#the duration of one train stop ok it's not. it's not normal to feel sharp jolts of pain through my body every time i cough or sneeze.

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch6

This editions of Hedwig’s scribbles brings you a young TOS Jeff.  I’ve come to the annoying realisation that my camera squashes things down so the original actually looks a bit longer and narrower than this picture.  Unfortunately my scanner makes everything too white and you lose half the image.  *Sigh*

@willow-salix​ has been her superstar self again with both the fic and the art, I don’t know what I would do without her as a sympathetic critic, putting up with all my wobbles.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Six

It didn’t take long for normality to return for Gordon.  He had given one or two carefully selected interviews in the lull between his medal win and the closing ceremony of the Games but any requests by magazines had been vetoed by Jeff since his return stateside.  Any approaches regarding sponsorship opportunities had been similarly turned away.  Initially the reporters clamoured for the chance to speak to the elusive young star but in the face of continued rejections the requests tailed off.  His obligations were decidedly minimal as he slipped from the public eye.  

With no school making its demands felt Gordon was able to concentrate fully on his swimming; the World Championships and a national competition were both on the horizon and gave him something to aim for.  He often found himself heading out for an additional run or putting in more time at the gym, this was partly to keep in peak condition and partly to escape the oppressive atmosphere in the apartment.  

He had gone from being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the Games with a team mate around every corner to home with its dwindling population.  

First Virgil had returned to Denver claiming he needed access to the technical facilities, then John had gone back to campus and finally Alan had been sent off to summer camp to spend time in the great outdoors.  If the messages coming Gordon’s way were anything to go by Alan was finding outdoors to be too full of bugs and too lacking in games consoles to be considered great.  

Now it was just him and his father.  Whenever they were in the apartment together he felt like he was under the microscope.  Being judged.  Being appraised.  He tended to stay in his room to avoid the attention.  With no one else around staying in his room was becoming a habit, even when Jeff was out at work.

He vaguely registered the click of the apartment door as his father returned but it was past dinner time and he had already eaten so he didn’t feel any need to emerge.  His father would likely be reading files late into the night.  He expected his contact to be limited to the standard ‘good night’ as he brushed his teeth before bed, he was therefore surprised when a sharp rap sounded on his door.

“Gordon.  My study.”

The footsteps retreated down the corridor leaving no opportunity to ask questions and he couldn’t think of anything he had done to warrant such a summons.  He also knew it didn’t do to keep his father waiting so he paused the film he was watching and made his way to the study.

The door was open so he went straight in.  His father’s big desk faced the doorway and Jeff was already sat back down behind it by the time Gordon entered.  He stepped up and patiently waited to be acknowledged, curious as to why he had been called for.  

“Gordon, I have to go out of town for a few days.”

“Ok.”  

“So you need to decide what you would rather do.  You have two choices; either I can arrange for you to join Alan at summer camp or you can go and stay with Virgil.”

“Honestly, you don’t need to do that.  I’ll be fine by myself for a few days.”

“You are not staying here alone,” Jeff’s voice was stern and intractable.

“I’m not a kid any more Dad.”

“Then maybe you should stop acting like one.  It’s time you grew up and started planning for the future.”

The thought that his father didn’t trust him alone in the house for a few days stung, especially given the number of times he had been responsible for not only himself but Alan too when their father got held up at the office until late.  He was seventeen, he had finished school and he had a gold medal.  Apparently none of that was enough to afford him the privilege of staying home alone.  The thought of being shipped off so his older brother could do babysitting duty was pretty bad but the idea of summer camp was much worse.  Being surrounded by kids mostly Alan’s age and having to take part in enforced activities was not appealing. 

“What about my swimming?”

“I’ve already spoken to your coach.  There are no major competitions for a few months so you can afford some fallow time.”

The thought that Jeff had bypassed him and gone straight to his coach was even more belittling.  It was like being ten years old again with the schedule of events stuck to the fridge and Jeff marking off which ones he could do based on the availability of a chaperone.  

“And you might need to ease up on your swimming anyway.  Now that high school is over you need to work out where you are headed in life.”

And there it was.  The not so subtle reminder that his father didn’t consider swimming to be a viable career prospect.  Even with an Olympic gold and a world record to his name, professional athlete was not on the list of Jeff Tracy approved jobs.  Everything he had worked for just diminished and relegated to the status of hobby.  That’s not to say that his father hadn’t been genuinely proud of his success so far but it was like he had reached the pinnacle and now it was time to move on.  It was one thing to have an Olympian as a son but the next Games were four years away and there was no knowing if Gordon would maintain his position in the world rankings.  World championships had their prestige in the sporting world but didn’t have the same gravitas as the Olympics to non-sporting folks.

Even if the uncertainty of future successes could be put aside Jeff had also made it abundantly clear that he disapproved of the selfishness of the sporting world.  Athletic success didn’t improve the world beyond providing entertainment.  It wasn’t a career that would make a difference.  It wasn’t useful, and just lately usefulness had become an overriding theme in the Tracy household.  

“I’m waiting, Gordon.  Which is it to be?”

He wanted to scream and shout but if there was one way Gordon was a Tracy through and through it was in his ability to keep his emotions contained in the face of adversity, or at least repressed until he was in a safe space.  Only Alan was yet to learn the skill; his youngest sibling wore his heart on his sleeve and Gordon often admired him for the way he could express himself freely, even if it sometimes led to blazing rows with their patriarch.   His broad shoulders slumped a little.  It was a done deal that he was being sent away for the duration of his father’s business trip.  He knew there was no point arguing and antagonising his father.

“Denver, please.”  Gordon’s normally cheerful voice was carefully neutral, a testament to the feelings he was keeping in check.  He wondered if he would ever be afforded the privilege of being treated like an adult or whether he would forever be a child in his father’s eyes; a person to be managed and directed rather than trusted as an individual.

Having received an answer Jeff considered the interview concluded and turned back to his tablet to book the required flight.  He might have a private jet at his disposal but he would need that for his own trip.  Gordon would be flying commercial, as usual.  An early morning flight was soon arranged and Jeff was able to return to his work, scrolling through the multitude of files related to his latest project.  He looked up to reach for his coffee and seemed surprised that Gordon was still stood in front of him.

“Go and pack, Gordon.”

Summarily dismissed Gordon returned to his room.  Clothes and toiletries were thrown haphazardly into a bag.  He took his anger out on the drawers of his dresser, yanking them out and slamming them shut.  The clothes hangers in his closet rattled and tumbled to the floor as he yanked down shirts.  He looked at his Team USA kit; the formal blazer and whites covered in a protective dust jacket next to the tracksuit worn poolside between heats.  The uniform was a painful reminder of his achievement that already seemed to be forgotten by the father he tried so hard to please.  The garments were thrown to the floor of the closet to lay in a crumpled heap on top of his shoes.

Just a few short weeks ago those two outfits had symbolised his achievements.  Proof that, as far as America was concerned, he was worthy.  He remembered the thrill of pulling on the garments for the first time, the cut of the blazer emphasising his broad chest and shoulders.  They were his uniform.  His battle dress.  After the Games he had carefully hung them up as a reminder of everything he had worked for, a sign that all the sacrifices had been worth it.  Now they screamed failure rather than success.  Failure to live up the narrow ideals of his father.  He kicked out at a trailing sleeve that had flopped over the threshold of the closet then slammed the door on the rumpled mess.

Gordon flung himself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.  He knew he was acting the petulant teenager his father viewed him as but sometimes it was hard not to revert to type when you never had the opportunity to prove yourself to be anything different.  Anger bubbled up inside him.   Just because he wasn’t like the others with their perfect grades and traditional life choices it felt like he would never be allowed to make his own decisions.  Even the career he had strived towards and made so many sacrifices for was being slowly taken away.  How dare his father speak to his coach about training commitments.  How dare he sideline the one talent Gordon possessed.  In all other areas he was measured up and found wanting but the medal above his bed and the world record in the history books were irrefutable evidence that he could make his mark in the world and be an individual in his own right.

The seething injustice coloured Gordon’s dreams that night.  His sleep was restless and more than once his legs became twisted in the sheets, dragging him back to wakefulness in order to free the constricting restraints.  When the morning alarm marked the end of the night, disturbing his dozing form and forcing away the last vestiges of sleep Gordon felt distinctly unrefreshed.  However, years of practice at taking himself to early morning swimming training meant he was able to resist the temptation to stay in bed and so he was ready, bag in hand, when the car arrived to take him to the airport.  Evidently his father’s commitments were too heavy to allow him to perform this duty and Gordon was graced with only a brief goodbye before being handed into the custody of a driver.

xoxoxox

Denver was tiny compared to Los Angeles.  It was still a sprawling metropolis compared to the backwater towns of Kansas but Gordon instantly felt more at home in the mid-western air.  He felt like he could finally breathe again.  He had never felt settled in Los Angeles with its inescapable traffic and permanent glow.  A city that never slept.   

When he had first been told of the move to the coast he had been excited at the prospect of living so close to the ocean that held his fascination.  It was an odd obsession for a boy brought up as far from the sea as it was possible to get but Gordon had always felt drawn to water in all its forms.  The few coastal holidays they had managed were filled with happy memories of rock pooling, snorkelling and learning the dangers of his beautiful aquatic mistress but in Gordon’s eyes the Los Angeles waterfront was a shallow imitation of what the barrier between land and sea should be.  The sculpted beaches filled with sculpted bodies held no appeal.  After one visit shortly after arriving in the city Gordon never went down to the waterfront again.

Virgil was there to meet him in the airport arrival’s lounge.  Dressed in his habitual plaid he was easy to spot.  Gordon soon found himself relieved of his bag as Virgil swung it over one shoulder with ease.  It wasn’t that Virgil thought him incapable, it was just the way he was.  Brother or not, Gordon was his guest and carrying your guest’s bag was a courtesy that had been instilled in each of them from an early age.  A brotherly arm was draped across his shoulders and he found himself drawn into a brief embrace before they walked companionably towards the taxi rank.

It didn’t take long to reach Virgil’s apartment which was situated a short stroll from campus.  The campus itself was still eerily quiet, mostly populated by faculty and a few postgrads like Virgil who had stuck around to work on projects.  Term, and the influx of undergraduates that came with it, was yet to start.  The streets surrounding the campus were free of the term time hustle and bustle created by the transient student population and the area had a calm serenity that contrasted sharply to the buzzing city Gordon had recently left.

The apartment was the epitome of masculine design, each item of furniture or decoration a clear reflection of its occupant.  There was an eclectic mix of high end items and junk store finds, set off by hand crafted pieces made by Virgil himself.  Comfortable, functional and strong, the whole ensemble coordinated perfectly.  Virgil’s habitat had grown organically over his few years of occupation, it was now as warm and friendly as its owner and a place that you couldn’t help but relax in.

It felt more homely than the Los Angeles apartment which always had an air of echoing emptiness.  Jeff had wanted to ensure that his older boys had a space to come back to and call their own and with money no object the city pad he had procured was obscenely large for a place normally occupied by just three people.  The executive styling added to the cold and impersonal air of the place.  It was an environment where people co-existed rather than lived and the extra rooms for absent siblings only seemed to enhance the feeling of loneliness.  It felt good to be in Denver rather than Los Angeles, even if the reason for the visit stung.

Gordon sat down on the couch, bouncing slightly to test its springiness.  The apartment was a compact, one bedroomed affair and he knew the couch would be his bed for the next few nights.  The sound of a coffee maker and the chink of mugs from the kitchen showed that Virgil still had his caffeine addiction and the warm aroma of good coffee was soon filling the space, adding to the general air of comfort.  Before many minutes had passed his brother was back beside him and two brimming mugs sat steaming the coffee table 

“Hey, so you decided to come check out my school.  It’s a great place here, you’ll love it.  I can show you around all the labs and things while it’s still quiet, maybe introduce you to some of the faculty depending on what area you want to specialise in.”

Virgil’s enthusiasm was met with stunned bewilderment.

“Dad said you were looking at college, right?” he probed, tentatively. 

Evidently this trip wasn’t just about Gordon not being trusted at home.  Even from afar his father was making his intentions clear and pushing his own agenda of what he expected of his sons.  Virgil watched as the teenager in front of him stiffened, a defensive shell seeming to rise up around Gordon and a sullen look appeared across the features which had seemed so relaxed and at ease until that point. 

“No, Dad just didn’t want me staying home alone.  Look, I’m sure it’s great for you but I’ve got no plans for college at all.  In case you hadn’t noticed I’m not exactly college material.”

Witnessing the self-depreciation from his brother stung.  Busy lives meant he hadn’t spent much time alone with Gordon in the last few years.  The young man in front of him was clearly hurting and Virgil’s caring nature was screaming at him to make it better but he felt woefully ill-equipped to counsel the troubled teen.  

“I’m sure that’s not true.  You’d be able to go to college if you wanted to.  You’re smart; you were hardly at school the last two years and you still managed to graduate with good marks.”

Gordon turned sorrowful eyes on his brother, he had never been able to be angry with Virgil and fighting with the gentle giant didn’t come naturally.  There was something about Virgil that reminded him of Mom; something that invited him to open up, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be judged.

“And what if it’s not what I want?  Sometimes it feels like I don’t have any say in my life.  Dad wants me to stop swimming.  Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

Truth be told, Virgil didn’t.  He had only ever met encouragement for his plans, he had been supported and his passions had been indulged.  Music lessons and art classes had co-existed with school, ensuring he had a therapeutic release from his more traditional studies.  His desire to study engineering had been greeted with enthusiasm and a generous allowance.  To hear that a brother was being expected to give up their passion was a surprise to him.

“I’m sure Dad only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, it always comes down to what Dad wants.”  There was a snort of derision.  “But news flash Virgil, I’m not like the rest of you.  I’m never going to get into Harvard or Yale or anywhere else Dad would approve of.  And I don’t want to.  I have one thing I’m good at and now that’s being taken away.”

“I’m sure that’s not true Gordo, there are lots of things you’re good at.  Look, maybe college isn’t the right place for you but don’t sell yourself short.  It sounds like you and Dad just need some space apart from each other for a bit.  He’s got a lot on at the moment, there’s a big project in the pipeline and you know how focussed he can get when that happens.  You know, you are always welcome here if you need some breathing space.  And I promise, no campus tour unless you want it.”

“Thanks Virg.  Maybe a break will do me good.  It’s all just so tense back home.”

Gordon felt a heavy arm slung over his shoulders as he was drawn in to a hug that held more meaning than the brief embrace of greeting he had received earlier.  Virgil had always been the most free of the siblings in showing his love physically.  With Virgil moved out Gordon couldn’t remember the last time he had received a hug from anyone other than Alan and those were becoming more rare and awkward as the pair aged. 

His initial instinct was to push away but he didn’t want to hurt Virgil’s feelings.  He could feel the beating of the larger man’s heart and he found the rhythm soothing.  The tension he hadn’t even realised he was carrying began to slowly dissipate and he melted into the soft cotton of Virgil’s shirt.  He took a few deep breaths to steady himself before slowly pushing himself out of the embrace.  

“Better?”

He nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak.

Gordon settled back and savoured the coffee.  Perhaps the time in Denver wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

[thekidultlife]

Oppa-ya | Jihoon Idol!AU | Part 3

(A/N: a lot of you guys wanted me to continue this haha but I was really hesitant bc this is bone dry angst than fluff. I was even sincerely hurt as I wrote this lol. Anyway one angsty chapter coming right up.)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“Are you still having trouble with that guy you liked?”

That question suddenly popped out of nowhere one night as the two of you casually lounged at the sofa in Bumzu’s studio for a break. He was playing some soccer game in the PS while you munched on a lollipop with your sharp canines—different from how you two seemed to be back in the recording room.

The weeks suddenly turned stressful when Pledis announced an All Star concert featuring all of Pledis’ artists that Seungkwan wasn’t even able to execute his plans. You and Jihoon were assigned to produce a song which will be sung by everybody at the encore, which, of course, should be a masterpiece yet for now, nothing really came up.

So when Jihoon threw that question to you, you almost choked on the shards of broken lollipop in your mouth and struggled to spit out a reply.

“…well, it’s still pretty much the same. I can’t really do anything if we’re like this. I’ll probably just wait for a miracle,” you told him with a defeated chuckle.

“Why don’t you just tell him? Who knows you two might actually work out,” Jihoon said as he scored a goal in the video game he was playing while you watched him with an eyebrow arched.

“Now you sound just like Hanna,” you lightly laughed at his amused face. “The thing is, I’m afraid I might get hurt and I especially don’t want him hurt.”

“Wow,” Jihoon remarked sarcastically with a tiny grin on his lips as his dimples appeared. “But as far as I know, relationships always involve getting hurt. So instead of regretting that you two didn’t end up together, it’s better to be hurt because you can proudly say that you two actually became a thing.”

You knew he had a point but you were too stubborn to accept that you were doing something foolish. In end, you just brushed it off with a joke.

“Wise words from the one and only Lee Jihoon,” you teased him as he tried to avoid your finger poking his sides to distract him from the game. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

“By the way, Y/N, are you busy this Saturday?” Jihoon again asked you as you began recalling your schedule.

“Apart from a LieV later on that evening, then…nothing. I’m free, why?”

“Ah, if it’s like that, would you want to come with me?”

Jihoon abruptly asked you so nonchalantly that you thought you had to do a double take and process everything in your mind first.

Is he…is he asking me on a date?

“Come with you? Where?” you cautiously asked back; your heart beating rapidly at Mach speed, your breath holding on to his every word.

“Oh, just lunch. So you in?”

“Seriously? He asked you for lunch?!”

Hanna, Hazel and Leigh were almost shouting at the top of their voices in your group’s dorm that you had to cover up their mouths and profusely told them to shut up.

“Yes, now be quiet,” you told them as you sipped your cola with an annoyed glare. “He casually invites his friends for lunch so don’t make it so big of a deal.”

“Yeah sure, he invites the vocal unit for some samgyeopsal but he never invites girls for lunch,” Hanna reasoned out but you tried to ignore her. Despite that, you can’t deny that you were feeling hopeful.

“You should dress nice!” Leigh suggested excitedly as everyone agreed except you who only scowled.

“I ain’t going shopping,” you hissed at them yet they simply smirked at you.

“Tomorrow is a day off, right? Let’s hit Hongdae! It’s been a while since I’ve been there!” Hazel chimed in as she kept on rocking you back and forth.

“Then you guys go. I plan on doing some composing tomorrow,” you replied as you got off the bed but Hazel merely dragged you back with one pull.

“NO! You will look pretty in that date so you will be coming with us tomorrow!”

“I told you, it’s not a date!”

The off-white dress looked terribly complimenting on you as you faced yourself in front of the mirror. You didn’t want to prepare yourself so much for your lunch with Jihoon later but here you are daydreaming about how your date will proceed. No it’s definitely not a date.

“This is so wrong…” you whispered to yourself but you did your make up so well that anyone would have thought a professional have done it. You wore your best shoes, your best perfume, your best in everything—in conclusion, you prepared for your date so eagerly that you could no longer deny it.

When the doorbell rang a quarter to eleven, you hid the fact that you were actually excited and opened the door to see Jihoon looking very casual with just a green button up and jeans. The moment he saw you, Jihoon felt his eyes widen in surprise that his mouth only opened and then closed, and then opened once again.

“Hey, are you ok?” you asked him with a wave of your hand as he broke off from his state of shock.

“O-oh, hey…um…wow, you actually dressed up,” he muttered as he gave you another look while you stubbornly stopped the stupid smile forming on your lips.

“Hanna and the others bribed me to wear this,” you clarified as you closed the door behind you and put on your coat as Jihoon nodded in understanding.

“Ah, so that explains. Anyway, let’s go,” he told you and started walking towards the elevators.

However, instead of a delightful date like what you hoped for, life isn’t really that kind. Everything in that whole duration of two hours and forty-three minutes became just a blur to you like one of those Impressionist paintings hanging behind your seat in the restaurant that morning.

“Jihoon, wow! You look so grown up now!”

“You don’t really stop with the teasing, noona.”

Surprise.

Disappointment.

 “But you would still humor me anyway. Oh, you brought your girlfriend?”

“No, no. We’re just friends, right Y/N?”

Pain. Hide it. Smile like how you were trained.

 “Y/N, I want you to meet Seulgi-noona. She’s one of my closest friends back in Busan.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you! So you’re also an idol? I haven’t really updated myself these days.”

 Small talk. Music in the background. Glasses clinking.

Big smiles. Hidden glances you noticed. Pain. Hurt.

 “Her group is really popular these days, you might have even heard their songs playing in public places.”

“Ah yes, I’ve actually heard your songs before! Wow! I would have never thought that I would meet two idols today. Anyway Jihoonie, you’re still composing songs?”

 Flustered. Red ears. Embarrassed and shy. Bashful. Small smiles. His dimples.

 “Well yeah…I’m one of the producers of Seventeen’s songs so…”

“That’s really great! I knew pushing you to go to Seoul was the right thing to do! But I’m sorry if I haven’t contacted you for a long time. I was so busy with university and all.”

“Ah so that’s why you haven’t recognized me right away. But I returned to Busan a few years ago and you weren’t there anymore.”

 Realization. One Fine Day in Japan. Disappointment. Hurt. Pain.

Hide. Hide. Laugh.

 “Actually that’s why I wanted to see you.”

“Why? Are you in any problem? I can help.”

“No, honestly, it’s not a problem. I’m here…I just wanted to give you this.”

 Silence. His smile fading. He’s hiding. Let’s hide.

“Oh. You’re…you’re getting married.”

“Yes, I moved in with my fiancé a few years back that’s why I left Busan. Anyway, I really hope you’ll come…oh and Y/N, you can also come too! I really like you.”

Silence. Background noise. Cars honking. Streets filled with people.

02hrs 43min 12sec 7ms

END

The muted noises faded away and your ears seemed to return to normal and you finally realized that you two were walking back towards your dorm in comforting silence.

“Jihoon-oppa.”

“What is it?” he replied to you as he buried the fancy envelope in his coat as he also buried his emotions deep inside.

“Seulgi-unnie isn’t just a close friend, is she?” you asked as you braced yourself for the impact.

“Seulgi-noona…she’s…,” Jihoon paused for a while, sighing as he can’t really contain anything anymore. “Well…she’s my first love.”

You smiled bitterly as your eyes threatened to wet themselves but you were better at keeping your feelings at bay.

“I saw you staring at her earlier,” you teased with a fake grin on your lips but Jihoon didn’t spare you a glance.

“Hm. Really?”

“Well then, how do you feel about her getting married?” you asked again, torturing yourself. I’m becoming a masochist.

“I don’t know.”

You hummed at his terrible answer; faking playful curiosity. You were after all a better actor than Jihoon.

“Do you still like her?” you asked straightforwardly, this time pursing your lips as you desperately tried to hold off all of your emotions.

“I…I just don’t know! She’s my first love Y/N! I grew up loving her! Do you think it’s that easy to forget?”

Jihoon finally burst everything that he has kept from the moment he laid eyes upon that invitation card to the time Seulgi waved him a goodbye; looking never so satisfied in her life than the present.

“Whenever I go home to Busan, it’s her I remember! She’s in everything I see back there—in our yard, in the port where we played with the boats, in the corner store as I buy popsicles! She’s the one who persuaded me into becoming who I am! But now she’s going to marry someone! And I’m even fucking invited! How am I supposed to move on?!”

He was huffing by the time he ranted his heart out as you stood there in the middle of the deserted street looking at him who was so desperately in love with someone else who he could never be with.

It must have been your way of comforting him or your way of comforting yourself—you walked towards him and enveloped him into an embrace; placing his head on your shoulder and patted his back. Jihoon would normally recoil at the sudden skinship but everything was in chaos that your warmth felt really inviting. 

“You still do love her,” you remarked as you again bit your lip to stop the tears. Not here. Not here. Please.

“…I don’t know,” Jihoon replied and removed himself from you and walked onwards.  

“Yes you do, you idiot.”

“Wow. How are you still alive after that?”

Seungkwan commented as he took a sip from his iced americano with Leigh and Hanna looking solemn beside him.

“Well, it’s not the end of the world. I can live with that,” you replied with confidence in your voice; the straw of your iced latte between your lips.

“You’re so stubborn,” Hanna remarked as she tapped the table; thinking.

“No, I just refuse to mope around all day just because he likes someone else,” you defended yourself with a bite on your tone. “Besides, I don’t want to be like those idiots flirting behind us.”

“You’re also bitter,” Seungkwan added with an annoyed expression. “Look Y/N, crying doesn’t make you look weak, okay?”

“I already cried last night and it’ll be the last time I will. This is stupid,” you replied as everyone sighed at your mulish behavior.

“If you need someone who’ll listen to you we’re here, Y/N,” Leigh told you as she patted your back with a small smile. “If you want, we can watch that crime show you always wanted!”

You shook your head as you stood up and gathered your things.

“Thanks, but maybe some other time. I’m off to the studio,” you told them as you left in a haste.

Seungkwan watched your retreating back as Hanna took a sip from her drink, also exhausted from taking in all of your bullshit.  

“Something tells me that this isn’t over.”

-Admin Hyeri