#the way i miss writing my master thesis now that i have to prepare myself for a full time job o.Ô

[numetalkids]

why do i only ever feel ready and prepared for milestones or difficult phases in life once i've passed them?

[howyoutalktostrangers]

So,

No matter where you are in Victoria, you’re never a significant distance from the immensity of the Pacific Ocean — you can hear the subtle hiss of the tide on the wind, taste the salty moisture in the air, and sometimes when the mists roll in thick enough you can truly feel lost, surrounded by white oblivion.

The fog was thick-packed cotton the night before I moved across the province. I’d taken a position at a rural newspaper called the Nelson Star, ten hours away. Looming sheets of white were impaled by the twisted black branches of scraggly Garry Oak trees and the jutting gables of sleepy homes as I passed by them, a hooded apparition in the night.

My soundscape was the quiet hum of streetlights and the distant swish of traffic bombing out towards the Patricia Bay Highway. The past few nights I hadn’t been able to sleep, anticipating the upcoming life pivot, so I’d been going for longer and longer night walks to sort out my headspace. It felt like being in an altered state of consciousness, outside of time, like wandering into a dream sequence.

It was just after 10 p.m. and I had my puppy Muppet’s leash wrapped tightly in one fist while I scuffed my way down the suburban streets in my slippers and sweatpants, taking in everything I was preparing to leave behind. I passed moss-slimed boulders surrounded by bobbing sword ferns, a nature preserve called Christmas Hill hidden up a hilly side street, and carefully manicured lawns amidst Narnian foliage.

Muppet was a shih-tzu maltese, a nervous and demonstrative little creature, and had become my daughter in the months since I’d purchased her from a small farm on one of the Gulf Islands. It felt like having a familiar, like she was channeling my energy. She strained at the leash curiously, unbothered by the deepening gloom, nosing her way through the dew-slicked grass.

I’d never loved living anywhere like I loved living in Victoria — there was some sort of vital spiritual connection there, a youthful energy — but lately I’d been feeling stifled and wasted and trapped. A few weeks earlier I’d wrapped up a book publishing internship that hadn’t turned out like I wanted. For a while I’d been contemplating a move to Toronto to pursue a Master’s in journalism, but at the last moment I’d taken the risk of applying for a position at the Star, out in a mysterious and romantic region called the Kootenays. I figured why go to school if I could just have a job now?

Now everything was packed, and in the morning a new era of my life would begin. I felt desperate to make progress with my career, to publish a book, to turn myself into a literary professional. I’d wasted too much time miserable in my basement suite, arguing with my girlfriend Paisley and consuming copious amounts of cannabis. Every day I felt an insistent sense of dread, this fear that I was somehow missing out on the life I was supposed to be living somewhere else.

Then there was the writing. For years I’d been laser-focused on publishing my first book, but I wasn’t making much progress with the thesis manuscript that I envisioned as my ticket to literary infamy. The working title was Whatever You’re On, I Want Some, and it was a collection of interconnected stories that came together as part of a larger narrative — not unlike A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan, my favourite novel. My narrative was about addiction and grief and sexual abuse, but mostly it was about the God-shaped hole inside of us all that yearns for some sort of spirituality, for catharsis, for deliverance from the banality of existence.

It was a topic that had haunted me since I’d lost my faith as a teenager.

“I want something else,” I sang to myself, muttering the words to my favourite Third Eye Blind karaoke song. “To get me through this, semi-charmed kind of life.”

The sloping entrance to Spencer’s apartment complex was lined with medieval-looking stone walls, leading up to a parking lot plateau framed by bright orange arbutus trees. Muppet was sauntering lackadaisically now, familiar with her surroundings, and sat patiently while I hit the buzzer. Spencer tolerated my canine minion in his house, but just barely, so she had to be on her best behaviour.

While I waited I gazed up at the night sky, wondering if my relationship with Spencer would be a casualty of my ambition. He was my best friend and my closest confidante, but I simply couldn’t live in Victoria any longer. It felt like life was full of these impossible choices, where you can never receive something with out first giving something up.

“Sorry dude, the buzzer’s fucked,” Spencer said, swinging open the front door in a swirling robe. He was like Julian in Trailer Park Boys, clutching a half-finished drink in one hand, and I could tell he was already stoned. He held the door for us, and gave me a welcoming thump on the shoulder.

“So you’re on the road tomorrow,” he said.

“Catching the first ferry. I’ve got like ten hours of driving to do.”

“How do you think Muppet’s going to handle that?”

“Ah, I’ll stop for walks and stuff. She’ll be fine. It’ll be an adventure, right?”

“I hate to rain on your parade, but that little dog is going to shit and puke all over your car. Just saying.”

Spencer swung open the door to his apartment, and like always we were greeted with a mysterious painting of an elderly warrior in an ornate golden helmet. He’d inherited this piece from his grandfather — nobody else wanted it — and something about it was unsettling. It wasn’t that its eyes were watching you, it was something more subtle than that. I think that’s why Spencer liked it, because it drew a sort of baffled attention, it wasn’t an ordinary thing to put on your wall.

Was he the suffering soldier, battle-scarred and staring into the middle distance? Or did it symbolize something else to him, something I didn’t understand?

After pouring me a quick drink in his sparse kitchen, Spencer led me and Muppet out to his back porch. We were on the ground floor, slightly below the lawn, so that when we sat smoking it felt like we were in some subterranean lair. We watched the sprinklers while passing a joint back and forth, gossiping sometimes but more often talking endlessly about movies and TV.

I was here at least once a week, on Sundays, to catch the latest episode of Boardwalk Empire. Starring Steve Buscemi, it was a lavish gangster epic set in 1920s Atlantic City. I found that particular era fascinating, because of Prohibition and the rise of organized crime bosses like Lucky Luciano and Al Capone.

But the true reason we devoted this much time and attention to television was because we both had the same dream of someday working in the entertainment industry. He’d been to film school, and had even directed a short student film starring our friends, but he’d become disillusioned and bitter after dropping out due to financial reasons. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still holding out hope that someday it would happen for him, that he’d find a way in, that he’d be able to escape the 9-5 life.

I could tell that he was jealous of my journalistic adventures, but he wasn’t willing to risk the financial instability that would come with making an equally bold choice for his life.

“So you’re going to be writing about the arts?” he asked, once we were settled into camping chairs. “Like concerts and movies and shit?”

“I’ll be doing a bit of everything, they say. Even sports.”

“Sports? But you hate sports.”

“It’s all the same, man. You just ask questions, get the answers, then write them down.”

He laughed, handing me his pipe. “But you literally know nothing about sports!”

“I don’t know anything about this town either. But I’ll learn.”

Spencer and I had already discussed how this opportunity would like watching the real life version of all five seasons of The Wire, a show about urban Baltimore that explored the intricacies of the drug trade and the institutions that run the city. Nelson would become my Baltimore, and then I’d populate it with a cast of characters. The amazing thing was I wouldn’t have to invent anything, because they really existed!

I wondered if I could write a book like Never Shoot a Stampede Queen by Mark Leiren-Young, an award-winning memoir about working at a paper in Williams Lake. I knew from my time working at the Whitehorse Star that this was the type of job that gave you access to places and people you would never have otherwise. I didn’t care that it was a rinky dink publication in a small Canadian town — I was going to act as if I was working for the New York Times.

“So what’s going to happen with Paisley?” Spencer asked. “She still coming?”

“I’m going up first. Then she’s flying a couple days after.”

“Separate.”

“Yeah, she needed more time to pack. Her Mom’s helping her.”

Spencer jutted out his lip thoughtfully before taking another puff. He was being as diplomatic as possible. He’d made no secret of the fact he disapproved of Paisley and thought she was ruining my life. Part of it was territorial, just him looking out for his best friend, but there was part of it was entirely justified. I was compromising myself for this woman, destroying myself even, but it was like being addicted to a drug. I couldn’t imagine a life sober of her, no matter how histrionic and destructive she got.

She was a vegan rich girl from Calgary, devastatingly beautiful, but on the opposite side of the spectrum socially and politically. We were proud of ourselves for the the little family we’d created, and the adventures we’d had all over the Yukon and Nova Scotia, but the end of our relationship somehow felt both inevitable and unattainable.

“What’s she going to do there? You know yet?”

“She’s been talking about starting a little dessert business. She makes these treats.”

“And are they disgusting?”

I laughed. “No dude, they’re okay.”

Once we headed back inside, Spencer fiddled with his projector for a moment before starting the latest episode of Boardwalk Empire. It was a familiar ritual, one I would miss. He was wearing slippers and baggy pajama bottoms, his feet propped on the coffee table while he dug into a takeout box of Chinese food.

Over the years my family had started referring to Spencer as my wife, which felt apt, because there was an intimacy between us that transcended normal friendship. I considered him a member of my family, but I was getting used to the feeling of leaving my family behind. As the action flashed across his living room wall I watched the colours dance on his face. He looked like a little kid.

The episode revolved around Richard Harrow, a World War I sniper missing half of his face. Played by Angelica Huston’s son with a mask similar to the one in Phantom of the Opera, he is a simple and loyal man capable of extraordinary violence. In an earlier episode he’d wiped out a hotel’s worth of gangsters in a blood-spattering shootout, but in this episode he was facing an even more daunting enemy: his own mind.

We watched as he trekked into the woods with a shotgun to commit suicide.

“You think he’s going to do it?”

Spencer shook his head, chewing. “They wouldn’t waste a main character like that. We’re in the middle of the season.”

“A lot of war veterans commit suicide,” I said.

“Not Richard Harrow.”

At the end of the night, I hesitated in his doorway while I struggled to get Muppet’s leash back on. She wagged her tail and squirmed out of my grasp, probably desperate for a pee. Spencer was leaning against the doorframe with a fresh drink, his eyes pink. He’d already told me that he would visit in the Kootenays, possibly in the next few months, so it wasn’t like I was never going to see him again.

We gave each other an awkward half-hug, then I began back-stepping down the hallway.

“Paisley’s going to decapitate me if I stay out much later,” I said.

He smirked, like he was leaving me to my fate.

“Drive safe, dude.”

The Literary Goon

[sanzaibian]

I’ll be honest… this is not what I expected. I even went back to my Tumblr account and saw that my last like actually had a ton of different people on it, yet this is what happened when I saw this damned post…

Let me just start explaining what happened, okay ? See, I’m quite busy now, with the end of the second semester, the Master thesis to write and all the other work I need to do and file, so I don’t have much time to write, plus I was quite sick at about the time I wanted to write a special Eid story… that won’t happen, I guess ‒ though do check out @occamstfs ' excellent work on that theme. But yeah, let me not be distracted. Because I was sick, I wasn’t in the mood, but I started checking it back out for a few days, and then the post happened.

At the very moment I saw it, I was suddenly taken with convulsions.

I took my headphones off, unwrapped myself from the cloth I call clothes, and prepared to go to the toilets. It might be vomit, for all I know… and I’ve seen way too much of it in recent days…

But I didn’t have the time to even get up that I felt my abdominals harden, convulsing.

I watched flabbergasted as from my small fat abs sculpted themselves. All of that which I wrote about was actually… becoming reality ? I somehow felt both excitement and dread… especially dread, actually. I don’t actually want to be someone new altogether, just how would I be able to continue to live !

As I was doom-thinking, that hardening, which somehow was accompanied to a darkening of the skin, spread. I saw my hips harden, and I shifted my ass as its globes were becoming more muscular. I also watched as – and I still don’t know how to feel about it – my dick grew bigger, and not (only) because it was hardening ! Up the torso, I saw as my pecs were bulging out, setting themselves apart from the rest of my body, nipples perking out. When I saw them inflating, I couldn’t help myself being fascinated – and missing altogether the quite frankly impressive enlarging of my legs and then feet – and taking my hands to feel them. Oh, so divine was that feeling… fuck, I can’t help myself from doing it right now, and it just doesn’t get old…

But that was not to last, as suddenly my unyielding back pain struck once again. So I just moved my neck right to left, and made rows with my shoulders, when suddenly CRACK ! my shoulders were farther apart.

My arms were next, growing bigger and bigger, especially my biceps which, frankly, became massive. And as the dark reached my hands, I saw my nail polish break down and dissolve into oblivion. Honestly, if not for the fact that my life has been turned upside down, that I’m unrecognizable to literally everybody and that this whole situation will be hell for getting some new official papers, the fact that I lost the nail polish that I just put on yesterday would be by far the most inconvenient thing that happened from this situation. I guess I’ll have to put it back on, but then… ugh…

Sorry, getting back to the point. By then, my cramps were finishing, and I started feeling my head burning up, at it was remolding, to what I imagined to be another shape. Sensing an opportunity – and knowing full well how once is supposed to act thanks to all the stories I read here – I quickly made my way to the bathroom, to see myself in the mirror.

And when I saw the mirror, I was just starting to feel like my hair was scratching. I took my hand up, starting to scratch it, only to find my hair straightening, blackening, and especially receding into my scalp. I was glad when it stopped at only short hair, but the worst was to come.

I felt my jaw needing a scratch.

Even though I knew what was coming, I couldn’t help myself. I scratched as I say black hair growing, growing and growing. By that time, I was crying, as I saw what was, as a non-binary guy hating on his hair, my worst nightmare happening. The mustache part was the first to finish growing, already a respectable length that would be considered quite scruffy in today’s society, yet the rest of the beard continued growing.

And it grew, and it grew, meandering between my fingers.

I also looked down at my body hair, knowing them two to be always related. However, I only found it to be shrinking in covering, thinning in some sense. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m still quite hairy, yet… less than before, when looking below my beard, somehow ? I guess even heaven-mandated hairy transformations think I’m too hairy…

And then, to top it all off, I saw a weird green, red and black goo snooping out of my pores, and then hardening into clothes. I was now wearing black sweat pants, as well as a green and red Moroccan Royal Federation of Football sweatshirt, as well as new boxers, new socks, and new trainers.

Great. Now, I not only look like the epitome of masculinity, something I do not want, but the only clothes that suit me are football clothes, a sport I absolutely do not care one bit about.

I’m so… confused by all that. Returning to my computer and seeing the post that made all of that happen, I just can’t help to feel like it… shouldn’t have happened. Yet it did. All because of that one damn post on Tumblr.

But I guess you all are happy, happy that I’m now a Moroccan jock that is all hyper-masculine, wearing a Salafi-approved beard, and that I decided to share the story.

But you don’t care that I’m now going to have to prove my existence to my family and to the state, that going out on the streets will prove fundamentally different in a way I’m not prepared for, and that now my dysphoria is going to go through the roof. Look ! Here is my cutest I can manage !

Well, now that I’ve said everything… let’s send that SMS to try and somehow let my family know that I’m me. Be happy that I am the one going through that, and not you. It’s all sorts of wrong to actually be in in another person’s body, no matter how hot it seems in written prose.

Though… I’ll admit that beard is growing on me… I might keep it for a while. I don’t know, something feels… weird about it, and I don’t quite know why…

Your last like is your new body. Who's winning?

Dumb muscle himbo for me it seems!

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side A: you.]

i started writing this over a year ago and never got around to finishing it; it’s meant to be a three-part thing. so maybe if i post the first part, i’ll be inspired to finish the rest. this wasn’t written to be shared with the public, mostly just for myself (which is why some of it can be cringey), but here we are anyway. hehe. happy birthday lee jihoon! 태어나줘서 고마워!

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 23k (LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

side A: you.

“Are you insane?”

If it were months ago, you would’ve winced at the harshness in his tone, but you’ve hardened yourself with resolve, almost saddened that this was the most communication you two have had since, well, you couldn’t recall. “I’ve been contemplating this for a while now.”

“But you didn’t talk to anyone else about it!”

No, you thought bitterly. You just didn’t tell him.

“I’ve already talked to my parents,” you spoke coolly.

He scoffed. “As if they’ve ever actually cared about you and your life.”

You felt anger flare up with a cold dousing of shame. “And what—” You spat. “You do?”

“Wha—of course I do! I’ve always looked out for you! I’m your best friend!”

Bile rose in your throat. “Best friends wouldn’t flake on every single hang out to go off and spend time with their favorite noona—!”

“Don’t you dare pin this on me.”

Your eyes shot up to his.

Cold. Piercing.

So unlike the bright crescents you were used to him having around you. He used to shine in your eyes, never too bright, but in a way that demanded your attention as you basked in his almost ethereal glow.

You were reminded that the moon has phases. And maybe that meant it was time to start anew.

Even if it meant disappearing from sight.

A heavy silence passed over the two of you.

You prepared so many answers to the questions you thought he would bombard you with.

What? You were going to a prestigious international academy several thousand miles away.

When? You were leaving in two months.

How? You got a presidential scholarship.

Why? Because you loved him so much it terrified you.

You had all of these answers.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he didn’t care enough to ask.

The tears couldn’t even form in your eyes. You knew it would be selfish and manipulative if you did. He always felt responsible when you cried.

“You can’t leave,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

A lie.

“You can’t just fucking leave.”

Leaving him, the unspoken message.

“Y/N, you— ”

“Let me go. Please.”

You heard his breath hitch.

You forced yourself to smile softly at him, wanting to ignore the visceral pain in his tensed jawline, widened eyes, and clenched fist. You knew the irreversible wound you were inflicting. Your resolution almost shattered at the prospect.

Almost.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Another lie.

“Don’t bother.”

You supposed you deserved the door slam that followed his footsteps, not even allowed to watch his retreating form.

You closed in on yourself, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks quietly.

He would be fine.

He always was without you.

Always will be.

Only a week later, in the comfort of your childhood bedroom nestled in the midst of Busan, did you receive the news from your neighbor a few streets down.

Jihoon decided to go through with moving to Seoul to become a trainee. I hope you can come by to congratulate him! His father and I would love to have you at the party!

Questions ran through your mind.

How long has he been thinking about this? Did he ever mention wanting to become an idol? When did he even apply to become a trainee? When is he leaving? Is he cut out for trainee life? Is he going to make his own music or be forced by his company to make inauthentic music? Is he going to remember to eat his meals? Will he be okay?

You paused for a moment.

Was this because of you?

You realized it didn’t matter.

You weren’t going to get the answers you wanted.

You didn’t deserve to.

You deleted the message.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Man, fuck this thesis work.”

“Careful, if they hear you say that, they might pull your funding out from under you.”

Hyejin glared at you, her lashes unceremoniously sticking a little too high up her eyelid. You wondered whether she knew there was no point in wearing makeup everyday when her only company was her pipettes and centrifuge. “God, sometimes I wish I was in your major.”

“You would wanna read about things like depression and emotional incompetence?”

“Why not? I see it all the time in my major. God. I was at a drinking party the other day—” You winced in advance. “And I just want you to be aware that if you were to include STEM majors in your sample, your EQ mean would drop so fast.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Alright. Fair. To be honest, though, my research focus is mainly on the public and government’s responses to providing resources for group homes and how to make transitioning a little easier. I’m hoping to garner more attention and funding in order to do more activism. So, technically, I don’t actually measure EQ. Although, I can make guesses based on the public forums that are out there.”

“All I heard is that you’re an absolute saint.”

You laughed. “Maybe to you, unnie.”

“D’you wanna get schwasted tonight?”

“I can’t. I have book club.”

“God, you’re such a fucking nerd. Why am I friends with you again?”

“I distinctly remember you saying it was to, quote, ‘ruin me.’”

“Seven years later and I still haven’t.”

“I dunno about that. I started watching that drama you recommended and my sleep schedule—”

“Isn’t it so good?”

You laughed as she started parroting off lines from the drama and you agreed after much coercion that, yes, the second-lead was indeed a better fit.

Your phone pinged beside you and you stole a quick glance. Your breath hitched as Weverse popped up on your screen. Your pulse slowed down to a normal rate when you realized the notification was from “RM 🌟”.

Maybe you should just delete the app.

You turned your attention back to the girl who was your first college roommate back at Yale, where quick introductions were made, and not a second later, began laughing at the prospect that your RAs probably put you both together for being foreign students from South Korea. 

She was much more refined back then, having already spent an entire year on her own as a Yale undergraduate, but your burning flame managed to craft something entirely new; just as she, like a river running its course, smoothed out your rough edges over time.

She led you back home.

Back to South Korea.

Back to him.

──────────────────

“You said you don’t break promises, Y/N.”

You found yourself grimacing. “Jihoon, that’s not fair—”

“Fair? Y/N, I kicked your ass at darts and now you said you wouldn’t keep your promise.”

“I don’t want my first ever tattoo to be whatever that is!”

“You pinky promised, Y/N.”

Your bottom lip jutted out. “I can’t even tell what it is.”

He stared down at the napkin he drew his artistic rendition on and then looked back at you incredulously. “It’s a firefly. Are you blind?”

You blinked. You could see the wings? Maybe? And those are lines that represent glowing? Not some weird excretion? You held your tongue and asked a more appropriate question. “Why a firefly?”

“I dunno. Seemed fitting. We always go see them together in the summer. They remind me of you. You remind me of them. That’s all, I guess.”

“Aw,” A toothy grin spread across your face. "You think I light up the night?”

“Sure, if you want.”

You could tell that Jihoon was getting embarrassed and wanted to immediately stop talking, but you being you, refused to let it happen. You piped up with your typical know-it-all attitude, “I read somewhere that fireflies represent inspiration and guidance. And hope, I think.”

He looked you straight in the eyes.

Your heart leaped into your throat.

“I guess that’s you, firefly.”

──────────────────

And here you were, in Seoul, a knowing pang in your chest that constantly reminded you of just how close he was. How your relationship always was. Close in proximity, but always left you wanting something more. Something else.

You blinked up at her, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Y/N—”

“I know,” you blurted out.

“You just look like you’re on the brink of a panic attack every time you see a Twitter or Weverse update.”

“It’s not that bad,” you grumbled.

Hyejin’s features softened.

Your chest tightened. You hated that look.

Pity.

“Actually, unnie. I’ll join you tonight. Screw book club.”

A knowing smirk spread across her lips. “Alright, bumblebee. My EQ is high enough to realize you’re running away from your issues, but it’s low enough that I won’t do anything about it.”

“I’ll add that to my data then.”

She flicked your forehead.

―――――――――――――――――

You groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, staring down at Hyejin’s bare legs wrapping themselves around your torso.

God. How much did you even drink?

You untangled yourself from her limbs, quickly checking her skin to make sure she didn’t have a repeat of three years ago when she somehow convinced you to let her get a tattoo of the two paper clips emoji on her inner bicep.

“They represent us, bumblebee.”

“How, unnie?”

“We’re like… leaning on each other.”

“That’s... so beautiful, unnie. Thank you.”

You shook your head fondly at the memory, staring at your own addition of two paper clips on the opposite bicep, sans the alcohol in your system. So, who’s to say which one of you is worse than the other?

You tried to unlock your phone but the brightness did too much damage to your eyes to where Face ID couldn’t recognize your look of disapproval. You quickly swiped the brightness all the way down to read the time.

5:43am

That meant you only slept an hour and a half after getting home.

You peeled off the skin-tight clothing your roommate had so lovingly forced you into and grabbed a loose fitting tee and shorts. You knew you had the weekend to recuperate since you’ve completed your work ahead of your deadline.

You poured yourself a glass of water and emptied it in the span of 10 seconds. You could feel your brain recovering from its shriveled state, as if the water seeped into your skull and was being soaked up. You wondered if Wheein, your ridiculously cute neuroscience major friend down the street, would be able to explain why that is.

You hummed to yourself as you grabbed another glass of water and a reusable metal straw before making your way back to your room, where Hyejin was convinced that your bed had healing properties since she never woke up with a hangover when she slept in your space.

“It’s like you just have this homey superpower.”

“Okay, unnie. Please stop eating your hair when I’m trying to feed you toast.”

You set the glass at your bedside table and decided to go through your phone’s notifications before rousing Hyejin awake.

You scrolled through the notifications, mostly people making sure that you both got home okay, Wooyoung sending you a money charge with the caption: I may have ordered you the taxi, but you’re paying for it. Love you noona xoxo

You scrolled until you saw a lone notification from Instagram (why? you haven’t posted in two weeks?) that nearly made you drop your phone in the same way your heart did.

[04:17] wzljh__ liked your post

Your hands shook as you stared at it.

You took a screenshot.

(Just in case.)

You clicked on the notification that took you straight to the post wzljh__ liked.

It was a random post from three years ago when you studied abroad in Japan during your junior year, where you were praying in front of a temple for, according to your caption, “to be able to change the world… and also get into a PhD program.”

You clicked on the usernames that indicated who liked your post. You couldn’t find the familiar handle anywhere. Secondhand embarrassment rushed through your veins and passed as quickly as it came.

You came to three conclusions at once.

1. Lee Jihoon reactivated his Instagram.

B. He didn’t block you.

III. He stalked your profile.

──────────────────

“Y/N, I really don’t think—”

“Jihoonie, I need to get more likes on my post. Therefore, I am making you this profile. You don’t even have to go on that often. Okay? You can deactivate it once I go viral enough to have the world at my disposal.”

“That’s never going to happen—”

“Believe in me more, would you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I believe in you.”

──────────────────

Jihoon immediately reprimanded you, telling you that you didn’t need to appease anyone as a sixteen-year-old (God, he really was too mature for his own good) but your whining had him yielding once you promised that you’d catch up on One Piece over the weekend and that you would make a bento for him.

He only ever posted once (at your request), but he did like every single one of your posts back then, although, no one would know since those were all archived (for the sake of preserving your current social life by preventing the increase in Hyejin’s arsenal of embarrassing photos of you).

Only months later did you have that falling out and his deactivation quickly followed. You believed he wouldn’t ever reactivate his personal account, especially with his woozi_universefactory account set up for Pledis, which, even then, was hardly posted on.

You clicked on his profile to see the anonymous profile picture still there. You saw his followers list and saw only four names.

That once familiar wave of jealousy that plagued you for over a decade never came when you saw her name. It dissipated a few years back after a night of confessions and mascara stained tears, hushed whispers and muffled sobs tucked away in the corner of a Busan bar in the middle of winter.

You checked his following list and saw several musical artists as well as your own handle.

Wait. Where was hers?

You navigated to her page to make sure you weren’t completely delirious and your brain slowly caught up with your eyes.

He wasn’t following her.

You typed in her username to find her profile. Immediately, her beautiful smile shone brighter on the page than the dimly lit screen could do justice.

You never hated her. She was a confidant and a beloved person in your life. Still is. You were all childhood friends (along with your cousin) with deep ties and connections, although the same could not be said for you and Jihoon currently.

But you hated how it all turned out: she didn’t reciprocate feelings towards Jihoon, but didn’t have the courage to properly reject him either.

Because, who would ever want to let him go?

You did, your mind supplied.

You bit your tongue and wondered if Jihoon found out that she was proposed to by your cousin just over a month ago, the one who she spent her childhood years pining after.

Maybe that’s why he’s not following her anymore.

──────────────────

“Y/N.”

“Shh, Jihoon. I’m concentrating.”

“On what?”

“My wish!”

You felt a tug at your earlobe and your fourteen-year-old self squeaked out, “Why!”

“What’re you wishing for?”

“I can’t tell you! That’s not how wishes work…”

He let out a gruff noise and sat across from you, his bright red shorts and white shirt were definite contrasts against the dirt surrounding your two small bodies.

“I’ll tell you one of my wishes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. If you tell me one of yours.”

“You first.”

“Ladies first.”

“I asked and it’s only polite if you answer.”

He huffed. “You never make any sense.”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes before he cast his gaze down in a boyish way that was just so charming, you too had to look away. “I want the courage to be able to confess my feelings before it’s too late.”

You stared at the river and wondered whether it was deep enough to catch all the tears that wanted to spill themselves from out of you, the image of her coming to the forefront of your mind.

“Firefly?”

“Hm?”

“What about you?”

You forced a smile as your eyes met his.

“I want to be friends forever.”

You knew wishes would never come true if you said them out loud.

──────────────────

“Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing over me like a fucking creep?”

Your trip down memory lane was interrupted by Hyejin’s screeching. You promptly rolled your eyes. “Get up, Princess. I got some water for you.”

“I’m gonna spill it on my face—”

“I brought a straw too.”

“How about a diamond ring? Because if you popped the question, I’d say yes immediately.”

You resisted the urge to smack the smug grin on her face and pushed the water over to her. “You would want a diamond, wouldn’t you?”

“All-naturally mined. No lab made stuff. Spent enough time there myself. Don’t need a ring to remind me of it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind to tell Wheein—”

“Shut up.”

“You’re right. She probably already knows. Being childhood friends and all.”

“Shall I remind you of your unrequited childhood love?”

“‘S not the same,” you responded automatically. She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t even seen him.”

“What? We rewatched their Melon performance literally two days ago, what the fuck you mean you haven’t seen—”

“I meant in person, unnie.”

She clicked her tongue. “And we went to the SEVENTEEN concert seven months ago. We would’ve gotten the fan sign too if you weren’t being so damn annoying about it.”

Your flustered response was enough to make Hyejin laugh at your expense. “I-I just wasn’t sure whether he would’ve even wanted to see me!”

She paused at your words.

You blinked owlishly at her. “What?”

“You used to say that you knew he didn’t want to see you. Now you’re not sure? What happened while I was passed out?”

You gulped.

She set her glass down quietly, a soft smile that seemed misplaced surrounded by her strained features.

“Bumblebee, take a seat.”

You promptly fell to your knees, feeling like explaining the situation would be akin to confessing your sins.

You only hoped she wouldn’t damn you to hell.

──────────────────

“Just slide into his DM’s.”

“Hell no.”

“Don’t talk to your unnie like that.”

You scoffed. “I’m not going to slide into his DM’s like some sad bitch who’s been yearning for over a decade.”

“...but isn’t that exactly what you are?”

You were so close to throwing your mimosa across the table. Too bad the American-inspired restaurant you were at only had half-off drinks during the weekday happy hour. You weren’t going to waste your full-priced flute of champagne and orange juice.

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Bumblebee, I promise I won’t message him. Just give me your phone, I want to see his profile again.”

You took your pinky, made an ‘X’ over your heart with it, pressed the tip against your lips, and held it out for her to do the same.

“God, what are you, 5?”

“Pinky promises cannot be broken. If you break them, you break my trust.”

“You know, for someone who’s studied Psychology, you sure believe in a lot of non-evidence-based practices.”

You emphatically made your point by bringing your pinky closer to her. She sighed and hooked hers around yours. “Satisfied, bumbles?”

“Always, unnie. There’s something beautiful about how the biggest of promises are made with the littlest of fingers.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up at that.

She took your phone and turned it to where you could see her every move. She clicked Jihoon’s profile and went to his first and only post, already liked by your sixteen-year-old self.

She looked as though she were scrutinizing the caption. You expected her to try and formulate an idea of him that was separate from his stage persona.

What you didn’t expect was for her to unlike the post and quickly like it again.

“UNNIE!”

“Oh, bumblebee, I think you would have broken the sound barrier with how loud that was.”

You were too busy having a meltdown to realize the whispering voices around you, giving pointed looks of disdain. Hyejin smiled at everyone and bowed slightly in apology. She tossed your phone at you.

“You said you wouldn’t—”

“I didn’t message him, did I?”

Your mouth went dry while your tears welled up.

Hyejin recognized the consequences of her actions immediately. “Whoa, hey. Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You don’t get to decide if it’s fine or not.”

She flinched back at your harsh tone.

You stared blankly at the phone in front of you, the once red heart, drained white, and filled again with color in the span of a microsecond.

Your watery eyes met Hyejin’s concerned gaze.

You bit your lip. “Can you pull out your phone?”

She froze. “Why...?”

“Because I’m going to eat everything off of this brunch menu and you’re paying for it, so you’re going to have to make a transfer from your savings now.”

“...Yeah, okay. Fair.”

──────────────────

“They’re both cooked dough with butter and syrup.”

You gasped loudly. “Jihoon! Blasphemous!”

He gave you a deadpanned look. “Y/N, you mean to tell me that it’s really that important whether I decide between pancakes or waffles?”

“Waffles are obviously superior! They have little pockets that cradle the syrup, with crisp edges and fluffy insides!”

“There’s literally no one here that’s arguing against you right now.”

“I need you to agree with me!”

“No, you want me to.”

You plopped back down into the booth, shoulders slumped at a lost cause.

“...would it make you happy?”

“What?”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “I asked if it would make you happy. If I agreed that waffles are superior to pancakes.”

You stammered, a blush creeping up your neck at the question. “Uh, no. It was a dumb debate. I was just trying to be annoying. I—”

“It’s okay to let yourself be happy even over the dumb things, firefly.”

You twiddled with your thumbs and bit back the goofiest grin as you heard Jihoon call the waiter over to order your shared waffle platter, asking for, ‘enough syrup to fill each little pocket’.

You never saw Jihoon eat pancakes after that day, always opting for the obviously superior choice. 

―――――――――――――――――

The joy of eating butter and carbs and sugar from that day was not enough to sustain you through the week once you realized you had a paper deadline that was sooner than you remembered.

Your eyes ran over the words again, nearly questioning your sanity when it felt like you spent the last thirty minutes trying to reorganize your paper in a way that was cohesive. You spent so much time unlearning the APA 6th edition format to relearn the APA 7th edition, and then moving back to Korea made you throw all of that out the window. Therefore, your mind was a jumbled mess of DOI numbers and misplaced periods.

This paper was due in less than a week and you still found yourself questioning whether the literature review was comprehensive enough to cover all twenty sources you were required to include. Two pages. A list of twenty sources that took up approximately three-fourths of your second page. A singular paragraph of literature review on peer-reviewed articles studying the risk factors of suicide in Korean adolescents before needing to address implications and future research and potential programs that could address these issues.

“Nothing is real,” you muttered to yourself.

You glanced around the library and noticed a scarcity of other human beings. You groaned to yourself as you realized you hadn’t moved from your seat in over eight hours and the library was due to close in ten minutes.

You wanted to stab yourself in the neck when you remembered you still had the Social Welfare 101 class’s papers to grade. You knew that they needed feedback on their writing and you also knew they saw you as a pushover, so the papers are very likely lackluster, especially since the class was filled with people who were trying to get their Humanities credit for their degree in another field.

“Become a doctor, they said. It will be worth it, they said,” your hushed-tone almost mocking.

One of the other TAs from the Educational Psychology department had offered to take some of the grading from you, knowing that you had several large projects due soon, but you quickly brushed off the offer, saying that you could handle it.

A few stray tears slid down your face as you felt overwhelmed by the entirety of the last four years. You graduated early from Yale and dove straight into a doctoral program you could have easily put off by working for a few years.

You removed your glasses and buried your face into your hands, allowing yourself five minutes of reprieve. Just five. Before you needed to pack up and get back to work.

Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?

──────────────────

[tw: suicide mention]

“Social work is a useless field, Y/N.”

You grit your teeth. “Eomeonim, I—”

“Did you think I wouldn’t see your interview in the school newsletter? Saying you want to go to Seoul National University and study social work? No daughter of mine is going to go into a field that has no chance of finding a job that makes money. You think that your Abeonim and I will be supporting you for the rest of your life? What will the neighbors say, huh?”

“Eomma—”

“No, you do not get to call me that, you ungrateful child. I did not work as hard as I did to put you through the additional tutoring and classes I have for you to just betray me like this.”

Bile rose up in your throat and you choked back the tears threatening to spill.

“Oh, and there she goes, being dramatic again. You don’t think I feel like crying too? You want to become a social worker? You want to help people? How can you do that when you’re so selfish?”

Your nails dug themselves into the meat of your palms, but not hard enough to cause pain, not when your nervous habit of biting them whittled them down to stubs.

“Get out. Come back when your head is clear.”

You moved, but not too hastily so as to signal her to your anxiety, for you were just a prey and she was the apex predator. You kept your gaze downcast and zipped up your designer brand backpack before looping your arms through the pristinely kept straps. Your family had a reputation throughout the town to keep. And you were the heir to it all.

All of the glamour.

All of the charisma.

All of the pressure.

All of the pride.

All of the distrust.

All of the insecurity.

All of the underlying self-hatred.

You shut the door behind you softly and wrapped your arms around you, letting your feet carry you to the one place you knew you could find solace.

Once you arrived, picking a fallen leaf off of your skirt, you knocked weakly at the window pane.

Jihoon glanced up from his desk and made his way to open it for you. “Hey, firefly.”

You quietly slipped through the frame.

“Bad day?”

“Do you ever, just, think about stopping?”

Jihoon blinked once. “Stopping what?”

“Life, I guess.”

He remained silent and he uncrossed his arms so you knew, at least physically, he was open to listening to you. This wasn’t the first time you brought up this subject to him.

“I could just end it all, Jihoon. I could just have it all be over. My parents wouldn’t have to worry anymore. They wouldn’t have to be so disgusted by the fact that they birthed such an ungrateful and selfish child.”

Jihoon breathed deeply through his nose. You knew how much it stirred up his insides whenever you talked about this, but he would reiterate that your safety was always more important than his comfort.

“I should just do it, right? That’ll prove something to them. That’ll show them that they’re not the perfect people everyone makes them out to be. They drove their daughter to this. Oh, but. They might just use it as an excuse to garner more attention. Woe is the perfect family in Busan, they struggle with loss, just like us. But… I could just end it all now. It could all be over, Jihoon. I have that power.”

“You do, firefly. You could end it all.”

Your head shot up so fast you nearly got whiplash. You were expecting soft!Jihoon, not whatever this was. You spluttered, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Are you saying I should just do it then?”

“No,” Jihoon said evenly. “I’m just saying that you do have that power. But you also have the power not to. You have the power to continue on.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Jihoon!”

Jihoon clicked his tongue at your raised tone. “Whoa, hey. You’re the one who always says you have to jump through hoops in order to ‘earn’ love. I’m not the one who taught you that bullshit; go talk to your parents about that.”

“But they’re right!”

“No, they’re not.”

“Shut up! You don’t know me!”

“Y/N, I have spent more time with you than those sorry excuses of parental figures ever have!”

“Those are my parents!”

“Yeah, and they’re assholes!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know! They’re the ones who see me, who know me best. They raised me. They know how disappointing I am. They know how useless I am. They know! They’re the ones who know just how unworthy I am!”

“God! Why do you care so much?! Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?!”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your bottom lip trembled as your voice came out, horribly fragile, a complete contrast to your sharp tone from just moments ago. “I… Because it’s me, Jihoon. I’m either too much for people or I’m never enough. So, I have to do everything perfectly to prove that I’m worthy. I have to be better than anyone else. Because I have to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

You were openly sobbing.

“But… you’re not better than anyone else, firefly.”

You tried to muffle your tears enough to hear Jihoon’s voice over your crying. Your eyes met his and you expected to see pity, but instead, his facial expression remained as neutral, a steadfast look in his eyes amidst all of your wavering.

“Firefly, you suck at Super Smash Bros. You’ve never won a game against me. Not even one. In like, ten whole years. Also, you’re really bad at timing when ramyeon noodles are done. You always overcook them. You cry when you see a fat seagull waddling down the shoreline. You can’t eat spicy food to save your life. You use too many emojis when you type. You can’t even jog 100m without wanting to pass out. You get so angry that you blow up at others and shame them for making you angry, but you hate it when people are mad at you. You refuse to share your food when it’s still warm, but force me to finish it when you’re full. You don’t trust others enough to do their part of the work so you never let anyone else help you. You have a nervous habit of saying stupid random facts when a pretty girl talks to you. You once poured milk before the cereal. You’re full of flaws.”

Your lips were pressed in a thin line, but the tears had ceased approximately halfway through his listing of your traits.

“You are not the best. By any means. Mediocre, even.”

“I’m kind of hurt.”

Jihoon snorted. “You don’t know everything, firefly. You’re not always going to be the smartest in the room. You’re not the best that ever existed. You never will be. But you’re never too much. And you’re always enough. And although your parents and nearly every adult in this town could think otherwise, you will meet people, people like noona, like hyung, like me, who will still care about you even when you’re being a shitty little brat like you are now. People who will still care about you even when you’re not number one.” 

“…You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

──────────────────

“Do you ever think about generational trauma?”

Hyejin gave you a sideways glance. “Do we need to pull out the therapy chair and the rosé for this?”

You swatted the offer away. “I’m serious.”

“What d’you mean then, bumblebee?”

“I just think about my parents and the pressure that was probably put on them from their parents and the parents before. But with each generation, no one decided to try and break the cycle. They just kept taking their hurt and putting it onto the next. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not just my family. It’s prevalent… everywhere. Did you know that South Korea has one of the highest rates of suicide in all of the OECD countries, second only to Lithuania? Common risk factors among adolescents tend to be academic pressure and family issues. So. I know it’s not just me. The numbers don’t lie.”

“Is this related to the paper you were working on earlier?”

You pondered for a moment. “I think researching adolescents and suicidality might’ve triggered some old memories, yeah.”

“Are you…?”

“Okay,” you finished her question. “The thoughts only come when I’m feeling overwhelmed with stuff. And it being our last semester, it’s just… a lot is being demanded of us. Classes, projects, thesis defense. I’m feeling, I dunno, a little helpless.”

“Hmm, I’m remembering some wise words from my undergraduate roommate at Yale~” Hyejin said, in a sing-song voice. “She said that the best way to stop feeling helpless is…?”

You glared.

“The best way to stop feeling helpless iiiiiis…?”

“...to ask for help.”

“Wow, right on the money.”

You decidedly messaged your fellow TA to ask them to help alleviate some of your workload to which they happily agreed.

Which you only gained the courage to ask for after a straight-winning streak in several online matches of Super Smash Ultimate.

You weren’t mediocre.

You just realized he wasn’t either.

──────────────────

Just a few days later, on a rare weekend where you managed to pull away from schoolwork, you found yourself in the attic of the group home you worked on-and-off at for the past four years, sorting through boxes of tattered toys, gathering the ones necessary to put through the washer. You laid down on the floor, the rickety boards beneath you groaning at your weight. You passively wondered whether a cartoon moment would happen and the group home inhabitants would find a you-shaped hole in their ceiling.

You reached into your own backpack and pulled out your own toy of sorts. You threw it up in the air only to let gravity do the work to bring it back into your hold. You had to be careful to not give yourself a black eye like you did a few years back.

“Whoa, you played baseball?”

You glanced at the tattered ball in your hand, the stitching almost undone, the yarn beginning to peek through. The color was no longer a pristine white, but that only proved its history of handling. “Choi Sannie, what about me says ‘athlete’?”

“Hey,” your younger coworker put his arms up in defense, fully climbing into the attic space now. “I know all of the things we have here at the home, and that is definitely not one of them. So that means that’s yours. Or you stole it—” He gasped loudly in delight. “You stole—!”

“No, dumbass.”

He deflated. He knelt down on the floor next to you, inspecting the baseball without taking it in his hands, careful to not overstep your boundaries. You taught him all about consent; Choi San was a wild child, but he knew respect. “May I see?”

You tossed it casually over to him.

“Is this handwriting? I can barely read it.”

“Even if it was brand new, I promise that handwriting would be illegible to the average person anyways.”

“You’re not average though.”

“Of course not.”

“So, what does it say?”

“Gwangan-dong, Busan, August 2.”

“Was it a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“From who?”

“An old friend.”

“Why keep it?”

You hummed softly.

“For the days that feel like I’ve lost.”

──────────────────

Lee Jihoon was a boy who demanded attention. And he always had it. But not because he would go parade and peacock around for the sake of trying to earn it. He naturally caught it, with collected looks and smooth words. Everyone in your town knew him: his ability to work hard and even more, his ability to achieve. He never needed to do anything to garner more attention because all of it was already on him. Even at the perfect attention-craving age of thirteen.

Lee Jihoon would never show off.

You had been to every single one of Jihoon’s baseball games, cheering silently when he made a great call, throwing mental expletives when things were going awry. You knew his mannerisms, his tells. Hell, you even knew the code for when the coach beckoned his players to steal a base.

So, you knew when Jihoon was showing off.

You wanted to gag at the sight of him puffing out his chest while he wore his catcher gear. You often believed him to be beyond this world but the reality quickly slapped you back as you wondered why exactly he was being so obnoxious.

Your unnie turned to you, “It’s almost over, yes?”

You wanted to laugh at the fact it seemed like she aged an additional year for every inning. “Yes, unnie.”

“I don’t understand how there’s no timer.”

“It’s done by the number of outs.”

She nodded, but you knew she didn’t actually take it in, since you repeated that fact three times over the course of the past two hours.

“Our Jihoonie’s doing well, right?”

“Yep, as per usual.”

“I really don’t understand baseball, lovebug.”

You pat her shoulder. “It’s alright. I don’t mind telling you. Although, you might want to ask oppa more about it. He knows more than I do. He messaged me and said he’ll be here in about five minutes so he can take us all out for dinner after.”

She froze. You quirked an eyebrow.

You noticed the redness creeping up her neck.

“Oh my God. Unnie! Do you like my cous—?”

Before she could say anything to defend herself, you felt the bleachers around you shift in tandem and you nearly toppled over until she caught you.

Your eyes found Jihoon, who was holding the ball that sealed their fate: they won. He won.

You saw him and his teammates gather together, his mask coming off to reveal his black hair sticking to his forehead and his ever-so-brilliant smile.

Oh no. You were so smitten.

After several moments of trying to push through the crowd, you finally reach a place where you spot Jihoon animatedly speaking to your unnie, who managed to get ahead of you by several paces.

You immediately froze.

Even from this far away, you could see his eyes clearly. Of course, you could. You were so practiced in searching for them, in times of joy, in mourning, in dancing, in sorrow. In those dark irises, swirled something so raw, your breathing became ragged. You saw the way he looked at her. You knew the look in his eyes.

Because you’d caught glimpses of it in yours in passing mirrors whenever you were with him.

How long did it take you to realize?

Suddenly, you wanted to be anywhere but there.

You rushed backwards, much easier to run away than it was to charge forth. You ran and ran and ran until you reached the back of the bleachers where you crumpled down onto your knees, effectively getting grass stains on your poor clothes.

“Mommy! Mommy! There’s someone crying!”

“Baby, no—let’s go over here.”

“She’s an ugly crier, like you!”

You cursed the fact that children were basically sober drunks and said whatever was on their mind. The fateful “u” word that repeated itself obsessively in your mind.

You thought of your unnie.

Your beautiful, elegant, sweet, soft unnie.

Of course Jihoon would prefer her.

He was pulled into her gravity with no room for resistance. His crescent smiles faced her, never to show his dark side, for she was the earth he orbited: captivating and delicate.

Why would he even care to ever look your way?

You were a given; never a prize to be sought. You were unrefined and blundering in your demeanor. You were on the crux of puberty, an awkward and horrendous time that consisted of your skin deteriorating, hormones running rampant, and just. So. Many. Emotions.

Ugly.

“Whoa, whoa, ladybug, is that you?”

You glanced up, not even bothering to wipe away the dribbling mess that was on your face. Your cousin stared in horror at your tears.

“God, you look horrible.”

A broken sob ripped through your chest and your cousin quickly realized he made a mistake. He scooped you up into his arms and held you as you cried, cried, cried.

If jealousy was the ugliest trait, you must have been downright hideous.

Later, you had your face tucked into your cousin’s chest as he apologized to Jihoon and your unnie, who both reached for you, but your cousin, in his typical knight-in-shining armor fashion, brushed them aside and pulled you closer. He convinced them that you received some off-putting remarks from your parents and didn’t want to talk about it (a regular occurrence), so he would take you back to his place to cheer you up with some Disney movies and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Your unnie offered condolences and a swift pat on your head before she called her dad to come pick her up, all of you waiting until she drove off.

Jihoon spent the time waiting listing off a myriad of your needs (“You have to make sure you have the double Kleenex, okay? The other ones leave weird fuzz on her cheeks. And don’t let her wash the dishes when she’s sad because she doesn’t realize how hot the water actually is and ends up rubbing her skin raw. And make sure you use simple syrup for the lemonade and not just sugar, she hates the crystals.”) while he packed his gear away, preparing to walk back on his own, his home not too far away from the baseball field.

You felt your cousin squirm at the prospect of Jihoon having to carry all of his gear after playing a two-hour game and having no food in his stomach. “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, glanced at you, probably noticing the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly.

“Here, firefly.”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up to realize what it was doing. You saw a small object in the air, falling within your arms reach.

So, you caught it.

Your eyes trailed up to meet his, momentarily forgetting he was the sole cause of your meltdown.

His jaw clenched so hard, you cowered slightly.

“Why are you giving me this?”

You cringed at the sound of your voice, gruff and raspy.

“It’s your win today.”

You blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

Jihoon sighed and you wondered if he just considered you a petulant child.

“Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands.

You sniffled, the corner of your mouth upturned.

Before you could say anything, Jihoon immediately turned on his heel and walked away.

You looked up and caught your cousin staring at Jihoon’s retreating form with a bemused look. 

“Alright, ladybug, let’s get you home. Your parents are probably preparing dinner right now.”

“You promised Disney and lemonade.”

Your cousin sighed dramatically. “I guess I did,” he ruffled your hair to which you let out a prolonged, annoyed groan. “Which movie?”

You pondered for a moment. “Hercules?”

You thought of Jihoon and his reputation throughout your town: attention-grabbing, diligent, admirable, heroic.

But most of all, kind.

“You got good taste, ladybug.”

──────────────────

“Does today feel like a lost day?”

You resisted the urge to mess with the singular faded green streak running through San’s hair, a test subject from when Hyejin wanted you to dye her hair, but you didn’t want to try it out on yourself nor buy a synthetic wig. A rebellious eighteen-year-old was the best option at the time. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Then why do you have this?” He inquired again.

“Because I can do what I want, San. It’s my win.”

He pulled a face of indignation at your rare (at least to him) display of childishness. Your phone pinged on top of your thigh, alerting you to its presence.

[12:42] wzljh__ liked your post

You bit back a grin, knowing San would question you endlessly if he caught it. So you tucked it away, for a later time, where you could be alone and smile as widely as you wanted to. He was getting more and more bold. Hyejin’s action, you knew, was what spurred him on. You wanted to laugh in disbelief.

Lee Jihoon was a man who demanded attention.

And he always had it.

──────────────────

“No, no. Noona, you promised.”

“I did no such thing.”

Wooyoung scoffed at your words. He pulled out his phone and his nimble thumbs quickly found what he was looking for, signified by a soft ‘ah-hah!’. “You said you would help me try and secure BTS tickets. You’re the only other person that I know that has the ARMY Membership.”

You glanced at his screen and saw your drunk state and you resisted the urge to keel over at the sight. You heard your slurred words promising the very thing Wooyoung was asking of you now. “I wasn’t sober enough to realize what I was saying. Also, what kind of person films their drunk friend and coerces them into promising to get BTS tickets?”

“I never said I was a good person, noona.”

“Ask San or Seonghwa.”

“They don’t have the ARMY Membership,” Wooyoung repeated, emphasizing the last two words. “I’m out here trying to secure the front section. It’s close enough to the stage where I can see Jimin-hyung’s sweat without the screen.”

You grimaced. “Weird ass fanboy.”

“You cannot deny that he is a beautiful man,” Wooyoung said pointedly. “Although, I assume your type is like 15cm shorter and a muscle bunny.”

“He’s only 11cm shorter, sir.”

“Okay, okay. Keep defending your boyfriend.”

You spluttered, instinctively responding with what you said for most of your middle and high school days to those around you. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Wooyoung gave you a ‘duh’ look. “No shit. You’ve never even met him because you refuse to get the fan signing tickets because you’re a weak ass coward.”

Well. He was definitely right about one of those things. You often forget that you’ve kept your history with him private from most except Hyejin.

(And Wheein.)

(Because Hyejin told her.)

(Luckily, Wheein is a lot more considerate than her boisterous and loose-lipped counterpart.)

“Wooyoungie, you’re really not making me want to help you here, you know.”

“Noona, please.”

He looked at you with his wide brown eyes and jutted out his bottom lip. The thick black frames on the bridge of his nose gave off the impression of innocence, something you would never again associate with the young man in front of you.

His eyes lit up once he visibly saw your determination crumble.

You bit your lip. “You’re paying for this pizza. And we get pineapples on it.”

“I love you~ You are a goddess I am unworthy of even perceiving~ I worship the the ground you walk on, O sweet and kind deity~”

Your mouth twitched. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

Wooyoung looked at you, a serious look in his eye, took your hand and squeezed it. He gave you a smile that almost melted away your disdain. “Thank you, noona.”

“Men like you give women trust issues.”

“Yeah, probably.”

──────────────────

“I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you until now, in my heart, it’s only you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you. Thank you, thank you. That’s all I can say. Even all the waiting, all the longing. And all of our memories. Thank you, thank you.”

You half-hoped they would perform this song, half-hoped they wouldn’t. It rendered your heart weak, almost wringing it through with the lyrics and melody, the implication. There was a deep yearning within you that wished these lyrics could have been for you, once upon a time.

You hid yourself with a black face mask and wore a baseball cap. Hyejin told you that you were making yourself look even more conspicuous by wearing such garb, but you couldn’t risk being noticed. You wanted to see him, but in a way that didn’t require vulnerability. Plus, your tears were easier to hide.

Hyejin held your hand, her fingers intertwined with yours, the two of you uncharacteristically calm and still unlike the other CARATs around you, all of whom were cheering and swinging their lightsticks in tandem.

She gave your hand a tight squeeze.

You thought back to what was seemingly a mundane day, going on one of your grocery shopping trips at a Trader Joe’s while still living in New Haven, Connecticut.

The days leading up to your shopping trip, you were a mess of a human being, weighed down by the amount of work you still had left to complete, hardly able to be present in your own life, instead simply watching it go by. Hyejin took over your chores for the week, bought you sweets, stayed up with you even if she finished her own work, made sure to send kind text messages randomly throughout the day, and was all around the best supporter you could have asked for.

You kept apologizing to her for not being able to reciprocate, the only words that your mouth had the energy to form were, “I’m sorry.” And she would, each time, just pat your head with a soft chuckle and say, “You don’t have to keep saying that, you know. You don’t have to say that you’re sorry.”

But you weren’t sure of what you could say instead, so you said nothing at all.

Your grocery trip was made to be more of an adventurous outing that matched the energy that you were able to procure, as cooping yourself indoors only intensified your feelings of stress. However, you were on the mend from the disastrous week, as you finished up your work the day prior to your little trip to the grocery store.

(You couldn’t help but think your ability to even leave your apartment was because of Hyejin.)

After gathering all of the ingredients to cook carbonara (with extra pancetta!) and loading them up in your car, Hyejin offered to return the shopping cart to its designated location.

You saw her from afar and suddenly something overwhelmed you.

You knew what to say instead of: ‘I’m sorry.’

“Bumblebee?”

“Thank you.”

Hyejin gave you a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? Of course.”

“No, I mean...”

You paused. What did you mean?

Did you even have a right to express yourself? That’s all you seemed to do during the week and it was almost embarrassing trying to say something now. Like, this wasn’t the right time and place. The butter was melting in the car.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young.

She gave a pointed look and said, “Uh. Alright.”

But something tugged at you. A gentle reminder from a gentle person with a seemingly rough personality.

These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you.

If he could do it, so could you.

Before she could get into the passenger seat, you called out again, “Actually!”

She glanced your way, still visibly confused.

You took a deep breath. “Thank you for returning the cart. But, ah, more than that. Thank you for coming to the store with me. Thank you for spending time with me. Thank you for consoling me. Thank you for living with me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for staying by my side. Thank you for loving me.”

You couldn’t hold back your tears, so you didn’t. Your beloved friend did not fare much better.

She was in a state of what seemed like hysteria, laughing with tears streaming down her face. “What the heck, dude? What’s the matter with you? God, I love you so much.”

She took you into her arms and you both cried in the middle of a Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Your heart was filled with gratitude as the thirteen boys on stage interlocked their fingers in a pinky promise to love their fans. You mirrored the action as you took Hyejin’s pinky and interlocked yours with hers. She glanced at you and you gave a smile from behind your mask, trusting she knows what you mean. Trusting that she hears the promise you are making to her, to yourself.

Promising to always be thankful.

Promising to always love.

But if she could not hear the wordless promise echoing in your chest, you knew you would repeat it aloud to her for as long as she needed. To whoever needed it.

Because although those words may be typical, they were still worth saying.

That is a lesson an old friend taught you.

An old friend whose smile now shone as bright as the stage lights that lingered on his form.

──────────────────

Three weeks later, you were up to your neck in deadlines. You were demanded at every possible place you frequented. In the research labs, in the recruitment office, in your collective TAs room, in the group home you volunteered for.

Hypothetically, there should have been no room in your mind for Lee Jihoon.

Too bad you saw him everywhere.

Not just explicitly, like the way his idol group overtook the internet with selfies here and tweets there and ridiculous fan edit videos everywhere.

But rather, in the crevices of Seoul, in the freshly cooked rice found at your favorite family restaurant, ready to serve piping hot meals with heaping portions of a mother’s love, in the off-key melodies sung unapologetically by a circle of children in the middle of the neighborhood park, not caring who’s there to witness, performing for any and all, in the rhythm of the city thrumming beneath your soles and at your fingertips, ready to sweep you off your feet if you gave it the chance.

You saw him everywhere.

That included your notification center.

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post—

Your vision blurred.

Was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

A comment? A comment? You were plenty satisfied with the likes on your post, but a comment meant direct interaction, not mindless scrolling and double tapping.

The ringing in your ears was prevalent and you knew for the sake of your body and soul, you needed to shut it all away.

You pushed aside the thoughts, compartmentalized like they taught you during your clinical therapy program, and shoved your phone far into the depths of your unorganized bag.

You breathed in.

You breathed out.

You had work to do.

──────────────────

“Hey, so, it’s noona’s birthday on Sunday—” 

“I know, Jihoon, you haven’t shut up about it for the past two weeks.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. But I’ve spent so long trying to find a gift for her and I still can’t find anything. Can’t you, just like, come with me to the market for the day? I’ve never spent so much time and effort trying to find a damn gift for a birthday before. I’ll buy us dinner and we can stop by that dessert stand with the black sesame soft serve.”

“I told you. I have college prep exams I have to worry about. You want to woo her? You can. Easily. Lee Jihoon, anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.”

He breathed out a long sigh. “...thanks, firefly.”

You gave a stiff nod before walking away, the singular cardstock invitation (since you only made one for him because he teased you endlessly for your homemade invitations in the fifth-grade and you committed yourself to spite him every year from then on) you scrawled a date on in two week’s time weighing heavily in your bag. You bit your bottom lip to try and prevent the tears from slipping.

Guess your birthday wasn’t worth putting time and effort in.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found a small package in your first-year high school locker on that fateful day, in two week’s time.

Inside a poorly wrapped box, you found a card and a keychain of three tiny medals: simply drawn hands interlocking at their pinkies, the infinity symbol, and a crescent moon.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you opened the card envelope slowly, afraid your shaking hands would accidentally tear apart the paper. The card was homemade and purposefully horrendous (he claims; although, knowing his crafting skills, you weren’t so sure) with his haphazard, yet endearing scrawl.

You read the words once. Twice. Three times.

Moved them away from your eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall and smudge them.

“I saw these charms two months ago and immediately thought of you.

You said anyone would be lucky to be loved by me.

Guess you’re a pretty lucky person.

Happy birthday, firefly.

- Jihoonie

P.S. I have a sun on mine, if you end up wanting to switch.”

And so you skipped the first ten minutes of your last class to fold in on yourself in one of the second-floor girls’ bathroom stalls. You muffled your cries against your sleeve because it’s just so utterly him that you couldn’t even think straight.

When he finds you after school, eyes puffed and disheveled, you half-expected him to comfort you, because it was your birthday and, to most people, that warranted special treatment.

Instead he laughed loudly at your tattered self, pinched your reddened nose with a grip you could say bordered on assault, and said, “Come on, let’s go get some cake and ice cream. I’ll pay.”

You glared at him. “You hate cake and ice cream.”

He merely grinned at you. “Not today, I won’t. You really are lucky to have me, aren’t you?”

Even with the way he teased you relentlessly for all seven blocks to the place you frequented when your pockets were lined with allowance, the dessert shop with the fresh cream green tea cake topped with fruit you knew Jihoon was gonna take when you weren’t looking, even with his eyes filled with mischief and cheeks filled with stolen strawberries, you couldn’t help but agree.

──────────────────

“He’s been pretty bold lately.”

You cocked your head to the side as you pulled your lunchbox out onto the cafeteria table. You spread the items out in an orderly fashion and Hyejin nearly sneered at the display, but you ignored her. “Hrm? What d’you mean?”

“I mean, he’s been liking more and more of your posts. He also commented today. Isn’t that bold? Considering you haven’t spoken in years? What happens if he’s just, I dunno, playing with you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Is it dumb to say that it’s just a gut instinct that everything is okay?”

“Again, what is the point of your higher education? Gut instincts aren’t exactly evidence-based.”

You unwrapped your sandwich and your eye twitched at the sauce that dribbled down. Damn. You could’ve sworn you had the right ratio this time. 

You took a bite, your tongue slipping out to catch the excess sauce. You chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the bread before you spoke.

“I dunno how to explain it, unnie. I know all of my observations have been just… through likely scripted scenes and concerts. And I know it’s dumb to think that he’s still the same kid from way back when, but even seeing him interacting with his members… It just seems like he’s happy. Not just the superficial kinda happy, but the everlasting contentment and joy kinda happy. So. I don’t think he’s going to ruin that by trying to dredge up stuff that could ruin it. Or plot revenge. I just... don’t sense any ill intentions. And I never have, even when all that shit happened.”

“Hm… I honestly don’t know the guy, but it does just sound like he made one choice in an unfortunate circumstance. Big decision in the midst of big emotions,” Hyejin murmured.

“So did I,” you said pointedly.

She smirked at that. “Yeah, but you ended up with me, so I’m okay with your choice. But, also maybe, I just trust your judgment a little too much. But, if you consider him as wonderful as you say he is, then. I believe you. Plus, I feel like his lyrics and videos that I’ve seen are proof that he’s not a complete piece of shit.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for thinking he’s not the scum of the earth.”

“Yes. Just a rung above that. If I ever meet him, I’ll definitely punch him. For your honor.”

“Hah. Thanks, unnie. I’m sure that your stick arms will do a lot of damage.”

“Of course.”

The two of you laughed.

Hyejin hummed. “Do you ever blame him?”

“For what?”

“Leaving before you.”

You raised a brow as you set your sandwich down to bring your attention to your apple slices, peeled in a way to make them look like bunny rabbits. After dunking it into some peanut butter, you decapitated its head with your teeth. “Blame is a funny thing.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“I mean, think about it, unnie,” you began. “Do I blame him for leaving when I was the one who decided to leave first?”

Hyejin clicked her tongue. “But he left without even saying ‘goodbye’ or even warning you.”

“Mm, yeah. But... I mean, do I blame him for leaving before me when he could blame me for deciding to leave first? Or do I keep going and blame him for making me fall in love with him or could he turn that around and blame me for having feelings in the first place? Do I go further and blame him for defending me from bullies in first grade or does he blame me by trying to become friends by giving him a seashell? Do I blame him for being born or does he blame me for the same thing? Blame is an endless cycle and trying to pin the entire thing on one person or one event is hard. At least, in this instance, you know? There wasn’t a clear cut perpetrator and victim here.”

Hyejin picked at her nails. “You really have a different kinda brain, don’t you, bumblebee?”

You chuckled. “It’s gotten me this far.”

A silence fell over the two of you as you stared at your bunny apple slices, eventually fed up at the odd number of them and choosing to sacrifice one to your stomach for the sake of your peace of mind. 

After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I used to be real angry with him.”

“Yeah, you told me you used to be a fiery little thing. Plus, I heard you blow up at that student athlete who was dishing out homophobic slurs near the Student Center. When you’re angry, whew. I wouldn’t ever wanna be caught in the crossfire.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, he would often be. I don’t think you can grow up with and know a person for, like, sixteen years and not ever be angry with them. Especially when that person is a prepubescent boy who knows all the little things that grinds your gears.”

“God forbid having feelings for men.”

“Women aren’t that much better,” you reminded Hyejin. She paused for a moment before agreeing to your sentiment. You knew too many of the silly arguments her and Wheein have had over the past two decades.

“Honestly, though. I think he’s one of the only people I ever felt safe enough to even be angry around. So, he usually got the brunt of it all. Honestly, he should’ve left me faster. I was a mess to deal with at the time.”

Hyejin pulled a face at your self-pity. You merely offered a small smile and she rolled her eyes. “So, you were still angry at him when we were at Yale?”

You swallowed another apple bunny. “Absolutely. Remember New York?”

“Which time?”

You snorted. “Specifically the one where we went during the Fourth of July. Where I had hook-ups after hook-ups and had to get a pregnancy test and an STD screening. Where we went bar-hopping literally every night because I wanted to drown in my sorrows. The one that you got on that stranger’s shoulders to shoot off an illegal firecracker.”

“The trip where you got so drunk, you screamed at a man that turned out to be a statue.”

“Hey, in my defense, he looked like an asshole.”

“I’m sure many people would agree with you that Christopher Columbus is indeed an asshole.”

You both laughed.

Your voice lowered to barely above a whisper, Hyejin physically needing to lean in to catch your words.

“I… was angry that he made promises he couldn’t keep. I was angry that he decided to walk out of my life without asking to even try. I was angry that he didn’t even care to ask why I was wanting to leave. That he didn’t care enough to want to know what I was doing. I was angry that he dropped me so fast. I was angry that he moved to Seoul as a last ‘screw you’ because he didn’t want to try and talk it out. I was angry that he was angry. But above all, I was angry at myself that it took me so long to let myself even feel the anger because I blamed myself for everything.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“At the time, I had a sixteen-year-old’s anger and heartbreak and a twenty-one-year-old’s body and ID. So, that anger manifested itself into drunken nights of hedonistic debauchery and cursing out loud for the first time ever, right at a statue of a colonizing murderer.”

You thought she would laugh at your phrasing, but instead, she merely took you in. You wanted to shrink back at her scrutinizing gaze.

“Does it still bother you?”

“...No, not really,” you admitted. “I just woke up one day and realized that I missed him so much more than I was angry at him. At me. Eventually the anger just kind of… faded. I mean, he was hurt when I left. And if he felt like I was leaving him, then it makes sense he would try to do the same in some kind of twisted adolescent retribution. I’m not saying that either of us deserved that kind of treatment, but I mean, we were sixteen and dumb. As a former sixteen-year-old, any kind of change felt like the world ending.”

“As a former sixteen-year-old, I would have to agree,” Hyejin nodded. “Do you ever regret it?”

You shoved another sliced apple into the peanut butter. This time, not picking it up. You stared down at it as you tried to formulate your thoughts. You replied softly after some time, “No.”

“Nothing?”

Your mind trailed back to the time you spent chasing your dream of studying abroad, establishing your place in the world without depending every little decision on him, running after dream after dream and fulfilling them through your own power and accord.

And you thought, as beautiful as the experiences were, you wished you could share the stories with him. He was always your best audience member, applauding your every word and exaggerated action. Sometimes laughing and jeering and heckling, but always, always, always attentive.

You chased your dreams. You always have.

All except one.

But it was okay.

Because he gave you so much more in those fleeting years than the world could ever have supplied in millions.

“No, nothing.”

────────────────── “Do you still love him?”

Hyejin watched you over the years. You grew and healed, evolved from a bumbling adolescent mess, bright-eyed and terrified, into a full-fledged woman who learned that all most had to offer was a quick fix and prolonged heartbreak. Someone who decided to be kind because she knew first-hand that the world was not. A woman who wanted to be a love letter from the universe. Someone so strong, yet so fragile to the workings of the world because you always allowed your heart to be vulnerable.

She never knew anyone who loved for the sake of loving.

Someone whose living was loving.

Not until she met you.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but it slowly curved at the ends. “I think I always will.”

Hyejin’s heart felt constricted in her chest; she wanted to scream at you to let go and to move on. Tell you that he wasn’t worth any of the heartbreak and pain and self-doubt.

But she knew. She knew looking into your eyes, that you loved him with a love that transcended the flimsy, insecurity-driven kind portrayed in romantic comedies or Korean television dramas.

Because although she saw your eyes rimmed with unbrittled heartbreak, she also saw the gratitude that overflowed from your irises.

Part of her still wanted to berate and chastise you and tell you to just move on.

But she remembered being on the receiving end of that. How her friends reminded her that to be in an unrequited love was never worth it and that there were plenty of fish in the sea and that she needed to move on because it was just sad.

She remembered how empty that left her, wanting to fill the cracks in her heart with her beloved, because that was always what Wheein would be to her, just as Jihoon would be to you. Hyejin had the privilege to call Wheein at any time, to hear her voice lull her fears and anxieties into soft understandings and warmth, warmth, warmth.

Everyone told her to walk away from all of that.

Not you.

You were the first one to sit with her, hold her hand, smile and remind her what she already knew, a resounding truth in the depths of her soul.

And so, she sat down with you on the edge of your bed, grabbed your hand, smiled, and reminded you of one of your favorite quotes: “What a privilege it is to love.”

A tear slipped past as you beamed. “And to be loved in return.”

“Even for a moment.”

“Even if it is not how we want.”

“Because, still, it is love.”

“And it is the one thing we will never be without.”

──────────────────

“Two more months,” Wheein muttered before quickly downing her soju shot, not waiting for anyone else at the table. “Two months. And we’re done. No more needing to prepare for a thesis defense. No more needing to sit next to a centrifuge for ten hours at a time. No more needing to read bullshit and selfish opinions on public forums. No more needing to sit next to that weird dude who always smells like he has an open wound that’s infected—”

“Wheein, sweetie, that’s too graphic,” Yongsun responded, bringing her choice of a virgin cocktail up to her lips.

Wheein merely took a swig of the beer next to her.

Byul-yi shot her a glare. “That’s mine.”

“She needs it more, unnie, trust me,” you replied on her behalf. Byul-yi gave you a warning glance that wordlessly said you defended Wheein too much, especially as someone who was younger. “To be honest, I think Hyejin-unnie and I need to catch up to where Wheein-unnie is.”

“No, you need to pace yourself carefully especially with soju because you end up drinking too fast and way past your limit before you even realize.”

“Yongsun-unnie, I know we dated when I was a young and unassuming first-year doctoral student who didn’t understand how to handle her alcohol, but that was the past. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“Hyejin told me you threw up just a few weeks ago.”

“Goddamnit, Hyejin-ssi,” you hissed in mock anger.

She snorted, seeing through your ruse. “Wouldn’t have mattered if she heard from me. Byul-unnie was the one who was holding your hair at the bar, so.”

“Is this how I’m repaid by setting you two up together? The constant risk of potentially being exposed by one or the other? The betrayal. When I introduced the two of you, mere weeks after Yongsun and I broke up, and you two were blatantly flirting in front of me–”

“We were not flirting,” they chimed in unison.

The rest of the table rolled their eyes.

Wheein huffed and whined into her arms, voice muffled against the table. “Y/N, you gotta find me someone.”

“You’ll see them if you just open your eyes. I’m sure of it. They’re right there. Just look in front of you, unnie.”

Hyejin pinched your thigh but you were used to her physical torture.

Wheein groaned loudly, sitting up, but still covering her eyes with her hands. Byul-yi nodded in apology to Hyejin who merely bit her lip.

Yongsun dissipated the tension for Hyejin.

By directing it towards you.

“Y/N, I saw that you posted on Instagram yesterday. The same post from the group home you volunteer for. You were asking for the support of the community, right? And just today, I saw there were a ton of comments on their public page.”

A lump lodged itself into your throat and you stared at her, lips parting but not making any sound.

She cocked her head to the side.

Hyejin rubbed your thigh soothingly with her hand. “Bumblebee didn’t realize that they were going to get that many comments on that post. Plus, uh, I think it was shared by that one singer? Bamsu?”

“Bumzu,” you corrected weakly. Jihoon’s partner-in-crime, or rather, music production.

“Yeah, uh. Him. I guess someone who knows the group home page somehow managed to get it circulated to where he saw it, and… yeah.”

Several other research fellows messaged you privately saying how exciting it was to get the attention your project needed. Your group organizer was saying that tens of calls were coming in at a time, asking how to best provide funding or resources.

You resisted the urge to spiral into oblivion because you knew only one (1) person who would be able to do such a thing.

Bumzu had transitioned from performer to writer/producer and usually had a hand in charity work, at least, over the past couple of years, according to a quick run through his Instagram feed. He wasn’t under the scrutinizing eye of Dispatch, at least, not as much as a certain thirteen-member idol group. His interest in this program didn’t warrant sasaeng fans who would try to track down the people who made the post.

It was the perfect cover up.

It’s not as though Bumzu did anything over the top. He simply reposted the group home’s post on his story, only available for 24 hours, but even then, that was enough time to garner attention.

The group home leader called and cried to you saying that God had really blessed you all.

You wondered whether you should tell her that you didn’t think God was 164cm with moonlit eyes that haunted you in your sleep.

──────────────────

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post: “this is some really cool stuff. do u mind if i share this?”

[19:22] You replied to wzljh__’s comment: “👍🏼 go ahead”

──────────────────

“Noona~”

“Choi Sannie~”

“I don’t appreciate the mockery~”

“Then get your ass to work~”

San snickered before undoing your haphazardly done ponytail and threading his fingers through your badly tangled hair. “You need to calm down. You have a meeting soon and you look like an absolute mess. So, I’ll at least braid your hair for you, mmkay, noona?”

“San, if you want to reduce my stress, I would appreciate it if you could go and run through the program schedule and let me know what doesn’t work—”

He tugged on your hair and you yelped.

“Noona.”

You leaned back in your chair to see him staring down at you. You grimaced at the fact that, even from this angle, his jawline was inhumanely sharp.

“No one is expecting you to run everything. We have group organizers for a reason. You’re just here to volunteer.”

“But I want to help. I’m responsible for getting the word out there. And I want to be able to make a difference for those in group homes—”

“You did. You helped me. Now I’m in a local college. Working as a barista. Volunteering in the same home I met you in.” Before you could cut him off, San continued, “You can take a break, noona. I’ve never seen you this stressed out before. And I’ve seen you literally down an entire six-pack of banana milk after eating two chocolate croissants.”

“They’re called pain au chocolat. They have to be in the shape of crescents to be called croissants.”

“No one gives a flying shit, noona.”

You gaped at him. “San! Who taught you to speak like that?”

“You did.”

You grumbled to yourself before reaching back for your Apple Pencil. San snuck his hand over your shoulder to pluck it out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Jinwoo wants you to sing him to sleep.”

Your heart ached as you stared at the screen in front of you. There was too much work to do and you couldn’t afford—

“Are you really cost-benefiting the effects of whether you sing a child to sleep right now?”

“...”

“God, what a professional. Where’s the noona that would sneak kids out to go catch dragonflies and then eat bungeo-ppang while washing it down with banana milk?”

“Are all of your memories of me associated with banana milk?”

“I remember what I remember, noona.”

“Why don’t you sing to Jinwoo?”

“Because he’s asking for that song that you sing; the one that only you know.”

You froze.

For some reason, Jinwoo, at the ripe age of eight months, established quite clearly what he liked and disliked, with the latter list nearly double the length of the first.

Every song you sang to him had its expiration date before he would take a metaphorical red Sharpie and cross it off of his likes list.

All except one.

You cursed yourself for singing it so long ago, caught up in exhaustion that you just wanted to quell the baby’s cries as soon as possible.

And so you procured a song that was gathering dust from being long ignored in the recesses of your mind.

You locked your iPad, gathered your stuff together to put away in your bag, slung it over your shoulder and made it up the stairway to where you knew Jinwoo would be.

You found him nestled in several blankets on the floor in the room meant for three-to-six year olds, convinced that the ground would be able to keep him steady unlike the volatile day-to-day he was thrown into since birth. Most of the other kids were out at the local school, but Jinwoo had a lower constitution than them, so would often stay at home. The home did its best to ensure that his schedule was tied with the other kids, including the midday nap.

His chocolate eyes looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched for you to envelope him in your embrace. You couldn’t help but smile down at him and scooped him up in one fell swoop. He giggled as you spun the two of you around the room.

You swaddled him as best you could, a three-year-old much larger than the eight-month-old you once knew him to be.

His hand pressed itself against your cheek and you nuzzled your face against its warmth.

“Ready to sleep, Jinwoo?”

“Will you sing to me? The forever song?”

“Yes. Of course.”

And so you did.

You sang to him a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

May 26th.

You thought that date would forever ingrain itself as the day that he forcibly came back into your life by taking you and the rest of the world by storm alongside his group, singing of an awkward and clumsy adoration paired with a point choreography that was, well, pointing.

(At the time, you wondered whether she heard the song, the one you were sure it was written about. You never asked.)

But here you were, six years after his debut into the world as an idol, dressed in your regalia of indigo and black, full bell sleeves, velvet paneling, and a weird puffy hat to top it all off, debuting into the world as a Social Welfare PhD grad.

You were a whole ass doctor.

“WE’RE FUCKING DONE, BITCHES.”

“God, Wheein, can you calm down? We gave you that key for emergencies.”

“It’s an emergency that I don’t have a bottle of soju in my hand right now.”

Byul-yi patted Yongsun in hopes of appeasing her anger. “Remember when you finished your MBA and how that felt?”

Yongsun blinked once before pushing herself off of the couch. “Alright, so how many bottles am I pulling out?”

“Wait! Wait! Wait! We need a picture!” Hyejin chastised her childhood friend for taking off after Yongsun. “Bumblebee, come here. Wheein, you too!”

“Whose phone?” Byul-yi asked.

You all chorused your phone, handing her the latest model of iPhone. She wiggled her brows at you. “Looking for a sugar baby, mama?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m not paying installments on that sleek piece of overpriced metal and glass.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a broke grad. Alright, alright. Okay, ladies. Now let’s get in formation. Wheein, brush your hair out of your face, you look like a mad scientist. Y/N, stop furrowing your brows like you’re reading those mean comments online. Hyejin, stand up straighter, you’re slouching—probably from bending over all the time—”

“Unnie!”

“Over your centrifuge, okay? Chill. Alright. 1, 2… 2 and a half.”

“How old are you? 50?”

“Alright, for that, you just got a burst. Y/N, I hope you find the ugliest gem in that to post.”

You and Wheein laugh at Hyejin who is now putting on her face of Disapproval and you imagine that Byul-yi is just now taking an endless amount of candids. You reach for the phone, a toothy grin still spread across your lips.

“Oop! Damn, this camera is nice. Don’t get too drunk otherwise you might accidentally drop it into my purse.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed at your phone. You swiped through the camera roll, finding too many of your face, especially when reaching for the camera, thanks to Byul-yi’s trigger happy thumb. However, you looked genuinely happy, so you couldn’t be too mad.

Maybe that’s because you were done slaving over papers and deadlines, you mused.

You showed Wheein and Hyejin the photos as well, refusing to delete the ones where Hyejin is pulling her signature face. You smiled down at your screen before pulling up Instagram to post a photo of all three of you (looking like baddies and not like the unhinged beings you usually are) on your story.

You figured you would post the professional photos you had done by Myungsoo at a later date.

You typed up a caption:

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

You locked your phone and tucked it away, ready to simply celebrate with your beloved group of girls.

That is, until two hours passed, which included a passed out Wheein cuddling into Hyejin on the couch and a drunk Yongsun and tipsy Byul-yi retiring to their own room and you sneaking into their second bedroom. You finally saw several responses to your story, mostly clapping and fire reactions and messages of well-wishes and pride. There was one handle that immediately caught your attention and you couldn’t help but think you were predictable in where your eyes always go.

[22:06] wzljh__ replied to your story: i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: sorry that was dumb of me to assume

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

[22:15] wzljh__: sorry that was stupid

[22:15] wzljh__: ignore me

[22:15] wzljh__: congrats y/n

You checked the time stamps to see that the first three messages came in rapid succession. While the last three came less than ten minutes later, without the “replied to your story,” meaning he actively searched for your conversation in his DMs to send a message.

You wondered whether it was okay to respond. He initiated it, so you figured this was consensual on his end. But… would you be okay?

Lee Jihoon was the one you believed would always know how to crack the code to tear down the walls of your heart. The one for whom your heart would invite in, with offerings of warm tea and resounding laughter and requests to make himself at home in your messy, but safe, space. You were always so utterly bare in front of him that it was almost nauseating with how much trust you put into his hands.

Did he deserve that same trust after what transpired between the two of you?

Regret lives in the past. Anxiety lives in the future. But you lived in the present.

Present (tipsy) you said, “cute human messaged must respond”

You opened up the conversation. 

[23:16] You: alexa, play congratulations by day6.

[23:16] You: happy anniversary to svt!! 🥳 

[23:16] You: hope you’re having fun with the members!!

Immediately, Seen popped up on your screen.

Your breathing hitched as you saw those damned three dots. You really should ask your old Biology tutor why your chest felt as tight as it did. Or maybe Wheein would know the science as to why it felt like your brain was firing a million and one things but was also completely shut down.

[23:16] wzljh__: oh

[23:16] wzljh__: oh wow

[23:17] wzljh__: i didnt think u would know that

[23:17] wzljh__: thanks you

[23:17] wzljh__: thank uou*

[23:17] wzljh__: you* wow im genius

You giggled softly to yourself.

──────────────────

“You look like an oversized peach, but, like, not a nice one. One that fell off the kitchen counter and now has bruising forming.”

“You’re fucking rude.”

You tutted. “Jihoon, language.”

“One of these days you’re gonna drop the fuck word too.”

“Mmm. Nope.”

He grabbed at your cheek and pinched it softly. You made a dramatic display of faked annoyance. “You will. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be the first one to hear it, alright? I’m gonna hear the fuck word from the kid that everyone else is foolish enough to believe is entirely wholesome.”

“Um? But I am? So very wholesome?”

He barked out a laugh. “Sure. You got most people convinced, but I know you. You’re too fiery for your own good.”

“Oh, so you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Of course,” he replied in English, his words laced with his thick Korean accent. “I’m genius.”

You giggled before you corrected him. “‘I’m a genius.’”

He grinned. “We both can be.”

──────────────────

[23:18] You: the other caratdeul are posting it all over twitter so it’s trending, of course i would know that 😤 i’m in touch with the insiders nowadays

[23:19] wzljh__: the other caratdeul

[23:19] wzljh__: ??

You cursed silently. Did alcohol loosen your thumbs too? Is that possible? Would you remember these questions to ask Wheein later?

[23:19] You: uh, i’m also a carat? duh? have you /seen/ jeonghan-oppa’s visuals? 😍

[23:20] wzljh__: unfortunately every day

You laughed out loud at that.

You saw the three dots come. And then disappear.

You couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that hit, but you figured that he had his own celebration to do.

That is, until a video was sent from his end five minutes later.

You swore Lee Jihoon was going to be the cause of your death one of these days. 

You clicked on the video.

“Annyeong, Y/N-ah!!”

You balked at Yoon Jeonghan’s face grinning at the camera. What the frick.

“Jihoon told me that you graduated with your PhD today! Congratulations! Hanniehae!!”

Your heart burst at the sight.

God, Jeonghan was so cute. You so desperately wanted to be his friend when you first discovered SEVENTEEN, almost more jealous of Jihoon for being surrounded by twelve other fantastic human beings rather than the other way around.

[23:28] You: omg i’m gonna cry

[23:28] You: !!!! how!!!! is he!!!! so CUTE!!!!!

[23:28] You: this is the best grad gift ever

[23:29] You: my years of indentured servitude to SNU was worth it to just bear witness to that 🥰 i can die happily now; thank you yoon jeonghan for existing

[23:30] wzljh__: um excuse me who else

[23:30] You: and to lee jihoon for the provision and distribution of content: i shall remember your services

[23:30] wzljh__: i now owe ur “jeonghan-oppa” a new lego set just for that

[23:31] You: he’s cute when he goes on vlive and builds it so just think of it as an additional gift to me, ok

[23:31] wzljh__: no.

[23:31] You: 🙄 rude

[23:31] wzljh__: u owe me too now especially since u said i gave the best grad gift ever

[23:31] You: i’m!!!!!

[23:32] You: ok so technically no one else has given me a gift yet so you were just better than nothing 🤧

[23:32] wzljh__: yes thats always my goal. to be better than nothing

[23:33] You: 😂😂😂

[23:33] You: wait!!

[23:33] You: you can’t distract me!!

[23:33] You: gifts are exchanged for the sake of selflessness and glad tidings!!

[23:34] wzljh__: thats not what u said when u guilted me into buying u the cardcaptor sakura cards because u got me plushies of the straw hat crew

[23:34] You: i didn’t GET you them! i MADE them!! my craftsmanship and time are worth much more than the ccs cards!! equivalent exchange!!

[23:34] wzljh__: god u are such a weeb

[23:34] You: if you recognize my reference you’re not so innocent yourself

[23:34] wzljh__: …

[23:34] wzljh__: damn

[23:35] wzljh__: anyway u think ur craftsmanship is worth more than the $50 i dropped on those cards?

[23:35] wzljh__: u wanna tell that to chopper whose head was too big for his body and now looks as though hes in inexplicable pain??

You stared at the screen. What?

[23:35] You: ???? pics or it didn’t happen

[23:36] wzljh__: at the dorm

[23:36] You: !!!!! you still have them with you???

[23:36] wzljh__: yea? ofc lol

[23:37] wzljh__: they may be dopey but mostly dope

[23:37] You: bihhhhh

──────────────────

“Always remember this, Y/N.”

You swallowed the handful of popcorn you so elegantly stuffed in your mouth just seconds prior. “You always do this, Jihoon. You always wait until my mouth is full—”

���Good people watch anime.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay?”

“I’m serious. Don’t trust anyone who says that they don’t like anime, alright?”

“What, so, that’s a requirement for whoever I’m going to be involved with in the future?”

“Yes. How can someone be a bad person when they have Monkey D. Luffy to look up to?”

“Fair, but—”

“And if the person can commit to nearly a thousand manga chapters and over eight-hundred episodes, they can commit to you.”

For some reason, his logic overtook your own. You nodded in slow agreement. “I mean. You’re not wrong.”

“Of course not.”

“So, you’re saying I’d have to find my Luffy?”

He eyed you. “I think you’re more of a Nico Robin than a Nami, honestly.”

Your stomach flipped but you brushed aside the implications of his words.

And even years later, your first-date questions always included, ‘If you were a Straw Hat member, who do you think you would be?’

You had yet to find another Zoro.

──────────────────

[23:38] wzljh__: anyway u still owe me

[23:38] You: BIHHHHHHH

[23:39] wzljh__: ill let u know by the end of the week

[23:39] You: 🥺 do i not get a choice

[23:41] wzljh__: u always have a choice 

[23:42] You: hrmmmmmm then… i shall hear you out… maybe… perhaps… mayhaps

[23:42] wzljh__: always been a poet, since that second grade writing contest, havent u

[23:43] You: me? a poet? how about i quote one of the greatest poets of our generation

[23:43] You: ‘let’s have fun’

[23:43] wzljh__: …?

[23:44] You: ‘everyone stand up and clap’

[23:44] wzljh__: ok

[23:44] You: 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[23:45] You: wait

[23:45] You: that’s one too many

[23:45] wzljh__: fake fan

[23:46] You: 😢 i come here and get bullied by a member of my favorite k-pop group

[23:46] wzljh__: favorite

[23:46] wzljh__: ?*

[23:46] You: asjdkksncsls yoinks

[23:47] You: i wish i could unsend messages

[23:47] You: or go back 3 seconds in time

[23:48] You: but what if i jump forward 10 seconds..

[23:49] wzljh__: HA

[23:49] wzljh__: alright u are at least a cubic if u watch gose

[23:50] You: 💖💙 it’s what pulled me thru my thesis

[23:50] wzljh__: lololol

[23:50] wzljh__: alright alright

[23:50] wzljh__: i gotta go soon

[23:50] wzljh__: but

[23:51] wzljh__: congratulations y/n

[23:51] wzljh__: seriously

[23:51] wzljh__: u do some amazing things

[23:52] You: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[23:52] You: thanks jihoon so do u

[23:52] You: oh wait i just remembered

[23:55] wzljh__: ?

[23:56] You: an amazing thing u did

[23:56] You: thanks for sharing the info abt the group home project!!

[23:58] You: i don’t think i can ever explain how grateful i am!! it went so smoothly because of the response from the surrounding communities

[00:00] You: and you didn’t need to share the information

[00:00] You: but you did

[00:00] You: and i just

[00:00] You: idk i’m really grateful

[00:02] You: anyway!!

[00:02] You: sorry

[00:03] You: oh wait i’m supposed to say thank you

[00:03] You: thank you thank you thank you

[00:03] You: thank you lee jihoon

[00:05] wzljh__: is it bad if i just send a 👍🏼

[00:05] You: you’re gonna ok, boomer me? and my authentic and genuine heartfelt words??

[00:06] wzljh__: 👍🏼

[00:07] You: ...i’m unsubscribing

[00:07] wzljh__: lolool

[00:07] You: 😭😭😭

[00:08] wzljh__: still a crybaby

[00:08] You: more like crylady

[00:09] wzljh__: i suggest u never say that ever again

[00:10] You: yep noted i regretted it as soon as i hit send

[00:10] wzljh__: looooollll

[00:11] wzljh__: ill let u know what i expect for my equivalent exchange

[00:12] wzljh__: i need to consult with my lawyers on what exactly i can get away with

[00:12] You: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[00:12] wzljh__: i can hear that message and i dont get how

[00:13] You: i’m gonna d word 😭

[00:13] wzljh__: not until i get my gift lol anyway ill message u by the end of the week

[00:14] You: ok 😞 fine

[00:14] You: you’ll message me?

[00:14] You: 🤙🏼?

[00:15] wzljh__: lolollllllll thats not a pinky promise emoji

[00:16] You: don’t care!!!

[00:16] wzljh__: lollll still so stubborn

[00:16] wzljh__: okay fine

[00:17] wzljh__: 🤙🏼

[00:18] wzljh__: goodnight y/n sleep well

And so you did.

You dreamt of crescent moons, steady heartbeats, gentle melodies, and open arms.

And falling, falling, falling.

──────────────────

Five weeks.

Four interviews.

Three community project ideas.

Two job offers.

One major minor meltdown.

Zero Instagram messages.

Not that it particularly mattered when your entire future was splayed out right in front of you.

“So… you either stay in Seoul…” Hyejin began.

“...or I move to New York,” you finished for her.

“...okay, but like, what is even over there?”

“Unnie.”

“I know it’s your favorite city in the world—”

“Strongly so.”

“And they have Broadway—”

“An absolute treat.”

“And you’d be lecturing at Columbia—”

“The first Social Work university in America and most prestigious school in said field.”

“But I’m not there!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Hyejin’s pout. “Unnie, you and Wheein were already talking about living together next year because you’re both heading over to Jeju!”

“Which is the same time zone as Seoul! AKA, I can call you at any point I want—”

“We both know that’s not true even if we were in the same time zone.”

“...okay, touché. But! Are you really going to move halfway across the world? Again?”

“I enjoyed my time at Yale!”

“Bumblebee, you left Korea because you were running away from something. Someone. Are you sure you’re not leaving Korea for the same reason?”

“...Unnie, I love New York.”

──────────────────

“Doesn’t this city just reek of anxiety?”

You ignored her and instead took in the hustle and bustle of the streets around you. The neon signs of overpriced bags just begging to be haggled, the misogynistic advertisements of computer-generated women overhead, unassuming hot dog stands and bodegas whose businesses depended entirely on locals, live music found on nearly every street corner, committed to entertain in order to survive.

This city was the physical manifestation of everything right and wrong with humanity.

Bodies close. Minds worlds away.

The perfect place for someone like you.

“So full of life.”

Hyejin looked at you. Her face softened once she caught a glimpse of the glimmer of light she always saw in passing.

She hoped it would return for the long-term.

“Yeah, bumblebee. Full of life.”

She promised herself that she would take you every year from then on.

Your first trip was during the nipping frost of winter, filled with artificial twinkling and overconsumption of goods; the holiday cheer dampened by the cold reality that heartbreak and loneliness were inevitable byproducts of the season.

Your second trip was in the welcoming arms of autumn, decidedly going upstate for one day; the leaves faded into reds and golds, apples ready to be picked to be baked into a sweet pie, accompanied by the warmth of spiced cider and slow healing found in vulnerability wrapped in double crochet blankets and friendship.

Your third trip was during the sweltering heat of the summer, bad decisions and dangerous impulsivity. Late night drives of yells and whoops echoed into the Lincoln Tunnel with the wind rushing through your hair. The invincibility of youth and rekindling of the burning fire you thought was long gone.

Your fourth trip was in the blossoming of springtime, maturation of seeds sown and bountiful harvests. Gentle breezes and flowy dresses. Picnic baskets and overpriced coffees. The unspoken connection of humans collectively sitting in Central Park enjoying the gift of now, thankful to be alive.

As the seasons changed, so did you.

──────────────────

“But,” Hyejin started, exasperation already apparent in her tone. “Come on, bumblebee.”

Annoyance flared up. “What?”

“You’re thinking about running away again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes at you and you could feel the simmering anger building in the pit of your stomach. You tried to quell it down with breathing, but you still felt the flames lick at your insides. “Jihoon just started messaging you again and you’re off here just thinking about fleeing the country. Again.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“I think it has everything to do with him.”

“I’m not some lovesick puppy who can’t make her own decisions, unnie. I applied to Columbia because I thought that it would be an amazing opportunity to be an assistant professor. Do you know how many PhD grads get to score a job like that right out of graduation?”

“Oh, yes, we get it, Y/N. You’re always cream of the crop. Top of your class. Always pursuing something bigger and better than what we mere humans can provide.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“You were offered a full-ride to NYU for your PhD, but you declined it because you didn’t want to, and I’m quoting you here, ‘dirty your healing place.’”

“Things change, unnie.”

“No, you’re just fucking scared.”

Rage filled you. “You don’t know me. You think you have me all figured out, but you’re just projecting onto me because you, for one, are constantly running away from your own feelings for Wheein! You wanna know who’s scared? It’s not me. Because I make my choices and I don’t regret them. Can’t say the same for yourself, huh?”

You grabbed your belongings and stomped out of your shared living space, slamming the door behind you, the beating in your chest ringing in your ears with a resounding thump, thump, thump.

Part of you wondered if the reason you snapped was because she was right.

Maybe partially.

But you also knew that you hated being carved and molded into what people perceived you as.

And she perceived you as something you were not.

Your happiness wasn’t reliant on him. You were a wholly and complete person without him. You knew that. You found that Truth long ago. You proved that through the years of work you put in; years that Hyejin witnessed herself.

So, it felt like a backhanded slap when it felt like she saw the girl you were when she first met you. As though you didn’t put in the effort to take the course of your life into your hands and crafted it to be the way that it is now.

You were a whole person.

She never said you weren’t.

You tried to pull out your car keys from your bag but struggled to find them in the midst of your frustration. You growled before giving up, stomping your way down the now dimly lit streets, the sky never quite achieving a pitch black, with the light pollution of the city. Stars were nowhere in sight, but the moon hung low near the horizon.

You found yourself walking (nearly stomping) for almost an hour as different voices argued in your mind. You were several blocks away from your home now.

She overreacted.

She’s just worried about you.

She didn’t have to be.

She probably doesn’t want you to experience the heartache that she’s seen you go through.

She was treating you like a child.

Because she loves you. And love makes you do crazy things sometimes. Like yelling at your best friend. Or flying halfway across the world.

You groaned inwardly.

God! Why did you have to have a conscience?

You said some pretty shitty things to someone who may have not portrayed her care in the best way, but tried to anyway. She gathered the courage to try and challenge you and you blew her off by rubbing salt into her own wound.

She wasn’t right.

But neither were you.

You felt the wash of shame come over you as you twiddled with your bag’s strap, trying to muster up the determination you needed to trudge back down and apologize.

“Oh, thank God, bumblebee.”

You pivoted your entire body at your unnie’s voice, wanting to shrink back at noticing the redness in her skin and puffiness under her eyes, even in the faint light of the street lamps. She looked so frazzled, her flip-flops nearly hanging off her feet from what looked like running around trying to find you. “Unnie, I—”

“I know you said you don’t like apologies, so I’ll say thank you instead. Thank you for your honesty, even if it was really mean. Thank you for listening to me, at least the beginning. Thank you for getting angry because I know that’s really fucking hard for you to do so and I feel weirdly honored but also still spooked by it. Thank you for not driving, especially this late and on a weekend when you’re upset—”

Your heart sank at the memory of Hyejin recounting her story of losing her friend to a drunk driver, something Hyejin felt immensely (and irrationally) responsible for, having been the person to last send her off.

You had forgotten about that.

Here you were, trying to figure out how you were going to apologize, and here she was, worrying about whether you were going to come back to her at all. You bit your lip before you piped up, “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Yeah, well, I was right. I learned that I never want to be caught in the crossfire. Your anger is terrifying. You’re not a bumblebee; you’re more like an agitated hornet. With a gun.”

“Unnie—”

“I’m not done. I don’t know how to process my emotions like you do so I didn’t really think before I came running after you. I’m still hurt and mad that you said all of that shit—”

“I was wrong,” you interrupted. She went quiet at that. “I don’t know everything. I hardly know anything. But what I do know is that I was wrong. I said some things that I knew were going to hurt you because that’s what I wanted to do. I was wrong. But... so were you, unnie.”

She remained silent, so you continued.

“I’m not that same, young, dumb teen that you met at Yale. I’m not the brat who was still trying to figure out how to be her own person without being an off-brand version of all of her friends from Busan. I’m… I’m not weak, unnie.”

“I… I never said you were.”

You wondered when you started crying. “Yeah, well. It felt like you didn’t believe in me. That you didn’t trust me. You are the only person in my life who saw all of the changes I went through and you still said I was running away. So, it just made me think that all of my growth was… I don’t know. Fake.”

“What? No. Oh, bumblebee. Never.”

“I’m… I’m my own person. Who can make her own decisions. I don’t need anyone else to complete me. So, there’s no one and nothing that I’m trying to run away from. I’m just trying to figure out where I want to go. Is that so bad?”

“...No. Not at all,” Hyejin answered softly. She slowly stepped towards you and tentatively wrapped her arms around your torso. You leaned in and breathed in her scent, muffling your sniffling against her shoulder. “You were right that I confused the woman you are now with the girl you were then. But I’ve never ever seen you as weak. Or incomplete. Not then, not now.”

“Then why?” You sobbed. “Why do you think my life revolves around him? Anyone else can think I’m some love-struck dumbass, but why you?”

“Oh, bumblebee, I fucked up when I said I thought it had everything to do with him. I definitely… projected. Like you said. As much as I hate to admit it. But... I also want you to know that I don’t see you as some sad girl who’s been pining after some crusty dude. I see a woman who has gone around the world, fallen in love with it and its people, and still knows exactly with whom she feels safest. And I don’t want you to deny yourself of that.”

“I’m not denying myself anything. He doesn’t love me, unnie. So, I have to be the one to do it. Because he won’t. And that’s okay. I’ve learned to love myself and isn’t that good enough?”

Hyejin squeezed you tighter in her embrace. “Call me crazy, but… I think there’s something there. Call it a spark. Call it a string of fate. Call it a grown love. But… ah. I’m not good with words like you, bumblebee. You are good enough. Just as you are. Wonderful, even. I… I’m not saying he’s a missing piece of you or anything like that. But. Agh. Like. He is bread. And you are butter. You’re both complete by nature and can exist without each other, but you’re just… better together,” she tried to hold her tongue, but you knew her resolve was weak, so you braced yourself. “Butter together.”

“...unnie, you really are bad with words.”

You yelped when she grabbed at you to pinch your thigh.

She promptly turned the two of you around back to your apartment, her arm looped around yours. You easily walked past your building, though, caught up in smoothing out the harsh lines said during your earlier conversation. She admitted her fears regarding pursuing her own unrequited love and you confessed you often chased things that were of grandeur rather than that of simplicity. And you both touched on exactly the roots of your insecurities: hers in her fear of being unwanted and yours in the idea that you were incomplete without him.

The two of you found yourselves swinging at a neighborhood park that probably closed several hours ago, but it was a safe space for the two of you, to air out the tension, to have the beginnings of healing and mending, although most of it being left to time and future efforts of rebuilding trust.

Together.

──────────────────

[19:21] wzljh__: this might be a dumb question but did ur kkt account change

[19:21] wzljh__: i tried messaging u and it said delivered but

[19:21] wzljh__: nvm u dont have to reply sorry

[19:42] You: omg

[19:42] You: jihoon i made a new account bc my username was @narutofanfreak123 and i couldn’t bear to tell people that was my username but i didn’t know how to change it LOLLL

[19:43] You: so i made a new account once i came back to korea!!

[20:01] wzljh__: i

[20:01] wzljh__: i shouldve asked

[20:02] wzljh__: i thought u werent replying because u were busy with job searching since u were posting about it on ur story

[20:02] wzljh__: or maybe u didnt want to talk to me 😣

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief.

Jihoon used an emoji?

[20:05] You: oh no lol i already got offers

[20:05] You: still deciding between two of them

[20:17] wzljh__: before u tell me whats ur username on kkt?

[20:18] You: oh yeah!

[20:18] You: oh

[20:18] You: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[20:18] wzljh__: ???

[20:19] You: haha

[20:19] You: ok so

[20:19] You: uh

[20:19] wzljh__: are u ok???

[20:20] You: yeah! haha

[20:20] You: welp

[20:20] You: it’s @madamefirefly

[20:20] You: heh

Lee Jihoon (@wzljh__) added you on KakaoTalk! You accepted Lee Jihoon’s request!

[20:23] Lee Jihoon: nice username

[20:23] You: thanks it was inspired by someone who used to bully me as their pastime

[20:25] Lee Jihoon: sounds like u were a masochist

[20:25] You: 🙄🙄🙄

[20:25] You: nice username

[20:25] You: sounds like it was randomly generated off of a sketchy site on naver that just so happened to have your initials

[20:26] Lee Jihoon: that ‘sketchy site’ somehow managed to predict the initials of my english stage name

[20:27] You: that was easily!!!! within your control to manipulate, woozi-ssi!! it should technically be uji!!

[20:27] Lee Jihoon: no that site knew my future and spoke to me

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: speaking of futures

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: whats coming up on the y/n agenda

[20:29] You: oop sorry hyejin-unnie is back home and i promised we would get dinner together so i might not respond until later

[20:30] You: but i’m deciding between staying here in seoul to continue the work i’ve been doing and being an assistant professor at columbia university in new york city!!

[20:30] You: although i’m def leaning more towards one than the other

[20:30] You: ack she’s yelling at me to hurry sorry i’ll ttyl!!

[Read at 20:30]

──────────────────

 Your phone rang.

You saw the FaceTime ID and never slid the bar faster than you did in that moment.

“Unnie! I—oh God, is that a wedding dress—oh my, oh no, the tears—”

One of the most beautiful laughters of your childhood rang out as she flipped the camera back to her face, stained from salty tears already passed. “Oh, lovebug—” Your lips split into a wide grin at the childhood nickname. “I think this is the one. I needed to show you. What do you think?”

“Hold on, I’m crying so hard that I can’t see—”

337.1km away, your future family member (although, one could argue she always had been) burst into a renewal of joyful tears, so exuberantly over-the-moon to share this moment with you, and you sharing the same exact sentiment to be able to bask in the joy of a promised love.

“Unnie,” you said emphatically. “You are… so beautiful. So stunning. So radiant. So dazzling. My goodness me. You are… just so splendent.”

She hiccuped. “Lovebug, no one uses that word anymore.”

“I had to go back to words of old to explain myself because language oft fails me when I see you.”

“Stop. God, you and Jihoon both with your ability to speak. How do words even come out of you two like that?”

You made a noise.

You don’t think she caught it.

“Y/N, you are sunshine personified, so to hear you say that makes me feel like I’m being blessed by Amaterasu herself.”

“I wouldn’t want to go lock myself in a cave.”

“Then don’t, lovebug,” she said dismissively. “Plus, you can’t. The bachelor and bachelorette party is gonna be in Seoul and you promised you would be there.”

“Yes, yes. To help me get blackmail on everyone else in case they try to turn on you later. You’re using me, you know?”

“You’re a useful person.”

You clicked your tongue. “So I’ve been told.”

A comfortable silence passed between the two of you before she broke it, a slight hesitation in her tone.

“So… turns out that Jihoon’s gonna be at oppa’s bachelor party. Oppa asked him to perform and he said no because of his schedule, but he said he would be at the wedding. And the bachelor party.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. He was willingly going to the party and the wedding of the man who stole the love of his life away from him? “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Huh. Weird.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s coming to the wedding. I know you don’t want to see him, but—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you literally went across the world to avoid him—”

“Why does everyone think that? No, don’t worry about me, unnie. It’s fine.”

You didn’t look directly at the screen but you could feel her stare boring into the side of your face through it. She thought you were lying. But you weren’t. It wasn’t about you.

“Lovebug—”

“He texted me.”

Your words stunned her into silence.

That is, until she went rapid-fire.

“Oh my God. What? How? When? Did you reply? Was it an emergency? Did you have a conversation? Was it a casual conversation? How long? Oh, thank goodness—”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, unnie. Wait. Why do you look happier now than you did when you were showing me your wedding dress? Wait. Aren’t you at a boutique right now? Don’t you have your mom waiting or something—?”

“Shush, I’m asking the questions around here.”

And so, you answer them. You told your future family, your confidant, your safe space. You told her of the accidental like, the off-chance comment, the purposeful messages, and everything caught in between.

337.1km away and you felt right at home.

──────────────────

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice anywhere.

Of course she was here, of course she was. This was one of your collective dreams, two girls fantasizing about inebriated situations and uninhibited fun by means of burning liquids in a local Busan bar. A dream of spending a night here, sharing a story for every shot.

You learned a year prior that you would really only be able to tell two stories before wanting to quit.

“Oh… hey, unnie.”

“You’re… you’re back.”

You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh. Graduated.”

“From Yale.”

“Uh… yeah. From Yale.”

“Can… I sit here?”

You glanced up at her before gesturing to the seat in front of you, the corner booth really far too large for your person. You could almost see the thoughts that raced in her mind before she gave a small nod and sunk down into the cushion.

“So, how have you—”

“I heard you—”

“Oh, no, you go—”

“Oh, sorry, I just—”

You both locked eyes.

And promptly burst into a fit of laughter.

“God, what is this?” You managed to get out, holding your stomach.

She was no better, in her signature hiccuping stage. “I just—!”

“We have the communication skills of five-year-olds.”

She wiped away a stray tear. “We’ve become a drama.”

“I call being the second-male lead.”

“Wait, that’s not fair. We all know that the second-male lead is objectively better.”

“That’s exactly why, unnie,” you winked.

She scoffed. “Alright, I’ll give it to you this time, lovebug.”

You saw her freeze, as if she didn’t expect herself to call you by that nickname. She looked like a deer caught in headlights and you quickly gave her a wave of your hand. “You spent more years calling me that than you did my actual name. Let’s not break the trend now, yeah?”

She visibly relaxed and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

A lull passed over you, but you felt much more comfortable with this silence than the strained one prior. You closed your eyes and simply took in the moment, gratitude filling your lungs.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry that you had to leave because of me—”

Oh.

That was heart wrenching to hear.

The apology signified a wound, an old one.

A self-inflicted one.

Oh no.

“Unnie,” you began slowly, reaching for her hands. You could see the tears brimming. “Do you… do you blame yourself for my decision? Has guilt been eating at you all of these years?”

“I just… you left. Jihoon left. If I had just said something, then—”

“Unnie.”

She bit her lip at your definitive tone.

“Nothing, nothing, about this was your fault.  Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t mine and it wasn’t his either. We all struggled to ‘just say something’. Unnie, we were young and dumb. We still are young and dumb,” you squeezed her hands for emphasis. “If you say you’re sorry, then okay. I forgive you. But I just want you to know that past me never blamed you. Never.”

She let out a choked sob and you found yourself crossing to the other side of the table, enveloping her in your arms, tucking her head under your chin. She buried her face into your chest and you just rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for never reaching out. I’m sorry I never cleared the air. I’m sorry I was so scared.”

“We needed time and space apart, unnie. To figure ourselves out. And I did. I really did. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I kept tying my self-worth into Korea, into Busan, into you, into him. But that doesn’t mean I cut you off in order to do it. I don’t think I ever could,” you squeezed tighter. “Thank you for saying that you’re sorry, but there really is no need, not to me.”

And so she cried into your arms, emptying herself of tears. Later, you filled that space with your stories of adventure, your kind words, and your love. And she did the same for you.

In that moment, Busan never seemed so much more like home.

──────────────────

“So, New York, huh?”

You glanced up at your boss, the social worker in charge of running the different programs tied to the university, the same one who got you involved with the group home, the same one who offered you a full-time position after graduation in training new recruits, specializing in the Child and Family division, but also providing self-care guidance to the rest of the staff since your specialty in school was around Behavioral and Mental Health.

The pay was good, seeing as it was run by professionals partnered with SKY: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University. What most Koreans would consider to be the ‘Ivy League’ of South Korea. Although, being a community leader was definitely a far-cry from a prestigious position as an assistant professor.

“Ah. Yeah, New York.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s… yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is the air better there than here?”

“No fine dust, but there’s a lot of smog.”

She pulled a displeased face. “Is that better?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. You wanted to reduce into a puddle and slip through the vents, dreading this conversation.

“You should go.”

Uh. What?

You parroted those exact words out loud.

“I may have lost some of my mind’s sharpness to age and time, but if I remember correctly, New York City is one of the most popular places in the world. And I hear that it would be a good place for a young, spry lady like you to get your bright mind out there. The world needs a little more of you and if New York City is the best way to do it, so be it.”

“I’m… I’m…”

“A wonderful human being who will make the most of the hand that she’s dealt. I’ve seen you make castles out of cardboard.”

“You… you want me to go to New York?”

“Oh, Heavens no. Not at all. I would love to just keep you here forever,” she sighed, going so far as to lean back in her desk chair. You resisted the urge to laugh at her theatrics. “But you’re not a princess locked up in a tower. You have the power to make your own choice, and I know that whichever path you go down, it will be a flowery one. You’ll make it one. Because that’s just what you do, Y/N.”

“What if… What if I’m not sure?”

She tilted her head back down to meet your eyes and gave you a smile that was slightly off-putting, as though you had fallen into a trap she carefully laid out. “Then, what can I do to convince you to stay here?”

“I think a part of me thinks I’m wanting to stay here because I’ve found my home here. I think I’ve become incredibly comfortable here. In Korea.”

She blinks at you. “Is… that a bad thing?”

“I think... I think that I’m wanting to stay here because I love it here and the work I do and the people I’ve met, but I think I’m wanting to leave because I’m trying to prove that I’m not tied down to a particular person. Because I feel like everyone thinks that I can’t live my life without them, so I want to prove that I can do it. That I will.”

“So… you’re trying to prove that you’re not influenced by said person, by, uh, being influenced by said person?”

“Uh.”

“‘Uh,’ indeed.”

“What if… I’m staying here because I subconsciously think that everyone is right? That I actually can’t live without them? Not actually?”

“Is that person me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m a little hurt you answered that so quickly, but. To prove my point. You are here, in my office, yes?”

“Yes…?”

“Are they?”

“No…?”

“Then. You’re living without them, aren’t you? Right here. In front of me. Heart pumping out blood through your veins and your brain shooting off neurons. You’re alive. Without them.”

“It’s… it’s a little different, Doctor, I—”

“Y/N. You’re dazzling. Almost overwhelmingly so. There is no one. No one who can overshadow you in the way you think they can. No matter what underlying influences, no matter what puppetry you may think is going on, you call the shots. You get to decide what to include in your life moving forward. If this person has as much power as you think they do over you, I’d like to meet them. Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You bit your lip. “Is… Is it okay to be so selfish?”

“You said so yourself, Y/N. You found a home here. Or more like, knowing you, you built a home here. Korea will forever be marked by you. Seoul. Busan. Everywhere you’ve gone. That’s something that the majority of the world cannot say, because everyone feels a little lost, a little out of place. But you? No. You have a place. Right here. And, I mean, even at the end of the day, if you go off somewhere else, you’ll always have a place to return to that will welcome you with open arms.”

“Doctor, I…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...I think I wanna stay.”

“Perfect. I’ll have them write up your contract.”

──────────────────

[04:12] Lee Jihoon: i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

[4:12] You: i still have the sleep schedule of a doctoral student, you know

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: oho i see

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: and u still owe me a gift, doctor

[4:12] You: 🥴🥴🥴 i thought you forgot

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: never

[4:13] You: ok lee jihoon, what do you want?

[4:13] Lee Jihoon: can i call u

[4:13] You: ? sure?

Before you could even type, ‘is something wrong?’, his name and profile picture (which wasn’t even of him, it was that dumb photo of Hansol) flooded your screen. Your finger slid across before you could even give a second thought.

“Um. Hello?” Silence met your ears. You wondered whether the call actually went through. You pulled the phone away from your cheek and pressed ‘speaker’. “Jihoon…?”

“Ah, sorry. Yes. Wow. Hi.”

You knew speaker was the better option. Hearing his voice that close to your ear would have given you heart palpitations, or at least, worse than what was already happening. “Yes, hello yourself. Did you need something?”

“Huh?”

“You called?”

“Oh. Yeah. No. I just. Wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I think staring at a screen would’ve made me fall asleep faster, but I wanted to talk. To you. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay.”

You heard him release a sigh of relief (?). “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

You hummed, realizing there was a chance he didn’t exactly prepare conversation topics. “I decided to stay in Seoul.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My boss here convinced me.”

“Tell them thank you.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t hard to.”

“Columbia is a pretty prestigious place, though.”

“Huh. How’d you know that?”

“Might’ve asked Hansol and Jisoo-hyung.”

You clicked your tongue. “Jihoon, just because they’re American doesn’t mean—”

“Nope. That’s exactly what it means.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea. You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even bigger school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So. I’m proud of you.”

Your throat felt tight. “It’s not that big of a deal—”

“But it is, firefly.”

Oh, that nickname. “I mean, I just—”

“You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

“I’ve missed you.”

Before you could even make a noise (not that you could), he continued.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls. And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle go down. That kind of stupid.”

You couldn’t form words.

But you tried.

“I… I missed you too.”

You could’ve sworn you heard utter satisfaction in his voice. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

His laughter rang throughout your empty room and your chest tightened.

“Alright, we’ll go with just firefly then.”

Tears formed in your eyes at the ‘we’. You felt like you were fifteen and back in your childhood bedroom, after a long, long hours, ending your night by telling him about your day. The words you denied yourself for years tumbled out of your mouth, “Night, night, Jihoonie.”

A low chuckle met your ears.

“Sleep well, firefly.”

──────────────────

“He fucking booty called you?”

“Unnie, that’s not—”

“Nuh-uh, bumblebee. Any call past 3am is a fucking booty call.”

“So, when you called me past 3am, it was a booty call? I feel violated.”

“Time zones, Wheein. Doesn’t count,” Hyejin said dismissively.

Wheein puffed out her cheeks and stabbed the salad in front of her, piercing a lettuce leaf. You wanted to laugh at her infantile display, but you knew that would only result in her turning against you. And Hyejin was already a formidable opponent.

“He’s an idol,” you repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. “His rehearsal didn’t end until 3am.”

“He didn’t even tell you what he wanted for a gift,” Wheein interrupted.

“Yeah, what the hell is that about?” You muttered, turning back to your own plate of fries. You chewed on one thoughtfully as you made eye contact with Hyejin who gave you a deadpanned look. “What?”

“God, you two are dense, aren’t you?”

“Um, rude?”

“The phone call was the gift,” Hyejin explained.

“What a shitty gift.”

“Yeah, what? I would’ve asked for, like, Y/N’s homemade japchae.”

“Or my kimchi jjigae.”

“Or her dwaejigogi-bokkeum—wait. Stop distracting me,” Hyejin shook her head. “Regardless, bumblebee. He called you and that was his gift.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous notion. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t make Brady Bunch references at me. We’re not American.”

“No, but we do use the internet,” you reminded her. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like the fact that my cousin and his fiancée are coming in about a week and they want to get dinner together before they get shit-faced over the weekend. My only task is to gather blackmail material whenever the bachelorette happens with her friends.”

“Sounds like my kind of job.”

“Yes, Wheein-unnie, it really does.”

“Aren’t you gonna see him then?”

“Who? Jihoon?”

“Yeah, like. Aren’t you gonna see him next week? Isn’t he in your cousin’s bachelor party troupe or whatever the hell it’s called?”

You cocked your head to the side. “I don’t think I’ll see him? I shouldn’t see him. I think they’re gonna be in a different part of Seoul.”

“Huh. That would’ve been cool, though.”

“What?”

“You know that scene in dramas, where the main characters meet each other again for the first time in a long time and it’s all fuzzy and slow motion and there’s music playing in the background?”

“That’s—what? No. That doesn’t actually happen in real life, unnie.”

Hyejin pursed her lips. “Sure, Jan.”

──────────────────

“Ladybug!”

“Move aside, second-rate, that’s my lovebug.”

Your unnie ran into your open arms after she shoved her fiancé aside. You laughed at his crestfallen face but squeezed your future family as tight as you could. She squealed at your strength but nuzzled her face into your neck anyway.

“She’s… she’s my cousin, you know.”

“Yeah, but she chose me, which means that she likes me more. Chosen family is always better.”

“What? No—”

“She’s right, oppa,” you quipped. “Chosen family is always better. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing?”

“I—you two always do this. You two always gang up on me and Jihoon, and—”

“Our table is ready, oppa. Let’s go take a seat.”

“For once, can you two listen to me, please?”

“He’s asked that before, unnie.”

“And we abided at that one time, right, lovebug?”

“Yes. He said to listen for once and we did.”

“Once only means one time, am I wrong?”

“No, unnie, you’re not.”

“God, forget it. Where’s the damn table? I need a drink.”

The two of you laughed at your cousin’s outburst and retreating figure as you both linked arms to follow after.

──────────────────

One appetizer in, you swirled the lemonade in your hands, appreciating the visible pulp as an indicator of its freshness. Your cousin, on the other hand, was several beers in, face slightly flushed, a permanent lazy grin plastered on his face.

“Wow, I’m surrounded by my two favorite girls—”

“What about your mom?”

“Or your dog?”

“Or Jennie from Blackpink?

“Or Zero Two from Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Oh God. He watched Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Ugh, yes, lovebug, let me tell you—”

“ANYWAY. YEAH. MY TWO FAVORITE GIRLS.”

The two of you snickered at his outburst. Your cousin’s phone pinged and he shielded it from you, squinting like an old man, staring at the screen with a tilted head. “Oh, hey, he’s five minutes away.”

You made an inquisitive sound. “Who?”

The two of them exchanged nervous glances, your cousin visibly swallowing.

Your unnie was the one who decided to speak up.

Because they knew you wouldn’t ever get mad at her.

Oh no.

“I know we didn’t give you the time to prepare, but we thought that you would’ve run away if we told you earlier, but Jihoon is coming here and—”

You could see her mouth move but you only heard a dull ringing.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Wait.

Could you even speak? Where was your mouth again? Did it even move? What was happening? Where were you? Who were you?

“Y/N.”

You thought you felt a hand place itself on your shoulder. You turned to the sound source. “Yes?”

“Are you breathing?” “I think so.”

Your vision focused enough to recognize the looks of concern from the two seated at the booth.

Your heart sank. Oh no. Oh no.

Jihoon was going to see the two of them together, engaged.

He was going to be completely shattered.

“Lovebug, are you crying?”

“I—”

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin’s voice went up several octaves from its regular position. You froze and cast your eyes downward, shrinking back as far into the seat as you could.

“Hey, hyung.”

Even the highest quality of speakers could not do this man’s voice justice, you realized.

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

You prepared yourself to hear the strain in his voice that you knew would tear you up inside.

“Hi, noona.”

Wait. What?

He spoke with such nonchalance, your head shot up in surprise.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Was your vision still fuzzy from earlier?

Did someone turn the playback speed to 0.5x?

Was that music playing?

(Shit. Hyejin was right.)

Your tongue mindlessly ran across your lips.

Oh wow.

He was really built like that, huh? His fair skin was so clear, you could have sworn there was a halo of light emitting from him. Cleanly done undercut, his ebony bangs fell messily just above his eyes, oh God, those crescent eyes, those bright, bright, bright—

Has he always looked at you like that?

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

The older two gawked for a moment before your cousin began to berate you, going so far as to threaten to wash your mouth out with soap, while your unnie had her jaw dropped in horror. But you couldn’t look away from Jihoon. Surprise flitted across his face, but only for a moment. It settled into an uptilted corner of his lip and amusement dancing in his irises.

The woman before him, he only ever caught fleeting moments of. From social media posts by old friends to grainy photos from news outlets regarding your doctoral work. You were always so hard to pin down, like trying to catch a sunbeam in his hands.

You changed. So much.

You grew more into yourself, a woman you crafted with your own hands. There was a quiet confidence woven into you, so blatantly obvious, even though your current posture would convince everyone else otherwise. But he wasn’t everyone else. He could see the burning flame you’ve had since you were children, but it was more refined, more honed in, more in your control.

That made you more dangerous.

But that flustered look on your face.

Maybe you hadn’t changed too much.

And that gave him hope.

──────────────────

[끝.]

[side B: him.]

[morningfears]

Television Romance [Chapter One]

Rating: PG-13 (some swears, nothing major)

Summary: Natalia Adler is a stressed out grad student who attempts to escape the noise of her office by visiting her favorite coffee shop. However, instead of a few hours of writing, she gets a lap full of coffee and a date with the most gorgeous guy she’s ever met.

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter Two

The graduate student office was usually busy, bustling with activity and overflowing with graduate students working on various research projects or grading coursework as well as undergraduate students seeking assistance with assignments. It was always difficult to concentrate among the din, there was always some conversation or another taking place that was much more interesting than writing yet another proposal, but Tuesdays were the worst.

On Tuesdays, the graduate teaching seminar met in the student office. For an hour each week, the teaching assistants dragged whatever chairs they could find to the center of the room and formed a circle to discuss problems that had arisen in their classrooms, questions they had about university policy, and an article on teaching practices they were assigned to - but never actually did - read. The class was supposed to be useful, a way for them all to prepare for their futures as academics, but it usually turned into a shouting match as the stronger personalities argued over one another about best practices in classroom management. And after, when the dust settled and the faculty facilitator was gone, students who didn’t have a one o’clock class stuck around to catch up on whatever departmental gossip they’d missed throughout the week.

Most days, Natalia was able to tune it all out. Her desk was in the corner, hidden behind a flimsy partition, and her noise cancelling headphones worked wonders to drown out the arguments. She didn’t love catching snippets of pointless conversations about which departmental policies were outdated - they all were - or which graduate students were sleeping together but she made it work. However, today was not one of those days.

She had several important deadlines looming over her head - conference submissions, revisions for a potential publication, the first draft of her thesis proposal, all due within days of one another - and she was feeling overwhelmed. The argument as to whether the department was too hard or too soft on students - or whether professors played favorites - was only making things worse. Instead of subjecting herself to two more hours of torture, she decided to pack up her bag and head to the coffee shop across the street. Even if it was loud, it had to at least be less hostile than the office.

She stood, satchel slung over one shoulder with her cellphone and headphones in hand, and glanced over the top of her partition at the girl who sat across from her. Nicole, like Natalia, wore headphones whenever she worked in the office and only glanced up when Natalia tossed a paperclip at her.

“I’m going to Molly’s,” she announced when Nicole pulled her headphones away from her ears and glanced up at her. Natalia struggled to keep her voice quiet in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to herself, though she was half certain she could yell and still not be heard over her colleagues. However, she remained cautious as the last thing she wanted was for anyone to join her. “You want anything?”

“A new job, a better salary, a husband who takes out the trash… I could go on,” Nicole answered, rolling her neck and grinning tiredly at Natalia’s deadpan expression. “I’ll settle for a caramel latte, though. With almond milk and extra caramel, please. I’ll Venmo you.”

“I’ve got it,” Natalia assured her with a wave of her hand as Nicole reached for her cellphone, “you got me boba last week. You have class at three, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Nicole sighed as she dropped the device, straightened up in her chair, and pulled a face as she glanced at the syllabus tacked to her partition wall. “We’re going over how Marxism influenced Burke today. I think I’d rather chew off my own foot than try to teach a group of undergrads about either Marxism or Burke.”

“I know the point of college is to make kids think,” Natalia began as she hoisted her bag a little higher on her shoulder and ambled around her partition to stop beside Nicole’s desk, “but I’m glad I got the class that’s a little more, ‘well, duh,’ than that. We’re going over how fundamentally fucked the US healthcare system is today.”

Nicole paused for a moment, staring at Natalia with a look that reeked of both annoyance and exhaustion, before she dropped her head to her desk and asked, “Is it too late to drop out?”

This was a conversation they’d had at least once a week since their first semester of graduate school and Natalia bit back a laugh as she nodded. “Yep. You’re halfway through your thesis proposal, no quitting now,” she pointed out as she nodded toward the stack of books on religious rhetoric that Nicole had stacked on her desk. “Anyway, only eight more months until we’re free.”

“I’m three pages in,” Nicole informed her, a pitiful whine erupting from her throat as she lifted her head and ran a hand through her unwashed curls. “This is going to be a long semester.”

Natalia, who had been under the impression that she was impossibly behind although she only lacked a completed methodology section, grimaced upon learning just how far behind Nicole was. She gave her friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and, although she had her own deadlines to meet, offered her assistance. “I’ll probably be sticking around after class tonight,” she informed her as she thought about the papers she still needed to grade, “if you need me to help with anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Nicole sighed as she turned in her chair and smiled at Natalia, the exhaustion evident in her features although they were only a month into the semester. “I’m thinking about a writing party on Friday so that people can submit conference papers and then go get hammered after. You in?”

“Always down for drinks after opening myself up for rejection. You can send out an email and maybe follow up with a GroupMe or something. Your husband won’t mind you spending Friday with us?” she asked as she glanced over at the group of students, now talking instead of arguing, that still remained in the room. Although they got on her nerves sometimes, she had grown to love most of them.

“He’s going to a football game with some friends. If I stay home, I’ll just end up falling asleep in the tub with a glass of wine. I’ll send the email after class,” Nicole answered as she grabbed her headphones and moved to reposition them onto her ears. “Go, get out of here before someone stops you. You’ll be back by three?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back before you have to leave. I’ll text you when I’m on my way over. See you in a bit,” Natalia hummed as she tapped the top of Nicole’s partition before maneuvering around the group that crowded the doorway and stepping out into the hall.

The building itself wasn’t that busy, it rarely was, but campus was teeming with students as Natalia stepped outside. They typically opted for afternoon classes rather than morning ones and it was obvious that classes held after lunch were the most populated as she watched students wander from building to building. Her own undergraduate experience had been very different - classes as early in the morning as she could get them and work in the afternoons until late at night - but she understood the desire to take advantage of the opportunity.

As a graduate student, her schedule was a little different. She was usually the first one to arrive in the office, just to get a little work done, and held office hours during lunch. She was a TA for a class that met on Tuesdays and Thursday at three and had her own classes to attend, with each of the three meeting once a week, starting at six p.m. and ending at around ten. 

She was busier than she had ever been, even busier than the two years she spent working two jobs and overloading her class schedule. It was harder and lonelier than undergrad had been. She had little time to feel human or socialize without anyone outside of her program, however, she told herself that it would all be worth it when she finished and had a master’s degree under her belt.

Natalia made the most of the few minutes it took her to walk from her office to Molly’s, the closest coffee shop to campus that wasn’t the always crowded Starbucks in the library. She rarely got to enjoy her days. They were usually spent locked in the office or cooped up in the library, neither of which had enough windows. Although it was September, fall still seemed a lifetime away. 

She could still smell summer as an occasional ocean breeze wafted through campus. The sun was bright and high in the sky and the air was warm. It felt like the height of summer, as it usually did in Los Angeles, and she was grateful that she’d chosen to wear a dress instead of pants as the slight breeze kept her from overheating as she entered Molly’s.

The little coffee shop was every Instagram obsessed student’s dream. The exterior was nondescript with plain white walls and a small patio with string lights and a few small tables, however, the interior more than made up for it. There were walls covered with ivy - though Natalia didn’t know if it was real or not - and neon signs littered around the space. There was also a loft with tables and chairs that always seemed to be quieter than the rest of the shop.

It had all been too much for her the first time she visited. It seemed gimmicky, not the kind of place she wanted to frequent even if it was convenient, however, her opinion changed the moment she tried the coffee. Her predecessors in the program hadn’t been wrong in telling her that it was the best coffee she could get and that it served as a good hideout when the office got to be too much to handle. She understood why it was frequented by both students and the outside community, even if it took them too close to campus.

Although the coffee shop was bustling with students rushing in and out between classes, filled with the sounds of conversation and the excitement that came with a new school year, it still seemed quieter than the office. After ordering her iced coffee and settling into a table near the entrance, Natalia slipped her headphones back on and bit her lip in concentration as she opened her laptop and began working on the revisions she’d gotten back from her co-author.

It was difficult, not paying attention to the patrons that entered the shop as she loved people watching, but Natalia kept her eyes on her screen and typed away. If she had glanced up, she might have seen the looks that people threw one another as two men entered the shop. She might have seen how a few snuck pictures with their cellphones or how others whispered excitedly as they passed them by. But she didn’t. All she saw was the cursor on her document blink as she tried to string together a coherent sentence.

She focused on typing a new explanation for a concept she thought she’d covered well enough to need no further explanation, a metaphorical dark cloud hanging over her head as she let the reviewer’s comments weigh on her pride. However, as she got into a groove, her word count quickly climbing, she felt something cold splash against her right side.

She sat, stunned, for a few seconds, before she pulled her headphones off and blinked at the coffee that stained the right side of her dress and dripped from her skin. Ice cubes gathered in her lap, cold seeping through the fabric of her dress as she attempted to process what happened. It took a few more seconds of staring at the mess before she picked up her laptop and held it away from the growing pool of coffee. Ice cubes clattered to the floor as she stood and she grimaced as she watched them fall. She looked over the computer, sighing in relief when nothing appeared to be wet, before she lifted her head and looked at the person responsible.

Any other time, her attention would be on how beautiful the man in front of her was. He stood a head taller than her, easily, with broad shoulders and a surprised expression that she was sure matched her own. His blonde curls had fallen into his eyes, obscuring the blue slightly, and his cheeks and upturned nose were tinted pink in embarrassment as he looked over the damage he’d done.

They stared at one another for longer than necessary, his eyes lingering on her face just as hers lingered on his, and she was glad that he at least had the decency to stare at her face instead of the wet fabric clinging to her. The man beside him, slightly shorter and more amused than embarrassed, nudged his friend who moved as if he were a video that had been taken off pause.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, his words rushing together as he watched her place her laptop on a neighboring table to keep it out of harm’s way before she reached for a few napkins. “Fuck, here, let me help you with that.”

His hand bumped into hers as he reached for more napkins and began wiping at the table and, as cliche as it was, she felt a jolt of something shoot down her spine as she quickly pulled her hand away. It was easy for Natalia to ignore the feeling as she watched him make matters worse. She tried to hide it, however, she couldn’t help but grimace as she moved her bag away from the table, slipping it over her head in an effort to avoid him sweeping coffee inside it.

She shook her head at his apology and reached for another handful of napkins. “It’s okay,” she sighed, not wanting to be rude even though she knew she’d have to take time she was planning on using to write to go home and change before class, “at least it was iced coffee.” She tossed the soaked napkins into the trash and bent down to pick up the ice cubes and cup from the ground. “What happened, anyway?”

“He tripped,” the shorter, dark-haired man informed her before he took a sip of his coffee. He still looked amused, positively delighted as he watched his friend struggle to find the right words to say, and Natalia bit back a laugh as she realized everyone had a friend like him.

“I didn’t trip,” the taller man defended with a roll of his eyes, cutting his eyes at his friend before returning his attention to Natalia. He met her eyes sheepishly, the embarrassment softening his features as he explained, “Someone bumped into me on their way in and I, uh…” He trailed off, clearly having planned on saying that he tripped, and dropped his gaze to the floor as Natalia laughed.

“Tripped?” she finished, a smile on her lips despite the situation. When the taller man grimaced, bringing the hand not full of soaked napkins up to rub at the back of his neck, she laughed once more.

“Fine, I tripped,” he acknowledged, “but it wasn’t just being clumsy. Someone really did bump into me.” He gave his explanation more to his friend than to her and she wondered how often he found himself tripping over thin air. He looked solid, like he wouldn’t be the type to trip over his own two feet, but looks could be deceiving and she knew from personal experience how annoying it was to be the clumsy friend.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, a little more sincere in her assurance this time as she offered him a genuine smile. “Nothing spilled on my laptop and it wasn’t boiling so, worst case scenario was avoided. I think I’ll just not sit near the door next time, though.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good call,” he agreed. His lips were quirked in a smile, grateful that she wasn’t yelling at him, and he still held the soaked napkins in his hands. “I still feel bad, though. Can I make it up to you; buy you a coffee or something?” he asked, a hopeful lilt to her voice that told her he wasn’t just looking to make up for spilling coffee on her.

As much as it pained her to turn him down - and it hurt quite a bit as she found him to be beautiful, even in basketball shorts and a t-shirt - she didn’t have time. “That would be great,” she began, a rueful smile on her lips as she grabbed her laptop and slid it into her bag, “but I have to run. I need to go get changed before class. It’s really okay, though. No big deal.”

She didn’t miss the nudge his friend gave him and raised an eyebrow as she watched him swat at his friend’s elbow. “I, uh, how about dinner, then?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. 

He looked so earnest, his skin still tinted pink and his eyes wide, and she felt a giddy excitement bubble in the pit of her stomach. He was gorgeous, the kind of guy she never imagined would be interested in her, and she wanted to give him a chance. She didn’t know him, didn’t know if that chance would turn into a disaster, but she found herself wanting to take that risk.

“I have class until ten tonight,” she told him, biting back a coo when his face dropped at what he assumed was her rejection, “but if you tell me your name, I think I could free up my Friday night for dinner.”

He blinked, surprised at how her sentence ended, and smiled at her. He had a unique smile, his teeth on full display and tongue pressed to the back of them, and his eyes brightened as he nodded his agreement. “Right, yeah. Luke,” he introduced, moving to offer her his hand before realizing he still held the wad of napkins. “This meeting isn’t really going that well, huh?”

“I’d say it went south when you dumped coffee on her,” the friend commented, not even bothering to hide his grin as he watched the interaction unfold before him. “All downhill from there, mate.”

“I’m Natalia,” she introduced, pointedly ignoring his friend’s comment with an amused glance in his direction. “I’ve had worse first meetings, don’t worry. My freshman year roommate opened a door on me and gave me a concussion. You just stained a dress.”

“Oddly, that makes me feel better about this, thanks,” Luke laughed as he reached out and dropped the napkins into the garbage. “Can I get your number? That way you can go change now and we can make plans later,” he clarified, smiling at her as he offered her his cellphone to put her number in.

She felt Luke’s gaze on her as she put her number into his phone and she offered him a smile as she handed the device back. “I have one request for Friday,” she told him as she grabbed her own phone from the table and grinned at the text he sent her with his name, “no tables near the entrance.” Luke laughed at her request, a sound that she found endearing, and Natalia grinned at him. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“See you on Friday,” he confirmed, grinning as he watched her step around him.

Natalia and Luke maintained eye contact for a moment, each giddy and grinning as they felt the butterflies of something new on the horizon, before Natalia bumped into something solid on her way out and made a face before quickly turning to apologize. She tossed Luke a wave over her shoulder, her own cheeks burning in embarrassment, as she heard his friend mumble, “Wow, she’s perfect for you.”

As she stepped out into the world once more, she grinned at the encounter. It made her lose an hour of writing time - and ruined her favorite dress - but maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. She’d been single for years and hadn’t had any luck with dating apps. She knew that a boyfriend wasn’t the most necessary thing in her life, however, it might be nice to be the girl with a date for once. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Luke was gorgeous.

Whatever the future held for them, she found herself looking forward to it. 

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: If I try to start another series, someone fight me. Like, actually, genuinely fight me. I’m focusing on Rose Tattoo, These Violent Delights, and this. (And MF if I get inspiration but those updates are more sporadic, never meant to be regular, sorry. :() I want to write a few one shots but they’ll likely be shorter and just fun, you know? Not super plot heavy. I may or may not update the next chapter of this sooner than a week because this is kind of short. But, hey, I’ve got all the time in the world because after I defend next week, I’m done with grad school and that’s mildly terrifying. Anyway.  Here we go.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijustreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle, @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985 , @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @old-zeppelin-shirt , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany , @sunnysidesblog​ , @333-xx​

[daeunhye]

How would Chel teach SF9 Bahasa Indonesia?

Note: this is not real yorobun~ this is purely my imagination because i honestly miss teaching foreigners and learning together with them :(

I'm not a teacher or professor, I'm just an ordinary person; a student. I have this experience as a teacher/lecturer's assistant in teaching Bahasa Indonesia for foreigners (Bahasa Indonesia Penturur Asing/BIPA).

please excuse me if i made mistakes because i'm struggling with resources and knowledge too hahahaha 🤣

enjoy!!!! ✨

1. Youngbin

At first he was asking me first that he wanted to learn Bahasa Indonesia because he heard that there were a lot of baby fantasies from Indonesia. so we're arranging a 12x meeting (2 times a week, 2,5 hours) and he will use the last 30 minutes to do a live broadcast to present what he learned that day.

I can imagine teaching him in a chill and fun way. He would like to take notes very diligently.

the lessons that i teach him is just like how Indonesians would speak/write usually (this is also because i'm not an expert lol). at the 12th meeting, i'll give him a quiz about everything that he learned. his score would be 75/100 and i'll give him a special gift which is Indonesia's traditional outfit: batik! :D

2. Inseong

Since he's already good in English, he wants to expand his language skill too. so he's asking me to teach him Bahasa Indonesia. lessons with him were also fun and filled with lots of laughter because we're both kinda "struggled" with our own language lol xD same as Youngbin, 12x meeting but with a bonus 6x meeting for an Indonesian song that he will cover so he needs extra lessons to master the pronunciation and the song itself.

At the end, he released the cover and I also gave him a special gift too! Since he loves food, I give him Indonesian traditional snacks. (i give it on the day he recorded the cover so the staffs can enjoy it too~)

3. Jaeyoon

this guy is using the chance to level up his "I Can" series hahahaha XD

other than just teaching him language, he also learned how to make something. such as making and decorating a kite, doing batik, making Indonesian traditional games, and cooking Indonesian food too!

also outside the series, we would do 12x meeting just like the others and i would give him a quiz at the last meeting~

When he completes the series and the lesson, I'm giving him a set of Indonesian traditional ceramic cutlery (tea set).

4. Dawon

He was interested in learning Bahasa Indonesia because he saw a trending topic on Twitter. everytime we're doing a lesson, he's always turning on the live broadcast on his Instagram. He would also ask Fantasy to give suggestions of what he should learn next because we don't have fixed lesson. he also tries various of Indonesian foods like the ones he saw on TV. one day, on his usual vlive broadcast, I surprised him with a quiz. He wasn't prepared but he did his best doing it. he got 77/100 and Fantasy were flooding the comment section praising him and his skill.

as an appreciation (and because i love to spoil everyone too), i give him Ulos (Ulos is the traditional cloth of the Batak people of North Sumatra in Indonesia.)

5. Rowoon

He saw a movie recommendation and turned out it was an Indonesian movie so he asked me to explain the movie for him. He then became interested to learn Bahasa Indonesia. as usual, 12x meetings but without a fixed schedule because he's busy with his drama filming. The lessons are mostly outside the company like a restaurant or cafe. At the end of the lesson, I give him a mini quiz and also some notes for him to learn at home.

lessons with him is super fun! he's full of curiosity but not in annoying way~ he give me the vibe of my thesis advisor but more chilled and of course more handsome~

In our last meeting, we had the final quiz and he decided to turn on live broadcast while doing the quiz. He also accepted challenges from Fantasy such as re-enacting an Indonesian dialogue from a movie, etc.

because i love to spoil everyone with a gift (they've worked hard~ 🥺🥺) so my gift for him is the famous Luwak coffee.

6. Zuho

He just suddenly asks me to give him Bahasa Indonesia lessons because he wants to communicate better with the fans. since he's also a musical genius, i give him the idea of writing a song using some words in Bahasa Indonesia. he was so excited so he announced this news although our lesson hasn't been started 😅

In this case, we mainly focus on the words or sentences or sayings that are commonly used in Indonesia. Just like Dawon, he's doing a live broadcast while doing our lesson and he tries to write the lyrics (with Fantasys help too~).

when the song is complete, he's releasing it on his soundcloud. My gift for him is Indonesian traditional musical instrument: Angklung (Angklung is a traditional music instrument from West Java, Indonesia. Angklung is played by shaking. More info: https://authentic-indonesia.com/blog/5-popular-musical-instruments-of-indonesia/)

7. Yoo Taeyang

Since he's a dancer, I thought he was just interested in dancing. but turns out he wants to learn the language. so he's taking a course in Indonesian traditional dance and also learning Bahasa Indonesia with me. his dance lesson would be on the weekend, but the language lesson with me is set on a flexible schedule with 12x meetings including a mini quiz every end of the meeting and some notes for him to learn at home. In the end, he uploaded a video of him doing the dance and also introducing the dance using Bahasa Indonesia. Bonus: he covered an Indonesian song too!

The gift that i'll give to appreciate his hard work is a set of Beskap (Sundanese traditional clothes, more: https://greatnesia.com/sundanese-traditional-clothing/)

8. Hwiyoung

He read a pickup line comment using Bahasa Indonesia and he wanted to try to learn it. At first he just focused with those pickup lines or funny sayings but as time went by he grew interested to learn more. so he asked me to teach him. our lessons are mostly learning sentences and breaking it down word by word to know the meaning. We don't have any fixed meetings or schedules because he learns when he wants to or if he has time. although our lessons aren't that often, he's showing very good progress and the result is good too! He knows some Indonesian jokes too so he threw it to his members and Fantasy too because he said it's really fun.

in the end i give him a traditional wooden carving figure~

9. Chani

He was clueless because suddenly his members were combining Korean words with Indonesian. this time, i offer him the lessons myself. he excitedly said yes to the offer and prepared a lot just like a formal course 😅 same like Youngbin, i can see Chani is taking notes well and he's passionate in learning new things. and like Rowoon, this boy is also full of curiosities! He's the fun type of student that seems not serious but actually gives his best.as usual, 12x meetings with quiz at the end~ in this case, the quiz is given from the members. so they pick up to 3 questions and I will be combining it all as Chani's final quiz. Surprisingly, he got the highest score which is 80/100. now he can understand what the hyungs are saying hahahahah 🤣 I'm giving Chani a bracelet made from pearl originally from Lombok. (more about the South-sea Pearl: https://www.thejakartapost.com/travel/2019/03/16/home-to-south-sea-pearls-lombok-encouraged-to-sell-educational-tourism.html)

[heavily-edited]

It's (almost) Good Riddance

Last night I was awaken around midnight with an eerie feeling. It was like a rush of intense nostalgia. Maybe I just miss social interactions. Or was it anxiety?

Just like anyone else, this quarantine makes me feel more lonely than ever. But let me be selfish for a second to talk about stuffs that had been on my mind for sometime now. In the beginning of April, all of my friends had planned their trip home due to the outbreak. By the end of the month, everyone had left. And by everyone, i mean it as in all my college friends, my dorm neighbors, even the whole neighborhood. I am, however, still here.

Currently I'm living in a city thousand kilometers away from home, for college. I was supposed to graduate this very semester, and I had planned everything to finish my thesis before Ramadan (which is right now, by the way). Have I graduated? Well no. Then the outbreak happened. When my friend's Seminar Proposal was cancelled and replaced with online seminar, I swear had the thought of going home immediately. "Maybe if I pack up my stuffs right now, I can leave and finish everything there," had I thought. But the more I think about going home, the more anxious I get. There are several reasons why:

My home is not a healthy environment for me to do my thesis. I can barely breathe when my parents left the house for work, so I can only imagine how it'll be like when we're stuck together 24/7. It's just not a choice.

I have a very little personal space there, and at a time like this, a personal and safe space is very much needed for my mental well-being.

I haven't prepared to leave my dorm, and packing takes quite a long time. If I had left then, I still have to go back here to finish moving out. That will absolutely cost more money, and hell no. I had spent enough my parents' money.

They didn't even care enough or want me back there anyway (or I assume, but most likely true).

After all considerations, I decided to stay put. It was going well, it really was. I'm not a very outdoor person anyway. Everyday was sorta feels normal, even. Alone in my room, I binged old episodes of Bon Appétit Test Kitchen. I listened to albums that I always wanted to listen before. I ordered pesenkopi for three days straight. I got ghosted by my thesis supervisor. You know, all the things other people do to deal with this quarantine. Then, about two weeks ago, I booked a flight to Bandung. It was very spontaneous. I called my mom the night before, telling her I wanted to come home. I ran her the details, say my reasons (not that they care anyway in the first place), then my mind was set: I am ready to go home.

When I decided to go home, it was more like I decide to finally leave Malang. I meant it. Like, I don't ever wanna go back to this city for academic business. Enough of Malang, this phase of my life is over. I had my time grieving about wanting a closure, for I LOVE a good farewell. But whatever, I'm living in a pandemic for fuck sake! Like literal global phenomenon. People will talk and write about this event like the scarlet fever on Litte Women (RIP Beth March). There's no time to think about good riddance and goodbye. So I started to pack up my stuffs. Bought a cardboard box to send some of them through the mail. All of that, you know. My drawer is almost empty by now. But the drama had just started.

It was Thursday night when I heard the government issued a travel ban (or is it? is it the right term?). Anyway, it means that all commercial flights are cancelled from April 24 until June. My flight was on April 27. I was livid. Like seriously, just now? I mean I totally agree with the decision. I don't wanna sound like an uninformed brat who doesn't understand the current situation, I just wished they had planned this way earlier. I was frustrated because I am who I am, you know. If you knew me you know how much I get intensely overwhelmed when things doesn't go as I planned. Totally frantic. Once again I feel like I lost control of my life, and I don't like it.

But it's all alright now. I calmed down, found the grip of reality again. I feel like I already mastered the art of 'fake it til you make it' coping mechanism. It's all inevitable, and as I keep telling myself, I am actually living in a middle of serious pandemic. More things won't make any sense in the future, and this was only my rehearsal. I am still leaving this room on Monday, though. For now, I am gonna stay with my relatives until God knows when. It has to be done and then I will have my goodbye with this room, the one I refer to as a safe haven for four years. I've never had such freedom before moving here. And for this, I am truly grateful.

Be good, everyone. Keep yourself sane. All is well.

[veroticker]

One moment please - Amy Daws

You can buy the book on Amazon.

Summary (from Amy Daws’s website)

That awkward moment when an ER doctor has to inform you that you’re pregnant…with his baby.

Three things Lynsey Jones knows about the hot doctor: he’s grouchy, an arrogant jerk, and strangely obsessed with pie.

Three things Dr. Dick knows: he doesn’t talk about his past, he doesn’t do relationships, and the crazy girl in the hospital cafeteria who ate a fistful of French silk pie…is annoyingly irresistible.

After a chance meetup at a bar and a heated cab ride together, things come to a head and now instead of hating each other, they’re horizontal in a bed.

Three months later, the weird cafeteria stalker who crept out of Dr. Dick’s house like a thief in the night, winds up as his patient in the ER after her Tinder date from hell.

Dr. Dick is prepared to keep it cool and professional. That is until her bloodwork reveals that she’s pregnant.

What really throws him for a loop…is the surprise baby…is his.

Blurb

““Holy dip on a carrot, I did it!” I squeal softly to myself as I finish the edits on the last line of my thesis and click save nineteen times. After nearly three months of killing myself and creeping into this hospital cafeteria to work because I couldn’t seem to write this godforsaken paper anywhere else, I have finally completed my master’s thesis.

Dip on allll the carrots!

Intense, sweet relief shoots through my veins. I could stand on my chair and blast light from my fingertips. Instead, like the mature graduate I’m on my way to becoming, I sit back and bask in my achievement while observing my fellow cafeteria diners. These people have unknowingly kept me company as I’ve suffered through this paper. And I never would have had the guts to come here to work if it weren’t for Kate.

With a grin, I pull my phone out of my laptop bag and type out a quick text.

Me: I did it. I finished.

Kate: Aww, see? I told you if you used the bigger attachment on your vibrator, you’d climax quicker.

Me: I’m not talking about masturbation, you perv.

Kate: Perv? You say that like it’s a bad thing! Don’t you realize that being called a perv is basically a compliment to an erotic romance novelist? Actually, you’ve just inspired me to get it embossed on my business cards.

Me: I’m talking about my thesis. I finally finished!

Kate: Holy shitballs…congratulations! That’s better than an orgasm!

Me: I know, right?

Kate: And let me guess, you’re at the hospital cafeteria again?

Me: I’m embarrassed to admit it, but yes.

Kate: I told you not to feel bad about writing where the words flow. My smutty words flow at a tire shop waiting room, and yours flow at a hospital cafeteria. We’re productive millennials, Lyns! Which is more than I can say for the rest of our generation. You totally owe me a fruity beverage, by the way.

Me: That’s exactly what I was thinking! Hang at my tiki bar tonight?

Kate: Can’t tonight. Miles put a roast in the crockpot, and he’s embarrassingly proud of himself about it.

Me: That sounds so domestic and boring. How is cohabitating with your lover going, by the way? It’s only been a week since you moved out & I already miss my best friend. My tiki bar is sad too!

Kate: I miss you too! But I’m getting sex on the reg now, so I have to admit, I don’t miss you that much.

Me: You’re disgusting. I hate your happiness.

Kate: That’s because you need sex! Call Dean and make him be your wingman tonight. Get out of your house and away from the tiki bar to celebrate this achievement. It’s about time you were wooed by something other than a fruity beverage and the Womanizer Pro40.

Me: You’re the worst.

Kate: Later, whore

Me: Later, perv”

(review under the cut)

Review

(audiobook) How do you deal with a painful past? Either you build on it, you build yourself a future, a career; or you let it consume you, break you. Being optimistic--some may even say naive--Lynsey chose the first path. And she’s going to work hard to save Josh from his .

After that kind of summary, you must imagine that One moment please is angsty. It isn’t. Sure, there are some sad elements--there’s no romance without a bit of drama. But this book is mostly funny, and sexy, and full of love. It’s a romcom!

I found the characters interesting, the woman in her late twenties always finding hope where there was none, and the man who keeps to himself and whom love changes. The talented narrators gave them life in the audiobook, and it was brilliant.

It was my first book by Amy Daws, and it won’t be my last. With or without audio.

Quickie

Series: Wait with me #3 (but can be read as a standalone)

Hashtags: #doctor romance #romcom #surprise pregnancy

Triggers: lots of talk about sick children

Main couple: Lynsey Jones & Josh Richardson

Hotness: 5/5

Romance: 5/5

+ Lynsey never gives up--anything nor anyone

- it ends...

Stalker mode

You can suscribe to Amy Daws’s newsletter on her website.

You can also follow her on Facebook.

[key-smut]

Kibum the Professor

Yeh it’s been a while but here you go~

Warnings: Smut after the cut so don’t continue reading if you’re uncomfortable with that

Tags: Professor AU, fluff, smut, side!jongtaeki

Thank you so much @minghaoluvr8 for beta reading it ^^

“Stop starring he’ll notice if you can’t get your eyes under control.” Your friend and roommate Taemin interrupted your thoughts while you were staring at your professor.

“I’m not staring I’m concentrating on the lecture.”

“I’m sure you are. Because society is sooo interesting. I’m not blaming you. If I had the chance I’d tap that ass.”

“TAEMIN!” you hissed in his direction some of the people in class turning around. “Just for your information; i actually DO enjoy social studies. If you haven’t forgotten, I wanna write my bachelors degree about how our society is being impacted by-“

“Sure, sure.” he interrupted, “ Whatever, but you have to admit that professor Kim is very attractive.” Taemin was right. Professor Kim was everything anyone would ever want: he was handsome, smart and charismatic. He would first catch everyone’s attention by the way he dressed and then capture everyone with his looks and personality.

“Yeah you’re not wrong. He’s the full package.”

“He sure has a big package.”

“FRANCESCO!”

When class was finally over and you were getting ready to leave you heard your name: “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Professor Kim said. “Uh oh, someone’s in trouble. I’m jealous.” Taemin teased.

“See you later Taemin.” With that he left the classroom and you and the professor were alone.

“Professor Kim if this is about me being loud in class I sincerely apologize-“

“No. I mean kind of.”

“Please don’t sue Taemin for sexual harassment.” He laughed, “I won’t but, please listen. I would like to talk about your thesis if you don’t mind? Maybe at a cafe whenever you’re free? As you know I’ve been working on my masters in education since I’m not a real professor yet, and I think I could help you out with your bachelors thesis. Our subjects are kind of similar and I have lots of sources that could be helpful for you.”

With that it began. You started meeting up at Cafés as you were both working on your papers. Today you were sitting at a Café close to your campus. Kibum was as stylish as ever, wearing the classical young professor look, except he made it look modern and fresh. You looked up from your notes and saw him smiling at you.

“Stop flirting with me or I’ll get fired.”

“I didn’t say anything? And last time I checked you were the one flirting with me, Kibum. Besides maybe I wouldn’t mind it if you’d get fired?”

“You would surely miss looking at my ass.” Kibum answered quickly. You choked on the ice tea you were drinking.

“I-“ you stumbled, trying to make up an excuse. He chuckled at how quickly you were flustered.

“I was just kidding, but your face tells me I was right. So maybe I will get fired.” You’d lie if you’d say that you didn’t want anything more from this relationship but he was right. If they’d get caught he’d get fired and you could never live with that.

“Listen Kibum. I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I guess you already know. I really like you and I’m trying hard to control myself since I’m your student, and this can’t happen.” Kibum looked at you smiling.

“Yeah I know. And I’ve been having feelings for you too. But as you said it can’t happen. At least, not now.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were staying in your position until at least the end of the year?”

“Yeah but I’ve checked out my courses for next semester and I won’t be teaching the social studies course anymore, meaning that I won’t teach you anymore.” He hinted.

“For real? That’s great! I mean. Not really since I’ll miss you as my professor but... yeah. To be honest... I’ve never been more exited for a semester to end.” You smiled at Kibum, him grinning back. “Me neither.”

Back at home you were happily sitting on your couch looking at your phone when Taemin came in.

“Oh my god are you texting him again? Wait why are you smiling so much? Did he finally fuck you on his desk?” You rolled your eyes at his comment while he was sitting down next to you.

“No Taemin there is nothing to be jealous about.” you retorted

“I’m not jealous. I’ve been talking to someone myself and I’m pretty satisfied. Can’t say the same for you or can I?” He checked your body from your head to your feet. “Hmm can you get me some water please?”

“Why can’t you get it yourself?” you complained.

“I just sat down and I’m tired.” he whined.

“Whatever.” You got up to get him some water but got interrupted after two steps.

“Wait it’s fine, you can sit down again.”

“Taemin what the hell.” you weren’t sure where he was going with this.

“Watch your words young lady! I was just checking on something. But, I guess ya’ll either really didn’t fuck yet, or he got no game.” he joked, a dumb grin on his face when you hit him with a pillow.

The semester finally ended and between all the exams, you were barely able to meet with Kibum. Today was the last day of the semester and you had decided to eat at his place for your first official date. When he opened his door you were not surprised at how chic his apartment was decorated. It was essentially simplistic and modern; except it had many decorations that reflected his personality perfectly: from the Disney figures, to his Union Jack refrigerator it perfectly displayed his individuality. You were greeted by his smile, and his two dogs. After you greeted the dogs you looked at him. He was wearing a simple light blue shirt and glasses you had never seen before.

“You wear glasses?”

“Oh yeah I forgot about them. I usually just wear them at home.” He hurriedly took them off to put them away.

“Oh please don’t, you look really cute with them.”

He blushed slightly. “Maybe I don’t wanna look cute. Maybe I wanna look mysterious and sexy.”

“That shirt and your tight pants are already doing that job for you. They accentuate your shoulders to hip ratio very well.” you complimented. He did look really good, it was almost illegal.

“Well if that’s the case maybe we should skip dinner and go straight to bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

“You sure are straightforward. But, you kept bragging about your cooking skills, and now I wanna try the food you made.” there was a playful tone to your voice.

“Alright we have all summer break to have fun now, anyways.”

He had made a delicious chicken curry with a side of mashed potatoes instead of traditional rice and served Panna Cotta with mango sauce as dessert.

“Wow that was delicious! What can’t you do?” your praise making him blush once again.

“I’m pretty bad at baking.” he admitted.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, believe what you want baby girl.”

After the summer break had passed, you decided to visit your now boyfriend in his classroom. He was now teaching 2nd semester students which means he wasn’t teaching you anymore, since you were in your last year.

“Hey baby, did you finish your class well?” It was noon and most students would be out eating lunch now. “Yes first class went great I let them go earlier since we only had to talk about the syllabus. What about you, honey? Are you finished for today?”

“Yeah, I’m finished and exhausted already although it’s just the first day. I miss seeing you as my professor” You pouted. He took your hands and pulled you closer. “I miss you too baby. Maybe I should help relax you a bit then?” He took you by your hips and sat you on his desk.

“What exactly are we doing?” You asked, fully knowing what was going to happen. He came close to you and gave you a slow and deep kiss. You observed him, as he parted from you to walk over to the door. He stoped and turned around to look at you.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, professor.” He locked the door and walked towards you undoing his tie.

“You don’t know how often I’ve dreamed about this.” He stepped closer until he was standing between your legs, you sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Probably at least as often as I have, Kibum.” He came closer again connecting your lips as he put his hands on your thighs to pull himself closer. He moved up from your lips to your ear and nibbled a bit on the lobe, just to move back down to your collarbones. He sucked on the underside of your collarbone until a mark was blooming. You let out a small moan when he liked the mark.

“Take off your shirt.” You took off your shirt and started unbuttoning his as well while his hand slowly made its way under your skirt to your panties.

“You’re wearing a skirt at the perfect time.”

“One could say that I had all this planned out.” You grinned at him, taking off your bra while he was unbuckling his pants. “Lay down baby girl.” You laid down on the desk while he positioned himself between your legs again. He bent down and slowly sucked on your left nipple while pulling down your panties.

“Be quiet. Or I’ll need to punish you.” With that, he put his thumb on your clit and started circling it slowly. You were able to handle that but after the second finger had entered you, your moans started to get louder. “I told you to be quiet, was I not clear enough?”

“Yes, you were. Sorry, professor.” He gave no warning when, suddenly, his head was between your legs. His tongue was doing magic on your clit while his fingers were moving faster and curling inside you.

“Oh god, please, I’m so close. I can’t-“ You let out a high, pitched moan as you reached your orgasm while he was lapping up all your mess. He stood up again, his lips glistening from your juices. You watched him as he licked his lips. “Lick my fingers clean, and prepare for your punishment. If anyone has heard you, you better get ready for when we’re home.” Opening your mouth, you took in his fingers, sucking on them while looking up in his face. “Now we gotta do something about those beautiful noises of yours.” Kibum took his tie and put it in your mouth, making you bite on it and tied it behind your head. “First punishment: you won’t suck my dick. At least for now. Don’t give me those eyes, I know you want it but, a punishment is a punishment. Besides, it’s hard on me too. Second punishment: you won’t be able to noisy anymore. Third punishment comes now. Turn around.” You turned around, laying on your stomach now, when you felt the first sharp slap on your ass. A moan muffled by the tie came out of your mouth. “This is a punishment, it’s not for your pleasure. Why are you moaning?” His hand met your ass for another couple of times until it was stinging and tinted red. You heard him pulling down his pants and boxers, then you felt his hard cock between your legs.

“Please...” Your muffled plead didn’t go unnoticed. “Someone’s impatient, relatable.” With that he slowly entered you, grabbing you by your hips. You felt yourself being filled and he didn’t stop until he was fully in you. “How are you still so tight? We’ve been fucking all summer!” Kibum started pulling out and pushing in again at a steady pace, getting faster and faster, holding on to your hips harder; you knew it would bruise.

“Oh, fuck.” He let out a moan and started playing with your clit again, while hitting your spot at the same time. “Cum, baby girl.” The second he said it, you came undone seeing white stars your mind going blank. Kibum hit his high just shortly after with another deep moan, as you felt his cum filling you up. He pulled out his cock and you felt his cum leaking out of you dripping down your thighs were a tongue started to lick it up. You turned around and took

off the tie just to be met by Kibum’s lips. He pushed his cum into your mouth with his tongue, causing you to moan into the kiss. Your lips parted, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting your mouths.

“We just finished, but I wanna go again.” You smiled. “Baby girl, lunch time is almost over. We need to leave first and then we can do whatever we want.”

At home you saw Taemin laying on the couch as you walked by.

“There hasn’t been a day now that I’ve seen you not limp. If you two,” he pointed at Kibum “especially you, don’t get yourself under control, she is going to end up needing a new hip sooner than later. Haven’t you gotten tired of it after summer break?”

“Taemin look who’s talking, huh? I’ve heard you many nights having fun with that musician kid and that theatre guy and I said nothing.” you bit back playfully.

“Yeah but we’re interesting. I don’t get straights.”

“Who said we were straight?” Kibum remarked. Taemin looked at Kibum dead in the eye for a minute until he turned looking at you “Alright, I like him, he’s approved. Now watch a movie with me I’m bored.” he whined, you knew that they’d get along just fine.

[thestraggletag]

A bit of an update

This is super sad and mopey so it goes under the cut.

Some might have noticed I’ve been MIA lately and there’s a reason why. Basically I’m going through a major depressive episode, have been since June. I’ve tried to shrug it off but I can’t deny even the simplest of tasks sometimes seems impossible and it takes me forever to “get moving”, if you know what I mean. Thankfully my depression has somehow never caused me major problems at work and in taking care of myself (I know there are people who can find it extremely difficult to get up in the morning to go to work or even shower), but it’s definitely made things not fun.

Basically on June I was let go in one of the schools I worked at, for knitting in class while one last student finished her test. It was roughly ten minutes and the student in question was getting nervous that I kept looking at her (it happens very often, so I always try to do something else, but I had already graded all the papers I had and gone through the textbook to prepare for future classes). I was knitting something for another school (one of those “everyone donate a knitted square to make blankets for people” thing, only we were gonna do the Argentine flag) and had brought it with me for the train ride. So I knitted, to kinda make the student feel like my attention was not all on her. And the week after I was called in to tell me that “did not fit the image of the school” and that the school board had voted to fire me.

I regret that right when I was told this I apologised, said that I hadn’t thought that it would be inappropriate and that I should have checked. This is true and I still feel that way, but my first thought should have been “How on Earth is this a fireable offence, WTF????” I was a hard-working, responsible teacher. I woke up super early on the days I had to go to this school because the train I used to get there was undergoing repairs (the tracks) so sometimes service was not on time. I’d rather be early, I reasoned. I turned in my grades on time, was always up for extra tutoring and didn’t half-ass my classes. And I was fired. For knitting. And my first response, what came out of my mouth, was to apologise.

I haven’t been able to get more teaching hours, but I do work at two other schools. So I figured... yeah, money’s gonna be tight. I’m saving up for a trip to Europe, my first vacation in 4 years (and I mean that, I haven’t even spent like a weekend away from the city in 4 years, I don’t mean “first major vacation in a while”) and it’s gonna be tight, but not impossible. I already knew the free time was gonna be a problem (that’s what the depression wants, time where I don’t have obligations and can just wallow and feel bad without motivation to just power through and DO something) but I was determined to move past it.

But then everything got worse. My country has been recovering from 12 years of economic mismanagement. It looked at first like things were gonna be better than we thought but then the international context turned against us (it’s gotta do with Turkey, emerging economies and fucking Trump, I swear to God I’m sick of paying for something I had no say in) and the Argentine currency lost, between May and now, half its value. So all my savings for that Europe trip? Half of that is gone now. And inflation is reaching 40% this year, even though the salary adjustment I received this year to “compensate” for it was 15%. I’ve already paid for my plane ticket, so there is no cancelling the trip. I’m just trying to save up whatever little bit I can every month, even though it looks like things are about to get much more expensive (bills, groceries and so on).

So now it looks like everything just fucking sucks. There’s a real chance this government won’t survive till elections next year, which could potentially place those responsible for the crisis in power (they’re really good at creating the crisis then painting themselves as the only ones able to solve it). Which kinda means things are gonna get ugly, and money’s gonna become a real problem very soon for me. I hope to get teaching hours, but usually teachers are hired right before or after summer, and it’s difficult to find a position that will be able to work with the hours I do actually already have taken. So that’s been fun.

I had been hoping to at least write or start on my masters thesis (which at this point it’s just another worry, instead of a positive way to fill my free time) but I can’t. And I keep thinking about how great the beginning of 2018 was, and how for the first time in my life I had real disposable income and things weren’t so tight and... Ugh, it just makes things worse.

So that’s why I haven’t been around. I’ve missed you guys, and tumblr, and I’m gonna try to be around more because it does me good, and I need to try and do stuff, no matter how much it costs. Sorry if I bummed you out but the truth is I haven’t really told anyone about this, so it kinda feels nice to vent out a bit. Thanks for reading this super-long post and I hope the rest of 2018 is better than whatever this middle clusterfuck has been.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Hi. This is sort of random and I don’t know if you do these kind of asks but I’m in the final year of my Bachelor’s degree and am thinking of applying for a Masters next year. I’m feeling a bit nervous and stressed out about it. I don’t know if I could handle the workload, I’m worried I won’t get accepted or if I do get accepted, I’m worried I might not be able to finish it. It’s a bit mysterious and honestly I don’t even know what it would be like. Could you tell me a bit more about your experience doing your Masters? We’re studying different things in different countries (I think, I’m in the UK), but I would like to know what the main differences are between doing a Bachelors and Masters, if it was hard to get used to or catch up with the teaching, whether professors treat you differently, what it was like writing your dissertation/research project (if you did that), etc. Does it take up all your time and leave you with no social life? I have depression, and some days it’s hard to even get out of bed. I barely scraped through my second year; my grades slipped with the lockdown worsening my mental health (I didn’t fail but you can see the dip in some of the modules) and I don’t know if I could cope with all the work next year (that is if I do get accepted). If you could answer some of these questions I would really appreciate it. Thank you 🥺🙏😭

The thing is that Master's programs vary a lot based on what the degree is actually in, and the university where it's being offered. My experience might not translate to yours, so keep that in mind. That said, I'll answer everything. I'm putting this under a cut because it got long:

So, I was in an accelerated program, meaning that I began to take graduate classes while I was in the spring semester of third year of my Bachelor's. I wasn't significantly more stressed once I took on those classes because I'd already taken the bulk of the requirements for my undergrad. I took one grad class per semester for two semesters in my Bachelor's, before I took two during my final semester of undergrad. Once I was fully in my grad program, I took 3 classes per semester. Honestly, I thought undergrad was more aggravating and stressful. I found that only three classes per semester were a lot easier to keep up with, despite the work being a little more intense, because I thought it was easier to stay on top of 3 syllabi as opposed to the ~5 I'd have during a typical undergrad semester. Besides, grad school couldn't compare to the trauma of my undergrad Japanese language class lmao. Those 4 semesters were brutal and everything seemed easy in comparison. My professors were pretty nice and a lot more chill than my Japanese professor lol, so they didn't really bother me. I was quiet in college, so my professors never had a problem with me. Since I went to the same place for my Master's as I did my Bachelor's, I didn't notice a significant change in my lifestyle as a student.

I do think there's more independent reading required in grad school, so you have to prepare for that. If you have a problem with deadlines, grad school will be tough; I'm just someone who never turned in anything late. Literally, I think I turned in fewer than 3 assignments late in my whole life because that's just how my brain is wired. If you're someone who can consistently turn in assignments on time, that's half the battle. If not, you'll struggle. But I found that there was less bullshit in grad school compared to undergrad. With my Bachelor's I had to take so many stupid electives I didn't give a shit about just because my university required like 30 non-major credits, and I was frustrated because I felt like my time was being wasted and I was stressing over syllabi for no real reason. In grad school, it's a lot more focused.

I didn't have a dissertation or thesis; I had a comprehensive exam at the end of my program. That sucked lol. It was a 10-question essay exam over the course of 5 hours. I was given access to the questions from previous exams and study guides from previous students, which were tremendously helpful, and I studied and answered practice questions almost every night for a month and a half straight. That was really tough. That was my only class/requirement, however, so I was able to dedicate all of my time to the exam. I passed, but if I'd put off studying, I definitely wouldn't have just because of how my specific exam was designed.

Now onto mental health stuff. I'll be real with you: I'm one of those people who benefited from the lockdown. I've always enjoyed working alone, so I didn't really miss classroom discussions and actually loved not having to commute to and from campus every day anymore. All of my classes were asynchronous and I felt my mental health improve because I was able to pace myself, my schedule, and have a lot more time for my hobbies. College was far worse for me in undergrad, and it honestly had some of the worst years of my life lol. I didn't make a single friend on campus until the end of year two, and I found being on campus with no friends incredibly depressing and isolating. Going into lockdown took that away, you know what I mean? You can't feel lonely if everyone is alone :'D Plus, since I'm such an independent worker, I wasn't hurt by everything going online since I was able to keep up with all of the material and deadlines pretty well. So, if your grades and mental health suffered during the pandemic, I completely understand, but that wasn't my situation. I enjoyed staying home. Since most of grad school was online during the pandemic, too, I can't say it took up all of my social life since I couldn't have a social life lmao. I was/am very strict with lockdown and social distancing, so it's not like grad school kept me from seeing my friends. But since there are typically fewer classes in grad school, anyway, you might find more time for your personal life. It really depends on the program and requirements.

tl;dr: you do need perseverance and the ability to meet deadlines in grad school. There's typically less margin for error (I think I couldn't get more than a couple B- in my program?), but it doesn't have to be terrifying. It's difficult to advise you since these things can vary so much, as I've said. But this is what college was like for me 🤷 I hope this helps in any way. If your depression is that debilitating, I do recommend going to whatever disability resource center is available at the university to get appropriate accommodations, if that's a thing over there. That can help a lot and there's no shame in it. My mom is a professor and receives letters informing her that students need accommodations on assignments and deadlines all the time.

[mirrorballwhoistrying]

A Week Pre-graduation (18.07.21)

Hey it’s me again! What an achievement that I’m not going to coffee shop this weekend. It’s been just 2 weeks since I last wrote an article. I don’t I’m just feeling like writing today. I hope to write shorter article and more often? In a way, it forces me to think clearer about a lot of things.

I’m getting closer and closer to finish my Bachelor’s Degree. (or am I?) Last week mock presentation I didn’t do super well. I spent like 32 minutes for the whole process which is far from the 20 minutes time limit. I didn’t get a wholesome compliments from lecturers. I hate myself on how I could watch my docudrama video at one point and be so excited about it and one day I’d watch the same thing again and all I want to be is to scrap everything feeling it’s too awful. 

But is that what most matter? Next Friday, it’d be the end for real. I can’t believe I’d be finishing my Bachelor’s Degree at home through MS. Team and probably in my pajamas. I don’t know how it’s going to be, but I feel it spiritually that there will be a whole new level of challenges after that point. I’ve been using my thesis as a scaring thing for myself that past couple of months. What would I become after that point? 

I’m still trying to process my life after graduation. I’ve been waiting for this point of my life for so long that when it’s finally here, I don’t know what to make it out of it. 

I used to think that my Bachelor’s Degree or school was holding me back from a lot of things in life. But it didn’t stop me to do a lot things that I feared of. Now that I’m really “free”, what would I choose to do in life when my choices were indefinite? Working 9-5 for the rest of my life? continue my master degree? I wish I had that recklessness in my late teenage years again. 

I’m still trying to process that I’m failing YSEALI again. This time I didn’t even get a response that my application was considered. Was it worth it that I put my efforts into my thesis that I missed the YSEALI? I could do both if I could manage time better or spent most of the time trapped in my head. It’s another day of failure and feeling insecure and not good enough being at my age. 

But I heard a quote online and it was definitely right. You had no right to feel bad or regret from failing the thing you didn’t put efforts into. I reap what I sow. I didn’t prioritize it and I don’t get it. It’s the lesson that life teaches me again and again. Nothing came naturally. Everything is about persistent and hard-work. At work I finally initiated 2 new internal projects. The sharing session and Tik Tok. The first sharing session happened last Thursday. I wasn’t well-prepared and turned out quite bad. But at least I’m great it finally happens. 

We’ve been drafting Tik Tok plan for awhile and it’s finally happening this next week. I hate myself because it’s always the full of hope and excitement at the start and a spiraling of urge to self-sabotage later. 

I don’t know how it turns out but I’m glad there’s some new progress happening. It’s been almost a year since I came back and I promised myself to reevaluate after these 12 months. I used the lockdown and my thesis as an excuse this time again. Some of my senior workers are resigning soon. It feels kind of lonely. I’d give myself time again until the end of the year. 

I don’t want to hold on to this comforting place forever. It feels like I’m too comfortable that I stop thriving and growing. There are tons of internal projects I haven’t grasped on to make it happen. 

It feels like this period of languishing is lasting longer than ever. Maybe I can only learn to live with it. The cracks in my childhood is still showing. It feels like I have stopped growing as a person in the last couple of years. 

It’s funny I thought time would heal my wound but no effort put in turned into no progress. I’m still in constant state of making connection with people and ghosting them. I’m still toxic af. I haven’t got a chance to make an appointment for therapy. One moment I feel invincible that I could do anything then another moment I feel like lying on my bed all day. 

I reached out to my high school crush. It was a short conversation and he stopped replying. I didn’t even understand why I was doing that in the first place. To just get some validation? It feels like I can’t hold on to conversation with anyone, let alone any connection. 

It’s me signing off with no progress again. see you again.... 

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Featured Author Interview: Peter Johnson

Tell us about yourself and your books.: When I was a child, People asked "What do you want to do when You grow up". I always said ,"A property tycoon or wealthy business man". When I got to high school, I could not find them in the careers guide books, I could not even find a pathway to Rock star, Movie star, inventor/entrepreneur or even investor. What was going on that everything you can do in life to make serious wealth, has no defined pathway in a careers guide book for school kids. Priest was in there? So you can make a Career out of renouncing money but not make one out of making it? You have to learn a job that pays you money instead of just learning how to make money in the first place. Why couldn't anyone tell me how to make money? That Just proved to me that I could not find my way to wealth doing anything that any of my class mates picked out of that book so I started my own eduction to be happy healthy and wealthy. But i had a problem, you see I really could not read at school and by the time I was in year 10 of my state funded day care and brain washing, I still could not read a page out of a book aloud and have anyone understand what I said!! I was so illiterate at 15 that I remember asking my mate why their was computer parking at the train station! He laughed and it was years before I found out that it was Commuter parking. I actually failed year 10 english and no wonder because I really did not understand the written word at all. I knew that wealthy people write books and the information in these books could not be gotten from any business degree or higher education. The first book out of school that i read was think and grow rich, I forced myself through one page every night for the year that it took me to read it. That was 30 minutes to read the page and 30 minutes to look up all the words in the dictionary. I still could not say most of the words but I read them in my head the same way and I knew what they meant. Now I still can not read aloud very well but I am very good at remembering what I have read. When you spend so much time reading something, you make sure you remember it. My first business was a little successful, I marketed Dominos Pizza stores, I increased sales 300% in 12 weeks at no cost to the 3 stores I promoted before another company stole my idea word for word from my printing company, they even used my artwork. I was young and did not know how to play the game but I trust karma to sort these things out. Sure enough they changed 3 words and one part of the offer which caused their promotion to fail at the other 20 odd stores they promoted. I learned then how important a few words can be to any offer. I then decided to invest $200 a week of my turnover and spend it on my education. As it took so long to read a book I was careful which ones I started to read. I committed on faith to do at least one thing out of each book, like it or not, that is what I did. I also went to a lot of seminars, at least 2 free ones a week and some paid ones. If i did not have the money for the seminar I would sell something I owned or put it on my visa but I knew I had to get the information fast. Things were a bit slow when I was 23 and nothing big had happened yet. I had read the books but something was missing. I decided to get some professional advice and I got one of the best financial planners in Brisbane to come a talk to me ($500 per hour, so I thought he would be good) and see if he could steer me in the right direction. Well the first thing he did was ask when I wanted to retire? and i very quickly replied, "At 25 Years old". As this had been my goal since 18 years old and it was still looking doubtful which is why i had called him. He asked how old i was now and then proceeded to tell me that he could not make that plan for me and why it could not be done in just 2 years!.... I did it anyway!. He never billed me for the lack of advise. Then I chanced on a seminar that showed me how to borrow money and this was the last bit of the puzzle that was missing, I then proceeded to buy my first house. Then I brought my second house at 24 and my 3rd 6months later and my 4th house at 25 years old. Now a rising tide floats all boats and so my business was the largest contracting business in my industry by volume of work and my share portfolio was make cash on cash. Now I had just made 1000 000 dollars in real-estate in 2 years not to mention my other investments, so I retired. I did not from life but from working for money. People say why didn’t you keep making money and I would have a lot more money if I had stayed in the game. However my parents were retiring and they had less money than me, so that’s what I did! I was very used to being the youngest person in the room but when I retired I was the only person in the room. I went on a world trip and a cruise ship 1/2 way around the world and found out that no one my age does that! My wife and I were constantly being asked to get old people drinks and we were the only people in the night club after 10pm!! So I decided that more young people need to know this stuff. Why wait till your old to enjoy your life? Now of course life happens to everyone, Sometimes it just rains on your parade and now I don't have the same money that I used to have but I have far more wealth. The fact is I gladly swapped all my investments over the next ten years for time with my kids as they grow into fine young men. I was the only Dad in the room most of the time, I was there to take them to and from school and what price is that worth. I spent 10 years working on the happiness side of my life, for my efforts I think I have been rewarded with a great relationship with my kids and my ex wife. Unfortunately my wife and I had to part ways but I still love her and we are still functional parents in the children's life which is another thing that money can not buy. Also If I had stayed at the table and kept my investments I could have been like so many people and lost it all in the GFC anyway. You just never know and after reading my book you might realise that you really just have enough money and you to should work more on one of the other pillars of life. Now I am starting a new chapter in my life and a new business, you can find my on youtube at Pacific Trading Post. I am moving to live in Vietnam in 2020 and start a ethical importation business that is trying to put thought back into global trade. I also have a economics thesis that i am working on but as yet I have not found anyone to supervise my thesis. In fact I sent my thesis question to QUT university and they kindly replied that they had nobody qualified to supervise my proposal. I actually started a masters degree with this sole thesis being the objective of my many hours of brain washing at UNI. I mean I stood up in a lecture when my economics professor said in all seriousness that, "the roll of a economist is to sustainable growth between 3 and 5 %" THATS per annum.... Now I never did do a undergrad degree and so I though maybe I had missed something being that I was accepted straight into a post graduate masters course with QUT. So I asked, "Excuses me sir, can you explain what is sustainable about a compound curve of 3 to 5% ?" ................ He seamed not to understand the question and after class admitted that he did not understand the question. He then referred me to the head of the department. That is when I decided I had better put my thesis question forward because no economics graduate should ever put sustainable and compound growth in the same sentence on a planet of finite resources........ Anyway 300 students in that class will now be out advising politicians and cooperation about financial principles with foundations in their understanding that are clearly wrong and fundamentally flawed. So after they rejected my proposal to research a subject that clearly nobody has much understanding of, I decided I was heading in the wrong direction. If you can help shoot me an email my address is in the book. Well I really hope my book helps someone and if it helps you please leave a comment or review, track me down on facebook and youtube and lets build a better world for everyone. Lastly People often ask me to just tell them how I made money or what I am investing in now but that is like trying to teach someone to swim by talking about it for 10 minutes in a airport lounge.... It can not be done and the person will probably drown if you convince them to jump in a pool without any help. So you should definitely get a mentor in life but almost all the business coaches out there have never been in a pool!!! So be careful who you trust to help steer your ship. I definitely would not rely on someone who is solely a talking head on youtube, it is so easy to rent a nice car, coat and house for a day to make yourself look like something you are not. These are my basic rules to getting advice to be Happy healthy and wealthy (just by the way these three added together = wisdom) - Don't get advice from anyone who has not done what you are trying to do - If you want to be healthy you would not take health tips from a chain smoker and so don't trust your finances to someone who is not worth more than you. - Interview your profesionals, ask your accountant how much money he actually has and how many properties he owns, ask him if he owns his nice car, how much its worth and what he owes on it. if he won't tell you then don't let him near your finances. - Don't trust talking heads that are not prepared to do anything but elude to having money. - If people you love are saying that you are going to loose your shirt, that just means they love you unless they have done exactly what you are trying to do and have been successful at it. - Don't buy products from people who sell information, in other words don't buy investments that your accountant recommends or that the seminar you went to is selling at the back of the room, unless it is more information. MOST IMPORTANTLY - Be a student and not a follower!! you will read 10 books on a subject before you find just 2 people who know what they are talking about. Out of those two you will actually just plain not like one of them and spend most of your time disagreeing with the way they talk to learn anything. So if one out of ten books will teach you something good about a subject you need to read ten books before you will have any idea about that subject. I have never had anyone ask me what ten books I recommend but even if they did the same rules would still apply. So my reading list is in the back of my book if you want a guide. Best Regards Success is a choice, Make it yours today and read this book or read any book. Peter Johnson PS There is so many business seminars now days that tell people to write a book or start coaching people in business when they know nothing about business and often have never run one. They gain credibility by writing a book but I hate authors like that. I am not one of those authors, my ideas are written by me and I have the runs on the board in what I am talking about. What authors have influenced you? James Rohan Do you have any advice for new authors? Being an author at times is a thankless art and when you are finished all your friends will want a copy of your book for free, I find this odd because if I were a painter they would not ask for a free copy of my painting. but it is all worth it when a stranger gets some value from your efforts and takes the time to write a public review. Appreciation unvocalised is worthless and so if you like my book please let me know with a public review. What is the best advice you have ever heard? A book is not finished because you can not put any more into it but because you can not pull more out of it. What's your biggest weakness? Cadbury chocolate .... . and the love of a beautiful woman (I said love, Not S*x) .... not in that order. What is your favorite book of all time? The means and Manor of obtaining virtue What has inspired you and your writing style? I just talk to the page as if the person is in the room and try to make it a conversation by anticipating their questions What are you working on now? Mens Wrongs - a book about how men have to navigate a increasingly complex relationship mind field and why the current system and culture is not making happy relationships What is your method for promoting your work? Facebook mostly What's next for you as a writer? I want to write a thesis on a new economic model that addresses the question Can we have prosperity with negative growth. I have approached QUT about this as a thesis for my masters but they said they had nobody qualified to supervise my subject ?? of course not because the question has never been asked. How well do you work under pressure? Pressure only exists to the extent that you think the value of the outcome is more important than any other value. So if nothing is that important then their is no pressure. Author Websites and Profiles Peter Johnson Amazon Profile Peter Johnson's Social Media Links Facebook Profile Instagram Account Read the full article

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Day 3 &4: Species and Mental State

It was only a matter of time before I was fashonably late for this: Writing Day 3 on Day 4? Really, Crim?? Well, only one thing to do: Write 3 and 4 in one post and pray despite the length it’s interesting. 

Day 3 on my  30 day Challenge:

Talk about your OC’s species and demonym. A demonyn is the name for an inhabitant of a specific place, in this case their planet of birth, such as Tarisian (from Taris) or Mantellian (from Ord Mantell). How do they define their demonym? Do they have one? What influence does it have on their identity?

For Species: Do they have a sense of connection with others of their species? Were they raised with their own species or in a more diverse community? Do they follow any traditions or customs that are species-specific?

For Demonym: Do they feel a sense of connection to their planet of birth? Does the planet’s history and society effect them? Do they follow any traditions or holidays from their home planet?

My species and demonymn. Alrighty then.

My Species:

There is no nice way of saying this: I, a Sith Pureblood, am a mut between species. Yes, there is an oxymoron! A pureblood is a mut. Yet this is a true oxymoron, for a Sith Pureblood isn’t really a true Sith but a mix of Sith and human.

A long time ago, the Sith were a red skinned species native to Korriban. They had their own language, which is still spoken today, their own culture, and their own way of life. Then the fallen, dark Jedi came and subjugated the species. Thanks to Sith alchemy, the two interbred and Sith purebloods came out as a result.

In the Sith Empire, purebloods or tsis in my people’s language, are ones who have the obvious red markings and face tendrils of the Sith species. In many ways, we’re remnants of an ancient past with eyes straining towards the future. 

Now, do I have a sense of connection with any of them? 

This has evolved over the years. When i was a lad, I wanted nothing to do with the Sith part of me. Why would I want anything to do with a people who were abusive; never mind the Force, who seemed to condone the abusive behaviour? In truth, I think that’s why I let intelligence “turn me human” for all intents and purposes.

Yet, here I am writing this as a Force user, and quite content with. Proof the Force works in mysterious ways. I decided to train in the Force after Zakull came. I had to choose between being stubborn, or ensuring Kardeva had a family to come home to after getting out of carbonite. I chose the latter, and in that I feel connection to my people.

 I also feel that connection when I lived with my adopted family. They showed me there are many ways to be Sith. Many of them died when Zakuul, but my brother survived along with most of his fortress. Rebuilding it was hard, as was burying the dead, but we pulled through as a family. I think during that time I felt closest to my Sith ancestry than I ever had. Intense sorrow breeds intense unity and division at the same time. It’s a miracle.

Finally, I raised 3 children who are all tsis. Hard to not feel the connection when raising the next generation. They challenge my understanding of our people, challenge how I conduct myself, and force me to remember what it was like growing up tsis in a good way. And I think I challenge them to not solely stick with the status quo: Only Zeon, my daughter, is training to be a Sith. Ssra is following in my footsteps by spying on Sith Intelligence for the Alliance, and Nwit became a Mandalorian. Tied to a rich history, yet forging our own way ahead. I love my family.

I feel connection to my humanity when I’m with Kardeva and when I’m cooking. Kardeva is human, and I see my humanity reflecting back at me every time I look at him. It’s why I couldn’t rebuild my life, and move on, while he was locked in carbonite. To see such an important part of myself reflected back was too much to so easily walk away from, even if it meant I never get him back. So, Kardeva is my connection to my humanity.

The second one is my cooking. When I was doing infiltration, I found that people say many things while breaking bread. So, I found a way to get trained as a chef so I could eavesdrop while making and serving meals. Most of the dishes I learned to make are geared more toward a human palette, so there is the connection. Now that I’m a part of Alliance Intelligence I combine human and pureblood cooking together. Have to keep both pallets happy at my house.

My Demonym

I’m a Kaasian by birth: Born and raised in Kaas City. I lived there for the first 15 years of life, and off and on in between intelligence missions. It was where I first learned about life, who I am as a man, and where my place was in the Empire. I miss it when I’m away, and feel nostalgia when I return. It is my home.

I think everyone feels a sense of connection to their birthplace, regardless of if it’s a good or bad connection. While family wise, it was a bad connection, in terms of Kaas over all it’s a good connection: I know where all the hang out spots are, know how to get around the Sith Academy there, and I even know where the best place to get photos of the Citadel are!

Does the planet’s history and society affect people who live on Kaas? Short answer: Everything about its history affects everyone! No, that isn’t an exaggeration. Ever since Dromund Kaas was colonized, the focus has always been serving the Emperor and getting revenge on the Republic. 

At the Sith Academy, where all tsis go to learn their basic education and Sith training, I learned what the Republic did to our people at the end of the Great Hyperspace War. I then learned why we needed to train and prepare to go to war as soon as we were of age. Given the war was still going on when I was young, I knew I had little choice on where my destiny lied. My mother and father couldn’t be prouder to see their son  trained as a juggernaut and creating the next generation.

To that end, most of our holidays and celebrations revolved around the Emperor or defeating the Republic: Colonization Day, which used to be the Emperor’s birthday until Empress Acina took over; Kitok Kursas Diena (New Years Day); Katedij Pradzia (Korriban Rises Day), to celebrate the day the Empire took Korriban back from the Republic; birthdays of important Sith like Ajunta Pall, Naga Sadow, Marka Ragnos, and Darth Vitiate; and days where we remember our dead like Visa Virmsezi Arsiasiza (All Hallows Eve), and  Diena iv Liudesys, the Day of Sorrows.

I remember  Diena iv Liudesys the most, since it was one of the few days we had off from school. It was the day the Republic came to Korriban to destroy my people completely and utterly. It both remembers their fate, and strengthened our resolve to make the Jedi and Republic pay. The moment the Republic attacked, Dromund Kaas went silent for 5 min: Everyone simply froze with no sounds or movements. Even droids had to be quiet. If one was driving through the jungle, they had to stop and pray the jungle creatures didn’t notice them. 

I remember thinking about the Great Hyperspace War, and about how somewhere someone in the Republic is patting themselves on the back for being the good guys. The good guys build on the deaths of my people. It made me angry, and made me want to see them destroyed eventually. Now, though, Empress Acina changed the day into  Isatre Vunyi va «Eternal Resolve». Zakuul is the real enemy now, she said to the populace, and we need to focus on them over a battle that happened over 1000 years ago. Smart woman, the Empress, a worthy successor to Darth Marr.

Alright, that’s enough for Day 3. Now for Day 4:

Day 4: Mind Matters

Briefly describe your OC’s mental state. Are they neurotypical or neuroatypical? Do they have any mental illnesses or a history with mental illness? How do they handle stress? Are they Force-sensitive or Force-blind? Does this effect their mental state?

Briefly, hmm? I can understand briefly. One’s mental state can be an entire Master’s thesis if they’re not careful.  I would describe my mental state as...

No.

Caedusios? Why are you here writing?

Because one’s mental state is best assessed from the outside, not within. You would just say you’re mental state is neuro-typical and perfect.  I can give a more accurate assessment. 

And you’re late for your date with Kardeva.

You’re right, I am! Alright, you can write this. All I ask is don’t make me look insane. Wouldn’t want to scare off my new readers...

If you, the readers, haven’t determined he’s not entirely sane then I’m not sure whose blog you were reading. Anyways, I am Darth CAedusios. I am Crimsèn’s adopted older brother. Biologically we’re first cousins: his father and my father are brothers. Because we’re both only children, we grew up together on Kaas as brothers since our families had no where else to go but to one another’s house. 

I have seen Crimsèn grow from being a teenager trying to be who his parents pre-determined into a man relatively content with himself. I can’t say he has grown into a neurotypical man, anymore than I can say he was ever a purely cisgender person. No, his mental state has gone through many gymnastics.

I would say that Crimsèn has a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, and some traits of borderline personality disorder. While he was a social butterfly, and still is in so many ways, he never intuitively understood social ques save mine and my mother and father’s.  Also, Crim is quite obsessive about specific things to the point where he almost refused to do anything but his interests.

This has lead to a double edged sword with the Force. Between ages 1 and 15, Crim was obsessed with becoming the Sith Lord his father wanted his only son to be. As a result, I remember him being so obsessed with learning the sabre combat of Marka Ragnos and Naga Sadow, that he couldn’t be bothered to eat. 

At age 15 (by the way, I am using Imperial Standard years), for reasons I’m assuming Crimsèn will explain tomorrow, he stripped himself of the Force. For the next 15 years, he obsessively resisted any hint of being a pureblood outside of looks. It drove him to serve the EMpire under intelligence, suppress most of his pureblood characteristics, and in some ways quietly accept being brainwashed under intelligence. They used the CAstellan Mind control in order to ensure he would never go back to our people nor ruin any missions because he acted on emotions over logic.

Now, his obsessions are mostly on taking care of his family. To that end, he was trained in using his returned Force abilities at last. He couldn’t fight Zakuul without all the tools, and abilities he had, just like I couldn’t fight Zakuul by sticking with the narrow ways of Jedi and the Sith.

Now, where does borderline personality disorder fit into this? Well, Crimsèn only has two traits of it really: Abandonment fears and emotional swings. The emotional swings are thanks to him being a Sith and his connection to the darkside as a result. Not saying it is good or evil to have such swings; it is what it is. 

I believe his abandonment fears are from being abused. Abuse teaches people many things, including the belief that if they under perform by a fraction of a percent, they will be abandoned. For Crim, that abandonment meant his own father would murder his only son the moment he learned he was gay (I know was going to save that for Crim to explain tomorrow during the Gender/Sexuality topic, but I felt it was needed in context here). Then it was join intelligence, or his first love would abandon him via Intelligence executing his first love.

Now with his marriage to Kardeva... I know that the distance broke him and left Crim vulnerable to many influences. I chose, as his master, to step back and let him either stand strong in the storm or fall to it because that was his trial. As a master and mentor, it’s important to know when a person needs to face a trial on their own or face it with some guidance. 

I can say that while Crim’s abandonment fears are still there, he has learned how to live with them now in a way that he controls them instead of the other way around. I’m proud of my brother for facing them. 

[elfroschkoenig]

Woah, this is really happening. All these new year resolutions I have kept for all this time. It is almost like I am a productive human being. Before I start with the happenings of week two I have to add an event that I erased out of my memory probably for its cruelty. It occurred on Saturday and I am proud to say that I survived going to the sauna with four finns. The observant reader might ask himself to which sauna I went. Easy answer: my dorm has a sauna (besides being called Parenthesen and being shaped like a parenthesis, which is totally bad-ass. Fuck yeah.) In fact, I had been to the sauna with some (non-finnish) roommates before and it had been an agreeable experience. So when I was asked by Erik I agreed to go there. Little did I know that I would end up sitting in the sauna like this:

Because Erik would do this:

Wait 30 seconds and do this:

Wait another 30 seconds and do this:

For 10 times. Or 20? I can't remember and probably don't know the full answer because I had to leave the sauna to drink some water before the fins ended their session. Of course, we also had to go outside in the freezing cold because it was 10pm and snow had fallen just a couple of days before. Anyways, the bottom line is that I survived. If Erik asks I'll probably do it again though.

I started the week...

with preparing a PowerPointPresentation for the last course I ever had to take at university. Although the presentation itself was only graded Fail or Pass I put a lot more effort in it than needed. This in return meant that I missed a preparatory meeting for the International Welcome Day on Tuesday. But Freja, who is the coordinator was supercool about it and because I already knew her from before, I just had to send her a couple of cute gifs and apologize.

So, on Tuesday I was working at the International Welcome Day. Basically it is a day set-up especially for the exchange students from overseas (Canada, USA, Australia & New Zealand, China etc.), where they can get all the information they need to start their life in Lund. In the morning I helped out by welcoming the students and instructing them on where they could leave their suitcases, get their keys for their apartments and so on. It was fun because I was working with some other students together, whose names I forgot in the middle before remembering them again and then forgetting them again. After noon, I switched positions and drove a mini-van to take the people from Lund Central station to the IKDC, where the information centre was located, and from the IKDC to their apartments. Driving was super fun, and while I was concerned in the beginning about me driving another than my parents' car, everything went super smoothly. We finished around 8pm and I got a super nice compliment from Freja. Apparently several people had told her that I was super funny (to work with) (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1: Yeah, like I am always super funny and not super annoying.

On Wednesday Laura, a German study friend, went to the introductory class for our Swedish language course. When I started studying in Sweden I had used Duolingo to learn Swedish. After having moved into my corridor my corridor friends helped me learning Swedish real fast. Right now I am taking the follow up course of SFI, which stands for Svenska för Invandare (= Swedish for Immigrants). The slight difference is that the last course was led by a teacher and we had classes twice a week while this course requires me to study all by myself.

But,

it is not like I am doing anything import this term.  After the course we had our feedback seminar for last term's group report, where we got overall very positive feedback, so we are very eager to see if we get the grade we want and expect. In the evening I went to repair my bike at BikeKitchenLund. BikeKitchenLund is an event every Tuesday and Wednesday in Lund, where everyone can go and repair his bike for free. Of course this is awesome and since students in Lund rely on their bikes, it is well visited  So I have become real good and repairing my bike in Lund. Basically I've changed the tires, the pedals, replaced the cords for the breaks and the gears at least once in Lund. This should normally really be a sign that I've paid way too much for the rust bucket but I choose to actively live in denial on this one.

On Thursday I was still busy working on our presentation which we finally held on Friday. I have been mentioning the presentation and the project quite often now, so I'll explain to you in one sentence what is was generally about: Together with five other students in my course, we planned and organized a mock-up assessment centre for 6 students from Lund University last term. On Saturday Erik, his girlfriend Johanna and me went to the Ikea in Malmö to buy some needed stuff for the corridor like cutlery, glasses and plates because it always mysteriously vanishes over time and we needed to replace it. After coming back we enjoying the ribs Erik and I had marinated the night before and cooked in the slow cooker for 7 hours. After that and finally tidying up my room I went to a house / welcome back party where we played some rounds of King’s Cup before I took a quick pit-stop at Laura’s apartment to say hello, look at the massive paper horse she has standing in her living room and drink a couple glasses of water to sober up a bit before cycling home.

What is the conclusion of this week's blog? Yes, I know, it has been a rather uneventful week. Some might say it was quite boring. And I agree with you. Then again, in last week's blog I said I would disappoint you by writing another post. So for this week's blog it decided to disappoint you in advance. Also next week's blog might be longer and go into more details about stuff that has already happened or has happened this week (keyword: Master Thesis, Skanör). I just have to figure a smooth way of incorporating that into the structure of the blog.

Yours sincerely, en riktig svensk kille