#the way i am so happy to see that art in the museum idk

[azhamdrety]

Actually the fact that Baghera never received a flower of the day after Forever disappeared but Bad did has been messing me up for weeks

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 16

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

best friend, baby by @ghosttotheparty*

“You— You make me feel so… good,” he finishes lamely, his head void of any words that could describe it, because how can Will describe the peace he finds in Nico’s presence, or the way he feels like he can finally breathe whenever Nico looks into his eyes? “You’re my favourite person,” he breathes. “My best friend.”

hooooooo boy the intimacy tag was NOT joking. i was gagged. yall tell me all the time how high u value will angst and like....this one DEVASTATED me for him??? like do yall ever think about how the first dialogue we hear from will in nico's perspective is self-loathing. yall ever think about how nico has always known him hating himself. well this author did. "i know you hate yourself but just because you hate yourself doesnt mean everyone else does too" hey what if we FOUGHT. also im going back in to all my FRFs to star my FAVE FAVE FAVE fics bc this is one of them LET ME TELL YOU.

2. just a dumb game by @ghosttotheparty

Nico di Angelo is not a party person. But Will Solace is going to be there. So.

they are SO FUCKING GAY and SO FUCKING IN LOVE and SO FUCKING STUPID. god i love them so fucking bad like they are inherently down bad obsessed with each other and this is how they should be. this is the way of the world.

3. even in the silver light by @ghosttotheparty

Nico is back. Will is still smitten.

first of all. latino and nb will. thank you. second of all. i am (obviously) obsessed with this author bc they KILLLLLL w burning intimacy. like you have no idea they write them like there is a twice burning fire only alive within them it's CRAZZZYYY. i also fckn LOVE that this is like. okay so the author says its plotless and it is kind of 45k of plotless, yes, but idk theres something to be said of love as a plot?? of learning and loving each other as a storyline.

4. splash by @ghosttotheparty

Annabeth is reading her favourite book. Someone walks directly into her.

yeah okay i think this is another one author week. sue me. this fic made me GRIN okay. it was so fucking cute and sweet and soft and autistic annabeth my beloved!! my love and light!! they are so in love in every universe fr and i fckn LOVE them dude i am OBSESSED. when this author writes people together it's as if you can hear them click.

5. isnt she lovely by @ghosttotheparty

Their eyes always meet in the halls. Her eyes are grey and shiny, and they make Percy think of stormy skies and marble sculptures. (She could be a marble sculpture, in the entrance of a museum, surrounded by scholars and artists and mesmerised passersby. Fucking beautiful in a way that only art ever is.) - - - Percy has had a crush on Annabeth since eighth grade. (He doesn’t know she likes him too.)

percy hitting the ground when annabeth kisses him 😭😭 HES SO REAL. i just recced this fic on instagram and i am here reccing it again bc it is EXCELLENT. i rly rly love to see pjotv percabeth in fic like i DO. theyre so fucking cute. and i LOVE how this author writes autistic annabeth!! it is so important to me!!! and this one is so CUTE like percy had such a huge crush on him.....like not just he liked her he had a CRUSH on her. god. i am melting.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[victorspindrop]

OG HOA Characters and what their Major would be in College

Side note; once again hello I am alive. Currently in my last year of college so I have been dedicating majority of my time to my studies. I still have ideas and love for this account I am just not really consistent so my apologies. With school being my priority right now, it has got me thinking about what each of the characters major would be if they ended up going to university. Hope you all enjoy <3

Nina

I think we as a fandom have collectively decided Nina would be maybe a journalism major or a history major, and honestly I think that is very accurate!

Personally, I can see her being a History major with a Journalism minor

I mean especially from all her sibuna escapades, she loved learning the history of the house and all that was in it

I like to think she carried that love with her beyond Anubis. Maybe it makes her feel at home in a way (was Anubis traumatic? yes. but it was home <3)

I think writing the play back in S1, although stressful during the time due to a centuries old scavenger hunt, I think maybe that ignited a love of writing in her and she ended up doing it as a hobby for a while

I mean, she had a diary so obviously writing of some sorts seemed to be therapeutic for her (apparently to therapeutic in S3 smh) IM SORRY BAD JOKE BAD JOKE

Amber

Amber OBVIOUSLY went into something to do with fashion ; I mean she left in S3 to go to a fashion school so it checks out, and she's Amber so DUH

Majoring in Fashion Design, holding her own little runways during the school year

Maybe even having a clothing sale on campus at some point in the year

EVERYONE wants to get their hands on an Amber original

If she didn't go in fashion design I could also see her being a business major

Amber is our OG #GirlBoss so I can see her going into this major with the intents of learning the odds and ins of running a business

I think shed still be selling some sort of fashion or accessory but she would just be studying the principles of running a business.

She gives very Elle Woods "I have a 4.0 average!" "Yeah in fashion merchandising..."

Fabian

Fabian definitely gives History major to me as well (Fabina is the cutest couple in the history department)

Him and Nina compare notes <3

He was always a studious guy so it makes sense!

I can see him potentially becoming a Museum Curator (Him and the Sibuna gang found half of the relics in the museum)

Fabian is also our music guy, I will never forgive the writers for not putting in more clips of Fabian and his guitar UGHHH

I could see him picking up a Music minor just as a backup (more importantly for fun)

He really enjoys his History of Music class because its literally his two favorite subjects TOGETHER

HIs professors are very impressed with his knowledge of ancient Egyptian mythology (little do they know...)

Patricia

Honestly Patricia is hard for me to figure out

I think she’d maybe take a gap year or something after Anubis or maybe travel the USA and hang with Eddie maybe?

Maybe she would go into criminology?

Idk maybe being kidnapped and seeing an unjust system (the police being a part of Victors life cult) she’d want to be in the system herself because “at least i’ll be doing what’s right even if everyone else isn’t”

I think also having no one to listen and help her in S1 may fuel this as well.

Or hell, maybe she’d major in law

then she’d get to prosecute all the shitty people doing shitty things

Alfie

literally had to consult the discord to figure out stuff for this mf

I now know technically he probs went for business cause of his dad, BOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCK THAT IDEA LET MY BOY BE HAPPY

Some sort of art major

I like to think he made most of his costumes so maybe something within theater costuming

or hell even theater we know he would do so good

He loves putting on shows and making people laugh, it what he LIVES for

Maybe he goes on to have some sort of comedy special

Also idea from the HOA discord im in, him and Jerome def went to the same college and were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

Jerome

this bitch went into business or something for sure

I will never forget Jerome basically have a homework selling SIDE HUSTLE in S1

(and Fabian threatening to expose him)

Finds some sort of niche that wouldn't be illegal and expands on it

actually does pretty well, he has experience per say so

Since Alfie did art as a major, Jerome lets him take home his business textbooks so his dad doesn't find out he isn't majoring in business (i love these two dumbasses so much guys i love friendship ugh)

Mick

Sports medicine probably

you guys know mick is like a thumb to me character-wise love him and dont at the same time

Mara

MY GIRL WENT INTO PSYCHOLOGY

you guys can trust me on this, I am literally getting my bachelors in psychology

tbh she just LOOKS like I would see her in one of my psych classes

She was trying (for a while) to help calm Patricia and talk her through her worries early on in S1 , I think its just in her nature to want to help others

She went as far as cheating on a test to help someone, girl goes the extra mile...even if the mile was wrong

Also beginning S1 when Amber first voices her concerns about Mick not loving her anymore Mara is literally the first one to be like "No that's not true!"

I feel like she would just go the cognitive therapist route (basically your average sit down talk to therapist)

She might go into some of the more neuroscience sides of psychology since she was so studious and SO GOOD at science and stuff (our "biology babe")

Joy

journalism with a communication minor for sure

she ran that school newspaper like it was the navy

I like to think she would go on to be apart of the newspaper/news group of her college

Maybe she goes on to be a reporter or something

or maybe she has a column in the news or maybe even works for a magazine company

[hopelesswritergall]

okay hear me out — artist aegon x history student reader headcanons 👀

Get me out of here

Yesss BESTIE

TW: Wars…..? Idk know

Please comment, reblog or like. Reblogs are much appreciated as they cause more people to see my work. If you want to you can tell me what you thought in the reblog, in a comment or send in an ask!!!

Summary: Aegon doesn’t want to work in the museum shop, but maybe he can grow to like it?

Taglist(comment or ask to be added/removed): @howyouloveyourdragon /@simp-aholic @daenerysapologist

Je suis very sorry that it’s not gender neutral with body description. It’s just I think that Aegon notices curves in women.

Museum name: The history of all (why cuz why not)

It all started because of his mother. “Aegon for the love of god! Get a job! We can’t keep financing you, do something besides you study! Please.”

“But Mom, I do my art?!”

“Aegon, this isn’t enough to live. You need to get a job!”

Soooo Aegon had to find a job, he didn’t want to interact with people who couldn’t appreciate beauty and art. So his best shot was the museum, the gift shop.

He decided to lie a tiny bit on his resumé. He didn’t work for another museum during his first year of college, he doesn’t like to work with everyone and a few other things.

He walked into the museum and got greeted instantly with the reception and right beside that, the gift shop.

But what he saw blew his mind, a beauty was seated at the reception. He could see they had some nice curves, and a pretty smile. As he got closer he could hear their laugh and see a twinkle in their eyes.

“Hello beauty, I can see why you work here. You are a piece of art.” He would say, flirty. Howeverr it had the opposite effect. You stared at him with the customer service face

“Goodmorning Sir, what can I do for you today?” You smiled politely. But inside you thought “Alright, he has the smooth talking, what does he want?”

He looked a bit taken aback that his ‘pickup line’ didn’t work. “Oh… uhmmm, I’m here for the opening of employee in the gift shop. With who do I talk?”

“Oh. Alright. You go through the door on the left, yes the yellow one. Then continue walking till you see a little sign saying director. Knock and then you’re there. Good luck.”

“Yeah….. thanks.” Aaanddd Aegon quickly walked to the door. Feeling embarrassed as fuck.

Well the conversation might have been bad, but his job interview was a success. He got the job!

He walked back to the reception, you were currently not busy so he decided he should get to know his colleague.

“Well guess who got the job?” He said leaning on the reception. “Well guessing by your smug smirk, I guess you?”

You stood up, walked to your fellow receptionist, said something very quick and walked back to Aegon.

“Alright follow me, I’ll work you through your first day here.”

He was a little embarrassed that the girl he tried to flirt with was now showing him the ropes.

“Okay so, you’ll be in charge of the gift shop. I may ask you to do some other stuff around the museum but this will be your main task. And yes before you ask, I am in a way your boss and you’ll report back to me. I’m the supervisor or the shop and the help desk so please don’t ask stupid questions. Because contrary what people say there are stupid questions.”

Let’s say that Aegon felt mildly embarrassed and was happy to start working. He was just thinking "Get me out of here."

"When are my break times? Because as much as I love to discuss my entire day working. I do like breaks."

"You'll get a break when you deserve one. Now go and work newbie." And with that you left to attend to other matters.

"Alright Aegon it's only for a while, just prove to your parents you aren't a failure, then you can quit." He muttered to himself

The rest of the day he spent his time restocking, working at the counter, helping customers and staring at his hot and smart boss.

A new painting has just been brought in and you were inspecting it. Aegon decided to join you and see it for himself. He was an artist after all.

"Wow! It's so amazing! What a great painting, just look at those details. And look at the composition, your attention is immediately at the person standing on too, with the flag" Aegon said, he looked at you wanting to see your opinion

" AMAZING?! This painting is horrible! It's supposed to be the French revolution the second day or something based on the supposed day it is signed. But the painting doesn't match with the information that we have. It was supposed to be raining, here it is a clear sky! And the uniforms! Those uniforms weren't used by the French army until 1890. This doesn't add up! It's a fake and it's horrible they are even offering this to us!"

Aegon just stared in awe. "I suppose you're a history major?"he asked.

"Yeah, what's the best place for a history major? A museum of course!"

And thus began a love-hate relationship. Whenever Aegon found something beautiful you just had to come in with the historical facts.

It doesn't matter if it's a painting, a musical or even movies. There is always a tiny thing that is wrong with it.

Soon after meeting you couldn't help but fall for the guy. So the dates that were platonic at first turned romantic very soon.

And yes you still pointed out those annoying little details but he grew to love them. And he loved you.

[linguenuvolose]

2024 goals - March progress

I can't claim I focussed on my goals at all this month... Idk I don't really see them as goals either they're just kinda.. things I keep some track of. I know I said this last month but I think April will be more productive because this month for sure spring will feel like it's here (we're still waiting for the trees to turn green, it snowed A Lot last week, just to give you an idea of the situation).

Anyway love and light below are some reflections on my specific goals :)

Get back into a reading routine

I've kept on reading Orlando by Virginia Woolf and I only have 35 pages left. I'm still not consistent at all with it, I read a bit about once a week. I find it so hard to reach for the book instead of my phone, it's annoying because I really do enjoy the book.

Meet friends at least once a month

I've had some good hangouts this month, mostly others that have been reaching out. I'm happy because one of my friends came to my boyfriend's show and was so excited about it and I'm happy they are bonding! In April I have plans to go visit a friend who lives in another city (one of my closest friends who will also meet my boyfriend for the first time) and I'm also planning to reach out to another friend!

Do the damn exercises for my back :(

I did them like.... 2,5 times :( not good at all. And my salsa classes stopped in the middle of the month and I've decided to not continue so it's not looking perfect. Hopefully with the extra light we get now I can have more energy to do them in the evening.

Get better at Portuguese

I signed up for the Portuguese course at uni <3333 Hopefully I'll get in and I'll be able to do that in the fall. I studied in some way 11 days of the month which isn't nothing!! Started doing Clozemaster and I really like it, especially on the writing mode (let's be honest, all my knowledge in Romance languages makes the "choose from these four options" a walk in the park for me). It's super annoying that the free plan only allows you 30 words a day. What I really should do is produce more, write little texts and stuff.

Get my license

We're still waiting for the permit to be able to practice driving with my boyfriend but it's taking a while... I've had 2 lessons though (was supposed to have 3 but one got cancelled). I don't know that I feel that I'm getting any better but I do really have to start studying the theory. It would be nice to talk to my instructor also and ask him what he thinks a reasonable time frame would be for me. In my head I'm seeing myself getting the license during the summer but who knows.

Get back into the habit of going on walks

I have been on some walks this month but more in the sense of I am somewhere and walk a bit instead of taking the closest subway. But I mean now with the change of the hour and the warmer weather I for sure am seeing myself going on more walks!

Go to the theatre more (youth discount my beloved) and also to some museums!

I went to the Maurizio Cattelan exposition at the Modern art museum because my friend had a free entrance with her job. I actually really liked it! Unfortunately I was in a bit of a hurry so I didn't have time to meander or look at the other expositions but I would love to go back! They do the free entry on Friday evenings so I think I might go!

Improve my sleeping schedule

I actually compiled my statistics for this this month (yay!). Slept an average of 7h15 but if we just look at work nights it's 6h20. Not great... It's not something I've paid particular attention to this month but I think I should. I think a goal could be maybe sleep before 1 more often (this month it was 3 times hihihi ma come siamo messi raga).

[faemytho]

Idk if you know these guys but Almond Cookie and Roguefort Cookie? Maybe with “Well I did have an elaborate trap set up but you decided to climb in through the window!”

Fandom: Cookie Run

Ship: Almond/Roguefort

WC: 2,047 (>AO3 Link<)

ohhh this one ran away from me so bad. SORRY I DIDNT FOLLOW THE SENTENCE EXACTLY, but i think you'll be happy with how i worked it in! this was WAY too much fun to write, thanks anon

-

Almond's office was a standard, no-nonsense, place perfectly suited to getting work done. Even in the darker hours of night, Almond could vouch for this fact, often working through the worst of his paperwork by lamplight. Though Parfaedia was never truly dark, he kept the curtains drawn and the windows shut, preferring as little of the outside hustle and bustle in his office as he could manage to keep out.

Though he kept the curtains drawn and the windows shut, he never once thought to lock them. His office was well off the ground, and any sensible cookie who wanted to see him would go through ground security first. Unfortunately, his visitor was not a sensible cookie, or perhaps it could be said that his visitor was much too sensible a cookie.

The latching of the window clicked, and the window slid open with the dull, slightly sticky sounding thud of a window that had never been opened before. Almond looked up from his desk, paperwork by lamplight at midnight temporarily abandoned by his attention as a cookie parted the curtains by his window and slipped into the room.

"What," Almond said flatly, "the hell."

"My my, good evening to you too, Commissioner." Phantom Bleu stepped further into the room, tipping themself into an extravagant bow.

Almond abruptly stood, his chair skidding on the floor behind him. "You're supposed to be at the Parfaedia Art Museum."

Phantom Bleu stood up straight, their posture of ease and their expression faintly amused, even despite their shocked tone. "I wasn't aware I had a schedule to abide by, Commissioner. Do enlighten me."

"Do you have any idea," Almond seethed, coming around his desk and approaching the phantom thief, "how much effort went into setting up a trap there to catch you? Talking to the owners, devising a trap elaborate enough to catch you without disturbing the exhibits, setting it up with the staff… The paperwork, Phantom Bleu."

The thief only looked down at Almond with that amused glint in their eyes.

"And yet here you are, not caught, climbing through the window into my office." Almond stopped in front of them, his arms crossed, simmering like a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

"Is that all?" The thief asked, and it was through immeasurably strong self restraint that Almond merely sighed and lifted a hand to pinch his brow.

"I suppose the last thing I have to ask is why you have seen fit to break into my office."

"There we go," Phantom Bleu said brightly, stepping back and around Almond as deftly as a cat might. They were over by his desk before he could even fully turn around, peering down at the documents he'd been working through. "Now you're asking the important questions."

Striding over to the desk, he put himself between them and the documents. "Those are classified," he said firmly, "and you need to get out of my office."

"Oh?" The thief smiled, the monocle on their face glinting in the light of his desk lamp. "But you always put all this effort into catching me. Here I've delivered myself to you on a silver platter, and you wish me gone? You make a man feel unwanted."

Stunned, Almond could only stare, the thoughts in his mind whirling too fast to be concrete. "A man?" was all he could even think to ask, his voice faint.

Phantom Bleu shrugged with a smile, turning away from Almond and making their way across the room. Their cape fluttered with the swift movement, their hair swaying where it had previously lay against their back, tied together in that low knot that typically rested on their waistline. "I am a man unwanted, a woman unloved, a cookie undesired, but most importantly, I am whatever is most convenient for me. Which do you prefer? The sentiment is the same."

"Which do I-?" Almond shook his head, clearing it of the temporary confusion. He followed the thief across the room, his voice taking on an edge of impatience. "Cut the idle talk, Phantom Bleu, why are you here?"

They didn't answer for a moment, attention taken by their sudden need to throw the curtains of the other window they had approached wide open. Parfaedia was never truly dark, but it was mostly silver moonlight that flooded in, alongside the faint yellow of the streetlights and the windows of other cookies who were still awake at this hellish hour.

"I am here, Commissioner, because I have information for you that I think you will find quite useful." The phantom thief turned, and with the strange mix of silver and yellow light behind them, they looked ethereal. "If I may be so bold to assume, one of your departments is currently having poor progress in hunting down a particular group of cookies. Smugglers."

Almond blinked, his confusion quickly masking itself under a guarded look. "Get to your point."

"I am pursuing them as well." The phantom thief moved away from the window, away from the light that made them look like a living eclipse. They made their way over to Almond's desk, and he hurried to follow. "They have taken something of mine that I would like to have returned. Unfortunately, I am only one cookie."

"So, this information you're offering," Almond said slowly, piecing together the thief's motivations. "In exchange for the help of the PPD?"

"Precisely, my dear Commissioner." The thief stopped in front of his desk, and Almond did as well. "I always enjoy it when you and your protégé are able to keep up with me. This is mutually beneficial for the both of us. I get what is rightfully mine returned to me, and you disband a group of smugglers and put them all behind bars."

"I would be a fool to agree to this without knowing what it is you're looking for," Almond said flatly. "But you knew that."

Phantom Bleu hummed softly, an uneasy edge to the tone. "I had hoped you might not be so bright as to ask, but I see now that that hope was merely an insult to your intelligence. Perhaps, another trade. Information for information, and if you find it agreeable, my information on the smugglers for your assistance."

They moved once more, but did not turn away from him. Instead, they moved to stand in front of him, stepping towards him and forcing him back. They leaned over him, and he leaned back against his desk, firm expression never wavering despite just how close the thief's face had gotten to his own, despite the heat he could feel begging to blush into his cheeks.

"Does that sound agreeable to you, Commissioner?" Phantom Bleu spoke, their voice soft as velvet, whisper brushing against his ears like feathers. Stiffly, Almond gave a nod, and the thief smiled. "Wonderful."

They leaned out of his space and slipped behind his desk, and Almond gave himself a moment to calm his racing heart.

"As for your question…" Phantom Bleu spoke, and Almond turned around to the sight of them sitting in his desk chair. "My, but this chair is comfortable. I suppose it has to be, with how often you stay late."

"Phantom Bleu."

"Ah, right, my apologies," they answered, not sounding very sorry at all. They leaned back in Almond's chair, eyes closing with an air of ease that seemed far too practiced to be natural. "What I seek from these cookies… is an heirloom."

Almond stilled. The implications of such an item would be connected to Phantom Bleu's true identity. Though the cookie freely showed their face, nobody knew their name or where they came from. It was one of the biggest mysteries Almond had ever personally tackled, and the only one thus far to elude him.

"A family heirloom of immeasurable value, to be quite precise," the thief continued, perhaps all too aware of Almond's train of thought. "I have been attempting to track it down since the moment I became Phantom Bleu."

"Is that why you became Phantom Bleu?" he asked, placing his hands on his own desk and leaning on it from the wrong side. The thief in his chair looked up at him, their gaze flicking down, and then up again.

"I believe that that's one too many questions I offered to exchange information for, my dear Commissioner," they said, the slightest upward quirk to their mouth. "You have yet to answer a question from me."

"Fine." Almond didn't move from where he leaned on the desk. "State your question."

"It's been bugging me, really," the thief said, leaning back in the chair once more and pulling their leg up to rest their ankle across their knee. "Why did you expect me to be at the Parfaedia Art Museum?"

Almond sighed in relief. Of all questions to ask, he couldn't believe they'd chosen the most harmless question ever. "We had received an anonymous tip claiming that you would be there."

"And you believed it?" Phantom Bleu's voice had gone incredulous, a slight laugh in their voice. "My darling Commissioner, I thought you knew me better than that. I do not take what doesn't already belong to me."

Almond rolled his eyes, raising a brow at them, but they didn't elaborate.

"So, Commissioner Almond," Phantom Bleu said, and the way his name rolled off their tongue sent a tingling shiver up his spine, "do you find my answer to your question satisfactory?"

He gave a long sigh, lifting a hand to pull down his face. The thief had played their cards well, he had to admit. It was likely that they would continue to do so until the very last second, dropping only the necessary information as it was needed. Almond knew how they worked, and he knew this would result in them slipping away into the night, victorious once more in their endeavors.

"Fine. Phantom Bleu, you have yourself a deal."

The thief perked up, a charming smile on their face. Almond merely pointed a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the window they'd come in through.

"Now get the hell out of my office. It's abysmally late and I've got work to finish up."

Phantom Bleu laughed, and he ignored the odd little fluttering in his chest. They stood from the chair, taking a moment to fix their cape and clothes as they came around his desk to stand before him.

"So cold," they teased, fixing where their monocle sat on their face, something that might be called a grin on their face. "I expect I'll be seeing you soon enough, though. Until we meet again, Commissioner Almond."

Phantom Bleu bowed to him, and he ignored the rush of heat through his chest. He watched them move through the room, pulling themself out of the window with an almost ethereal grace. At least when they left, they closed the window after themself.

Almond took a seat at his desk once more, the entire encounter running through his mind as he tried to focus on his work again. Their face so close to his, their velvet soft voice, the way they bowed to him, he put it all out of his mind and looked down at the document he'd been working through. They'd left a tiny note in the margin, having apparently gone through the document for themself and pointing out just what exactly was wrong with it. To his dismayed frustration, they were right.

When the hell had they gone through the whole document and gotten time to write on it? He could only recall a few seconds in which his eyes had been taken off of them. Not only had they gone through the document, but analyzed it to such a degree they could tell exactly what was wrong with it in seconds, all the while holding a complex conversation with Almond.

Almond pulled a hand down his face and leaned on his desk, ignoring the rushing heartbeat in his ears. The answer to the question of who exactly Phantom Bleu was had evaded him for as long as he'd been working as a detective, and this felt like a taunt. Or maybe it was a tease.

'Which do you prefer?'

He needed a cup of coffee.

[herri-writes]

In This Eternity

Mika Kagehira x Reader (!!)

Note: Pls this idea stayed in my brain occasionally. (Long ass writer's note and fic incoming) Idk but i put some slight spoilers from Sprout * Waning Hermitage. I cannot unthink of how beautiful this is-- INCLUDING THE CARD ARTS I AM IN LOVE. RABU~I It's been a while since I last wrote a songfic. Never thought I'll be able to write one using an enstars song— especially Acanthe. I am bawling with crocodile tears here. Not to mention, the whole song is the whole goddamn base of this fic. It's an absolute mess because of my writer's block but Mika— MIKA— made me continue to write this. I used the english translation from the wiki and being creative by using it to give meaning to the fic. I will cry once the trans at en live will show up and not accept it. Warning: Messy writing. I'm fighting writer's block like how I fought my life.

It was sundown at Sky Garden. You are taking a small breather because of certain twins who saw you working hard as usual but caught you slowly blinking the minute away. Somehow, they brought you all the way here to Sky Garden and left you out there, all alone because of the Deputy Director summoned them for work reasons. You sighed. They were right. You are overworking yourself to the bone again. You were completely glad that someone who studied in the same Alma mater was there to help you. You remembered Valkyrie's previous live. Your words got caught in your throat the moment they performed. Of course, it was different from their rehearsals but the actual performance blew you away— like a kiss that will inspire your heart in this eternity. The song is so heart wrenching and yet, it touched you and held you, like these arms that will embrace you tightly in this eternity. And yet, their art is like a museum, their hermitage. A doll, who was able to dance freely with no strings attached, blew your heart and kissed you, in this eternity— You shook your head when your mind wandered and saw a pair of heterochromic eyes in your vision. You slapped your cheeks to remove those eyes in your mind. Sure, he was once a doll but he was given life by his own creator. He was more human in his performance, not like a marionette who was lifeless and controlled. It was such a sight to see that he was accepted as an artist by his own master, who was now his equal. Their past performances are artistic and yet your gaze remained to him, who was once a marionette at his own movements, was now a human. And that marionette, is Mika Kagehira, the novice artist. You spent days wondering how were you able to take a liking at this young artist, who graduated from a doll to his master's equal. It was always like this since the day your eyes stared at his heterochromic ones. Amber and sapphire gemstones sparkling beautifully under the ever-changing sky. Whether it's night or day, its always a wonderful sight for you to look upon. You sighed once again. You always knew that ever since the day you began to produce for Valkyrie. As someone who is always busy like Anzu back in the previous year as a producer in the Idol Course, you were able to understand what Valkyrie is like— from the past to the present. You stood up and began to dance, just like how Mika had done at Hermitage. You were amazed on how he interpreted the way on how the doll came to life. You remembered how Mika told you once that he was possessed by the doll. You couldn't believe that it actually happened and yet, it made you think that it was how Mika was able to adapt to his former self as a member of ex-Valkyrie and act the way he is as a member of Valkyrie in the present in his dance. While being perished in this longing and illusion You placed your hands on your chest and turned, as if your embracing the loneliness in your heart and hummed. While anticipating this sleeping Hermitage Graceful and beautiful, yet tragic and heart wrenching as it ended with a happy ending. That's how you describe Acanthe. Valkyrie's Acanthe. Someday, your heart will blow and you'll kiss me In this eternity

"Ngh... Sis Mado! Where are ya?" A voice called out from behind the building. "Sis Mado— Hm?" He stopped from the corner of the building and listened closely. His heterochromic eyes widen as he saw you singing and dancing Acanthe. Holding on to these rusted, broken, and lonely feelings Getting close to this person in Hermitage His jaw dropped. He rubbed his eyes and thought if his eyes are creating illusions. 'Am I seein' things or 's it (Name) dancin' to ma part of the song?' He shook his head and look around to see if the little doll is within the vicinity. To his surprise, she was sitting on one of the benches near you. 'Good. She's here.' He sighed in relief. 'But how did Sis Mado got here? Someone must've took her. Was it (Name)?' He shook his head at his own question. 'No, t'was nearly impossible for (Name) to bring Sis Mado here...' "Someday, these arms will embrace me tightly..." He heard you all too well. "In this eternity..." His heart softened as you hit the notes all too perfectly that he sang along. He woke up from his short reverie when he heard her voice. "My, (Name), your voice sounded so lovely. It was pleasant to the ears, just like what Mika told me before." Madmoiselle commented at the performance you just did. Well, Mika couldn't lie when he heard you sang once. He was stunned when he first heard you sing back then when he waited for you in Valkyrie's practice room. He always saw you always talk and work that he began to wonder if you can sing or dance. And this was the second time he saw you did both. "Thank you very much—" You paused for a moment. That familiar voice made you turn around and you couldn't believe your eyes. Your eyes look down to the bench and see the petite little doll on it in a blue dress, pairing it with a blue ribbon tied on its signature blonde curly hair.  "Ma-Madmoiselle?! How did you get here? Since when did you get here?" The doll chuckled, "I asked for a little help from someone and I was already here when you started singing." You walked closer to the doll and lowered yourself to her level. You curiously asked her, "A little help...?" You tilted your head a little. She answered, "Shu once heard you sang so he wanted me to see you and hear you sing." "He perhaps brought you here to know that I'm bad at singing." "Of course not. He was amazed that he heard you sang. Not to mention, your actions, pose, everything, is all a work of art, he said." You blushed at Madmoiselle's words. You felt like you're crazy because you're talking to a doll that Valkyrie rubbed a lot on you. It became a thing since last year, of course. You made an eye contact to the doll and exhaled in defeat. You were pretty sure that all of this is a coincidence— starting from the moment the Aoi twins took you out here for a break and Shu bringing Madmoiselle here and left her on the bench near you to hear you sing. What's next? Mika hiding from me behind the trees or behind the building? Your eyes widen at the thought. You thought if someone from Valkyrie is here that you stood up and sat beside Madmoiselle. "(Name), I may be a doll but I can tell you anything that you need to know." Madmoiselle said and you nodded. "What did Mika say about me?" You asked her and she answered, "Mika always describe you as hardworking producer. Sometimes he thought if you made a competition with Anzu here. He often told me that you're creative when he saw you that you can design clothes so well. He thought if he could bring your designs to Shu but you always hid your works in your bag the moment he saw you draw your sketches." "I—" You were absolutely stunned. 'Sis Mado?!' Mika froze on his spot and covered his mouth to prevent any noises to come out of him. He doesn't want his cover to be blown and get caught by you and Madmoiselle. He didn't expect that she'll tell the things that Mika told her and pass it on to you. "Mika may be a curious one and all but he has a lot to learn for himself. He never wanted to depend on Shu and learned to become independent for himself." The doll continued. Ah, right. He was like that when he thought of designing an exclusive outfit form himself when it was his turn to be given one. You smiled at his reactions when you saw him at the clothing gallery to sketch his designs. "I thought so, too." Mika heard everything and nearly fainted at your response. "Sis Mado... Ya don't even need to say anythin'..." You exhaled and looked at the doll and asked, "Madmoiselle, would you mind if I continue to sing. I felt comfortable singing in front of someone now." 'Or something...' The doll answered, "Of course." You cleared your throat and continued to sing. Reminiscent of this lingering fragrance of warmth You stood up from the bench and continued to dance. This time, it was Shu's part of the performance. Mika's eyes opened wide in surprise. 'She knew Teach's part?! Amazing...!' Once upon a time, this love was decorated with scars And they are the proof that we have transcended time itself "I shall never forget you even if you disappear..." Mika was so close on revealing himself from hiding and singing alongside you. He resisted but gave up as he snapped out of his thoughts to hide and revealed himself. Luckily, your back is facing the bench where Mika is so he took it as his chance to skip his way closer to you. Mika stepped closer towards you and danced alongside you. You were so immersed to the song that you didn't notice he was there just now. The singing voice is about to fade away Mika appreciated your voice ever since the day he heard you sing, the day he saw you danced, and the day he saw you create art. It was completely rare for someone like you who has hidden talent, could attract a young artist like him. Even if many times these feelings get lost He was glad that he performed alongside you, even if you didn't notice that he was here just now. Give in this spring, we shall repeat this love again You could feel the song as if it embraced you. You were right, it embraced you, like a person in a hermitage. It's as if the song carried your soul away and made you less distracted to your surroundings as if you didn't care who or what was around you. "With a kiss that will inspire your heart..." He held out his hand, as if to reach you. He smiled as you did the same. Your eyes widen when you took a glance beside you. His amber and lapis-like eyes glanced back in a moment to your own. They were beautiful, indeed. Your mind began to panic as he looked at you with such loving gaze with a genuine smile. "...in this eternity..." Your voice was caught in your throat that you heard him sing. You weren't dreaming. This is not a hallucination after an adrenaline rush, not an hallucination from overworking, and not an illusion or not a see-through item like glass. 'Mika?! The Mika Kagehira?! Of Valkyrie?! Oh, God... He's really here?!' You mentally panicked that you froze on the spot, mouth agape, and eyes open wide. "Hm? (Name)? Are ya alright?" Mika tilted his head in confusion. He checked to see if you're alright by poking your cheek and blood rushed up to your cheeks, giving out a pure blush, which was either out of pure embarrassment that someone saw you dance and heard you sing or you being flustered that the young idol you admire from afar is here and witnessed almost everything. Mika stepped back, surprised on what he saw. 'Move, you dummy! You always met him at Yumenosaki! Act normally!' You internally screamed to yourself but you couldn't move. "Ngh... Earth to (Name)? Ya okay?" Mika waved his hand in front of your eyes and looked closer. "She looks like a doll right now..." Mika said his thought out loud. He saw you slowly blink, once then quick at the second and twice and you're awake. "Good evening, Kagehira..." You uttered. You saw him staring into your eyes and you stared back as he greeted you back. "Good evenin', (Name)." Your eyes couldn't leave this staring contest that you were so sure that moment you were finally awake from the unknown reverie you felt after you felt your heart skipped a beat. You were finally back to your sensed that you stood up properly after the sudden awkward tension you felt between you two. You cleared your throat and asked him, "What brings you here at this time of hour?" "Ah, right. Teach asked me to look for Sis Mado because he might've misplaced her somewhere." Mika explained everything what happened and you nodded. He turn around to see Madmoiselle sitting on the bench and said, "Well, it seems I found her so I'll bring her back to Starmony Dorm." You look to where Madmoiselle is as Mika took her and gently carried her in his arm. "It's nice spending time with you even if it's a little, (Name)." She said sadly. "Likewise, Madmoiselle." You sadly replied. You look up to face Mika and excused yourself to leave since it was getting dark and you have to return back to the building. As Mika saw your figure disappearing into the distance, he held out his hand to reach you but failed when you're too far away from him. His smiling expression faltered into a gloomy one. Madmoiselle noticed this and decided to tell him everything what had happened today to Shu. Little the three of you know that someone was watching from the distance and witness everything that is being unfolded. As if the curtain had closed a moment ago, they had left the vicinity and returned to the dorm without making any noise or being seen by anyone close by.

The next day, you're in ES's clothing room and you're spending the day planning for the add-ons for the design for the next exclusive outfit while listening to Acanthe for the nth time of the day on repeat. You were relieved that no one here is interrupting you. You look around to see if anyone else is in the room and you sighed in relief. Satisfied and undisturbed, you began to hum the song while the melody is playing at your earphones. You forgot that the door is half-open that you saw a mop of dark green hair entering the room the moment you glanced. You ignored it and continued to hum. "Someday, your heart will blow and you will kiss me..." You were drowned in thoughts as the melody continued to clear your mind that you didn't notice someone was sitting on the chair near you. You look up to see who it was and the music stopped as you remove your earphones. It's as if he knew where you stopped singing, he continued it for you. "...in this eternity..." He looked at you the same way he looked at you last night in Sky Garden. He never failed to make your heart flutter once again with that innocent, child-like smile, those heterochromic eyes that somehow represents day and night, that dark green hair that you once saw it as black from afar but it revealed as a dark, burnt, emerald when close. "(Name), yer starin' again. 'S there somethin' in my face?" His words make you awake from your trance. You realized the close proximity you two had and the gentle warmth you felt on your forehead. It's so warm that you felt like sleeping and leaning on his touch. 'Was he always here whenever I sing that song...?' "I heard from Naru that yer overworkin' to the bone again. Ya really need to rest. Yer a human ya know?" Mika said with concern. He was stunned when he felt you leaning on to his hand that was on your forehead and fall forwards to the table. Luckily, he stopped you from falling to not to hit your head on the hard table. What's worse for you is that there are pens and pencils on it. His eyes laid down on your sketchpad but shook his head. '(Name's) priority comes first. Teach will be mad if he saw them like this again. Sis Mado will be worried...' "Ngh..." He groaned out of fear and worry. He carried you in his arms and headed towards the couch and placed you there, gently and carefully. Mika worried looked at you when he remembered himself, his past self and that made him worry even more. "Yer better rest (Name)." He quietly whispered, a volume that only he and you could hear. "Yer a producer. Everyone's rooting for ya. Ya don't need to overwork yerself." He inched closer to see if you're fully rested and you were. He stayed there and watched you sleep peacefully. He wants to whisper to you a lot of things but he couldn't say it. He loves you but he couldn't say it. It pained him and he knew that all too well. He knows that his emotions control him but couldn't do so anymore because of his days as a doll. Now that he is not, he still couldn't control it even it was an accident. Then, he gave up. "(Name)..." He whispered your name. "What if I tell ya that I like ya...?" He shook his head once again. He knew all too well that you're sound asleep and knows that you couldn't hear him. He ate a candy until he felt himself drifting off to sleep. Wave of exhaustion washed over him these past days. He is working hard for Valkyrie, of course. Your eyes fluttered open as you let out a low hum and try to remember where you were right now. The moment you saw his face right in front of you, you blinked once, and twice. Alarmed at the proximity between you and him, you yelped, which made the male jolt up from his sleep and fall back to the floor and hurt his back. "My apologies, Kagehira. Are you alright?" You immediately rise up and rushed to the male who was on the floor. You checked if he was hurt elsewhere until you heard him chuckle. You saw him smile as he scratched his cheek. "I'm fine. Nothin' to worry." You exhaled in relief. "Thank goodness..." You began to wonder why is he here and not with Shu and Madmoiselle. You checked the time at the clock facepalmed yourself. They left Japan minutes ago. "Right... Teach told me to check on ya once I return to ES after he left for his flight to France." Mika look away with a faint blush shown on his face. "The moment I got here, ya spaced out and sing the same song from last night. Ya really liked it, don't ya?" You nodded at his question. The same awkward tension you felt before is back again. You stood up and let out your hand. He accepted it and helped him to stand up. As he was finally standing on his own two feet, you told him to sit down and you apologized for scaring him. "Hm? It's okay. I was the one who supposed to be apologizin' here..." He said as he scratched the back of his neck. You leaned back to the couch and exhaled. You were exhausted and barely had enough rest these past few days. The only time you could relax is to be alone and to sing your heart out. Mika heard your sigh looked at you. He remembered something to make you sleep, as what Madmoiselle, Ritsu, and Arashi had told him before. "Don't tell me ya can't sleep well, (Name)?" Mika asked and you nodded. "Would ya mind if I sing for ya?" "I wouldn't mind..." Your words ended with a small yawn. He smiled and began to hum. 'Ah, it's the same song again...' You thought and you felt him pulling closer to you gently. He guided your head to lean on his shoulder and rubbed your arm with his hand as he lulled you to sleep. His voice may be melancholic, but it was gentle as light, giving its way in the dark. You were so sure that you heard someone whispering to you when you fell asleep a moment ago. You disregarded it and you muttered it out, as if to respond to that mystery person's question. "What if... I tell you that... I like Kagehira...?" Mika stopped his humming as he heard you said those words. It was too coherent that it caught his attention. He blinked twice. He was so sure he heard his name. He held you tight, but not too tight that will make you awake. Pink covered his cheeks and red began to spread all over. He covered his mouth to hide that goofy smile on his face. It was completely written as "(Name) like me? Did I heard that right?"

He began to remember your previous conversation with Madmoiselle back at Yumenosaki, when you visited the Handicrafts Club room. "He was able to express other human emotions that a doll couldn't have. One time, he was thankful that he was able to feel an another human emotion, other than pain, guilt, anger, and joy, and it's all because of you." Madmoiselle told you as you placed the decorations on the table. "Because of me? How?" You tilted your head as you asked her. "Because you are more human than you think." She answered. "Well, I am indeed a human." You replied. "I'm not a human if I don't feel any emotion." "That's what Tsumugi told Mika back then." She giggled and you nervously chuckled. 'What kind of doll is she...?' You sat down on one of the chairs near Madmoiselle and sighed. "Says the one who has a human knowledge..." Mika didn't mean to eavesdrop on you and Madmoiselle. He overheard her saying his name that he leaned closer to the door and listened closely. "Say, (Name), do you have hidden feelings towards Mika?" Mika nearly slammed the door open but abstained himself from doing so. "N-No...? Why?" You hesitantly answered. "Don't say that. I know you have that. You always look at him differently from others when you're doing your work as a producer here in Yumenosaki." She said. Mika internally panicked and leaned on the wall. 'I did tell her that...!' He heard you sigh. "Alright. You got me. I did have feelings towards him. I like Mika." You paused for a moment and remembered a rule that existed in the idol industry. "But idols and producers can't be together. It'll be better if I disregard these feelings and move on." You're right, even Mika just remembered that rule. "You can tell him that you do like him as (Name), not the you as a producer." Madmoiselle told you and you felt like falling from a cliff or burying yourself alive six feet under the ground. "It's unhealthy for someone to hide their own personal feelings and prevent it from overflowing— unless if they knew how to control it or preventing it from doing so. But in your case, you couldn't." You began to sulk because a doll told you that. A doll, a doll that has unknown human knowledge and it seemed like it was based on written literature that can be found anywhere in the world, a doll that was given great love and care, and a doll that was owned by an artist named Shu Itsuki. You sighed in defeat. Mika on the other hand, sunk down to his knees and felt like screaming his heart out. That was the day that he knew you felt the same. His mind wandered around and think. A questioned popped up in his mind and it repeated like a broken recorder. "When will be the time that (Name) will tell her feelings to me? When will be the time that I'll be able to confess to her?" His smile faltered. He knew that it was nearly possible. He did overheard you saying that you like him. He wanted you to say that in front of him soon. But he know all too well that you kept holding on to these rusted, broken, and lonely feelings you once called. He reached out to you, and came closer to you, the person in Hermitage. One day, if there is a time that someone will embrace you tightly in this eternity, it will come true. Right now, it already did. He will wait for you to speak out. He will wait for you to love him back. He will wait and always will.

It feels like years when it was actually weeks when he last communicated with you. You ignored him these past weeks and it pains him. Were you tired of spending time with him? Talking to him? Sharing your creative thoughts to him? Or was it something else? Then he finally knew why, a person like you, whose love was decorated with scars, became the proof that you've transcended time itself. You've fought and withstood everything that you forgot to love once again. He knew that you forgot to care yourself that you've became weaker than you always were. You prevent your feelings to overflow out of you and you gave up on everything. You avoided him because of these lingering feelings whenever he's near. You overworked yourself to the bone until you collapsed. Mika waited for you to talk to him again but his patience snapped like a thread when he heard that you're in the infirmary from Arashi. He rushed to the infirmary and to see if you're alright. He saw you, alright, sleeping peacefully but wasn't relieved when he saw your current physical condition. Your eyes that was full of life, turned dull and lifeless. He knows it even if it's closed. Your arms that carried anything with such strength, became thin. He was so scared to hold you that you might break. And your skin that was smooth and fair, became pale and dry. He still have time and he knows it. He sat on the chair beside the table and waited for you to wake up. Tears began to fall from his beautiful, azure and amber eyes. He weeped. He held your hand and gently squeezed it. You are so thin, thinner than you usually were that he was scared that you might break, like a porcelain doll. You indeed look like one but you seemed like you're on the verge of breaking. Mika waited and waited for you to wake up. Even on the middle of his work, all he could think of is you. Whenever Shu called him and Mika could only let out a small noise of guilt, Madmoiselle reassured him that you'll be alright once you wake up. He couldn't eat nor sleep well. Arashi and Ritsu comforted him. Including the rest of the Pretty 5. He is so worried that he was too close on ending up on the same condition as you and luckily, they prevented him from doing so. They help him stood strong for you and he wanted to do that to you the same. Days later, you woke up from your long rest. Your eyes opened to see the all-familiar white ceiling above you. Your hand feels limp yet the touch is sensitive from the warmth enveloped on it. You turned your head to see Mika sleeping at the bedside, holding your hand, as if not to let you go while waiting for you to wake up. You tried to call his name but your throat feels dry, like the drought in summer. You saw him waking up from his slumber and looked at you as he rubbed his eyes to stay awake. He pounced on you and hugged you firmly yet gently, not too tight and not too loose. "Yer back! I thought ya died..." He said as he began to sob. You pat his back for reassurance. He let you go and faced you. "Ya slept for four days! Everyone's worried about ya!" "..rry..." You tried to voice out but your dry throat won't let you do so. "You don't hafta apologize! It's not yer fault why yer like this!" "...t is..." You spoke out and tried to give moisture to your dry throat with your saliva. "Mi...ka... I—" "Not now, (Name). Ya hafta rest more." He cut you off as he gave you a glass of water. You weakly took it from his hand and drink it slowly. "I'm... sorry... I shouldn't—" "(Name), please..." Mika begged you to stay in the bed. "Mika, please, listen to me." "Talk to me after ya recovered. That can wait." He said as he assisted you to lie down on the bed. You held his hand to make him stay. You saw his eyes. He seemed hurt. You did as he said and kept your mouth shut but you didn't let go of his hand. You tried to tell him to stay but the other half of you wanted to tell him to go. So why? Why didn't you let him go? Silence remained in the infirmary. Mika stayed like what you told him to. Everything is too heavy for you that tears fell from your eyes. You couldn't let out the cry from the weight you've bear. It was too heavy that it's hard for you to let it all out. It was a silent one, indeed. Mika saw the constant flow of tears coming out of your eyes and comforted you. You immediately hugged him and constantly apologized to him. He was startled at your sudden actions to him. He became baffled on why you apologized to him. He didn't make a mistake to you or did any. "It's alright, (Name). Let it out." Mika whispered as he returned the hug you gave him. Soft sniffles and hics resonated in the infirmary. You wished that if only you could apologize to him properly and not like this someday soon.

Mika constantly visit you after his work. He took care of you even Anzu was there to bring you back to shape. From breaks to lunch and after work hours, he always visit you as you recover. Anzu scolded you for not taking care of yourself when she even did the same to herself. But in your case, it was worse than hers. Days passed and you recovered. You tried to return back to your work but Mika and Arashi stopped you from doing so. Even most of the units told you to rest just because you've recovered. Remembering that you're still a student, you ignored them and remained busy at your school works, which you were caught by a fellow producer of yours. That left no other choice for you but to rest and do nothing except for participating in classes, much to your chagrin. You sighed as you sat under the tree at the rooftop of the school building, where you could finally have peace. No Anzu stopping you from doing your producer work, no Ritsu tackling you down to the ground to make you sleep with him, and no Yuzuru to bring you to the student council office to have you drink tea with Tori and Mao. As the day was finally coming close to its end, you stayed there before leaving the campus to work at Ensemble Square. You lied down on the bench and felt the afternoon sun shining down on you. It was warm and gentle, just like how he held you back then. Your eyes shot wide open when you realized that almost everything reminded you of him. It annoys you almost every time. (W/N: ngl this happened to me all the time and I got sick of it.) You shook your head to remove the thoughts in your mind and rest. You felt peaceful once again and relaxed the you leaned sideways to see the late afternoon sky, shading from violet to orange. Just as you were about to close your eyes, a figure blocked the view and your scrunched your brows and nose up in annoyance. "I found ya." Mika sat down to your level and tilted his head to see you properly. That look of annoyance on your face just now disappeared and turned into a calm expression. How could you be mad when it's someone like Mika? "Ya seemed like yer like a cat who's about to kill someone? Ya okay?" Mika asked you out of curiosity? You questioned back, "Do I seem like one?" He nodded and grinned, "A cute one at that." You turned your body, making your back face Mika. You didn't want him to see that blush growing red on your cheeks. "Er, did I offend ya? Sorry..." He apologized and scratched his cheek. You immediately sit up and reassured him that you're not. The panicked look on his face turned into a relieved one. Cats are indeed cute, aren't they? You sighed. You cupped his cheek with your hand and rubbed your thumb. You felt him leaning to your touch and slyly grinned. You felt your heart squeeze like how one would squeeze a lemon by hand. Your other hand went to his hair and petted his head. You felt him leaning closer and rested his head on your lap. A blush began to spread across your cheeks until it covered your whole face. "(Name)... do ya like someone...?" Your flustered self didn't hear that question that you subconsciously answered him yes. "Really? Who is it?" You felt your heart stop at his question that you tried to process everything. "Can you repeat your question, Kagehira?" You wanted to hear his question once again to make sure you're not hearing anything wrong. "I asked ya if ya liked someone. You said yes and I'm asking ya who." He look up to see your face and stared into your eyes. You look back and said, "If I tell you who, would you still sing with me again?" He nodded at your question. Your spirit waved the white flag and ignore what will happen to you if you sold your soul to a demon. Mika sat down beside you and waited for you to say who. You were hesitant at first but you gave up and confessed, "It's you... Kagehira." Mika blinked once, then twice and brazenly replied, "I thought ya hated me that yer always away from me these past days." You look away and lost eye contact with him and admitted everything to him. "The reason why I took distance away from you and increase my workload more is because I wanted to ignore my feelings towards you. Producers and idols can't be in a relationship, Kagehira. That's why I created distance away from you. I'm sorry." Mika hugged you tight. "No wonder... Now I know why ya kept apologizing to me at the infirmary back then." He patted your back and you felt your tears coming out of your eyes. It hurts to cry but another wave of tears won't hurt, right? That's it. You're now waiting for him to leave you after this. "To be honest, I felt the same so don't feel bad okay?" Mika whispered to your ear as you felt more tears flowing out from the corners of your eyes. A moment ago, it was sadness but now it was full of pure joy. You didn't expect him to feel the same as you do. You wiped your tears and you felt Mika making you lean on to him. Now that you admitted it, you told him, "You know... it's better if we remain as friends. I'm not ready to be in a relationship with you, Kagehira." "It's fine, (Name). I can wait for ya to tell me if yer ready to date me." You smiled at his response and laid your head on his shoulder. It was reciprocated, indeed. But no one knows if it will last long. You thought that it won't stay long after you confessed to him. There will be a time that you'll disappear in this world and never return and leave him behind. But there was one thing that you didn't know and that is he will love you like a warmth in spring and shall never forget you even if you disappear. Even if there's no end to the seasons that come and go, he will be there to accompany you and will always be with you. Even without a word coming out of you, he knows that there is a soul inside. With the tears you both had shed, he'll gently tie these and use them to tell a story. The story you shared and created with him in this sleeping Hermitage, where you were being perished in this longing and illusion, he inched closer and reached you while you're holding on to these rusted, broken, and lonely feelings. Your wish when someday that he, will blow your heart and kiss you, embrace you tightly, and with a kiss that will inspire your heart in this eternity finally came true.

W/N:

Don't judge me. I'm fighting writer's block like how my life depends on it. *Proceeds to continue my speech and draft for the clubworks* Anyways, before I could disappear again, I made two pics for the fic like

He's so beautiful and you cannot argue with me.

I even have to ask my ValkyrieP (+EdenP and Double FaceP) friends at discord to pick a pic and somehow, it ended up as a "SwitchP fighting for their life from ValkyrieP's at their natural habitat with their very own companions" sumthn like that.

Anyways, bye.

[notyourtypicalfool]

7th August 2024

Today was a good day. I took a day off and slept during the day time and in the afternoon helped mom with cooking and some house chores and then it rained in the evening which was so good to experience. I lived most of my life in coastal region in the west and now although still in India I have moved to north where it doesn’t really rain as much and it doesn’t feel as good to me either. I realised today that I have become such a homebody here because I have no appreciation for nature here only because there’s no sea view, there are no lakes near by and there are no good parks. I feel like I have brought myself to a place where although I appreciate art and nature a lot, it’s how I survive I can’t do much of it and it honestly upsets me this is what makes it so bland and by it I mean life. Without nature, love and beauty life is pretty bland. I have also lived in south where the weather was almost alwys perfect and it rained beautifully any time, there wasn’t a sea view or a lake near by but I could observe birds and greenery through my window.

So today when it rained and I sat by the window with my cat and read it felt sort of complete, satisfactory as if this is now life is supposed to be. I read for hours and it rained for hours and after a long long time I have almost finished the book. It means a lot to me to appreciate the nature because nature has always made space for me to keep me somewhat sane. And today to realise that nature of where I currently live makes me feel bland makes me sad. I’m glad it rained and I’m glad I read but I am not happy. I am calm and peaceful and not depressed but I am not happy.

I planned to journal this but when I sat down to write and I did end up writing something I realised what wanted to come out wasn’t and so I’m here typing away my experiences and feelings of today.

You see I belong to north but I never appreciated north because of its people here and I still don’t feel like I truly appreciate anywhere the people and their existence but the ones close to me live in west and south and they aren’t going anywhere or coming close to me in the near future. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision to move here, my entire family altogether moved to this place where we live in zero ownership and in uncertainty. People treat us differently here too. Where we were before, we were sort of considered elites and here we commute using cabs because we still don’t know the place.

Idk what most of you all will think about this but I miss the place where I grew up.

I have decided to visit good places nearby whether that’s art museums or gardens and parks with my family. And take a bunch of photos and live like this is going to be one of the good days. I can’t mention the places I want to go here to keep it all discreet ofc but I’m sort of excited.

I will find ways to appreciate whatever I can, till I can.

Last year was the first time I experienced the entire stretch of winter here and truly being all cuddly and cosy and honestly I enjoyed the feeling of sitting in the sun and not turning on fans and sleeping by the window at night. These are the perks of moving to north I guess.

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

how do you find or decide what piece of art to use for an edit? what are your sources for finding artworks to use for your edits?

hello my dear!

what a lovely question! my answer is incredibly long, so I apologize in advance for that, but I tried to make it as organized as possible. I'm also going to put it under a cut, since I rambled on for quite a while 😅 but this was such a rich question - so thank you again!! ☺️☺️

if you have other questions lingering after this, please feel free to reach out again! 🥰🥰

how do I decide which artwork to use for an edit?

for the most part, when deciding what artwork to use, I look for some kind of visual or thematic resonance with the lyrics I plan to use

for example, in this edit, I used the lyrics "I don't like that falling feels like flying til the bone crush" with lament for icarus by herbert james draper. there were a number of parallels I wanted to draw here:

visual parallels: those lyrics come from "gold rush" by taylor swift, and the painting itself is suffused in gold tones. I also used a golden glow on some of the words to emphasize this connection

thematic parallels: icarus is famously known for his fall from the sky, and the lyrics I chose literally discuss falling, so that was another resonance I wanted to pull out

random parallels that perhaps exist only in my mind: I wanted to emphasize the ending of a story with both the lyrics and the painting. in the painting, we see icarus after he has fallen, but for those familiar with the myth, his prior flight and fall are implied. the lyrics discuss the metaphorical joy of flight until it turns into a freefall, but what we are actually seeing here is the "bone crush." in this way, I liked that we're looking at the end of a story that in some ways tells the whole story. the lyrics and art both imply the existence of a previous moment of rapturous flight which turned into a tragic fall, even though they only actually show the aftermath of both. idk if that makes any sense so just ignore this one if this is absolutely incompressible 😅

basically, these are the kinds of resonances I like to seek out. sometimes the lyrics come first and I look for a painting that fits well with them, and sometimes it's the other way around. other times I see an artwork and immediately lyrics will pop into my head, or vice versa, where I'll hear lyrics and instantly think of a painting that would fit them so well

not all of my edits have every level of parallels, but I do like to make sure that they at least have some sort of thematic resonance that ties them together!

I hope that explains my process at least a little! ☺️☺️

where do I find artworks for my edits?

there are four big resources/approaches that I use, so I'll go through each one here ☺️

general art history knowledge: since I'm doing an art history phd, I just happen to have a lot of exposure to a lot of different kinds of art. between the hours I spent in class, doing readings, and doing my own research, I just end up absorbing a lot of potential artists and artworks to use. I actually have a page in my notes app devoted to things I see that I may want to use for edits in the future 😅. however, I completely understand that this is not an experience that a lot of people have. but I am more than happy to offer myself as a resource!! if you ever have a question or a vision in mind but don't know where to start looking for art, feel free to reach out and ask! I am by no means in expert in every facet of art history, but I would be absolutely delighted to use what knowledge I do have to help you in any way I can! 🥰🥰

image collections: there are a number of fantastic digital resources available for browsing historical art! museum websites and their digital collections are always a great place to start. many libraries also have extensive digitized collections which often include prints, drawings, photos, and illustrations, even if they don't have paintings or other larger artworks. a couple that I've used in the past are the library of congress and the bibliotheque nationale de france, but there are so many more out there. if you're affiliated with a university, you may have access to resources like artstor, which has a huge repository of images. depending on the databases to which your local library subscribes (which are often a lot!! libraries are so cool and I highly recommend checking out the resources they have!!), you may have access to a number of other databases like artstor. wikimedia commons is also a fantastic resource, since they have categories you can browse like "women with skulls in art" or "red textiles in portrait paintings." obviously not every artwork that fits those parameters are included, but the amount of images they have is incredible. my one caution here is that the search function doesn't allow for a lot of specificity unless you already know the name of a category you're looking for. finally, google arts & culture/google art project tends to have really high quality images of artworks, but is also not the easiest to search unless you already know the name of an artist or artwork that you're looking for. whew okay that's a lot, but please let me know if I can answer any more specific questions about any of these amazing resources!

art accounts: I truly discover so much fantastic art by following other accounts that post art historical content! I follow a number both on here and on instagram, and it's always amazing to see what other people discover 🥰. some are more specific, like posting art just from a specific era/period, or curating different color themes, while others just post anything that they find compelling. I end up finding so many artworks this way, and it's also a fantastic way to connect with other people who like art historical stuff!

following rabbit holes: this is more of an approach than a specific resource, but I highly encourage everyone to explore things they like!! if you see an artwork that really resonates with you, look up the artist and see what other kind of work they've done. find out if they are identified with a particular period or movement and then look up other artists from that movement. see if you like any of the art produced by those artists and then keep going! I have found so much incredible art just by being curious about a single artwork, and it's also a great way to expand your art historical knowledge in general ☺️

yikes okay now that I've written you a whole novel, I hope that at least some of this info was helpful!!

thank you again for the wonderful question! (and thank you so much for reading this all if you got this far! 🥰)

as I said above, I would be genuinely delighted to help with anything that I can! the reason that I want to be a professor is to let people get excited about art, so anything I can do to facilitate that is pretty much my dream 🥰

thank you again dearest anon and I hope you have a lovely, art-filled day!! 💖💕💖💕

[theminecraftgay]

Main blog moment because I keep thinking about this and it’s killing me and maybe someone will get it

I’m an art student. Yesterday, we had a very successful alum come in and talk with us. His art is heavily inspired by cartoons, so it resonated with me a lot as someone interested in fine art with an adoration for cartoons and stylized works. His talk was inspiring, hopeful, and overall it felt great to see a local artist going national from my community college. We thanked him, he left, and we moved on to critique.

Critique came and my prof loved my work. She called a few of my pieces “gallery ready” and praised my colors and use of material. In the end, she kept one of them, but only after saying she wished she could keep them all for our arts dept review. And I felt AWFUL. After the talk we just had, I thought I’d be happy. I just saw someone who is successful who thinks the way I do with art, but when I actually got recognized for my skills, it made me want to disappear.

I don’t know why. I keep thinking about it, and it makes me feel physically sick. I’m vending at a comic con soon, my art prof likes my work, I’m starting to actually get commissions every few months, but for some reason having my work praised in front of my class made me want to melt away and die. It’s been a day and I still feel like shit! Why! I want to do this forever. My art has been tattooed. I’ve helped with murals- one of which was in our state museum for a short while! I should be happy that I am finally, after years of work, being praised for what I do- but I’m not.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just messed up imposter syndrome. Art is all I want to be known for, I work hard and probably do deserve praise for it. I know it’s also hard when no one sees the effort I put in. Idk

[athousandbyeol]

helo helo helo

i have something which you might love its guncher related

now before you answer this ask i want you need you (but it's okie if you don't want to tho no pressure) to watch all the videos they've uploaded every single one from start to end or end to start however you wish

https://www.tiktok.com/@ultppw?_t=8dxxJhUS14b&_r=1

because let me tell you their edits need to be in a museum its art its beautiful it keeps guncher alive its <i dont have the perfect words for it>

idk if you'll like it but I am sure you would but also I was hesitant to share ncoz idk I've been wanting yo share these with you for a while now but never had the balls but today they blew my mind again and I was like you need yo watch their videos and damnnn u in be the judge sorry ia m just blabbering voz kdkk nbm lemme just gooo

#I am calm now a bit

#not so high in forcebook almost wedding theme event

#i thank you for your time and keeping up wkth my weird random sometimes nnsecne rants

#okie bye

<3

op, actually, i don't have a tiktok account hehe but it's ok! i'm watching it on my laptop so it's fine.

i'm currently watching the videos. oh my, God! this one. ceilings is one of my all-time favourite songs and this creator used it for topmew? it's already in my topmew playlist but lord seeing someone using it for them breaks my heart even more :(

this one teared me up because i just LOVE guncher cuddling on that big bed of gun's and just looking so happy and warm and sated <'3

this one is so sweet :( i like when creators utilise cher and tian's past relationship as something that helps cher grow into the devoted, loving (yet still endearingly silly) man he is :') it's just so wonderful cher loved tian in the past, and cher loves gun in the future; his feelings for them both are so strong and sincere. :(

goodness this one :( i've discussed silence with guncher before but gun specifically is the epitome of silence. his sadness is so quiet and behind the scenes that i feel almost everyone can relate with him :( it's so heartbreaking...

this one makes me really sad (the good kind) because it's one of my favourite songs and all clips are some of my favourite guncher clips (especially the ep 12 part 2 kiss) oh my oh my :(

THE SONG? THE CLIPS? THIS CREATOR IS SO TALENTED WAHHH <'3 <'3 <'3

this remains as some of the best confessions to date! and gun's smol 'huh?' will always wreck me AHHHHH cher, you're the man! you're a rockstar!

BUTTERFLIES!!! goodness. this one is insane. the tension! CRAZY

ok, i've watched all their videos, op. goodness. i wanted to jump off my bed to the floor SO MANY times. all edits are amazing! and i'm not a swiftie, but all her songs suit guncher in so many different ways.

now, do i have to make a tiktok account? hahahaha

thanks for recommending this person's page, op! i enjoyed every video immensely.

[boba-beom]

OMG after so long I am here with my thoughts and review, finally.

First of all, Ashlee. You fucking did it again. I want to start off with saying how much I love this concept, and the way that this could resonate with almost everyone regardless whether they are a creator of some sort or not. However, your opening paragraphs was literally the perfect depiction of how it feels to be so stuck and irritated of yourself, the feelings and emotions are so raw, when you lose that work pace and it hinders you in a way it almost hinders you as a whole, it literally can be so unfortunate.

Okay so it's 4am as I type this out, bear with me as I gather my points together in chronological order and as cohesive as I can get it to be T^T

Firstly, the description in which you used to introduce yeonjun genuinely had me feel that attraction towards him. the intricacy and attention to detail of yeonjun (and in general but I will get to that) sitting there had me excited in anticipation for the moment they would interact with one another. Another thing for me was the fact that this beautiful human and this first observation was the start to mc being inspired again, and this just made me feel so excited for the upcoming interactions between them, literally had to ready myself.

The inclusion of visiting sculptures and just references back to artwork had me feeling so giddy. I miss the days I would travel with my class to different cities around England to visit museums and art galleries. This is feeling so nostalgic for me and it's bringing me that sense of happiness I miss so much, hence I wanted to take my time on reading this one — despite me being several months late :')

After mc and yeonjun passing by each other several times, I couldn't help but feel giddy every time there was a possibility of them interacting. Like at the cloud gate bean yeonjun could have potentially spoken to mc, and then at the club where mc literally walked past him. Just the chances of them gradually interacting had me sitting the same way mc was when yeonjun initiated the interaction and asked to sit with her. A part of me was getting so, agh I'm gonna have to use this tagalog word kilig and the closest translation I can give is when one feels romantic excitement, because that's literally how I was feeling every time they interacted with one another.

The subtle flirting made me melt inside, I kid you not. I was cheesing so hard to the point I could hear my heart beating through my headphones. To me, it was just the simplicity of 'out of nowhere, he asks, “have you had breakfast?”' and then his teasing comment, '‘I think the plaid pants are pretty fashionable’' it may be nothing major, but to me this was like those moments when you know it's the start of something 🤭 It was cute to me ngl.

Also, idk if it's just me, but it's was such a movie moment when they were having dinner and the whole back and forth between the girls asking mc 'is that your boyfriend' 'sounds like a boyfriend situation' AND THEN them wanting to message him on behalf of mc only for him to message her right then and there had me, kilig 🤭 I'm sorry but men who initiate with forwardness >>> even just a simple coffee had me FOLDING.

Keshi's Understand was playing while I read the scene of their coffee date and it just made the exchange so cute. yeonjun showing mc the picture of her as she starts to understand the beauty of herself she never used to see. something about that was so endearing, I couldn't stop smiling to myself at this point, had me sad pouting and all.

Then the part where they went to the botanical gardens. THIS! THIS PART,, when I tell you I didn't know whether to squeal or cry because I genuinely had tears in my eyes when yeonjun asked mc to be his model for the day. not just that, but also the fact he held mc back with his fingers around her wrist, it's so delicate while asking her. it made my heart leap omg. You know what it was, it was this line, "I'm the professional here, and I want you. no one else will do." think that had me tearing up because he's so straight forward, no sense of hesitation anywhere to be found at all. it's such an attractive characteristic, and the fact it's so tailored to him too had me rereading that line,, not without pausing for a second lmaoo

The scene where mc shows yeonjun her drawing of him, this section ashlee omg. as a former art student and a designer graduate, I felt every single feeling mc felt when criticising her drawing, and understood every word yeonjun said about being your own worst critic. This hit super close to home, but it felt nice to see something I could relate to. And I know some, if not most, writers on this platform feels the same way in terms of writers block, or a burnout from writing and not liking how it turned out. I think what was said was something all creators needed to hear. whether it's something that we take as a profession or as a hobby. beauty is in the eye of the beholder when it comes to any form of creative work, there will always be one person out there who may love the piece more than you, yourself. sorry, I rambled on this one.

Can I just mention how much I love you for using this phrase? 'if you are icarus, then he is the sun sending you plummeting down into oblivion.' idek if 'love' is the right term to describe unfortunate phrase, but the way you used this was too beautiful to look past it. it isn't often I hear / see the phrase, but it also reminded me of these two songs; icarus — EDEN and First Burn — from the Hamilton musical :>

I think this is my last paragraph of me screaming about the point in the work where I stopped my bullet point notes and continued to engulf myself in finishing it. But let me squeal about the lines, 'he's staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, chin supported by his palm. his mouth curves into something serene and fond, hooded eyes scanning your face as you stare back.' this, again, just felt so movie like. it's one of those moments you never thoughts you'd experience irl, but this, just the way you worded that portrayed just how warm and fuzzy I feel inside.

I'm going to bring up the part where yeonjun introduced himself with his given name than his english name, this??? "when i met you, my actual name, my given name, came out instead. call me silly, but i think my heart knew you’d become someone special to me. i wanted you to use my actual name — the one my parents call me. the one my closest friends call me.” this was so precious, a sign of trust and metaphorically letting mc see who he is without having to hide behind his english name. this just does it for me, literally has me grabbing my heart. fun fact! same goes with me and my nickname, but the other way around :> I introduce myself with my birth name and I don't even tell people that my nickname is Smiles unless I've got a close relationship with them hehe, anyway ,,

The roller coaster of emotions I felt from when they almost kissed at the bar WITH THE CLOSE PROXIMITY that really almost took me out. I felt like I was burning up because of that omgggg, and then the whole BEOMGYU SHOWING UP AND THINKING YOU CAN JUST 'catch up' YOUR WAY BACK IN MC'S LIFE UH I THINK NAWT. anyway, I felt awful for yeonjun, bc he had every right to feel that way, mc could have straight up said no T^T but it's okay bc it worked out in the end~

Okay, and now for my general thoughts about the fic as a whole. I am completely in love with the pace you set mc and yeonjun to meet, get to know each other, and the break they had between them when beomgyu showed up. I don't know if this makes sense but just the realism with the timing in this fic is probably what I adore the most. I'm not sure if I ever told you this, but you are so articulate with your writing, and again, your attention to detail to express something to a T is something I admire about you and your works.

The several inclusions of paint/art-related sentences throughout the fic was satisfying to me in a way where I can visualise it clearly. Even the repeated mentions of yeonjun's ears flushing several tones of pink/red. The crimson and referring back to whether mc had that paint with her. And another time where his ears turned a shade of cherry, and finally an opaque red. The way they gradually turn a stronger shade of red was my understanding of his feelings gradually getting stronger throughout the story.

I'm going to briefly mention that the smut. Despite me being sat down, my knees buckled when he called mc 'pretty girl' just reminded me of him confessing and straight up calling her pretty when he was drunk </3 the intimacy between them was so domestic and loving UGH the outpours of petnames? to DIE for. and the way he just chuckles "I can do that." bc yes yeonjun, yes you can 🫠

Apologies for this incredibly long feedback, but I wanted to give you the rundown of my thoughts that I couldn't keep to myself. The cohesiveness throughout the story, the contrast from the start of the story where mc hadn't finished a piece in months, nor tried, to having a few quick art pieces done within the twelve days because of yeonjun. and this line, 'and when you wake up tomorrow, you think that you’re going to start a new painting.' UGH I love it. The open ending of potentially picking herself up again in terms of life and her artworks, and this is all from yeonjun being her muse, just as much as she was his model 😭 and just a quick mention of inyeon, everything about this was beautiful. I love things to do with fate and the invisible red string. The mention of inyeon reminds me that I need to watch Past Lives, I think you'll like it too :>

I wanna say just how amazed and proud I am of you and your efforts with this masterpiece. Keeping this in my reading reviews on my notion hehe I am honestly incredibly happy to have you as a friend, you're so talented and inspiring I just wanna kiss your brain >3< I can't believe I'm gonna have to say it, but this has surpassed that's the spirit! on my favourites from you <3 thank you again for putting so much time on this piece of work, I just know that when I hear the songs from the playlist elsewhere, I will associate them with this story just like how yeonjun and mc associate food and memories with people :> ILYSM ASHLEE YOU DID AMAZING!

ticket to nowhere (but your heart) (m) — cyj

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: strangers to lovers au, photographer!yeonjun, artist!reader, fluff, angst, smսt

wc: 22.3k

synopsis: twelve days. twelve days is all you have on this godforsaken train to find the spark that will save your dying art career — but you never thought that you would find it in the enigmatic stranger that you can’t seem to stop running into.

warnings: mdni!! ageless + blank blogs dni!!!, mc is bad with feelings, is alluded to have anxiety, and is written as shorter than jjun (i'm sorry to my taller friends, i love you) + the same age as him (24), this takes place in various places across the u.s. (sorry in advance), mentions of food + alcohol, vvvvv brief depiction of potential self-injury when describing a painting, beomgyu + le sserafim's sakura, chaewon, and yunjin (called jennifer here just bc i felt like it) are featured, dom!jjun, sub!mc, soft sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), light begging, multiple orgasms, protected sex (hooray!), missionary, praise

note: part of @majestyjun's yeonjun bday event!! REPOSTED bc tumblr decided to not let this show up in the tags (edit: it's now showing up!!) </3 also my longest fic to date, so that's something

*:･playlist･:*

(cross-posted to ao3 here!)

masterlist

everything in your life is bland. gray.

the food that you eat, the people that you become acquainted with, the skyscrapers above you that grasp for the sky and fail to reach it — they have all become so monotone and somber and utterly lifeless. something within you gnaws at itself, aching with pain — though the sharpness of the feeling has been blunted by the passing of time — because you used to adore the city that you call home. you used to find unrivaled beauty in the skyscrapers that spread across manhattan, in the lush green parks scattered amongst the urban landscape that would turn warm and golden as summer metamorphosed into autumn, in the people that would walk by you with their unapologetic, unique fashion and confidence. the very things you used to love have dulled in hue, washes of the vibrancy you once appreciated and took significant inspiration from. 

throughout your apartment lay half-baked paintings and charcoal drawings and pieces with odd compositions from that one month where you went through a mixed media phase, staring at you with their paint-streaked eyes, mocking you. finish us, their fragmentary faces scream. they beg for you to provide them with souls, to be their maker, their creator — but not quite their god. you are not pretentious enough to go that far, to paint yourself as that self-important, that narcissistic. you are far from a god. if you were, you would be in a larger apartment, a penthouse worth millions of dollars in soho or maybe the upper east side. if you were a god, you would purchase the finest art supplies in the world, have your pieces be displayed in major galleries to be auctioned off for hundreds of thousands — no, millions of dollars by pretentious art collectors to be hung up in their gaudy mansions, their own slices of heaven. however, in reality, you fall exceptionally short of a higher being; in truth, you are a rather simple woman who had transplanted herself from her suffocating hometown to brooklyn as soon as you completed your undergraduate degree. a tiny little apartment in brooklyn, new york city, new york — an adumbration of purgatory, floating somewhere between heaven and hell. trapped, trapped, trapped. nowhere to go. 

sitting on your bed, the balls of your feet pressed against the cool wooden floor, you ponder if these thoughts, this density of emotions burrowing into your stomach, are a symptom of burnout. maybe even artist’s block, though in the past you’ve often remarked that the concept doesn’t exist. you had never experienced it, so in your sorely narrow-minded view, it simply couldn’t be possible, and other artists were simply blaming their laziness on this elusive concept. what a fool you were for ever thinking that. shame hangs like a heavy weight within your chest; who are you to criticize the experiences of other artists when you know how difficult a creative’s life can be? how could you be so insolent? 

a raging hypocrite, really, is what you think you must be. a blank, blurry stare scans over your space, the coolness of the floor spreading up into your toes. an easel in the corner, near one of the small windows that allows for a view of mostly red brick, a sliver of blue-brown water where the hudson and east rivers meet, and a few lower manhattan skyscrapers that tower high in the air across the watery expanse. it’s not that far from your bed, which sits on the wall opposite below a second window, the slightest bit larger than the other one. most of your apartment is taken up by supplies rather than actual decor, a jar of paintbrushes on your small, round dining table in the corner near your kitchen instead of a vase of flowers, works-in-progress on the walls rather than posters, pictures. 

you live and breathe art, and your entire apartment reflects that, but the oxygen is getting thinner and thinner.

even then, you’re not quite sure how long you have felt this way — it’s not as if you woke up one day and noticed the change. it wasn’t sudden like a car accident, slamming into you one second and leaving you to cope with the aftermath the next. quite the opposite, really, more akin to the tide slowly coming to shore, washing over more of your body with each incoming wave. soothing, flowing along with each ebb and flow, pulling you further and further away from the beach until you have nowhere else to go but down. 

weak fingers dig into the white comforter below you, curling into the fabric with a surging desperation — for what, you are unsure. comfort? someone to hold you? you haven’t felt the embrace of another, the warm sensation of lips pressed against your own, in an embarrassingly long time. the dating world had slipped from your hands long ago, shattering on the floor like a snow globe, your wants and hopes and desires to love and be loved soaking your lacerated feet and stinging as it enters your wounds. your mind trails to beomgyu, a fellow artist who you had met when you could afford a private studio in a warehouse one burrow over. he was fun, a sappy romantic, and he made you laugh to no end — but he ruined you. he moved across the country without warning and you’d never heard from him again, leaving you heartbroken and with questions you’d never get answers to. you wonder how he’s doing now, if san francisco is treating him well. his number is still in your phone. you should delete it. you need to delete it. you need to make dinner. you need to finish that commission. you need to do a lot of things.

you need to get out of here. 

fuck, you do. the desperation surging within your veins takes the new form of a beast, clawing its way up your throat. you need to leave the city and experience new places and see new things and—

finally, you wrench yourself off of your bed after hours of sitting there. snatching your laptop from the floor, you search. you search and search and search for something that will get you out of this city, albeit temporarily. several different trips to italy — too expensive, and too far away from here. an airbnb in florida — you’ve never been a fan of humidity, and you don’t think only seeing one city will be enough to sate you. come on, come on, there has to be something. 

and then you find it: twelve days on a train, across the country. stops in chicago, denver, san francisco, seattle, and even a national park for half a day before looping back through chicago and back to new york. this sounds…perfect. your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the price as you scroll down. for you, it’s expensive, so fucking expensive, but…

“you need to let go and enjoy life for once,” one of your friends told you at a party a few months ago, when you were experiencing a less incapacitating version of the burnout you currently face, when you had thought it was a mere blip in your unending motivation. of course, you hadn’t listened to jennifer and her sound (and moscato-induced) advice, opting to throw yourself further into your art and ultimately fail at creating anything worthwhile. you regret it now, because you feel stuck. terribly, utterly stuck — but this is your chance to change that. 

you need this; you can make the sacrifice to your already thinning bank account, you think. let go, enjoy life. let go, enjoy life — you repeat those four words over and over again as you type in your card information, as you click the button to book the trip, as you read over the confirmation email that outlines the steps you need to take before you leave. let go, enjoy life, and you will. you will, and you will relight that dimming, nearly extinguished fire within you while you’re at it. you’ll make damn sure of it. 

day one. 

your heart is pounding. the rapid ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump roars in your ears like thunder as people upon people walk past, shoving against both of your shoulders as you stand in front of a board full of green and yellow and red. the sounds of voices and rolling luggage echo across the high, transparent ceilings of the station which allow for a view of the sky above. early mornings and you do not agree with each other, and today is no exception; poorly-veiled dark circles sit beneath your eyes, illuminated by the soft, warm light streaming in from above. looking down at your phone and back up at the screen again, you find that your train is thankfully on time, the bright green letters helping loosen the tightness gathered in your shoulders as you roll them back once, twice. your teeth skirt your bottom lip while you nod to yourself, then scan the spacious building for the escalator that will take you down to the correct platform. 

you hate that you’re nervous. the feeling twists your stomach into knots and flushes your face, cheeks hot as you stand there and wait out the remaining minutes before you can board. it doesn’t even make sense — you should be happy to get out of town, to go places you’ve never been to before, but all you can focus on is the unease creeping up your throat and blooming sour on your tongue. perhaps this is actually excitement that you are feeling. maybe you’re reading it all wrong — jennifer was more than ecstatic when you told her of your impromptu trip, saying “this is what you need! this might be your breakthrough!” 

ever since you met the her, she was always a degree more optimistic than you. looking on the bright side of things, no matter what dire circumstances lay splayed out across the dealer’s table. what’s stopping you from being the same way? several things, but at the same time, jennifer is right: you need this. your hands jitter with an odd combination of excitement and fear — maybe it’s simply the thought of solo travel that is so intimidating. yeah, it has to be. it will pass soon enough — hopefully. you roughly shove your set of headphones onto your head, slipping them over your ears. music will have to do for now, if only to prevent thoughts from racing through your head. 

once you board, you learn that your quarters are…small, though that was expected. it reminds you of your studio apartment, almost; cramped, but lacking the scattered paint tubes and canvases and miscellaneous mediums that you have not laid a single finger upon in months now. the small, travel-size tubes of paint sitting in your backpack weigh your shoulders down, begging to be taken out and spread across the small, flat canvases that are tucked snugly beside them. you muffle their pleas by turning up the music streaming through your headphones. closing the door behind you, you softly hum to the current song in your ears, shoving your suitcase in the corner of the room. 

once the attendant checks your ticket, you decide to take a nap — who cares if it’s early? you barely got enough sleep last night in the first place, too nervous to allow your eyes to shut. collapsing onto your bed, you pull the curtains next to it shut and allow yourself to drift off into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

*:･

you awake around noon with a growling stomach. with a sigh, you rub your tired eyes and sit up, smoothing out your rumpled shirt. after a quick look on your camera to make sure none of your mascara has transferred below your eyes, you make your way to the dining car that’s not too far from your own.

it’s nice, quaint; simply decorated like the rest, with large, square windows divided by thin pieces of wood lining each side. smaller tables line the wall to your right, two seats at each, while larger, four-person tables sit to your left. you opt for a two-seater towards the middle, tunnel vision blocking out the rest of the people present. you stare out at the greenery that blurs outside the window, listening to the low rumble of the train, mindlessly thumbing the laminated menu laying on the table. while you wait for the waitress to get to your table, a light, feminine voice knocks you from your own little world.

“excuse me?” the voice asks. you flinch in response, blinking hard as you look to your left and find two women sitting at the four-seater next to you. they’re both pretty, brown-eyed with full lips curved into twin smiles. they don’t look like sisters, though — more so friends. 

“yes?” you politely say, wondering what they could want with you. the shorter-haired one’s smile grows wider once you speak. she has a rounder face than the other girl, her black bangs ending above her eyes that are currently crinkled at the corners. 

“are you waiting for anyone?” the other girl asks, the one with a long wolfcut and wide, hypnotizing eyes. definitely not sisters, you think, they look nothing alike. 

shaking your head, you softly murmur, “i’m not.”

“would you like to join us, then?” the wide-eyed one asks, a hopeful glint shining in her eyes. 

“i...i wouldn’t want to intrude,” you reply. your mouth curls into something apologetic, as if you’re the one burdening them despite them being the ones to ask you. this interaction feels weird, awkward, and a very large part of you wishes you could melt through the floor and disappear forever. 

“you wouldn’t!” straight black bob chimes in, hands clasped together on top of the table as she leans towards you. cheery, excitable. “we wouldn’t mind at all, really.”

you nod with a tiny, somewhat nervous grin as you take the seat closest to you, right next to wide-eyed wolfcut. you offer them your name, unsure what else to give them. your age? your profession? your deep-seated trauma? okay, definitely not that last one. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” straight black bob says, while the other chimes in with a soft hum of affirmation. “i’m chaewon.”

“and i’m sakura,” wolfcut adds with a dip of her chin.

hands placed snugly in your lap, you pick at your thumb nail. your back is stiff in the chair, and you hope they won’t notice. “it’s nice to meet you guys too. are you traveling together?” 

both of them giggle, glancing at each other for a moment before swiveling their eyes back to you. for a moment, you’re confused. why was that so funny? they look to be decent friends, at least from your limited interactions with them thus far.

“we actually just met a few minutes ago,” wolfcut — no, sakura claims. oh, so they’re not friends, then. “we ran into each other— like, quite literally ran into each other.”

“it was…kinda bad,” chaewon laughs before she takes a sip of water. “my ass is still sore.”

you huff a laugh at that, all air and no sound, and the conversation continues with a light-hearted air to it. as the minutes tick by, you learn that chaewon is a graduate student taking a gap semester, while sakura owns her own makeup line, a small business that is beginning to pick up speed thanks to social media. one lives in brooklyn—

“no way,” you gasp at chaewon. “where at?” 

sakura, meanwhile, resides in upper manhattan. even more information about them bombards your brain as all of you begin to eat, but you doubt you’ll remember most of it by tomorrow, even later today — it’s alright, though. the three of you have exchanged numbers (to create a group chat) and have basically promised to be travel buddies for the coming days. your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, grateful to find kind, welcoming people on this train — you’d think that jennifer would like them. the way they interact with each other is somewhat reminiscent of your and jennifer’s friendship. friends…yeah, you can see the three of you becoming good friends. 

“can we see some of your art?” chaewon asks, bob shifting like a wave around her head as she shakes it. oh, yeah. you had briefly mentioned your profession, though shame barred you from sharing your reasons that led you to this train in the first place. 

you cringe. “oh, well—”

“i’m sure it’s great!” she continues. “c’mon, pleaseee?”

with sparkling doe eyes and hands clasped tightly together, it’s difficult to say no — and you don’t, shaking your head a little as you pull up your instagram account. while you’re proud of the pieces you’ve posted on there, they aren’t your most emotional. those ones are saved in your camera roll, and that is where they will stay, only for your eyes (and a very few select others) to see. they coo and aw as they swipe through, your phone placed on the table between them. heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to pick at the remnants of your lunch sitting on your plate. deep down, their kind comments cause an unusual sense of guilt to invade your heart. why couldn’t you produce shit like that now? what the hell is wrong with you?

with a polite smile, you thank them and move to excuse yourself before your pathetic sense of self-pity can consume you. they seem a bit surprised by your abrupt exit, but they also take it in stride, offering to text you later for dinner. slipping from your seat, you send them a wave before setting off towards the door from which you initially came. 

*:･

you don’t know what spurred you to make a stop at your room and snatch your sketchbook from your backpack before heading to the observation car, but after a whole lot of sitting and not one speck of sketching, you kind of, sort of have started to hate yourself for that decision. 

the open page in your lap is abysmally blank. no marks, no little trees or lush fields or flowers or anything that you see speeding by outside the window. your pencil has been poised against the page for the longest time, dark gray dots scattered across the page where you would press the point of the pencil to start making a mark and subsequently give up. another hour with no progress ticks by, but you still can’t make it move. move, why won’t your hand just move? 

flipping it shut, you lean back in your seat with a deep sigh. you can’t force these things, you know that much, but that won’t stop you from trying — and failing — to produce something. you’d rather not dwell on that for too long, though. those thoughts are what got you here in the first place. instead, you allow your tense muscles to relax, your eyes to lose focus and blur, blobs of green and blue passing by your vision. soft murmurs from other passengers meld together into a wall of droning noise, soft and soothing. 

that is, until the sound of someone settling into a seat a couple away from your own pops your little bubble like a sharp, pointed pin pressing into the skin of a balloon. blinking your vision back into focus, you take a quick glance to your right and—

holy shit, he’s beautiful. a sloping nose and pink, plush lips, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model of some sort with a face like that. his dark, slightly outgrown hair frames his side profile perfectly, sweeping back towards the back of his head where it begins to curl down the back of his neck. there’s this sort of dreamy, ethereal quality to his looks, like the universe took it’s sweet time creating him, lovingly placed tiny little stars in his sable, fox-like eyes and kissed his skin with the sun’s gentle rays, a light pink dusted across his cheeks — or, at least, the one cheek that you can see. bulky headphones sit snugly over his ears as he simply watches the landscapes pass by, one long leg crossed over the other. before you register the movement of your hands, your sketchbook is flipped back open to that very same blank page you’d given up on mere moments ago, fingers gripping your pencil once more. fluid like water is how your hand moves across the page, capturing the unique shape of his eyes, his soft yet defined jawline, the slope of his neck…

for the first time in months, you lose yourself in your work, yet you don’t even register this small breakthrough. peeking back up at the beautiful stranger every once in a while, you slowly carve out his likeness on the page in front of you, begin to add his surroundings and even a background, shading with light, circular strokes as you go, building up the deposit of graphite where it is needed most, defining the shape of his pouty lips and the strong cupid’s bow that connects his top lip to his nose, mapping out the flow and shape of locks of hair with dark, daring strokes, graphite pressing hard into the page. you even add some flyways for good measure. in your frenzied bout of drawing, you have hunched over in your chair, an old habit that is rearing its ugly head now that you don’t have a standing easel to work with. straightening your aching spine, you sit back and observe your sketch, wondering if you have missed any defining details—

and when you move to look up and take in his features again, he is staring right back at you. 

oh.

oh, fuck. 

frozen in your seat, you can’t tear your gaze away from his own, a hint of concern swirling in his irises. his eyebrows raise, eyes slightly wide as he tilts his head. the corners of his pretty lips raise, parting as if about to speak — and he does.

“are you okay?”

his deep voice snaps you out of your stupor, flinching before you quickly flip your notebook shut and sent him a tight smile paired with a nod, eyes darting around to look everywhere but him. your heart just might leap out of your chest at this rate, tear open your sternum and collide with the floor. you almost wish it would. 

he’s frowning now, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “uh, are you sure—”

without another glance at him, you stand, clutch your notebook and pencil tight enough that it presses marks into your skin, and book it straight out of there with swift and featherlight steps. you don’t look back, far too embarrassed to even consider it, not stopping until you reach your room. the door is slammed shut behind you, but the nerves-induced ache in your chest won’t fade. pressing the cool backs of your hands against your fiery cheeks, you resist the urge to slap yourself. what the fuck is wrong with you? you should’ve just answered him and apologized for staring. he probably thinks you’re some creep now, with your weird little notebook and lack of verbal response — and the way you left. god, if a hole opened up and swallowed you whole, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“you are so fucking embarrassing,” you hiss, venemous words aimed straight at yourself, your head buried in your hands as you curl up on the bed. day one, day fucking one, and you’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of someone.

maybe you should stay in here for the rest of your trip.

day two.

“...why is it so big?”

chaewon is referring to cloud gate — or, rather, what is more popularly known as the bean — a terribly ugly, silver, oversized, bean-shaped art installation that sits in chicago’s millennium park. an art installation that you, quite frankly, despise mostly due to the artist behind the work. given that anish kapoor is an elitist prick who has shit on the art world with his wealth and hates when people call his piece the bean, you take great, overwhelming satisfaction in calling it that. 

her question — paired with her furrowed eyebrows — causes you and sakura to snicker to yourselves. you’re grateful that they texted you this morning, had forced you out of your room because you actually were going to go through with your staying-in-your-room-forever plan (for today, at least). this park is your first stop of many, but you really want to get this part over with so that you don’t have to see this gargantuan, chrome bean ever again. despite its ugliness, you can admit that the slightly warped, mirrored reflection of the city that it provides is kind of interesting to look at, and it makes for some cool pictures. 

(still, fuck anish kapoor. you refuse to give that man any credit.)

you end up taking a photo of you flipping it off from afar, sending it to jennifer with a smirk before helping the other two girls with some of their own photos. here, there’s no pressure to create, only to enjoy and experience what surrounds you, no matter how tourist-y it may be. 

sakura slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer to her, arm extended out to take a selfie. your hand raises in a peace sign at the camera, smile bright and wide like the sun above. there’s not an inkling of worry in your expression — until you see him. 

the guy from yesterday, standing maybe ten feet away. he dons an unbuttoned striped shirt layered over a tank top which is tucked into baggy, dark wash jeans. a thin, black belt wraps around his waist, a small camera hanging from his neck, and his hair looks as perfect as yesterday, shiny and smooth under the unobstructed sunlight. thankfully, he hasn’t noticed you, but that doesn’t stop your smile from fading, your heart from hammering within your chest as your brain cruelly replays the events of yesterday afternoon in slow motion. you can’t face him right now. what if he comes up to you? what if he confronts you for your odd behavior in front of this crowd? these are worst case scenarios, sure, but they are potential outcomes nonetheless. as he begins to turn in your direction, you whip around, slipping from under sakura’s arm as you face the two girls. 

“you guys ready to go?” you ask, masking your worry with a tight grin. don’t ask why, don’t ask why, please don’t ask why.

“yeah, sure,” chaewon nods. “i think i’ve had enough of the bean.”

“same,” sakura laughs.

“we could grab lunch, then go to the aquarium and planetarium?” you suggest, one foot beginning to tap against the concrete as you look back and forth between them. are there eyes burning into the back of your head right now? you can’t tell, but the prickling on the back of your neck is not a promising sign. they look at each other, then back to you — a phenomenon that has rapidly become a habit for them — and agree. surging forward, your hands loop around their wrists closest to you, and begin to speed walk away. far away.

“uh, girl? this is the wrong way, we’re going deeper into the park,” sakura notes, heels digging into the concrete to slow you down. she’s right, you know she’s right, but you’re not particularly keen on turning around. 

with a sheepish grin, you say, “maybe we could take a walk through the park first?”

as if on cue, chaewon’s stomach emits an audible growl. 

“nevermind, then.”

turning around, you find the stranger facing your way, and for some reason, he’s already looking at you. his eyebrows raise in recognition the moment you make eye contact. all of a sudden, you wish that you could shrivel up and die. despite this, you rip your gaze from his and push forward, turning to speak to sakura so that you aren’t forced to glance in his direction. mission: avoid the stranger who now haunts your life — success!

goodbye, the bean and the guy who you embarrassed yourself in front of. hello, chicago-style pizza. 

*:･

you’re tired.

you’re tired and slightly more broke and your legs and feet ache to hell after the copious amount of walking you’ve done, but your day still isn’t over. no, despite the setting sun and rising moon, you still have one more activity on your itinerary — clubbing, by request of your newfound friends, though even they claim that they don’t often partake in the activity. similar to them, you’re more inclined to small get-togethers with wine, food from that thai place down the street from your apartment, and a good movie, but hey, this trip is all about experiencing new things. hell, maybe you’ll even enjoy it, who knows? at least, you’re going to try to, but the pain radiating in the soles of your feet and calves has worsened due to your high heels. the dress wrapped around your body is tight and flattering in all the right places, yet the hem rides up every few minutes as you walk. 

“the pessimism isn’t cute. quit it,” you hear jennifer’s voice echo inside your head, yet another phrase she’s uttered to you in the past. fine — on the bright side, you haven’t seen that good-looking stranger since the park. bam, positivity, go you.

sakura’s arm loops around yours as you reach the club that you collectively decided on earlier. her excited squeals at the prospect of alcohol (or, rather, more alcohol, since she pregramed a bit prior to leaving the station) and dancing are enough to bring on a weak headache that spreads across your temples. ibuprofen. you desperately need ibuprofen, but vodka will do just fine too — it’s the first thing you order at the bar, a straight shot with no chaser because at this point, you don’t care. let go, enjoy life, you internalize as you toss the sharp liquor down your throat, fatigue melting away as the alcohol enters your veins. 

cheers, jennifer. you still need to text her back.

one more downed shot later, and chaewon is dragging you to the dance floor. the bass pounds in your ears and vibrates the floor as the three of you sway to the upbeat songs. droplets of sweat begin to bead along your hairline, bodies packed so close together that it’s virtually impossible not to be jostled by a stray elbow or shoulder as you dance. if you were completely sober, it would be uncomfortable, but your hazy senses allow for you to overlook the sardine can that is called a club. it’s easy to lose yourself in the warm, heady air, in the way your hips bump between chaewon’s and sakura’s. inhibitions melt away — you’re free; no expectations weighing you down, nowhere to be, no one to be. only music, flashing lights, and the new, fruity drink in your hand, courtesy of sakura. 

“gonna take a breather!” you yell into chaewon’s ear, the alcohol finally catching up to you. she nods, yells words you can’t make out into sakura’s ear, and both of them begin to follow you out of the crowd. you sip at your drink as you push your way through, ducking under swinging arms and avoiding splashing drinks. the crowd thins as you grow closer to the edge of the dance floor until only scattered groups of friends remain.

“you didn’t have to come with me, y’know,” you say as soon as you reach a slightly quieter part of the club, taking a seat in an empty booth. “i can handle myself.”

“it’s better to stick together. less dangerous,” sakura refutes. some of the glitter that sits above her eyes had drafted down to her cheeks, glinting as a beam of bright light travels over the lower half of her face. “you never know what could happen in a club.”

chewing at the neon pink straw in your drink, you nod, “that’s true.” 

as chaewon and sakura fall into conversation, their words not quite reaching your ears, you silently scan the club. the darkness is cut by wild lasers and spotlights that whirl around and catch on the faces of countless strangers, their pearly, grinning teeth glinting and disappearing back into obscurity in a flash. you continue to nibble at your straw, vision hazy around the edges and an airy sensation in your limbs, as if you could float up to the ceiling. you look up at the multicolored lights, flashes of red and green and blue bombarding your vision, then back down towards the crowd.

and yet again, you find him in your sights. 

suddenly, your vision has a crystal clear clarity to it. button-down shirt wide open to reveal his toned torso, he smoothly moves to the beat with an intoxicated smirk painted on his lips, a small glass of amber liquor in his left hand. dark, outgrown hair, plush lips, those dark, dreamy eyes — that’s him. shit, that’s definitely him. 

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you murmur, head collapsing into your arms on top of the cool wooden table. sakura jumps in her seat next to you, before scrambling to place a hand on your shoulder.

“are you okay?” she squeals near your ear, tacking on a worried call of your name when you don’t respond right away. honestly? you’re kind of not okay. you’re tired of encountering him at every turn and being reminded of your humiliating escape from him yesterday. you’re tired of him spotting you and sending you odd looks as if you’re the weirdest person he’s ever crossed paths with. you’re tired, you’re tired, you’re just so tired. 

you decided to go on this trip to get away from the mundanity of your day-to-day routine, to get over your spell of artist’s block and see new things, but maybe you bit off more than you can chew if you were going to allow one random person to ruin that goal for you. a random stranger shouldn’t have this much power over you. 

raising your head, you send them a half-hearted nod. “i’m fine. sorry.”

chaewon frowns, “are you about to throw up? ‘cause you look like you are.”

“you look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” sakura chimes in.

sighing, you shake your head. “i think— i think i need to use the bathroom.”

as you move to get up, they do as well — though you decide not to protest this time. there’s no point, really. your legs wobble a bit as you walk, face dropping once you notice that he is near the men’s restroom now, waiting outside right across from where you aim to go. head down, you scurry past him, ignoring how his eyes widen and his knuckles pale as he grips his drink tighter. chaewon and sakura are hot on your heels as you slip into the quiet bathroom. with the music from outside now muffled, you realize your ears are ringing. reaching a sink, you turn on the faucet and splash some water onto your face. hunched over the sink, your fingers grip the edge of the counter. deep breaths, now. deep breaths. this is likely the quickest you have ever sobered up, and the sensation is rendering you dizzy.

behind you, your friends exchange concerned looks through the mirror. sakura jumps into action first, coming up behind you and placing her hands onto your shoulders. with a gentle squeeze, she murmurs, “let’s get you back to the station.”

day three.

today, the observation car is devoid of life — and so is your body after yesterday. can you overdose by taking too much ibuprofen? you’re pretty sure that you can. 

last night is but a blur in your memory with few spots of clarity, but you do vividly remember panicking in the dimly lit bathroom as the girls fretted over whether you were going to vomit all over the floor or not. you hadn’t slept much once you returned to your room after exchanging drunken hugs with your friends, assuring them that you were, indeed, not going to throw up. after a few hours of restless sleep, you’d completely given up on proper rest — you have never slept all that well with alcohol in your system, so you’re not sure why you thought this time would be any different. 

you take a seat far away from the one you took last time. clad in your pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, you’re grateful that no one else is here to see you at your worst: slightly hungover with dark circles the size of dinner plates. your legs fold up onto the chair so that your knees sit near your chest, your arms looping around your shins, fingers laced together. a deep sigh. a long blink. though the rest of the sky remains an inky black, the horizon morphs into a deep purple, the color of eggplant, almost. perhaps a smidge lighter. 

a door opens, its hinges faintly squeaking, before subsequently clicking shut. figuring it must be someone older, you do not bother with checking who entered; most people your age aren’t up this early, especially not willingly. instead, you keep your eyes trained on the ever-changing sky, chin resting upon your knees.

footsteps near you, and you assume that they will pass, but then they don’t. rather, they stand right in front of you.

“may i sit here?”

you have heard this voice before, just two days ago. unsurprisingly, he stands a mere few feet away, clad in a black tank top and gray sweatpants, a long finger pointed towards a seat. similar to you, small dark circles sit beneath his eyes, but he somehow makes them work. once you nod, one corner of his lips twitches upward before he sits down, a singular seat separating your bodies. his gaze burns the side of your face; your arms wrap around your legs tighter, your unwavering stare pointed out the window. silence envelopes the train car, tense and suffocating. your lungs tighten, prickly thorns sprouting within the thin membranes. your bottom lip may begin to bleed if you keep chewing at it so carelessly.

he breaks it first, shatters it like glass colliding with the floor, with five words:

“i’m really hungover right now.”

your brows furrow. why is he trying to strike up a conversation with you? why do you want to answer him? 

he continues before you can formulate a response, “i saw you at that club last night — you looked a little sick. are you okay?”

“peachy,” you curtly mumble, lips pursing. of course he remembers you; you did pass by him, after all, basically sprinted into the bathroom with the grace of a bull in a china shop. he hasn’t mentioned the park, but you know damn well he remembers that too.

you can sense the frown from his tone, confusion lacing the edges like delicate lace. his question is careful, slowly intonated as if he’s scared of pissing you off. “uh, did i do something wrong?”

you shake your head, not a single glance spared in his direction thus far. he hasn’t. your attitude is a direct result of your own actions, your own rampant anxieties. a pang of guilt punches you in the gut — he does not deserve your bitchiness when he, quite frankly, has done nothing but exist in relative proximity to you. 

“you haven’t,” you reply, voice meek. your eyes trace over the short fibers of the plain carpet below your seat. “i’m just— i’m sorry.”

the low rumble of the train fills the air again, no further words spoken between the two of you. there’s no clear way to explain yourself further, but your apology is sincere; with a brief peek, you find him staring out the window.

“can i ask why you keep running away whenever you see me?” the query lacks an accusatory edge. rather, curiosity and interest cushion his voice. maybe…maybe he doesn’t find you that strange, after all.

and finally, after two days of avoiding his gaze, you swivel your head to face him. you find a tilted head, a single humorous, raised eyebrow. despite yourself, you begin to smile. “honestly?”

“i’d prefer honesty, yes,” he grins.

“i—” you hesitate for a moment, then continue, “i was embarrassed.” a grimace paints your face, dragging your brows down and twisting your lips. “after, y’know…”

“running away the first time?” he supplies.

your mouth flattens into a thin line, a hand moving up to scratch your cheek. “yeah, that.”

laughter reaches your ears, partially nasally. rolling your eyes, your mouth splits into a grin. 

“i get it. i feel like i definitely startled you, so no hard feelings.” he pauses, starry eyes widening in what you believe is realization, “i never got your name.”

easily, you supply it, cheeks flushing with heat when he offhandedly comments that it’s pretty. if he notices your sudden flustered state, he doesn’t comment on it, and despite the warmth now slithering down your neck, you feel yourself relax back into your seat, legs leaving their curled up position to cross at the ankle in front of you. then, he offers his own. yeonjun — at long last, you have put a name to his handsome face. 

out of nowhere, he asks, “have you had breakfast?” 

shaking your head, you gesture to your pajama bottoms. “not yet, i was going to grab some after i changed.”

“i don’t know, i think the plaid pants are pretty fashionable,” he chuckles. you join him. “c’mon, i saw an old guy wearing boxers and a shirt in there yesterday. i’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.”

you giggle, “that’s kinda gross, but alright. let’s go.”

peering out the window again, you find that the sun has just peeked above the horizon, a wash of orange fading into blue, melting together like watercolor. smiling to yourself, you stand and begin to follow yeonjun towards the dining car.

*:･

you and yeonjun had gone your separate ways hours ago, but not without exchanging contact information. since then, he hasn’t stopped texting you, his talent at keeping any conversation going shining in direct contrast to your, well, lack of said talent. however, you do find yourself replying to him with ease — he makes it so easy to do so, mostly due to the fairly unorthodox topics he likes to bring up. currently, you’re talking about the animals that scare you the most. why? because that’s the nature of yeonjun’s conversation skills, you suppose.

another voice message pops up in your chat, about ten seconds long — one of his more obvious quirks. most of his messages are sent in this form, not that you mind. his voice is as pretty as the rest of him. heart-fluttering. okay, stop. you just met this guy. 

(jennifer always does say that you fall too easily. maybe she’s right.)

pressing play, his voice enters your left ear via your single earbud. “no because hear me out: dolphins have fooled you into thinking they’re nice. manipulated you. they literally torture their prey— and they use puffer fishes to get high! i can’t make this shit up. my fear is justified, i swear.”

under your breath, you chuckle, an elbow leaned against the dining table. after a long nap, you had texted the girls to see if they’d like to get dinner with you. of course, they said yes, but you decided to get here a bit early to grab an open table. the car is already packed as it is.

“what’re you laughing at?” unexpectedly, sakura’s head appears over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your phone. out of habit, you lock it, your reflections staring back at you through the black screen. as she sits next to you, chaewon, takes the seat across from you, elbows placed on the table and her hands supporting her chin. she sends you a knowing smile.

“is that your boyfriend?” she prods. the question causes your mouth to fall open for a moment before you snap it shut. 

“no!” you exclaim. “it’s just a friend.”

“sounds like a boyfriend,” sakura surmises, exchanging a conspiratory nod with the other girl. you release a groan, hands shielding your fiery hot face before you drag them up over your hair. 

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you shoot back. “we just met today.” two days ago, actually. if you can count that.

their mouths open in tandem, shock coloring their features. is this a big deal, or something? you aren’t even dating the guy. 

“you met a guy and didn’t tell us?” sakura grasps your arm with both hands, shaking the limb with a strength that shouldn’t be possible to come from her thin body. “you should’ve told us! we can be your wingwomen!”

“wingwomen?” you echo dumbly as you stare at her. wingwomen, as in, like, jennifer-style wingwomen? as in trying too hard to set you up with someone and ultimately embarrassing you in the end wingwomen? your love for jennifer knows no bounds, but she’s ruined the term for you long ago with her terrible luck. a shudder runs down your spine, and you grin nervously. “i don’t think that’s necessary.”

“of course it is! i’ve always wanted to do that for one of my friends, but they’re all taken already,” chaewon pouts, irresistible puppy dog eyes appearing. “c’mon, please?

“i doubt he’d want to date me, though? we’ve literally only talked once, so really, it’s okay.”

“once is enough,” sakura declares, suddenly tilting her body closer to yours. “tell us, is he cute? what’s his name?”

they’re obviously not going to let this go, and you have no power to really stop them. 

sighing, you officially give up, “yeonjun, and yes, i do.” unfortunately. 

chaewon claps her hands together, an audible smack! echoing from her palms. her smile is blinding, a supernova of pearly white teeth and pink, upturned lips. “perfect! we can work with that.” 

“i already have an idea: ask him to hang out tomorrow,” sakura says, and you send her an incredulous look, glancing at chaewon for a moment to find that she’s excitedly nodding along to the idea like an excitable puppy. her round eyes sure make her resemble one.

you shake your head. “i can’t do that, it’s too forward.”

rolling her eyes, sakura tosses her hands up in the air. “too forward my ass! how do you expect to bag him?”

“i don’t!”

chaewon chimes in, an open hand reaching towards you, “alright, give us your phone. we’ll text him for you.”

“absolutely not!”

ding!

it’s comical, how all three of you pivot your wide-eyed gazes to the phone clenched in your fingers. the flash of yeonjun’s name across the screen is enough to send your table into chaos. 

“open it!”

“what did he say—”

“calm down, oh my god!” you shriek, sending an apologetic look to the couple next to you when they look over. fingers fly over your keyboard until you’ve reached his contact. words, this time, no voice message. butterflies burst into your chest.

yeonjun: do you have anything planned for tmrw? 

after scanning over the message herself, sakura pokes at your shoulder. “tell him you don’t.” 

with a deep, heavy sigh, you do as she says.

[6:37 p.m.]: not yet, why?

“that’s too dry,” chaewon comments.

“shut up, i’m trying,” you hiss. it takes him a few minutes to respond, minutes in which you internally panic. was your text really too dry? in the meantime, you place your dinner order with a kind waiter that stops by, a hearty dish that you can drown your sorrows in the not-so-off chance that this goes terribly, terribly wrong. another ping sounds from your phone’s speakers, and time stops once you read what he sent. clocks stop ticking, you stop breathing, everything around you freezes.

yeonjun: do you wanna grab coffee in the morning then? :)

sakura sends you a sharp look. “i doubt he’d want to date me — are you seeing this right now? or do you need me to spell it out for you? this is a date, babe.”

“it’s not,” you counter weakly. you only (officially) met him today, so, “it’s really not.”

day four.

contrary to what sakura claimed, this is very much not a date — but you’re happy about it. 

he keeps a respectful distance between your bodies as you walk, you pay for your own coffee, and you pull your own chair out when you go to sit down. it’s simple, it’s friendly, it’s a bit awkward, but there’s some things you have to sacrifice when making new friends. the croissant you’ve decided on is on the drier side, a little too flaky. you nibble on it anyway in a poor attempt to ignore the silence that has fallen between you once again. this is why you try to meet people through other friends; at least in those situations, you have a buffer, someone who knows you and the other person well enough that they can find connections between you without having to dig. you hate digging — you’re the worst at it, hence the stifling quiet that permeates the air now.

the café is quaint, if a bit moody thanks to the lighting. outside the window, the denver street teems with people, and you decide to survey the passing strangers rather than look at the man sitting across from you. wisps of fluffy white clouds float high above, sometimes passing over the sun. you wish you had your supplies with you — this would make for a wonderful painting. 

click!

turning your head, you find yeonjun holding a camera, the lens pointed at…you? you hadn’t noticed it prior, so you are unsure where he got it from. it looks like the same one he had at the park. a bashful smile appears as soon as he places it on the table. “sorry, the lighting was perfect. can’t ever pass up a nice shot.” you study the camera for a moment, and he takes your lack of response as a sign to continue, “once i edit it, i can definitely send you a copy. do you wanna see it?”

a photographer. yeonjun is a photographer. you’re not sure why it’s taken you this long to realize. maybe because you’ve been avoiding him up until now? you think. shaking the thought away, you smile. “i’d love to see it.”

he presses a few buttons, a focused twist to his plush lips, before he’s sliding it over to your side of the table. he’s right: it was a nice shot, and while you don’t often enjoy how you look in photographs, he’s found an angle that highlights your best features as you gaze outside, a slight part to your lips and your eyes wide open, shining. the sheer amount of contrast between the dark café and your warm-lit face scratches an itch in your brain. you can see it now — the golden pigment wetting your brush before being placed on the canvas, being blended into an umber, almost black, but not quite. a splash of umber here, a hint of red there…

“is this your job?” you decide to ask. 

the sheepish expression returns in full force, but there’s a hint of pride in his eyes. he’s proud of his work. “yeah. i’m not, like, famous or anything, but i enjoy it. my mom said that when i was a baby, they put a stethoscope, a gavel, a camera, a microphone, and a test tube in front of me, and i chose the camera, so it was basically meant to be,” he chuckles, but, realizing that you’re staring at him, he pauses for moment. crimson paints the tips of his ears; it’s a color that you’re pretty sure sits in your travel set. “sorry, was that too much?”

“not at all,” you reply softly. “that’s a lovely story, yeonjun.” 

“thanks.” shyly, he bites down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth before releasing it. a beat of quiet passes, then he’s asking, “how about you? what do you do for work?”

for some reason, the question looms over your head like a storm cloud. it’s unavoidable and dark and heavy. a bitter taste fills your mouth, different from the aftertaste of your coffee, but you try not to let your sudden drop in mood show. 

“i’m an artist, though i don’t think many people would consider me one nowadays,” you snicker, but the self-deprecating edge to your words is not lost on yeonjun. 

wrinkles form in the space between his brows. “what do you mean?” 

“i…” you trail off. you should tell him. you should rip the bandaid off and quit avoiding facing it for what it is. “i haven’t finished a piece in months. i feel stuck, almost? like nothing is resonating with me, if that makes sense. it’s the whole reason i went on this trip. it’s humiliating, not being able to draw a single thing without hating it— sorry, that’s definitely too much.” 

“no, no, you’re fine,” and he’s sincere in his reassurances. he doesn’t look at you like you’re some sort of failure for how you feel. he doesn’t spew out a hollow apology to absolve him of the weight you’ve transferred to his shoulders, nor does he seem to mind that he’s helping you burden it. his hand reaches over the table, hesitant for a moment, before his fingers curl over yours, his warm skin against yours. you stare at his hand, but you don’t move away from his touch, allowing him to give your hand a delicate squeeze. looking back up, you sit frozen under his gaze. it warms your insides, melts the icy shards solidifying in your lungs that make it hard to breathe. “none of that makes you less of an artist. it’s something every artist goes through — hell, i’ve gone through it, and it’s okay to feel that way. it’s real and it sucks to feel like you can’t accomplish anything, but there’s nothing wrong with it. eventually, it will pass on its own, but until then, it’s not a sin to lean on others for support.”

tears almost, almost prick your eyes. however, you push them down; there’s no way you’re going to cry in public, in front of him. absolutely not. he squeezes your hand one more time, his thumb brushing over yours, before pulling away. “and if no one else will listen, i will.”

“thank you,” you croak out, blinking rapidly, taking a long sip of coffee in order to buy yourself a few precious seconds to cloak your emotions. a calm veil falls over your face soon enough, and while you hate to be the one to change the subject, you feel like you should. “do you want to go on a walk? it’s too nice out to stay in here all day.”

he doesn’t question the sudden change, humming in confirmation as he scoots his chair back. “it really is nice out. do you have any other plans?”

“not really,” you say, pushing the door open. the warm breeze caresses your face. “i’m trying to be spontaneous—”

“y/n!”

sakura and chaewon appear to your left, each carrying a couple bags that look to be stuffed with clothes. you vaguely remember them mentioning going thrifting, but you didn’t know that they’d be in the same part of the city as you. chaewon comes in for a hug, whispering into your ear, “he’s cute.”

glancing up at yeonjun, sakura feigns ignorance, “who’s this?” 

thus, your friends meet the one man you’d rather keep them away from, if only to prevent their wingwomen shenanigans. you have zero clue what they have planned, but you’re sure none of it can be good. 

“we were just on our way to the botanical gardens,” chaewon sings. “if you’d like to join usss.”

wordlessly, you and yeonjun communicate, only raised eyebrows and tilted chins. somehow, you understand exactly what he’s trying to convey. do you want to? do you? i don’t mind if you don’t. alright, let’s do it.

when you do arrive at the gardens, yeonjun’s fingers find your wrist, holding you back for a moment. his free hand gestures to the camera hanging around his neck. “mind being my model for the day?”

you blink. you, his model? “oh, um. i think chae and kkura are a bit more qualified—”

“no way,” he laughs. “i’m the professional here, and i want you. no one else will do.”

i want you — god, those three, simple words send a visceral shiver down your spine. a want, a need, an overwhelming desire for…you’re not even sure, but something all-consuming blooms behind your sternum like a moonflower in the night. with a coy dip of your head, you smile to yourself, allowing the feeling to surge through your veins, consume every fiber of your being.

“alright, mr. professional. lead the way.”

*:･

it’s early in the evening when you return to the station in a giddy haze, arm looped around yeonjun’s. the photo session had been a success; by the end, you were drunk on the compliments he aimed your way, on the way he treated you like glass as he directed you into a specific pose, the fleeting sensation of his fingertips pressing into your skin burned into your memory. 

closing the door to your room, you press your back into it, squeal into your palms like you did when you were sixteen and harboring a silly little crush. because that’s all it is right now, really: a foolish crush on a man that you probably won’t see again after this trip. you can fantasize all you want, but in the end, that’s what it is. those invading negative thoughts get drowned out by the movie playing behind your eyelids — a replay of the day. you swear you can feel every touch of his skin against yours, every ray of sunshine that kissed your skin and gifted you its warmth. scurrying over to your bag, you locate your supplies. 

and you begin to paint. 

a flurry of lilacs, a blurry figure among them all, defined only by a flowing white button up and brown, wide leg trousers, black streaks of hair and nothing more. yellow daffodils and vibrant emerald sweetgrass take shape, a cerulean sky, fluffy clouds. it’s messy and you kind of hate it, but it’s something. something is on the canvas, it’s dynamic, it has character.

“okay,” you mumble, staring at the brushstrokes, going over them again and again. “okay.”

day five.

“can i draw you?” 

a spur of the moment question, borne from the golden sunset gracing his cheeks, highlighting strands of his hair. the day has passed quietly today, mostly spent in your room sketching to your heart’s content. though mostly inconsequential doodles paired with terribly cheesy words of prose that even your most romantic friends would scrunch their noses at, these exercises in creating without a specific goal in mind seem to be helping. a part of that gray fog over your world has been wafted away by an invisible hand, and everything is a bit more vibrant, closer to its true hue; while nothing about your creations are particularly special or groundbreaking, going on this trip is now beginning to prove its worth. 

yeonjun’s head tilts, and you shrug. “what? i need practice.”

“okay, as long as you promise to show me afterward,” he challenges, and you immediately shake your head. 

“i’m only going to show it to you if it turns out well,” you decide. you think back to the painting sitting in your room, still a bit wet, the paint overworked to hell. that one is staying a secret. it’s not good enough to be known by anyone else — and certainly not by him.

“then no deal.” when you give him a pleading look, he raises his hands. “i show you my pictures, you show me what’s going on in that sketchbook, it’s only fair.”

“fine,” you hiss, fishing your sketchbook from your bag. “get comfortable, and don’t even think about moving.”

“harsh.”

with a suppressed grin, you take in the planes of his face. he’s shifted to face you, intent eyes trained on you, which makes your job harder. gulping, you raise an arm, mapping out his proportions with a thumb. the process of pressing intentional marks into the page is a slow one, exacerbated by his unwavering stare. you have to look out at the mountains every once in a while to allow oxygen back into your lungs, and even then, the action proves difficult. graphite scratching paper is backed by the low murmur of other passengers in the observation car as you work, capturing the fading light that casts shadows across his face. however, your creative juices quickly run out, likely sapped by your painting escapade that extended far into the night. the shape of his eyes isn’t quite right, and no matter how much you erase and try again, there’s always a slight detail off about it. too narrow, too round, too—

the tip of the pencil snaps, the point rolling across the page and falling onto the floor. you curse under your breath. 

“is it done?” yeonjun asks, leaning forward. his hands gently take your sketchbook from your lap before you can protest, and you watch as his expression shifts from neutral to slack-jawed. 

“that’s…you’re…wow,” he starts, then never finishes. he still hasn’t torn his wide eyes away from the page, flitting around as he drinks in every miniscule detail, while you pinpoint every single thing wrong with the drawing.

“it’s bad,” you deadpan. “give it back, i need to fix it.”

he frowns. you seem to make him do that a lot. “there’s nothing to fix.”

“there’s everything to fix.”

“it’s literally a carbon copy of me,” he counters. “you’re crazy.”

“says the one who can’t see the shape of his eyes right now. the lash line isn’t straight enough at the top, the nose isn’t quite right, the hair lacks form. it’s terrible.”

for the first time since you met him, yeonjun is annoyed. eyes narrowed and dark, he locks his gaze into yours, throws away the key. you can’t move while he tosses the worn sketchbook back into your lap, a hand running through his hair, locks raising with his fingers and flopping back down into his face.

“i know what it’s like to be your own worst critic,” he says, voice soft like a lullaby, standing in direct contrast to his firm expression. “but it’s one thing to be critical of your art, and another to resent it. you’re a wonderful artist, y/n. talented isn’t enough to describe you, but negativity is going to get you nowhere. it holds you back.”

he’s right — you loathe that he is, and you more so hate how he sounds just like jennifer. your nails skirts the fraying edge of the leather cover in your laps, picking at it like you would with skin, peeling cracked flakes off to reveal a soft underbelly of lighter-colored suede. wine red versus warm tan. you feel like you’re being admonished, a child who’s misbehaved. you feel small, but at the same time, you need to hear it. you’ve been coddled enough. 

“i used to hate my stuff too, y’know. never thought it was ever that special, but that’s what made me underestimate myself. that’s what made me settle for less, that’s what made me lock my camera away in my closet for the longest time until i felt i was ‘ready’ to use it — but who was i to say i was ready? how do you know when you are? honestly, you don’t. you won’t ever know. all you can do is create and create and hope that you eventually make something that you’re proud of. until then, you keep trying, you figure out what’s working, what isn’t, and go from there. in the end, everything you create is a reflection of you, and that’s the beautiful thing about art. it bares your soul, it strips you down to the rawest parts of yourself that you may despise right now — but it’s still you. and don’t you think you deserve to give yourself some grace?”

his words strike a place deep within you, an ache beginning in the center of your chest and snaking out like the roots of a tree into your stomach and throat. you do deserve some grace, don’t you? you don’t spew venomous words towards your friends or strangers every day, yet you do it to yourself without a second thought. why? you bring yourself and your skills down any chance that you get. why? your art is merely an extension of yourself — is this how you forever want to feel whenever you are drawing? whenever you’re sculpting a piece? no, not at all. your head raises. 

“have you ever thought about becoming a public speaker?”

he lets out an incredulous scoff, but there’s still an inkling of teasing in his tone, “is that all you got from my mini speech? i thought it was amazing. life-changing, even.”

“no,” you deny with a tight-chested laugh. “but there’s not much more to add. you’ve said it all for me.”

the passing mountains are purple now, the greenery a muted magenta. in this moment, you decide the yeonjun is an enigma; untouchable, unreachable — standing too close to his bright, technicolor world would burn your muted one to the ground. if you are icarus, then he is the sun sending you plummeting down into oblivion.

but you want to touch him, you want to burn.

you want to feel alive again.

“let me draw you again,” and maybe it won’t be your best. maybe the slope of his chin will be crooked, maybe the intrinsic sparkle in his eyes won’t be quite right, but there’s a conviction present in your tone that causes him to smile.

day six.

“are you really trying to have a dick measuring contest with the seals right now?”

san francisco’s iconic pier 39 is abustle with tourists, but you and yeonjun are currently at the very back of the pier, where seals soak in the sun on little wooden docks constructed just for them. at the moment, yeonjun is trying to out-seal the seals with loud barks and hoots, mimicking their distinctive sounds. yeonjun is still making noises, people are starting to stare, and you are beginning to want to climb over the wooden fence and jump straight into the ocean. 

“yeonjun, please stop,” you plead, hands gripping the sleeve of his t-shirt, yet he doesn’t stop, honking back at the seals once they respond. you tug a bit harder. “c’mon, people are staring. the seals don’t care how loud you are, you’re not proving anything.”

“i’m proving a lot of things right now, actually,” he quips before he’s going back to making noises that are unbecoming of a human being. this feels like a cruel form of exposure therapy.

you try pulling at his sleeve again. “c’mon, yeonjun.” and again. “yeonjun!”

“okay, okay, i’ll stop,” he cackles, turning to face you. he’s close — too close to be considered platonic. his hands could come up and hold your waist right now, pull you closer into his chest. it causes you to take a step back, and it’s as if he can sense the heat radiating from your cheeks, leaning down towards you with a smirk. “you embarrassed?”

“of course i’m embarrassed,” you hiss. “how are you not?”

shaking his head, his grin grows impossibly wider. “if i buy you lunch, will you forgive me?” 

pretending to think, you look off to the side, then back to him. of course you will. “maybe.”

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs as he falls into step next to you. the air is much cooler here than at your other stops, a gray blanket of fog rolling in on the horizon that cuts into the clear blue sky. he sends you a hopeful look as he asks, “y’feeling clam chowder?”

with a tiny shrug, you confess that you’ve never had it before. with a dramatic hand placed against his chest, he gasps, “you live in the northeast, and you’ve never tried it? that has to be some sort of crime.”

chowder hut is his restaurant of choice, a circular, well, hut that sits by its lonesome across from the infamous pier. it’s a place he used to go when he lived in san jose and took day trips here with his cousins, he claims. the restaurant holds a lot of fond memories for him, this whole city does. you wonder what those memories entail.

“i got you a small one in case you don’t like it,” yeonjun says as soon as he returns with your food. a tray is placed in front of you: a round sourdough loaf carved into to create a bowl, filled with cream-colored, steaming-hot chowder thick with chunks of potatoes, pieces of bacon, and, of course, clams. digging a spoon in, you take your first bite — clean, briny, slightly sweet, bursting across your taste buds like tiny little firecrackers. your eyes widen at the taste, buzzing in delight against the spoon poised to your lips. he grins. “it’s good, right?” 

you hum in agreement, swallowing another spoonful. you’re crazy for never having tried this before. twenty-four years of living, and you had no idea what you were missing out on. you’ve missed out on a long of things, it seems, but you’re beginning to catch up on them with the help of yeonjun — as well as sakura and chaewon, of course. you could never forget about them.

“you’re forever going to be connected to clam chowder in my mind now, i hope you know that,” you say, tearing into the walls of the bread bowl. the remnants of the salty chowder have soaked into the bowl, mixing perfectly with the tanginess of the bread. yeah, you wouldn’t forget this in a million years; it’s too delicious to forget. 

“you do that too?” he asks. you send him a questioning glance. “like, connect people to food.”

“yeah, i guess i do,” you ponder. “my mom reminds me of this one dish she always made me as a kid. my best friend reminds me of wine, since that’s what we drank when we first met. it’s also her favorite. and now you…remind me of clam chowder.”

he chuckles, “great, i’ll always be the clam chowder guy to you.”

you giggle back. “it���s not a bad title to hold. you could be, i don’t know, the terrible clam chowder guy.”

“fair enough. i’ll take it,” he declares before he shoves the last piece of his bread bowl into his mouth. his cheeks puff out, similar to a chipmunk, and you resist the urge to chuckle at the image in your head. “now that i think about it, i don’t do it with just people — a lot of my fondest memories are connected to food, too. something human about it, y’know? food is its own form of love. or, at least, i think it is.”

“no, i completely agree. there’s something special about sharing food with others — it’s kinda intimate, i guess? especially if you’re cooking for someone, those are some of the most vivid memories for me.” 

nodding along with you, he’s leaning forward, elbows resting against the table. the corners of his lips quirk up. “you get it. the intimacy of it, i mean. my mom has always said that food is the best way to a person’s heart — food brings people together. it’s amazing.”

“yeah,” you beam. “it really is.”

for a moment, conversation ceases, the two of you smiling at each other, leaning forward over the table. your mouth opens to speak, but a loud caw draws your attention away from his hypnotizing eyes. you watch a seagull swoop in to harass a man that sits two tables over, his glasses skewed on his face as he tries to keep the bird from stealing his food. arms wave everywhere while the seagull screeches at him, flapping its wings on top of the man’s head. after a brief second of shock, the sight has you nearly doubling over with laughter, unflattering shrieks sounding from your throat. it takes a minute for your giggles to subside. while you wipe a tear from your lash line, you look back at him — and freeze.

he’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, chin supported by his palm. his mouth curves into something serene and fond, hooded eyes scanning your face as you stare back. you’re no longer smiling, mouth parted as you wait for him to say something, anything. he doesn’t, so you move to break the intense air brewing between you.

“is…is something wrong?” with a flinch, his eyes blink rapidly for a second, coming back into focus. he sits up straighter, leaning into the back of his chair.

“i just— nevermind. sorry, spaced out there for a second,” his chin dips towards his chest before rising again, the tips of his ears flushing cherry. he looks nervous, almost. “um, if you’re up for it later, we could grab dinner at this korean restaurant i used to go to? it reminds me a lot of my parents. i think you’d like it.” 

while you’d rather ask where his head is at right now, what he was going to say before he stopped himself so abruptly, you say, “i’d love that.”

*:･

he was right, you do like it. 

the restaurant is cozy, a little hole-in-the-wall in the heart of the city where less tourists roam. the food is delicious, flavorful meats and fluffy rice and various veggie side dishes that you can’t stop eating. as he snaps some photos of the place, he tells you the decor reminds him of restaurants in seoul, of the mom-and-pop shops he’d frequent there. that at some point or other, some of the owners would start recognizing him when he came in and gave him extra food free of charge. 

“so you lived there for a while? in korea?” you ask as you watch him some meat for the two of you to share. the action is second nature to him, each piece staying on the grill for the same amount of time, flipped only once. you bring a piece to your mouth — it’s perfectly cooked.

“i was born there, in a town near seoul,” he says through a mouthful of rice. “moved around a bit, but i lived in seoul for most of it ‘til i was eighteen. then i moved to new york for college, but dropped out after two semesters to pursue photography. it’s been six years since i moved to the states.”

“you said you lived in san jose for a while earlier.” you tilt your head at him. “when was that?”

“ah,” he starts. “i studied abroad when i was in elementary school and stayed with some family there— do you want some more meat? i can order more.”

your meat supply has dwindled down to two pieces. there’s still room in your stomach, so you nod. “sure.”

he calls over the sole server on shift, speaking to him rapidly in his native tongue. the server glances over at you for a brief second before focusing back on yeonjun. out of their entire conversation, you recognize one word: friend. it’s a term that jennifer taught you a while ago, one that has stuck with you because she now likes to jokingly call you that every now and then. an inside joke between the two of you.

when the server leaves, yeonjun is left a flustered mess. your eyebrows raise. “why’s your face so red? what’d he say?”

“nothing! it’s just from the kimchi! it’s really spicy here,” he quickly claims before he’s gulping down half a glass of water. you, quite frankly, don’t buy it for a second, but choose not to pry. 

day seven.

of course, at least one thing has to go wrong on a trip like this. mechanical problems with the train has rendered everyone stuck in the golden city until tomorrow morning, at which another train will take over the rest of the trip. the station is across the bay, so amtrak has given every passenger a voucher to pay for a night’s stay at various hotels across the city — customer’s choice, no less. to be safe, you choose the one closest to the bar chaewon and sakura want to check out tonight. once you told yeonjun where you decided to stay, he used his voucher there as well. he wants to stay near you, he says, to make it easy to find each other.

today, the girls join you and yeonjun at pier 39. they partake in bread bowls, they watch yeonjun embarrass himself at the seal docks, they send you knowing looks when he pays for your food. when yeonjun finds a street performer with a dance mat and wastes no time in starting a battle against the guy, they tell you that he’s trying to impress you.

“he’s not,” you whisper to them. “that’s just how he is. i promise.”

night begins to fall, and they suggest going to a bar for dinner, more for the drinks and not the food. you accept, and in turn, so does yeonjun — though you immediately regret not thinking the decision through more. the bar is dangerous. not in an external hazard sense, but in more of a you’re scared of getting drunk and vomiting your blossoming feelings onto his shoes type of sense. you keep your drinking to a minimum, still on your first drink an hour in. next to you, however, yeonjun is starting to collapse in on himself, hunched over the counter of the bar as his third drink kicks in. a giggle bubbles up from your throat. you never pegged him to be a lightweight. 

“let’s get you some water,” you gently suggest, a comforting hand on his shoulder. waving the bartender over, you ask for a glass, helping him sit up and take a sip. his chin falls onto your shoulder this time, eyes hazy as he looks up at you with a dopey smile. 

“you’re really pretty, did y‘know that?” he slurs, leaning further into you as an arm wraps around your waist. his barstool screeches across the floor, shifting closer to yours. you freeze as shock fills your veins, nerve endings beneath his touch on fire. he pokes your warm cheek. “s’pretty.”

you blink. hard. “yeonjun, you’re drunk—”

“no ‘m not. ’m perfectly— ‘m perfectly fine,” the words stumble out of his pouty lips drenched in fatigue, his tone whiny and petulant, as he turns in his seat to wrap his other arm around your waist, forehead now sagging against your shoulder. your body stiffens up, tense muscles frozen in place as he continues his delirious ramblings. 

“i need to go to the bathroom!” you all of sudden exclaim, attempting to pry his arms off of you. he only squeezes you tighter, whining how you can’t leave here alone. you sigh, patting his hair, “you could wait outside?”

he accepts the offer, but doesn’t remove his arm from your waist as both of you stand. despite his almost six foot tall frame, you are forced to support him as he stumbles along towards the bathrooms and pray that you don’t twist an ankle in the process. when you reach the women’s bathroom, he still doesn’t let go. 

“nooo, don’t leave meeee,” he whines, pulling you back into his chest while your hand grips the door handle. calling his name, you slip your hands beneath his and grab them to pull them off of you.

“i’ll be right back, i promise,” you say once you situate him against the wall, his shoulder hunched and his head hanging down towards his chest. you give him a worried pat on his head before disappearing into the bathroom. in reality, you do not have to go. instead, you stand in front of the mirror, taking in your blown out eyes, feeling a scorching heat encase your face and spread down towards your chest. he’s drunk, you remind yourself. he doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

you wash your hands once. twice. three times, allowing the cool water to run over your heated skin. you splash some on the back of your neck. calm down. calm the fuck down. 

you are, indeed, not able to calm the fuck down before a flurry of knocks reverbates against the door. yeonjun’s voice follows soon after, asking if he can come in, if you’re okay. “why have you been gone for so longggg? i miss you!”

“no! don’t come in!” you yell, glad that all of the stalls are vacant. making your way back over to the exit, you wrench open the door and find him standing there, fist raised in the air as if he was going to knock again. 

he blinks once. then, an impossibly wide grin splits his face. “you’re back!”

stepping forward, you allow the door to swing shut behind you. arms wrap around you once again, but this time, you stumble backwards into the wall. when you look up, his face is just above yours. 

oh.

oh, fuck. 

this feels like a repeat of day one all over again, you trapped under his gaze, but this lacks the distance of that day. the unfamiliarity with each other. his hands haven’t left your waist, fingers pressing into your flesh over your thin dress, while the wall presses into your back. you have nowhere to go, but maybe you’re more drunk than you initially thought, because his lips look very inviting right now. you watch his eyes trail down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. his eyelids hood his dark, hazy pupils. the muscles in his neck contract, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leans closer, an electric attraction between your lips. you tilt your head, eye fluttering shut, moving closer, closer…

“y/n! there you are!” 

yeonjun jumps away from you as chaewon rushes up to you. her hands find your shoulders as she cries, “kkura twisted her ankle really bad! can you help me?”

you turn your head towards yeonjun, then back to chaewon, whose wide, rounded eyes plead you to come with her. “okay,” you say softly. “let’s go.”

yeonjun follows close behind, and all you can think of is what would have happened if chaewon didn’t show up. sakura’s ankle ends up being fine, and getting her back to her hotel room isn’t too difficult given the close proximity of the hotel. 

*:･

four days. four days you have known yeonjun, but it feels like it’s been years since you met each other. that fact strikes fear into your heart, remembering that the last time that this fast burn of feelings in your heart occurred, you ended up a brokenhearted mess for months. if yeonjun is the sun, his overwhelming heat melting you down into a puddle, then beomgyu was a black hole, all-consuming and ripping pieces of you away when he abruptly up and left. you’re unsure if you can go through that again, but at the same time, yeonjun doesn’t give off the impression of a drifter who wouldn’t tell you he’s leaving until after the fact. he’s a constant, a steady fortress. reliable, enduring. 

“good night,” yeonjun murmurs, both of you standing in front of your door. 

“good night,” you parrot back, rocking back on your heels, but you don’t really want him to go. knowing that isn’t realistic, you settle for opening your arms up towards him. for the first time, he hugs you good night, his lithe arms wrapping around your waist while he presses a drunken kiss into the crown of your head, and a feeling of being home washes over you. 

day eight.

he sits closer to you now. no longer is there a gap that separates your bodies, a full chair between the two of you. now, he sits right next to you, thigh brushing against your own. his hand sometimes finds your knee, never too high on your leg, never uncomfortable. just…there, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. neither of you mention what transpired between you last night, his affectionate words, the mere centimeters that separated your lips before chaewon interrupted. nevertheless, an unspoken barrier between you has broken, its bricks torn down by the hands of intoxication — due to alcohol, but also because of each other.

the almost-kiss replays in your mind in a constant loop; the woody citrus of his cologne is still strong in your nose, the warmth radiating from his flushed cheeks a phantom against your skin. you want to talk about it. you want to rip open the memory like a pomegranate for the two of you to share, but you don’t. you don’t know what you would do if you ruined…whatever this is that you and him have going on. he’s become a sort of constant in your life that you don’t think you can live without. you like him; you can admit it now. what you feel is not just a mere attraction anymore, an artistic appreciation for his unique features. he brings out a brighter part of you, a part that has been buried deep into your soul over the years, beneath layers of grime and dirt and negative experiences that you won’t let go of. the gray film over your eyes has been wiped clean by him, him and his beautiful heart he so easily bares to others. his heart that is so full of love — love for being alive, love for others — you wonder if any of that love could ever be for you one day.

he watches you sketch, you let him snap photos of you doing so. you share a small bag of chips, greasy fingers brushing against each other during those times in which you both reach in tandem. for hours, you sit together in a silence that is no longer awkward, but soft and tender. shoulder against shoulder, skin against skin. words aren’t required, your actions speaking for themselves. you bask in it all.

day nine.

the space needle isn’t that impressive.

you’re sure it’s a much better experience when you’re at the top, but yeonjun shares a fear of heights with you, so there’s no way in hell either of you are going up there. instead, you stand beneath it, amongst an ever-moving sea of seattleites and tourists, and wait for chaewon and sakura to come back down from the tall building. 

at the beginning of this trip, you’d allow for a few feet of space between your bodies, but slowly, it’s diminished to a scant few inches. you don’t really register this gradual change, as natural as it was. every once in a while, his pinky brushes against yours. neither you nor yeonjun move to do anything about it, either by pulling away or linking them together — a state of limbo that is befitting for a pair of strangers falling for each other. to make the dive into the unknown or to stay on the surface where it’s safe, that is the question.

“how much longer do you think they’ll be?” you ask, staring up at the pointed top of the tower. the sky is gray today, a bit chilly, but it’s an expected sight in washington during this time of year. “i’m getting hungry.”

yeonjun huffs a laugh, lightly elbowing your bicep. “maybe we could grab something real quick. i saw this taco truck nearby—”

“y/n? is that you?”

you’d recognize that deep timbre anywhere. the man that dropped your heart on the floor and vanished from the earth before he could watch the aftermath, the man that you never wished to see ever again.

turning around, you find beomgyu.

your phone slips from your hand, clattering against the concrete — but you can’t bring yourself to check if the screen has shattered. instead, yeonjun grabs it for you, rising with it as he anxiously asks if you’re okay. you don’t answer, too busy staring at the man now standing before you. he’s changed; his shorter hair has grown out past his ears, dyed a warm brown, though his black roots are apparent; soft pastel pullovers and light jeans have been swapped out for black slacks and a dark brown leather jacket, clothing choices more mature than when you last saw him. why is he here? you thought he lived in san francisco — you would’ve been less shocked to run into him there, but in seattle? 

“i moved here a few months ago.” shit, did you say that out loud? “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i’m on a trip,” you quickly answer, no further explanation leaving your mouth. 

he nods nonchalantly. you think you see his eyes flit to yeonjun for a second. “cool, cool.” 

“yeah.” why won’t he walk away already? your feet are glued to the cement, jaw tense as you try not to cry. the memory of him texting you that he had left the city and things between you won’t work out come rushing back. why now? how can he show his face to you after all he’s done?

he nods again. “are you here for long?”

“just— just for today.”

“well, i’d love to catch up with you before you leave. i’ve missed you a lot. maybe we could grab dinner tonight?” his smile is soft, hopeful — manipulative, in a way.

“i’m actually pretty busy today,” you begin, but of course, you have no idea how to tell him no. “but maybe if i’m free later.”

“great!” he exclaims, hands now in his trouser pockets. he looks over at yeonjun again, the upward curve of his lips flattening. “i need to get going, but i’ll text you later. you still have my number, right?”

“i think so.”

“cool.” his smile grows excited. “see you later, then.” beomgyu turns to walk away with a confidence in his strut that he didn't have when he lived in new york. when he was dating you. how shameless can he be? soon enough, he disappears into the crowd. blinking, you wonder if that really just happened, turning back toward yeonjun. his jaw is set, eyes still staring at the point where beomgyu vanished. the gray clouds feel suffocating now. the cool air constricts your lungs. you want the cement to open up and swallow you when his hardened eyes turn to you.

“who was that?” yeonjun asks, tone casual, but there’s a…jealous? edge to his question. you’re looking into things too much — there’s no way he’s jealous right now. 

“...my ex,” and it hurts you to admit it. his eyes darken as he utters a soft “oh.” you sigh, “yeah.”

he won’t look at you anymore. why won’t he? you didn’t do anything wrong. you had no control over beomgyu showing up. he purses his lips. “are you gonna meet up with him?”

your head shakes on its own, words escaping before you can think about them. “i don’t know, yeonjun.” 

“okay.” biting his lip, he turns so that he faces the space needle again, stepping away from you. you feel like strangers again, an ocean of distance between you bodies. “yeah, okay.”

*:･

you don’t meet up with beomgyu.

meanwhile, yeonjun is nowhere to be found. after the beomgyu incident, the two of you waited in tense silence for your other friends to return. he then made up some lame excuse to leave, and didn’t turn back when you called his name. you haven’t seen him for the rest of the day, even when you return to the train. he won’t respond to your texts. eventually, you stop sending them; he obviously needs space for whatever reason, so you will give him it. 

the terrible, painful thought of ruining everything you had with him sits in the forefront of your mind, taunting you. the girls try to distract you, showing you silly tiktoks and youtube videos and the like, but you simply offer them a half-hearted huff each time. once you explain what transpired while they were gone, however, their tune changes a bit. 

“y/n, i’m going to be very honest, and i need you not to take it personally,” sakura replies. though your head lays on top of your folded arms, you signal that you are listening with a bob of your head. she continues, “your response wasn’t the best. it probably confused him, and now he doesn’t know if you’re still hung up on this guy or not. if one of his exes came up to him while with you, and he told you he didn’t know if he was going to meet up with them later or not, how would you feel?”

“shitty,” you mumble into your forearm. 

“exactly. so give him space for now, and when he reaches out, explain and apologize. you owe him that much.” sakura sounds just like jennifer — they’d definitely get along. 

“i know. i will.”

the waiter comes around with water, and you order a strong cocktail to go along with your dinner.

day ten.

“has he texted you back yet?” sakura asks for the thousandth time today.

when you shoot her a defeated glare, she gets her answer. no, of course he hasn’t. he hasn’t responded to you since he left. “you said to give him space.”

“yeah, but i didn’t know he’d fall off the face of the earth,” she shoots back. sighing, you tip your head back against the wall next to her bed. a lake passes outside, surrounded by tall grass and trees. small hills rise behind the blue expanse, but you don’t feel the same urge to grab your sketchbook and translate the view onto the page anymore. it’s funny, how easily one person can affect your mood, turn everything upside down with the mere lack of his presence in your life. 

“he just needs time.” chaewon opens a can of soda with a pop! and takes a sip. “maybe it affected him more than we realize.”

“‘cause that makes me feel sooo much better.” sarcasm drips from your voice. “i’m such a fucking idiot.”

there’s a half-day stop in glacier national park tomorrow. will you see him, or is he going to avoid you for the rest of this trip? will you ever see him again? the emotions that swirl within you are reminiscent of how you felt before you met him. that grayness. that sinking sensation festering in your chest that claws it’s way down into your stomach and shreds it apart. you said that you wanted to burn, you wanted it to hurt, but this feels all too fast. too much.

sakura makes a noise in disagreement. “no, it shows that he cares about you. you just have to make sure you clear things up with him, and tell him that you like—”

“if you’re going to tell me that i need to confess my feelings to him, i really don’t think i can do that.”

“why?” chaewon prods. “what’s stopping you? he obviously likes you too.”

beomgyu. beomgyu is the fucking reason why. you can’t bare your heart to someone again, lest you get hurt all over again. after all that has happened, if yeonjun doesn’t reciprocate, it will confirm your worst fears — that you aren’t built to receive love, no matter how hard you try to mold yourself into a person that is deserving. dread churns in your stomach, rises into your throat like bile, acidic and fervid, as thoughts of worst case scenarios where you pour your heart only to hear “sorry, i don’t feel the same way.” you can’t do it. you can’t allow yourself to spiral again. however, you don’t divulge your reasons for holding back, remaining silent as you trace the patterns on the ceiling. 

after a deep, shuddering sigh, you give them a three word explanation: “i don’t know.”

day eleven.

stepping off of the train into fresh air sharpens your dulled senses. the national park is beautiful, for lack of better words; thickets of trees spreading out in all directions as far as the see. the sun is rising over the mountains that stretch high above your head — you’re starting to enjoy this view more than the lifeless skyscrapers that await you back home. the train station looks more like a little lodge than an actual station, but you appreciate its quaint character. reddish-brown wood makes up the majority of the small-scale building. it looks like a place where people would spend the night in, with a warm, cozy fireplace in the wintertime, and wide open windows in the summer to allow the refreshing breeze to waft in.

meandering down the path behind the station into a field of tall grass littered with bunches of tiny, white flowers, you begin to reflect on everything that has happened on this trip. originally, you went on this stupid trip with the goal to find inspiration, and last night you had a very important realization: yeonjun is that something — you started drawing again because of him, you started looking on the bright side of things because of him, and most important of all, you fell for him. you didn’t just fall for him in the way an artist falls for their muse, no. you fell for him as a person. getting to know him has been one of the best parts of your trip, but now all of that has gone down the drain because yeonjun hasn’t responded to you in over twenty-four hours and you have not a clue what to do to try to make things right. if he doesn’t wish to speak to you, then that’s that. it’s over. whatever momentum this fleeting relationship had has been effectively pummeled into the dust that would blow away with even the gentlest of breezes. 

you wish you could appreciate this view more. your paints sit in your backpack back in your room, out of sight so that you don’t have to think about them, nor hear their pleas to be used. although you now know why you lack the drive to paint and draw and generally create once again, no clear-cut solution to your problem comes to mind. instead, you wander through the grass towards a large, squatty boulder, climb on top of it, and plop down. your knees curl up towards your chest while your arms wrap around them, fingers tracing random patterns against your shins. fatigue solidifies in your bones, but the tranquility of the early morning the quiet tucks a blanket of peace over your body, swaddling the edges around you, cocooning you in.

you sit there, taking in the sounds and sights of nature, for hours. the chirping of birds sings a melody over the whisper of trees in the breeze. a deer leaps across the open field, disappearing into the trees, her fawn following close behind. bighorn sheep graze in the distance, their circular horns reminding you of cornucopias. 

the rustle of trees and grass obscure the sound of approaching footsteps from your ears. it’s not until yeonjun begins to climb onto the boulder that you notice him. you hug your legs tighter to your body as he sits next to you, but not too close. an invisible wall separates you. he does not look remotely near your direction, his focus far out in the trees. staring at him, you wonder what to say. i’m sorry? i have feelings for you?

“i never met up with him.”

he still doesn’t spare you a glance. assuming he wants you to continue, you do. “i don’t know why i said what i said, but it was shitty of me to put you in that position, and i wanted to say that i’m sorry. i was just shocked, i guess. to see him. he ruined my perception of a lot of things, jjun.” jjun. that’s a new one. you are quite unsure where it came from, it slipped out before you could think. no matter, he’s looking at you now, and it’s your turn to look out towards the horizon. “trust, commitment, love…”

his gaze burns into your temple. you take a deep breath, fingers clenching the fabric of your jeans. “they’ve all been ruined for me. it’s hard for me to trust anyone after what he did. i’m terrified that the people i grow close to will wake up one day and leave me without a word. i’m scared that i’ll never get the closure i deserve when they do. worst of all, i’ve stopped believing that love is in the cards for me, like there has to be something wrong with me for him to have left me like that—”

“don’t. don’t you dare say that about yourself.” whipping your head around, you finally meet eyes for the first time in nearly two days. they aren't soft like they usually are when they look at you, but hardened, guarded. “there’s nothing wrong with you. you have every right to be hurt, and he’s honestly a piece of shit for doing that to you, but it’s unfair to assume that everyone that comes after him will be just like him.”

“i know, and i’m sorry. i know you’re not like him.” he doesn’t respond, and you begin to chew at the inside of your cheek. you watch an ant crawl its way across the rock beneath you. the small insect disappears over the edge. 

silence. you begin to count the seconds. one, two, three, four—

“i’m sorry for not texting you back. i just needed time to think about things. a lot of things,” he starts. “i felt weird, for some reason. didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

you offer him a tight-lipped smile. “no, i understand. i forgive you.”

important words remain unspoken, but both of you refuse to address them. instead, his hand finds yours, he links your fingers with his, and both of you peacefully watch the sheep graze across the field.

day twelve.

not everything is fixed yet. 

despite being on speaking terms again, strain pulls your relationship taut. the unspoken words from yesterday hang heavy in the air, but you can’t bring yourself to give them a voice. you want to. your voice won’t work every time you try.

sitting next to yeonjun on his bed, you scroll through various forms of social media, bookmarking work that you find particularly interesting in between catching up on your friends’ posts. jennifer has been thoroughly caught up on what’s been going on after a long overdue apology for not responding to her texts. she understood, of course she did. she’s known you long enough to know how you can shut down whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed. 

“i’m proud of you for telling him. i know it’s hard for you to share, honey,” she cooed to you over the phone last night. “but you need to tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”

you know that. you know damn well that once you get off this train, it may all fall apart, a budding romance distinguished by reality. there’s no security, no safety net for you to fall into if you take the leap, and while he showed you an inkling of how he felt yesterday, who’s to say he’ll feel that way tomorrow? the next day? are you willing to tear your heart open for him to consume if there’s still a chance of him throwing it away when all is said and done? 

you don’t know the answer to that question. honestly, you don’t know the answer to a lot of those questions, stuck in this state of self-imposed purgatory. to rise or fall, what is the best choice? you don’t fucking know.

“is that yours?” he asks from over your shoulder, at a ceramic piece in your feed made by one of jennifer’s acquaintances. his breath snakes warmly over the expanse of your neck due to his proximity, his head so close you could turn and just kiss him— 

stop it. 

“oh, no. um.” you shift away from him slightly. distance. some distance feels more comfortable right now. “i don’t sculpt. i just paint, and draw.”

he makes an ahhh of understanding, leaning back onto his palms, the mattress sinking down with his weight. he’s staring at you like he expects something from you. what shall you give him? when you don’t say anything further, he does. 

“can i see some of yours, then?” it’s an innocent enough request. rather than simply press on your account, your fingers move on their own until you reach your gallery. why? are you really about to bare your soul to him? you guess so, because he’s gently taking your phone from your fingers after gaining quiet permission from you. 

he asks you questions as he pulls up certain pieces. the thought process behind each one, what made you do this, place that color there, how you came up with the composition, what the meaning of it all is. you try your best to explain each one. sometimes, your choices were the product of spontaneity. you thought yellow would look nice at that spot, so you put some there. her nose is crooked because it gives the piece more character. the color of the drapes in the background are blue for no particular reason other than the fact that your reference photo had blue drapes. you continue in a cycle of question, answer, question, answer, and some of your answers are more emotional than others. you remember where you were, both physically and mentally, when making all of these. you remember the ones you made when you were having a bad day, the ones where you felt like you were on the top of the world. 

then, he pulls up one that you wish he didn’t. it was buried so deep into your gallery that you have no idea how he found it — your most dreaded hyperrealism piece: a woman lays on her back, hair fading into the foreboding, void-like background. her face is twisted up into an abject sadness, a deep-seated pain that even now, you have no idea how you captured so vividly. her veiny left hand is splayed next to her head, thin crimson threads tied to each finger so tight that she has begun to bleed. the strings fall limp beside her, severed from their counterparts that meander off of the canvas. more red threads loop their way around her neck, pulled taut as if to choke her — and to her throat, she holds a pair of sharp-pointed scissors, hand gripping the metal tight enough to pale her knuckles. 

it’s dark. it’s terribly dark and you wish he never saw it. why did he have to see it? why did he have to choose that one? the world tilts on its axis as he stares down at the picture of your most soul-baring work, though you think it would be worse if he saw the actual painting in person.

“what’s the story behind this one?” he asks quietly. your lungs expel all air, and you’re left gaping for more. breathe, come on, you have to breathe. your inhale is shaky, shuddered. breathe. say something.

“that one…” your voice trails off into something quiet. scared. “i made it when i was in a really— really dark place mentally, um. i made it mostly because—”

he’s looking at you now, concern shining in his irises, but you push on. 

“because i stopped believing in fate.”

while you could say more, you stop yourself there. you hate digging — digging into your deepest fears and emotions that you keep locked behind a wall so that you never have to feel them. a pandora’s box sits in the center of your heart, wrapped with chains to keep them imprisoned. somehow, though, you think yeonjun knows what you really want to say: you meeting each other wasn’t fate to you, but a gross series of coincidences, and when he asks if you think so, you simply nod.

“but out of everyone on this train, i met you. i got to know you — shouldn’t that mean something? can’t that be considered fate?” he presses. something akin to desperation laces his words, an urgency you’ve never heard from him. 

it sure feels like fate, doesn’t it? after all of those times that you ran into him, how he found you in the observation car when it was just you in there, how your feelings have unfolded like taking apart a paper crane in the short nine days you have known each other — it feels like it should be fate, you want to admit that all of it does seem like the universe’s divine intervention. maybe you running away was really just you trying to deny your fate to meet yeonjun while on this train. maybe him finding you was fate, an apology from whatever is above for what they put you through a year and a half ago.

“i think—” you hesitate. “i think so. it’s hard for it not to when i feel like i’ve known you my entire life.”

and you sit there and he’s smiling at you like you just created the earth with your bare hands. chicago passes outside the window. the sun shines high in the sky over the high rises, glints across glass panes and into his room. all you have is one more day on this train, and most of it will be spent sleeping tonight. he’ll wait for you tomorrow, right? would he wait for you forever?

“you know, i tell most people that my name is daniel.”

tilting your head, you echo, “daniel?” 

he hums as he scoots a bit closer, planting his feet on the floor next to yours and leaning forward. his knees support his elbows as he stares down at the floor. “it’s my english name. i used it when i was in college, i use it for my work, but for some reason, when i met you, my actual name, my given name, came out instead. call me silly, but i think my heart knew you’d become someone special to me. i wanted you to use my actual name — the one my parents call me. the one my closest friends call me.”

“oh.” why does your chest feel so tight right now? 

he sucks his lips behind his teeth for a moment. “yeah.”

sitting there, you wonder how you should respond to that. words expelled like an exhale of air, colliding with each other in front of your eyes, unable to be unscrambled by your mind. this time, it’s you who reaches over, closing the distance between you with a hand over his. his palm flips open to meet your own, your fingers linking together like matching puzzle pieces. you take a deep breath, and squeeze. 

“thank you,” you whisper. thank you for being here. thank you for helping me find myself again.

day twelve (point five). 

“i’m gonna miss you guys so much!” 

chaewon is basically on the verge of tears at this point, constantly blubbering how she is going to miss hanging out with you every day as she pulls you and sakura in for a hug over and over again. sakura laughs as she pulls away for the thousandth time this afternoon. “girl, it’s gonna be okay. we’re gonna meet up for coffee soon, right?”

she looks towards you, and you give an enthusiastic nod. “right. i’ll invite my friend too. she said she’d love to meet you guys.” 

chaewon’s pout doesn’t vanish, but she looks a little less emotional after all of your reassurances. blinking back the remnants of her tears, she nods with a watery “okay.”

you bring her in for one more hug while sakura asks, “have you seen him yet?” 

“no, i haven’t heard from him since last night.” your teeth worry your bottom lip, peeling a piece of raised skin off. the sensation stings. 

her lips purse sympathetically, a hand being placed on your shoulder. “i doubt he’d leave without saying something to you, don’t worry. he has to be around here somewhere.”

“yeah, you’re probably right.” as chaewon pulls away, you check your phone again. no texts or calls yet. doubt ricochets around in your brain, but you know yeonjun; he wouldn’t do that to you. 

“i’d love to wait with you, but my manufacturer is pissed i didn’t call them back yesterday, so i should get going,” sakura admits with an apologetic smile. her fingers squeeze your shoulder one time before her arm drops back to her side. 

“i should go too,” chaewon sadly adds, kicked puppy eyes in full effect. “my cat is waiting for me. my friend said she was a little demon the whole time i was gone.”

“it’s okay,” you laugh, shooing them away jokingly. “you guys can go. i’ll be fine.” 

with a last group hug, they grab their suitcases and head towards the hallway that connects the train station to the subway lines. sakura twirls around, walking backwards as she calls, “keep us updated! we need to know everything,”

“of course!” you yell back, grin widening. chaewon turns back too to wave, and you wave back. eventually, the crowd swallows them up, and you are left alone to wait. a few minutes pass, and you realize that this sea of people will likely make it impossible for either of you to find each other. his contact is pulled up on your phone, your thumb hovering the call button. you look around one more time—

and he’s standing right there, mere feet in front of you, in all of his glory, long hair still flopping into his face, eyes still dreamy and all-consuming. you stand there for a moment, simply staring at each other with stupid, goofy grins overtaking your faces. long legs carry him over to you, and before you know it, you’re wrapped up in his arms and pulled into his strong chest. you bury your head into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

“thank god,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. “i thought you might have left already.”

pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous stare. “what in the world made you think that? i was waiting for you.”

his ears tint an opaque red, the raised apples of his cheeks flushed a similar hue. he’s bewitching, and despite knowing that since the very first day — the day that you drew him for the first time — there’s so much more to him than looks to you now. he’s beautiful in both body and soul, in heart and head. one hand removes itself from your middle to cup your jaw, steadying your gaze with yours. your heart pounds, knees weak like a newborn doe’s as he stares deep into your eyes. blinding are the emotions swirling in his dark irises, but it doesn’t burn anymore. it’s more like the caress of the sun in the springtime, bright yet gentle in its own right. 

“this feels long overdue for me to say,” he begins, eyes closing as if to steel himself. when he opens them again, resolve has been added to the mix. “but i have feelings for you. i’ve never fallen for someone so quickly. i’ve never met someone like you, and i just— i knew, from the very day that i saw you, that we’d have something to do with each other. and then we kept running into each other, and i just thought wow, this has to be—”

“yeonjun,” you call, interrupting his ramblings. he pauses, eyes wide and anticipatory, as your hand moves up to cover his on your jaw. you can’t help the tremble in your lips as you speak. “i feel the same way.”

his lips purse, hiding a smile, before he surges forward and embraces you for a second time. the pure, unadulterated joy that the action brings you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you’re almost…sad, when he pulls away.

“can i take you out on a date?”

the question throws you off kilter, and you have to catch yourself before you fall face first into his chest. “like, right now? with our suitcases and everything?”

“i’ve done much worse,” he chuckles, ruffling his hair, only for the locks to fall back down into his eyes. “but i meant later today, maybe? around six? i have to go take care of some things i neglected before i left.” 

“that sounds wonderful,” you gush. despite your best efforts in keeping your excitement to a minimum, you bounce up onto your toes for second, heels sinking back onto the floor. you swear he mumbles a quiet “cute” under his breath before he’s slipping his hand into yours.

“perfect,” he beams, before he playfully continues. “shall we be off to the subway then, my lady?”

giggling, you fall into step next to him, your arm swinging with his between you. “we shall.”

*:･

he’s right on time to pick you up, dressed casually but not too casually. a cool beige, short-sleeved button-up is tucked into a pair of straight-legged black jeans that stop at his waist. the chunky converse on his feet cause him to be a bit taller than usual. evidently, he is distracted by his phone, head ducked down as he waits for you to show up.

“yeonjun!” you call out, causing his head to snap up. once he does, you find that he’s somewhat styled his hair back — most of it has been swooped back towards his ears. a few strands fall into his face, but his forehead is fully exposed, and he looks…amazing. sometimes, you wish you were a poet instead, because then you’d have the words describe what you were feeling, what you were seeing. his jaw drops at the sight of you, dolled up in a jean skirt and frilly tank top over a thin long sleeve, your makeup soft and flattering to your features. 

“hi,” he breathes, and you repeat the greeting back to him. “you look…wow.”

“thanks,” you, biting your glossy lip. as his focus flits down to where your teeth dig into the soft flesh, you shyly smile, releasing it. a shock runs through you, new and carnal and it warms your stomach when he bites down on his own lip for a split second. “um, i know we didn’t really talk about where we were going to go, but there’s a thai place down the street from here, if you wanna go there? it’s my favorite.”

“of course,” he accepts, offering his arm to you. you loop your own through, standing close to him with your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow. “lead the way.”

now that neither of you feel the need to skirt around your feelings, silence no longer lingers between pauses in conversation — both of you are able to pick it back up with ease. you meant it when you said that you feel like you’ve known him your whole life, and it reflects in the way you banter with him without worry or care. it’s…nice, freeing, not having to think too hard about what you’re about to say. natural. everything with him feels so natural. 

when both of you are sated, in both terms of food and conversation, he offers to walk you back to your apartment. the sun is beginning to set, and the sky has faded into a wash of rosy pink. the hue reflects the giddy feeling churning in your chest, rendering you light-headed and dizzy and fuck you just want to kiss him—

and he does. standing in front of your apartment building, he swoops down and captures your lips with his. slow, unhurried, his lips taste sweet like thai tea and are as soft as clouds. no one leads the other, no one moves to deepen the kiss. no, instead, you and yeonjun savor the taste of each other, the syrupy, vertiginous feeling of your first kiss together. when he pulls away, his lips have a slightly swollen quality to them, though you’re sure own look the same. you don’t want him to leave yet. you want more, you want something carnal and irrepressible that, by the way he’s looking at you, he wants too. playing with the locks of hair at the nape of his neck, you pant against his lips. “come inside with me, please?”

soft eyes darken, and he takes your breath away once more with another kiss, hands squeezing your waist. once he separates your lips from his, he rests his forehead against yours. nerves flutter in your stomach. “okay.” 

you find it terribly difficult to keep your hands off of him as you unlock your door, as it shuts behind you. for a minute, you stand there, waiting for something, anything to happen — then he’s crowding you in against your door and his lips are on your again. although there remains an air of softness, urgency fills the gaps where your lips don’t quite meet as they meld together, his tongue slipping into your mouth to curl with your own. your shoulder blades press into the cool wood of your door, the warmth of his body against your front a dizzying contrast to your scattered mind — but you want more. you want him.

when he slips a knee between your legs and knocks them apart, you let him. when he presses that knee into your core, encourages you to grind against it, you let him, you listen. whining into his mouth, you tug at his shirt, at his belt loops, his hair — anything you can get your hands on, you’re pulling at it, grinding down harder as his jeans rub your soaked panties against your aching pearl. a cry rips itself from your throat, mouth leaving as your head is thrown back against the door. “y-yeonjun—”

“patience, love. i’m gonna make you feel good,” he mumbles as he ravages your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. his hands have snuck beneath your shirt and smooth over your stomach up to the cups of your bra, squeezing the flesh over the fabric. as you raise you arms, he helps you pull your top off, the article thrown onto the floor without ceremony or care. his hands loop behind your back, fiddling with your bra clasp. “can i?”

“please,” you keen, and he wastes no time in doing so, expert fingers sliding the straps down your arms until your bra, too, lays on the floor. lips find your right nipple, enveloping the pebbled flesh in a warm wetness that causes your back to arch into him. one hand pulls you into him, while the other tweaks your other tit. his teeth graze it, and the stinging edge of painful pleasure causes you to shiver. he hums, vibrations causing you to moan his name louder, plead for him to do more. leaving your breast, his mouth kisses and laps at the skin of your stomach. down, down, down, until he drops to his knees in front of you, swiftly unzipping your skirt and pulling it off of you. lips find your thighs, biting down lightly, and you squeak, hand finding his hair and pulling. he looks up at your through his lashes, absolutely depraved and almost drooling for more. you gulp, legs almost giving out under you as you smooth your hand over his hair, pushing the strands that have fallen into his face back. “can we— can we move to the bed?”

immediately, he stands, pulling you behind him before he’s placing you onto the edge of your bed with great care. before he can fall to his knees again, you curl your shaking fingers into his shirt. “take this off? i wanna see you.”

with a huff of a chuckle, he does as you ask, revealing a toned stomach, broad shoulders, muscled arms. your tongue darts across your lips as you drink him in, causing him to smirk. “like what you see, pretty?”

“y-yes,” you stutter out, quiet and wanting and full of lecherous need. your thighs attempt to squeeze together in order to provide some relief to your pulsating core, but his legs stop them from fully closing. his fingers find your jaw, squeezing the flesh. your cheeks heat up. 

“so fucking cute.” the praise sends a white hot streak through your stomach and into your center. your face is on absolute fire now, vision growing hazy around the edges as you watch him sink down between your thighs, your panties quickly discarded to reveal your center to his eyes. two fingers trace your folds before dipping beneath them to find your entrance. his eyes widen at what he finds, fingers coming back up coated in your wetness, glinting against his fingertips and knuckles in the light streaming in through your windows. “you’re so wet, baby. this all for me? a little kissing got you this needy?”

“mhm— oh,” you gasp when he brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking on them lewdly as he refuses to tear his gaze from yours. he moans at your taste, hot tongue swiping up the remnants that accidentally smeared onto the corner of his lips once he removes his fingers. his smirk returns, hands sliding under your ass to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, closer to his mouth. you sit up on your elbows to watch him kiss his way up your inner thigh, hands holding you open for him. there’s nowhere for you to hide, as he traces your folds with his tongue, dipping into your entrance and swiping up to your clit. crying out, your fingers find his hair in an ironclad grip. he groans against your pearl, your hips bucking up into his face before his arms snake around each thigh and hold you still. he alternates between circling the bud with his tongue and sucking it between his plush lips, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth as he loses himself in your taste. meanwhile, you’re already so close to the edge, you can feel your walls begin to clench around nothing, your hips jumping up as far as he allows. as he dips down to your entrance, his nose bumps against your clit, but his tongue is back in no time to continue its assault on your poor little clit. “jjun, ‘m gonna, please, ‘m gonna—”

“cum,” he mumbles against you. “cum f’me, pretty girl.”

with his permission, your head falls onto your sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your vision spots white. cries pour from your lips like honey for him to drink, but you never quite come down fully. rather, he keeps circling his tongue against your clit through your high, and as your orgasm subsides, another one already begins to build. tears prick your eyes as you plead, “jjun, no, can’t, i can’t, nonono— i can’t!”

“yes, you can,” he murmurs, removing his arm from your right thigh. his lips don’t leave your clit as you feel two fingers slip into your soaked entrance, smoothly thrusting in and out and curling up into your upper wall until he finds that soft spot inside you that has your voice shattering into shards of moans and staccato wails. he groans against you as he feels your walls clench, the pace of his fingers unforgiving as he coaxes another mind-shattering orgasm from your body. your fingers flutter around his walls, watery hiccups torn from your throat. this time, he slows down, helps you ride out your high, before he removes his fingers, licking his lips of your essence as he does. climbing onto the bed, he hovers over you, taking in your spit-slick lips and tear-lined eyes. he wipes the tears away with gentle motions, cooing when you whine. he sits there until you come back to him, lucidity shining in your eyes as you blink them open. smiling, you pull him in for a languid kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before he pulls away. 

when he caresses your cheek with his thumb, asking you if you’re okay, you lean into his touch, “mhm, want you to fuck me.”

“i can do that,” he laughs, causing you to reciprocate. standing, he slips his jeans and boxers down his thighs until he’s left in nothing, hardened cock veiny and flushed an angry red. you think it’s an average length, on the thicker side, the girth causing your mouth to water. as he runs his hands up your thighs, he asks, “d’you have any condoms, love?”

while you’d rather him fuck you raw, you know it’s safer this way. you point towards your nightstand. “there.”

as he fetches one, you scoot into the middle of the bed, watching him roll it on before he returns between your thighs, pumping his cock once, twice, lining it up with your entrance. his free hand grips your waist, watching as you move your hips to try to slide him into you. smirking, he presses his hips forward, cockhead dipping past your entrance. both of you moan at the sensation. slowly, he works his cock into you, little rolls of his hips until he’s seated fully within you, hips flush against your pelvis. 

“move,” you whine. “please move.” and that’s all it takes for him to swiftly pull out and slide back in again. as he thrusts into you again and again, his movements grow rougher, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot each time. moaning, you reach up towards him, forcing him to lean over you so you can kiss him again, swallowing each other’s sounds. he’s just as loud as you, praises falling naturally between his breathy moans. 

“feel s’good, baby. so fuckin’ tight and wet f’me. so unreal. d’you feel good, too?” he coos against the shell of your ear, warm breath curling against your necks. your walls clench around him at his desperate sounds.

“s-so good, jjunie,” you hum, feeling your third high of the night approaching. the knot in your stomach grows tighter as his thrusts grow sloppy, chasing his high as much as you are. a thumb moves down to rub your sensitive clit, quick little circles against the bud until your limbs are locking up, quaking as you finally cum around him. a few seconds later, his high hits him as well, his hips quivering as he spills into the rubber with a loud groan. 

slowly, he pulls out, ridding himself of the condom and soon returning to the bed to plop down next to you. arms pull you in close as you both pant and grin tiredly at each other, basking in the quiet that permeates the air, and he stares at you, dulcet eyes boring into yours. 

“what’re you thinking about?” you decide to ask, poking the center of his sweat-beaded forehead. taking a moment to respond, he pulls you even closer so that your noses almost touch. 

“it’s just— there’s this concept in korean — inyeon,” the timbre of his voice raises slightly as he switches to his native tongue, and lowers again when he switches back to english. “that, um, it means…”

his cheeks are growing the slightest bit pink, a shade that reflects the cotton candy clouds that float past your windows. squeezing his hand, you silently urge him to continue, soft gaze finding his own. a gentle kiss pressed to his cheek, his jaw, naked skin pressed against naked skin. together, whole, one.

he starts again, “there’s no direct translation, but it basically is fate. strings of fate. i truly believe the universe has connected us in some way, whether it be through some invisible red string or another force. and i know, i know what you said about fate, but i can’t stop thinking about how we found each other. there’s something beautiful about starting off as strangers and getting here. i don’t know, i’m just rambling at this point,” he chuckles, burying his nose into the pillow under his head. “i’ve just never felt this way about someone before. i’m sorry.”

with a gentle hand, you cup the side of his face, forcing him to look back at you. “don’t be sorry, that’s beautiful, and i think—” you sigh, blinking back tears that threaten to fall. “i think you’ve changed my mind about fate. i’ve also never felt this way about someone before. i feel like you know me on some level that no one else does. you just. you just get it, and i—” 

you don’t think this is quite love yet, but you believe what you’re feeling within your chest, tingling all over your body, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to it. he smiles, whispers a small, soft, “i know,” and lips find lips once more. hands find hands, and you feel alive. you feel like everything that you see is now in vivid technicolor, no longer masked by a veil of gray.

and when you wake up tomorrow, you think that you’re going to start a new painting.

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[sehodreamsthoughts]

yess i looked up his age before i started going tooo crazy but plsss 96…. 😩😩😩

also!! i missed this earlier but did u still wanna do that ask game? if so, i wanted to ask bamboo, sage, ivy, and aloe vera 🫶🏻🫶🏻

- 🥟 anon

YES, EVEN HIS AGE IS PERFECT, PLEASE SM I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS MAN OUT THERE AND WRITE 40 FICS ABOUT HIM 😭🩷

Hi babyyyy, here are my answers 🐥

bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home?

I'll be honest here, and some may think I'm a bit insane, but not really, it depends. If I arrive from the gym (if I go at night) I take a shower and change, if I arrive and have nothing to do (pretty rare, and usually it's when I arrive at 11pm or later and I'm too exhausted to do something else) I change to my pajamas, BUT if I arrive early from work and continue doing stuff in my house (for example, i have three classes a week in the evening/night and I get there exactly to just turn on my laptop and pay attention, or sometimes I continue doing work I have for the next day) I just keep wearing my clothes until I can't continue anymore and change into my pajamas if I can, but there are a few times (MANY TIMES) in which I just take off my bra and go to sleep with what I'm wearing (please don't think I'm crazy, I just really don't mind at all sleeping in jeans if I'm too exhausted 😭. My friends cancelled me for this -wearing jeans to bed- because in this last trip we had to leave at 4 am one day and I directly went to sleep with the clothes I'd wear the next day, IDK why I'm like this 💀)

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

I guess it could be said music and fiction since it's what I mostly consume, I don't really go to many museums since I don't think I have a real connection with paintings/statues/photographies (I do still enjoy going to the movies and theatre if it counts). HOWEVER, if I use the word touching, I'd say those first two. I've loved reading since I was pretty young and I've always done it with music, it's like, I need those two to be connected almost all the time. I think this is, and I don't know how this will sound, because I feel like books are different lives, and they're lives you can temporarily live, not matter your sex or appearance, when you read, you can imagine things, and if you want to (what I usually do), you can become part of the story too! It's like, you can feel things through the sentences, and it doesn't matter if the character is a man or a kid or a grandma, you can still become them if you want to. I don't know, I think I could talk a lot more about it but I would be just saying whatever comes to my mind, like I guess it could be said that I function with music, and I live through fiction or something along those lines 😭

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

Oh, this is easy, people can totally see it in my face, I'm pretty expressive, so if I feel something, most of the time my face will show it before I can do anything about it 😭. Of course I don't think it's a negative trait when it shows I'm happy, but It's still a bit problematic since when I'm working and people put obstacles to get on my nerves I try to look nonchalant, and even if I tell myself to not do it, sadly a lot say that my eyes are enough to show what I feel. Also, idk, I guess it's the way that my smile becomes fake AF too (I try to smile most of the time because when I'm not people say I scare them or I look mad when I'm not 🥺). I don't know what else could be a tell, I don't think there's anything else apart from my smile and my eyes, everyone says that I have a strong aura/energy and sometimes even from behind they can sense that something is happening when I'm upset or happy, but I don't know if that counts, it could be body language too but I don't really do anything in particular more than smile and look at people in the eyes🫠 (hahaha when people say my eyes and energy are intense I blame my parents because how could a Scorpio and a Leo have another Scorpio, insane!)

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

Mundane... Woah, I don't know, maybe prepare my own drinks at home? I thought about this yesterday when I was out because I still haven't tried to do it and I really like to drink matcha. I was more into normal coffee but I try to not don't drink too much these days because I have pcos and recently it was discovered that I have hypothyroidism (yeah, when I thought my results were okay, and there was just a little weird number, barely high, well when I came back from my trip and had my doctor's appointment they told me it was hypothyroidism lol) so I'm trying to drink only matcha and I'd like to learn how to make it because none of the coffee places that I frequent to sell it and I still refuse to buy Starbucks 💀

Well, that's a mundane thing I could try, but if I'm honest, I'd love to clean my own house, which means, I'd need to get my own house first, and that's not so mundane 💀

Can I ask you too? 🥺 I don't know if you can ask back in the game, but if you don't mind, I'd like to ask orchid, bamboo, sage and palm tree 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

If DCLA characters had Tumblr part 12 🕺🏼

🌼 punk-not-dead Follow

I’m gonna sound insane but I do want kids but I don’t want a partner.

Like… sure, someone to get steamy with occasionally would be nice, but when I picture myself as a mom I want no one else involved (except for friends and family helping out ofc). I wanna raise my child my way. I’m too bossy to have someone co-parent.

💍 queenoftherink Follow

You sound like my adoptive mother but in a good way.

When I think about it you don’t really sound like my adoptive mother because she’s just repulsed by other people’s existence, and I think that’s why she raised me alone. No family or friends helping out. She also refused to let me close to anyone else as she wanted to have full control over me. But she also shut me off and didn’t want me to know stuff in her life, and then demanded to be involved in mine??

Sorry this turned into a rant. Didn’t mean to. Anyway you are NOTHING like her and I am sure you’re gonna be a great single mother one day.

9 notes

🎨 biamakesart Follow

I’ve gotten asks if I’ve ever thought about putting my art up in an exhibition ☺️ Yes! That would be a lot of fun! My art style is often more cartoony, but I have been thinking of doing more paintings on canvases. Maybe one day I’ll become a professional artist, maybe they’ll put up my paintings in a museum! 🤭

Ok, I’m dreaming big 😉 I’m just happy if one person likes my sketches I make in my notebook 🩷

I hope everyone has a wonderful day! Remember to be yourself! 🌈

🧢 everythingscominguponmaxi Follow

I just wanna say that I see so much unhinged and crazy stuff scrolling through my dashboard, and then comes you with your sweet posts. Filled with calmness and love.

I hope you become a big artist one day and I’ll brag to everyone that I knew you when you were just a little blog on Tumblr

200 notes

💍 queenoftherink Follow

People are discussing if Regina George is a lesbian or not.

I think she is just high. She cares about no one because she is very high. Kissing people doesn’t feel like much because in her mind they’re probably dancing fruits.

Haha. Maybe Regina has a weird worldview like Cady had. But instead of everyone like animals it’s everyone as fruits or maybe ants. Or furniture. Talking furniture…

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl Follow

Were you high when you wrote this

💍 queenoftherink Follow

Yes.

69 notes

👨‍🍳 kunsts-best-chef Follow

It is so funny to randomly mention to people that I’m a lawyer student.

Anyway, today we’re making carbonara on my youtube channel! Uploading in 2 hours!

8 notes

🧢 everythingscominguponmaxi Follow

Sometimes I think about my childhood and realize… there were some CLEAR signs.

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi Follow

Yeah…

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon Follow

Yeah…

🍓 chico-fresa Follow

I’m so confused, what is this about?

#Are you three even talking about the same thing??

899 notes

💅🏼 ja-jazmin Follow

Do you guys think I would be a good mom? 😘

✌🏼 arodarmivida Follow

Yes!! Omg

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi Follow

Yes but you would probably be one of those moms who start a family youtube channel and record everything your kids do, until one day it gets out of hand you get cancelled and your children sue you.

But that is only if you start a family youtube channel😁 Otherwise I’d think you do a splendid job

🐬 fab-and-chic-delfi Follow

Yam’s brutal honesty scares me.

13 notes

🎸 beanie-guitarist Follow

Is she high or just like this? A new song I wrote the other day and thinking of performing later. It’s based on real events.

😎 rapmiro Follow

Idk man Luna can be a little quirky but I don’t like to think she is ever high on anything

🎸 beanie-guitarist Follow

Who says this song is about Luna?

😎 rapmiro Follow

I thought every song you wrote is about Luna?? I thought that was your thing or whatever

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon Follow

🤣🤣

😎 rapmiro Follow

Why are you reblogging with laughter emojis? Aren’t you offended this song is not about you?

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon Follow

😂😂

😎 rapmiro Follow

Maybe you are high.

16 notes

✌🏼 arodarmivida Follow

I went to that site where you can listen to music around the world from different decides and anyway, NO ONE put in A rodar mi vida for Argentina in the 90s smh

I could add it there myself but apparently you need to PAY to get an account there…

#i guess the rest of the world will never know the argentinean bangers of the 90s #also I listened to other countries #why does Iceland in the 70s have such bangers #Finland in the 70s too

2 notes

😎 rapmiro Follow

People who think I’m nothing… just you wait… one day the whole world will know the name of Ramiro Balsano

💄 not-homophobic-goth-girl Follow

Balsano…

😎 rapmiro Follow

Ponce*

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi Follow

My dude how do you forget your own surname and write someone else we know’s surname

😎 rapmiro Follow

It was a typo

🍓 chico-fresa Follow

Are you trying to take my identity, rapper boy? 😉

😎 rapmiro Follow

No it was a typo

77 notes

🎤 singing-is-who-i-am Follow

You’d think I would be more cultured due to living in so many different countries growing up, but all it got me was like. Kids shows that maybe were good but were dubbed in languages I did not speak and if they aired in other countries they might not have the same names, so no one knows what I am talking about.

Anyway the trouble with this is that I sometimes don't know if anything aired globally or if it was a show exclusively shown in that very country and it's so annoying. I’m going around with vague memories of some french dubbed anime except I don’t even know if it was an anime or if I just saw Totally Spies in french, or if it was none of that at all. Maybe it was not even animated in the first place and I’m just gaslighting myself that it was. Maybe it wasn’t even french but actually german.

55 notes

🌼 punk-not-dead Follow

When I was small I saw a show where a girl got poured water over her by two mean kids, and her immediate response was to bring out her lasso she carried with her, capture one of the kid’s hands and attempt to drag him down from the balcony.

I remember I became so inspired by this I tried to do it myself by asking my childhood rival to stand on the balcony while I tried to catch her hand with a rope.

We had to stop abruptly because her mother thought I was trying to hit her with it like a whip and forced me to go home.

🌟 supernova-number-one Follow

I don’t even remember this, but it makes sense. My mom banned Pippi Longstocking in our house because she thought I was gonna learn to ??? throw kids up in trees with super strenght I guess ??

🌼 punk-not-dead Follow

That is something I also wanted to do and I used to throw my sisters up in trees.

But the lasso girl was another girl, she was blonde and had a pet racoon.

… I guess there’s been a theme with unhinged little girls who perform great revenges on their bullies and question authority and always get in trouble that I’ve always loved and wanted to aspire to.

🎀 italys-biggest-bow-collector Follow

Only Camila will say stuff like ”I used to throw my sisters up in trees” and then not elaborate.

28 notes

🎧 pixiemix Follow

I HATE THIS GAME SO MUCH AAH

💃🏼 daisydances Follow

I encourage you letting out your feelings, but I also saw you throwing your nintendo switch across the room almost making a hole in the wall. Please be careful.

3 notes

[turtle-steverogers]

OMG so I was at an art museum today, and I saw a security guard with one arm, and my brain immediately was like security guard!Bucky and Artist!Steve, and like is Steve just someone viewing the art? Is Bucky guarding his art that’s being displayed?? Idk??? But either way they strike up a conversation about art or some other shit and fall in love and yeah those are my stucky thoughts for today

HI YES HELLO HI THIS ACTUALLY MAKES ME FERAL

WHY DO I SUDDENLY WANT TO WRITE THIS SO BAD

Because ok OK imagine:

DC era Stevie going to the National Gallery literally every fucking day. It's part of his routine, and hell, entry is free since it's the Smithsonian. So he goes in the morning after he's run for his routine 5-6 hours and showered accordingly. There's a few cafes inside, so he gets some coffee and a pastry at the Garden Cafe and eats it before making his way into the exhibits. At first, he's mostly exploring. Figuring out the layout of the entire place. Finding good exits, and assimilating himself to the times when the crowds are most dense and where he can sneak off to to wind down if he's getting overwhelmed. And once he figures out those basics, he starts really drinking in the art.

Spends a whole day in just the main building exploring their collections of medieval and classical art, then has a grand time the next day walking through the neat underground light sculpture walkway…

…to the East Building where all the modern art is. And he totally falls in love with that section, because it’s New To Him. Packed with all the art movements that he missed, and brimming with entire styles that he’s yet to learn and eager to absorb. 

And... that’s where Bucky works most of the time. In the East Building. 

At first, he doesn’t think much of the blond man that comes through often with his shoulders hunched and hat pulled low on his head, but he starts to really pay attention when it seems that the man is there... literally every day. From 10:30 am (after he’s finished his pastry ;) ) until closing at 5:00 (barring other circumstances). 

He’s got questions-- of course he does-- but the man doesn’t seem to want to be approached. Until one day, he is. Bucky sees the moment things go to shit. Someone calling out, “oh my god, is that Captain America?” and fuck, Bucky’s excited for a moment before he realizes the person is pointing to the man, who’s hat had just fallen off. And fuck, that is not a man who is happy to be spotted. His eyes are wide, and his face is sheet white as a gaggle of people start to approach. Backing away subtly and stumbling through harried excuses and, shit, Bucky may not know what it’s like to be spotted as a celebrity, but he knows what it’s like to be overwhelmed. He didn’t serve his time overseas without lasting scars-- visible or not.

So he seamlessly approaches the growing crowd, with a half assed excuse on his tongue about “Needing Captain Rogers for (blah blah blah)” then promptly gets the guy out of there.

Cue Bucky and Steve falling in love over art and a shared love for it. And Bucky may not have a lick of artistic talent in his body, but his appreciation for it is strong-- strong enough to have followed a career in it. And being able to watch Steve grow as an artist is a wonderful gift in and of itself.

(and if there are a few too many jokes about the big blue chicken cock on the roof, then... well, so be it. they deserve to laugh)

[haifengg]

A = Affection (How do they show their affection?) The kinship type of guy. A lot of holding hands and smiling forehead kisses. Almost everywhere does he wrap his arm around his s/o’s shoulder. At a basketball game or something he will pack an extra blanket or jacket to give to them if they’re cold. He is very thoughtful about the little things in a relationship.

B = Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?) Their smile. Seeing their whole face light up when they are happy or amazed. How their eyes sparkle and maybe their dimples show? It’s his favorite thing in the world. His s/o’s smile makes his aches go away and his day clear up. It clears his mental acne really.

C = Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?) Huge cuddler. All the time. (See more at H)

D = Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?) He would want to take his s/o to Chicago and show them where he grew up. Introduce his parents and show his partner around. Make them taste his favourite pizza, maybe a road trip? The open road (the highway to heaven....), sunsets and gas stations. Have midnight pancakes and black coffee at a diner!

E = Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?) This I am not sure about. I would say he puts in a normal level of effort. Pretty much the same amount as his s/o. He shows them they are precious and his most valuable thing in life but he won’t go full bonkers on valentines day or something like that.

F = Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?) Johnny handles it very well. He is very educated and cautious about mental health in general so he would take every fear seriously. If his s/o is anxious about anything he will do his best to make a situation more comfortable for them or try to avoid the situation as a whole. G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?) Accessories. Johnny strikes me as a men who gets his s/o small things likes designer bracelets or card holders. Things they wouldn’t buy themselves because it’s unnecessary and expensive but if he knows they will accept and like it and most importantly use it - he will get it to them. And if they say they can’t accept he would say something like “It’s alright, don’t worry. I got a discount on it because I worked with them earlier this year.” Even if it’s a lie.

H = Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?) Johnny is tall and he has long arms. Perfect to wrap around someone and should them from cold wind at a busstop or pull them in after a long walk in the rain. He knows how much his s/o craves those hugs and how protected they are feeling when he holds them tightly.

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?) Has this man issues with intimacy? No?? Have you seen him??? I would be just as confident if I was him. J = Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?) Jealous boyfriend right here. Johnny might act chill about his s/o hanging out with other men on days he is also available or seeing them walk out of lecture together on a day he wanted to surprise them by picking them up. He won’t let it show because it would hurt his reputation as LBBY (Laid Back Boyfriend of the Year) but his s/o will notice. Maybe by how short his answers are or because of all the questions he asks about that friend. Or maybe by the way he kisses them later that night. Maybe he also dislikes this side about himself because he knows he can trust them. K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?) Johnny’s kisses are to melt for. Just the perfect mix of soft pecks and slightly rough ... idk how to describe it. He would randomly bite his s/o’s lips to catch them off guard and if they blush he will laugh about it and pull them into a long lingering and smily kiss ... 

L = Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?) Constantly. He will say it. He will text it. He will moan it. He will ask you “You love me right?” There won’t be a day his s/o won’t hear or read it or both.

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?) In a committed relationship Johnny would think about marriage 100% but he doesn’t have to get married right away. Maybe ever. He strikes me as the kind of guy who is happy just being with his s/o. Maybe he will think different if they’re ever thinking about having a kid. But in that case time will tell.

N = Night out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?) Goofy dates! Game nights! Haunted houses where his s/o clings on to him! Arcades and hours of dance dance revolution! O = Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?) I don’t think he would go to fancy restaurants. Not even for an anniversary. It’s just not his thing and this casual red wine at the river or beach is more his thing than make dinner reservations and letting waiters tell him what wine he’s having. I am not saying that he doesn’t do it at all - maybe he enjoys it on some occasions (when he has to impress parents for example) but overall with his s/o ... I think a chill open air wine tasting might rather be his thing. P =Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?) He messes around all the time. He will make himself a bra out of lather when he’s in the shower try to seduce his s/o, he will mock the radio moderator and make up an semi-interesting newsflash about their breakfast. Q = Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?) Loves to ask their s/o for their opinion so he does it a lot. Sometimes he even changes his decision if his s/o has some really good points or perhaps even better ideas. R = Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?) This man is so goofy how is he not random. He will wake his s/o up in the middle of the night just to go see the stars. He would make last minute dinner reservations and trick them into a dinner date by asking them if they come pick him up. He is so random and I love it. Though it would drive me insane. S = Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?) A lot of cuddles and soft temple kisses during the early state of the night or the going-to-bed/settling in but once everyone is comfy and tired they slew butt to butt. He jokes about that constantly. T = Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?) He lives off and thrives on trust. A relationship in which he wouldn’t fully trust his s/o is no relationship to him.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a s/o?) Johnny radiates positive vibes, which makes him insanely attractive. He is so comfortable with himself and empowering towards literally everyone it’s as if you would have your very own personal cheerleader. With him on their side his s/o could literally accomplish everything. V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?) He is pretty open about his feelings and concerns so I don’t think it would take a long time for him to talk to theyr s/o about everything. He shares his worries with a lot of friends/close friends but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s less significant when he tells his s/o. He might talk to a lot of people about things but he might only take advice from a few. W = Weather (What would he do during a cloudy and rainy day?) Coffee and galleries. A day with rolling thunder or just light annoying rain for him is the most welcome excuse to take his s/o for a classy museum tour. It doesn’t matter if it’s modern art or some good old fashioned photography. He would love to spend hours there and not missing out of anything in the outside world. X = Xylophon (What does he think about their s/o’s taste in music? Is it different?) If you they like the same music as he does - he would love it. But honestly he is such an open-minded man we would listen to anything at least once and even though he doesn’t like it would say something like ‘It’s interesting.’ On a car ride or something they would agree on something they both enjoy or put on a shared playlist and he would peacefully endure the songs he doesn’t like or enjoying them just as much because they make his s/o visibly happy. Y = Yuck (Is there anything that might bother their s/o about him? Any flaws?) So... we all know how much he enjoys coffee. Sometimes maybe a little too much. And we also hopefully all know the rules of basic hygiene and how you shouldn’t overdo it. What I am trying to say it that boy has coffee breath. He has so much coffee during the day that he can’t possibly brush his teeth every time. Not saying that he is dirty or anything. Just ... take a hint - pop a mint.

Z = Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?) This man breathes passion. I honestly don’t think he could be with someone less passionate than him. More reserved? Yes. Someone who doesn’t take the lead? Yes. But someone lacking in passion is a no-no. I’m not even talking solemnly about passion in a sexual way. It also applies to interests or hobbies. Being passionate about a certain topic or sport, music, politics, ... you name it. He is the utmost passion able person and we all know it. Period.

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