#the lighting is ass (i decided not to add the candle stick / the light source)

[paintednettle]

I was inflicted with a brain worm and have been staring at this man for days. Apparently I enjoy suffering because 99% of this was painted with a solid round brush.

[vin-taege]

low expectations | 2

summary: after disappearing for six years to pursue law, you come back to Seoul, only to be hired by Jeon Jungkook, tattoo artist on the rise, and your high school ex

genre: angst, eventual smut, l2e2l (lovers to enemies [kinda?] to lovers)

pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x lawyer!reader

words: 4 600+

The clock read 3:35 am. You were up all night researching about the rival tattoo shop, Soliloquy. So far, there were only page advertisements and a ton of articles gushing about the shop. But "Seoul Ink" was also almost in every article - a "threat” to the long-running business, as the media would say. They had little to no detail too, and after a while, they all seemed to be saying the same thing. So you decided to shift gears and search more on Jung Minho himself. Not much was known of him, not even his educational background. Trivial things like height, weight, and age were listed. There were a few pages dedicated to fawning over him, seeing as he Was undeniably attractive. He looked just about Namjoon's age, striking cheekbones and a pierced tongue he'd often flash at the camera. You sighed, ready to give up. You've been clicking every link you came across, and Namjoon wasn't done with the suspect profile yet. The coffee you made had grown cold and your wrists had also started to ache. You were already on the 5th page of Google. You were desperate. Just as you were going to shut down your laptop,  Jungkook's words echoed in your mind, "I'm finally doing something I love." You shook your head, willing yourself to stay awake just a little longer. In a last attempt, you skimmed over a few more links until one caught your eye. "Gwangju Rapper Under Fire for Drug Scandal" 

You sat up, suddenly wide awake. The article was from four years ago, but you didn't know if the source was trustworthy. It was a news archive, and the web design was a little off, making you doubt its legitimacy. You read it, nonetheless, and picked up a lot of crucial information. Why in the world would this even show up in Jung Minho's search results? You clicked the picture of the rapper, a shiver running down your spine with the striking similarities he had with the Soliloqy head. Coincidentally, the rapper's career ended just a month before the first Soliloqy branch was built. You bookmarked the tab, and thought of calling Namjoon. However, another glance at the clock told you he was probably fast asleep by now, and you didn't want to wretch him away from his rest. Speaking of sleep, your eyes were already starting to droop. Maybe it was better to deal with everything tomorrow. It was still your month off anyway. °°° 6 years ago There was a loud knock on your window, waking you from your slumber. Your head had been buried in printer paper, what would be half of your book report on the novel "Animal Farm." It has only been three days since your mother began her temporary stay at your father's house, but she's already become unbearably pushy when it came to your studies. She was only staying for a week, but that was four days too long for you. You could still hear the knocking, but you were too sleepy to respond. Until it got louder. Lifting your head off your desk, you squinted at the window, the lamp light piercing your eyes. Your vision adjusted until you could make out a mope of brown hair pressed against the window pane. You rubbed your eyes, hurriedly getting up from your chair to open the window. "What are you doing here?" Your voice was still groggy from sleeping. The second you got a closer look at him, your heart stopped. The stench of alcohol was on his breath, and he was sweating like he ran a marathon. To top it all off, he was crying. He stumbled into your room, half walking, half getting carried by you and plopped down onto the bed. Sprawled over the covers, he let out a throaty groan, quickly getting hushed by you. "Jungkook! Don't be so loud!" you hissed. "What are you doing here?" He cracked open an eye, lazily tilting his head up to look at you. Suddenly, he smiled, hugging you and pulling you down with him. Your cheek was squished against his chest, his arms squeezing your torso. "My honey, baby, love of my life, sweetheart, darling." You tried pushing him off, initially disgusted by the overpowering scent of alcohol. Jungkook was oblivious to your discomfort, only beginning to sob harder. Hearing his cries, you stopped struggling, sliding your hands up to curl around his neck instead. You laid there, waiting for him to calm down. It was silent for a moment before his voice broke through the dead air. "I don't think I'm going to college." He took a shaky breath. "I got into an argument with my dad. I told him I didn't want to go to med school. I told him I'd hate it there. He- he kicked me out. My mom didn't even care." Your heart started to pound along with his. Oh no. No. Your mother already dreaded him because he was planning to be an art student, but now that he would possibly drop out, you knew she'd never approve. It would be unacceptable for her. Not only that, but what would happen to Jungkook now? What about your future? "What do you mean you got kicked out?" you said in a small voice. He gently nudged you off him so he could sit up. He began fiddling with his thumbs. "I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't have any money. ___, I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking failure. Fuck!" He slammed his hands down on the bed, the springs squeaking. You flinched, the sudden aggression scaring you.. "Jungkook, stop. You're drunk." "I broke a fucking vending machine," he mumbled as if it was an afterthought. “I didn’t have money for beer.” "You what?!" you hit his shoulder, making him curse out, more of in surprise rather than pain. "Do you know how illegal that is, Jeon? You get kicked out and the first thing you do is commit a crime?" "Well, what do you expect me to do?! We don't all have perfect lives, ___. I went here and I thought you could kiss the pain away or some shit, and you're gonna fucking lecture me about street etiquette?" he scoffed. "Why are you so up your ass sometimes?" "Sometimes I don't know why you just can't manage to get your shit together. I want to support you, Kook, I really do. But sometimes you're just so fucking impulsive!" you didn't even realized you had raised your voice. Jungkook was staring at you with wide eyes, jaw clenched. You thought he was going to retort, maybe even scream back at you, but he remained silent. Unshed tears welled at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his hand, swiftly standing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here." He moved towards your window, a leg raised up, ready to leave. You grabbed him by the forearm, tugging him back. "Wait, I'm sorry. Kookie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said." You hugged him from the back, ignoring the sweat sticking to his shirt. "We're gonna get through this, okay? You still have me. You still have Tae. I'm sure you can work something out with your brother. But stay with me for now, okay?" Slowly, he leaned forward and shut the window. He let you lead him back to the bed, not even bothering to shower with how tired he was. Without another word, he curled up next to you, trying to fall asleep. On sleepless nights, you'd call him on the phone and he'd sing for you. This time, even though your voice couldn't hold a candle to his, you returned the favor, not stopping until you heard his calm, deep breaths. °°°

"So you're telling me-" Namjoon paused, stirring his cup of coffee. He had come early today to help you unpack, while also going over the case. "That rapper and the Jung Minho may or may not be the same person?" "They almost look exactly like each other." You turned the laptop over to him, bringing up the picture. His eyes widened, spoon hovering just above the coffee. "Don't you think it's kinda fishy our probable suspect, who may I add, planted drugs in the ink refills, looks exactly like this rapper from four years ago who got caught in a drug scandal?" Namjoon shrugged. He leaned over the kitchen counter and read the article, eye brows furrowing further after each line. "Honestly, that is weird. Hm. But you know what's weirder? You reaching the sixth page of Google."

You glared at him, continuing to unpack your kitchen utensils. "Excuse me, but I am dedicated to my job." "You mean dedicated to your ex?" you sputtered, almost dropping the knife holder. Namjoon smirked at you. "I've been talking to Jimin, and he told me some really interesting stuff." Of course it was Jimin. That man was too charismatic for his own good. "Please don't remind me." Namjoon took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when it burnt his tongue. He made his way to the sink and gargle some water, sighing when it somewhat relieved the pain. "___, you could've told me, you know? I mean, we could've averted this whole thing if that's what you wanted." "No, Joon. It's okay, I don't regret taking this case. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I guess I just don't like talking about it much," Namjoon looked at you, saw how tired you looked. Both physically and emotionally. "Come here," he opened his arms, and you gladly hugged him. His scent was welcoming, like that of new books mixed with citrus from the scented hand sanitizer he kept in his bag. "I think you need more hugs and less work." "Joon, I think I want to get my ex back," you mumbled into his sweater. You heard him sigh before letting you go. "As your assistant, I'd say this is probably a bad decision. As your best friend, I'd say this is definitely a bad decision but do what you think will make you happy." You ate breakfast quickly, eager to dive into the article more, even though you had already read it multiple times. Nostalgia hit you - it felt like it was a thesis night again, you and Namjoon scouring every corner of the Internet just to fill the Related Studies part. Ironically, a cheetos bowl was by the laptop, reminiscent of your college days. The rapper's stage name was a lead in itself, however he seems to be off the grid. The only other pictures left of him were blurry ones taken from afar. All of his music wasn't uploaded on the Internet, save for pictures of the CD cover. It was so suspicious how underground he was. Namjoon bookmarked the pages and copy-pasted all the needed pictures and information. It was a bit of a stretch, but so far, it was the only connection you could make with Jung. After a while, Namjoon cracked his knuckles and faced you. "I know this is pretty random, but can you come with me to the tattoo shop today?" "Why? I thought we couldn't get an interview today because they were booked. Did all their clients simultaneously agree to ditch their appointments?" "No," he laughed. "I'm getting a tattoo." You almost spit your coffee out. You looked at him, waiting for him to burst out laughing and tell you it was a joke - but he never did. "What do you mean you're getting a tattoo? Aren't we forbidden to get those?" "Wrong again. We could, but just somewhere we could hide it. I'm getting it on my inner forearm." It was the perfect spot, especially since he owns an abundance of long-sleeved tops. "And you're getting this because...?" "Because I’ve actually been thinking of getting a tattoo since last year. And I've been needing a break from being so... upright and formal" You didn't press for a further explanation. The whole “professional lawyer thing really was tiring. "Welcome to Seoul Ink, home of the best ink!" Jimin's cheerful voice greeted you. The pink lighting was turned off, letting the sunlight shine through the glass. The music playing was softer this time, matching the calm afternoon vibe. "Hi Namjoon! Hi, ___!" He wiggled his eyebrows when he greeted you, making your roll your eyes. Namjoon headed directly toward the designs placed on the walls, quickly spotting the one he was staring at yesterday. "How much for this one?" "30 000 won. Discounted, just for you," Jimin stood next to Namjoon. "Could be done in under thirty minutes. Are you walk-in, or would you want to place a schedule?" "Walk-in." "Shit. Would you mind waiting for a bit? The next open spot is," He checked his phone, before looking back at the taller male. "-in five hours." Namjoon sighed, face dropping - when suddenly, Jimin's phone beeped and his eyes lit up. "Actually, you're in luck. Tae's client cancelled last minute." As if on cue, Taehyung walked out from behind the hallway curtain. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets seeing how much he's changed. His hair was colored blue, in contrast to Jimin's. He had full sleeves, and a small butterfly tattoo just under his jawline, by the side of his neck. The bandana he was wearing held his hair back, giving you a good look of the multiple piercings on his left ear, not to mention the one on his lip. "___?" Before you could reply, he was already running towards you, pulling you in for a tight hug. You chuckled hugging him back, always so affectionate even back the. You could feel the muscle he has gained, compared to his lanky built back in high school. “I didn't believe Jungkook at first, but wow! You look great!" "Tae," Jimin snapped his fingers, gaining Taehyung's attention. "Hyunjin backed out, but you've got a new client. Rosehead design. Tatt virgin so go easy on him."

“Why did no one tell me ___ was gonna be our lawyer?”

“I did. I told you four times, Taehyung,” Jimin rubbed his temples. His words fell on deaf ears, Taehyung still mesmerized by the mere sight of you. Six years ago, he never would’ve thought he’d see you again, but here you were. Fate had a way of bringing people together.

“Are you getting one too?” His voice was deeper, as if it wasn’t already deep before. You were relieved to find out he was more than welcoming to you, even after what you made him do. You shook your head. “Just Namjoon hyung then.”

Taehyung led you into his work room, the door of it being the one bombarded with polaroids and fairy lights. You never got the chance to look at the pictures, and now that you did, your eyes were immediately drawn to one near the upper left. 

It was an old one, dating way back to high school. You knew because you were in it - face lit up with a bright smile, mid-laugh. Sitting next to you was Jungkook, mirroring your happy expression as he held a barbecue stick up. You recognized it from your prom night. Jungkook didn’t have enough money to rent a suit, making him pass on prom. You and Taehyung decided to ditch it, having a small barbecue party in his backyard instead.

You sensed someone staring at you, and turned your head to find Taehyung. He was startled, sending you a goofy expression afterwards.

Namjoon sat on the soft reclining chair, trying his best to make himself comfortable. Taehyung was humming as he did the preliminaries; getting the design ready and sterilizing the needles to be used, including turning on a lamp with normal lighting so he could see better. “I have some bubblegum in case you want some. It serves as a pain outlet.”

He handed you a small bowl full of gumballs, then continued to prep the tools and Namjoon. The older of the two boys shoved in two gumballs, jittery even before the procedure began. 

“You didn’t take any energy drinks or coffee before this, right?” Taehyung rubbed Namjoon’s inner forearm with a cloth dipped in alcohol. He paled, eyes widening, “Am I not supposed to?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “That’s why you’re so nervous. Well, this is just a flash tattoo. No color, easy lineart. It’s going to be a walk in the park!” He smacked Namjoon on the shoulder a little too hard, making him yelp.

“Tae, Jimin said go easy,” you murmured, though you still got your phone out. Namjoon’s reaction while getting his first tattoo was too hilarious to no film. 

“I will,” he plugged the cord into an outlet, the tattoo gun roaring to life. “Okay, lawyer hyung, I need you to relax because this would only hurt more if you don’t.”

Twenty minutes in, and you were positive Namjoon had cried out for his mother exactly thirty times so far. A thick wad of chewed up bubblegum was in his mouth, and it was only getting bigger. Taehyung on the other hand, was fully composed, eyebrows knit in concentration. 

You tried talking to Namjoon to ease the pain, but he either couldn’t form a coherent response, or wasn’t listening to you altogether. Presently, his eyes were screwed shut as he fiercely rapped along to an Eminem song playing in the background. 

“I missed you. He missed you too. A lot,” You almost didn’t catch Taehyung say it. His eyes were still on his work, but he continued. “I still feel bad for doing it, but I couldn’t chose sides. You’re both my best friends.”

You shot a worried glance at Namjoon. Although Taehyung wasn’t looking at you, he spoke again, “Don’t worry. His nerves are making this more painful than it actually is, and he’s so far into the pain he probably won’t even recall us talking.”

You cleared your throat. “Are you mad at me?”

Taehyung chuckled, pausing to lightly shake his head. “I could understand why you did it. I genuinely am happy for how far you’ve come.”

“Is he...?” you trailed off, scared to know the answer. You didn’t have to say his name for Taehyung to know who you were referring to.

“He’s sad. Bitter, I think? I guess he thought it was a good idea to channel all that sadness into anger. You know how he is,” he sighed. “He still loves you though.”

His words made you freeze. He cracked his neck, soft brown eyes looking back at you, before going back to his work. “Did you know the main thing that motivated him so much was you? It was always you he talked about. He always said he wanted to prove himself to you.”

“He doesn’t need to do that.”

“I know. I kept telling him that, but I think it would be better if you did.” Taehyung worked in silence, save for Namjoon’s garbled rapping and the buzz of the tattoo gun. From time to time, he’d encourage Namjoon with an “Almost there!” or “You’re doing well, hyung!”, but Namjoon tuned everything out. He really was too into his head.

“Tae, I still love him,” you rushed out. The younger boy raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I want him back,” He smirked, turning the gun off. He clasped his hands loudly, making Namjoon jump lightly from his seat. “Break time!”

Namjoon melted into the chair, letting out a long, trembling breath. He was sweating all over, quickly slipping into a nap after muttering a silent, “I think I’ll rest for a bit.”

“I mean,” Taehyung’s voice rang once more. He snapped his gloves off, throwing them in the garbage bin “He hasn’t dated anyone else ever since. I got him really stone drunk once, and he kept crying about how much he missed you.”

“You’re telling me this because?”

“Because I hate seeing both my best friends miserable?” he shrugged. “Get some air, look at some of the designs outside. I think Namjoon hyung isn’t the only one under extreme stress today.”

The other designs plastered on the walls were all unique in their own way. You got why Jungkook’s shop was so popular - it almost transported you to another dimension. The care and detail he put into the shop was amazing, exactly the way he used to describe it. 

The entire six years you went away, he never left your mind. The idea of getting it over with, of coming back to him, kept you going. But after graduation, after becoming one of the most sought-after lawyers even in your age, fear started to slowly cripple you.

A lot of “what if’s” disheartened you. Most of all, shame. You couldn’t face him after what you’ve done.

“Hey.”

You flinched, startled by Jungkook’s suddenly standing next to you. “You thinking of getting one too?”

“No. Not today, at least,” You were both looking at the designs without really paying attention to them. The feeling of being next to each other without actively addressing each other’s presence was weirdly comforting. You were waiting for each other to make the next move, both too nervous to start, until you did. “I missed the food here. Remember that cheap ramen shop just outside our school? Mrs. Park was a nagger, but nothing could ever beat her cooking.”

To you surprise, he laughed - something you haven’t heard in ages. You were glad to make him smile again, even if it was just for a little while. “Man, none of the ramen shops here could ever beat Mrs. Park’s. It’s what’s tasty in Busan.”

“Speaking of Busan, Jimin’s actually from there too. No offense to Tae, but at least someone here could get the dialect.”

“Hey, don’t be too mean. Remember when he cried about missing Daegu the night before finals?”

“Ah, shit. I was so stressed out, like, what the fuck do I do? I want to comfort him, but I also want to not get kicked out of school. But looking back at it, I knew I was gonna fail with or without reviewing, so.” You laughed, hitting him lightly. Whenever he smiled, he really didn’t look any different from the Jungkook six years ago.

“How did it feel like moving to Seoul?”

“I was a bit nervous at first. Scared. I was no one, just this kid from Busan moving into this city of opportunities, and at some point I felt like I was going to drown in them but never really take one? I was so scared of becoming the person my parents thought of me but-” he paused, smoothing out a design that was about to fall off. “Taehyung was with me. And I wasn’t just this scrawny Busan kid anymore. I was this Busan boy with this other Daegu boy, and we had stars in our eyes, which at that time, was enough to fill our empty wallets.”

“And I just lived in the moment. And I... I thought of... I thought of you.”

The dreadful silence came back. Before you could stop yourself, much less think about your next words, you blurted them out. “I wonder if things turned out differently.”

Jungkook tensed Just when you got him to open up, he retreated back into his shell. He crossed his arms, fists balled up. “That’s the thing, ___. They didn’t.”

“Don’t you want them to?”

“At some point I did,” you glanced at him, his stony expression never meeting yours. You wanted to grab his hand and tell him you were sorry, that you were going to make things right. “But you were six years too late.”

He walked away, disappearing back into his room. Defeated, you walked back into Taehyung’s, finding him already resuming his work with Namjoon. Your partner looked more relaxed, even able to hold a conversation now. “Oh, there you are!”

Namjoon waved at you with his free arm. “We were talking about a cafe meeting, just to lay out all the details to the other boys and possibly get more info.”

“Yeah, ___! I could pressure Jungkook to treat us out. I haven’t had a good croissant in weeks.” He wiped the tattoo with a cloth, revealing crisper lines, before bringing the tattoo gun back on the skin. “I miss eating bread.”

You thought of the idea, figured a simple lunchout wouldn’t hurt anyone. The two boys continued with their banter, but you tuned them out. Jungkook’s words ran through your mind, as well as the design he touched back then. It was a pinky promise outline. You remembered it being the exact one he used to draw on your notebooks back then. Before either of the two boys could say anything to you, you were on your way to Jungkook’s room, pushing the door open.

He looked at you, surprised, pencil in hand. You must’ve caught him mid-drawing. “I want it on my hip.”

Puzzled,he stared at you for a moment, wide eyes shifting from you to his sketchbook. “You want what?”

“The pinky swear,” you pointed to the space just above your hipbone. “I want it here.”

“You can’t just barge into my work room and demand for a tattoo service.” You stared him down, feet firmly planted on the ground. He knew you weren’t going to budge, and with an exasperated sigh, he motioned towards the tattoo chair. “Fuckin’ sit down.”

Just like Taehyung, he took his time to prep everything he needed. Open a new needle pack, sterilize your skin, even got the design ready. “Tatt virgin, knowing you, you probably drank coffee before this didn’t you? And you got this tattoo on a whim, huh?”

“Maybe,” you blushed.”Last minute decision.”

He raised an eyebrow. The familiar buzz of the tattoo gun filled the room, but he didn’t bring i close to you yet. “Hip tattoos tend to hurt. What made you want this one?”

“It’s our design. You kept it,” Your bluntness surprised him.He pressed his lips together, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. “It was a nice, minimalistic outline. Good for flash, easy to make. Me keeping it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Jeon, you are still so bad at lying,” you rolled your eyes. Under your confident mask, you were actually very anxious. You still didn’t know what your boundaries were. What if you were stepping over the line and he’d get pissed and give you a shitty tattoo? No, Jungkook wasn’t that petty.

“Jeon, you are still so bad at lying,” he mimicked you, pulling a face. He snickered, “See how annoying you sound? Oh my God, ___, you’re still a big nerd.”

“You begged me for formula cards back then, and you know it,” you stuck your tongue out. Smiling, he shook his head. A gloved hand wiped your hip with a rag faintly smelling of aseptic. He paused, giving the pattern on the skin a once-over. “This is gonna hurt.”

“It’ll hurt less,” you whispered. He gave you a questioning look. “Seriously, ___, this is near the bone. It will hurt like a bitch.”

“I know,” you shuffled in your seat. “I mean, it’ll hurt less because I know you’ll be the one doing it.”

You didn’t need him to reply, and he didn’t. However, you knew it wasn’t out of spite, or because you pushed a button. The hum of the tattoo gun got louder, a sharp pain on your hip bone. But seeing Jungkook smile the way he used to - like when he was still yours - provided more comfort than you could ever imagine. And that was enough for now.

[order-progress]

I used to have a really entitled outlook on life. In my mind though, I was entitled to my thought processes because it was where my mind existed in the place having had come from a once far more turbulent era. Back then I didn't question things that werent outwardly obvious. I didnt question the unremarkable identities of things that exhibited no distinctions amongst one another. Life was a stream of experience, and I just did the best of choices I decided to arrange, or really actually, more like shuffle choices into a messy pile and pat myself in the back cause I could squint at it my mismatched pile of non related events and not feel guilty for putting off routine, structure and goals.

I guess it isnt so surprising to anticipate that like all my other experiences, disicpline would present itself when and if I needed it to be summoned out of wherever creative and yet very hard to imagine location i would imagine it arriving at some future, ambiguous date, just in time to make no work look like fancier no work and with ribbons on it.

Something very common happened to me, something that is happinning right now all around the world, no matter how many days, or years after i first posted this here.

My boyfriend broke up with me.

I wore my entitlement pretty high that day, because somehow, despite there having been no carefully executed plan made on ky end--some masterpiece scheme of genius where one could really see there existed some reasonable and healthy attention to tackle to fucking problem.

Nope. My mother fucking entitled ass decided id actually be shocked. Not even fake shocked. Thats how you know you have lost touch with your surroundings, because big things happen in your wake..while your awake and yet somehow your stuck on who killed the butler in the library with the candle stick.

What makes this one of the most significant event despite its occurance being fairly common globaly, is that his presence had caused me to become more aware of more of the things I would have otherwise taken in stride, none of these events were remarkable on their own, but collectivelly, I had inadvertantly cleaned up my mindspace to find neatly organized clusters of thoughts no longer blending into the subconcious like 70's urban grafitti.

I didnt hold that moment to some disporportionately skewed sugar coating scale just to get ribbons on them after they were organized,I just acknowledged them, like a breath,where as before, they were simply obstacles or pit stops that would perpetuate the chronic attention deficit I had welcomed into my head. I like to think of ADD as the worlds most innefective street sweepers, they sweep alright, but they just make a bigger mess and then you got things in places they have no business being in.

I was in a place of low self worth because of an accumulated collection of short lived and half assed adventures, disastrous endeavers and the nefarious presence of something so obscured, so black and forboding, made me avoid certain places for simply not wanting to deal with the house keeping it wouldve required to mitigate its destructive intentions.

I kept myself busy to not force the acknowledgent that this would become a source of not only my insecuruties, but then in addition to its ever increasing interconnectedness, its complexity. Its chambers that hardened like a mystical kight of armor, whose drawers were full of destructive objects and thoughts that rattled in their confinement as a means of foreshadowing something so sinister, I could not then yet fathom the destrutive ways its icy talons would engulf and twist into my everyday life simply to create chaos, and it didnt register that this was a problem because amidst this battle royale of fragments and bits of poorly put together patterns, Francisco's presense was a light whose emimation lulled me into a complacecy I hadnt anticipated

It wasnt that in this period, that I conciously made a decision to disregard the growing issue, it was the novelty of being in a loving, beautiful and mature relationship with someone that as each day grew, so did my conviction that this person was becoming the brightest fixture in an ever cramped confined hallway of possibilities.

As I stood there aware of this moment, feeling a satisfaction and a gratitude I had never felt before, I realized that I had come so far on autopilot, it was a move that was almost instinctual, I rolled my sleeves up, put on the rocky theme song, got my gym bag ready, went and bought like every stupid unessecary stupid trinket shit people buy to feel like their getting a handle and a good start on some shit, but really it just becomes the infuriating bag of junk that is now the obstacle between you and the door handle to exit your car and actually start your project.

I felt a sense of urgency, I saw how unequipped I had been and while I was and it was this moment that taught me how much I loved him. I reckognized that somehow I was one of those fucking weirdos that jumped through those seedy ass short cut type scenarios in life to give you the same effect of the real thing in less the time, kind of like a GED vs high school diploma, or plan b instead of condoms.

I recognized that there was an innate element of unneccesary risk involved in many of my accomplishments. The risk was usually always a concious decision that I would accept a certain amount of totally unnecessary consequences that typically would define the life of those people who you catch specific glimpses of in mysterious times like dawn or dusk. And be like..yea i could totally see that guy having to figure out what to do with the llama he inherited as a result of some gamble.

This was no longer an acceptable risk. It wasnt that i thought it was dangerous or scare him away, its that I am not the kind of man that wakes up and sees the problems his factory has and finally knows how to fix it and then just be okay with going to bed and put it off.

This is where I get annoyed again. I knew that I wasnt capable of actively doing something against him, because we both agreed on things, and also neither of us was completely high as fucking kite on methamphetamines while operating a forklift to tune a paino yet.

I couldnt ever feel bad about atheletes who ugly cried after being disqualified for juicing to get an unfair advantage in the sports world.

Yet once again my overwhelming confidence, my lovable man mentality of "fuck a map or tools you got grit, spit and teeth". Prevailed.

Im mad because it was this moment right here. In a sea of me being happy to grow and learn and doing the rignt thing. I saw a place i overlooked, its presence was almost like a marker that there were many other areas i needed to work on, and i got sad.

I didnt feel good enough. I felt like a mess. I felt dissapointed at the pride in nothing I had taken so many times. I was finally proud of the changes i was making again, only to be reminded in a very real way of how I never had structure, never had a fail safe implemented effectively to instead of adopting either anxiety or no fucks about an event that could have been in my power to mitigate, i either didnt even notice I missed it, or didnt care.

As I started seeing the mountain of work I had to do, I wondered what it meant about how effectively i could handle other things moving forward, it was an irrational fear that I had that I would dissapoint him because I wanted us to be happy. But i am an artistic person, people who work with details to make a larger picture learn early on how to work details, and I never evaluated just how shoddy my altertanitive crash course was like getting PlAN B instead of putting a condom on.

I can handle pressure effectively. I can be okay with my decisions. What I cant do is open up a factory, see everything that was negelcted when I now know how to fix it, and then go to sleep like nothing bothered me.

I never in my life found myself in a place where i came face to face with old life and it made me feel sad or humilated. I felt like a fraud for just having gotten lucky that everytning worked out, while he worked hard.

I suddenly felt something I never experienced before, fear in love. The moment where you realize your not a piece of shit because you actually dont want to let someone down, the moment when you feel bad because you walked around in life with luck you didnt give a second thought to and passed it off as hard work. And here was this beautiful man, whose life was suffering and hard work, and you realized all of it at once, and there I was, eager fucking beaver captain america man of the house cause now i feel like a god damned engineer since i could assemble an ikea 3 piece wrench-back the fuck up motherfuckers.

I just felt humbled and i felt driven. I also felt the pressures rise up around me and I dont know why I couldnt look away from the sight of the realization of how id been. And its not like i did it all on purpose, but from that moment on, it was as if I had something to prove to myself that at that time I couldnt understand yet because I hadnt reflected yet. And as I was taking the scenic route on ways to "punish yourself is actually how we fucking motivate ourselves around here cus were fucking men" the bigger I created something inside me that wasnt ever there. And then as the places that I had been tendering to and growing in started to not be kept, pressure in my life at home happened. And for the first time in my entire life I was embarrassed at my life.

I remember the moment I felt it, my mom leaving me at work after I lost my car. I walked 2 miles in the cold because i was infuriated that I allowed another event I could have forseen to happen.

I never in my life reflected this intensley on my actions before. Having him in my life made me realize I had been holding myself to a higher standard because I am at my best when I when I am actively building towards something. I opened a place in me I never saw with those eyes and it hurt me. I tried to let him in, and to be honest, the insecurities of him seeing all that mortiified me..not because I would be seen as a slob or this or that, i was just dissapointed that I for a time during when I needed it the most in my early life, I wasnt necessarily taught healthy ways to do things. Mostly because I came to this country at 10, didnt know english, parents worked all the time until i was 16 and then dad got sick with brain cancer and we caught it after he had a seizure cause dad apperently loved moonlighting as my biggest fan when he would go reading my journal at night.

I didnt know how to explain it to francisco. I was feeling. New concept, i was feeling out of sync, i didnt understand why it hit me so hard. I was trying to look away and orient myself on the present.

I could have just dealt with that. But i suddenly felt raw and vulnerable. My boyfriend and I were getting into arguments because I just wanted us to be closer due to this need i didnt know how to vocalize about what I was going through, and he hesitated because he probably thought id leave him if i saw his dirty secrets.

That was the one thing he really never appreciated about my love. I just knew. If everything else was as evident ..like this feelings and where they came from and how to process them healthy while ...it just all got too much. I didnt know how to tell him what I needed. I just needed him.

I started to feel like i wasnt tethered to the focused areas I was so eager to work in. I just kept telling myself communication is key we will get through it.

Then I the drugs did something I didnt expect them to. They turned off this guilt and switch. They gave me the quiet to make them come down to a more manegeable place where I wasnt overwhelmed anymore.

Because I couldnt process this in words at the time, i didnt know how to express that to him. It led to me feeling guilty for not understanding why i enjoyed doing the drugs aside from the stimulant effect. When i tried to explain it to him, it was like trying to coin a cheesy motto for a doomed cereal commercial in french, basically everuthing sounded like something he had no understamding or could relate to.

I started feeling depressed because i could see that although from his perspective we were fighting..

I was even more frustrated becauese we werent fighting. I was pretty much crying, trying to tell him in french something he didnt understand while he was yelling at me in english about me not respecting him by not speaking english.

This was the worst fucking part. Because part of the issue that led me here was accountabiliyy and communication.

I kept telling him in the only way i knew how.please im sorry i know things are getting worse. But this isnt how we are.

I thought we could get through anything.

In his mind he saw a piece of something, he ignored my emotional attachment to it..and i mean i cant blame him, other people never quit.

But even in those moments i knew i wasnt going to be other people.

And suddenly i was alone. I was depressed. I had realized that it wasnt us that was th issue so i tried so hard to communicate more effectively that he got frustrated and said i talked in loops. I felt so alone because i understood his frustration and i just needed him to trust me. But that was the perfect storm when i just got so alone feeling from his inability to just not look at me how i felt at myself. And i honestly tried to fix it in the middle of him running away and the most painful thing was that he couldnt understand and i didnt know how to say it.

I dont blame him for leaving

But a part of me breaks to my very core to know that if he just literally lookrd at me like yes i was going crZy but i was just hurting and overwhelmed.

All i wanted and needed was him.

The worst. Pain was that he didnt see that.

And i needed to explain it. And he didnt let me.

I felt like i was desperatly trying to express something of real explaination. I just honestly was desperate to because he was running.

I

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 27: Dreaming On

David hadn't had a chance yet to tell Emma what he had found in August's room, but figured he should still tell Gold first. He didn't know if August was telling the truth, but decided Gold deserved to know about this development right away. He hurried in the back way and to the front of the shop.

"Did you find anything?" Jefferson asked.

"Oh yeah...I found this in his things," David said, as he placed the drawing of the dagger on the counter. He watched Gold's face go ashen.

"Henry told me what it is and what it does," David said, looking at the pawnbroker.

"He's right...but the dagger is useless without magic," Gold stated.

"Henry said that too, but there's more. He told Henry that he's actually someone named Baelfire," David said, looking at Gold, who was now clutching the counter so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

"Baelfire...your son?" Jefferson asked, but Gold couldn't find his voice.

"So he says...but he sets off Emma's superpower like crazy," David replied.

"Is that really reliable?" Jefferson asked skeptically.

"If Emma thinks he's lying, then he is. About what or how much, we don't know. That's why I think we should be cautious about believing anything he says," David surmised, looking at Gold.

The Dark One knew his ability to be rational when it came to Baelfire was limited and he wanted it to be true, despite knowing the Prince had a very good point.

"Okay...let's say he is Baelfire. Why would your son be looking for the dagger?" Jefferson asked.

"He knows it's the source of my power," Gold replied.

"But there's no magic here...he has to know that," David reminded.

"Something doesn't add up to me," Jefferson added.

"Well...we could set him up to find out if he's really who he says," David suggested.

"How do you propose we do that?" Gold asked curiously.

"We know that he's looking for the dagger, so eventually he's going to come here to look. I say we let him find it," David replied.

"I don't let anyone just handle the dagger," Gold hissed.

"No, but you said it has no power here. Besides, we'll be watching when he does come. He won't have it long. Emma just got something she called security cameras in the mail. She explained to me what they do. She says they have them at the hospital. It's how she knew which way I went the night I woke up," David explained.

"Yeah, we know what security cameras are, chisel chin. But you discovering technology is still cute," Jefferson teased, making David roll his eyes.

"Anyway...he won't have the dagger long once we confront him," David continued.

"If he's a liar, it's probably the only way to get him to come clean...by backing him into a corner," Jefferson agreed.

"Fine...but we do this my way," Gold stated.

"If he isn't your son, I can't let you kill him," David warned.

"There are varying degrees between alive and dead," Gold countered.

"I think that was code for he's gonna kick his ass," Jefferson said.

"If he did lie to Henry, I can probably help you do that," David agreed, as he checked his watch.

"I need to get to the square to help Mary soon. If he shows up…" the prince said.

"I'll call you," Gold agreed, as David left the shop with Jefferson following him a bit later.

Lacey came in soon after that.

"Please tell me we're not going to that lame Miner's Day thing," she drawled. He smirked.

"As landlord to most people in this town, I'm required to make an appearance, but we don't have to stay long," he promised, as he got his coat.

"Good...too much of that bleeding heart stuff makes me nauseous," she complained.

"You and me both," Gold agreed, as he turned out the light and they left the darkened shop.

As school dismissed for the day, Mary started packing up her things, including the candles she had left, and prepared to head directly the square to finish setting up. Leroy stood on a ladder in her room, fixing one of the overhead lights in her classroom that was having a wiring problem. She watched him almost stumble off it, as Sister Astrid arrived and smiled to herself.

"Hello Mary Margaret," she greeted.

"Hello sister...I just want to apologize again that I couldn't sell all the candles," Mary said.

"It's not your fault and we still have a little time left. I've been praying for a miracle to fix my blunder," she replied.

"I do have a confession to make and I hope you don't hate me for it," Mary said with trepidation. Astrid smiled kindly.

"Mary Margaret, you are one of the sweetest, kindest people I know. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you," the nun assured her. She let out a relieved breath.

"Earlier today…Damon Tromera came by my classroom," Mary started to tell her.

"Oh my goodness...are you okay?" Astrid asked in concern. She nodded.

"He got me riled up, but I'm guessing that was probably his intent. I'm not sure what his ploy was, but he offered to buy the rest of the candles. He just scares me so much...I ripped up the check and Stephanie made him leave," Mary confessed.

"You did the right thing," Astrid agreed.

"Did she?" a voice said from the doorway, as they both turned to see Mother Superior standing there with a very cold, scrutinizing stare.

"Mother Superior…" Astrid started to say, but she was ignored.

"Miss Blanchard...the convent is in dire straights and the fact that you turned down a solution to our problem is deeply troubling," she said sternly.

"Mother Superior...that man hurt Mary Margaret and almost killed David. I don't think that is the kind of money we need," Astrid protested.

"Considering you are the reason we are in this predicament, you should be as upset as I am," Mother Superior snapped, as she looked back at Mary Margaret.

"Damon Tromera is a terrible man. I assure you that if he was trying to help, then it was probably to make himself look good for next week's trial," the teacher protested.

"I don't care...you had no right to turn down that money for the convent. We are not too proud to take his money. After all, he is a pillar of the community," she stated. Mary Margaret was appalled.

"A pillar of the community? He owns the sleaziest club in town! Emma says she suspects he's involved illegal things she can't prove! How can you call him a pillar of the community?" the raven haired beauty cried in outrage.

"I would watch your tone, Miss Blanchard. I hardly think someone like you should judge others," the head nun hissed and Mary blanched.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means that I remember when David and Kathryn were married in my church. But instead of trying to make his marriage work, David left her and allowed himself to be seduced by the pathetic woman who visited him every day while he was in a coma," she said harshly and Mary was taken aback by her hostility. She shook her head.

"David is divorced and we love each other. We aren't doing anything wrong," she said.

"Keep telling yourself that, dear," Mother Superior said.

"I'm sure she will, just like you will," Leroy grumbled.

"Excuse me?" Mother Superior snapped, glaring at the handyman.

"Just saying, sister. The gossip around town is that Damon Tromera is dropping cash in the forms of charitable donations all over, including at the hospital and the church," Leroy stated.

"That has nothing to do with this and it's none of your business," Mother Superior snapped.

"So...Damon is buying his way through town in hopes to sway the trial next week," Mary said. It was a hard pill to swallow, but one she wasn't really surprised by.

"The church has many needs and cannot be picky like you, Miss Blanchard," Mother Superior defended.

"Sure...you can take money from a man that runs a club that probably moves drugs and has strippers, but you refuse to recognize David's divorce," Mary said.

"Miss Blanchard…" Mother Superior hissed.

"No...I get it. He throws money everywhere so he gets a pass. But I'm dating a man that's been divorced for years and I'm the tramp. I should be used to that in this town by now," she added sadly.

"I don't have time for this anymore...I need to get to the square and hope that we can earn enough donations to pay our rent, since you decided to throw away the solution to that problem," Mother Superior said, as she stormed out.

"Mary Margaret...I'm so sorry," Astrid apologized. The raven haired beauty sniffed.

"It's okay...it's not your fault. I should have known better than to get my hopes up, you know? Next week, Damon Tromera is going to get away with terrorizing me and David, because he's already probably bought the judge and jury," she sniffed.

"We don't know that," Astrid tried to assure her.

"We kind of do, sister. As much as it sucks, she's right. This whole town is messed up," Leroy deadpanned and received an annoyed look from the nun.

"You're not helping," she chided.

"Come on, let's take the rest of the candles to the square. You never know, we could still get that miracle," the nun tried to encourage the teacher.

"And if we don't, I'm sure Damon will swoop in and save the day in front of the whole town," Mary said, as she took a box and stalked out with it. Leroy watched them go and knew they had no chance of getting that miracle...unless he managed to create one.

Normally, he wouldn't even consider helping another person in this town. But Mary Margaret had always been kind to him when no one else bothered. And Astrid...he had admired and loved her from afar for years. Perhaps...he could make this happen for them and stick it to that rich sleazeball at the same time…

Jefferson milled about the square, trying to make sure it wasn't obvious that he was watching Grace with her foster parents. He ached to have his daughter back and as impatient as he was, he knew they were getting close. The curse was weakening, little by little. The changes were very subtle, but he saw more of them every day. Mary Margaret grew a little bolder each day with David and Emma's influence. Ruby was more conscious of her life choices and was actually getting along with Granny these days. She was much less Ruby and more Red every day. Leroy was here too and that was huge. Finding him anywhere but at the bottom of a bottle was progress, indeed. Regina still had her cronies and supporters, but once the curse broke, that tide would change in an instant. He had never put much faith in leadership, but he was eager to know what a Storybrooke under Snow White and Prince Charming might be like. He knew it meant family and that was enough for him to throw his support behind them once it came time for the battles ahead.

"Well...I'm surprised to see you here. Don't you usually experience everything from behind your telescope?" Regina jabbed, as she sided up to the hatter.

"Things are different this year...as I'm sure you've noticed," he replied, a bit smugly. He wouldn't deny that he greatly enjoyed watching Regina squirm.

"Well enjoy them while you can, because if I have my way, next year will look very different," Regina said through barely contained rage.

"I think it's time you get real, Madam Mayor. Because this can of worms, so to speak, has been blown wide open and you can't just put everything back neatly the way it was," Jefferson warned.

"Oh, we'll see about that, now won't we?" she asked, as she brushed past him. He watched her go and saw her and Emma glare daggers at each other from across the square. The Mayor put her hand firmly on young Henry's shoulder, as if she was trying to make a statement with that one gesture. But what the Mayor didn't seem to understand was that the tighter she gripped Henry, the more he would slip away. His yearning to be with his biological family was growing stronger by the day. He wondered if the Mayor realized that if she were just to let him go that she might find that he would return willingly to her. After all, he knew the boy loved her, despite what she had done. If Regina would just allow him to be with the other people he loved as well, they'd all be happier. It made him wonder why this town, with all its people under her thumb, was really her happy ending. He'd watched the monotony for the last twenty-eight years. It was boring and nothing had happened before Emma came to town, save for when Regina adopted him.

It was that thought that struck him then. He didn't pretend to know a lot about the American adoption system, but it did make him wonder what kind of red tape Gold had to cut through to allow Regina to adopt Henry with no questions asked and no follow up from the supposed Adoption agency. Now there was a question he wanted to ask and he had a feeling, given Gold's current feelings toward their esteemed Mayor, that was a question Gold might be willing to answer.

With the arrival of Mary Margaret, he saw David's face light up and then turn down in concern, as he ensconced her in his arms. It looked like Mary Margaret Blanchard hadn't had a good day at all and wondered if it was about it get worse with Damon Tromera strutting smugly toward the square with Albert Spencer. The electricity in the air with all these opposing forces was volatile and promised fireworks in Storybrooke tonight, for if there was one thing that was true about Storybrooke these days; it was no longer boring.

David smiled, as he saw her, but frowned soon after and pulled her into his arms as she reached him.

"Hey...are you okay?" he asked, as she buried her face in his chest. She found herself breathing in his scent and relishing his arms around her.

"I'm okay now...it just wasn't a very good day," she sniffed and he could tell she had been crying.

"What happened?" he asked. Whoever had made her cry was going to get an earful from him for sure. He hated that there were people that treated her so terribly in this town. He knew most of it was the curse and Regina had managed to turn the opinion of some against her, but he still hated it.

"Tell me…" he pleaded, as he caressed her beautiful face.

"Well...first Damon Tromera showed up at the my classroom," she said, wincing when she saw him go rigid and his eyes shoot toward the man like blue fire.

"He did what?" he growled.

"It's okay...I wasn't alone. I'm not exactly sure what his ploy was, but he tried to buy the rest of the candles, like he was doing me a favor. Stephanie made him leave and I ripped up the check," she replied.

"Of course...we don't need his dirty money. We'll sell the rest of these candles," he assured.

"That's what I told Sister Astrid and she agreed that we couldn't take money from that man. Unfortunately, Mother Superior didn't share our opinion," she said sadly.

"Mary...I don't care what she said, because you did the right thing," he implored. She nodded and sniffed.

"I know...it just still hurts, you know? The names...but I think it hurts more that she refuses to recognize your divorce," she replied.

"Listen...you are not any of those names. You are the woman I love and the woman I'm meant to be with," he said. She smiled and nodded.

"I know...I think I can ignore the names as long as I have you," she replied. He smiled and kissed her tenderly.

"And you do have me…" he promised, as her eyes fluttered open. The festivities commenced and they were still struggling a bit with the candle sales. David nearly lost his cool when Damon strode up to the table and he put his hands on Mary Margaret's shoulders.

"I spoke with Mother Superior and I'm willing to ignore your earlier rejection of my contribution. A simple apology and your money woes will be over. These candles will look lovely in my club," he goaded.

"She doesn't owe you anything and we don't want anything from you," David growled. He smirked smugly.

"It continues to puzzle me why you choose to be with this pretty idiot when I could show you a life of luxury and sophistication with me," Damon goaded.

"You mean the life where you treat me as your possession?" she countered.

"Well...you are a prize for sure," he retorted.

"I love David and he loves me. We don't want anything to do with you, I don't care how many names I am called, but I will never accept anything from you. It would be like making a deal with the devil himself," she retorted back hotly. Damon glared at them both, as David was the one smiling smugly this time, as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Have a good evening, Miss Blanchard," he hissed, as he moved along and she let out a breath of relief.

"You are amazing," he told her, as he kissed her cheek.

"He's just so scary and creepy. He makes my skin crawl," she replied. He kissed her head.

"I know...we'll beat him though," he promised.

"I want to believe that, but Leroy said he's been making donations all over town. The convent, the hospital, every charity there is...David he's buying the jury," she fretted. He hugged her tightly.

"I know...but I still have to believe we can win and even if we don't, he's never touching you again," he replied. She was trying to think that was possible, but from the way her candle sales were going, she was having difficulty. What she didn't notice, however, was that Leroy had climbed onto the roof of hardware store where he had wired all the lighting from.

David saw him and looked at him curiously, but the shorter man simply motioned to the breaker box and held up his wire cutters. David smiled, catching onto to what he had in mind and gave him a thumbs up.

Suddenly, all the lights went dark and he was quick to start lighting candles on their table, giving off a glow. Mary looked at him and he grinned.

"We have candles!" she called and watched in amazement, as people began lining up at her table. Emma smiled, as she took one and stood by the table.

"Great timing for a blackout," she whispered to her dad.

"Well...the bad guys never play fair, so sometimes good has to stack the deck a little," he replied. By the time the line dissipated, they had sold out of the candles and Mary was in awe.

"We did it...we sold them all. We made enough for the rent at the convent!" she exclaimed. He picked her up and spun her around.

"I told you you'd do it," he said, as he kissed her. Her day had gone from bad to worse and then somehow had turned out good. But she could have never known at that moment that it would go from good to fantastic.

"You know...I've been waiting for the perfect moment to ask you a very important question and I don't think I'll ever get a better or a more romantic moment," he mentioned, as the candlelight around them created the perfect glow. She cocked her head to the side, wondering what he meant.

"I love you more than anything and I love making you as happy as you make me. I know the only thing that would make me happier than being your boyfriend...is being your husband," he said, as he got down on one knee and pulled the ring from his pocket. She gasped and they quickly drew everyone's attention.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard...will you marry me and be my wife?" he asked. A few tears escaped down her fair cheeks, but this time they were happy tears and she nodded her head.

"Yes…" she choked out.

"Yes!" she exclaimed again, as he put the ring on her finger and then stood up to pull her into his arms. He crushed his lips against hers and held her flush against him, as their lips moved passionately over each other's. Most everyone present applauded for them, while Regina glared murderously at them. Damon and Albert Spencer looked none too pleased as well, but David couldn't find it in himself to care about the possible threat they posed. So instead, he glared right back at them when his lips parted from Mary's and they basked in the congratulatory celebration from their friends. Emma hugged them both and they gathered together, as the fireworks to end the festivities began. For the moment, there was another victory for the side of good, even if the war between good and evil was far from over...