up this early, because you have a whole day ahead of you. A day where you can make new memories and learn new things and admire the relieving feeling of the sun hiding behind a cloud. Or you can rip it to shreds.

Out of place meaning that whenever your phone buzzes with a new notification from Seokmin, the ache has subsided. It’s still there — making itself known as some sort of sick reminder — but it isn’t as violent it used to be. You feel a little less empty.

Out of place meaning that Vernon Chwe was probably right about him not being an entirely awful person. That doesn’t mean his flaws still aren’t painfully transparent. He chews with his mouth open and drives ridiculously slowly and he prefers the purple gummy bears over the red ones, but he isn’t half-bad at making oatmeal cookies and he smells nice; like coconut and strawberries.

You wouldn’t say you like him, per se — years of hatred isn’t going to be swept away by a week of spending quality time. You’re just saying that, maybe, the idea of him you’ve created in your head isn’t the real Vernon you’re sitting in front of right now.

“It isn’t as burnt as the first batch,” he winces, dropping a tray of inedible brownies onto the cooling rack. You snicker, amused at his fifth attempt to prove oatmeal cookies aren’t the only things he can bake. He looks up at you, pouting, before asking, “Try again?”

Apron sprinkled with flour, you nod and hop off the stool to start making more batter while Vernon walks to the trashcan to dump the brownies. When he meets you back at the counter, lazily taking the oven mitts off his hands, he grabs the cookbook and reads over the instructions for the umpteenth time before looking up.

And then you two start over.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON:

ENTRY NINE: July 10

Complains about how I’m a horrible baker but clearly isn’t very good at baking either.

Hoping to God Y/N becomes famous on HGTV because they are definitely not cut out for Food Network.

Monday, July 12 07:34 a.m.

moron: today i’ve decided we’re staying as far away from the kitchen as possible

you: smart idea

moron: and we’re going shopping instead moron: mostly because i was too lazy to think of anything to do last night and partly because seungkwan says there’s a party tmr

you: so we’re shopping for YOU

moron: well yes i figured you wouldn’t pass an opportunity at styling me moron: and also for you, if you want, bc apparently seungkwan also told chan and chan definitely told jiwoo so jiwoo’s definitely dragging you along

you: you’re right but you know what i’m hoping you’re wrong you: whose party is it anyway?

moron: i don’t know someone who went to a different school ig cause i’ve never heard of this person in my entire life moron: all i know is that they’re turning 18. so they’re throwing a rager while their parents are out of town

you: of course they are

moron: i’m abt to leave the house btw get ready

you: yeah yeah i’m already doing it

moron: also we’re making a lot of progress!

you: wdym

moron: this is the first imessage conversation we’ve had where you’ve said i was right AND said that an idea i had was smart

you: aw that’s true!

moron: … i feel like you’re gonna say something else

you: and FUCK you vernon chwe

moron: there it is Read 07:48 a.m.

JULY 13.

Vernon’s body stings — his arms, his legs, his heart. He’s been sitting beside Chan for a solid two hours because they managed to snag a free spot on the sofa, and seeing as the party’s guest list seems to be never-ending, they’ll never manage to find a place to sit if they abandon ship. Him and his friends have come up with a plan: two people sit on the couch while the other roams free and comes back in thirty minutes. But Seungkwan hasn’t been true to his word, the little shit.

A tingling sensation floods the veins in Vernon’s limbs. His heart is ablaze for one of two reasons. One: Before Seungkwan left, he handed Vernon a strange concoction that definitely had too much alcohol in it (or maybe he’s just a lightweight). Or two: his most recent client hasn’t shown up yet. That or you’re avoiding him — which you probably are.

He brings the red plastic cup to his mouth and lets the liquid burn his tongue. It does nothing to ease his chest.

Chan’s fingers do a dangerous dance on his phone, thumbs pressing the caps lock button before they type a long and displeased message. For good measure, Chan even adds the extra iMessage effects so Seungkwan knows how mad he is. Vernon, on the other hand, has accepted that sitting on a sofa at a stranger’s eighteenth birthday party might as well be what fate has planned for him tonight, although he doesn’t really believe in fate and his legs are begging him to stand up.

“Where is that little—” Chan begins grumbling under his breath, squinting at his bright screen. He goes on a mindless rant about how he needs a new phone because his current one won’t update to get dark mode, but upon hearing a loud call of his name, he snaps his head up.

Jiwoo has curled her hair for the night and adorns a bright pink shirt that she’s thrown an oversized white jacket over, which is definitely a bad idea. Never wear white to a party for a teenager who’s freshly turning 18. Vernon learned that the hard way.

“Hey!” Jiwoo exclaims loudly over the music. She sends Vernon a warm smile. “Why are you two sitting down?”

“Seungkwan’s a bitch,” Chan responds, as if that explains enough. Jiwoo seems to understand and nods. “Did you just get here?”

“Yeah, a few minutes ago,” she glances around the room to get a good look of the party-goers. “I was in the kitchen with Y/N before Wooyoung decided to drag them away. They’ve been talking for God knows how long — whenever you put those two together they never shut up.”

Vernon never recalled you being friends with Wooyoung. All he knew was that you two used to have yearbook together and that he’s handy with a camera. He frowns and shuffles uncomfortably in his seat.

He chugs his drink and lets the bitterness itch his throat before he stands up abruptly. Jiwoo blinks at him while Chan begins to scramble on the couch as if someone’s going to plant themselves beside him now that Vernon’s stood up.

“I’m gonna go get a new drink. Jiwoo, can you keep Chan company?”

“Actually, I promised someone I would—”

Vernon grins, stepping aside so he’s no longer within arms reach of Chan. “Thanks!”

“Wait—!”

Chan grabs Jiwoo’s wrists and drags her down beside him, beginning his spiel about why they need to occupy this couch until Seungkwan comes back. Vernon only gives her an apologetic smile before he weaves through the guests and the blood finally starts flowing into his legs.

It takes him a few wrong turns before he makes it to the kitchen. When he arrives, Wooyoung’s loudly talking to somebody else while you’ve seated yourself onto the kitchen island. Wooyoung’s too invested in his conversation that he doesn’t seem to notice that you’ve drifted off, staring at Vernon in the doorway.

You hop off the counter, apologizing to Wooyoung who only shakes his head in dismissal before slowly walking towards Vernon. When you’re close enough to grab his wrist and drag him out of the doorway, you do. A lazy smirk appears on your face upon spotting his necklace, and you greet him with a, “I didn’t actually think you would wear that.”

He unconsciously fiddles with the string around his neck. The beads are smooth against his fingers. “You bought it for me and told me to wear it.”

“Yeah, well, when have you ever listened to me?”

The corners of his lips quirk up as he presses his side against the wall. “I guess never,” he hums. He eyes you for a moment, pondering on what to say next before he decides to ask a question he already knows the answer to. “Did you just get here?”

“A few minutes ago,” you reply without any bite. “You?”

“Been here for two hours,” he sighs. “Me and Chan have been sitting on the couch because we were waiting for Seungkwan—”

“Oh! I saw him not too long ago. He went outside with a few of his other friends and some other people I don’t know. Heard them talking about beer pong.”

Vernon almost snickers at the memory of Seungkwan telling him over the phone that he’s going to practice beer pong to the point where he becomes unbeatable. Practice for frat parties, he had said.

The smallest of smiles appears on his face. “Of course he is.”

You stare at him for a few moments expecting something, but when Vernon doesn’t move a muscle, you raise an eyebrow. “Are you not going to join him?”

“Beer pong isn't really my thing.”

You take a sip of your drink. “Loser.” You smack your lips together, letting your taste buds get used to the fluid. Then, you confess, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

His head gently hits the wall. “What are you talking about? We saw each other yesterday.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know, I was just observing something. That should be part of your little journal entry thing: Y/N Kwon is observant.”

Vernon’s cheek barely grazes the wall when he shakes his head. “I’m definitely not putting that into my notebook. I’m not just going to let you make stuff up about yourself and put it in,” he scoffs. “You’re far from observant.”

“That is absolutely not true!” you clamour. “I’m so observant! Like, did you know that you always mouth the words to songs on the radio no matter how much you claim you dislike them. Oh, and you do this thing with your face when you get confused— I don’t know how to explain it, but—but— oh, and you fiddle with the collar of your shirt a lot.”

Vernon’s lips are tempted to go against his brain. He’s tempted to laugh at your demeanour and chuckle at your ramblings, but then he glances down at the cup in your hand — similar to the one he’s holding now — and he realizes with a sigh that alcohol is the reason why your words lack their usual venom. And to think you’ve finally gotten over your petty little grudge.

You scowl at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason. You just have an eyelash on your cheek.”

You use your free hand to harshly rub at the skin underneath your eyes before you blink up at him. “Better?”

He scans your face, looking for something that was never really there. “Better.”

There’s barely anything left in your cup but you still take another sip, attempting to get every drop down your throat. Then, out of the blue, you ask him without hesitation, “Do you believe in love, Vernon?”

It’s a heavy question, but it’s one he should already have the answer to. After all, doesn’t believing in love fall under his job description? Shouldn’t he, top matchmaker for your town’s Soulmate Service, believe in fluttering hearts and butterflies in the pits of his stomach? Shouldn’t he believe in it despite its ups and downs and heartbreaks? Shouldn’t he look past its flaws and put his faith in it although he’s never experienced it in the first place?

It’s a heavy question and he doesn’t have an answer.

“Do you?”

Answer a question with a question of his own. Classic move.

“Yes,” you say. “I think I do.”

“What does that mean — you think you do?”

“Well, I just— I don’t know,” you heave a sigh, lazily dangling the rim of the cup between your fingers. “Believing in that sort of thing is written into my DNA. Mom and Dad fell in love, so did their parents, and their parents… love works out for us. And, like, I’m sure Soonyoung will love his soulmate the moment he meets them, but— I don’t know.”

His hands fly up to the necklace again, moving his fingers from bead to bead and shuffling the accessory around his neck. “Do you think you’ll love your soulmate if you ever met them?”

You still, thinking it over for a moment before clearing your throat. You opt not to answer his question, which he supposes is fair. “Random question,” you announce, although Vernon’s sure this question is something you’ve been thinking about for a while. “If you’ve loved someone your entire life but they aren’t your soulmate, do you think you would be able to fall in love with someone else? Do you think you could do that? Even if you can’t imagine yourself feeling like that for another person?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “I think you could if you tried.”

The gears in your head turn to the point where you’ve zoned out, unaware that your eyes are glimmering as you stare at him. Vernon’s lips suddenly feel chapped and his throat feels dry. When he licks his lips, you blink rapidly and straighten your posture at the same time as him.

There’s something about this party that’s messing with both your heads, he’s sure of it.

You stare at him for another moment before lifting your cup and shaking it beside your face. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

He doesn’t see you again for the rest of the night.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON:

ENTRY TWELVE: July 13

Love is tricky. Maybe helping them get over Seokmin will be harder than I thought.

Wednesday, July 14 12:33 p.m.

moron: do you wanna have a day off today? so you can cure that hangover?

you: m not hungovre you: hungover

moron: ...yeah for sure

you: FUCK U i’m just tired you: please don’t bother me today

moron: okay i’ll just see you tmrw then ??

you: yeah yeah thank you thank you thank you you: do you need a fact or something to write in your notebook?

moron: oh? what’s this? you’re offering to help ME?? moron: 🚨🚨🚨 NEVER BEFORE SEEN!!!! 🚨🚨🚨

you: you’re a nuisance

moron: love you, kwon!!! Read 12:55 p.m.

JULY 15.

He’s toeing dangerous territory.

He should not be searching the attic in the late hours of the night, flipping through old photo albums stored in long-forgotten boxes. He should not wonder what went wrong with his parents when he knows what did. He should not be getting so caught up in what-ifs because his mother’s done it enough and he saw how it almost destroyed her.

Jealousy should not rush through him upon seeing happy couples on the streets. Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing that will rip him to shreds if he isn’t careful and he shouldn’t let such a gnarly thing tear him from limb to limb.

He shouldn’t be fretting over the meanings behind double texts and impish smiles. He shouldn’t lay in bed at night as the moonlight slips through the crack in his blinds and think about a question he can’t answer.

Do you believe in love?

Shivers run up his spine until he realizes it’s not shivers, but water.

Of course he just had to space out during a water fight.

“Eat shit, Chwe!” you howl with laughter before it’s replaced with a yelp when the cold water from Seungkwan’s gun hits your leg. He chases you down the street, screaming to avenge his fallen friend, all while Vernon stands hopelessly by his downright awful hiding place behind the bush. He watches you shriek as you try to shoot Seungkwan with water. He notes how the sun brings out the warmth in your eyes, and how your footing is incredible for somebody running backwards.

Do you believe in love?

He doesn’t have an answer, but maybe he’ll have one soon enough.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY Y/N KWON:

ENTRY FOURTEEN: July 15

Terrible at water gun fights. Definitely blinded Seungkwan with their horrendous aim. (Seungkwan forgave them, though. Who wouldn’t?)

JULY 16.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“The fair is open to everyone.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Chan nods slowly, his eyes narrowing at you and Vernon. The latter takes a bite of his donut. “But why are you guys here? No, actually— why are you guys here together?”

You scrunch your nose. “He invited me to come so I did.”

“He invited you to come—” Chan scoffs. “This is unbelievable. I thought Jiwoo was only joking when she said you two were dating! Oh my God. I have to text her right now, why would she even—?”

Vernon almost drops his donut when you push him out of the way to grab Chan’s wrist. “We’re not dating!” he shakes your hand off and goes behind the counter of the booth to look for his phone. “Chan, we’re not! We’re here as—” you blink, glancing at Vernon briefly while thinking of a word to describe your relationship, “—colleagues.”

Chan stops the search for his phone. “Colleagues?”

You hesitate. “Yes.”

The boy stares, mind reeling as he tries to come up with a response. “Yeah,” he clicks his tongue, “I don’t believe that at all.”

You huff and your shoulders droop slightly before taking out some change and giving it to Chan. “Fair enough. A bag of donuts, please.”

Chan takes the money then turns to put the fresh donuts into a bag. When he hands it to you, he plasters a fake smile and pushes you away. “Have a good day! Please leave so I don’t have to endure you and Vernon’s mushiness. I’m here to work, not third-wheel.”

“What the fuck?”

Vernon grabs your wrist and turns you so you’re facing the rides. You miss just how quickly Chan’s displeased smile turns into a scarily knowing smirk, and the short glare Vernon gives him before he turns to face you. “We’re here to enjoy the fair, not argue with Chan,” he chastises, “so where are we off to first?”

You shake your wrist out of his grasp. “I don’t know. Anywhere’s fine.”

His fingers twitch by his side before he runs a hand through his hair. “The spinning teacups it is, then.”

“What— no— are you crazy?” you stammer, staring at him disbelievingly. “The last time I went on those things I had nightmares for two weeks! Those things have come straight from hell, Chwe. No— we’re going on the ferris wheel.”

The disgusted look he gives you tells you a thing or two about his thoughts on what you just said. “Okay, first of all: the spinning teacups are legendary. Second of all,” his eyebrows bunch together when you open your mouth to protest, “the ferris wheel is the most boring ride here.”

You start walking towards the rows of game booths, watching kids and teenagers alike attempt to win only to fail. The games have always been rigged, anyway. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like you.”

Vernon groans, trailing after you like a kicked puppy. “Can you stop saying things like that? People are going to think you still hate me.”

“Good, because I do.” Chan must’ve laced his donut with something because Vernon’s sure you’re lying, which can’t be true because ever since kindergarten, you’ve been convinced he’s dead set on ruining your life. “And better that than people thinking we’re dating, right?”

“I don’t get why you’re so intent on denying that—”

“You’re not my boyfriend, Chwe,” you interject, rolling your eyes. “Of course I don’t want people thinking you are.”

Sarcastically, he comments, “Why are you so hellbent on hurting my feelings?” When you line up at the ring toss instead of answering, Vernon dusts the remaining cinnamon sugar onto his pants and says, “You know these things are rigged, right?”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter, digging into your pockets for change. “This is the only booth that gives you that giant elephant if you win, and Seokmin’s been wanting one since he was fifteen, but he has lousy aim, so...”

Vernon stiffens momentarily. You’ve gotten into the habit of casually mentioning Seokmin ever since the fourth — at first, it was just absentmindedly throwing his name into the conversation whenever high school was brought up, but then it gradually turned into pointing out his favourite ice cream place and what movie he would watch when he’s sad. At this point, Vernon’s sure you’re going backwards in terms of getting over him, and if this keeps happening, you’re never going to like the person Vernon sets you up with by the end of the month.

Which is quite sad, since Vernon spent all of last night trying to find people who would best suit you. What a waste of time.

You throw the first ring and miss. Then the second, then the third. The bored teenager behind the counter gives you an insincere smile before calling the next person to come up. When you meet Vernon’s eyes, you immediately scowl.

He grows defensive quickly. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“You were supposed to cheer me on!” you argue. You continue your trek around the carnival and he unknowingly lets you lead him towards the ferris wheel. “What’s going on with you, anyway? You’re always spacing out.”

“Just thinking.”

“What could possibly be happening in that hollow head of yours?”

He doesn’t seem too offended by your statement. Maybe it’s because your words are lacking in acidity, which you’ve noticed keeps on happening, no matter how much you try to worm just a touch of poison. “I was watching this movie earlier and it was just really sad, and it had me thinking if you just — I don’t know — believed in love?”

You take a bite of your donut. “Never took you to be the rom-com type of guy.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Once you’re sure there’s no more mini donuts in the brown paper bag, you drop it into the nearest trash can you pass by. “Of course I believe in love,” you scoff. “Why? Don’t tell me you don’t. I’m putting my trust in you to set me up with the perfect person and you’re telling me you don’t even believe in—”

“I do,” he says quickly. You won’t be able to tell if he’s lying because he isn’t sure if he is. “I do believe in it. I was just asking you a question. No need to get defensive.”

“You know, we aren’t close enough to be having these types of conversations,” you tut. “Next thing you know, you’re going to ask me if I believe in fate.”

“Well, do you?”

“Do you not?”

“I do,” he replies. You side-eye him skeptically. “Of course I do.”

He notes in his head that maybe you don’t remember the conversation you had with him at the party a few nights ago.

Upon noticing that the line to the ferris wheel is short, you tug on his sleeve and drag him there, ignoring the way his confused blubbering turns into childish whines. Both of you are sitting in one of the carts in no time, and when you let go of his arm, he finally shuts up.

“We could’ve gone to the teacups,” he mumbles under his breath, staring outside.

“We just ate donuts. There’s no way I’m gonna go on that ride with a full stomach,” you say drily. “Besides, once the ride starts you feel like you’re on top of the world. And you can see my house from here!” To prove your point, you jab your finger out the window once the ride starts moving.

Vernon narrows his eyes. “That’s definitely not your house.”

“Close enough,” you shrug. “It’s nice up here, don’t look so upset — look, the sun is setting!”

“How romantic.”

You glance at him with a disagreeing frown. The cart shakes whenever you stomp your feet on it excitedly and he’s sitting in a spot where he’s positive the sun’s glare is ruining his eyesight. When the ferris wheel stops, the both of you aren’t at the top, but instead underneath the cart that is. Vernon wonders if the people there are loving this ride as much as he’s hating it.

Ferris wheels are boring. They’re cliché and overrated and lack the excitement factor that he’s always searching for. It fails to give him the adrenaline he so desperately needs in his system because this ride is made for those who enjoy the outside view, whereas Vernon really couldn’t care less.

But there’s something about the way you point at the booths you passed by and the rides you have yet to go on. The smile on your face is something he’s seen from afar, but he’s never on the receiving end of. Up close, he realizes that there’s a faint dimple on your left cheek that only appears when your lips tug upwards, and when he looks away he can’t stop thinking about it.

The ferris wheel moves again. When you look at him, a smile still apparent, for a crestfallen moment he expects it to disappear. But it doesn’t fall, nor does it waver. Instead, it grows a little wider.

Vernon thinks he feels lighter.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON:

ENTRY FIFTEEN: July 16

Pretty at every hour of the day but especially prettier under the glow of the sunset.

Hates the spinning teacups. (SHAME!)

JULY 17.

Vernon will never understand why people love rain.

The humidity is appalling as it is, and when it’s mixed with rain, the outdoors grows a little more suffocating. The moisture in the air kills his insides and makes his head spin and he wonders why people enjoy running out their houses and splashing in puddles while the water soaks them head to toe. Sweat mixes with raindrops, mud sticks to the bottoms of shoes, and yet people love it.

A long time ago, Vernon noticed he associates weather with people. His mother is skies filled to the brim with dull, grey clouds and brief zephyr. Seungkwan is the days where the sun is too bright, the breeze is lacking, and the only comfort anybody can find is under the trees. Chan is days where the wind just won’t quit, and the gust of air is enough to send someone over the edge. His father is rain. It fits him — the stifling air and the raindrops falling from clouds filled with despair.

On a good day, his dad is a man who goes to work everyday with the comforting thought that he has the respect of his colleagues. He has pictures of the annual office Christmas parties sitting on his desk and pens he buys on periodic business trips are all kept in a mug he doesn’t remember receiving. He is, without a doubt, good at his job, and he loves the praise that comes along with it; the claps on his back and the invitations to personal parties outside of work. On a good day, he’s perfect.

On a bad day, he’s a man with a family.

A man with a wife he fell out of love with a long time ago and a son who draws superheroes on paper but his family on walls, because he wants to see them whenever he walks by.

Vernon feels a surge of anger at the thought of his dad. He glares at the clouds and he wonders why people love this weather because all it ever reminds him of is pain.

Then there’s a laugh. It’s melodic and loud until it’s interrupted by the raindrops landing in your eyes. You sputter, rubbing at your eyelids before shutting them and letting the rain hit your face. You two were supposed to enjoy a day at the park, but it started pouring out of nowhere, and when Vernon suggested to just go back to his house, you insisted on staying.

The rain tickles your face and sticks to the fabric of your clothing when you turn to him and laugh at his sour expression. You tell him, eyes lively, to stop looking so upset, and then you’re grabbing his hand and dragging him around the park, having no regard for the mud.

He wants to go back to his car. He’s going to ruin his shoes and he wants to leave because the rain reminds him of his father and he doesn’t want to be upset over somebody who abandoned him when he’s here with you.

But then you give him that smile again, the same one he saw yesterday at the fair, and he feels the words die in his throat.

“What’s going on with you?” you ask him, blinking to get rid of the water on your eyelashes.

He watches as confusion clouds your vision and then he shrugs. He doesn’t know.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON:

ENTRY SIXTEEN: July 17

There’s this thing about them, like they can brighten up something without meaning to. Like the flowers blooming in spring while it’s raining.

Sunday, July 18 10:09 a.m.

you: requesting for a day off today

moron: wtf why

you: something came up

moron: … am i allowed to ask what

you: oh yeah it’s nothing bad you: seokmin just asked if i could help him with something so

moron: seokmin?

you: yes lee seokmin you: my brother’s friend ????

moron: no yeah i know

you: ok lol u just sounded confused

moron: we’re texting

you: 🙄 U KNOW WHAT I MEAN. you: i’ll text you later tho or something. if i remember to

moron: yeah sounds good 👍

Sunday, July 18 22:47 p.m.

you: damn it’s been 12hrs you: me and seokmin’s call ended a while ago but i forgot to text you sorry you: is it gonna be an early morning tmr?

Sunday, July 18 23:04 p.m.

you: okayyy i’m assuming ur sleeping you: u didn’t even say goodnight!!! the lack of decency you have is appalling you: see u tmrw tho Delivered

JULY 22.

Contrary to the message you sent him on the eighteenth, you didn’t see Vernon the next day. Or the day after that. You’ve been Chwe-less for four days which, strangely, is an all-time record — even when he was still a nuisance, Vernon had unknowingly weaselled his way into your everyday life. And you figured that he was going to keep avoiding you, because the look on his face when you enter the Soulmate Service tells you he wasn’t planning on texting you anytime soon.

Jiwoo walks in before you do, holding a Tupperware with fried chicken to give to Winn, and you stand off to the side, watching her make conversation with other employees while she waits for him to come out from the back. Vernon does his best to stay busy, reorganizing pamphlets and dusting off the counter to avoid looking at you.

He’s never been good with confrontation.

He’s so caught up in making sure to avoid you that he doesn’t notice Jiwoo is standing right in front of him until she’s snapping her fingers.

Vernon’s careful not to hit the rack of magazines he just finished setting up. “Hey.”

“Hey!” Jiwoo says enthusiastically with a touch of skepticism. “I feel like I haven’t heard about you in forever.”

He frowns. “I saw you this morning.”

“No, yeah, I know,” she nods, briefly glancing over her shoulder to make sure you aren’t eavesdropping on their conversation. Vernon sees that you’re currently talking to Tessa, a red-haired girl around twenty-two, who’s also waiting for Winn. He’s been in the back for a while now, trying to figure out what to do about one of his flaky clients.

(“It’s so cliché,” Winn scoffed earlier while he was examining some papers, “this guy is, like, incapable of letting himself feel anything. Typical afraid-to-fall-in-love trope. It’s nauseating.”

Vernon had laughed, simply agreeing, although a pool of shame swam in his stomach.)

“I just meant,” Jiwoo adds, pursing her lips, “that Y/N hasn’t complained about you in so long. Which is weird, since you’ve always been a conversation topic — even more so now because you’re… you know.”

Vernon nods awkwardly. “Right.”

Jiwoo eyes him, clearly expecting more than his clipped response, but continues anyway, “I never properly thanked you for doing this — God, what would you even call this? — matchmaking thing?” she ponders over her choice of words before nodding. “I know Y/N complained a lot about the whole getting to know them thing — and I admit I thought it was a waste of time since their birthday is in a couple weeks — but I think this is good for them! And for you, too.”

Vernon, rooted to his spot, barely manages to say, “Sorry?”

“Well, you know what heartbreak does to a person,” Jiwoo explains. “Though Y/N will never admit they’re sad because of pride or whatever. I don’t know, I personally think it’s stubbornness—”

“No, I meant the other thing,” Vernon says quickly, his eyes flitting over to you, who has managed to slip away from Tessa’s less than riveting ramblings. “About their birthday?”

“Oh! Right!” the girl in front of him hums. “It’s on August second. Speaking of, I’m throwing a not-so-surprise surprise party that day, so you can drop by if you want! I’m sure Y/N would want you there.”

“Um, I don’t know—”

“Just come,” Jiwoo licks her lips. She knows he’s going to decline — for a reason she’s not entirely sure — but attempts to stop him from doing so. “They’ll want you there. They’ll say pretend your presence is needed for the whole get to know you plan you came up with, but I think it’s bec— oh! There’s Winn!” she moves to the side, nearly shoving Vernon on her way to the counter, quickening her pace to beat Tessa there. “I’ll talk to you later, Ver— move!”

You snicker as Jiwoo huffs at Tessa before you take a seat on one of the chairs.

Vernon fiddles with the sleeves of his sweater and contemplates the two options weighing down on him. He could stay where he is, avert his attention to the mess two kids had made by the entrance, or maybe to the greasy fingerprints staining the mirrors. He could forget everything Jiwoo just told him and be on his merry way back behind the counter and pretend thoughts of you don’t plague his mind like a virus.

Or he could talk to you while you wait for Jiwoo to finish arguing with one of the customers.

He decides to do the latter.

The moment he enters your line of sight, he thinks something flickers in your eyes. Or maybe there’s something wrong with the lights — he’s been bugging Winn to do something about that.

(He concludes that it’s the lights. False hope almost ruined his mother, he will not let that happen to him, too.)

“And to think I finally got rid of you,” you drawl.

Vernon smiles.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N:

ENTRY TWENTY-ONE: July 22

Birthday: August 2

JULY 23.

Seven A.M., Vernon sends you the first message since the eighteenth. Seven-thirty A.M., he pulls into your driveway to find you already waiting for him on the doorstep.

He rolls his window down and greets you with a smile. “You’re up early.”

“You told me you were coming,” you fire back, tugging at the hem of your sleeves. “Where are we even going?”

“Nowhere,” he responds, and then brings the window back up. The gaze he gives you is expecting, waiting for you to either enter the car or protest like you always do at this hour in the morning.

You surprise both him and yourself when you do the former, buckling in your seatbelt before kicking your feet up onto the dashboard. Beside you, Vernon stares, waiting for you to complain and leave the car or to pester him about where he’s taking you. When you do nothing except turn the radio on (you pick the country station to spite him), Vernon shifts the gear to reverse and backs out of the driveway.

You don’t say anything for the first few minutes of the ride, afraid that your voice will push him away. You tell yourself you’re worried because the future of your love life has unfortunately landed in the palms of Vernon’s hands, but you remember the feeling you got every time you woke up with your phone void of his usual chirpy good morning messages, and you realize there’s more to your worry than you’re letting yourself believe.

Terrified, your fingers twist the dial of the radio and bring the volume up.

“Are you not going to ask where we’re going?”

You don’t reply for a while, and Vernon assumes it’s either because you didn’t hear him — why did you have to make the volume so loud? — or because you’re ignoring him. After Dolly Parton’s voice is replaced with a commercial, you say, “I did when you got to my house. You decided to be a prick and say nowhere.”

He frowns. “Why are you calling me a prick?”

“Because you are,” you say simply. Your eyes wander to the trees outside. “You know there’s nothing on this side of town, right?”

“Yes,” he rolls his eyes. “Can you get your feet off my dashboard?”

You comply, only to slip your shoes off and bring your knees to your chest. You lose yourself in the surroundings, watching the outside turn into a blur of blue and green; the breeze from the air conditioning calms you while the silence that blankets you two does not.

You never asked Vernon why he fell off the face of the earth or why you never got an explanation about his sudden disappearance in the first place. No text, no hello, not even one of those obnoxious cat GIFs he always sends you in the middle of the night. The curiosity climbs up your throat like bile, and you think you might choke on the concern if you bottle it up.

“Where have you been these past four days?”

Vernon’s grip tightens on the steering wheel before he feigns a nonchalant shrug. “I just got busy,” he says. He glances at you, sees that you’re expecting more than his half-assed reply. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

They say curiosity killed the cat, but that wasn’t so bad, right?

“It’s whatever,” you mutter. “Not like I was worried or anything.” You were definitely worried.

Vernon only smiles, and after a few moments, he pulls into a gas station. “I’m gonna go fill up the tank, you can go inside and get some snacks.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt when he unbuckles his. “For what?”

“Well, typically, when someone gets hungry, they eat food.”

“Fuck you,” you say, not unkindly. “I still don’t know what you’re planning on making me do today, and I’d like to know.”

“We’re just driving around. To do that, though, we need a full tank,” Vernon replies simply. He shoves a ten dollar bill into your hand. “That should be enough to buy a few things — chop, chop, Kwon, we don’t have all day.”

You scowl at him as you open the door. “Don’t boss me around, Chwe.”

When you enter the store, lazily greeting the clerk behind the counter who only gives you a half-hearted hum in response, you make your way towards the first aisle you spot, which only happens to be the candy aisle. You try to refrain from getting too many things, opting to play eenie-meenie when you have trouble picking which candies to get and which ones to not.

Tucking a pack of sour straws against your side, you walk out of the candy aisle in case you lose any ounce of self-control you have left, and make your way towards the rack of chips on sale until you notice a display of shirts near the front counter. A mischievous smile appears on your lips, and you grab the closest shirt you see then drop your stuff in front of the clerk to pay.

The clerk, dressed in a tacky red polo shirt, has absolutely no right to give you a judgemental stare after they see the shirt. “Nice choice.”

You purse your lips. “It’s for my friend.”

“Ah,” the clerk nods understandingly, then juts their head to Vernon, who stands outside, whistling under his breath. “Best friends or just friends?”

Frowning, you ask, “What’s the difference?”

“Well,” the clerk starts, dropping your items into a bag, “surely you know. You just stiffened and you keep on glancing over at him as if he can hear this conversation.”

“I’m not!” you exclaim defensively.

“From your reaction I’m assuming it’s just friends,” they observe. “How would you like to pay today?”

You slam the ten dollar bill onto the counter and grab the bag from the clerk’s hands. “Keep the change. Have a nice day.” You huff, stomping out of the store and making your way towards the car, entering it without giving Vernon a nod of acknowledgement.

The boy raises an eyebrow at your demeanour. After what feels like hours — two minutes — he slips inside the car and dreadfully decides to ask what all the huffing and puffing is about. “What’s going on with you?”

“The worker is awful,” you pout your lips. “I’m gonna give this hellhole a bad review on Yelp.”

Vernon stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.” He hands you his palm, wriggling his fingers ardently. “Where’s the change?”

“I don’t have any.”

“How much stuff did you buy?”

“Just some sour straws and a family size bag of chips. And something else. Told the clerk to keep the change.”

“What the fuck?” Vernon’s jaw goes slack. “You don’t just do that! You just said that clerk was bad! And what if I needed that?”

You go digging through the bag and unfold the shirt. “I hope this makes up for it, though! Isn’t it cute?”

“Keep Calm and Love California?” Vernon reads the shirt then wrinkles his nose. “You wasted my money to buy yourself a shirt? A corny one, too — I thought they stopped putting Keep Calm on everything after 2016.”

“It isn’t for me, dumbass,” you shake your head, holding up the shirt next to his face. “It’s for you!”

Vernon pushes the fabric away from him. “What makes you think I would want that?”

“It’s funny,” you shrug, shoving the shirt back into the plastic bag. “And the blue brings out your eyes.”

If you notice his lips parting and the soft glance he throws your way, you don’t say anything about it. He doesn’t reply to you either, instead staring out the window to hide the blood rushing up to his cheeks.

Ripping the bag of sour straws open, you ask, “Where are we going for lunch?”

Vernon snaps out of his daze. “Uh, there’s a McDonald’s near here,” he answers, driving the car back onto the road. You don’t question how near it could possibly be, since there’s barely anything where the two of you are now. Just plain fields and the occasional cow sightings. “Don’t eat all of those sour straws.”

Chewing obnoxiously on the candy and ignoring his comment, you say, “Hey, I was thinking a few days ago about this whole thing.” You wait for him to reply, but he only nods for you to continue. “And since my birthday’s coming up soon — it’s on the second, you better get me something — maybe we should halt this matchmaking thing? Just in case I meet my soulmate on my birthday — which I doubt, but…”

Vernon clenches his jaw. “It could happen.” He tries to be assuring. “I’ve heard of people who met their soulmates on day one.”

“But the chances are slim,” you drum your fingers on your thigh. “You agree though, right? You’ll stop your whole waking me up early and all that note-taking in your notebook just until my birthday?”

“Definitely not,” he counters without a moment of hesitation. “But here’s what I’ll offer: I won’t set you up until after your birthday.”

“Fine,” you relent.

He gives you a brief smile. “Common ground.” He gestures to the pack of sour straws on your lap. “Gimme, I wanna have at least one before you eat them all.”

You roll your eyes but give him one nonetheless. When he takes a bite, the sugar is bitter — and so is his heart.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N:

ENTRY TWENTY-TWO: July 23

DO NOT TRUST WITH MY MONEY!!!

Saturday, July 25 23:06 p.m.

moron: new movie just came out on netflix moron: seungkwan told me it’s HORRIBLE!!! do you wanna watch???

you: … but seungkwan said it’s bad

moron: well YEAH but watching bad movies is so fun moron: it’s a real self-esteem booster, i’m telling you

you: are you implying i have horrible self-esteem?

moron: don’t we all?

you: got me there you: send me a netflix party invite ❤️

moron: ????

you: WRONG EMOJI

moron: aww you love me that’s so cute moron: but i have to tell you, kwon… i’m afraid i can’t return the feelings

you: i’m setting your car on fire as we speak

moron: please do not say stuff like that. it actually almost happened once and it was the most traumatic experience of my life. my car + fire hits very close to home, do not joke about that

you: [image attached] you: got the gasoline

moron: PELASE STAY AWYA FEOM MY CAR Read 23:34 p.m.

JULY 26.

On a day where the sun refuses to set but the breeze is just right, you find yourself sitting cross-legged across from Vernon Chwe at the playground that started it all. Except the sandbox is occupied by Jiwoo, Chan, and Seungkwan — the former of which doesn’t care about getting sand on her white shorts — and you and Vernon have situated yourselves at the top of the wooden playground structure.

Nostalgia hits you like a truck. You remember that you would always stand here, proclaiming yourself ruler of the world until the bell rang and you had to slide down the pole to run back to class. You remember falling every time you went on the monkey bars and the familiar burn you felt on your skin whenever you went down the slide. You remember the sandbox, littered with colourful pails and shovels, and the boy you helped because you thought he was lonely.

Vernon’s notebook lies beside him, and you suddenly realize that you don’t know as much as he knows about you. You know the simple things — like he loves mint chocolate ice cream and he’s more of a dog person than a cat one — but it feels like it isn’t enough. It feels as if he knows the veins underneath your skin, the beating of your heart, and the ivory of your bones, but all you know about him is his untamed hair and big smile. He’s spent so long observing you with the intent of getting to know you that he knows every detail you hide under the surface, and there’s a queasy feeling you get in your stomach when you realize that you can’t say the same.

And so begins the game of twenty questions.

“This is a very important question,” you announce, leaning forward. Vernon looks bored, wanting to move on from this game to another, but he has yet to make a protest. “On a first date, would you rather go to a gaming café or a dog one?”

“Dog one,” he answers simply. “My turn. Math or science?”

You frown. “That’s such an awful question.”

“I don’t even know why you’re insisting on playing this game,” he says. “What difference does it make if you know my favourite colour or not?”

Your back hits the wood. “Nothing,” you mumble, “but it’d be nice to know, right?”

He gives you a confused smile, indicating that he still doesn’t follow. It’s stupid that you’re playing twenty questions with a boy you’ve known since before you hit double-digits, but to you, Vernon has always been nothing more than a pain in the ass. Someone who created spitballs and launched it at your head when the teacher wasn’t looking, someone who always showed up to school with bruises from his skateboard and cuts on his arm. Someone who sat three seats to your left and two rows down from you in Mr Winston’s History class.

You remember your graduation ceremony, when you took your high school diploma and looked amongst the sea of faces in the crowd. You spotted Jiwoo, whooping and cheering, and Seokmin and Soonyoung were yelling to the point where you thought they would be kicked out. Your parents were taping the whole thing on camera, and you were sure the video would be uploaded onto Facebook by the time you got home.

But you only spotted Vernon after the ceremony at an after-party, not when you were onstage, looking for people who made your chest swell with pride — who are important to you — because just a few months ago, you didn’t care about Vernon Chwe.

But today, here, you do, and you wonder when all that changed.

You stretch your legs, feet hitting his. “Whatever. Math,” you say, answering his question. “My turn. Do you think, if you weren’t such an asshole in kindergarten, we would’ve been friends?”

“You mean if I didn’t take credit for the sandcastle?” he wonders, to which you nod your head. “Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe. It’s kind of hard to imagine us being friends. Still feels unreal that you’re looking at me right now and you don’t look like you’re about to rip my head off.”

“Careful there,” you hum. “If you keep saying stuff like that I might get the idea that you’re in love with me.”

“Shut up.” He flicks a pebble at you but ends up missing. “My turn! When did you start believing in love?”

“What the hell? Why are you asking me such a deep question?”

“Because you got mad at my other one!”

“Because it was terrible—”

“It was not!” he huffs and gently kicks the soles of your shoes. “Answer the question.”

You click your tongue and play with your bottom lip, pondering your answer. “Um, I guess ever since I was small? I’ve been surrounded by it my entire life, I was kind of forced to believe in it — well, not forced, but you get what I mean. But on top of that, I just thought the idea of soulmates was so fascinating, you know? Like, the universe just picks a person for you.”

“Right,” Vernon says softly. “But sometimes people don’t fall in love. Sometimes people don’t want to.”

“Well, yeah,” you mumble, “but I just thought the idea was cool and everything. You turn eighteen and the universe grants you its red string, and the other person tied to you is who you’re meant to be with — the perfect person.”

He tugs at his fingers. “Sometimes the perfect person isn’t the perfect person, Kwon.”

You pout. “Yes, I know, I’m just saying! Why do you keep saying stuff like that — you’re going to make me think you don’t believe in love.”

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

This causes you to straighten and sit upright. “What?”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “I just don’t believe the universe has picked the right person for me.”

“What makes you think that?”

There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. It’s gentle, anguished, and dull all at the same time.

“Just a feeling.”

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N:

ENTRY TWENTY-FIVE: July 26

(Too?) Passionate about the universe’s ability to tether them to a perfect individual. Might be so caught up in the ideology of a flawless specimen that they’ll meet their soulmate only to be disappointed.

JULY 28.

Vernon really would rather be doing anything else other than sitting on Jiwoo’s porch helping her plan a not-so-surprise surprise party, but here he is, notebook by his side, as the girl scrolls through Pinterest on her laptop. He’s not surprised to find out that she has a whole board made exclusively for occasions like these — what he is surprised about is that she says she needs his help.

“Should we back the cake ourselves or pay someone else to do it?” Jiwoo moves to stretch her legs. There’s red marks on her skin from the wood. “Maybe we could convince Chan to bake something — you think we could scam him into making it without paying him?”

“No,” Vernon replies. “We definitely wouldn’t be able to scam him. I’ll worry about that, though. What’s Y/N’s favourite cake?”

“Red velvet,” Jiwoo answers before going back to look at her laptop. “Okay, so we have the cake, the venue—”

“We have the venue already?”

“Yeah — have you not been paying attention at all?” Jiwoo scoffs with a shake of her head. “It’s at my aunt’s place just a few houses from here; she’s out of town.”

Vernon glances over his shoulder then nods. “That’s it then, right? I can go home now?” he moves to stand up but Jiwoo’s quick to grab his wrist. “Jiwoo, I have to meet Y/N in, like, ten minutes—”

“Just text them that you’ll be late,” Jiwoo suggests. “I just need your help with one more thing.”

Vernon huffs and moves to grab his phone, distracted enough for Jiwoo to shuffle in the corner of his eye without raising too much suspicion and grabbing his notebook. He vigorously types across the keypad as messages from you continue to come in, and he doesn’t notice Jiwoo’s flipping through his observations until he looks up the same moment she shoves the notebook in his chest.

“Ow—!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Vernon repeats, examining his phone to make sure his last text to you was sent. “What’s wrong with you— were you reading the notebook?”

“I needed birthday present ideas, Vernon,” Jiwoo replies, scooting back when he furrows his eyebrows. “I thought your notebook was gonna help because I assumed the facts you’d have in there was stuff like oh, they mentioned how they love this pretty necklace or they said that when they were younger they always wanted a Squishmallow, but the stuff you have in there is not helpful at all! Well, not helpful to me, maybe more for you—”

“Because it’s supposed to be for me,” Vernon squabbles. “Why would you even need this notebook anyway? They’re your best friend.”

Jiwoo rests her arms on her knees. “I wanted to get them something extra special,” she says. “I’ll worry about the present later, though. Vernon, you seriously have a problem.”

“What?”

“I was only joking about you and them falling in love but,” she pauses, gauging his reaction, “I guess I wasn’t that far off.”

Vernon’s eyes almost pop out of his skull. “What are you talking about?”

Jiwoo doesn’t answer his question. Instead, she says, “Aren’t you supposed to be finding them a summer fling?”

“I am.”

“Okay,” Jiwoo starts reluctantly, testing the waters to see if her next question will push him away. They’ve lived side-by-side for over ten years — she knows what scares him and what doesn’t. “Then why is the stuff you have written down telling me otherwise? Don’t tell me you’ve actually caught feelings.”

His stomach twists. “I haven’t.”

Jiwoo purses her lips and stares at him for a moment before her eyes travel down to his hands. “When’s your birthday again, Vernon?”

He doesn’t answer because she knows.

His phone dings and another notification from you appears on the screen. He glares at Jiwoo and stands up, grasping his notebook as if his life depends on it. As if all his secrets will spill from the pages if he so much as loosens his grip.

“I have to go,” he mutters begrudgingly. “I’ll see you later.”

He walks down the steps and starts the short journey back to his front door when Jiwoo calls for him. He stops, already halfway across Jiwoo’s front lawn, where cigarette butts litter the yellowing grass and weeds sprout up from beneath the ground.

Jiwoo’s voice echoes. “Just don’t get yourself hurt.”

The grip on his belongings tighten. Then he promises, “I won’t,” although he isn’t quite sure if he’ll be able to keep it.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N:

ENTRY TWENTY-FIVE: July 26

Their favourite cake is red velvet.

Tuesday, July 27 03:02 a.m.

moron: why are you sending me snaps

you: can’t sleep

moron: ah i see

you: yeah it’s awful 😒 you: how about you? can’t sleep as well?

moron: no i just binge-watched a ton of movies

you: …

moron: hey if you want we can facetime and i can talk with you until you fall asleep moron: i can sing you some lullabies… read you some bedtime stories… count sheep with you

you: ok no i don’t want you singing to me you: but we can facetime

moron: really ?????

you: yeah it’s not like i have anything better to do

moron: didn’t actually think you’d agree to that

you: ? why

moron: no reason moron: calling u rn Read 03:15 a.m.

JULY 31.

WELCOME HOME SEOKMIN AND SOONYOUNG!

Although you haphazardly threw this poster together and you didn’t bother to make sure all the letters fit (the last two letters of Soonyoung’s name are squished into the side. For your sake, you’re going to pretend it looks like it says Soonyoung, not Soonyou), you’re still proud of it. Glitter stains your fingers and glue has gotten onto your favourite pair of fuzzy pajama pants, but you still put a smile on your face when the familiar beat-down car pulls into the driveway.

The first thing Soonyoung does when his foot hits the concrete is stare at the lopsided g of his name. He doesn’t greet you with a hello because he briefly seems to have forgotten that you haven’t seen him in weeks, and instead greets you with an annoyed: “Why is Seokmin’s name first?”

You almost drop the poster. “Hi to you too.”

“No, seriously,” Soonyoung shuts the door of his car and examines the poster before gently taking it from your hands. “Why is he first? I’m your brother, I should be first — hey, Seok, look at this.”

In all his glory, Seokmin steps out of the car and lugs a red duffel bag over his shoulder. He smiles at you. “Hey,” he says, then looks at Soonyoung. “Oh, did you make this? It’s so nice, love the amount of glitter that you used— does that say Soonyou?”

You smile sheepishly. “I ran out of room.”

Soonyoung turns the poster around so he’s staring at it yet again, and then he looks up at you with an unappreciative frown. “Do you have no respect for me at all?” he asks overdramatically, and you can’t believe you ever missed this. “Seriously? Soonyou?”

“Just be glad I made a poster in the first place, ungrateful prick.”

Soonyoung flicks your forehead then shuffles over to walk through the open door. “Are Mom and Dad here?”

“They went out to get some food,” you answer, stepping in after Seokmin and Soonyoung do. “Jiwoo’s here, though.”

“Wonderful,” your brother drawls, slipping off his shoes and walking into the kitchen where Jiwoo places two toasted pop tarts onto a plate. “My sibling doesn’t put half of my name on the ‘Welcome Home’ poster, Mom and Dad aren’t home when I get here, and Jiwoo’s eating all the pop tarts.”

Jiwoo licks her thumb and, without looking up, says, “Hi, Soonyoung. Hi, Seokmin.”

Soonyoung places his car keys onto the counter and looks at everything with a genuine smile before his eyes meet Seokmin’s. “Home sweet home.”

“Cheeseball,” you snort, taking the poster from your brother and placing it next to his car keys. “How long are you guys here for?”

“Until the last week of August,” Seokmin replies, glancing at Soonyoung for confirmation before turning back to you and nodding. He leans over to take a piece of Jiwoo’s pop tart. “Anything we missed while we were gone?”

Jiwoo gives Seokmin a warning look when he tries to take more of her food. “Nothing much. Y/N’s really grown a lot, though,” she grins at your raised eyebrows. “They’ve finally let go of their petty grudges.”

Seokmin hops onto the counter. “Oh, are you talking about Vernon?” he opens the cabinet beside his head to shuffle through the food in hopes of finding something to snack on. You’re glad you hid all of your gummy bears in your room before they arrived. “How’s that going, by the way? Are you guys serious? Is he your soulmate?”

You blink. “We’re not dating.”

Both boys ignore your comment. “Y/N’s birthday isn’t until Monday,” Soonyoung sticks his head into the fridge and opens a can of LaCroix.

“Okay, let me rephrase then: do you think he’s your soulmate?”

“Oh, imagine how cute that would be. You’re not sure if he’s your soulmate but then, when you turn eighteen,” Soonyoung grins from ear-to-ear as he watches you struggle to interject. The devilry in his eyes does nothing to ease you, “the string’s already gold.”

You might strangle Soonyoung right then and there. He can’t seem to remember the food he needed to buy at the grocery store or why he walked into a room, but he’ll remember a conversation he had with his sibling when they were sixteen. You bite your tongue and discreetly flip him off.

Seokmin furrows his eyebrows. “Um, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Well, then they’ll defy the universe!”

Your eye twitches. If you could, you’d go back in time and prevent that conversation from ever happening.

Jiwoo glances at you and then starts to shift the conversation while you look out the window and spot Vernon walking towards your door. Quickly, you turn to make sure nobody’s noticed you focussed your attention on something else, but Seokmin already follows your line of sight and he grins.

The first time he grinned like that was on the last day of first grade when everyone had to put all of their art projects into their bags to take them home. Seokmin and Soonyoung, who ventured from their classroom to yours, had decided it would be hilarious to dump their water into your backpack and ruin the drawing you’d been boasting about for weeks. It was an awful thing to do — you wouldn’t stop crying on the way home — and the two of them were grounded for a week.

He grinned like that in fifth grade too, when he brought Soonyoung a cupcake and sang happy birthday to him before smashing it in his face. He grinned like that in middle school when you told him you liked Joshua Hong to get him off your back, and he created a cheesy WILL YOU GO OUT TO THE DANCE WITH ME? poster on your behalf and gave it to him.

He’s grinning like that now.

Seokmin practically jumps off the counter and shouts an excuse to Soonyoung about grabbing his things while you follow after him, saying you’ll help. You nearly trip on your own two feet when putting on your Dad’s Crocs and racing after Seokmin to make sure he doesn’t say anything to Vernon that’ll embarrass you.

Vernon’s tilting his head at Soonyoung’s car, wondering about its familiarity, before widening his eyes at the sight of Seokmin walking hastily towards him and you not far behind.

“Hi,” Seokmin says, all smiles and optimism. “I’m Seokmin.”

Vernon has to blink multiple times before nodding and shaking Seokmin’s hand. “I’m Vernon.”

Seokmin is still smiling while you place your hand on your knees and try to catch your breath. “I’m aware!” Before the conversation can turn awkward, he adds, “I heard you’re dating Y/N! That’s great — I know how much of a handful they can be.”

You hit his arm. “I’m right here.”

He ignores you. “I wish I could say I’ve heard such good things about you, but Y/N’s always complained, because they used to hate you and everything.” Seokmin shoves his hands into his pockets, and his eyes glint because he has yet to proclaim the last part of his piece that you assume will only punch you in the gut. “But — what was the saying again? — there’s a fine line between love and hate?”

Vernon’s lips part and he looks over at you in hopes to get a hint of what to say. You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around Seokmin’s last sentence. “Um,” Vernon chuckles nervously, “we’re not dating.”

You nod slowly. “We’re friends, Seokmin.”

“Ah,” Seokmin hums, throwing a look of embarrassment, but you know him well enough to pick it apart. Usually, Seokmin does things without thinking, but you’re sure there’s an ulterior motive to this conversation. He’s testing a theory and making sure it’s right. “That’s my bad, then.”

He salutes, makes a short comment about going back inside and pats you on the shoulder. You inhale, patiently waiting for the ache to come. But your heartbeat remains steady and you think, for the first time since you’ve known Seokmin, you can finally breathe.

Once Seokmin’s out of earshot, you turn to Vernon. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Vernon eyes your front door. “He’s back?”

“Only for a couple weeks,” you reply. “Why are you here?”

“I thought we could hang out,” he takes a step back and gestures towards Soonyoung’s car and then towards your house. “But if you want to catch up with them, that’s fine, I can just text you later.”

“No, actually—” you bite your tongue and search Vernon’s expectant gaze. “We can hangout. I’ll see them later, anyways.”

Vernon waits for you to change your mind — he gives you plenty of time to do so, too, and when you show no sign of going back, his lips quirk up to form a small smile. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, falling into step beside him. “Where to?”

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N:

ENTRY THIRTY: July 31

They consider me a friend? No, I am not smiling like an idiot right now.

AUGUST 1.

Vernon doesn’t expect to spill his heart out to you with one hour left until August second, but here he sits, grass tickling his calves and eyes sprinkled with stars, and then the words fall from his lips like a bottle overflowing with water.

“I don’t believe in soulmates because it didn’t work out for my parents,” he says softly. He’s afraid if he talks any louder, the entire neighbourhood will hear. “My mom doesn’t like talking about it so I don’t know the entire thing, I just— they loved each other until they didn’t.”

You open your mouth to apologize to him but realize that won’t help — it’s obvious Vernon doesn’t care about it much anymore, but you can’t just stay silent.

He speaks up again. “Do you remember our conversation at that party a few weeks ago?” He spots you shaking your head from the corner of his eye. “You asked me if I believed in love, and I didn’t answer you because I didn’t know if I did — which is weird, right? How can I work at a place meant for love when I don’t even know if I believe in it?” You don’t know what to say, so he continues. “But I think I have an answer now. I believe in love, but maybe not for myself.”

This, however, you have an answer to. “Vernon,” you protest, shaking your head. “Don’t be ridiculous. So many people love you.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I mean the soulmate type of love, the one fate just—”

“Don’t say that,” you interrupt, straightening your spine and turning to face him. “You said the same thing when we were at the playground.”

He scoffs. “Because there isn’t someone for me.”

“You don’t know that,” you say immediately. He gives you a look that tells you that he doesn’t believe your words, and he thinks you don’t believe them either — but you do. “There’s somebody out here for you, Vernon. Maybe you just haven’t met them yet.”

He blinks. “I have.”

“What?”

“I have,” he turns from the caring pools in your eyes just in case he falls into the deep end. “I met my soulmate a while ago.”

Your lips part. “What?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs incredulously, as if he can’t believe it either. “They didn’t want me, which wasn’t surprising. This is my point, Y/N — love just doesn’t work out for me.”

You slump, hands falling behind you to steady yourself as you look away from him. Your head spins and your eyebrows furrow, and, because your curiosity threatens to spill over, you ask, “When’s your birthday?”

He bites his lip, wondering if it’s worth telling you.

And it is. It’s worth it because, after what seems like forever, you two have finally found common ground. When you look at him, you smile with no annoyance or irritation or burning hot rage. When you look at him, it’s like the world grants him oxygen to breathe.

“February eighteenth.”

(The stars hold their breath, waiting—)

The next words that fall from your lips are the wrong ones to say. “That’s the same day as Seokmin.”

(—and they sigh.)

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY:

ENTRY THIRTY-ONE: August 1

Maybe the best nights aren’t spent rewatching The Vampire Diaries until the sun rises. Maybe they’re spent next to Y/N Kwon.

AUGUST 2.

Okay, so maybe this party isn’t so bad. You’ll admit that you half-expected Jiwoo to invite dozens of people neither of you know, but the party started an hour ago and all you’ve seen are familiar faces.

For the time being, you’re in the kitchen with Soonyoung and Seokmin, the former sitting on the counter while Seokmin leans against it. They’re rambling about the new people they’ve met on campus, their potential new classmates, and you nod along. When your brother animatedly throws his arms up in the air whilst telling a story about their second day on campus, you realize that Seokmin and Soonyoung are probably better off away from here. And you don’t start crying at the realization.

You’re sure you’ll always miss them, but that’s what makes reunions like these so memorable. You’ll see Soonyoung during spring break and send Seokmin photos of stuffed animals you know he’ll love and for you, that’s enough. Here, spending time with your brother and your friend is enough.

“And there’s this guy, Jihoon, amazing dude,” Soonyoung's voice booms. “He makes music and stuff. I don’t know how all of it works but seeing him do it is just so— God, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You smile then look at Seokmin. “How about you? Met any other cool people?”

Seokmin opens his mouth to answer but Soonyoung interjects before he can. “He’s been spending all his time with his soulmate instead of meeting other people.” Despite Soonyoung’s bitter tone, he nudges Seokmin with his elbow and grins. “He’s so in love it actually makes me sick.”

“I’m not— shut up,” Seokmin hisses. Something tells you his flushed cheeks aren't from the alcohol. “I met some people, too. Like Minghao whose dorm is across from us, he’s nice, and— yeah, I guess going to college with your soulmate is a bonus.”

“Don’t downplay it like that,” you tell him. “Admit it, you’re in love.”

Seokmin exhales. You’ve never seen that type of love in his eyes before. “Yeah,” he says, lips turned upwards, “yeah, maybe a little.”

“I told you,” Soonyoung quips, ruining the moment entirely, “the love is ruining him, Y/N. It’s ruining him.”

“Fuck off,” Seokmin laughs and shoves Soonyoung’s side, which only makes Soonyoung whine about the booze spilled on the floor. “You’ll be like this too once you meet your soulmate — granted you don’t end up running them away.”

Soonyoung shakes his head with a grin. “Low blow.” Before he brings the cup to his lips, he nods to you. “And I probably won’t meet my soulmate for a long time. Probably never, really. But I can’t say the same for Y/N.”

The colour drains from your face at the thought that you’ve lost track of time. You glance at your hand and then the clock and then back at your hand again. It’s nearing eleven-thirty — you have around thirteen minutes until the red string of fate ties a knot on your pinky.

As if he can read your mind, Seokmin’s eyes soften. “Hey,” he mumbles. It’s a surprise you can still hear him above the loud chattering around you, “I know you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be. The string will appear on your hand and feel weird for a few days, but you’ll end up forgetting about it. And on the off chance you meet your soulmate tonight,” he pauses upon noticing a group of friends entering the kitchen. His eyes fall on a certain brunet boy, “then is that so bad?”

Vernon stands at the door talking with Seungkwan and Chan, and you stare for a bit too long that, when you weakly protest, “We aren’t dating,” it loses all its credibility.

Seokmin grins from behind his cup. “Never said you were.”

Chan sees you first and stumbles towards you, smiling wide. “Y/N! Happy birthday!” When he reaches you, his hands fall on your shoulder and he leans against you. “How does it feel? You’re turning eighteen!"

You don’t answer Chan’s question because you aren’t as excited for today as you thought you’d be and you don’t have the heart to burst his excitement. Truth be told, you liked the comfort your last summer as seventeen-years-old has given you. You had freedom but not quite. “Are you drunk?”

Chan brings his fingers up. “A little. Needed liquid courage to sing happy birthday to you in front of all these people.”

“That’s not until later.”

“Got ahead of myself,” he murmurs, moving to lean against Seungkwan when he and Vernon stop beside you. “Hey, Seungkwan. Vernon,” and then his eyes travel to Seokmin and Soonyoung, suddenly registering the presence of two other people. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” the boy raises his cup in greeting and all Chan does is nod in acknowledgement. Nobody would ever forget the boy who always seemed to find joy in a place everyone wanted to get out of. How ironic that he wanted to leave, too. “You’re Chan, right? I like your family’s donuts.”

Chan smiles politely like he always does when somebody compliments his family’s donut business. “Thanks. Means a lot.”

“I’m Soonyoung,” your brother tilts his head, examining the new boys by your side. “Birthday celebrant’s brother. Also a dancing machine and gardener extraordinaire.”

You deadpan, “He can’t garden.”

“I can,” Soonyoung grumbles. “Fuck you.”

Chan almost trips when Seungkwan pushes him off his shoulder. “Seungkwan. I’m good at Just Dance but I don’t garden.”

Vernon glances at you, gives you a nod like you two are in your own little world for two seconds before he introduces himself as well, but since Seokmin grins like they’re already friends and Soonyoung’s lips part in realization, he really didn’t need to. Still, he shakes Soonyoung’s hand when your brother extends it.

“Jiwoo said we’d find you here,” Vernon says, wiping the sweat of his hands on his jeans. “Someone brought a karaoke machine and we figured you wanted to try it out.”

“Oh, yes, that’s why I drank,” Chan claps his hands. “Liquid courage. For singing.”

You frown. “I thought it was because you wanted confidence to sing to me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chan nods and then he tugs on your arm. “C’mon, sing a duet with me. I think there’s ABBA.”

Seungkwan snaps his fingers. “Oh, oh, you guys can sing that song they had in Mamma Mia!” he exclaims, tilting his head up at the ceiling to try and remember the name. “What was it called again?”

Vernon blinks. “Literally all the songs in the Mamma Mia! soundtrack are by ABBA—”

“Shut up, Vernon.”

You don’t even have a chance to wave a goodbye to Soonyoung and Seokmin because Chan’s grabbing your sleeves and dragging you alongside him to the living room, and you swear there’s more people in there than there were a few minutes ago. Vernon and Seungkwan trail behind, bickering about which Mamma Mia! movie was best, occasionally asking you and Chan to back them up.

Chan stops in front of the coffee table and takes the mic from a boy you think sat behind you in Chemistry. “Give me that,” he grumbles and you smile apologetically. “Everyone, make way for Y/N, they’re the birthday celebrant! Also please cheer them on even if they end up being tone deaf.”

“Chan, shut up,” you hiss.

Chan flips through the guide while you collapse on the couch beside Vernon, complaining under your breath about the unwanted attention you're receiving, to which Vernon only responds with a reassuring smile and a playful nudge.

“You’ll do fine,” he murmurs under his breath. “Chan can sing, though, so good luck. No pressure.”

“You’re horrible at these motivational talks.”

“Never said I was good,” he shrugs. “Happy birthday, by the way. I don’t think I said it yet.”

“You sent me fifteen texts throughout the day and used those special iMessage balloon effects.”

“I needed to make sure I got the message across.” Vernon frowns and searches your face for something. “And you only reacted to those texts with a thumbs up.”

“What was I supposed to say? Thanks?”

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Vernon retorts. “I don’t know, maybe reply with something more exciting? You’re acting like today isn’t a big deal.”

“Because it isn’t.”

The student council in high school — which you were part of — would always put up posters of fairytale love stories on bulletin boards and decorate the walls with gold on Valentine’s Day. It was nonsense and cliché, especially since the decor was supposed to be taken down before the next day, but Vernon always remembered, every Valentine’s Day, you would gush to Jiwoo about turning eighteen. Love, you would say, to which Jiwoo would add: and freedom.

He expects you to be as excited about this as you once were about the idea of it all. He wants you to enjoy tonight because you should.

Chan nudges your foot. “Picked the song.”

Behind the couch, Seungkwan pulls his phone from his back pocket and opens his camera app. When you stare incredulously at him, he only shrugs, “Your brother said to get this on tape.”

You rub the temples of your forehead. “God—”

When Chan pulls you off the couch, that’s when Vernon notices how close you were. The feeling of your arm pressed against his burns his skin and only disappears when Seungkwan slips into the space beside him, fumbling with the settings on his phone and murmuring about editing special effects over the video — just to make it more special.

“Should I add a voice filter?” Seungkwan calls, and you only flip him off. The boy laughs and, before pressing the record button, whispers out of the corner of his mouth, “You and Y/N looked cozy.”

Vernon knows where this conversation will go if he stays seated beside his best friend. Seungkwan knows him like the back of his hand — as all best friends should. He knows what makes Vernon tick and what pushes him over the edge to do what he needs to do. Seungkwan’s pushed him out of his comfort zone before, and he’ll do it again.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Vernon steps back to walk out of the living room. “That terrified of hearing me sing?”

It’s teasing, the way you talk to him, but when he looks at you, worry has engulfed you. He gives you his best smile, but he isn’t sure if it’s reassuring enough.

“No,” he denies almost immediately. “Just going to get a drink. I’ll be back before you finish. Promise.”

Vernon finds himself in the kitchen again, only this time, he’s standing by Lee Seokmin, who frowns at the boy hastily pouring himself a cup of Jiwoo’s notorious sick-to-the-stomach punch. Seokmin blinks at him for a moment before murmuring something to Soonyoung and squeezing himself into the spot next to Vernon.

“You shouldn’t drink that,” Seokmin warns cautiously. “Jiwoo’s punch is terrible. One time I couldn’t move for days — I don’t know what she adds in it.”

“Yeah, I was just…” Vernon trails off and brings the cup to his lips before hesitantly placing it back down on the counter. “I’m thirsty.”

Seokmin nods and Vernon can tell there’s going to be more to this conversation than painful small talk. “Listen,” Seokmin starts, shifting his body to face Vernon, who refuses to turn his head. “I know you and Y/N aren’t dating, so I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable in any way when I joked about—”

“I’m not,” Vernon stops him. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Because when you saw me a few days ago you looked like you didn’t want to talk to me, which yeah, I understand, you don’t know me that well, but,” Seokmin clicks his tongue, “when you saw me today, you genuinely looked annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed, I’m just…” Vernon cuts himself off, preventing his next words from falling from his lips because if they do, he’ll be admitting something to himself he doesn’t want to admit. And it’s not like he and Seokmin are buddy-buddy enough to know each other’s deepest darkest secrets. “Forget it.”

“Well, I talked to Soonyoung about it,” Seokmin continues, not listening to Vernon’s begrudged forget it, “and he said it’s because you probably actually like Y/N. Which was a joke — he finds it hilarious, actually, that you two are friends now — but I don’t think he’s far off. And I talked to Jiwoo. She really thinks you have feelings.”

Fuck it. Vernon takes a swig of the punch.

From the corner of his eye, Seokmin winces. “I know you have some sort of problem with me, I don’t know what it is,” he sucks in his teeth, “but tonight at eleven forty-three, Y/N’s going to get their soulmate string, and these feelings are going to end up hurting you.”

“It’s a little too late for this talk,” Vernon mutters. “Besides, I already know who my soulmate is.”

“Huh. When’s your birthday?”

“February eighteenth.”

Vernon swears he wants to die when Seokmin replies, “Oh, hey! That’s my birthday, too!”

“Yeah. Me and my soulmate haven’t gotten the twenty-four hours yet, though,” he explains, waving his hand up in the air dismissively. “The whole ‘you have twenty-four hours to fall in love’ bullshit? Yeah.”

“Oh. They didn’t want to do it?”

Vernon considers his options. He doesn’t know Seokmin — all he knows about him is that he used to go to the same school, he has an endless amount of striped shirts, and he’s been oblivious to his best friend’s sibling’s infatuation for years. And Seokmin doesn’t know him, either. He won’t know if Vernon lies.

But... Vernon pushes his tongue up to the roof of his mouth then takes another sip of the punch.

“No, they haven’t gotten their string yet.”

Seokmin hums then pushes himself off the granite counter. The conversation has hit a dead end. He points to the clock. “They’re singing happy birthday soon.”

Vernon discards his cup and nods his head. “Right, yeah, of course,” he mumbles and doesn’t say goodbye to Seokmin when they split paths; Seokmin to Soonyoung, and Vernon to you.

On his way to the living room, though, Jiwoo tugs on his arm and tells him to find the lighter, and he spends a good five minutes rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen until Jiwoo decides to give up. She’s talking to a person beside her, discussing different ways to light candles, when someone shouts at the top of their lungs that it’s eleven forty-five and Jiwoo is late.

She hurries into the living room, apologizing that she missed the exact minute you turned eighteen, but you only shake your head to reassure her it’s fine. Jiwoo starts to bicker with Soonyoung about her time management when someone says something to you, and Vernon watches as realization dawns on your face. You look at the clock above the TV — still flashing you and Chan’s karaoke points, which is unbelievably low — then at your pinky, and then at Vernon.

He realizes a second too late why you’re staring at him.

He has two options. Option one: Push through the crowd formed around you and touch you. Touch your arms, graze your cheek, hold your hands. He can let himself be burned again by the feeling of your skin, let himself drown in its hypnotizing warmth, and let fate’s clock start. If he does this, by this time tomorrow night, you are either in love with him or you aren’t.

But he decides it’s too scary. Maybe taking that risk isn’t worth it.

So he chooses the second option. And he runs.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY ABOUT Y/N KWON: WHAT YOU LEARN TODAY ABOUT VERNON CHWE:

ENTRY ONE: August 2

He’s your soulmate.

Soulmate lore states that when somebody’s string is excruciatingly tight, it means their soulmate is far (Soonyoung believes he’ll never meet the love of his life simply because the string around his pinky feels like it’s cutting off his circulation). On the other hand, if you get it but it doesn’t feel like it’s there at all, it means your soulmate was always closer than you anticipated.

When Vernon slips out the door, you look back at your fingers to make sure you aren’t hallucinating. But then you feel a tug, as if fate is pushing you to follow him.

The words you mumble to Jiwoo are incoherent but you’re out the door before she can complain. Chan tries to grab your sleeve and make you stay so he can embarrassingly sing happy birthday, but you slip out of his grasp and rush out the door, desperately trying to spot Vernon’s brown head of hair.

You unlock your phone after Face ID decides it can’t detect your face in the dark and press Vernon’s contact. The phone rings and rings and you think he might be ignoring you until you faintly hear Seungkwan inside wondering aloud why you’re calling Vernon.

Of course he left his phone here.

You’re about to run down the street towards his house. Emotions flood every artery in your body, but you can’t quite place what it is. Anger, maybe, because Vernon never told you he was your soulmate. Sadness, maybe, because the first thing he did when he saw you looking at him was run. Desperation, maybe, because you need to talk to him. You need to hear his voice.

“Y/N.”

You swear you almost trip down the porch stairs.

Vernon stands on the street, eyes tired. You think, for a moment, he didn’t run because he was afraid, but because he wanted to talk to you without anybody around. You hope, for a moment, he isn’t going to slip between your fingers like sand and disappear before you even have a chance to love him.

But Vernon looks at you as if his heart is made of porcelain.

“Hi,” you whisper. “Why did you leave?”

“I was going to go back home, actually, but I think you deserve to hear this from me, and not from a text,” he starts carefully. Dread seeps into your face and you swear your heart’s being crushed. But no. Maybe what he has to say won’t be bad at all. “We can’t do this, Y/N.”

The air is shoved out of your lungs. “What?”

“This isn’t going to work,” he says. “It was never going to work.”

Suddenly, the anger drowns the sadness and desperation both. “What are you talking about?” you ask incredulously. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“Soulmates need two people to work, Y/N.”

“Is this about you thinking you don’t deserve love?”

“No.” Yes. “It’s about how you have been in love with somebody for years and that person isn’t me.”

The fury dissipates. “That doesn’t matter anymore, Vernon,” you reply, hopelessly clawing for any sign that he’ll change his mind. “It doesn’t. I don’t love him anymore—”

“You can’t love somebody for over half your life and get over it in a month,” Vernon interrupts. He needs you to see his point of view. He needs you to let him go because he isn’t strong enough to love someone who doesn’t love him back. “That’s not how it works.”

“Don’t dictate my feelings, Chwe.”

“Don’t you see?” Vernon scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “That right there. Look at your face, Y/N, you look like you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you—!”

“You did for years, stuff like that doesn’t just—”

“Vernon,” you cut him off, anguish flushing your cheeks. “You hated me too, and look where we are now. We became friends, feelings change—”

“No, that’s different,” he shakes his head when you step forward. “No, I never hated you. You hated me.”

Your hands drop to your side. “Vernon, come on,” you plead. The misery tickles your throat and threatens to spill. “You can’t just cut me off like this.”

“I can,” he murmurs. “Me and Seungkwan are leaving for New York at the end of this month and you’re staying here. The timezones and— no matter how much you think you can make it work, it won’t.”

“So, what,” you exhale, blinking quickly to make sure tears don’t fall down your cheeks, “that’s it?”

“I survived months knowing that we would never work, Y/N,” He takes a step back, ready to end this conversation because he cannot bear to stand in front of you while you look like your heart has been ripped to shreds. “I think I can survive the rest of my life.”

You hear Jiwoo’s aunt’s cuckoo clock the same time Vernon turns to begin his trek towards his house. And just like Cinderella, you lose everything at midnight.

Tuesday, August 3 09:07 a.m.

you: listen i know you don’t wanna talk to me but i think you’re being really unfair you: please answer my calls

Tuesday, August 3 21:08 p.m.

you: i gave you 12 hours to talk to me that’s enough right? you: vernon please

Wednesday, August 4 01:01 a.m.

you: i swear i’m about to kick your door down

Wednesday, August 4 10:19 a.m.

you: okay so you don’t wanna talk to me i get it you: but you really did not have to send seungkwan down here. you could’ve just said it to my face you: soonyoung and seokmin are looking at me like i’ve been punched in the gut you: which i guess i have

Saturday, August 7 16:55 p.m.

you: wanna watch a movie?

ji: he’s still not talking to you?

you: u didn’t answer my question

ji: yn..

you: yeah he’s still not talking to me

Wednesday, August 11 12:08 p.m.

seokmin: saw vernon at the grocery store & told him to talk to you

you: what makes you think he’s gonna listen to you

seokmin: i don’t know seokmin: hope?

you: seok

seokmin: you two can’t just give up seokmin: that’s so dumb seokmin: why doesn’t he wanna try anyway?

you: it’s a long story you: i don’t wanna talk abt it rn

seokmin: yn

you: seokmin

seokmin: ...fine seokmin: im omw back with some walmart cupcakes

you: thank you

Saturday, August 14 23:57 p.m.

chan: okay this is stupid chan: yn please talk to vernon

you: is this a new gc?

seungkwan: IDK WHAT U DID TO VERNON BUT WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU...

chan: SEUNGKWAN

you: if he doesn’t wanna talk to me then i’m not gonna talk to him

seungkwan: because you’re a COWARD?

you: because he thinks i don’t love him

seungkwan: wait what

chan: I TOLD U VERNONS THE ONE IN THE WRONG chan: wait chan: ???? U LOVE HIM ?

you: BYE chan BYE seungkwan

AUGUST 15.

Vernon thinks he might collapse.

When he woke up this morning, he ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, took a shower, changed, reminded himself that he doesn’t have to drive to your house to pick you up, and went to work. Upon arriving at the Soulmate Service, Winn made him talk to his clients — a thirty-something woman who’s skeptical of Vernon’s abilities as a matchmaker (which he supposes he deserves) — and then went into the back room to help Winn make a plan on how to handle the Soulmate Service in Vernon’s absence.

He’s about to go on his lunch break when he walks out from behind the counter to find you sitting in the chairs of the waiting room, tapping your feet impatiently. He freezes, then you freeze, and then you stand up and start spewing indecipherable words. The only things Vernon catches are: Jiwoo said you wouldn’t be here and sorry. You look good.

Vernon has to blink multiple times to make sure he isn’t seeing things. He knows he was the one that ghosted you, but air fills his chest like a gas tank pumping helium into balloons. He’s missed you.

“Um,” he starts. The one syllable is enough to make you clamp your mouth shut. “Sorry. What are you doing here?”

The words come out harsher than he anticipated. “Oh, Jiwoo needed to drop something off,” you say meekly. “And I need to talk to Winn about ending the service. We haven’t spoken in a while, so I figured this thing is done, right?”

This was a long time coming — he knows that. There are consequences to his actions, and those just happen to be never seeing you again. But this hits him — really hits him. He’s rooted to his spot, as if his legs are conspiring against him and he’s being stopped from stopping you.

He picks his words carefully. “You ended it already?”

“Not yet,” you reply. “Jiwoo went to go buy something so I’m just waiting for her. And one of your co-workers said Winn was busy, so.”

“Right,” Vernon nods. “We were talking about, uh, New York.”

Your face drops, just a little, but it’s enough for Vernon to notice. “You and Seungkwan are leaving soon then?” you ask, then shake your head. “Never mind, stupid question. Seungkwan’s packing and everything.”

“You guys talk a lot?”

“A little,” you hum. “And also he spams his Instagram story a lot. I swear that thing is like five minutes long.”

Vernon’s lips quirk up. It’s barely a smile, but even just a hint of it tugs at your heartstrings. This kind of feeling is something you’ve only read about in books — the feeling of having such a big connection with somebody that when they leave it physically hurts. Sorrow digs into your chest and breaks you apart. It’s a feeling you don’t ever want to feel again.

It’s baffling, almost, how much you missed his smile. Even the amusing smirks and the teasing shit-eating grins.

As two people walk by, you take a few steps forward and Vernon almost recoils, as if he doesn’t want to touch you. But he does — however, here’s the thing: when the twenty-four hours starts, there’s a chance his string will be cut, which means he’ll no longer be connected to you. At least when he leaves for New York, the string will still be there — albeit a little tighter — but when it’s gone, you’re gone.

The idea of never seeing you again is something he doesn’t want.

“Vernon,” you murmur. “Why won’t you give this a chance?”

It’s a heavy question, isn’t it? Why won’t you give this a chance?

There’s a multitude of answers he can give, but it all boils down to: you being his soulmate terrifies him. You not being his soulmate does, too.

Vernon plops himself in the seat in front of you and hesitantly, you sit back down. “You know in fifth grade I was supposed to sit next to Jiwoo? But Seungkwan asked to switch because he couldn’t see the board from the back,” his back hits the soft cushion and he stares down at his feet. “I felt bad about the whole sandcastle thing in kindergarten. I tried to make it up to you. I tried — God — I tried to be your friend but you weren’t having it.”

“You were an asshole in fifth grade.”

“Yeah, I,” he sighs, “that’s how I was with Seungkwan. That’s why I tried to be like that with you.”

You bite your cheek. “Okay. But that was years ago.”

“I know,” he says. “But I don’t wanna mess this up again.”

“Technically, you almost did when you ghosted me for two weeks,” you give him a hesitant smile. “But we’re here now, right?”

You barely move, but it feels like you’re inching closer and closer to him. His heart climbs up his throat. “If we don’t love each other after this is over, we’re done for.”

You pause. “You think we won’t be friends?”

“I want us to be,” his voice is almost inaudible. “But I don’t think that’s enough.”

“Sometimes it is,” you stand again, eyes flickering over to the closed door behind the counter and smile. “I promise you this won’t end if the string is cut. Or if you go to New York. Really.”

There’s a moment of silence where Vernon sits, staring at your hand. He’s pretty sure you haven’t been very persuasive at all during this entire conversation, but as much as there’s a part of him that wants to run, there’s another part of him that wants to try. He feels his heartbeat stammer against his ribcage.

He brings his hand to his knee. “Winn will be pissed if I just left.”

“He’ll be fine. It’s not like he can fire you,” you bite your tongue to stop yourself from smiling. “Aren’t you the best in the game?”

Almost doubtfully, he reaches for your hand. When warmth shoots up his arms it’s too late to take anything back — you are his, even if it’s just for a day, and fate’s clock has started.

Sunday, August 15 11:30 a.m.

you: had to run out sorry i’ll see u tmrw

ji: oh okay :/ did you talk to winn? ji: ? why’s winn mad lol i just got back and he’s asking me if i’ve seen vernon ji: wait ji: WAIT ji: YN?? Delivered

“Did you plan this?”

“No. Obviously not. God, fuck,” you groan, glaring at the closed sign of the café as the rain falls down your back. “I swear this place was open when me and Jiwoo walked past it on our way to Target.”

Vernon raises his eyebrows, scanning over the Opening Hours sign by the door. “They’re not open on Sundays.”

“What kind of café isn’t open on Sunday?” you scoff, turning around to look for somewhere to take shelter in. So far, this Soulmate Day hasn’t gone exactly as planned. Not like you even planned it, anyway — you just wanted it to go smoothly. “Really, sometimes people just need a pick-me-up, but of course it’s closed.”

Vernon smiles. “It’s fine, we’ll find somewhere else to go.”

You look up at him. “You look like a dog.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, your hair’s all wet,” you snort. “And you kind of look like a wet dog. It’s cute.”

“Alright,” Vernon huffs, leaning against the closed door and glancing up at the raindrops pounding against the pavement. “So is this what we’re going to do all day? Loiter in front of a closed café until the rain stops?”

You deflate. “No, of course not,” you scoff. A beat of silence, then: “I hope not.”

He watches as you narrow your eyes at the clouds and bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t think it’ll be stopping anytime soon,” he says, sliding down so that he hits the pavement. “Sit. Might as well spend our last twenty-four hours talking.”

“Last twenty-four hours,” you scoff. “Neither of us are dying.”

Vernon sighs. “Sit.”

With a groan, you take a seat beside Vernon, the cold concrete sending a thrill down your spine as soon as your skin touches it. As the rain patters relentlessly on every surface, you frown and rest your head against the café’s window. These Soulmate Days, as your mother likes to call them, are usually spent having fancy, over-the-top dates — the kind of dates you would only have the idea for if you spent hours on Pinterest, searching for perfection.

A raindrop hits your eye and you try to blink it away. You don’t even know how it landed on your face; you and Vernon are sitting under the slanted roof of the strip mall.

“Today was supposed to be fun.”

Vernon frowns at your dejected expression. “Hey, it’s okay.” His elbow hits yours. “Really. You said you didn’t plan this, so you never would’ve known it’d start pouring.”

“Yeah, but,” you exhale, “I wanted today to be good, you know?” Because if it isn’t perfect how will it be enough to convince him this is worth it? “And you hate the rain.”

He stares at the wet material of his shoes. “Yeah, I do.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, basking in the other’s presence. Vernon watches the rain while your mind spins, trying to use all the problem-solving skills your teachers in school would tell you to use. But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t find a way to solve this problem, because here you are — sitting on an empty street, waiting for the rain to stop, while the humidity swims into your bloodstream, next to a boy who thinks you’ll never love him.

Wait.

You sit up. “Hold on,” you say, spinning quickly to face Vernon. “Do you love me?”

He laughs. “What?”

“Do you love me?”

Vernon looks at you weirdly, shuffling to look at you properly. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t think I love you.”

“Well, yeah, because you don’t—”

“But you love me.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah, I thought that was kind of obvious.”

You send him a short glare. And then, “How long?” you ask. When he frowns, you add, “How long have you loved me?”

Vernon grows quiet, eyes flitting from the sidewalk then to the clouds and then to you. He has that look on again — the difficult-to-interpret, undecipherable look that you never bothered to understand. But now you find yourself wanting to take in every detail. “That’s not something I can exactly pinpoint.”

“Approximately,” you reply back, “approximately how long.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs.

Love is a tricky thing. He can say that he’s loved you since that day in the sandbox — but he hasn’t. He can say he loved you since you took your first seat beside him in fifth grade — but he hasn’t. He can say it was at the New Year’s party two years ago where you didn’t notice him or the one last year where you did but then forgot. He can say it was when the string appeared on his finger and he went to school the next day only to realize with a start that his soulmate is you. He can say he’s loved you since the beginning of summer.

He doesn’t know. Because by the time you, filled to the brim with annoyance, sat beside him on the bench on July second, he didn’t know where his feelings lied.

Maybe he’s never loved you. Maybe it was fate making him believe he was.

But isn’t that what Soulmate Days are for? To see if you love them? Truly, really love them?

The rain slows, the clouds part, the sun seeps through.

Vernon’s noticed he associates weather with people. Jiwoo is the nights spent under the Big Dipper and other scattered constellations, where it’s not too chilly and not too hot. Winn is the calm before the lightning storm, where the atmosphere settles into one of peace and quiet until the surprise hits. His dad is the rain, sadness floating in skies and puddles.

You are the sunshine after the rainstorm. The rainbow in the sky so faint you can barely see it, the glistening in the water, the relief in the sun. You are, without a doubt, beautiful. Vernon thinks he can endure the rain if it means seeing the beauty right after.

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ve loved you long enough.”

AUGUST 16.

His neck hurts like a bitch.

After the skies had cleared, you and Vernon ended up going back home to get some supplies for a beach day. He claimed it wouldn’t be busy — but it’s summer break and California. Rain wouldn’t stop anybody — and refused to let you pick the music on the way there. You bickered over Dolly Parton songs and then Ariana Grande, then you both settled for a station the two of you agreed was passable.

You stopped at a gas station to buy snacks — the clerk from before was working and gave you a raised eyebrow, to which you only scowled — and then spent the rest of your trip playing twenty questions, much to Vernon's dismay. You found out his favourite dog breed are the small wiener dogs and he used to work at the pet store near the Soulmate Service before he got fired for playing with the cats too much. He found out you like strawberry ice cream more than chocolate and have an odd fascination with whales.

At the beach, he splashed you with water and you retaliated until eventually, both of you were soaking head-to-toe. When night approached and you were shivering in Vernon’s car, he thought the two of you would feel better with a trip to McDonald’s.

(You spilled your McFlurry on his leather seats. You think if you were anybody else, he would’ve handed you your ass.)

Instead of dropping you home, Vernon took a detour to the drive-in. The movie was old and in black and white; it was too boring to hold your attention so you spun in your seat, pants sticky with ice cream, and played with Vernon’s fingers while he watched the movie. The smile on his face was breathtaking.

You two ended up falling asleep in his car. Hence the crick in Vernon’s neck.

“Christ,” he mumbles to himself, rubbing his eyes. The sun glares through his windows and he hisses. “God, what the fuck?”

The blinding light is everywhere. Vernon thinks he might turn to stone if it continues to slip through his windows. In the seat beside him, you stir, twisting in the seat and turning to face him.

You drool when you sleep. He’s definitely gonna tease you about that later.

He moves the sun visor to shield his eyes when he catches a glimpse of the time displayed on the radio. 11:45 A.M. God, it’s been a little over a day since he ditched his shift and he’s sure Winn’s gonna kill him.

Vernon stills. It’s been over a day. Twenty-four hours.

He brings his hand up to his face and he almost does a double take. His heart starts pounding against his ribs, hope seeps under his skin, and his lips stretch into a smile.

His string is gold.

Sunday, August 15 21:18 p.m

20 missed calls from soonyoung

soonyoung: WHATS WRONG WITH YOU soonyoung: WHAT KIND OF PERSON JUST DOESNT ANSWER THEIR PHONE soonyoung: yn you don’t have a life why aren’t you answering me i’m freaking out soonyoung: HAVE U BEEN TAKEN??? WHERE ARE YOU

Sunday, August 15 21:23 p.m

seokmin: ANSWER UR PHONE??

10 missed calls from seokmin

seokmin: soonyoung is literally so scared. i’m so scared. WHERE ARE YOU seokmin: yn you haven’t even finished game of thrones yet please come back 😭😭😭

Sunday, August 15 21:34 p.m

soonyoung: i’m gonna put a pic of you on my instagram. whoever finds you gets rewarded with money

Sunday, August 15 22:03 p.m

seokmin: why are your parents not more worried about this seokmin: they’re like cackling rn seokmin: gonna ask jiwoo if she knows where you are

Sunday, August 15 22:17 p.m

ji: UR GONE? ji: UR LOCATION SAYS AT THE DRIVE IN? IM LIKE SPRINTING OVER THERE I M SO TIRER

ji: WHERE ARE U ji: this movie is boring wtfff why are you here 😭 ji: oh there’s vernon ji: WHAT THE FUCK ji: [image attached] ji: LOLLL blackmail material: acquired ji: you drool a lot

Sunday, August 15 22:39 p.m

seokmin: jiwoo just told me where u are omg stay safe!!! seokmin: i called this btw i better be like.. ring bearer at your wedding or something

Sunday, August 15 22:44 p.m

soonyoung: mom and dad just told me they knew where u were all night long because you called them.. and yet you didn’t call ME…. soonyoung: I CANT BELIEVE YOU HAD YOUR SOULMATE DAY AND DIDN’T TELL ME? soonyoung: god now i have to give money to your boyfriend. you’re the worst sibling ever soonyoung: happy for you though ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Monday, August 16 00:55 a.m

seungkwan: hey vernon someone just dm’ed me asking for your cashapp.. don’t forget me when ur rich dude

soon____young sent you $1!

★ author’s note: and the end!!! i kinda got lazy towards the end so sorry about that but....... i hope you enjoyed this lol

© all rights reserved, dkfile 2021.

[aphrodite1288]

>no need to answer this<

i sent you a dm cause i don’t want to “worry” kaisooists who follow the blog. it’s just something i’ve been looking, check when you can.

Here's the account you can check it yourself check all the other posts on the account: there aren't much and you can notice the two bears necklace which Ji/ni wore and Which Jen/nie also wore before:

You have to check all of the posts on this blog below 👇👇⬇️⬇️⬇️ to understand some of the references I'll make in the post below:

There are a lot of similarities but isn't it the same with Jen/nie and Kry/stal ? Their fans never fail to prove up til today that Jen/nie and Ji are still dating , that Krys is still dating Ji and now Ji/ni the model we spoke about last time.

Now Jen/Kai fans and Kai/stal shippers and Jin/Kai believers are still up til now finding similarities between Ji and the girls. While these are just trendy items. Many idols supported Ji with his Gucci collection.

Also we can notice that all the celebrities who like Ji get obsessed with bears and fight online to show their support and love to him through bears. That is something I know for a fact.

As we told before Ji has many admirers among female idols and actresses and models. We told thousands of times how he always receives love confessions to his house some female celebrities even reached out to his manager and asked for his number and begged his manager to set a blind date for them. I'm sure Ji/ni is a fan just like how Jen/nie and Krys are and many idols have Ji items and supported him and started obsessing over bears and Latte.

This whole fuss is made because Ji/ni is friends with Jaeyong ( Asahi admin talked about him last time) whom is friends with Moon/Kyu whom is Ji's bestie. And they did go on a trip before to Cebu. And Asahi admin explained how everyone was saying that Ji asked moon/Kyu to ask his friends Jae/Yong to bring Ji/ni to their trip to Cebu and that's how they started dating. Asahi talked about this.

I don't know what to believe now, is it Kai/stal couple items and lovestagram or Jen/Kai couple items and lovestagram or Jin/Kai's couple items and lovestagram? Who is Ji dating now? Please be consistent. As far as I saw Jen/Kai have the most couple items and similarities and lovestagram up til today ! If we come to consider these as proof of their relationship m

Because they all have couple items and evidence that they're dating with Ji and all of the three girls still updated about coffee and latte and bears and coffee bear foams and messed up kitchen because of Latte coffee dropped to the floor , all of them mention bears in their captions all of them wear Gucci , all of them had same Smiley yellow cake with Ji ( remember Krys/talk had the same cake for her b-day 🎂🎉 in October and 2 months later Ji had his birthday with the Same cake! Now Ji/ni had it for her bday as well I think it's just a trendy cake because I saw some other celebrities having it for their birthdays.)

All of that three girls always post around the same time Ji does. All of them posted same cakes as Ji during January 12th!!!

And I don't see why would Ji do lovestagram when he is very private person and wouldn't want anyone knowing about his relationship especially that he had two dating scandals before and should before careful now and how they claim his relationships were ruined because of fans and Sasaengs and media. So why would he let that happen again? why including messages he wrote for his fans in bubble and relating them to Ji/ni it's for his fans only clearly. Hr ain't dumb to expose himself.

Yes he does have another Instagram, but that guy they claimed was him that he drew himself for her with a birthday cake recently looks more like Ksoo to me than Ji. 😂

Of you go to Jen/Kai pages I swear you'll get convinced that jen/Kai are still dating, if you go to Kai/stal's couple pages I swear you'll get convinced they're back together you'll get shocked by the amount of couple items and hints and lovestagram they have in common, and now with this Model Ji/ni. Who to believe?

The coffees spilling :

There's only two explainations for this:

1- Either Ji is dating all three of them

2-or there obsessed with him .

@Aurore

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hi hi! I was wondering if you could do a dick Grayson x Avatar like fem reader with either a jealous Babs or Zatanna I hope that made sense🥲

True Love’s Kiss

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: I don’t think so

Word Count: 4.1K

@writing2sirvive : Hi love, me again but with a request this time. If you have time of course. I was thinking true love’s kiss with Dick Grayson. You can go crazy with it because I know you love Dick Grayson as much as I do. Btw I love your writing so much.

A/N: I think I did it wrong...cuz even though this is a Dick Grayson x reader fic, it’s mostly centred around reader and Zatanna???? Sorry about that???

You were fine with knowing that Dick was still friends with most of his exes. You completely accepted that he was able to keep functional relationships with most of them. In fact, it showed you how amicable and neutral Dick was and how he never held any grudges against people.

Of course, you were surprised by the sheer number. And the fact that he seems to interact with them practically every day. But eventually you managed not to let yourself get too bothered by it.

I mean, how could you? Barbara was the smartest, funniest, most approachable person you had ever met. She always made sure not to overstep her boundaries and was unusually open with you, given that Dick was her ex-boyfriend.

Raquel was adventurous and fun and you always had a good time when you were around her. She was another one who was respectful of your relationship. She never brought up her past flings with Dick, nor did she ever try and put you down. In fact, she was one of the people who really shipped the two of you.

You liked most of his exes. To the point where it made Dick kind of uncomfortable.

You liked most of his exes.

Ever since you had joined the team, being introduced as Nightwing’s significant other, Zatanna had been a constant thorn in your side. She was nice and sweet but there was something about her that rubbed you the wrong way. You could tell almost immediately that she wasn’t quite over her relationship with Dick. Short as it was.

Or maybe she was just the type of person who didn’t want someone, but didn’t want others to have the same person either.

Nonetheless, being around her put you constantly on edge. You lost count of how many times she redirected a conversation to be about her previous relationship with your boyfriend. ‘Oh, Dick took you to a fancy restaurant for your birthday? Well, I remember back when we were dating, he threw a huge party for me on mine.’

‘Oh, you celebrated your one-year anniversary with Dick in Paris? Well during our 3-month-aversary he bought me an expensive necklace.’

It didn’t bother you in the slightest. At least, not in the way that she hoped. It didn’t make you insecure or doubt or feel intimidated by her. It was just an annoyance that you couldn’t shake off, like the teacher you didn’t like or your annoying neighbour.

Unfortunately, Zatanna couldn’t take a hint that it made you and your friends (Barbara and Raquel included) uncomfortable and slightly irritated. Yet, everyone was just waiting for you to express the slightest distaste, not wanting to step on your toes. However, they were quick to change the topic in case they thought she was going too far.

Dick had been blissfully unaware of everything and you wanted to keep it that way. The last thing you needed was this turning into some sort of issue, especially since Zatanna was still his teammate.

However today you had enough.

You could look past Zatanna’s petty jealousy but allowing the jealousy to come to the forefront during a mission was where you drew the line.

Dick, M’Gann and Conner had been on a covert mission for Batman and out of the country and under team vote decided that you should be made in charge until he returned, since you were the only other older member (other than Zatanna but you were voted leader unanimously. Something you were extremely proud about). That was well and good, until you had been given a mission.

Regardless of how much you did not want to work with Zatanna without the others there to wrangle her, you had to put your personal feelings aside when you had a mission to complete.

You thought you could both be professionals about it and act like mature adults.

You were dead wrong.

If it wasn’t disagreements, it was insubordination. If it wasn’t insubordination, it was blatant arrogance. She questioned your judgment in front of the other members and even had the nerve to argue with you about mission strategies. You were trying to look out for everyone and put yourself in the line of fire since the squad members were better at stealth.

Zatanna seemed to think you were trying to steal the show and insisted that she be partnered with you even though you wanted someone with the younger members to keep them safe.

When you relented and agreed to go stealth, she accused you of ducking out and intentionally trying to put her in danger. The others had to watch as steam practically came out of your ears when you relented once again and decided you’d be with her because you honestly couldn’t argue with her much longer.

As if that wasn’t infuriating enough.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when she refused to work as a team, putting the mission at risk and nearly getting the both of you hurt. She was fighting on her own, not bothering to have your back and going into it alone. Obviously, the two of you were overpowered quickly once they realized that you were pretty much behaving solo.

Luckily, the others pulled through and got you both out of there before anything horrible happened.

You sat in the ship, jaw clenched so tightly that they swore they could hear your teeth cracking, fists nearly white as you tried to control your anger and keep yourself from screaming at her while you were still in the air.

Once the ship landed in the docking bay and Zatanna was the first one to leave without saying another word, you snapped.

“What the hell did you think you were doing today!” You growled out, fisting her collar and stopping her in her tracks.

“What are you talking about?” She feigned innocence and you felt your skin burning. Everything around you faded out and all you could feel was fury. In hindsight, you would have liked to handle this issue in a more refined manner, but you honestly couldn’t care.

So, you didn’t notice the rest of the team, along with the a few members of the Justice League watching you chew Zatanna out.

Whatever would keep you from lighting her on fire was enough.

“I’m talking about putting the mission, not to mention ourselves in jeopardy, all because you can’t stop acting like a spoilt brat!” You hissed.

She rolled her eyes and you and the thought of strangling her briefly crossed your mind before she shoved your hands off her, dusting herself off like your fingerprints were dirt, “You need to stop blaming others for your inadequacy.”

She turned on her heel sharply and walked away. Blood pounded through your ears and your fingers twitched by their sides before you formed a whip of water from the bay and lashed it against her feet.

Zatanna, caught off guard, was thrown across the room before she caught herself with a muttered spell and turned around, glaring at you furiously.

“We’re going to settle things, right here, right now!”

“If you would stop being so insecure, then we could sort out our differences like mature adults!” She screamed back at you and before you could control it, flames erupted from beneath your feet and raced towards her, scorching the ground beneath it.

Each puff of breath you took released sparks. Zatanna immediately got into an offensive stance, levitating one of the weapons crates and chucking at you. You blocked it effortlessly using a wall of earth before throwing an inferno at her.

You kept fighting, flames and splashes of water going into the air every time you collided. The others watched in fear as you both raced towards each other, it looked like neither of you were holding back.

Before you could strike her again, you were being pulled away by Superman and as Zatanna was by Batman, they both pulled you yards apart. Even with his strong, authoritative grip on you, you couldn’t stop thrashing in his arms, throwing gusts of air at her.

“(Y/N). Enough.” Superman spoke in your ear and you calmed down, relaxing in his grip. He let you go after and you winced, feeling your skin bruise where he grabbed you. He gave you an apologetic glance at that.

“You both have to put your differences aside and work as a team or you won’t be allowed to go on any more missions.” Batman told you, voice firm but it didn’t shake you.

“No, Zatanna is going to have to put her issues with me aside and learn that when I have been elected as leader of the squad then you are supposed to put your petty jealousy aside and know your place.” You spat.

“You weren’t right for the position!”

“I did everything right! And if it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have been under open fire tonight!”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“When I am the leader of the squadron then I am! And you’re meant to listen and not question my judgement because you’re being blinded by your pathetic jealously!”

“I’m not jealous of you!”

“Oh, please! That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve heard from you and it was all proved today! Admit it! You were immature and fucking stupid because you can’t get over that fact that you dated Dick for what? 3 months?”

“That’s because he’s supposed to be with me!” 

“LIKE HELL HE IS!” You roared.

Batman felt a little helpless watching the two of you scream at each other. All this fighting? Over a boy? His son, no less? He had other sons and you were free to have your pick. But at this point, he wasn’t even sure what to say.

“You just can’t seem to accept the fact that he doesn’t love you anymore! Get over it! Because he certainly has!” You shouted, spinning on your heel and stomping away from her, determined to have the last word. Superman sighed in relief. He thought another fight would break out.

“You’re just insecure because you know that if he had the chance, he would come crawling back to me!”

A chill went done your spine and you felt cold fury run through your veins, turning around to glare at her murderously and clenching your hands tightly. You were so angry your feet were rooted to the floor, body seizing up slightly.

The others looked anxiously between the two of you as you glared at each other for a minute before you spoke with the calmest, yet most terrifying voice they’ve ever heard from you.

“Zatanna, you can try your damn hardest to win him back. But I promise you, you’re never going to get what you want.” You told her darkly, before walking away.

As Zatanna glared at your receding figure she decided she was going to prove you wrong.

***

To keep you from fighting with Zatanna again, when Batman came to you with a solo mission you couldn’t agree fast enough. Even though you knew you’d miss Dick’s homecoming, you still wanted to get the hell away from here. Not like you’d be missing anything important, other than Zatanna fawning over him.

You’d get to tell him how much you missed him in private anyway.

As soon as you were out of the cave, you couldn’t help the relief that filled your bones. You had been so on edge the past few days, still furious with her so the distance between the two of you was appreciated.

When Dick got home, he was ecstatic to see you again. It had been nearly 3 weeks since he had last held you and his skin was practically buzzing with excitement when he reached a cave, desperate to hug you, kiss you, touch you.

He got to the mess hall quickly, running all the way there and when he opened the door, he was instantly disappointed. You weren’t there.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked Beast Boy, hoping he would tell him that you were just back at your apartment or that you had gone out for a while and would be back soon but he felt his heart sink when Gar gave him a sympathetic smile.

“She’s on a mission for a week.”

“A mission? Who’s with her?”

“No one. It’s a solo mission.”

Now he was worried. You usually didn’t take solo missions, liking to work in a team, knowing that there would be people who would be watching your back was reassuring. He knew you were more than skilled to handle a solo mission but not being by your side made him nervous and slightly antsy.

He was also upset that you weren’t here. So, he decided to do the most adult thing. Go home and sulk in bed while holding your sweatshirt that smelt like you.

But apparently the world had something against him because when he was about to go through the Zeta tube he was intercepted. By non other than Zatanna.

Now, poor clueless Dick had no idea that you had thrown hands with Zatanna just a day ago and was the reason why you weren’t there to welcome him when he got back. If he had he would’ve sulked at her and whined loudly for her to hear while he dragged his feet.

But, poor clueless Dick had absolutely no idea Zatanna was the reason he was being deprived of your kisses. So, he just smiled brightly at her and asked her if she needed anything.

“As a matter of fact, I found an old spell and I need someone to test it out on!”

“I don’t know how I feel about being your non-scientific experiment, Z.”

“Come on, it’s totally harmless, I promise.”

“I don’t know...”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He did. But there was just something about this situation that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he missed you like crazy and just wanted to go home and sulk until you came back. Maybe it was because he felt uncomfortable to go somewhere private with his ex-girlfriend without telling you first. Or maybe it was because of the way Zatanna felt the need to guilt him into it.

Nevertheless, he agreed, albeit reluctantly and went to her room. Inside Zatanna had a bunch of ruins written on a paper and some weird poultices beside it.

“Now this isn’t going to work unless you give me your consent.” She informed, bustling about the room and Dick suddenly felt the air was a little stuffy.

“What do you mean by consent? Consent for what?”

“It’s a love spell.” She told him, smiling slyly but he couldn’t quite understand why. His hands got a little clammy at the announcement. What did she mean by love spell? Was she trying to get him to fall in love with her? Why would she be so open about it then? Especially when she knew he was in love with someone else?

“What do you mean?”

“Oh relax, stop being so tense. It’s just a love spell that proves who you truly love.” She said, immediately noticing how stiff his body was. Though she chalked it up to confusion. Dick was simply confused about who he loved, he was clouded by his attraction to you and he felt guilty about being unfaithful. But deep down, he really loved her. And this spell would prove it.

“In the olden ages, people would use it on their wedding to prove that their significant other truly loved them.”

He nodded, mouth falling open with realization. He already knew what the answer would be so why even bother? He assumed it was because Zatanna was curious to whether it actually worked.

“Too bad (Y/N) isn’t here, I mean I know who I love but I’d like to try it out on her. I mean, who takes a mission the day before their boyfriend comes back to town.” He complained, more to himself but Zatanna still heard it.

“Anyway, can I cast it on you?”

“Sure, couldn’t hurt.”

Oh, how he’d come to know just how wrong he was.

***

You raced through the halls, panicked, hearing your heart beat out of your chest as you sprinted to the Med Bay. Even though you were running as quick as possible you still pumped your legs to run faster, needing to get there quickly.

As soon as you saw Zatanna outside the Med Bay, you skidded to a stop in front of her and grabbing her collar, pinning her against the wall. She hit it with a thud and she saw white for a second when her head collided with the hard surface.

It was then you got a good look at her face. Her eyes were red and face wet. Her lips were bitten until they bled. You gritted your teeth, grip tightening around the collar as tears pricked your eyes.

“What the hell did you do!”

She whimpered, eyes getting glossy again before she started crying, incomprehensible words leaving her lips and you snarled before shaking her again, “You don’t get to cry! What the hell did you do to him!”

“It was a love spell!” She cried out, “It was supposed to reveal who he truly loves.”

“AND?!”

“It’s activated by a kiss.” She sniffled, “And I did.”

“Is it done?” Dick asked just as she finished casting the spell. His body was enveloped by a slight glow that was only visible to her and Zatanna’s lips curled when she realized it had worked. Now there was only one thing left to do.

“Yep.” She said, slinking over to his side and he pouted curiously.

“Are you sure? I don’t feel any different. You said it was supposed to reveal who I love. What happened?”

“We’re gonna find that out. Hold still.” She said, smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck to press a kiss to his lips. Dick froze, feeling her lips move against his and his mind went blank for a second before his chest contracted painfully.

He gasped against her mouth, before his legs buckled and he tumbled to the ground. Zatanna’s eyes widened when she saw the way his body twitched, pained gasps leaving his mouth and tears began falling from his eyes.

“Are you okay?!” She panicked, wrapping her arms around his thrashing figure but he couldn’t choke out an answer.

“Someone help! Anyone! Please!”

“A kiss doesn’t put people through cardiac arrest!” You screamed, feeling your chest tighten as you heard it out loud for the first time. Your eyes began burning and your throat contracted, feeling tears build. It was the first time you had admitted it to yourself.

You were scared. Emotions that you could barely process or understand swirled around you in a dark cloud and you were scared that Dick wouldn’t make it out of his critical state. If he was taken away from you because you hadn’t been there to stop it, you would never forgive yourself.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered, sobbing and her body went limp in your fists. The urge to rip her head off her shoulders resurfaced. She didn’t get to be upset, not when this was all her fault.

“I don’t give a shit.” You hissed, “How do we save him?”

“A true love’s kiss should stop all the side effects.” She whispered, looking up at you with wide eyes, “If Dick truly loves you, then when you kiss him, it’ll reverse the spell.”

You needed to get in there.

You released your hold and Zatanna and she slid to the floor pathetically, holding her body as she cried. But even with her heartbroken sobs, you couldn’t feel any sort of remorse to her, glaring at her instead, “You better hope this works. Or I’ll kill you myself.”

And then you rushed in.

When you got to Dick’s side your breath stuttered when you noticed just how many things he was connected to and you felt your body shake. Batman was carefully watching him from his bedside.

You carefully walked to his side, gently brushing your fingers against his cheekbone. He looked like he was in so much pain. He looked so weak. You wanted to help him but a part of you was scared. For the first time in your life, you doubted Dick’s feelings for you.

The time you needed his love and devotion to be true the most, you were doubtful. A million thoughts rushed through your head and for a second you were tempted to just avoid doing this at all. But you knew that you had to at least try.

So, with trembling hands, you held the ventilator fastened to his mouth, taking a deep breath before tugging it off. Batman, already knowing what you were about to do, let you pull it off him before pressing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Tears gathered underneath your lashes when you didn’t feel anything happen.

Just when you were about to pull away, Dick took a deep breath through his nose and panted against your mouth, kissing you more firmly. You couldn’t help the sob that bubbled out of your throat and he swallowed it without any qualms.

Even through bleary vision, you were able to make out his blue eyes and the small smile on his face. 

His hands came up to weakly cup for cheeks, gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs, “I missed you.”

You sniffled, letting more tears fall because you knew he’d be here to wipe them away, “I missed you too.”

***

Bonus:

You walked into the mess hall quietly. Dick had just fallen asleep in the Med Bay where he would be kept for a couple days under observation. It was past 1 in the night and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed but you had some unfinished business left to handle.

It was dark and it was hard to make out your surroundings until your eyes adjusted to the darkness. As you walked to the kitchen island, your eyes landed on the sorceress that had her head in her arms and wondered if she was asleep. Batman had said you were free to deal with her anyway you liked and that had been exactly your plan.

“He’s okay now, if you’re curious.” You told her. Her head shot up and she looked at you out of the corner of her eye before bowing it away shamefully. But you caught a glance at her face. She looked like she had been crying for hours, eyes bloodshot and face red and blotchy.

“Thank god.” She croaked out.

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m so so sorry, (Y/N).” Zatanna whimpered out before crying again, “You were right. I was jealous. And I did a crazy, wrong thing. And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed, nodding at her apology even though you knew she couldn’t see you. You weren’t sure if you accepted it, and you didn’t have to. For now, it could remain in the air.

“He really doesn’t love me....” She whispered out and you sighed once again, stepping up beside her and setting something on the table.

Zatanna glanced at the bottle of tequila and the two shot glasses you left. You didn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare straight ahead. You opened the bottle, pouring yourself a shot before tilting your head back and downing it, hissing at the burn.

“Obligatory break-up drink.” You mumbled, pouring her a shot and passing the glass to her.

She sniffled, looking at the glass in her hands before gulping it down. You took a deep breath, refilling the glasses. You still didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, just poured a refill when either of you finished and downed it in one gulp. The excitement from today and the tense feeling from sitting beside Zatanna kept you from getting drunk too early.

You two ended up finishing half the bottle, drinking in the dark until she passed out first and you followed soon after.

The others found you the next morning, passed out at the kitchen island, clutching empty shot glasses.

***

Bonus bonus:

Batman sighed, smelling the overwhelming scent of tequila as he came closer. None of them were able to wake either of you up. You were out cold, face scrunched up and head against the table in a position that would no doubt have your neck in a crick.

Zatanna was no better. Her hair was a mess, tequila spilt on her clothes and she was drooling all over the table, snoring unattractively.

“All this over a boy?”

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

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@emmacata

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@sometimeseverythingsucks

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@unstable1902

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@tadpole-san

[danielxricciardo]

Hello! I don’t know if you’re up for Carlos’ promt.😅 I’m really a fangirl😂 I always wanted to right fanfic but I was never good with words, and I always check up on your blog for new ones. I know there’s only one fanfic for Carlos atm, so if I Can I request like Carlos is jealous because Max is the character’s ex? Like they’re already engaged but Max is still trying to fight for her and Carlos is really jealous and mad? A bit of angst would be great🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 Thank youuuu!

You drew circles on Carlos's bare back in an attempt to wake him slightly. You looked at your ring finger on which now stood a beautiful diamond ring, the most beautiful you had ever seen, and memories of last night filled your mind and formed butterflies in your stomach.

When your best friend spontaneously took you to a shopping session followed by a manicure and pedicure appointment, you thought it was her way of spending time with you after she had been extremely busy with work for the past few months. It never occurred to you that Carlos might be up to something even when you saw that he and Lando's location was off. Why would you think Carlos was planning something? It was Tuesday, there were a few months until your birthday, Carlos' birthday had just passed, it wasn't your birthday, damn, it wasn't even your dog's birthday. Although, in retrospect, you had to realize that something was wrong. Your best friend in the mall on a Tuesday afternoon? She the one who goes to work even when she has the flu or when she broke her leg and had to keep it in plaster for two months.

But you didn't even realize his plan when your best friend bought you a gorgeous dress and made you wear it before you left for home. Honestly, you wouldn't look decent for an engagement just in ripped jeans and a T-shirt.

When she stopped in front of the house and stopped the engine you asked her what was going on but she just said she wanted to take the pair of jeans she had lent you a few months ago because she had a date and she wanted to wear them. You didn't pay much attention and opened the car door.

From the house you could see a very diffused and dim light. Candles? You thought then and you were tempted to think it was a power outage but the neighbors had light. Did I pay the current bill this month?

When you opened the door of the house and saw the rose petals on the floor you immediately thought of a romantic dinner with Spanish food, in no case did you expect to see Carlos on his knees in the middle of your living room. At that moment, everything made sense.

“You are the only one who understands me even more than myself. You are the only one with whom I can share everything, even my personal secrets. I want you to be with me always. I believe that if we’re lucky enough to have found each other in the first place, we’re worth betting on for life. Will, you hold my hand and be mine forever?” Carlos had said in a voice trembling with emotion and the ring in his hands.

You would never have answered otherwise than yes. You didn't even notice Lando in a corner of the living room filming everything or your best friend who was no longer behind you but somewhere to your right taking pictures.

Carlos, with trembling hands, put the ring on your finger and kissed you, his hands making room on your cheeks, wiping away your tears. You were happy. You have found your forever home.

You all opened a champagne and listened to how Carlos planned, with the help of your best friend, for three months, the whole engagement. He told you how close you were to turning all his plans upside down.

"I bought the ring when I was in Abu Dhabi for the Grand Prix," he says, and you remember that Grand Prix was three weeks ago. "When I bought it, I stayed with Lando, I think, for two hours in my hotel room, thinking about where to hide the ring so that you wouldn't find it when I returned home and it would be handy for me to take it out quickly and hide it at home. I finally decided to hide it in a pair of socks and put it in the small compartment of my bag. On my way home, however, I completely forgot that I put the ring in my bag. I was firmly convinced that it is in the backpack and when I got home you immediately took the bag to wash my clothes, as you always do. When I opened the backpack and saw that the ring was not there, I panicked extremely hard and ran to you to get the bag." he finishes telling the story and you start laughing.

You remembered that day perfectly.

"Is that why you were so white in the face? I really thought you were sick."

"Good morning, my beautiful fiancée." Carlos says in his harsh morning voice and looks at you with glassy eyes.

You smile at him and bend down to kiss him.

"Good morning, my wonderful fiancé."

He gets up in bed and hugs you.

"You have no idea how happy I am that I can hug you and say that you are mine now."

"And I was yours before, only now I have a ring on my finger."

"Mhm," Carlos says, muffled by your hair. "Now you have a ring on your finger that can keep Max away from you."

The smile on your face faded slowly. Max? What did Max have to do with your engagement? Sure, he's your ex-boyfriend, but you broke up three years ago.

It was a pretty hard breakup, more for him than for you. You broke up with him because you felt your relationship was no longer working. He didn't pay enough attention to you, you often quarreled and you felt like the love you had for him was fading with each passing day.

Max didn't comment on anything when you broke up with him, saying that it was better for both of you to go your separate ways.

That was until he saw you hand in hand with Carlos less than two months after the breakup. What he was feeling was a new feeling: jealousy. He couldn't understand the fact that you broke up with him and now you're in love with Carlos. When had this happened? Did Carlos like you when you were still together? Did you like him when you were in bed with him? He had many questions, but he would have died rather than asking you, showing you that he still cares about you.

So, he decided to ignore you, to ignore you both, hoping that your relationship won't last. But he saw you every day laughing at his jokes, he saw how he kissed the lips he had kissed until recently, how he held your hand that once caressed his hair.

It's true, lately Max and you have gotten closer. You have realized that there is no point in resentment between you considering that you see each other every day and, in the end, you are two responsible adults, you can behave nicely with each other.

Or so you thought. Carlos saw behind Max's actions. He saw how his touch on your shoulder lasted longer than normal, how in a room full of people Max is looking for you, he noticed that he always wants to know your opinion when he asks a question. Carlos realized pretty quickly that Max wants to win you back and he didn't tell you that just once.

How many times have you told Carlos that you don't care what Max's intentions are, that you love Carlos, he didn't seem to understand.

"What do you mean by that, Carlos?" you say annoyed. "Did you ask me to marry you to prove something to Max? To show him he has no chance of being with me?"

Carlos stood up and looked at you with wide eyes. You were angry, very angry and he knew he had said something wrong.

"No, of course not, love. I asked you to marry me because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Yeah, that's what you said last night in your speech. But now you're bringing Max up and I don't understand why. Did I do anything to make you doubt me?"

"No, no, of course not. You didn't do anything, love.

"You get out of bed and go to the bathroom.

"Then what is it? I keep hearing about Max. Max said that, Max did that, like Max is the third person in this relationship."

"I don't trust him!" he says in exasperation. "He's still trying to get under your skin and you allow him. I can't believe you don't see that he wants you back!"

"Carlos, for God's sake, do you hear yourself? He wants me back! Very well, let him want me for all I care! It's been three years since I broke up with him, don't you think I'd be back with him by now if that’s what I want? Understand that I can't control if he likes me or not, but I can control my feelings. And guess what, my heart chose you. So stop with this stupid jealousy!"

Carlos bites his lip and looks at you.

"You're right. I'm very sorry." he says and takes you in his arms. "Please forgive me, I'm very insecure because I love you so much and I don't want to ever lose you.

"You smile then kiss him.

"I am yours, forever."

"Forever."